#going into the heart of the city and working in a big beautiful skyscraper where things are more peaceful and kind

[rosykims]

not to jinx it but im so happy. lol

[lale-txt]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 (𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐲

♫ Sleeping At Last - Two

I don't even know where to start // Already tired of trying to recall // When it all fell apart // I just want to love you, to love you

word count: 3.2k

⭅ back to m.list

Kuroo moves in the next day.

Or at least that is when she puts his name up on the doorbell and the mailbox. He stands next to her when she does, their shoulders almost brushing and the keys to his new place jingling in his palm. Before that, he watched her type up his name on an old typewriter and she gave him a slightly disgruntled look when he asked why she’s not doing it on the computer. 

“It’s faster this way, believe me,” she muttered and then sent him off to go feed Jiji as if that’s something he’d done countless times before. Like he belonged here already. Backoffice, top shelf, the tuna one. Half a can is enough. Don’t let his big round eyes fool you. (He did, in fact, let the cat’s big round eyes fool him.)

Yesterday, after he viewed the apartment, she told him to sleep on it for a night to see if he really wanted it or if it was just the whim of a moment. Kuroo wanted to protest, but he figured she had a point. It’s been a day for him–a burst water pipe in his old apartment, almost getting hit by a car on his way to work, the one comment by his boss that made him write his resignation letter while he was still in the meeting–all before noon.

On top of that it’s been pouring all day, too. Of course it was. 

He knew he had to get out of here. The buzzing heart of downtown Tokyo didn’t excite him anymore, it drained him, scared him. The monotony and the loneliness, the anonymity and the coldness of the people around him. It’s like he couldn’t breathe anymore. He left the office on autopilot and walked to the closest station, took the next train out of the city and just got off somewhere in the outskirts of town, an area which's name he only read on the map before. 

It was all intuition that brought him here. Maybe the stubborn refusal that this was his life. There must be more to it, right? There had to.

Kuroo was tired. He had been tired for a very long time. 

After walking out of the station he rented a bike, earning himself a slightly concerned glance from the shop owner (because surely he must have looked like someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown) and started exploring the neighborhood in the pouring rain. Because it was either this or going back to suffocating in his shoebox of an apartment. An easy choice. 

Calm. That’s how he felt while he explored these narrow streets, all sounds of the world muffled by the pitter patter and his own huffs and puffs while he pedaled. It was kind of freeing, feeling the rain on his skin and the clear air in his lungs. As if he could really breathe for the first time in ages.

All buildings here were much smaller than the big skyscrapers in Tokyo, and it was greener, despite autumn being around the corner. There were a lot of local shops, none of the usual chains with the same clothes and the same food you see in Shibuya, no–stores that still had a soul. He passed by a flower shop where he saw the owner arranging a beautiful bouquet, a record store that blasted early 2000s J-Rock, and eventually stopped by a sandwich shop to grab himself a bite.

While he waited for his order, he spotted the flyer in the window.

It broke all rules of good graphic design but somehow that only made it more endearing. Someone slapped half a dozen different Wordarts on one page, printed it out, then apparently added more handwritten notes–in a really messy handwriting on top of that–to it and afterwards made a few low-quality copies at the local copy shop on a printer that’s running on ink from the past century probably.

Kuroo was intrigued by it.

>> Apartment for rent >> 3 rooms + kitchen + bath + backyard >> comes with a cat (Jiji. you have to get along) >> everything’s a little broken (the cat is not. however he is the reason for it at times) >> more info at The Heirloom (open monday-saturday; 10am-6pm or just knock)

The flyer also contained a photo of said cat, or at least traces of it–due to the poor quality and the presumably black fur of Jiji all that could be seen were two small orbs in a void. When he tried looking up the address of the store mentioned, he didn’t get any results which made him wonder if the flyer was as ancient as it seemed. The shop staff who handed him his order noticed his confusion and shook their heads and laughed, then kindly explained that the data online probably wasn’t up to date since the owner preferred to do things the old school way. They drew him a small map on a napkin that would lead him there, to The Heirloom.

On his way there he wondered what kind of person the owner was like. Someone elderly maybe? Or was he just biased because in his head an antique shop had to be run by someone who was at least 300 years old? At least the people in the sandwich shop all smiled at the mention of the shop owner, one of them the girl from the flower shop he passed by earlier. Each of them had something nice to say which he took as a good sign.

Oh, she bought the broken necklace I inherited from my mother, said she could give it a new life. I spent my entire uni years at her shop, the book collection there is endless. It’s impossible to leave without buying something, right? Yesterday I saw a girl walking out with three vases and two bags dangling from her arms, really got the full Heirloom experience it seems. 

All Kuroo had was a name, the crumpled flyer in the pocket of his shirt and the gut feeling that they were destined to meet.

The first thing he noticed when he reached the store was the sign above the door, faded letters and the coating of them peeling a little, but it only seemed to add to the overall charm. It was an antique store after all. The entire building seemed a little older than the rest of the street and from what he could tell through the fogged up shop windows, the inside glowed warm and welcoming, even more on a rainy day like this. The old door bell announces his visit when he takes the first step into his new future. 

He’s overwhelmed by the masses of antiques, some of them stacked up to the ceiling. There’s bookshelves that look as if they’re about to collapse at any moment and at the same time as if they’ve been built to last a thousand years, possibly longer. Ailes leading in the depths of the store, like a maze you could get easily lost in. There’s a bit of everything–furniture from various decades, racks with vintage clothing of all kinds, porcelain in every shape and color possible, vinyls and cassettes, paintings in all sizes, vintage rugs stacked over each other… never has he experienced a place like this before.

A cat rubbing against his legs draws him back into reality. Jiji, he remembers from the flyer, and then another pair of footsteps shifts his attention towards the direction they were coming from.

Kuroo is a goner the moment he sees her.

He heard about the phrase before, to have one's breath taken away, but to feel it quite literally happen to him–that was something he hasn’t experienced before. With the flyer clutched in one hand all he can do is stand there, starstruck and drenched to the bones, a small puddle forming at his feet. He’s smiling like a fool and barely registers what she’s saying, too distracted by the drumming sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

Not only is she beautiful–she also radiates the aura of an old soul, someone who has experienced life in all its glory and gory. It’s as if she can see right through him the moment their eyes meet, see everything that shaped him into the person standing in front of her today. The almost painful tug in his chest is impossible to ignore, as if his soul wants to stumble towards her. He finds himself yearning to bask in her light, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. 

“Hi, I’m here for the vacant apartment?”, is all he can stammer out, but he might as well have gotten on one knee and asked if she had been his beloved wife in a past life.

And so he moves in the next day. 

Due to her connections in the neighborhood Kuroo is able to borrow a truck from the nearby flower store–Calla Lily, she and the owner are close friends, he learned–and move his few belongings from his old apartment to the one above The Heirloom. 

It wasn’t a lot to begin with: A futon, a few boxes with clothes and one filled with memories, the old rocking chair he got from his sister when he moved out for college and a few pots and pans, some of them still in their original packaging. The kitchen in his old apartment had been tiny and most of the time he’d been too tired to use it anyway. He lived off conbini food and whatever lunch the cafeteria at his job offered. 

By the end of the day, Kuroo sits down on the wooden floor of his new apartment, surrounded by the remains of his old life in moving boxes. A strange feeling blooms in his chest, something between exhaustion and satisfaction. It’s like everything is slowly falling into place, the universe making room for him to finally grasp the life he’d been craving the whole time. 

He could just curl up here on the floor and sleep for three days, he thinks, when a knock at the door interrupts his trail of thoughts. 

“Come in,” he calls out and rises to his feet again, brushing a bit of dust off his old jeans–first time he wore these again after spending the past couple of years in a three-piece suit most of the time. 

The door was only left ajar and pushed open slowly. First in is Jiji who hastily rubs against Kuroo’s legs before he struts off to explore the boxes and new scents of the apartment; second is her, lingering in the doorframe, not as brazen as her cat. She smiles brightly when she sees him and holds up a basket for him.

“Thought you might be hungry after today,” she says and lifts up the cloth, revealing an old stoneware pot that radiated a heavenly smell and one half of a sourdough bread. It smells freshly baked. “It’s stew. Old family recipe. Nothing exciting, but hearty, something to warm you up. Since you got soaked yesterday, you know? Don’t want you to catch a cold in the long run.”

Kuroo is a little too baffled and a little too moved to speak, and when he takes the basket from her, her attention drifts to Jiji who is in the middle of claiming Kuroo’s rocking chair as his new favorite spot. She clicks her tongue and looks back at Kuroo apologetically.

“This cat, I swear. You can just kick him out if he gets on your nerves, though I can’t promise that he’ll weasel his way back inside when you blink,” she sighs and Kuroo shakes his head and laughs. 

“I really don’t mind. Honestly it’s nice to have a cat around again. Used to have one when I was a kid,” he says and reaches for his phone in the pocket of his jeans. He taps the screen a few times before handing the phone to her. She takes it from him like it’s something alien or a bomb that could go off any second, but her face relaxes when she sees the photo of his childhood cat. It was an old calico named Kiki they adopted shortly after his parents divorced, his father’s poor attempt to make him feel a little less lonely. 

He steals glances at her while she swipes clumsily through the gallery, her tongue poking out a little from between her lips. It was endearing to watch. 

“You were a really cute kid,” she snickers after her third attempt to zoom into a photo of him napping in the garden with Kiki on his chest. “Same hair, too.”

Kuroo puts the heavy basket down on the kitchen countertop and looks back at her over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Were? What, am I not cute anymore? You wound me”, he quips back and she looks up from the screen with the most serious face, a small frown across it even. 

“I did not say that. Obviously you still are very cute,” she replies bluntly, and the words hang in the air for a few seconds until it dawns on both of them that they’ve been flirting just now and neither of them knew what to do with this realization. Kuroo busies himself with lifting up the lid of the stoneware pot while she puts his phone down on the kitchen table to grab Jiji from the rocking chair instead.

“That’s a beautiful chair you got here,” she says and breaks the awkward silence that was about to settle between them, and Kuroo feels a small wave of relief wash over him. He would have hated it if their first night as neighbors was off to a bad start. When he turns around again, her hands are running over the wood, her gaze focused with a hint of admiration. He had a feeling she would really like this rocking chair. Not that he had pictured her in it or anything, with a book across her lap and wearing one of his sweaters. Surely not. 

“Right? It’s a bit worn out and broken, but I guess I don’t have to tell you of all people that it’s not a bad thing,” he replies, a little quieter now. His gaze softens when she looks back at him and smiles. 

“These are my favorite kind of things actually.”

Jiji is hanging over her shoulder while she inspects the rattan lining and Kuroo thinks he could spend hours just watching her. Every movement of hers is done with care; from her fingers tracing the grain pattern to her eyes racking over the small notch in one of the armrests. He can tell that she’s already thinking about how to kindle his chair without taking away its charm from the past. 

It’s what she does apparently, fixing things that have been loved for a long time. Breathing new life into them while acknowledging their past. 

“Do you want to eat together?”, he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. He catches her gaze and neither of them looks away. “It… I’d really like it if we could eat together. Neighbor.”

"Neighbor," she echoes and mirrors the smile that’s forming on his lips. Kuroo isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but he can see a flicker of relief wash over her, as if she had waited a very long time for someone to ask her for a shared dinner. 

Kuroo swallows, his throat feeling a little tight all of sudden, and tries to distract himself. Dinner. It dawns on him that he has never had anyone over for dinner ever since he moved out. How does that even work? You’re supposed to set out plates and glasses and…? 

“Uh. Don’t laugh but I don’t have any cutlery,” he admits with a small sheepish smile while his head rattles a hundred miles per hour. All of sudden he was feeling nervous. Who at his age doesn’t own cutlery? Someone who doesn’t have his life together. Kuroo could quite feel the self-deprecating thoughts crawling up his spine. 

Uncool. He felt so damn uncool. 

Only when she touches his arm does he snap out of it, looking back at her and remembering how to breathe again. She smiles up at him and something inside of Kuroo unravels, making him feel present again. 

“Boy, do I know the store for you,” she laughs and it’s like a hundred suns are rising all at once. 

There is something magical about walking the aisles of The Heirloom after dark, hours after the store had closed its doors. In the dim lights, Kuroo follows her around in wonder. She seems to have memorized every single trinket here, which shelf it rested in and what’s the story behind it. He could listen to her for hours without ever getting tired, he realizes. 

They came down here for cutlery, and while Kuroo was rummaging around the sets she had, she appeared behind him again with a stack of plates and some tea towels made from linen cloth, one corner embroidered with a trio of small mice dancing together. Isn’t it silly, she laughed and showed it to him, and Kuroo could feel his heart stumble against his ribcage from the sound of it. 

“Very silly. I love them,” he agreed. They put all the things they gathered on the counter and Kuroo pats the backpocket of his jeans for his wallet. She stops him right there by reaching for his hand and holding it in hers, shaking her head. 

“Don’t even think about paying any of this,” she says with a small roll of her eyes, but she’s laughing while she does. She’s also still holding his hand, and Kuroo can’t help but brush a thumb over her knuckle. “It’s a welcoming gift, alright? So this place will feel like home to you a little quicker.”

She squeezes his hand and Kuroo squeezes back, knowing there was no use in protesting. He’ll think of something else to make up for her kindness. There’s many things he wants to say at this moment, but the words just won’t come out, which is strange, because usually he was very good at them–just not in her proximity, it seems. 

Not letting go of his hand, she tugs him behind her, gesturing to him to follow her to the back of the store again.

“Come, I need to show you a rug that I think would be perfect for your living room,” she says with a smile. “I also have some heavy wool blankets you can put on your rocking chair until I fix the rattan lining for you. I think Jiji would love that, too.” The cat meows at the mention of his name and follows them like a shadow. 

They spend over an hour unrolling every other rug and in the end Kuroo picks three of them, because according to her you can never have too many rugs and Kuroo thinks he’s a rug person now. Maybe he’s also falling a little bit in love with her, or maybe it’s just the warm light that makes her look angelic, and her calm voice narrating all the stories of people who have once loved, a piece of them kept alive by not forgetting them in the walls of this store. 

Kuroo wonders if one day someone will tell their story with the same gentleness; their love, preserved.

a/n: serving you the lale special - the down bad (and soon to be lovesick) man. really my favorite genre of men. calla lily is the flower shop from wyr's love's nectar and the poor girl mentioned who left the heirloom with three vases and more trinkets is y/n from ellie's homemade love! the kuroocember trilogy holding hands all the way through.

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@staygoldsquatchling02 @gigiiiiislife @kameyyy @grassbutneo @kentocalls

@jellychannie @starry-magicshop @anonymity-222 @rriwyu @loveyislost

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taglist open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[princessofgotham777]

On Each Other’s Team

Fic type: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, slow burn, I don’t write smut

Peter Hayes x Reader

Heyyyy this is so random but over the summer my sister showed me divergent and I completely fell in love with the universe. I haven’t read the whole series so sorry if some stuff isn’t book accurate but yk it is fanfic. This is just my imagination and movie Peter, I know he’s lowkey a villain (and worse in the books) but why not yk like it’s fan fiction and I’m gonna write him as a better person than he actually is💀. Reader uses she/her pronouns. It’s Peter Hayes x Reader. Reader is basically taking Tris’s place in the plot but Four is still Tris’s love interest, not readers. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, other than that nothing in this part just normal divergent stuff

Part One: Stranger

You were born into Erudite. Your older sister chose to remain in Erudite, she’d always been drawn to science and continuous learning. Your father was Erudite born and your mother a transfer, though you didn’t know which faction she was from. Truthfully you had no idea which faction you truly belonged to. You enjoyed helping people but weren’t selfless enough for abnegation. You enjoyed a thrill here and there but weren’t big on authority. Peace and harmony seemed nice but boring. Having to be honest no matter what in theory seemed like a good idea but in practice terrifying. And finally you could handle problem solving and hard work but you had no desire to spend the rest of your life dealing with politics and science. Tomorrow morning you’d choose where to go, early today you took the test. The test that’s supposed to tell you which faction to choose. The problem was the dark haired dauntless girl who administered your test refused to tell you your results and said you should just pick amity and lay low. Staying in erudite was appealing, being with your parents and sister was the obvious choice. Even though you wished to remain with your family you knew you wouldn’t be happy in erudite. Despite your instincts you knew deep down you had to be selfish tomorrow and pick whatever faction seemed most appealing not to your family, but to you.

Morning arrived with sun shinning into your room. You lived in a huge skyscraper apartment building in the heart of the city. Normally at this time your father would be off to work with the courts at Candor, your mother would be heading to school to teach and your sister would be on her way to her research lab. But because today was the choosing ceremony your mother and sister helped you get ready to head to the hub. You wore a blue pleated skirt with a matching blazer. Normally people would wear a white button up underneath but you always preferred a white tank top. Your mother insisted you wear your hair up but you liked it to be free to fly in the wind; you two compromised and you wore it half up half down. Finally you wore thin framed black glasses that hung low under your eyes and touched your cheeks when you smiled.

“I have something for you,” your mother says with a soft smile. She reaches in the pocket of her blue blazer for a small blue jewelry box. She opens it to reveal a silver necklace with a black gemstone.

“It’s beautiful,” you say as she helps you put it on.

“It was mine when I was a kid,” she says.

“It’s from your old faction?” You asked her. She never spoke of her old faction but you’d always wanted to know.

“It is, my mother gave it to me. It’s all I have left from my time in Dauntless,” she says.

“You were Dauntless?” You say loudly.

“Shhh,” she hushes you. “I was, don’t mention to anyone I told you. Sweety of course I want you to stay with your father and I and your sister but I also want you to follow your heart. Even if your heart tells you to choose Amity, Candor, Abnegation or Dauntless.” “I want you to find where you belong and no matter what I’ll always love you.”

You walked towards the elevator in the hub. As you stepped in with a family from Candor you saw a girl your age with her family headed for the stairs. They were Abnegation. She had long pulled back honey colored hair and wore gray robes. You recognized her from school, her name is Beatrice. In the elevator is a boy your age from Candor with his parents. They’re dressed in back and white. He’s the tallest person in the elevator with dark brown hair and sad eyes. You wondered if it was tiring, having to tell the truth and be yourself all the time. Despite his sad eyes he had an arrogance about him. You noticed though, he was quite cute.

Getting out of the elevator was like stepping into another world. You couldn’t stop thinking about the power you finally had to change your life. Since you were a kid everything was mapped out for you. Erudite beliefs were pushed on you and that was just the way it was. For the first time ever you have control over your future, it both excites you and terrifies you. Once everyone filed into the hub the ceremony began. One by one kids were called up to drip blood into whichever bowl symbolized the faction they wished to commit to. The first four stayed with the faction they were born with. The fifth kid, a boy from amity, switched into erudite. You wondered how someone raised in such a peaceful place could subject themself to such stress. Next up was the boy from the elevator. Confidently, he walked up to the bowls, he didn’t even hesitate before leaving Candor and joining Dauntless. You glance at the Candor crowd to see his parents expressions deadpan, unchanged by his actions. The next two stayed. Beatrice’s brother Celeb was next. He hesitates before dropping his blood into the Erudite bowl. Then Beatrice from school switched from Abnegation to Dauntless. You looked to the Abnegation crowd, curious to see their parents faces. Their mother and father looked sad, you didn’t want your family to wear the same expressions. Next was a girl from Candor named Christina who went into Dauntless and then she was followed by Will from Erudite, you knew him from school. Finally your name is called. You hug your Father and sister and say “see you soon.” Then you hug your mother who whispers, “I know you don’t know what to pick, be brave.” As you walk to the bowls you think about everything your mothers told you. You don’t know which to choose but you do know your mother was born dauntless and she said to be brave and selfish. Using the control you finally have over your future you pick up the knife. You walk to the Dauntless bowl and carefully and slowly drop your blood in. The Dauntless crowd cheers as you walk over. You look back to your family with a worried smile. Your father has his arm around your mother and your sister looks sad. She was never one for being sentimental but you were still her little sister. Someone at Dauntless gets up allowing you to take a seat next to the girl who’s name you believed was Christina. “I’m Y/N,” you said putting out your hand.

“Christina,” she replied shaking your hand.

Not even a minute after the ceremony ended Dauntless began to run out of the hub. Normally Abnegation hangs around to clean up and chat with Erudite about the failing political system and how it’s the others fault. But Dauntless simply pushed past everyone and sprinted to the stairs.

“Why are we running?” You asked Christina knowing she wouldn’t have an answer.

“No idea,” She said with a smile. Everyone hurries down the stairs and outside. You and Christina stop for a moment but everyone continues. You see two other transfers also looking confused, it’s Will and the boy from the elevator, you think you heard someone call him Peter. The four of you stand for a moment separated in twos. Then Peter begins to run after the group, you, Christina and Will join him. Everyone begins to climb the side of the train tracks. You realize Dauntless might’ve not been the best pick for someone as uncoordinated as you. Regardless of your lungs fighting for air and the burn in your muscles, you climb. Christina is ahead of you and aside from Beatrice your last. Everyone runs along the side of the train and you see people starting to jump inside.

“What the fuck,” you say to yourself out of breath. Christina jumps in after Peter and Will. You jump once and almost fall off the track. “Shit!”

“Here,” says Christina as she extends her hand to you. You jump again and she pulls you in causing you to fall on top of her.

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly. You look out of the train to see Beatrice behind. “Come on!” You shout to her. “I know her from school,” you say to Beatrice. “We gotta help her she’s nice,” you say.

“Come on Beatrice!” Christina shouts. You extend your hand like Christina did for you and pull Beatrice inside the train.

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much,” she says.

“Course, I remember you from school your names Beatrice right?” You ask.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna go by Tris now though,” she says.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Tris,” Christina says. In the train you, Tris, and Christina make small talk, conspiring on what Dauntless will be like. Across the train is Will, Peter, and another boy. It’s been ten minutes on the train so far and you’d made awkward eye contact with Peter about four times. You see Dauntless born walk to the open door.

“We must be there,” Christina says standing up. Suddenly the Dauntless born jump off the moving train.

“The hell!” Will yells with concern. You look outside to see they’re jumping across an open space onto the roof. You Christina and Tris walk over to Will Peter and the other boy who looks like he’s gonna puke. More and more people jump. Suddenly without hesitation Will throws himself across the gap onto the roof, dragging the other boy with him.

“Together,” Christina says taking your and Tris’s hands. Tris nods but you shake off Christina’s hand. Them two run and jump leaving just you and Peter.

“Fuck we actually have to do that don’t we,” you say.

“Now or never right,” he says. He starts running but sees you frozen in place. “Hey if those losers can do it so can you,” he says attempting to be encouraging.

“You don’t even know me,” you say.

“If you jump with me maybe I’ll get the chance to,” he says with a smirk. He extends his hand and you take it. Without thinking you two run and jump off the train, roughly landing on the gravel covered roof. Your hands fall apart as you two jump and fall. He hurries off to Will and the other boy while you stand with Christina and Tris.

“Dauntless born!” A man with dirty blonde hair yells. “You know the way! Initiates,” he says stepping aside to show the ledge of the roof. “Who will be the first to jump!”

“Is he serious,” Tris whispered.

“Unfortunately I think so,” you replied quietly. Everyone was silent but you saw Peter mutter, “what the fuck,” under his breath.

“Is it safe?” Someone asked, she was from amity.

The blonde man smirked, “doesn’t matter…I say jump, you jump.” “Now are we gonna stand here all day or is someone gonna step up!” Suddenly you feel someone push you forward, you turn around to see a boy from abnegation. He must’ve pushed you cause you’re Erudite. “Well well an Erudite for our first jumper!” The blonde says referring to you. Your nervous, you don’t want to jump first but then you realize it’s to late to back down. If you back away you’ll be labeled as a coward and that’s not something you can afford. You carefully walk over the edge of the building, you look down to see nothing but darkness. With a leap of faith, you jump.

Hiiii, I hope you enjoyed reading. If you did please like, reblog, and or follow. Any positive feedback is much appreciated, it encourages me to keep writing and posting parts. Hopefully I’ll be posting more parts so look out for those if you liked this one. Also if you’d be interested in reading Anakin Skywalker or Jason Todd or Dick Grayson fanfic check out my Masterlist!

Masterlist

[harryspet]

well kept [1] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, bdsm elements, rafe has control issues, some sugar baby vibes, future NONCON/DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 4.8k

In which you interview for a low-level position at Cameron Development, but instead, you unexpectedly find yourself chosen as Rafe Cameron's personal assistant.

well kept masterlist

rafe cameron masterlist

The sky was dreary. You looked up to see dark and ominous clouds staring down at you. Taking a breath to steady your nerves, you continued walking along the pavement. At least the southern sun wasn’t beating down on you. Maybe you’d appear less sweaty and nervous to your possible employer. 

Charlotte was a big city you hadn’t fully explored, but your walk was familiar. A few blocks down from the Cameron Development headquarters was the Mug & Muffin, where you’d been serving coffee for the past year. You practically only served housewives who had the time to grab coffee at 11 in the morning and suits who were on their way to the giant buildings downtown to make more money than you’d ever see in your whole life. 

Today was your day off; however, it was the only day of the week that you weren’t working for ten straight hours. Somehow, you’d been selected to interview for a Filing Clerk position at Cameron Development. You thought it was some kind of mistake that out of all the places you applied to through online portals, a legitimate company wanted to interview you. Not only was it legit, but they had their building downtown. The building was no skyscraper, but looking up at twenty dark steel floors, huge windows wrapped around each side, and a sparkling gold sign that read CAMERON, you felt incredibly intimidated. 

When you finally pushed through the revolving doors, you reminded yourself that it was a small position. A small position you weren't qualified for, but there was no need to worry. The receptionist on the first floor barely glanced at you when you approached her. You took a deep breath, slowly releasing it before starting your sentence: “Hi, I have an eight-thirty interview with Andy Speer in the Record Management department.”

She spoke curtly, “Twelfth floor,” She pointed to the elevators hidden behind a corner.

“Th-Thank you,” You mumbled, your shoes clicking against beautiful marble floors as you made your way to the elevators. You weren’t expecting to go so high up the building. The ride felt like an eternity, with each floor reminding you of how out-of-place you were. Even the receptionist who worked on the first floor acted like she was above you. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, grateful you’d chosen a black one. Well, you were thankful that you’d chosen the second out of the only two nice dresses you owned. 

You were now the age you should've graduated college at, you couldn’t work at a coffee shop forever. If you ever wanted to not have to live with three other people then you needed a serious job. You needed to take advantage of this opportunity. If you somehow landed it, this was the type of job where you might be able to grow. Who knows? Maybe you’d eventually be able to afford a car payment. Those thoughts pushed you forward as you walked down the hallway. 

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N,” The male voice came from behind you and you whirled around to see a short, bearded man approaching you. He wore a blue dress shirt and navy tie and was carrying a coffee from no other place than the Mug & Muffin. You spotted a small brown spot near his shirt pocket wear he’d clearly spilled some, “You’re here about the Filing Clerk position?”

You nodded, your heart beginning to race, as you stuck your hand out for him to shake. You weren’t sure if you were overdressed, having worn your outfit at your cousins wedding, but you added a red cardigan and ballet flats to make it more professional, “Yes,” You smiled, “That’s mmm-me.”

He didn’t seem to look you over more than once, and his smile remained despite the bump in your speech, “Great, my name is Andy Speer. I manage the department. Come on into my office.”

Breath, you reminded yourself. Start your sentences slow. Take a pause if you need to. If you get stuck, don’t get too frustrated. Try not to bring attention to it. 

When you settled into his office, relatively small but with a large window that had a lovely view of the city, he began the interview. You folded your hands in your lap, trying to be acutely aware of your facial expressions and your body’s posture. 

“So, tell me a little about your experience,” He started. 

“Well,” Breath in and slowly release, “I’ve actually been working at the Mug & Muffin as a shift lead for the past year but, before that, I worked in retail for several years. I’m v-vvvv-very organized; that’s why I’ve been able to help with-with both managing inventory and scheduling tasks.”

“Organization is key in a position like this. And you also know how to work on your feet. Our clerks travel all throughout the building, retrieving documents and assisting with things like file purging and managing file systems.”

Deep breath in. Start slowly. 

“I’m totally capable of being in service to others. Working in customer service will teach you how to deal with people very quickly and I’m sure there are similar ups and d-downs even within a company. I think it’s important to show a p-p-person that you’re listening, even if you c-c-can’t help them directly.”

He nodded, “People tend to forget that. What else interests you about working in Records Management?”

“I like the idea of keeping things in order. Making ssss-ssss,” Too fast. Slow down, “Sssss-sssss-sure. Uhm. Making sure everything is in place. It ssss-sound sss-small but it’s s-something I’m good at. And I’d like to be a part of a bigger company where I can grow and learn.”

Andy’s lips parted, and he gave you a look that you were no stranger to, “Ms. Y/L/N, if you don’t mind me asking–”

“I have a stutter,” You finished his sentence before taking another breath, slowing down as much as you could, “I have it managed, mostly. When I’m asked direct questions, or I’m especially nervous, it can flare up. But I-I-I am nervous. I’m interested in this job.”

Andy smiled softly, and your heart seemed to rest slightly. The pounding in your chest was about to make you go crazy.

“I appreciate your honesty. I have more questions for you but there’s no need to be confined to this office. I’ll show you around the building.”

You were more than relieved, instantly nodding. He seemed to understand how tense you were and undoubtedly the conversation would feel more casual if the two of you were walking at the same time. The interview continued, and Andy allowed you time to ask him questions about your possible role. 

Still, you felt small, like a child in an adult’s world. Andy touched on your lack of secondary education but didn’t press it. You explained how you’d completed two years of your undergrad degree, majoring in accounting but had to leave for personal reasons. You explained that you eventually wanted to finish your degree, but in reality, you’d only chosen accounting because it was one of the few majors that didn’t require you to take a public speaking class. 

You followed him through corridors with large glass meeting rooms on either side. Again, everyone you came across looked like they belonged. You walked past a room with a long, sleek table, and it seemed like at least twenty people were sitting at the table. At the front of the room was a tall man, impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit. His back was slightly turned, but the air of authority permeated through the glass all the way to you. You felt it against your skin. 

His voice was raised but was muffled by the glass barrier, “That’s Mr. Cameron. Our CEO.”

Your lips parted when you caught a real glance at him. He was older but much younger than you expected. Certainly younger than a CEO typically was. His hair was buzzed short, his skin a nice tan color, and blue eyes that locked on you. Briefly but intensely, “Let’s continue our tour.”

The rest of the tour happened in a blur. You felt that you made a good impression on Mr. Speer. He was accepting of your stutter and resonated with all the examples you shared from your past jobs. He informed you that they were interviewing four other applicants but that you’d receive an update in the next week about whether they’d chosen you. 

You felt slightly more confident than when you arrived and you reached for your phone, wanting to text your roommate how it went and that you’d be home soon but you ran into wall of muscle as you stepped onto the elevator, “S-Sorry,” You gasped, reaching down to grab your phone which had slipped from your grasp, “Ssss-so sss-sorry.”

Just shut up, you told yourself, and you found yourself actually speechless when you looked up into Mr. Cameron’s eyes, “Careful,” He said, slightly patronizing, and you wanted to crawl inside your skin. You tucked your phone away into your bag, stepping aside until you were on the other side of the elevator. 

The elevator door closed, and your eyes widened when you realized the elevator was not going down, “Oh,” You breathed, “You’re going up.”

Of course he was going up. The CEO works on the top floor. And now, here you were, stuck in an elevator with the CEO himself, a barista dressed up and pretending to belong in a place you had no right to be.

“Yeah, you can usually tell by looking at the arrows before you get on.”

You pressed your lips together, determined not to say anything more, even though you could feel his eyes on you. He sighed, “You’re new, I’m assuming.”

You shook your head. Breathe, start slowly. “I interviewed today. File Clerk.” Keep it brief, you reminded yourself. There was no need to try to impress the CEO—he was far too important to be involved in hiring someone like you. It was better not to embarrass yourself.

The elevator dinged with each floor that you passed, “Ah, well, I hope you were impressed by all the company has to offer,” he said as the doors opened, revealing a sleek black wall with the Cameron Development logo etched in gold. A waterfall cascaded down the marble surface, exuding elegance, “Enjoy your ride down.” 

“B-Bye-” 

Shut up. 

You reached to press the lobby button, watching as his large figure slowly disappeared down a hallway before the doors shut again. 

 There went that small sliver of confidence.

You went down a rabbit hole googling Cameron Development, of course. Rafe Cameron was just shy of thirty but he inherited the company from his father, Ward, when he was only twenty. It went from a company centered to the Outer Banks to one that served clients across the entire country. According to a website you weren’t sure was actually reputable, his networth was close to 1.3 billion dollars. 

And he thought you were an idiot. Most likely, he wouldn’t remember you all. 

You hoped you wouldn’t run into again when you returned to the Cameron Developent the next week. Andy had called you to let you know that you’d been chosen for the job, but when you approached the receptionist on the first floor, she informed you that you should check in with the receptionist on the twentieth floor. 

Was there another portion of the hiring process that involved meeting someone higher up in the company? You asked her if she’d actually meant that floor twice before the woman rolled her eyes and pretended to answer a phone call. 

The twentieth floor. 

You splurged on a new outfit, hopeful that your new job’s salary would soon replenish your funds. You’d be making ten dollars more per hour, after all. You chose a black, square-neck top and soft cream-colored pants, pairing them with your trusty ballet flats that matched almost everything.

When you arrived on the twentieth floor again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that security might escort you out at any moment. Walking past the elegant waterfall, you found the receptionist desk. The redheaded woman behind it was stunning, and though her smile lacked sincerity, at least she looked you directly in the eyes.

“Hi, I’m supposed to meet with Andy Speer in Record Management?” 

“Are you Y/N Y/L/N?” You nodded as you let out a breath. At least you weren’t in the wrong place. 

“Follow me,” she said, stepping out from behind the desk. She was dressed in a sleek, navy dress adorned with gold buttons down the front, tied with a bow at the waist. You couldn’t help but admire her style, your gaze trailing down to her elegant heels. “You’ll be meeting with Mr. Cameron today.”

“Wh-” Your lips paused in an uncomfortable, rounded position before the block in your speech passed, “Why?”

She didn’t respond, and there wasn’t time to press her as she led you to the end of a long hallway. You found yourself in front of two imposing, black double doors. With a push of the large, gold handles, she opened them to reveal the most elaborate room you’d ever seen.

The sheer scale of the room was breathtaking. Your eyes immediately went up to ceilings at least two floors tall and a gigantic window covering the farther wall. You thought Andy’s view was nice … you could see all of Charlotte from this window. Long black curtains hung from the ceiling to keep some of the light out. When the curtains were drawn, the room would undoubtedly take on a different character—moodier, more intimate, and even more private.

To the right, a stunning black marble fireplace dominated the wall, flanked by a bookcase that stretched the entire length of the room. A plush seating area featured leather couches that looked as comfortable as they were luxurious, with a low coffee table in front. Nearby, a polished bar cart stood ready, stocked with an array of crystal glasses and top-shelf spirits. No doubt to impress clients.

“Holy…” You spoke, as smooth as ever. 

To the left was Rafe and his expansive mahogany desk, positioned to take advantage of the view of the city’s infrastructure. His desk was organized with files stacked neatly, a computer with multiple desktops, and a mug that held steaming coffee. Expensive art pieces were framed on the wall behind him, carefully selected to aid the overall aesthetic of the space. They were dark and imposing like him. 

His chair was high-backed and leather, and as you met his eyes, you noticed he was just as tailored as the room. Broad shoulders and lean frame … you wondered how much time he spent carefully crafting it. He set aside the folder he had been reviewing as the redhead, Eleanor, announced your presence.

"Mr. Cameron, your ten o’clock meeting," she said.

“Thank you, Eleanor. That’ll be all,” His voice was smooth and commanding, “Come sit, Ms. Y/L/N.”

He emphasized the leather chairs in front of his desk and although your legs felt like weights, you crossed the room. You couldn’t help but continue to stare at how impressive it was and now that you’d learned more about him through your research, it made sense. What didn't make sense to you was why you were sitting in front of it. 

He leaned forward, his hands folding together, and instinctively you moved further back in your chair, “I got a chance to look at your application and resume.”

Your eyes widened, “Really?”

He nodded, “You never finished college. Why’s that?”

“I…I don’t understand,” You couldn’t hide the confusion on your face, “I didn’t think I-I would b-b-be …I thought Mr. Speer would be here.”

“He works for me, doesn’t he?”

“Y-Yes-” “You want to work for my company, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you repeated, your voice smaller this time. His head tilted slightly, his gaze sharpening.

“Did you forget my original question?”

“N-No,” You blurted before you took a breath. Relax, you told yourself, despite being aware of the environment that Mr. Cameron had already created, “I …I-”

He was patient but unyielding. You tried to imagine that you were just telling a story and not answering a pointed question. He was worth a billion dollars, not you. You had to answer his questions truthfully.

“I had a bad flare-up with my speech during my sophomore year. I …all throughout highschool it was very mild, but for some unknown reason, it got really sss-severe. My professors were … not accommodating. It felt immm-mmm-impossible.”

He stared at you for an uncomfortable amount of seconds. His piercing gaze had a way of making feeling like you were naked. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I see,” He tapped his finger against his desk, “It took me almost eight years to finish business school. By the end, my professor’s were only passing me because of who I was.”

Your lips parted in shock at his sudden candor. 

An ugly truth for an ugly truth.

 “Oh,” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. 

“I’m saying this because it doesn’t matter how many boxes check or how good of a person you are. It doesn’t matter to me what you think you deserve.”

“Okay,” You nodded, still unsure, “I don’t think think I deserve this job. But I want it.”

“How bad?” His lips pulled into a smirk. 

You searched your mind for all the rehearsed interview answers that you’d practiced, “I think I’m a really g-good fit for the–”

“No, what would you do?” He interrupted you, not in the way that people usually did because you were taking too long to speak. He was just completely uninterested in the words you had to say, “Let’s say six months from now, you’re up for a promotion and Andy corners you in his office. It’s ten-thousand more a year. Would you fuck him?”

There was a version of you, the rationale un-scared version of you, that would’ve stood up and walked out of the room. But you froze in place as you searched his eyes for whether he was asking you a trick question. 

Breathe in, let it out slowly, “No, I wouldn’t. I don’t understand.”

“If he hired you as a File Clerk, it would be a great way to get promoted,” Rafe said, “I looked at the other applicants, they’re all more qualified, but you’re more beautiful. It’s a pattern I’m starting to notice with him.”

You couldn’t comprehend why he’d brought you here just to tear you down—to belittle someone who would be working for his own company. Shaking your head, you stammered, “I-I made a mmm-mistake,” as you reached for your bag. But Rafe held up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t worry,” He stood up from his chair. You took a breath and swallowed, trying to keep your heart inside your chest. Hands in his pockets, he walked around the length of his desk until he was in front of you. Even as he leaned back on his desk, his presence seemed to cloud all of your senses, “Mr. Speer does want you to work for him in his department and you’re free to do so. However, I want to hire you as my personal assistant.”

“Uhm,” You blinked, caught off guard. “M-Me?”

“I’m between assistants right now and I think you’d be a perfect fit,” His watched your reaction carefully, his lips in a thin smile. 

Rafe Cameron was a complete asshole. 

“You want me to be your personal assistant?” You asked slowly, trying to prevent a stutter. 

“I want you to be my personal assistant,” he echoed, looking amused, “I think you’re cute.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Because I’m a c-college dropout www-with a stutter?” 

“Not just that,” he shrugged, his nonchalance making you want to scowl. You should’ve walked out already, but something kept you rooted to your seat.  “I think it would be mutually beneficial. The pay starts at eighty-thousand.” 

“A year?” You asked, feeling foolish immediately. 

“That’s almost triple what you make at your barista job.”

You eyed him curiously and wondered how exactly he knew that, “Yeah …”

“So, do you want it or not, Ms. Y/L/N?” The words hung in the air, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say "no." What choice did you really have? Work for a boss who might eventually cross the line—or work for one who’s offering to triple your salary?

“I’d love to give you more time to think it over,” he continued, glancing at his watch, “but I have a meeting in five minutes and will be out of the country for the rest of the week. You’ll need to decide now.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and anxiously picked at the fabric of your pants until you said, “Ninety-thousand.”

“You’re negotiating when you have no experience?” He wasn’t angry, just surprised. 

You nodded, although you were afraid you’d made a mistake. Now, you’d be escorted out by security. But you’d seen something in his eyes—something he wasn’t trying to deny. For reasons you couldn’t quite grasp, he wanted you.

“Eighty-five thousand,” he countered.

You paused, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You nodded again. “Great.”

He clapped his hands together, “W-When would I ssss-start?” 

“A week from now. Monday morning at seven. I get in at seven-thirty, and I expect you to be waiting here. Eleanor will work on getting your new wardrobe delivered to you before then.” 

“Wardrobe?” You echoed, bewildered. 

“I would’ve given you a hundred if you kept pushing,” he said, waving you off as he retreated behind his desk. Your jaw dropped as he added, “That’ll be all.”

The doors to his office opened again, and the redhead waited patiently for you to gather your things and hurry over to her. You glanced behind you to see Rafe intently focused on his computer screen. 

When you finally had enough distance from his office, you asked, “What happened to his last personal assistant?” You thought you might hyperventilate when you were finally alone with your thoughts. 

“Mr. Cameron can be difficult to please,” She smiled down at you, but her eyes were solemn, “Let me take your measurements.”

“Oh, I c-could just t-t-t-tell you,” you stammered, trying to get the words out quickly.

“They’ll need to be exact,” You followed her behind the reception desk. 

You looked at her closer—voluminous hair, a sharp jawline, winged eyeliner that executed perfectly. She was tall, slender, and beautiful, and you felt like you were nothing like her. Again, a child in a place meant for adults. He’d chosen someone like Eleanor, that made sense to you, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around what he saw in you.

Cute, he’d said. You always got cute. Never beautiful. Eleanor probably always got called beautiful. 

You stood still as she took your precise measurements, including around your hips, thighs, and bust. It was another moment where you probably should have run. “About this wardrobe I’ll be receiving…” you began cautiously.

“You’ll only wear what he picks out for you,” She said. 

Breathe. “That’s a little crazy, right?”

“Your job will ensure he has everything he needs—every hour of the day. You want to be nice to look at, don’t you?” 

And you don’t look nice to look at right now.

“Will I have a desk?”

Eleanor gestured to the one across from her, the second of two black desks in a square-shaped pod, “That one is yours, technically.”

“Technically?”

“Did he mention he works from home on Fridays?”

“No-”

“You’ll report to his house at seven a.m. on Fridays rather than here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Eleanor said with a knowing nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll type this all up in an email for you.”

Later, you sat in your apartment's living room, still in your pajamas. Your roommates, Imani and Angel, were at work for the next few hours, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You scrolled through your old laptop, reading the offer letter from Cameron Development three times: eighty-five thousand dollars plus excellent benefits. You hadn’t even been to the doctor in two years because of how expensive and terrible your insurance was.

You could afford your own apartment. You wouldn’t leave your roommates hanging, of course, but maybe you could in a few months. You could get your own cat like you’ve always wanted. That money would change your life. 

Your clothes arrived with a delivery man who was already frustrated with you. He had to make three trips to bring in all the garment bags Rafe had sent. He grew even more frustrated when you begged him to return some of it. They filled your entire living room, and you’d be a horrible roommate to keep all of it. You’d have to throw out all of your clothes to make them fit in your room. 

When the delivery man left, you started to zip the packages open and examine their contents. Your hands shook when you read the first price tag: a twelve-hundred-dollar Giorgio Armani dress. You began to notice a pattern as you looked at thirty different outfits. There were no black dresses or dark colors at all. Many of them were sad excuses for a woman’s professional work clothes. 

You couldn’t deny that the outfits were sophisticated, but they all seemed to follow a particular theme. If one didn’t feature a mini-skirt, it showcased a sleeveless top. Many had a professional air, with neat rows of buttons running down the front or crafted from rich tweed material. Yet, they were also undeniably frilly and elegant, teetering on the edge of overly dainty. You couldn’t shake the feeling that if you wore one, you’d resemble a Barbie doll more than a personal assistant.

Breaking a sweat, you piled all of the garment bags in your room, leaving only a small amount of room for you to walk from your bedroom to the bathroom. That was going to be a problem. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if you returned some of them. How many outfits did you really need for work? 

The man also brought in a trunk—an oversized, luxurious piece you couldn’t dream of fitting into your tiny shoebox of a room. Once you cleared enough space in the living room, you finally managed to open it. Inside, the left side was lined with rows of pristine heels, each pair more exquisite than the last. On the right, several items were wrapped in burlap sacks made from fine material. You carefully unwrapped one that bore the name GUCCI, revealing a small lilac handbag that looked both delicate and expensive.

God, you thought despite the fact you didn’t believe in him. 

Your roommates were going to think you were some kind of sugar baby or escort. Even if you explained what happened, they might still believe that. 

When you checked your laptop again, there was an email from Eleanor. 

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Congratulations on your new position at Cameron Development! We are pleased to officially welcome you as Mr. Rafe Cameron's Personal Assistant. 

Below are some key points regarding your new position:

Start Date: Monday, 7:00 AM

Work Location: Cameron Development Headquarters (Mon-Thurs) / Mr. Cameron’s residence (Friday)

Responsibilities: 

You will be expected to manage Mr. Cameron’s daily calendar, remind him of upcoming appointments, and ensure he is well prepared for them. 

You will coordinate all aspects of Mr. Cameron’s travel, including booking flights, accommodations, transportation, and hotels. 

You will complete all of Mr. Cameron's personal errands.

You must maintain strict confidentiality regarding Mr. Cameron’s personal and professional life. 

You will ensure all of Mr. Cameron’s personal needs are met. 

Salary: $85,000

Benefits: Comprehensive health insurance, paid time off, and a company-provided phone and laptop.

Confidentiality: Due to the sensitive nature of your work, a strict non-disclosure agreement (NDA) will be required upon your first day.

A few tips for looking your best: 

Wardrobe: Please adhere to the dress code. Your new wardrobe has been tailored to Mr. Cameron’s preferences. At work, you will not wear dark colors or pants. The items are non-returnable. Always opt for the heels provided. I suggest you practice at home if you’re uncomfortable wearing them. 

Makeup: Your go-to should be a light foundation, a touch of blush, and a subtle lip color. Avoid anything too bold when it comes to eye makeup. 

Hair: A braiding appointment has been arranged for you this upcoming Saturday, fully paid for. Mr. Cameron prefers a more extended length, but you’re free to choose the color as long as it’s natural. 

Remember, the goal is to look effortlessly polished. 

Best regards,

Eleanor Thornton

Executive Assistant to Mr. Cameron

Maybe Rafe Cameron was a sociopath.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :)

well kept masterlist

[cinnikiroll]

you are my everything

Summary: Tammy is awake late at night because of flashbacks and hating herself. Hannah wakes up to comfort her.

Word Count: 1,123 words

( Yes, I know my gif choices for the headers suck, okay? Be nice to me, I'm not good at making choices 🥺.)

If you like this fic, please do check out my other fanfics on AO3 under the username cinnikiroll. Here is a link to my profile, where I have fics from other fandoms for your viewing pleasure!

A cold breeze lifted up the hem of Tammy's nightshirt as she stood outside on the balcony of her apartment. With a sigh, she pulled it back down again and continued to look out over the city.

New Orleans was a sight to behold late at night. The lights of hundreds of skyscrapers pierced the sky, casting shadows on the placid Mississippi River below. Even at a late hour, the soft and low conversations of pedestrians were heard, and music was playing in bars all around the city.

Usually the nightlife was invigorating to Tammy, who would smile when she heard the miscellaneous sounds outside her bedroom. But tonight, it all served as another annoyance to her, the primary source of annoyance being herself.

Despite Hannah, her girlfriend- it still felt unreal whenever she said Hannah, my girlfriend and not Hannah, my friend or Hannah, my coworker- constantly reassuring her that her flashbacks from Claire's abducting her and the great deal of pain she had been through in her past was a part of her that she loved just as much as any part of her, Tammy still cursed herself for them.

She knew that her past traumas were something she couldn't have prepared for, something she couldn't control. But it hurt her to see the concern and pain on Hannah's face whenever one of them resurfaced and sunk their teeth into her.

Even though she knew that it wasn't her causing Hannah that pain, but rather everything she had suffered in the past that broke her girlfriend's heart, she still couldn't help blaming herself.

So there Tammy was, standing outside on her terrace hating herself during a spring night that was far too beautiful to even foster the slightest bit of hate for anything.

Leaning over the railing, she looked down at the people bustling around beneath her. They had no cares in the world, were probably drunk several times over by now, and were just trying to party and have fun in the Big Easy.

Tammy envied them. She wished she could be carefree again.

The sudden sound of the door to the balcony opening and a harsh intake of breath made her back tense up.

"Tammy... what's wrong?"

--------------------------------------------------------------

A feeling of dread woke Hannah up rather unpleasantly at 2 AM, and she could not fall back asleep again.

Rolling over onto her other side, she reached her arm out to tenderly caress her girlfriend and calm her nerves, but she wasn't lying in bed with her.

Panic slowly wound its thorny roots around her heart, but she wouldn't let it choke her. Not yet. She had to find her lover.

She had to find Tammy.

The first place she stopped was the kitchen. Occasionally, either she or Tammy would wake up late and be craving a midnight snack, so they'd go into the kitchen and make one.

But she wasn't there.

Looking at the key hangars near the door, Hannah realized that Tammy hadn't left for a drive anywhere, which was a relief. If she had, it could've been hours before she was found.

Turning back to check elsewhere, she noticed a silhouette standing outside on the balcony. The shape of it was familiar to her, and she knew by the way it was standing that it was Tammy's.

"Tammy? Why are you outside?"

She asked, taking a step towards the balcony.

When her lover didn't respond, anxiety took hold, and Hannah had to fight the urge to race out, grab Tammy, and start a motherly lecture on why she shouldn't leave without telling her.

But when she saw her leaning over the balcony and the look of pain in her eyes, panic overcame her, and she raced out to rescue her.

"Tammy... what's wrong?"

She asked, trying to sound calm even though she was anything but.

Seeing Tammy's tensed up body and the look of sorrow she had on her face broke Hannah's heart.

She knew the pain that the other woman had experienced more than anything, and she hated herself for not being able to heal the wounds of her past. No matter how hard she tried, Tammy would still have parts of her, the parts that carried that unfathomable pain, closed off to the world. And that killed Hannah to know.

Tammy raised herself up and made eye contact with Hannah, her eyes misted over with unshed tears.

"Let's go inside."

She whispered, and Hannah obeyed.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Burying her face in Hannah's chest, Tammy breathed deeply and slowly, trying to calm herself down.

Hannah's nightgown was already wet with her tears, and she didn't want to make it any worse, no matter how many times Hannah assured her it was okay.

Getting all her emotions out had been hard. But her lover was a kind and patient woman, holding her close and murmuring sweet reassurances to her in both Persian and English until she felt comfortable enough to confide in her.

They had cried together, Tammy out of relief that she'd finally let go of her burdens and Hannah out of pain that the woman she loved had suffered through this much.

"You are loved, azizam. So much. By so many. Please never think otherwise."

She murmured, softly pressing her lips to Tammy's forehead.

Tammy hummed in response, relishing the warmth of Hannah's body and the steady beating of her heart. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, and Tammy thanked God that the woman she loved was alive every time she felt Hannah's chest moving.

The strong floral scent of Hannah's soft chestnut hair intoxicated Tammy, making her want to hold her close to her forever and breathe in that beautiful scent until the day she died.

Noticing how enraptured Tammy was, Hannah took advantage of that to pull the other woman closer to her, until there wasn't an inch of space left between them. Placing a smattering of kisses on the top of her head, she lavished all the love she could on her girlfriend, because she definitely deserved it.

"I love you, you know that, right?"

Tammy murmured sleepily, the restless night clearly getting to her.

Hannah chuckled and squeezed the other woman tightly. She recognized the tired tone in her voice, and she knew that it would be best if they got some rest before they had to head to work.

"You want to put that to the test?"

She asked playfully, ruffling Tammy's hair.

The look of excitement in Tammy's eyes was all the response Hannah needed.

"Let's go to the bedroom, shall we?"

The two of them leapt up and rushed to the bedroom, where they proceeded to have the most therapeutic night of passion they had in a long while.

[sarvodayaholiday]

Top Destinations for Business Travel in 2024

For Travel Related Queries: www.sarvodayaholiday.com

In 2024, business travel is making a big comeback, and professionals around the world are packing their bags for important meetings, conferences, and networking events. If you're a business traveler looking for the best places to combine work and a bit of leisure, here are some top destinations to consider this year.

1. Singapore

Singapore is a major hub for business in Asia. Known for its efficiency, safety, and cleanliness, it's an ideal place for international conferences and business meetings. The city's Marina Bay Sands Convention Center and Suntec Singapore Convention & Exhibition Centre are top-notch facilities for any business event. Plus, after your meetings, you can explore the vibrant food scene, visit the iconic Gardens by the Bay, or take a relaxing walk around the Marina Bay area.

2. Dubai, UAE

Dubai has quickly become a favorite for business travelers. Its strategic location makes it a perfect meeting point for professionals from Europe, Asia, and Africa. The Dubai World Trade Centre hosts numerous international events, and the city offers luxurious hotels and excellent services. In your free time, you can visit the Burj Khalifa, shop at the Dubai Mall, or go on a desert safari.

3. New York City, USA

New York City is the heart of global finance and business. With its endless skyscrapers, including the iconic One World Trade Center, and numerous top-notch hotels and conference centers, it's a go-to for business events. When you're not working, you can enjoy a Broadway show, visit Central Park, or explore world-class museums like the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

4. Tokyo, Japan

Tokyo is a city where tradition meets innovation. It's a leading center for technology and business, making it a prime destination for professionals. The Tokyo International Forum and various other venues host significant global events. Don't forget to enjoy sushi at Tsukiji Fish Market, visit the historic Senso-ji Temple, or experience the bustling nightlife in Shinjuku.

5. Berlin, Germany

Berlin is a hub for startups and innovation in Europe. Known for its creative industries and dynamic tech scene, the city offers great venues like the Berlin Congress Center. After work, you can explore the rich history at the Berlin Wall, enjoy the vibrant art scene, or relax in one of the many beer gardens.

6. Hong Kong

Hong Kong is another top destination in Asia for business travelers. The Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centre is a popular venue for international events. The city's unique blend of Eastern and Western cultures makes it an exciting place to explore. Take a tram ride to Victoria Peak for stunning views, visit the bustling markets, or enjoy a meal in one of its world-class restaurants.

7. San Francisco, USA

San Francisco, located in the heart of Silicon Valley, is perfect for tech industry professionals. The Moscone Center hosts many major tech conferences and conventions. When not working, you can visit the Golden Gate Bridge, explore Alcatraz Island, or take a stroll in Fisherman’s Wharf.

8. London, UK

London remains a central hub for international business. The city's ExCeL London and The Business Design Centre are among the best for hosting events. After your meetings, you can visit historical sites like the Tower of London, take a ride on the London Eye, or enjoy a show in the West End.

9. Shanghai, China

Shanghai is a major business center in China, known for its impressive skyline and financial district. The Shanghai World Expo Exhibition and Convention Center hosts numerous international events. In your downtime, stroll along The Bund, visit the Shanghai Tower, or relax in Yu Garden.

10. Sydney, Australia

Sydney is not just beautiful but also a growing hub for business, especially in the Asia-Pacific region. The International Convention Centre Sydney (ICC Sydney) is a world-class venue. Enjoy the stunning Sydney Opera House, take a walk along Bondi Beach, or explore the Royal Botanic Garden when you have some free time.

Conclusion

Business travel in 2024 is not just about work; it's also an opportunity to experience new cultures, cuisines, and sights. These top destinations offer excellent facilities for business events and plenty of activities to enjoy in your free time. So, pack your bags and get ready for a productive and exciting year of business travel!

[thescarsun]

COLLAPSE

A city at dawn.

I’m inside a very high skyscraper, its walls are grey, smooth and metallic. These floors are very spacious, and there’s nothing more on there but some round tables with a sphere in its center, where some people seem to meet.

I feel an intense feeling of inner peace whenever I walk on this big building. The most outer walls are transparent like the clearest windows, showing the heights of sky to the world’s eyes.

The people I see are wearing black, grey, and white metal suits. And amongst the humans I see extraterrestrial humanoid beings too. They wear the same suits, the same colours. Their head is slightly conic and they’re beautiful, tall and slender. Men and women. They’re faceless, but I can feel their gazes. They talk from within, seems that they have no more senses other than their own mind.

And in one of these tables there are my family. They talk to each other, but I can’t hear them. There’s no sound in here.

Two of these beings, a man and a woman, are talking to them. They gesture and look up to the sky, beyond the clouds.

They point at the Moon.

Her waning remains captivate them. Seems that they look for something deeper inside her. There are ineffable things within these beings but they’re just out of my reach.

The first morning rays come in and these beings now look at us, I see my family then. They are smiling. I am smiling.

A solar flash suddenly blinds me. All turns white, and when I recover my sight, there’s nothing.

I’m at an arid wasteland now, at the city outskirts.

There’s sound again, I can hear again. I see a bulldozer and some vehicles, they’re doing some kind of construction. But again they’re not making any sound. It’s broad daylight, but the workers are shadows. Their bodies are pure black and they have no more shape than a silhouette. Sometimes they dissapear and return again like flickering bodies, and aren’t walking but crawling with something I cannot see. They seem to live on chronic penumbra.

Evening comes and I exit from myself. I see me from somewhere in the sky, walking to somewhere on earth. My vision is now here above, and next to me comes a kite. She made me smile.

Beautiful and pure, she’s made of primary colours and flies alone. Free. She just keeps these colours that one day were buried in concrete.

I’m entering into a building, walking upstairs to the fifteenth floor. I was working there. This building has very long hallways, lit by dim orange and yellow lights, and has endless empty rooms. It has very few door-like windows with no glasses.

I’m restless and nervous, looking for something I really don’t know. Rage strikes the heart more and more. There’s a heavy anxiety that corrodes my calmness and replaces it.

The building alarms start ringing with deafening screams, and flickering vermillion lights cover all in a feeling of agony.

I look out the window in a desperate urge to jump into the void.

But instead, I run downstairs. I kept looking for this something crushing me from within.

There’s a storm outside, an endless rain. I don’t even feel it. I just look ahead and keep running.

There’s a lot of surveillance here on the streets. Everytime I go deeper into the city core, everything warps more and more. There’s mist within the mind and is covering all senses, all thoughts. There’s no clarity. The buildings are like lighthouses shining with red, radial lights, lighting all the soil.

I’m chasing in obstination one of these buildings. It’s one of the highest skyscrapers in here. With darker turquoise walls, metallic, opaque and monotone, wards its inner reality against the outside.

I enter.

There’s no one at the entrance. I’m feeling odd sensations, as if here had ever been purity, but now it’s withered and all’s mute.

There’s a deceiving silence inside, but seems normal here. I can see upstairs an open room with an anatomical skeleton on there.

I’m on a hospital.

I come inside the room, I see the skeleton together with some drawings of human limbs. The hospital walls are of a lighter turquoise, they breath sadness and beauty.

I keep searching. I’m calmer than before. Everything stills silent and there’s no one here. While I walk to the main elevators, I start hearing sweet sounds of cardiovascular machinery.

And suddenly, a distant sound of panicked crowds breaks the silence. It’s people coming downstairs, quick and desperate.

I start to feel a subtle but very unpleasant feeling.

And by that suffocating small elevator I go up thirty floors. When its doors open, I feel grief sorroundings. The endless hallways shows empty rooms with more anatomical drawings. And there’s a room showing the nervous system organs. By this room enters an intense and artificial blinding light. The memory of a near-death experience is still there.

I see the paramedics running by. Faceless and with translucid bodies, they leave a blurry trail of their presence on the air. Some of them bear stretchers with no mattress nor patients. And they pass through me like ghosts of the past.

I call the elevator again and go higher. To floor seventy. Here are only darkened offices and disembodied faces with no expression, fading into the blackness.

And I don’t call the elevator anymore. I’m running upstairs to floor ninety-nine. Last floor.

There’s only one room in complete darkness. And in one of its corners, there is an eye.

Bloodshot and dying, about to close its eyelids. And just above it, there’s another eye. With a turquoise metallic iris and the blackest, emptiest pupil. In eternal vigil, it will never close.

Both are part of the same body, a metallic mass once organic, and clinging now like an ivy to the clear crystal walls that show the outside world.

I feel a scream from deep within. Echoing voices inside my mind that stun me.

These are the yells of my family.

I run downstairs. Beneath floor seventy’s offices, I return to the medical rooms and I see paramedics going downstairs too. I crash into them. They’re not ghosts anymore. They’re hopeless, in panic, hasty and reckless and have an innocent face in which I can see their tears, their grief and their impotence. Their stretchers carry patients now to a place I never knew. They don’t even speak and don’t care about my presence. Just have something internal to fight for.

And in the highest chaos, I see two of them coming down by the stairs. Carrying three patients in their stretchers. The yells I heard on last floor is now very loud and bleed my ears. I see the patients faces.

They are my family.

Crying in impotence and accepting I couldn’t save the past, I stare at the resplendent starless sky showing through an enourmous hospital window.

And in total desperation, I ran towards it.

Jumping into the void.

I’m falling down from more than sixty floors. I felt the consuming vertigo of my memories, my traumas, and my whole life.

But it doesn’t even matter.

I ended everything to be reborn.

My body lies now on the soil, covered in blood. There are many people around, ambulances, police… high noises of sirens and terrified crowds reverberate within me, but they ceased to hear when my brain and heart finally stopped.

The city and its people fades. My flesh dissappears. The veil dies.

I am reborn.

The absolute silence comes and memory awakens, I rise high towards the sky when I see a familiar face next to me.

The kite is smiling.

There’s something eternal in the freedom of a smile.

I started to hear the subtle sound of sea waves. And I look down. The tides have risen. All oceans have risen and left submerged the cities and the earth.

I’m now at the top of the world, floating above the sea.

And I look up and see a star. A closed, crying eye. Finally I could comprehend what those beings were pointing beyond the sky.

The eye opens, and I smile again. I see her iris and I see her pupil.

It’s the Moon.

[bluenpjm]

horus academy 2 — bts x oc

© horus academy | all rights reserved. do not repost, translate or claim as your own. if you find this work elsewhere besides the three blogs stated, please report it to any of the writers.

@singguks × @socksjinie × @bluenpjm

summary: in a school where greek methods rules, not everything is as clear as it appears to be. heart, mind, soul, and body. those are the teams of the horus academy and boarding school. but deep within the long corridors, lies dark secrets. the so-called loving families formed in the shapes of teams begin to tear when an anonymous source unravels their deepest secrets.

genre: high school au | mystery au | social au | angst | fluff

pairing: OT7 × OC's

rating: PG13

word count: 5.7k

warnings: foul language

a/n: after a long time away, we are back with another chapter! writing this was happiness and we are eager to hear your feedback and theories! love, alison.

chapters. 01, 02, 03.

Jungkook hadn’t been able to leave his new dorm and his new roommate ever since he last received that text. Taehyung was a little curious at first about who could have been texting the new guy on his very first day but quickly shrugged off any doubts or questions he might’ve had as soon as his eyes landed on his console. Jungkook was relieved about it. Taehyung’s attention span was small and he didn’t even need to come up with an excuse about it. On the other hand, this also made it impossible to completely enjoy his time with his new roommate. The threatening text didn’t leave his mind and he kept on thinking about whom it could’ve been from.

Taehyung only felt sleepy around 4 am and it was then that Jungkook had a break from their dorm. He decided to go explore a little of his new home. The words felt foreign. 

“New home.” 

Even more when he said them out loud. It had been long since anything felt like home. Strangely so, not even 24 hours later, this place felt—or at least seemed—like it could be it for him. 

The room was even more beautiful at night. Namjoon was right. But he sensed that would be happening a lot. He stepped in front of the big window and admired the full moon. Everything about the scenery looked perfect... How the light shone through the wall of glass before him in shades of blue, how the feathers that hung from the ceiling moved slowly and peacefully as if dancing in the light. And looking straight again, seeing all that greenery, he stuffed his chest and let go of the air as if he could finally breathe again. As if he could finally start clean. It had been a long time since he saw how beautiful the stars were. He used to live on the outside of the city before he moved to Horus Academy and even though there weren’t many city lights nor skyscrapers, the stars didn’t shine as bright as here. 

Taking his phone out of his pocket, he was quick to access the camera. He snapped a picture and instantaneously started to analyze it. He took a step further and snapped another one and another. He had gone so close to the window, he could see how high above he was. And further away, where the woods began, he could distinguish two silhouettes. 

Snap. His thumb moved quickly as he captured picture after picture. His phone wasn’t the best, but as soon as he zoomed in on the shots, he immediately recognized the two people. The tall, skinny man, he promptly identified as one of the school's security guards. He remembered seeing some at the entrance of the school and the uniform was the same. The other person he could swear was Freya—the attentive and mysterious girl he had met earlier; Taehyung’s twin sister. 

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. 

His mind urgently rushed to the words Namjoon had told him earlier, about having a guard they could bribe to have some special privileges. What the hell is she doing at this time? And just as he finished that thought, his phone rang. 

Suddenly he felt as if he was going to pass out. He read the texts over and over again but it still felt like a surreal and concocted nightmare. And when reality hit him, he quickly scanned the whole window looking for someone who could be watching him. 

No one.

There was nothing but moonlight and shadows. 

He thought about forgetting it happened, his hand still gripping his cell phone hard, but he learned early in life nothing was that easy.

Just then it beeped again. 

He had battled hard to be where he was standing today, he couldn’t let this go. He wouldn’t dare risk it. 

With a heavy heart, he forwarded the pictures.

There was always something special about the first day of school. You could feel the electricity in the air. Late arrivals carried their bags in a rush, not wanting to wait a second more to reunite with their teams and friends. 

The corridors looked very different from yesterday. 

Jungkook wandered through the halls, a lot on his mind. He was sleepless and overwhelmed by the events of the night before, hoping that as soon as he reached Namjoon, he would ask about it and mention it as some sort of prank. His paranoid mind circled like a shark, trying to detect the scent of a bad joke instead of his old life coming at him like a destructive truck. 

He went down another flight of stairs and reached the main hall. His head snapped immediately at the sound of his name. 

"JK!" 

He recognized the faces, but couldn't quite spit out the names. 

"Elena. And she's Kaya." the blondie spoke. "We met yesterday." She said more in an asking tone, seeing if he remembered.

"Yeah, sorry. I remember!" He scratched the back of his neck. 

"How did you like your team?" 

"It’s- It's really nice!" He tried to awaken his brain, to focus on the present for the time being. "I paired with Taehyung and we're roommates now." 

"Good luck with that." Elena snorted and Kaya hit her on the side. 

"What's your first period then?" Kaya asked. But she already knew. 

"Humm," Both girls noticed his eyes going up as he thought. "History, with- I don't know." 

"Miss Geller?" The brunette asked.

"I think so, yeah." 

"Oh cool! So we'll see you there." 

He nodded and was about to walk, but stopped to look back at the girls. "The cafeteria?" 

"Take the next right, down that hallway." 

"Thanks!" 

Both girls waited for the boy to gain some distance from where they were standing before they spoke again. 

"He seems nice." Kaya began and Elena laughed. 

"He passed all the tests. There has to be something more there. Right?" 

But before Kaya could continue, someone interrupted her. "Absolutely." 

"There she comes, the sleeping beauty." Elena mocked the Psykhe girl as she walked down the stairs. 

"I was this close to banging down your door." Kaya looked serious but a smile was quick to form on her lips. 

"Yeah yeah… Let's go get some food!" Freya swung her arms and locked them at both girls' necks as they began to walk towards the cafeteria as well.

Freya’s POV

To say I hated the cafeteria ambiance was an understatement. I absolutely despised how people went there not to eat or socialize with their friends but to pose as something they were not or worse, all those attentive eyes looking for the next new thing to talk crap about. Still, I had to eat… And my group of friends was the kind to do magic and make things less unbearable. 

Somehow that was not the case today. 

Me and the girls stopped by the line to be served and I still could feel people’s eyes piercing me down while I merely took a tray. It frequently happened to have some people looking at us when we made an entrance every day on the space, I mean, Elena was pretty popular, my brother too… Our group in general. It was bound to happen and that was ok. But this felt different. 

Today the gaze was too much. The gaze was directed and scornful; the target being me. 

“I guess she wasn’t so stone-cold after all” a girl passed by with a friend ogling me down and chuckling. 

“Ok, what was that?!” Elena asked defensively. 

Kaya looked at me waiting for an answer but I didn’t have one, so I just shrugged it off and went back to paying attention to the line ahead of us. 

“Pretty wild, huh?”

I tried to be nonchalant about it while ordering pasta and choosing a juice but the truth was I didn’t pay attention to my order; I just wanted to get out of there. The girls kept looking around from time to time when a remark was made and I could sense their frustration for not knowing what was going on. That only helped me get more anxious. 

That claustrophobic situation dissipated a bit once we stepped outside where the big tables were located. We made our way to our usual spot, both Elena and Kaya exchanging comments on what was happening. I couldn’t say a word. 

People that passed by us kept looking and gossiping like I was a walking freak show. And the closer I got to our table the more I could see something was very off. Namjoon was sitting down with a pensive facade, both of his hands intertwined right in front of his face as if he was thinking about his next chess move. Hoseok was next to Jimin, both standing up and looking at us with pity looks. Well, looking at me, to be exact. The new guy was straddling the bench, and while I could only see his side profile, he was clearly fidgety and nervous. Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, nor was Jin. And Tae… 

This was bad. 

“Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Elena said, placing her tray down on the table, not so gently. 

“Well…” Jimin trailed off. 

Kaya went over to her brother, “Guys, seriously, you’re freaking me out”

Taehyung simply took the tray out of my hand, discarded it on the table, and pulled me by the arm. We took ten steps or less, and I felt the need to finally say something. 

“It’s me isn’t it?” I saw myself asking, “Of course it’s me. What is it? Is it bad?” 

He didn’t answer right away. He just sighed, reached for his cell phone in the back pocket of his trousers, and searched for something. And then he gave it to me. Zoomed-in pictures of myself giving a pack of cigarettes to the guard right next to the boys' dorm popped on the screen along with the phrase “Guess our heartless girl isn't so heartless after all. Or at least she likes to get around when all we angels do is sleep. I wonder who the wonder boy might be. Suggestions? I'll enjoy hearing your comments on the hallways.”. 

“Who is it?” 

“Who is who?” I answered him without having much to say. It wasn’t my secret to share but it definitely blew up on me… Shit. 

“Who is it that you’re seeing?” Taehyung insisted. 

I took a glance over at Kaya and her eyes said everything she couldn’t out loud. I knew she was panicking but above all feeling apologetic. I gave her a brief smile. I would never snitch.

“It’s no one, really” I shrugged. 

He sighed again and wet his lips, “If you don’t want to tell me yet it’s fine, just- Why-” He paused clearly wanting to scold me but holding himself back. “Who would do something like this to you?” He said finally more controlled. 

“That’s what I want to find out.” 

Narrator’s POV

“Guys,” Namjoon called out to the twins, bringing their attention back to the group. “Are you okay?” His question was directed to the girl. 

“Honest-” Taehyung started before getting side elbowed by Elena, who was frowning at him and mouthing are you dumb? under her breath. 

“It’s bullshit,” Freya said simply, shrugging. 

“We’ll find out who did it,” Jimin gave her a reassuring smile. For a second she could almost feel better. But the feeling disappeared as soon as it came. 

“And we’ll burn them onto the ground.” Elena side-hugged her friend and the latter laughed. “I mean it.” 

“Oh, I think we all know that,” Hoseok spoke seriously. 

“Ah, come here kid. Do you want my toast?” Jin, who had finally appeared out of nowhere tapped on the marble bench, signaling for Freya to sit next to him. Obviously, someone had already filled him in on the gossip. 

“You’re offering me your food? It’s really that bad, huh?” She said keeping her usual playful side. 

The group’s conversation kept flowing and the weight that was on Freya’s shoulders lifted a little bit. Sooner than they all wanted, the bell rang and they parted ways. The youngest bunch of the group, Jimin, Taehyung, Kaya, Freya, Elena, and Jungkook left together for History. The latter had been rather quiet in his corner, eating breakfast while the group talked. The idea of coming clean to Namjoon faded in his mind as he heard their resolutions to find who had done it. Besides the guilt, Jungkook was still trying to figure everyone out, one false step could blow his golden ticket to this school. 

Hoseok on the other hand rambled about how Namjoon would have to be his personal tutor as they walked together “to hell”, as Hoseok would describe math class. Jin, who walked alongside them too, grabbed his phone, trying to reach his classmate, Yoongi, who was most likely going to be late.

But Yoongi wasn’t sleeping as Jin suspected. Had it been any other day, he was most likely waking up at the first bell. It usually made him have to sprint between the 15 minutes that separated the first bell from the second. He used to describe it as his daily moment of exercising. A sprint from his dorm room to his classes. He would be out of breath and his ears would usually be ringing, his mouth tasting of copper, but that wasn’t as bad as having to hear his teachers scold him for almost being late. That almost always made him smirk. 

That wasn’t today’s case though. Yoongi had been up from the moment Hoseok started banging on his and Jin’s door talking about some rumor involving Freya whilst he pretended to be asleep. 

He crossed the nowempty halls of Horus at a fast speed. His mind was filled with a million thoughts and it was giving him a headache. He stopped in front of classroom 103. He could hear Miss Geller’s voice clearly through a bored class. As he peeked from the little window on the door, he could see his friends. 

Taehyung was napping, using Kaya as a shield from Miss Geller’s eyes. And next to him was Freya, a sharpie in her hand as she doodled on her brother’s arm. Elena was looking ahead and was the first to notice him behind the door. She furrowed her brows inquiring and was about to grab her phone to text him when Yoongi knocked on the door. 

“Excuse me, Miss Geller-” Yoongi’s head peaked through after being given permission to enter the class. “Could you excuse Freya for a second? I’m here on behalf of the Psykhe team. It will only take a minute.” 

“Oh, of course!” The teacher ignored all the confused looks and how long it took Freya to get up from her seat. 

Whispers immediately started as she made her way to the door. The girl could punch any single one of them. She wished she could. But it would only make it worse to say or do anything. Instead, she looked ahead, focusing on the boy waiting for her in the corridor. 

Closing the door behind her, Freya looked confused at Yoongi. “What’s happening in Psykhe?” 

He smiled softly at her selfless being, “Nothing’s happening, I just wanted to get you out of the class…” 

“Oh,” 

Yoongi took a quick glance again at the small window of the door and could clearly see some people trying to pry on their conversation. How he hated this kind of situation… He took her hand and pulled her further away in the corridor before talking again. 

“Let me help you.” He said simply. 

“Help me…?” 

“Look, I saw the pictures and people won’t let you be, you know they won’t,” He stated and that made her sigh. Freya knew he was right. Although the year had just begun, everyone would hold onto gossip if they could to keep things entertaining with the lack of events in a place like this. It was bad. “I mean, it’s you we’re talking about here. It’s been two years since you arrived and you still haven’t hooked up with anyone. Of course, people are curious…” 

“Why though?! Why can’t people just let me be-” She raised her voice a bit, finally taking out of her chest the anger she kept buried inside all this time. Yoongi pressed her shoulder softly offering comfort. 

“I know… You know I do.” He said, making her look at him, “That’s why I’m offering to help you. At least to make this die down quicker than it would.” 

“And how would that be?”

“I’m going to say you were with me-”

“Yoongs, what? Of course not. I won’t drag you-” She started stubbornly. 

“Listen to me.” He reassured her, “We are friends aren’t we?” And to that, she nodded her head. “Then it’s no problem to me if that means I’m helping you out. Plus everyone always talks about how close we are.” Yoongi’s words came hushed, and he glanced around from time to time to make sure they weren’t being heard. 

“Still… I don’t know.” She closed her eyes, sighing, and opened them again to look at the boy in front of her to say, “I just don’t want to fake anything or wear a mask… Let alone put you through that too.”

“We just have to keep doing what we do,” He smiled, “Simple as that. No need to fake anything. People will just think we rather kiss each other behind closed doors.” 

She had to be honest… his trail of thoughts was very much correct. People would believe that for sure. Especially because of what he said before, they were indeed very close and people always assumed something would happen between the two eventually. 

With a lack of response, he just insisted again, as he knew she was a heavy thinker, “Can you trust me?” 

“You know the answer to that is always yes.” 

He closed the distance to place a soft kiss on her forehead, “Then I’m helping you.” 

“Thank you, really.” She involved him in a tight hug. 

Freya could feel all that burden dissipating the more she tightened the embrace. And he held her there for a few minutes more before letting her go to class again. 

The sudden appearance of this new targeting account had the group of friends in distress. A quick look at the profile made them see that it was completely anonymous. The only valuable information available was that it was someone from Horus. But that didn’t make it any easier. Studying, or even better, living at Horus was like living in your own world, completely forgotten from the real one. 

Freya had been their first target but whomever You was, they knew how to make an introduction. 

The girls were quick to deduce that You wasn’t from Dianoia. Kaya would never post something without confirming its veracity. It wasn’t someone that was interested in exposing their real selves, either. They just wanted to create chaos. The girls felt as if they were on an episode of Gossip Girl. And as they were scrolling through the new profile, a notification sound could be heard. 

Freya sighed, hands shooting for her forehead. She massaged her temples, her head feeling like it was going to explode. Why her? There were so many more interesting things to talk about other than her bribing a guard with a pack of cheap cigarettes. Like, why wasn’t anyone talking about freedom of speech when it came to customizing their own uniforms? Why follow a regime as if they were all in the army or something?, she indignantly dialogued with herself in her head.

She scrolled back to the top post. It already had 381 interactions and the numbers just kept on growing. Fucking rich kids and their big mouths. She looked at the picture and zoomed in even more. That angle, she could swear- But no, it couldn’t be. 

“Fuck,” She whispered under her breath. 

“What?” Kaya asked as she tried to make eye contact. 

“I need to test something.” And with that, she jumped from the front wall they were sitting on, leaving her friends behind filled with worry. 

Freya crossed the front garden of the school in a blink of an eye. Moving around Horus alone after the “scandal” was even harder, so she focused on looking forward, pretending not to notice all the glances she was receiving. Did everyone see the post? She pondered. The headphones helped a lot though. 

Once she stepped inside, she walked across the big hallway and directed herself towards the marble stairs, three flights up and she had reached her final destination: The wolf’s den. 

Opening the door never felt so irksome and she could feel herself hesitating… It can’t be… right? she thought to herself.  

Thankfully the room was empty, probably because the bell would ring soon for the second class of the day to start. Taking the headphones off she mustered all the might she had and made her way towards the big window she adored so much—what made her fall in love with this room so dearly in the first place.

As soon as she looked through it to see the view she took a step back feeling dizzy, “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!” 

“Are you ok?” She heard someone say, snapping her out of the train of thoughts that emerged, as her suspicions were confirmed.

“Ah, yes- hm… Yeah, I’m fine” She rambled before recomposing herself. 

Jungkook walked towards her and the window and she snapped her head back to the view once she saw him moving. “You’re afraid of heights?” he asked. 

“What?” Freya looked at him confused, “Oh, yes, a bit.”

He chuckled at her confusion but quick comeback. Her head must’ve been in a distant place. “You shouldn’t be so close to the window then”. 

She looked at him again and saw the boy avoiding her eyes by looking at the view instead. She didn’t know what to say or what to think about him yet, but something about Jungkook was intriguing and magnetic… So she said nothing. Just hummed and looked down. 

“I’m-” he took a breath, “I’m sorry this is happening to you…” Jungkook’s head was rushing. He was too afraid to say the wrong thing but he knew for certain that he wanted to apologize. After all, this was his fault. Hadn’t he taken those pictures, hadn’t he been up at that hour, hadn’t he been introduced to Taehyung and Namjoon, hadn’t he been put in Psykhe, hadn’t he had the life he had… Maybe the girl’s life after him wouldn’t be so damn hard. 

And something about how he said it, to a complete stranger like her, made Freya want to at least open herself a little bit. “You know what’s worse?” She asked pensively, her eyes glued to the spot where she had been yesterday by night. 

Jungkook finally mustered the courage to properly look at her, “What?” His voice was shaky, reacting to her own that felt so intense. 

“The pictures were taken from here,” her heart sank at the thought of it. So did his, “It was someone from Psykhe.” 

She held his gaze with her own, and for a second there he felt trapped like a deer caught in headlights. 

Ding dong ding.

The school’s bell rang and the boy could finally breathe again. 

The second class passed in a blink. Philosophy was always a mess, their teacher Mrs. Torres, although a sweetheart, believed it was important to give the students freedom enough and that always meant that people would lose control over the boundaries they were not supposed to lose. Maybe that was her intention, to observe how they reacted without rules.  

Jimin kept chatting with Jungkook, presenting him to other classmates and such. Elena would get some notes down here and there between conversations with Kaya who was so nervous about the whole recent situation she couldn’t actually focus. Some guys kept joking around in the back tables of the class, some people would occasionally get up and go join other groups… Freya sat down at a table with her brother and entertained herself with doodling to pass the time while he was sleeping yet again. Probably had spent the whole night playing video games, she assumed. 

When the class resumed, the three girls exchanged looks knowing exactly where to meet next for a private chat. They needed it. 

Elena and Kaya barged in front of everyone towards their dorm room since they shared it, especially because Kaya was not in the mood to meet her brother as they always did. They managed to dodge every single one of their friends and arrive safely at their little haven. 

Not fifteen minutes passed when both of them heard the sequence of knocks on the door indicating Freya was ready to come in. Kaya quickly opened up for her friend. 

“Gee, I thought I wouldn’t be able to escape my brother and Jimin this time,” Freya said, launching herself on Kaya’s bed. Elena was already sitting at their tiny desk laughing at the situation. 

Kaya peeped quickly outside before closing the door and rushed towards the window to shut the blinds. 

“What is this? What are you doing?” Elena asked between laughter. Freya only lifted partially her head from the bed to see what was going on. 

“We have to be very careful from now on guys, seriously.” She answered in a serious manner.  “This crazy person managed to see what went down last night, imagine what they can hear too.” 

And she was right. It was all very new for them this kind of attack. They couldn’t be sure if it would be something that would go on, or if it was just a one-time thing. Something a little jackass felt was funny to tease Freya with. As far as they knew, someone was for sure keeping an eye on them. 

Freya sat on the bed with the comment, “She’s right.”

“But how did this bitch even manage to see you out there at night? Like- It just simply doesn’t make sense.” Elena reflected. 

“It was someone from Psykhe, you know…” Freya commented quietly and dispiritedly. 

“Say what now?!” Elena got up from the chair. 

“How…? You know who it was?” Kaya asked. 

With a heavy sigh, Freya proceeded to tell her friends about the discovery she had made during the first two classes and how sad she was to be able to cross-check that. As if it wasn’t bad enough to be exposed the way she was, it all came from a mind inside her own team. She just wanted to know why someone would do this, and more, who was that someone. 

“Oh, God…” Kaya said in a sad tone while sitting down on the floor, “I’m so sorry Freya. Truly. This is all my fault.” Her hands tangled in her brunette hair. 

“It’s not your fault, Kaya, you know that.” Elena comforted her friend. 

“Exactly, K.” Freya added, “Plus, better be me than you honestly. Imagine if your brother found out…” 

“But you did nothing!” The girl exploded with guilt, “That’s the worst part. You were bribing the guard for me. You didn’t even do anything.” 

“I swear to God that once we find out who this You is…” Elena started. 

“Think about it,” Freya tried to cheer them up, “At least now I can bribe him freely for you without being paranoid about someone seeing the situation.” 

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Kaya laughed, “As if I would do it again after this!” She threw a pillow at her friend. 

“Oh we know damn well you will,” Elena said maliciously and they all filled the room with cheerful laughter. 

If they knew something You would never be able to change, this was it. Moments like this were only theirs, without prying eyes or speedy mouths, just them and their little secrets. Their friendship. 

Jungkook had spent his entire afternoon looking for a club to join. As the headmaster had mentioned, at least one extracurricular activity was mandatory. Namjoon presented him a flyer with all his options during their lunch break and he had taken the decision too seriously, a chance of joining an Ivy League directly through Horus if he excelled amongst all the others was exactly what he was aiming for. Horus was his new chance, his new beginning and he was ready to take it by the horns. 

But now, as he walked towards his dorm, he was feeling completely exhausted. 

He had checked out a couple of sports teams, the photography club, the music club, the art club… And once he presented himself, they all wanted him to join, even though spots were limited and tryouts lasted until Friday. He was the golden boy. The one who had come to Horus Academy without a scholarship or a rich family to support him financially. Just out of pure, sheer, talent. 

And that made him the perfect target. 

You see, at Horus, no one could be better than Sarx. Not couldn’t… They just didn’t have the capacity for such excellence. If you hadn’t been placed at Sarx, you weren’t worthy of victory, of glory. Or at least that was how they thought about it. So, freshmen could take a deep breath for tonight, as the hazing was meant for the name that was on the tongue of every single student of the school. 

“Psykhe really is proving their worst this year.” Jungkook heard someone say, followed by dry laughter. He shouldn’t have looked back—as he wanted to stay away from trouble—but he had to see who was the asshole that was trashing his newfound family. 

“First, that bitch bribed the guard, and now- you.” Another guy commented.

“Dude, what the hell is your pro-” Jungkook launched toward the guy, blood rushing as he could feel his heartbeat in his ears. But he was stopped since he was outnumbered. 

“He wanted to give us a fight!” The guy who insulted Freya and him mocked,  “That’s the thing about wolves… Without their pack, they’re worthless.” He finished with greeted teeth. “Grab him!” 

One of the many things that annoyed the students of Horus was the mandatory curfew. They were already stranded from civilization and as if that wasn’t bad enough, everyone had to be in their dorms by 10 pm. But many were the ones that found the most creative ways to get past the security guards that rounded the hallways at night. 

That had proven to have an expensive price for Freya, who was now laying on her bed, headphones in as OASIS’ I’m Outta Time played loudly. She was at peace. After such a loud day—even when there was no one around—she needed this moment to herself. The fact that her roommate Tzuyu wasn’t around made it even better. It wasn’t like they had chosen to be roommates. They were automatically paired through the system and that showed. 

Her door swung open however and a flustered Tzuyu entered the room quickly. Freya felt her eyes roll but refused to get up from her happy space to even have a glance at the girl. But it was in vain. As soon as she opened them again, she saw her roommate standing right by her side.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the living shit out of me!” Freya jumped, sitting on the bed. 

“Oh, Freya!” The girl pouted as she sat on the bed by her roommate’s side. “I’ve been looking for you the whole day! How are you!?” 

Freya was caught off guard by the way Tzuyu grabbed her neck tightly, pulling her into a hug she most certainly didn’t want. Even worse was the sound her headphones made as they hit the ground. 

She was speechless but was thankfully saved by the sound of her phone. 

“Oh, I wonder who that could be!” Tzuyu remarked. “I’ll go take a shower. If you need to talk, we can even do pedicures later!” 

Freya was left alone yet again in her dorm but this time all her peace of mind was gone. The nerve of that girl. She grabbed her headphones from the ground, making sure they still worked, before grabbing her phone to see a new notification from You. Her breath picked up a little as she waited for the screen to load the most recent tweet. 

Night had fallen quickly and there wasn’t a sound to be heard at Horus. The security guards’ steps echoed through the corridors. Everyone was sound asleep, as the wind slumbered their dreams. Their windows faced the back of the school where a beautiful scenery of green adorned the students' eyes. It was dense, and most of it unexplored. Every time a student wished to wander through them, they had to fill out a form from the secretariat. Rumors had it that once you got too deep into the woods, you would never be able to find your way back. So, it was school policy to never wander around those parts unannounced. 

If it weren’t for the wind, someone would’ve probably heard Jungkook. After hours of struggling, he finally managed to remove the tape from his mouth. His hands, torso, and legs were tightly wrapped around a big oak tree. He couldn’t quite place how long he had been there. He screamed for help, but after some time, with a hoarse throat, he realized how useless it was. No one was coming and no one could hear him. He decided to save his strength for when the sun came up. Maybe then someone would be able to notice him and set him free. 

As he stood there, his mind kept on bringing up the only two names he had managed to hear through the struggle of the ambush he had suffered earlier. He had been carried out by 3 guys as another one followed ahead. They addressed him as BamBam. The other, a girl, stuck by them enjoying the situation, probably acting as their vigilante. Tzuyu was her name. Taking deep breaths to keep himself warm during the night, his mind kept going on loops about this. Those two weren’t the ones in charge… But he needed to remember those names by morning if he wanted a chance of getting back at whoever those guys were. 

His heart was racing, too anxious to get out of there,  and once he managed to, he would definitely find a way to put Sarx in their place for good. 

next chapter

[swcetnight]

It’s Definitely You || kth (m.) 1

synopsis:

Working as a barista in NYC has its perks, but when your ultimate dream of being on the Broadway stage tends to come crumbling down, the only thing that raises your spirits is the comfort of a complete stranger… who seems to have known you for far longer than you thought.

masterlist here

→ pairing: taehyung x barista!reader (also musical theatre performer cause I had to)

→ genre: fluff, angst, future smut | strangers(ish) to lovers… i won’t give the truth away... gonna have to read and find out for yourself ;))

-> warnings: self doubt, adorable plant names... there's really not many warnings for this chapter!

→ word count: 7,973

authors note:

alrighty everyone... here we go! (i’m so nervous) this is the first chapter of this series (which it took me 50 years to figure out whether I wanted this to be a series or a two shot... lets just say that it's gonna be a long one, so I think that a series is the best way to go)! this story is really near and dear to my heart, so 1. I really hope you enjoy it and 2. I hope all of you know how hard it was to write this into words... my goodness. now, make sure you look for clues throughout this series... there's a secret in here that won't be revealed for a while ;)) but if any of you have ideas, please be sure to send an ask while we wait to find out together! anyways, I hope you enjoy !!

authors thanks:

a HUGE thank you to @hantaev and @monvante for beta-reading and being so so supportive of me and this little (but not so little) story... y'all truly have no idea how helpful you've been and how thankful I am to be friends with both of you! forreal, y'all are the greatest and I'm sending you all my love!!

also, if you are enjoying this story, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask (on or off anon) and let me know your thoughts, feelings, theories, etc!! i would love to hear from all of you 🤍

If time-travel existed, you would be on the first time machine and head back to 2 years ago. A time when you had a free schedule and were able to go out on Friday nights. A time when you felt confident in yourself and were raring to pursue theatre. A time when you didn't have this job (cause apparently, theatre is impossible to get into) that forces you awake at 4 in the morning for the opening shift.

You can't say you don't love your Barista job because you do. Still, when your alarm wakes you from the beautiful dream of performing on the big stage, you have to use everything within yourself to crawl out of your sheet cocoon… and that is unacceptable.

What's even more unacceptable is the fact that your co-worker, Jimin, hasn't arrived at the Academia Cafe yet. You have about 30 minutes to prepare for the morning peak; brew coffees, set up the bakery items, clear the boards "coffee of the day," etc. The problem is, it takes up all of the 30 allotted minutes— and you can't start prepping early because Jimin has the keys to the cafe.

You’ve worked at the Academia Cafe for about a year now, taking a break from your endless theatre audition schedule— since that was getting you absolutely nowhere. No matter how badly you want it, nothing seems to work. No matter how many times you practice, it never seems to be good enough. Let’s just say, you took this job at the cafe because you were over the repetitive let downs.

… But here you are, with a “Jimin being late” let down.

[To: Jimin ☕️] hey, you almost here? times ticking, keys!

You stuff your phone into your winter coat pocket, the brown material catching snowflakes as they fall gently from the cloudy sky. You love this weather; it's always been your favorite. When you were little, you used to pretend to be a dragon; running all over your front yard and releasing heavy breaths that chilled in the air and spread like smoke. You don't enjoy the cold, but the entire feel of winter has you cozying up in a blanket with hot cocoa and a good book… nothing could beat that.

A buzz in your pocket catches your attention.

[From: Jimin ☕️] Hey! Look up.

Your eyes immediately lift to see Jimin smiling a few feet away, shuffling through the snow as he drags the keys out of his pocket. He's sporting a heavy blue coat that reaches down to his knees — making his short stature appear even smaller — topped with a matching blue beanie. Despite his tardiness today, you’ve always been fond of Jimin. He's like a ray of sunshine, beaming through the skyscrapers of the city and making everyone around him happy just by flashing a single smile. Honestly, you wish you could sneak some of that happiness from him and lock it somewhere safe... so you can save it for a time when you need it most.

"Your timing is impeccable." He laughs, gently placing the keys into the front door lock. "You texted me right as I was rounding the corner."

"I'm telling you, Jimin; we're always on the same wavelength."  Smirking, you make your way through the doors of the cafe, greeted by the warmth that surrounds you like your sheet cocoon did this morning, but accompanied by the smell of fresh coffee. "Except for the fact that you, my friend, are late, so now we only have twenty-eight minutes until opening."

Old, rustic book pages litter the cafe's dark walls, executing the dark academia theme flawlessly. You have to give the interior designers a hand, what with the black stools and high dark wood counters etched with different story pages. You wonder if anyone took the time to read the stories that covered the cafe; maybe the stories moved them in a personal way. Maybe there was a reason why they read them, a part of the butterfly effect of their life.

With a quick survey of the main room, you shuffle into the back to put your belongings away. "You would think it would be less busy on the streets because of the snow," Jimin calls, already working on the first batch of light roast coffee. "But unfortunately for me, that was not the case, and I nearly lost my life multiple times on the way here because of how slick it is."

A laugh emits from your lips, echoing in the backroom as you throw your apron over your head.

You begin with date labeling all of the pastry items, placing them accordingly onto the pastry cart; croissants, muffins, scones, etc. Then, you move onto organizing syrups and setting toppings along the bar where drinks are made. Bar is your personal favorite position-- since you're able to make the drinks… Plus, you're so busy that your shift goes by way faster. The sooner you're done, the sooner you get to go home and sleep.

“All set?” Jimin questions when you finish setting the steaming pitchers next to the espresso machine, tossing the rag he used to wipe down tables into the sanitizer bin. You give him a nod, taking a quick once over of the bar. “Alright,” he claps, “let's do this.”

This morning runs like every Friday morning, busy and fast. The sounds of coffee glasses clinking and the calling of customer names at the hand-off station echoes through the air.

Ahhhh, the scenery in coffee shops; the quiet hush over the room as soft jazz plays over the speakers. It’s soothing, all encompassing, and extremely helpful for motivation… You used to go to a local cafe for homework when you were still in school.

You take a breath, relaxing against the back counter as you overhear a conversation a group of regulars are having. It’s the usual small talk: the weather, families, sharing pictures of recent events. Coming up with questions of the day for customers becomes easier after knowing their stories, so you subconsciously listen in often.

Because of this, you almost don't notice the man waiting at the register, wholly delved into the neighboring conversation— only looking over when you hear your name called.

"Y/n?"

You turn your head, catching eyes with the stranger behind the counter who holds his credit card ready. The first thing you notice is that he's young, probably around your age, wearing a brown turtleneck and white slacks. His eyes are dark, standing above his perfectly sculpted nose and lips. His hair is dark as well, forehead drowning within the wavy bangs that fall over his eyebrows as he takes you in. To be completely honest, he's probably the most handsome man you've had the pleasure of seeing… is that weird? You don’t know him… maybe that is weird.

The second thing you notice is that he looks completely anxious, hands grasping the edge of the counter like there's a thousand-foot drop below him. Why is he looking straight at you while doing that? Maybe you should call Jimin to take ove-

“Is it really you?” He questions, taking you aback.

"I-" You clear your throat, walking forward to meet him at the register, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

With an intake of breath, he releases the counter as he studies you. Was he… crying? You swear his eyes were not this bloodshot three seconds ago.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?...possibly.

You shake your head slightly, “I… I’m sorry. I don't-"

Wait… is he a regular? You swear you haven't seen him come into the cafe before. Shoot.. What if he is? The number one thing your boss has made perfectly clear: remember the regulars, so they come back and feel at home; recognized. Customer connection was the most important thing at the Academia Cafe… He's probably a regular.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

He's staring at you. Full-on staring, jaw slacked. Shifting uncomfortably in your keds, you eye beside you to see Jimin working away at a macchiato. You consider changing places, nearly walking over to him before the customer speaks again.

"It's- It's Taehyung."

You force a smile, nodding while he continues to stare at you. He seems a bit more hesitant, his eyes looking in different directions but ultimately falling back onto your own. Even if he tried, he couldn't hide the rosy color that spreads onto his cheeks. What was this guy's problem?

"Taehyung! Awesome, well, what can I get for you today?" You chirp, attempting to brighten up your increasing discomfort. He might have mistook you for someone else, you decide, jumping back into your customer service personality: kind and quick to the point.

Taehyung doesn't move, training his eyes on you. You've never had a man's undivided attention before, since boyfriends were never an option. When you were a teenager, you stayed home most of the time in your hometown, and the boys there were all just in it to take your pants off. You avoided them and never really caught their attention, so you can't help the uncomfortable blush that grows on your cheeks. It’s short lived though, your nerves dissolving as soon as you notice a single tear fall onto the front of his shirt.

Oh. Okay, he’s definitely crying.

"Sir..." You begin, leaning in closer to avoid drawing attention. "Is everything alright?"

"I…" The shake in his voice is evident as he puts his credit card back into his wallet, still refusing to break eye contact. “Excuse me." Without another word, he turns on his heel and rushes towards the exit, clocking a customer in the shoulder in his rush. He apologizes quickly, bowing to them before glancing behind to make eye contact with you once more.

You wish you could read minds, wondering what the hell is going through his brain… but you notice the tiniest gleam of a hopeful smile that hides on his lips.

And then he’s gone.

“I swear it was the strangest thing, Jimin.” You speak nervously, tugging at the strings of your apron and lifting it over your head. It had been busy all day, despite a quick thirty minute break when everyone had left and the cafe was suddenly a deserted island. You appreciated the busyness, it made your shift go by faster. Right now, all you wanted to do was go home, eat a fat bowl of icecream and distract yourself from the events of today with a movie. Thank God your shift was over.

“Maybe he thought you were someone else?” Jimin insists, taking a bite into the extra Blueberry Muffin you’d accidentally heated when you were distracted by the events that occurred earlier.

“Yeah? Well, I must be the spitting image because he was totally freaked out.”

“You never know, y/n. Or, maybe he just used that as an excuse to talk to you.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, throwing your rolled up apron at him harshly before you grab your belongings.

“Ha, ha, you’re hilarious. This guy looked like he had seen his ex… He was crying. I don’t think he was into me.”

“Maybe his eyes were watering from the cold wind?” He offers.

“Enough to cry actual tears?” You scoffed, “C’mon Jimin.”

He shrugs defensively, picking up his things so the two of you can head out a few minutes earlier than usual. Whenever the baristas have a chance to leave early, they take it. “If he comes back, then ask him: hey, dude, what’s your deal?”Jimin works his way through the cafe, throwing an excess chair upside down onto the table with the rest of them.

You hold your hand above your heart, which is still beating at a faster pace due to this discussion. Can hearts even beat this fast? This can’t be healthy… “Oh wow, you have such a way with words. That definitely won’t make him feel uncomfortable!”

Yes. Sarcasm coping mechanism.

“Y/n.” Jimin meets you at the door and puts his hands on your shoulders, making extra sure he has your attention. “Go home. Don’t think too much into it… He was probably high or something and mistook you for his ex that dumped him and now he’s moping through the city and getting into all sorts of trouble and he’ll forget that he even came here tomorrow morning. Okay?”

You nod slowly, exiting the cafe with Jimin on your tail. "Don't worry, y/n." Jimin adds, "He probably won't even come back." He locks the door and gives you one last thumbs up before heading in the opposite direction, calling out at the last second. “See you tomorrow!”

The forced smile on your face appears again (looks like this was a regular occurrence today), waving him goodbye.

Yeah… tomorrow.

Jimin was right. The handsome crying stranger was probably never coming back.

It has been a few weeks since you met him for the first time. Now, it feels like a distant memory. He hadn’t shown up to the cafe the day after the encounter, or the day after that, or the day after that, and eventually you’d come to the conclusion that he was probably never going to show his face again out of pure embarrassment. You can’t say you blame him. You’d be embarrassed too if you stared at and cried over a random stranger.

Still, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment... You'd kind of hoped you could figure out what his problem was, maybe ease his mind a little if you really did look like a past lover. You would make sure he knew that it wasn't you. What if he was avoiding the cafe because he literally thought you were someone else? Great… now you just feel bad.

"Y/n? Are you listening?" Jimin beckons over the phone.

"Huh? What?" You bounce back to reality, the soft comforter of your bed lying beneath you as you stare out the window. Thanks to your wonderful apartment search, you have a beautiful view of the city. Jimin had helped you find a place when you first moved here. The two of you had met when you visited to check out the first apartment options; he even took you out for a drink afterward to celebrate the first days' completion. Jimin had immediately clicked with you, as he does with everyone-- he was the kind of person to make friends insanely quickly. He must've been super popular in high school... unlike you.

"Y/n Y/l/n. I am giving you a chance to meet more people, and you're not even listening to me!" He cries, a light smack coming from the other end (probably from him slamming his hand on the table).

"Okay, okay-- I'm sorry. I'm listening now; what's up?"

With a deep sigh, he speaks again. "Party. My house. Tonight. It's not gonna be wild, don't worry... it's just a get-together with some of my friends, and you can have a few drinks if you would like to."

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you look over towards the clock on your nightstand. 5:00. "I don't know..." You begin, the bed shifting as you raise into a seated position. "I have to work tomorrow morn-"

"Already got your shift covered." He deadpans.

"What??"

"I already got your shift covered, so you have no excuse."

This sly guy.

"Who covered it?" You question, setting the audio to speaker-phone as you rummage through old text messages you haven't gone through (to prep for your "thank you for covering my shift" text message).

“Jin.” Noted.

“So…” Jimin continues, “are you coming?”

You can't even remember the last time you met new people, let alone gone to a party. Parties weren't necessarily your thing, especially with your busy schedule of workdays and auditions-- you just never had the time. You should be excited, right?

Well, you aren't.

"Jimin, I don't know… I'm not really a huge fan of parties." You mumble over the phone, picking at the lone string that popped out of its stitch on your comforter.

"Y/n, it's a small get-together, and it's not gonna be that kind of party. Believe me; it'll be really chill. It's just me, you, a few other coworkers, and some friends from my journalism class."

You chew at your bottom lip, looking over at your closet to see a single green cocktail dress that you hadn't worn in years. The memory of the dress was a good one… you had just finished up curtain call for The Addams Family and wore that dress to the after-party. It's a short sleeve, layered green dress that flows just over your knees, the same color sash tying the waist in a floppy bow. You blush at the memory of winning best dressed.

A pause, “Okay.” You conclude. “I’ll go.”

Jimin was honest about how chill it would be; soft music plays in the background as the group sits around the table playing cards. A basketball game is playing on the TV, desperate for attention as a player scores a 3-pointer, but no one is watching. Shuffling of cards is the only sound heard in the room as the game continues.

The atmosphere is calm… quiet…

“BULLSHIT.”

The immediate crumble of everyone’s mood causes the loud “HELL YEAH” that makes you jump in your seat.

"And that is how it's done, Ladies and Gentlemen." Jungkook (your fellow coworker) claps, his smile brighter than the sunset that seeps through the curtains on the opposite side of the room.

"And that's on cheating!" Jimin picks up the cards in the center of the table, gathering them clumsily back into a pile.

"It's called having skill," Jungkook replies, holding his hands up as he smirks at his opponents.

"No, it's called luck." Yoongi finalizes as he puts his hand of cards down on the table with a roll of his eyes. You haven’t met Yoongi before until tonight. He’s one of Jimin's friends from Journalism Class.

When you arrived, you decided to sit out of this round and learn to play before joining the game-- knowing you; you would've been crushed within the first minutes of playing. Card games weren’t exactly a skill of yours— board games on the other hand were where it’s at! That, and charades. For the sake of the party, a card game didn’t sound too bad this time around— so you poke at Jimin to give you the hand as he serves cards for everyone else.

“Wait, wait, wait—“ Jimin pauses, his hand disappearing beneath the table to grab his phone. “Hello?”

“I’m not Irish, so does luck really count?” Jungkook questions in a hushed whisper, nudging Yoongi in the side.

“Oh hey...yeah... it’s apartment 205.” Jimin continues.

“You’re so funny, Jk. Maybe you’ll actually become successful if you choose stand-up comedy rather than becoming a musician.” Yoongi replies nonchalantly, his cat-like eyes staring at the abandoned pile of cards before he seems to come to the decision to shuffle them himself. He gives you a small smile when you hold your hand out to signal that you’re joining in this round.

“Mhm, you can just walk on in! Doors unlocked… okay.. alright, see ya in a minute.” When Jimin's phone is down, Yoongi passes a hand of cards to him.

“Think you can beat me, Y/n?” Jungkook asks,”Since apparently these four can’t?” He motions to Yoongi and Jimin, glancing at the other two players of the game: Hoseok (Jimins other classmate) and his girlfriend, Faith.

“I think I can.” You say, smirking at the determined expression on Jungkooks face. Even if you weren’t very fond of card games, there was one thing you were even less fond of: losing.

“Mmm, might want to rethink that, but okay.” Jungkook replies. The two of you are death staring when the sound of the front door creaking open catches the attention of everyone else at the table. Jimin shoots out of his chair.

“Taehyung!”

You freeze.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?... possibly.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

"It's- It's-."

“Taehyung, you just missed me creaming everyone in bullshit.” Jungkook boasts. Your eyes are glued to the side of Jungkook's head, not daring to make eye contact with the source of your nerves the past few weeks.

“Oh did I?” The familiar, deep voice utters.

Okay.. you can’t help but look…

Holy—it’s actually him.

Immediate regret sinks into your soul when you see him. God, he’s even handsomer than you remember. A white woolen sweater hangs over a pair of his black pants, matched with white sneakers and accenting the head of dark wavy hair you’d been thinking about since you last saw him.

“Yep!” Jungkook continues. “And now Y/n’s about to get shitfaced too.”

The moment his eyes swiftly glance your way is the moment you crumble and turn your head back to Jungkook. You had hoped to make a sly remark, something along the lines of “in your dreams,” but you’re caught breathless from the tension in the room. The tension only the two of you are aware of. He must be tense too, right?

“I wouldn’t underestimate her.” You hear out of Taehyung's mouth, stealing a look at his face once more. He’s smirking at Jungkook, hanging his coat on the hook beside yours, oblivious of the way you’re basically dissecting his every move.

“Have you met Y/n?” Jimin questions, provoking Taehyung's eyes to fall back onto yours. This time, you don’t look away.

He doesn’t answer right away, making you more nervous than you should be— the silence deafening as you make to explain, “We-“

“No.” He states plainly, cutting you off. An innocent smile plays on his lips as he looks at Jimin and places his messenger bag beside the door.

No? Uhhh, was he not the guy who pretended to know who you were and cried in front of you without even explaining why? Nope, it’s definitely him.

“I’m Taehyung.” He calls in your direction, offering you a boxy smile and a small nod, “Don’t let Jungkook fool you. A girl pinched him when we were in grade school. He barely lasted five seconds before running away screaming.” Taehyung moved to the table, sitting beside the man he just brutally embarrassed.

“That girl was terrifying. She was way taller than all the other sixth graders. It was an unfair situation.” Jungkook protested, sinking in his chair as he shuffled the cards he held in his hand.

You couldn’t help but stare dumbly at Taehyung. Was he embarrassed of his outburst at the cafe that he just hopes you forgot about him? You guess you didn’t exactly meet each other, other than a few words exchanged before he disappeared out the door. He probably doesn’t want his friends to know about what happened. Or did he not recognize you and completely forgot about the whole ordeal?

Okay, it’s fine… totally fine.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” you laugh, “no more coming in late, Jk. Or I’ll have to pinch you.”

Jungkook merely rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. You see the crinkle in Taehyung's eyes as he laughs, the boxy smile taking root on his face again… a smile you’ve begun to enjoy the look of.

Hey. Snap out of it. This guy is so confusing. That’s a red card.

You straighten up in your seat, catching Jimin's attention when you move towards the kitchen, motioning with your hand to signal that you’re getting another drink. You have a feeling you’re gonna need some more alcohol to get through the evening.

Jimins place is clean, every knick knack placed neatly where it belongs; accompanied by the smell of potted plants that he keeps by his windows. Little name tags are attached to the plant stems: Flo, Sprout, Bob. He names his plants. Sweet.

He, like you, has a great view of the city too, a mid-size window perched above his breakfast nook where a small potted plant (quotabley named “bean”) grows. The city is bustling below as you reach for a beer, shrugging off the fact that you hate beer, but at least the taste will distract you from Tae-

“Hey.” You hear a soft voice call from the kitchen archway. When you turn you nearly drop the bottle out of your hand. Taehyung gives you a soft smile.

“Hey! Uh.. did you want a beer, or are you a wine guy?” You question, cringing at how much higher your voice sounds at his close proximity.

“I— Sorry, neither.” He starts, shoving his hands into his pockets as he makes his way around the island. “I uh- I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

You nod slightly, “Yeah of course… what’s up?”

“Um,” he’s nervous, you notice. “I just wanted to apologize about the whole thing at the cafe a few weeks ago.. I was— not in the right state of mind.” He meets your eyes hesitantly, “you just look like someone I know from a long time ago and it kind of.. took me by surprise, I guess.”

Jimin was right. You offer him a smile, shaking your head in disbelief, “You know what, I truly thought that was the reason… It’s totally fine. I’m not who you think I am, by the way.”

A flicker of something crosses his features at your comment, something you can’t quite pick up, but he changes it quickly to a smirk. “Obviously.” He laughs, “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.. I’m not weird, I swear.”

“Mmm, that’s what they all say.” You tease.

He laughs, a soft sound that you want to hear over and over again. “You’ve got me there.” He takes a pause, placing his hands on the island countertop. “Let’s start over? If that’s okay? I didn’t want to mention it when I came in because I wanted us to have a fresh start.”

You push down the questioning thought of who this woman he mistook you for was, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. “That’s totally okay.. clean slate?”

“Clean slate.” He finalizes.

“Straightforward,” You add, “I like it.”

He gives you a warm smile, the same edge in the way he looks at you dances in his eyes before he breaks it off, sliding the bottle of beer out of your own hand. “Actually, I think I will have a beer. You don’t seem like a beer drinker, anyway.” He turns quickly, smirking at you before striding out of the room. “Thanks, Y/n!”

Protestations die on your lips as he disappears from the room, your beer along with him. How rude. You can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you turn back to the cupboard, skipping the beer and pouring yourself a second glass of wine. You weren’t a beer drinker, after all.

Although you weren’t one for parties, you couldn’t help but admit the fact that you were having a good time. No, a great time. All of you are seated in Jimins living room; a plate of chips sits on the coffee table, which was the hot spot of the night (considering there’s hardly any remaining). Others in the group still have a glass of alcohol in their hands, the tipsiness evident by the slurring of their words. You had stopped yourself after half of your second glass, playing it safe since you still have to walk home after the party. You weren’t much of a drinker anyway-- your family history being the root of this decision.

It isn’t the games that made the night this enjoyable, or the food, or the movie that is currently playing over Jimin's television (which, by the way, is Moulin Rouge, because half of the room enjoys musicals, and the other half enjoys regular movies. So, you decided to settle on a movie musical). None of that matters, except the fact that you’ve never felt this carefree in a long time.

For one night, you can put aside your cafe job, auditions, and never-ending to-do lists and just have fun. Real fun. Even in the audition rooms, it has never been fun for you. It’s been nerve-wracking to a fault and always ends with a “thank you for taking the time, but we’ve decided not to accept you this time around,” or a callback, which ultimately concludes with the same grueling fate.

But this is different.

This is a group of people who genuinely want to spend time with you and get to know you… with no “not this time’s” or open-ended questions.

Especially with Taehyung. You’re surprised at how quickly the two of you seemed to hit it off, despite the awkward introduction. Now, it feels like he’s known you for years… in the best way. You’re comfortable talking to him, chatting together during the movie about the plot points or songs you find specifically endearing. You had initially planned to sit next to Jimin… but ended up next to Taehyung on the couch.

It just happened.

He enjoys musicals as well, you learn. Maybe not as much as you do, but at least he doesn’t despise them. He’s one of Jimin’s friends from their shared art class. He loves the color brown. His favorite food is watermelon. He does illustrations for Jimins journalism projects (which, in your opinion, are exceptional from the photos he showed you during the movie while the others were engulfed in the film). He wishes to pursue traveling journalism, where he draws what he sees rather than taking pictures. His whole aura is warm… like a heated blanket that envelopes you whole when you feel him shift beside you on the sofa. A small reminder that he’s still there.

Okay, you’re liking his presence way too much.

He finds romance movies corny but a guilty pleasure nonetheless. This, the reason why he agreed to watch Moulin Rouge despite the cheesiness in the beginning. In the end, it was anything but cheesy.

"Well, that was stupid." Jungkook scoffs, slamming the remote onto the neighboring loveseats' armrest. The once loud room filled with music is now quiet from the after-effects of the movie.

“I told you it was sad!” Jimin exclaims. The two of you had seen this movie before in theatres… and this was nothing compared to how the ending hit the first time. “Y/N was nearly choking. She was crying so hard when we saw it.”

An immediate blush rises onto your cheeks as you shake your head in defiance, trying to hide the tears that had been stinging your eyes for the last thirty minutes. “Who wouldn’t cry at that??”

“Taehyung probably didn’t. He never cries.” Hoseok deadpans. Ha. You can’t help but remember the tear that ran down his face in the cafe… He never cries?

With a quick look over your shoulder, you find that Taehyung is no longer seated on the couch. When did he get up? You attempt to shrug off your curiosity, pivoting back towards the chip table where only sad little crumbs remain. You were worrying way too much over a man you quite literally just met tonight… even if it felt like you’ve known him for much longer.

Taehyung eventually reappeared, stating that he had to use the bathroom— you ignored the fact that it took him a solid 30 minutes to get back to the party. It wasn’t your place to ask any questions, especially since he lifted a smile onto his face the second he reentered the room. See, y/n… nothing to worry about.

It wasn’t long before you insisted you head home, knowing that you’d curse yourself in the morning if you stayed out past the sunrise. If you did, you’d sleep through tomorrow, and that would be awful. You’ve done this a few times… and every time, you felt like you had wasted an entire year of your life.

You move to grab your purse and jacket, which are hanging comfortably on the hook beside the front door. With a small smile, you bid everyone goodnight— smiling as they resume a card game around the table at one o’clock in the morning. It’s nice to know that the group of you hit it off… now; you can look forward to plenty of get-togethers in the future.

Your mind is bustling with all kinds of ideas: picnics in central park, late-night broadway shows, hangouts at the caf-

“Y/n!” The soft calling of Taehyung's voice causes you to halt near the exit, turning on your heel to see him jogging towards you. He had haphazardly thrown his jacket over him since it’s still being tugged onto his body as he runs. His hair becomes even more chaotic in his haste… Why do you want to run your hands through it?

“Hey!” You squeak, interrupting your thoughts before they trudged down a guilty road. “What are you doing? Weren’t you going to play another round?”

He gives you a smirk, catching his breath as he holds out your house keys. “You forgot these! You were really moving fast… sick of us already?”

“Wh— oh my god, thank you!” With a quick swipe of your hand, you’re stuffing your keys into your pocket with a grateful smile. “Also, hardly.”

You admire the way his eyes light up at your confession. “Well.. since you don’t want to leave us so quickly.. how about I walk you home?” He seems almost hesitant asking, but you can’t help but applaud him for actually taking the initiative to inquire.

You shake your head, pulling the strap of your purse farther up your shoulder. “You don’t have t-“

“I want to!” He cuts you off quickly, catching you by surprise as he moves past you to open the door. He glances back, taking in your reluctant expression, “It’s not safe this time of night Y/n… You shouldn’t be alone.“

You know he didn't mean anything by that statement… But the idea of someone genuinely caring and not wanting you to be alone makes your heart swell. Jimin cares about your safety of course, but this feels… Different.

This is the reason why you allow him to walk you home.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, like a symphony that beckons you home. You’ve been feeling exhaustion seeping into your bones for the last ten minutes, but Taehyung's occasional brush of his arm as he walks beside you keeps you wide awake. He doesn’t think to apologize for accidentally touching you, but you blame it on the time of night. Delusion.

“How long have you lived in New York?” You question, wrapping your coat tighter around you to kick out the nipping air.

“About a year now,” He responds, shuffling his feet, “though it feels like way longer. You?”

“Three years.”

Taehyung turns his head towards you, eyes wide. “Wow, way to one up me.” With a teasing smile he continues, “You must know this city like the back of your hand.”

The truth is… you don’t. You came here for the sole purpose of making it on Broadway... you never really took the time to focus on anything else. Part of you wishes you had learned more, craved more, wanted more with your life—then you wouldn’t be so miserable when the one thing you do want doesn’t work out. “Yeah… kind of.”

If he hears the somber tone of your voice, he ignores it, turning against the wind as he walks backwards down the sidewalk. “It’s overrated in my opinion.”

You raise your head at this, “Why is that?”

“Everyone here has dreams… and those dreams get crushed more often than not.” He shrugs, “No one cares if you want to succeed, only if you already have.”

You stare at him for a moment, awestruck by the weight of his words. “But,” he adds, turning back towards the wind, “the ones who never give up and continue to chase that dream can become successful. Despite all of the no’s they might face, they always hold on till they hear a yes. That sounds like true success to me.”

Turning your head, you stare at the side of his face— admiring the way his hair tosses back a bit against the harsh winter winds. His words hit you way deeper than he probably realized, sinking into your chest with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. You’ve been contemplating recently on whether or not to give up on your dream… that maybe it just wasn’t going to work out for you. You have been trying for so long, and have repeatedly been let down. There was no way Taehyung could have known, which is why his words hit you as hard as they did. Despite the hardships, you’ve been here for three years and you’ve never given up or stopped trying to chase your dream.

That was an achievement, right?

“To be honest… I've heard a lot of no’s in my three years of being here.” You speak softly, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “Sometimes it feels like there will never be a yes… but here I am. At least I'm still working— at a coffee shop, not on the stage.”

“It’s admirable that you keep going.” Taehyung glances at you over his shoulder. “It makes you different from a lot of people who have left the city when they faced failure. It’s something to be proud of. Plus, coffee shop or big stage, you’re in New York City and pursuing your gift. It’s special.”

When your eyes meet, you smile at him, feeling a sense of victory the longer you hold his gaze.

“Don’t give up, Y/n. No matter what.” He speaks genuinely, leaning towards you to nudge you gently on your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his playfulness, giving him a nudge in return before your eyes downcast to your winter boots. The snow on the ground is fresh, powdery and sticking to the toes of your shoes. “Plus,” He adds, sucking in the chilly air, “you've got what others don’t have…”

This time when you meet his eye he has a serious expression, making sure he has your full attention as you round the corner towards your apartment building. His gaze is genuine, captivating… and a part of you hopes that the close proximity of your apartment wouldn’t cut this moment short. Finally, he speaks.

“You have passion.”

Taehyung's words weigh on you for the rest of your night. It started off as something simple, looking up audition songs for an upcoming off-broadway show your agent was telling you about. Then, you went to learning it. After that, putting on makeup. And finally, completely forgetting about your sleep schedule and filming an entire audition tape in your room at 2 in the morning (and you were belting… your poor neighbors). It wasn’t until four that you finally turned in for the night, not bothering to take off your makeup or get changed-- simply falling onto your pillow and blacking out the moment you hit it. You were definitely sleeping the next day away… but at that moment, you didn’t mind. Having a day off from your busy schedule wouldn’t be so bad.

“I sent in an audition tape two nights ago.” You speak confidently, wiping down the back counter that’s littered with coffee grounds. They stick to the rag like glue, tiny dots scattered along its white surface. If it weren’t for your apron,

and your expertly rolled up white turtleneck sweater, you would look alot like this rag right now.

“Did you?” Jimin questions from the bar, sleeving the cup before placing it on the handoff counter.

“Christopher! Medium cappuccino!” He calls, multitasking while he cranes his neck to still hear you.

“I did. I feel really good about this one..” You add, meeting him beside the bar as he lifts the pitcher up and down to create the latte-art of a flower in the center of the mug. You have tried sooooo many times to make latte art… and every time it ended up looking like a glob. A big, distorted snowball. Jimin was the master of latte art, always finishing it off beautifully with a whip of his wrist. The foam atop telling a story. “It was so late-- I was totally out of it… and yet I actually enjoyed myself while filming it. I just imagined being there.. In center stage.”

“I’m happy for you, Y/n!” He smiles, turning to place the hot mug next to the cappuccino.

“Caleb! Medium caramel latte!”

He was only half listening to you. The cafe was bustling, so it truly wasn’t Jimin's fault that he was sidetracked— but nothing could hold back the small smile that played at the edge of your lips. You had actually enjoyed singing for the first time in a while.. all because of Taehyung's Academy Award winning pep talk. Who knew that all you needed was for someone to tell you like it is. With a minuscule smile, you turn back towards the counter and lift the latte you’d whipped up this morning to your lips. Your distorted snowball is fully on display at the top.

Despite the busyness, the front register is deserted, giving you time to think for a moment about the pep talk... or rather, the person who gave you it.

“I think Taehyung likes you.” Jimin deadpans.

Uhhh… You nearly spit out your snowball at that— clearing your throat as you set it down slowly onto the wooden countertop. He speaks as if this is a natural conversation starter… it’s not.

“I’m sorry?” You croak.

“Taehyung.” He repeats, turning his head in your direction with a knowing smirk. “I think he likes you.”

You give him a scoff of disbelief, watching as yet another group of regulars enter through the door. “That’s not true, he just doesn’t know me… so he made an effort to talk to me.” If you weren’t studying the group, you would've seen Jimin giving you a scrutinized look.

So, now you have his attention.

“Y/n. It’s so obvious… He spent the entire night talking to you, he left moments after you did to give you your keys and he never came back. If that isn’t someone who’s interested, I don’t know what is.” Jimin is an expert at multitasking, finishing off two drinks at the same time and calling them out.

“Well, Jimin, when people don’t know each other, they get to know each other. It’s this thing called talking and becoming friends.” The sentence hangs in the air as the doorbell chimes, signaling that yet another customer has entered the cafe and into the swarm of regulars, but the two of you disregard the sound and continue on through your bickering.

“I’m just saying, Taehyung doesn’t usually talk to girls.” Jimin adds, wiping his hands off on the white rag seated beneath his espresso machine. “Even if they wanted his attention, he didn’t give it to them. I mean— he’s nice to girls, don’t get me wrong.. but he’s never talked to them like he did with you on game night. I don’t think he’s dated anyone since he got here.”

“He’s career driven.” You say quickly.

If you thought his smirk couldn’t get any wider, you were wrong. “Yeah, girls don’t know that about him— meaning he told you, and not other girls.” Jimin deadpans.

You stare blankly at him. There’s no way. No way that a guy as attractive as Taehyung would even think about looking at you like that. There’s just no way. You’ve never had a boyfriend... or even a guy friend, until Jimin. Eventually, you’d accepted the fact that maybe you just weren’t that interesting. Maybe you weren’t pretty enough. Maybe you couldn’t flirt…. okay, you definitely couldn’t flirt— but that’s besides the point.

“He’s not interested in me.” You conclude.

“He is.” Jimin counters.

“He’s not.”

“He so is.”

“He’s so not.”

“Y/n. I swear to you. He’s interested and you need to shoot your shot.” He whisper-screams, throwing the rag in his hand onto the bar.

“Taehyung is not-“

A clearing of someone’s throat from beyond the register cuts your argument short, nearly making you lose your balance when you see who the source was.

You’re fairly certain you’ve turned pale.

Taehyung stands in front of you, eyeing between the two of you with an awkward expression. God, how long has he been standing there? “I figured I should step in before the two of you start fist fighting.”

“Hey!” The shrill of your voice causes you to wince.

“Hey.” He says with a smile, folding his arms in front of him and raising his eyes to the menu above your head. You can’t help the glare you send towards Jimin, who's notably holding back his laughter as he moves to the blender, the station farthest from the register. Ridiculous.

“What can we get for you?” You ask routinely, trying not to make it obvious that you were just talking about him… and praying that he wasn’t there to hear what the two of you were talking about.

“Hmm…” He looks especially good today, wearing a brown, long coat and a brown plaid scarf around his neck. He wasn’t kidding when he said his favorite color was brown, that’s for sure. It suits him. His hair is wavy, flowing to a point just under his eyebrows with a split off center, giving you the tiniest glimpse of his forehead. “How about an americano with hazelnut, and some cream?”

“We can do that for ya!” You have to force yourself to stop looking at him, pressing the buttons to ring up his order before you forget. You nearly overlook ringing up the hazelnut syrup. Why were you so dazed? He’s already placed his credit card into the chip reader, but your foggy brain asks anyway. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually.” He speaks as you move towards the bar beside the register. Grabbing an empty pitcher, you pour the milk inside and reach for the steamer. He drops a dollar into the tip jar, not giving you enough time to thank him for the unnecessary effort before he speaks again. “Are you free later?”

NEXT CHAPTER

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[bethanysnow]

“I didn’t give it” (A fic for @maneskinbrainrot​ )

Måneskin was invited to perform for New York Fashion week with Gucci. Paraded around by the luxury brand was not a exactly- fun - thing for them to experience, but it paid the bills. Their manager knew this about them, so it wasn’t a big surprise for her to get a text message from Thomas saying they were ‘escaping’ and would be back by dinner. They were in New York City after all! Play tourist for a while in a country they felt a little more safe not to be spotted in. Especially on fashion week where all the art hoes came out of the woodwork. A couple Italians were nothin! With some rudimentary googling Vic found a cafe and a thrift store to barricade themselves in for the next hour or so. The streets of New York were messy and smelled funny, but were alive. The ground hadn’t been smoothed flat with a millennia of people. The brick buildings rose into the sky and the skyscrapers tore holes into heaven. 

People around them didn’t give them the time of day. No one was shouting their name. No one knew who they were, and if they did no one gave a flying fuck by the looks of it. It really was heaven. They loved their job of course, music was their life. But fame was bitter, grainy and left something stuck in their teeth. Here it was like they were nobodies. Not that they minded of course. Vic led the way to the thrift store she had found online, under a block of apartments was the glass window front. A green awning with golden letters of the store. The neon open sign was lit up so the band walked in. A brown countertop near the front of the store was personless. Racks on racks of clothes covered the floor. 50s-60s ball gowns hung from the ceiling beams. The air was musty just in the way vintage thrift stores tended to be. History on all sides by the articles people have worn. Rock music left the speakers pinned to the walls, playing Arctic Monkeys, Queen, and others. 

The band split up to look for a clerk of some kind. A store wouldn’t just be open by itself- right? 

Damiano went down a long aisle of what looked to be 70s memorabilia by the avocado green and bright yellow clothes. A neon red glow caught his attention. Making his way to the back of the store the glow came from a neon sign bent to look like a naked lady. Strategically placed ribbon over certain areas. A paper taped to a hanger with ‘XXX Lingerie section’ printed on it piqued his interest. Even more so when he looked in to find a beautiful woman laying on the red shag carpet cuddling up to a nighty asleep. 

“‘Scusa- Miss? Are you- do you work here?” Damiano asked quietly. Her eyes shot open and looked at where the voice came from. She held a hand to her heart, taking a breath.

    “Sorry! No uh, my best friend works here. I am just visiting, but I can help I guess. Whatsup?” She said getting up. Brushing off imaginary dirt from her hands as she reached her full height. She was shorter than him, her hair was slightly a mess from an interrupted nap. She’s cute. Damiano was lost in admiring her beauty until he blinked and she was waving her hand in front of his face, unaware that he was staring. 

    “Earth to dude, you ok?” She chuckled though still slightly concerned for his wellbeing. 

“Sorry- I'm Damiano, I’m here with friends of mine and we were checking things out. What was your name? I didn't catch it.” 

    “Cuz I didn’t give it.” She winked and Damiano’s blood pressure went higher. Attractive and a flirt too??? Fuck! 

He grinned at her as she was about to put the nighty she was using as a pillow up back on the rack. Damiano took his shot. 

“You know, it might look good on me. What do you think?” Holding it up against his body, the white silk ending just above the waistline of his pants. Leaning on the clothing rack he tilted his head to catch her eyes looking at the garment. “Look better on you though-” Whispering as her face froze and flushed a bright red. Quickly grabbing it and putting it back where it belonged she cleared her throat. 

    “No- uh I don’t wear that kinda stuff. But on you sure. You looking for anything specific?” 

“Besides your number? ...I was looking for some shirts honestly” She nodded and pointedly ignored his previous comment. 

The rest of the band were busy debating on a pair of corduroy pants Ethan was wearing as Damiano showed up with another person in tow. Introductions were made of who they all were and the woman offered some suggestions to the debate going on. But Damiano couldn’t help himself. 

“So Bellissima we have a gig going on later tomorrow if you want to join. Be our plus one as it were-” Vic raised a brow at that. Asking some random girl to go with them to something was one thing, but to ask a random girl to a gig at fashion week was another. And to top it off, a runway of one of the most well known luxury brands in the world. Her concerns were met with their singer giving her a look that meant he knew what he was doing. Or at least he thought he did. 

To Damiano's surprise the woman in front of him shrugged, looked at her phone checking something and said sure. SHE SAID SURE! That was enough for him. Soon the whirlwind of the band and their new found friend were busy trying on clothes and dancing through the store. Thomas' foot got stuck in a platform boot as another person walked into the enclave that they had made that afternoon. The woman that they had met earlier smiled and introduced them as her best friend- I.E the one who actually worked at the store. Explaining what had gone on and the fun chaos that had happened since. 

The day started to wind down and the band had all gotten texts from their manager telling them to come back to the hotel. Picking out their favorite pieces, it all was thrown onto the counter. The woman placed everything in bags, handing it to them once finished. 

As Damiano was to leave the woman he had met stopped him. 

    “You forgot something-” 

“I did?” Checking for his phone or wallet or whatever he could have misplaced. 

    “Yea here- hold on” She ripped out some paper from behind the counter and wrote on it slipping it into his front pocket. With a wink they left. Getting back to the hotel he pulled it out finally after it was burning a hole in his brain.

it read-

‘###-###-#### y/n <3 P.S. Nice music btw. L’altra dimensione slaps.’

[jamaisjoons]

half a heart ⤑ knj | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you and namjoon have always been the best of friends; who just happen to be in love and are refusing to do anything about it. 〞best friends to lovers. childhood friends to lovers. idiots to lovers.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: namjoon x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 19.5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: empHASIS ON THE IDIOTS TO LOVERS, pining, god there’s so much pining, namjoon is the sweetest man and this fic will ruin all other men for you, slight jealousy, slight possessive!namjoon, soft dom!namjoon, big cock!namjoon, sub!reader, biting, marking, grinding, dry humping, dirty talk, nipple play, nipple sucking, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, riding, soft sex, i am in love with kim namjoon, some deep dicking because its not a sol fic for joon without this, creampie, slight cumplay

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: there’s honestly so much fluff in this and that is a testament to how much i love Kim namjoon papa bless,

⏤ thank you to my sweet beans @peekaboongi​ and @shadowsremedy​ for beta reading this for me ♡

⇥ part of the mixtape series

Decidedly, there have been many days in your life. Some happy, some sad. Some you remember better than others while others fade away into the back of your mind. Some are ingrained so deep in your mind that when you close your eyes, you can see every detail as if it’s currently happening. None, however, do you remember more clearly than the day you met Namjoon. It had been almost two decades ago; when you were five, and he was six. You remember being nervous - your parents had just moved to Seoul - and unlike your small port town of Yeosu, you had no friends, nor did you know anyone.

Seoul had originally felt like an adventure, but actually moving there had been a lonely experience. Tall skyscrapers dwarfed your form, and life moved as fast as its people - unlike your sleepy hometown. Thus, when your mother had brought you to the park, you’d clung to her skirt - too afraid to venture out and speak to anyone. Closing your eyes, you can still see the faded metal of the monkey bars, hear the tinkering laughter of children running around and smell the sweet scent of the Bungeoppang stall that was nearby.

It had all been incredibly overwhelming back then, and you’d only hidden further behind your mother’s legs. Until - you’d spotted a boy, as lonely as you. A fond smile curls on your face as you remember Namjoon’s little frame. With chubby cheeks, curious eyes, and dressed in little shorts and a bright red t-shirt, he’d sparked your own curiosity. Unlike the other children, he wasn’t running around, or climbing the slide, or even hanging from the monkey bars. Rather, he sat crouched on the floor, intrigued brown eyes staring intently at the bushes as he stuck his hand into the shrubbery.

Unable to stop yourself, and completely enthralled by his curiosity, you’d approached him hesitantly. The moment he had felt your presence behind you, he’d hushed you, his face twisted in concentration. His harsh shush had almost sent you running - scared that he’d yell at you for coming close to him - but instead, you’d stayed rooted to the spot - too engrossed in his actions. All of a sudden, he’d yelped in triumph and pulled out his hands.

Immediately, he’d turned to you and with the brightest smile - eyes full of wonder and the apples of his cheeks bunched together - he’d proudly shown you the little green frog he’d caught. And that one action - that one smile - had sealed it between the two of you. Ever since then, Namjoon had been your best friend. Woefully, to your utter despair, it turned out that his family lived a good forty-five minutes from you. But that hadn’t stopped the two of you - no. Still, every day, the two of you would meet up at the park and go on little adventures - Namjoon’s pudgy hand holding onto yours.

Nostalgia cascades through you as you continue mulling over your relationship with Namjoon. You’ve lived twenty-four years, and throughout the vast majority of it - Kim Namjoon has been your only constant. Even as you grew up, the distance had meant nothing to you; you’d always made time for each other. Your childhood had been filled with wild adventures and borderline ridiculous experiences: Namjoon dragging you out the comfort of your home so that the two of you could do whatever stupid thing his enigmatic mind could think up. Consequently, that very same enigmatic mind is the exact reason for your current situation.

It’s the middle of the night - the air cool against your skin, even with your large puffer jacket to keep you warm. Currently, you find yourself on the rooftop of your building and as usual, like most of your memories, Namjoon is beside you. Just a few minutes ago, he had burst into your bedroom. Carelessly, he’d thrown you your jacket before dragging you onto the roof of the building. Of course, you’d tried to protest, but you’d never been able to deny Namjoon. Not when he looked at you with those sweet, warm coffee eyes of his.

Thus, you’d let him - albeit reluctantly - pull you to the top of your apartment building.

Sitting on the bare, cold tile - you look at him expectantly. Mild annoyance twists your features; though, that’s more due to the chill of the wind, and your grogginess, than anything else. It’s nearly the end of summer: the foliage of the trees starting to fade from vibrant greens to tamer shades of bronze and gold. On the horizon, you can see the stark, vivid neon lights of Seoul’s skyline - the city still buzzing with life. However, in your smaller neighbourhood - away from the main bustle of the town, it’s quieter - darker.

The thick tarp of night blankets the sky: painting it midnight blue, and starks twinkle within its hold: scintillating like the clearest diamonds. Despite the ambient chill, you find yourself relaxing: your shoulders deflating imperceptibly. Knees pulled to your chest, you wrap your arms around your knees and stare at the sky. For as long as you’d know, you’d loved the night sky - its dark embrace nothing short of comforting. More than that, you loved the stars - you loved coming out at night and just drinking in their radiance; their distant coldness soothing your soul.

You’d always thought there was a certain loneliness to them. They look beautiful: glinting magnificently beside each other while they hover in the upper stratosphere. But you know better - each and every one of them are millions of light-years apart from the next - each more sequestered than the one before. Really, you know they have no sentience - and in fact, most of them are already dead: completely burnt out by the time you can view them. And you know they can’t feel their solitude: they’re nothing but burning clusters of gases and atoms - combusting in a breathtaking display of light. Nevertheless, it’s still something you take an odd comfort in.

“Why did you bring me out here, Joon?” you finally ask, turning back to your best friend. You watch him grin brightly at you, the deep wells of his dimples indenting in his full cheeks, but you know Namjoon. In fact, you know him better than you know yourself. Thus, you see the slight hesitant insecurity swirling in his usually soft,  brown eyes.

“You had a bad day- and it’s night time,” Namjoon replies, his voice a little hushed. With a deep sigh, you glare at him. It’s almost three in the morning, you’re tired and a little cranky. Of course, it’s not like he woke you up or anything - he’d seen that your bedroom light was still on and that you were sadly moping in bed, curled under the covers as you scrolled through social media. Mainly because he was right, you did have a bad day. Work had been exhausting, someone from your team had misplaced some important figures and your boss had yelled at you for it in front of everyone; completely embarrassing you, even though it wasn’t your fault.

Exhaling deeply, fatigue evident in your sigh, “Joon- can we not do this now? Whatever you want to do, let’s just do it some other time. I’m tired, I’m cold and I just want to go back to bed,” you breathe out. Immediately, Namjoon shuffles closer to you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he tugs you into his chest.

Petulantly, you keep your shoulders stiff - fighting his pull. However, when his calming scent: fresh cotton and soft floral notes - the mix of his fabric softener and lotion, wafts across your senses, you reflexively find yourself turning putty in his hold. Relaxing in his embrace, you let his strong arms envelop you, taking comfort in your best friend’s cradle. Instinctively, Namjoon places his chin onto your head, tucking you further into him.

Knowing you’re fighting a losing battle, “Joon,” you mumble wearily.

“Just give me a couple of moments okay? I promise you’ll love this. Let me explain - and if you still want to go to bed, we can, alright?” comes his soothing words. The dulcet tones of his voice fill your eardrums, his chest rumbling lowly under your back. When you don’t say anything, Namjoon continues, “You had a bad day, but it’s a clear night tonight. You love watching the stars.” There’s no real emotion in his voice - his mouth uttering the statements plainly. Not that it really needs any emotion - they’re all basic facts.

Seeing where he’s going with this, you sink further into his embrace. Trust your best friend to drag you out on a cool summer night, just to stargaze, because you had a bad day. You love him. You really do. Tiredness brushed aside, you wriggle in his hold slightly and tilt your head, so you can look up at him. Namjoon shifts, putting a little distance between the two of you as he looks down at you. His face is incredibly close, his breath fanning your lower chin: so sweet you can taste him on your lips.

“Are we just out here to watch the stars?” you ask, a light teasing inclination lacing your voice.

Namjoon hums lowly, before cocking his head to the sky. Arms tightening around you, his voice turns low - and deep - the shallow timbre of his voice easing your soul. “As long as I’ve known you, you have been in love with the night sky - and the stars. Especially the constellations, and their myths, and their stories…” Namjoon begins, his warm gaze trailing over the vast cosmos above you. Then, he pauses before turning back to you. His eyes are alight with tenderness and a slight streak of knowing mischief, “but you’ve never actually been able to point out any of them,” he continues with a low chuckle.

Hearing his words, you scowl slightly before playfully smacking his soft belly. Never being able to actually make out a genuine constellation - other than Orion, because really, that one was easy - had always frustrated you to no end. You’d tried - really, you’d tried - but every time you’d look at the stars, you’d get lost in its overwhelming expanse, and consequently, those bright clusters would blur together - like a pile of glitter dust.

“Did we come out here just so you could tease me?” you butt in, pout evident in your voice. Namjoon exhales heavily in amusement, before tapping his chin against your forehead.

“No- that’s just an added bonus,” Namjoon laughs. Scowl deepening, you stick your tongue out at him. Large hands skim down your body before twisting around your waist and pulling you further into his body, “I learned them for you,” he suddenly breathes out.

Pausing, your features twist into an expression of confusion, “huh? Learned what?” you question.

Namjoon’s fingers flex above your stomach, a sign of his nervousness. From your head resting below his chin, you feel, and hear, him swallow thickly. “I learned them - the constellations. I learned about their positions and how to locate them. Just so you can tell me about them,” he confesses.

Floored by his admission, you instantly jerk off of him. Turning around, you stare at him with wide eyes, your gaze trailing over his face as you take him in. Gazing into his soft mocha eyes, you can’t help but find yourself sinking into their depths. Two decades. You’ve known Namjoon over two decades, and yet - somehow his eyes are the same. You remember them clearly from when he was younger, the pools of liquid chocolate shining just as they did back then. If you were being cheesy, you’d liken them to the stars you love so much: the brown irises twinkling as if those coffee depths held the stars themselves.

Except - they’re not the same. Unlike the cold, distant light of the stars, Namjoon’s eyes are dynamically bright, wonderfully expressive, and so full of tender love and warm affection. Sometimes, they sparkle with curiosity - and other times, they glint with an enigmatic knowingness: as if he knew all the secrets of the world. Right now, there’s nothing but kindness, and earnestness in his eyes, mixed with a little hesitance, and just the sight of it has your heart clenching, overwhelming emotion welling up inside you. Throat tight, and mouth suddenly dry, your face crumples as you take in the sight of your best friend.

His muscles are completely relaxed as he sits on the concrete tile of the rooftop - strong arms now braced on the ground as he leans back. Silhouetted by the dark blanket that is the night sky, he somehow looks bigger, and with his dark hair falling into his eyes, and an inkling of nervousness painted in his tender eyes, your chest tightens. Swallowing thickly, you shuffle closer before laying your head on him.

Automatically, as if the movement were ingrained in his muscles, his arms wrap around you, and gently, he pulls you backwards - until you’re both laying down. One of his hands moved to rest under his head - cushioning his skull - while the other lazily curls around you: the gesture second nature to him. With your head on his chest, you naturally entwine your fingers with his, before laying it on your stomach. Staring up at the sky, you point at a random constellation.

“Which one is that?” you ask, pointing to a random group of twinkling orbs. You thinkit’s a constellation - but really, it could just be an obscure cluster of stars.

Namjoon laughs, his chest reverberating endearing under your head. “You know, it’s kinda hard to know which one you’re pointing to when you just point at a random spot,” he teases. With a pout, you let out a slight huff, making him laugh again.

“How about this - I’ll point them out, and you can tell me about them?” Namjoon asks. Nodding eagerly, your entire body buzzes with excitement.

“That one’s Hercules,” Namjoon says - pointing to the sky before tracing a series of complicated geometric shapes in the air.

Baulking, “no! Joonie- oh my god, pick a different one. Hercules is so boring- everyone knows his story,” you whine. At your words, Namjoon bursts into laughter - the slightly high-pitched sound causing your face to soften. Focusing on the sound, you let the light laughter wash over you, the sound putting you at ease.

“Alright, alright. That one is Cassiopeia. Tell me about her,” Namjoon says - moving his hand down and tracing a zigzag over some brightly coloured stars.

Eyes lighting up, “Oh she’s cool! Well- not really. She was a queen and she claimed her daughter, Andromeda, was more beautiful than the Nereids. As a result, Poseidon-” you begin, before going off on a tangent. Throughout the entire story, Namjoon pays you the utmost attention - listening attentively as you animatedly regurgitate one of the countless myths you’ve got memorised.

When you're done, he points out another one - Draco this time - and with a soft pout, you explain that Draco was part of Hercules’ twelve labours. However, rather than making him change, you begin retelling the myth. Through it all, Namjoon listens quietly, and eventually, you grow tired, your voice turning wearier and wearier as you begin mumbling.

You’ve only just finished recounting the supposed myth of Corona Borealis - commonly known as the Northern Crown, and how its story is tied to the myth of Theseus and the minotaur. When your voice trails off and quiet fills the atmosphere once again. Namjoon's hand is still entwined in yours, and lazily, you play with his fingertips - simply watching the night sky and how the stars slowly pass over you. Perfectly content with the stillness around you, you’re happy to sit and bask in the comfort your best friend offers you: his arm casually over your body and his steady heartbeat under your head.

Then, all of a sudden, “have you ever loved someone?” he asks. Freezing under him, you tilt your head to look at the bottom of his jaw. Briefly, you wonder what spurred on the question - it’s completely out of the blue. “Sorry, it’s just- most of those myths had some sort of romance, and like, I was just wondering. You can ignore me,” Namjoon mumbles under his breath.

Sucking in a sharp breath, “I mean- I love you,” you choke out. Namjoon sighs, his fingers tightening around yours before you feel him shake his head.

“No- I mean like, have you ever been in love?” he asks, and from your position on his chest, with your head tilted up, you vaguely see the way his eyebrows knit in puzzlement. Pausing briefly, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and chew on it. That is what you’d meant. You have no delusions about you - you’re in love with your best friend. You’re not really sure when it had happened, but somewhere between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, you’d lost your heart to your best friend - and you’d never asked for it back. Nor did you ever really want it back.

Briefly, you wonder what would happen if you confessed your feelings now. “I-” I have those feelings for you. It would be so easy - to just spill the words that have bubbled up at the back of your throat. However, you can’t bring yourself to do it. So, instead, “I guess,” you softly finish.

You don’t have to confess your feelings.

At least, not yet.

Soon, autumn rolls around the corner, and mid-October, you and your friends decide to take a much-needed vacation from both universities: Jungkook in his final year, Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin all in their masters, and from work: you, Seokjin, Yoongi and Taehyung needing to recuperate from the stress of office life. Thus, your entire group decided to pool as much money together as you could, and take a spontaneous trip. Though, with half your friendship group still being broke university students, your holiday spots were sorely limited.

Nevertheless, deciding a weekend trip was the easiest - and probably the cheapest. You and your friends find yourself in a cabin nestled in the woods near Seoraksan National Park. It’s a quaint location - privately owned by an old couple who’d bought it in their prime - surrounded by trees and a little neighbouring stream. However, the lot of you had yet to explore any of the trails. Especially considering its late evening - all of you only arriving an hour ago.

“Can someone come and help me for a moment?” Seokjin calls, his voice echoing from the kitchen.

From your seat on the sofa, nestled comfortably between Namjoon’s thighs as you rest against his chest, you look around the room. Jungkook and Taehyung are in the middle of what seems to be an intense game of Jenga, Hoseok and Jimin cheering them from the sidelines. On the sofa opposite the one you and Namjoon are occupying, Yoongi is practically falling asleep - and you know he needs the rest: having pulled a double shift at the radio station he works at. Noting the way you shift, Namjoon lets out a whine of protest, his bulging biceps tightening around you as he tries to keep you in his arms.

Laughingly, “Joonie- you need to let me go. I’m gonna go help Jin,” you say as you try wriggling out of his grasps.

Namjoon only lets out a grunt of protest, “I literally stopped reading because you practically crawled into my lap, and this is the thanks I get?” he grumbles in mock petulance. Exasperated sighs escaping your lips, you untangle yourself from his embrace - Namjoon finally letting go of you, albeit reluctantly. “You owe me for this,” he groans as he stares up at you. Rolling your eyes, you bend over to the book he’d dropped on the ground when you’d practically smothered him with your body, and playfully throw it onto his stomach.

“Well, go back to reading then, you big baby,” you laugh. Then, not waiting for his response, you skip towards the kitchen in order to help Seokjin.

Mid-dinner preparation, and from your position besides Seokjin, you see Namjoon skulk into the kitchen. He’s got his hands buried into the large pockets of his grey hoodie, a small pout on his face. Ignoring his presence, you turn back to Seokjin, nodding with laughter as he continues animatedly talking about an incident at his office.

“And then, he literally takes his fish soup - which smells off by the way - and eats it like nothing's wrong. Literally, sitting with his shoes off and feet up on another chair! Completely ignoring the fact that the entire break room smells like a fish market and as if Yeojin wasn’t just watching him with her jaw open,” Seokjin finishes.

Letting out a loud guffaw, “no! He didn’t, oh my god. What did Yeojin do after that?” you ask, as your laughing body leans into Seokjin.

Taking a seat by the kitchen island, Namjoon’s eyes wander over you and Seokjin - his eyelids narrowing slightly at how close the two of you are standing. Seokjin is leaning slightly into you as he stirs the pot, your own body braced against his in a fit of giggles. Stomach dropping to the pits of his abdomen, and with a slightly soured expression, “what are you laughing about?” Namjoon asks as he approaches you.

“Oh, Jinnie was just telling me about these two people in his office. They keep fighting and Yeojin pissed Minki off, so he decided to eat fish soup in the office - knowing she hates the smell,” you reply simply, letting out a little laugh as you remember the story. Namjoon frowns when he watches you smile easily at Seokjin, your eyes alight with carefree happiness.

Pout deepening, he slips his arms under yours before wrapping them around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Angling your head up, you look at him curiously before laughing, “you okay, Joonie?” you ask. Despite your question, however, you smile brightly and instinctively sink into his embrace. From beside you, Seokjin looks at the two of you in exasperation, and after giving Namjoon a pointed, knowing look, turns back to his own task.

Really, Seokjin muses to himself, Namjoon could not be any more obvious with his feelings - or possessiveness. In fact, neither could you - the two of you practically glued at the hips. For as long as he’s known you both, the two of you have been like this - and yet, you’re still somewhat oblivious to the other’s feelings. After another shake of his head, he sighs in exasperation again before continuing to stir the pot.

Namjoon hums, placing his chin onto your head, “hmm. Uhh... yeah, just wondering if I can help?” He slowly asks.

Snorting, “absolutely not. You’re too much of a hazard risk here. Just go sit with everyone else,” you reply. Swiftly, you place the knife down and wriggle in his arms: unwinding from his grasp. Then, bracing your hands on his strong chest, you begin pushing him out of the kitchen.

“What- no, I can help,” Namjoon protests the entire time you push him. However, you refuse to be deterred.

“Nope! The last time you did that, you burnt your hands trying to drain some noodles. I love you Joon, but you don’t have a lot of common sense in the kitchen. Just go read your book. Seokjin and I are almost done anyway,” you say as you finally shoo him away. Your best friend lets out a little huff, but does as you ask. You watch as he sulks off, dropping to the couch huffily before he crosses his arms and pouts quietly. Shaking your head, you turn back into the kitchen - ready to finish up.

As you’d said - in another ten minutes, you and Seokjin are done. You help Seokjin carry the piles of dishes into the living room - deciding to sit around the coffee table and eat. When you place the last dish, you turn around to your best friend - only to see that he’s still pouting. With his strong eyebrows furrowed, his cheeks slightly puffed out and plush lips pursed, he’s the most adorable expression of frustrated petulance you’ve ever seen.

Grabbing one of the pieces of fried chicken, you plop yourself down beside Namjoon. Sullenly, Namjoon turns away from you - even as you hold out the chicken as a peace offering. Watching his reaction, you bite your lip and place the piece of chicken back down onto the table. From beside you, Jungkook looks at the two of you curiously, a piece of tempura prawn already halfway into his mouth.

“What’s wrong with Joon-hyung?” Jungkook questions, pointing his chopstick at your best friend.

“He’s mad ____ kicked him out the kitchen,” Seokjin replies simply before slurping his noodles.

Ignoring them, you place your hands on either side of Namjoon’s cheeks and squeeze them together, you turn his face towards you. “Joonbug, I’m sorry,” you say as you look at him with large eyes and an exaggerated pout. The corners of Namjoon’s lips twitch, causing you to let out a cheer of triumph. “I saw that! You can’t be mad at me anymore,” you practically shriek.

“That’s not fair! You know you look ridiculous when you pull that face, how am I supposed to stay mad at you,” Namjoon bemoans.

However, you’re already shaking your head and loudly smacking your lips, “nope,” you reply - harshly popping the ‘p’. “Too late. You love me,” you continue.

Eyes softening, Namjoon nudges you with his shoulder before reaching for a piece of chicken, “Nah- I’ve just known you for so long, I can’t get rid of you,” he retorts.

“Oh please, we all know you love me,” you snort back. And then, without thinking, you reach over and smack a wet kiss against Namjoon’s cheek. Playfully, he pulls a face before rubbing at the wet spot on his cheek and wiping it on your shirt excessively.

Before you can reply, “Oi! Can we just eat without you two being gross for once?” Jimin cuts in - throwing a cushion at the two of you.

“Yeah dudes, some of us are trying to eat,” Taehyung chimes in.

Namjoon and you still all of a sudden, completely taken aback by Taehyung and Jimin’s words. Matching identical expressions of surprise plastered onto your face, you both sputter at the same time, “what’s the supposed to mean?” Hearing the synchronous, twin cries out outrage, you both blink owlishly before turning to each other.

Scoffing playfully, “That’s what we mean,” Yoongi chimes in.

Hours later, you and Namjoon sit up in bed. With the room swallowed by darkness - the room is merely lit up by the soft ambient lights of the bedside tables and the soft streams of moonlight peeking through from under the heavy cotton curtains. Buried under the covers, with the sheets tucked under your lap, you practically lay on Namjoon’s chest: relishing in the way his chest rumbles under your head. When Namjoon lets out a sudden high pitched noise, you can’t help but let out a peal of raucous laughter.

“Oh my god, J-Joon that was s-so bad,” you choke out, wiping the tears from your eyes.

Playfully pinching your side, Namjoon pouts, “hey! Personally, I thought it was a very good elephant noise,” he replies haughtily.

Raising your eyebrow, “in what world is that an elephant noise? It sounded like you were blowing a very bad raspberry,” you reply indignantly.

“Oh like you could do better?” Namjoon drawls snarkily. Jaw dropping to your chest, you look up at him in mock ire.

Then, eyelids narrowing playfully, you crook your elbow over your mouth. “Oh, watch me,” you reply - easily accepting his challenge. However, just before you can blow into the skin of your elbow - there’s a knock at the door.

Rather than waiting for the two of you to answer, Yoongi is already opening the door. The two of you wince, your eyes squinting as the stark white lights of the corridor break into the soft golden ambience of your bedroom. “Do you both ever sleep?” Yoongi mumbles as he shuffles into the room.

“Coming from you that’s pretty rich, Yoon,” you reply back, a playful grin on your face. Yoongi tuts, however, before he can say anything, he simply stops and takes in the sight of you. With your head laid on Namjoon’s chest, his body propped against the headboard, and the sheets comfortably draped around your bodies, you look the epitome of an old married couple; and he’ll never understand how the two of you aren’t together yet. Friends don’t act the way the two of you do - and even best friends aren’t as close as you both are. In fact, he knows if he were to take the covers off you both - neither of you would be wearing pyjama bottoms.

Choosing to ignore your comment, and how ridiculously at ease the two of you are together, “Yeah, whatever. It’s almost sunrise and we were thinking of going up the hill just outside Seoraksan Park and watching it, if you wanna join us,” Yoongi says as he scratches his ear.

“Wait- what? Sunrise? Already?” you ask, as you sit up in bed. Namjoon follows your movement, sitting up straighter as you both glance at the clock on the table next to your bed.

“Fuck, have we really been awake the entire night? How? What have we even been doing” Namjoon asks, turning to you with the most adorable look of perturbation you’ve ever seen. Not having an answer to his question, you simply shrug your shoulders. Staying up early into the morning was a common occurrence where Namjoon and you were concerned. Somedays, you don’t even remember what you’d talked about or what you’d done - you only knew that you’d spent the entirety of the night with him by your side.

“How the fuck do you not know the time? Or what you’ve been doing- you know what, it doesn’t matter,” Yoongi begins ranting only to stop. Taking a deep breath, he sighs, “Are you guys coming?” he breathes out.

Looking at Namjoon, you quirk your eyebrow at him. Yoongi watches as the two of you simply watch each other - and neither of you says anything, yet he knows somehow you’re both still having an internal conversation. Then, in a borderline creepy manner, you both turn at the same time and nod.

“Yeah, just give us a moment to get dressed,” Namjoon says as he pushes the sheets off of your both. Yoongi frowns, diverting his eyes immediately - because just as he’d predicted, both of you are dressed in just t-shirts and your underwear.

Exasperated sigh falling from his lips, and with a shake of his head, “Just meet us by the door,” Yoongi calls out as he exits your room.

Namjoon turns around to you, and with a quirk of his eyebrow, “What do you think is up with him?” he asks.

Shrugging, “honestly? No idea,” you reply.

Pulling your jacket closer around you, you shiver at the early morning chill: goosebumps prickling over your flesh as the crisp squall kisses your skin. Shrouded in darkness, the night sky looms over your group of friends as you carefully walk over the cobbled stone pathway. Large, slippery slates of stone litter the area: the boulders covered in a light sheen of river water from the stream nearby and leafy mosses poking through the narrow cracks between them. Considering this route isn’t exactly public - the grounds belong to the sweet couple who owned the lodge - the pathway isn’t as maintained as it could be - and all of you hold onto each other, keeping the other steady.

Namjoon’s hand firmly grips yours as he carefully steps over the rocks, and you know he’s using you as more of a support than you are using him, but you can’t help it. For as long as you’ve known him, Namjoon has been inherently clumsy; and constantly, you worry about his safety. Especially on excursions like this - the only light illuminating your path coming from the harsh flashlights of your phones. Nonetheless, your eyes glance to where your hands are linked, your heart fluttering at the sight.

His hand is large: dwarfing your smaller one, and warmth seeps from his skin towards yours: a smaller blessing considering the nippy air of the early morning. When he’s firmly stable on the boulder, he turns to you from over his shoulder. Even with the practically nonexistent lighting, you can still make out his face as he regards you with the brightest - somewhat sleepy - grin. The sight of him: lips pulled thin in a smile and dimples indented, paired with the way his frame is silhouetted in the shades of fall, has your heart clenching. Tightening your hold on Namjoon’s hand, you allow his strong frame to anchor you as you take another step forward - most of the other boys already ahead of you. Not that either of you mind, you and Namjoon tended to go off into your own world on walks like this anyway.

Eventually, the pathway morphs from slippery rocks to soft terrain. Reaching the entrance to the forest trail that apparently - according to the old couple - leads to a beautiful hilltop viewpoint, the eight of you gather around. Dawn’s twilight paints the sky - honeyed shades of topaz, rose and lilacs splattering across the night. The soft light finally illuminates the pathway, allowing you to see more clearly. Autumn is thick around you - the foliage emblazoned in colours of scarlet, amber and gold. Though, occasionally, trees with vibrant viridian and olivine foliage peek through the warm shades of fall. The ground is covered in dead leaves - the fallow litterfall cushioning the terrain, and crackling under your footsteps.

Beginning your descent down the winding trail - everyone breaks off into small groups: the pathway only wide enough to fit two people at a time. As usual, you and Namjoon find yourself at the rear end: your best friend stopping every now and then to snap a picture of the scenic landscapes around him. You love your best friend, you really do, but as he stops to inspect a rustling bush, you can’t help but sigh. Turning over your shoulder, your eyes widen as you realise that the boys have walked off further than you’d anticipated - however - before you can say something, Namjoon is already grabbing your hand once again.

“Did you see that?” Namjoon asks, a look of awed wonder etched onto his face. Eyebrows furrowing, you turn to where he’s pointing. Once again, the brush rustles, and when a chipmunk pops out, you take a surprised step back. It’s beady eyes take in you and Namjoon for a moment, and then it retreats back into the brush. “Wait- oh my god… There’s a hidden pathway! We should follow it,” Namjoon says ecstatically, his entire body vibrating with excitement. You’ve both been up the entire night, and with your walk, you find yourself growing tired. You know he is too. Yet, despite the sleepiness clouding both your bodies, his warm chocolate eyes practically sparkle; his entire aura buzzing with eagerness.

Biting your lip, you try to suppress your smile - though, you're sure your own look of excitement mirrors his. Desperately, you want to grab his hand and chase after the chipmunk - reminiscent of the days you’d do the same when you were children. However, you’re older now, and your friends have already walked off - and you really don’t want to get lost in a forest. Well you do, especially if it’s with Namjoon. But still, you need to be somewhat responsible. So, “Joonbug-” you try to reason, because really if you didn’t, no one would.

A knowing look on his face, “Moonbeam,” replies, his pet name for you dripping affectionately from his thick lips, “come on, it’ll be an adventure. There’s a little pathway here,” Namjoon says, as he reaches his hand out to you, the other pushing the bush out of the way. Instantly, you cave - because really, how could you say no to him - especially when you really don’t want to say no.

Placing your hand into his, “Alright, but if we get lost and Seokjin yells at us, I’m blaming you,” you reply cheekily. Instinctively, Namjoon’s fingers lace through yours as he tugs you towards the concealed pathway.

“I’ll just tell him you enabled me to do it,” Namjoon snaps back, a playful tone laced into his words. Then, without another word, he’s pulling you into the narrow pathway. Rapidly, he begins tearing through the trail, following the winding, narrow pathway as best as he can.

Your best friend is tall, and his legs are long - making his strides particularly lengthy - and you know anyone else would fall behind pretty quickly.

But not you.

No. You’ve grown up with Namjoon. You’re used to him grabbing your hand and running, used to chasing after him; and you’re used to keeping up with him easily. So, even with his long strides, and how quickly his feet slap the ground - you manage to follow him easily, your own toes just behind his heels. Colours of crimson, gold and honey blur past you, the crunching of leaves and the sound of your stomping feet mixing in a thunderous cacophony of sounds that fill the air.

However, you barely notice any of it. Rather, you’re far too fixated on your best friend. His hand is laced firmly in yours the entire time you chase after him - his long legs practically sprinting down the trail and after the chipmunk. Childlike glee exudes off of him in thick waves, and with the way his body bounces, his hair flopping as he runs, you can’t help the way your eyes soften. His large frame tears through the thicket of woods, the trunks whizzing past you while your own legs sprint as fast as they can.

Lost in Namjoon, you don’t notice him suddenly skid to a halt - at least, not until you’re crashing into his back. Steadfast, Namjoon braces himself - the two of you stumbling for a moment. Just in the nick of time, however, you both steady yourself: preventing you from falling over. Features scrunching in confusion, you look up at the back of his head in question.

“Joon, what-” you ask, only to halt when you peer over his large body.

Somehow, the hidden trail has led you both to a different viewpoint than the one the couple had told you about. Standing near the edge of the hilltop, you find yourself completely breathless at the view that greets your eyes.

At the top of one of Seokraksan’s many mountainous points, you can see miles off into the distance. Twilight slowly slips past, the sky indolently brightening with each passing moment. Dark shades of Prussian blue, indigo and plum soften into milder hues of lavender and azure; streaks of bronze and coral cutting through the sky. Stepping beside Namjoon, you both watch - in utter stillness, and awe - as the sun slowly rises over the skyline.

Thick beams of Aurelian gold peek over the horizon; illuminating the entirety of the ground with its rich sunkissed glow. Synchronously, both yours and Namjoon’s breath hitches. As the sun rises, the entirety of Seoraksan National park is lit up in the dazzling hues of daybreak. Autumnal trees of vibrant shades shimmer under its gleaming rays; the water from the narrow river that cuts through the park glistening in deep shades of cerulean and sapphire.

Turning to Namjoon, you can’t help but stop. Instantly, your breath catches in your throat and you find yourself at a loss for words. With the sun still rising in the sky, his entire body is silhouetted in a golden halo: the rays of light dancing enticingly around him. The autumn wind is light in the air, his hair gently billowing in the wind as sunlight filters through it.

And then he turns around.

Automatically, you suck in a sharp breath. With his face towards you, encased in the golden hues of daylight, you can’t help the overwhelming swell of emotions that crush you. Reflected in his warm eyes, are the golden rays of sunlight; causing the deep pools of coffee to twinkle with a certain mix of lightness and peace. The corners of his mouth are loosely pulled upwards, an easy smile painted on his lips. He stands with his hands loosely in the pockets of his oversized denim jacket, his shoulders completely lax as he soaks in the breathtaking scenery.

Swallowing thickly, you try to swallow the lump in your throat - but you can’t. Nor can you settle the beat of your heart: the muscle thunderously palpitating between your ribs. You don’t know what compels you to do it - but suddenly, you’re taking a step forward. And then another. And another. Until you’re right in front of him.

Namjoon watches you quietly - a light streak of curiousness evident in his eyes. However, that inkling of interest is overshadowed by the overwhelming emotion that you simply cannot decipher.

Nonetheless, the moment you’re only a hair’s breadth apart, you find yourself winding your arms around his waist. Instinctively, Namjoon’s hands drop from his pockets, his hands curling around your and encasing you in his hold. Then, before you can even think about it, or consider stopping yourself, you’re leaning on your tiptoes and pressing a light kiss to his lips.

For a fraction of a second, Namjoon’s eyes widen - his brain on the fritz as he feels your soft lips tenderly brush against his. The moment your lips touch, you feel a spark of electricity jolt through your body; your entire being coming to life as you buzz with excitement. Its sudden spark has you crashing back to reality, your senses finally coming back to you. As quick as it comes, however, and before he can react, you’re already swiftly pulling away.

The two of you stare at each in surprise, neither of you saying anything. You can still taste him on your lips, the soft petals tingling from when your mouth had tenderly caressed his. Licking your lips, dread floods through you as you wait for him to say something. However, he doesn’t. Instead, he stands completely rigid - his eyes glazed over and lips slightly parted.

When the silence grows terse, “I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me,” you quickly blurt out. Your words have Namjoon crashing back to reality, and he draws to his full height - an unreadable expression in his eyes. “I mean- I’m just tired, we’ve been up all night and I wasn’t thinking straight-” you try to explain. It’s a lie. You know it is - but hopefully, it’s a lie he believes. You had wanted to kiss Namjoon - desperately - because sheathed in the early morning light, you don’t think he’s ever looked more beautiful. Nonetheless - you’d rather not lose your best friend.

“Oh,” Namjoon breathes out, his plump lips forming a perfect ‘o’.

The fierce urge to pull him in for another kiss tears through you, but this time, you manage to suppress it.

“Oh,” Namjoon repeats, almost as if he’s trying to process your words. There’s something hidden behind the way the sound drops from his lips - but before you can dwell on it, he’s already speaking.

“That’s okay, we’re both tired,” Namjoon nods, a light, nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “It’s okay, it means nothing… right?” he finishes. Although, you can’t help but wonder about the uncertainty in his final word.

Nonetheless, “Y-yeah, you’re right,” you mumble out, trying to stifle the way your throat constricts. Anguish cascades through you, your chest turning numb. However, it’s for the best. As much as you love Namjoon, losing him would completely devastate you. Gulping heavily, you lick your lips, “we’re okay… right?” you ask, your voice straining slightly as you attempt to choke out the words.

Namjoon smiles brightly - though, you can’t help but notice how it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “When are we not okay? It’s you and me, ____. Joonbug and Moonbeam, remember?” he replies easily, his eyes squinted shut into crescented slits.

“Yeah… Joonbug and Moonbeam,” you repeat; a smile curling onto your own face. Even as your heart aches to be more. Then, the two of you go back to staring at the sunrise.

For the rest of the trip, you and Namjoon don’t act any differently. In fact, both of you pretend as if you hadn’t kissed by the sunrise: that you didn’t know how the other tasted after a sleepless night filled with nothing but each other.

Yet, neither of you can deny that something about your relationship has changed. Though, as dread settles in your stomach, you can’t figure out whether it’s a good or bad change.

Four months after your kiss, you find yourself on the sofa with Namjoon. Not much has changed about your relationship with him; in fact, there are only two things that have changed. One is the fact that your feelings for your best friend have grown exponentially, and more often than not, you find yourself lost in him: desperately wishing to feel his lips on yours or to confess the weight of the emotions you feel for him: the words at the tip of your tongue.

Nevertheless, you don’t. You can’t. Not after the way he’d reacted to your first kiss in the first place. Though, there are times you wish he’d reacted differently - wish that your relationship was more than it is. Like right now.

You and Namjoon are currently on the sofa, his head resting on your chest and arms loosely thrown around your waist as you hold him; the two of you watching Shark Tale together. Why he’d suddenly wanted to watch Shark Tale, you have no idea. Nonetheless, there’s very little you can deny your best friend - so when he’d wanted to watch the film, you’d easily given in.

Namjoon’s gaze is glued to the screen, his eyes focused as he lazily watches the TV screen. Your focus, however, is fixated wholly onto him. With the way he’s laid on you, his body practically smothering yours, you can feel the way his chest rises and falls above yours, and the faint thudding of his heartbeat. Instinctively, your hands find themselves in his hair - loosely twirling the thick, silken locks between your fingertips.

It’s at moments like these, that you wish you were more: wish that you could call out his name softly and press your lips to him. But you can’t; because the second reason your relationship with Namjoon has changed, is that he’s now dating someone. And you mean dating - because he has yet to introduce her to you as his girlfriend - and until he does, you refuse to call her that. Mainly because it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

More than halfway through the film, and during the scene where Angie finally confesses her love to Oscar - really, you have to scoff - there’s an aggressive rapping at your front door. Before the two of you can even move, the door twists and slams open, revealing Oh Jihee. Why Namjoon had told her where the spare key to your apartment was hidden, you have no idea.

Indolently, Namjoon turns to the door, however, before he can even open his mouth to say anything, she’s already speaking. “What is happening here?” she asks, her eyes suspiciously roving over the two of you.

“Oh, ____ and I were just watching Shark Tale. Why are you here?” Namjoon asks as he slowly pulls away from you. The moment he’s off of you, the weight on top of your chest growing light, your stomach sinks in dejection.

Raising her eyebrow, she places her hands on her hips, “Because we had a date. That you’ve clearly forgotten about,” Jihee replies snarkily, throwing a scathing look towards you. You simply cock your eyebrow and scoff - it’s not your fault Namjoon forgot about his alleged date. Though, you can’t help the streak of happiness that flitters through you: he’d unknowingly chosen to spend time with you and not Jihee.

Namjoon pulls himself off of the couch and walks over to her. Then, pulling her into his arms, he presses a soft kiss against her temple. The tender gesture has you looking away, your features falling as despair settles deep within the pits of your abdomen. “Oh. Was that today? I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind. Let me go shower and get dressed quickly,” Namjoon softly apologises. Jihee’s eyes soften, and with an exasperated sigh, she nods.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” she replies before kissing the corner of his mouth. Then, she beckons him away - leaving the two of you alone. As soon as he disappears into his bedroom, Jihee turns to you, her eyes narrowed into slits.

“What’s your problem?” she hisses. Cocking your eyebrow, you slip off of the couch and begin clearing the snacks from the coffee table.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you reply back coolly.

“Yes, you do. Why do you both always act like you’re a couple, when you’re not? I don’t like how comfortable you are touching my boyfriend,” Jihee seethes back. Your stomach sinks at the term, but you suppress your own sadness. It’s not like it mattered anyway - Namjoon was free to date whoever he wanted. He was your best friend. Just your best friend. Something you reiterate to her.

“We’ve been friends since we were children - it’s just how we’ve always been,” you shrug back simply.

“Yeah, well I’d like you to stop, I don’t like it. In fact, I don’t like your relationship with him at all,” she responds, her lips pursing into a sour expression.

Snorting lightly, “yeah, well, I don’t really care. He’s my best friend, he’s not going to stop being my best friend because you don’t like our relationship. And if you have a problem with it - you can take it to Namjoon. But you and I both know he won’t like that, which is why you’re saying this to me when he’s not here,” you retort easily.

Jihee splutters for a moment, “that’s not why I’m doing it,” she protests weakly. Though, neither of you believe that for a single moment, “besides- what do you know about what he likes. I’m his girlfriend,” she snaps.

A look of incredulity paints your face at that, and with a disbelieving chuckle, “you did not just imply that you know more about him than me, just because you’re in a relationship with him,” you say.

“And what if I did? We’re together, he would have told me more. Things he can’t tellyou,” Jihee replies - although, from her own uncertain tone, you both know she’s just grasping at straws. You’ve known Namjoon for two decades - that’s a long time. The onlyperson who knows more about him than you, is his own mother. And even then, you know probably just as much as she does.

“That’s a joke right. You literally cannot be serious. You know nothing about him. Nothing,” you spit back, your anger finally getting to you. Of course, your words are said in the heat of the moment, but you mean them - because they’re true. She knows next to nothing about him - especially since you know she forces her own opinions and personality onto him. Another reason you do not like her.

“I know things!” Jihee seethes back. Her voice is slightly shrill, and loud enough that you send a quick glance at the two spare rooms. Namjoon is in the shower - so hopefully- he won’t be able to hear this argument. Hoseok’s room is shut, and you can hear the soft tempo of his music coming from behind - so you’re not too worried about him listening in either.

Turning back to Jihee, you fold your hands across your chest and regard her cooly. “What’s his favourite breakfast?” you ask, all of a sudden.

“W-what?” Jihee stutters, a look of confusion colouring her features.

“You heard me, if you know so much about him, what’s his favourite breakfast?” you repeat.

“That’s easy. Poached eggs and toast - we go to brunch all the time, you know,” she replies haughtily.

“No. It’s any sugary cereal. In particular, he likes Lucky Marshmallows with extramarshmallows. Sometimes he literally saves all the marshmallows for last just so he can eat an entire bowl of them,” you reply easily.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Jihee tries to cut in but you shake your head.

“For your one month anniversary,” you begin, internally cringing - really, they’ve only been together three months, so why she had wanted to celebrate a month, you do not understand, “you booked a seafood restaurant,” you continue.

“He likes seafood!” Jihee cuts in.

“Not as food, he likes them as pets - or to collect them - but he doesn’t like eating them. You constantly want to join him on his walks - but sometimes he needs to be alone,” you begin. You don’t know why you do it, but all of a sudden, you find yourself laying into her.

Sucking in a deep breath, you continue, “I know you met him at an art exhibition, and Iknow that he loves music, and art and philosophy and I know you share those together. But those aren’t the only aspects of his personality.” Briefly, you pause, your eyes slightly tearing up. However, rather than letting it get to you, you blink them away.

“Namjoon- he’s a huge dork. He’s more than those selective interests that you’ve singled out. He grows bonsai in his spare time and names all of them and speaks to them. He easily gets distracted by different animals - like frogs, or squirrels or chipmunks - and he always needs to stop and try to pick them up. He eats spoonfuls of sugar when he thinks no one is around. He loves cute things and buys more Kaws and Ryan or Brown plushies than a grown man needs. He can be whiny, and petty, and sometimes borderline childish but it’s who he is.”

Again, you stop, your chest heaving in the slightest from your sudden rant. You have no idea what overcame you, but the moment you’d started speaking, it had felt like a dam had burst. Jihee simply stands stock still, looking at you in disbelief. Letting out a deep breath, you run your fingers through your hair. “That is who he will always be and you cannot change who he is - or pick and choose aspects that you like. If you honestly want to be with him, if you have any feelings for him - you will understand that he is perfect the way he is. You should love him for who he is,” you finally finish. Desperately, you want to throw the words ‘Like I do’ but you can’t. Instead, you left them unsaid.

With your little spiel well and truly done, silence falls over the room. Jihee regards you coldly, her eyes glazed with passiveness, and her face an expression of stoic calmness. But then, she grits her teeth, and with a low voice, “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. Because he’s dating me not you,” she hisses out. Her words are low, barely above a whisper, and yet the heavy scorn tears through you. Her words cut you like a knife, leaving your chest numb and your heart aching with hurt.

Unable to say anything, you simply bite your lips. Fists clenched to the side of your body, your knuckles turn white and you simply stare at each other. Repeatedly, you open your mouth to argue - to say something - but you know she’s right. It doesn’t matter if you know Namjoon, or that you’ve been his best friend for over two years. All that matters is that he still chose her - that she’s his girlfriend.

Nonetheless, before you can say anything, Namjoon pops out of his bedroom - hair slightly damp and dressed for the day. Smiling gently at Jihee, he walks over to her before beckoning her towards the door. Jihee returns his smile, her eyes briefly flashing with smugness as she looks at you. Throat tight, you attempt to turn away. However, just as you do, Namjoon smiles tightly at you.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” he says, before guiding Jihee out of the apartment - leaving you alone.

That night, you sit on the couch - a fluffy blanket thrown over your lap - and Hoseok beside you, as you both idly flick through your phones. The two of you sit in complete silence, Hoseok laughing quietly and showing you a funny picture on his timeline, before turning back to his own phone. Time moves past slowly, and every now and then, your gaze flicks to the entrance of your flat, and you silently wonder when Namjoon will come home. Or if he was even coming home tonight.

Nonetheless, you don’t have to wait any longer - because, all of a sudden, the doorknob is twisting and Namjoon walks through. Eyebrows scrunching in befuddlement, you watch as he drags his feet into your apartment. Shrugging off his jacket, he stays quiet, his shoulders slumped as he kicks off his shoes.

“Joon? You okay?” you ask, worry evident in your voice as you sit up. Namjoon only hums casually, but other than that he doesn’t say anything. Dread flits through you, your stomach dropping at his lacklustre posture.

Then, “I’m going to go to bed, yeah?” he says, before shuffling into his room. His door slams shut softly, and you feel your heart sink into your chest. You simply can’t shake off the feeling that your argument with Jihee has something to do with Namjoon’s upset. Once he’s safely behind his closed door, you blink owlishly and turn to Hoseok, the two of you looking at each other in worry.

Gaze flicking to his shut bedroom door, “Do you think something happened?” you whisper lowly as you bite your lip in nervousness.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s about your fight with Jihee,” Hoseok casually replies with a shrug. Taken aback, you look at him in a mix of trepidation and confusion. His words had only confirmed your suspicion that it was something to do with your earlier argument.

“Do you think he heard?”

Hoseok sighs at your question. “Honestly, if I heard it over my music, he definitely heard it in the shower. But- I can’t say for sure. You’re going to have to ask him yourself,” he replies - almost diplomatically.

“If he heard then I don’t think he’s going to want to speak to me right now,” you point out. However, your words only cause Hoseok to scoff.

“Please, the day Joon doesn’t want to talk to you, is the day hell literally freezes over. When have either of you ever had an argument that has lasted more than a couple of hours?” Hoseok questions, his perfectly sculpted eyebrow rising slightly.

You open your mouth to respond, before pausing. Eyebrows furrowed, you struggle to try and remember a time the two of you hadn’t spoken for longer than a few hours. You and Namjoon fight, of course you do, however, they’ve never really been serious - and you’ve always made up eventually. The two of you just couldn’t bear to be apart. Seeing the dawning look of realisation on your face, Hoseok lets out a soft chuckle.

“Exactly. Just go speak to him - I’m sure you’re overthinking it anyway,” Hoseok encourages. Smiling gently at him, you nod and throw the blanket off of you.

Padding over to Namjoon’s room, you knock on the door tentatively. From behind the wooden frame, Namjoon grunts, and taking it as a sign of entry, you walk into his bedroom. The moment you see him, you bite your lip, your heart clinching in anguish. He’s sat up in bed, dressed in his pyjamas, and casually scrolling through his phone. His speakers blear music softly, faint acoustic beats thrumming through the quiet bedroom. Stepping further into his room, you call out to him softly.

“Namjoon… is everything okay?” you ask, shuffling nervously in place.

With a sigh, “Jihee and I decided it was best to stop seeing each other,” Namjoon replies. Blood running cold, you look at him in a mixture of shock and barely concealed hope. However, swiftly, you suppress them - you need to be there for your best friend right now.

Tentatively, “You broke up? Why?” you ask.

“We weren’t really together to break up, we were just dating,” Namjoon replies. Then, eyeing your apprehensive state in amusement, “you can join me you know,” Namjoon says as he pats the spot next to him.

Breathing out in relief, you quickly cross his room and join him on the bed. You shuffle in next to him, Namjoon automatically throwing the covers over you. Once you’re settled down, you curl your hands in your lap and turn to look at him. “Do you want to talk about it? You never answered why you broke up,” you point out, your voice low.

Namjoon hums before lolling his head back to rest against the wall. He stares at the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing for a couple of moments. Then, “I heard your argument with her,” he confesses.

A sad smile curls on your face, and with downcast eyes, you stare at your hands. “I feared as much. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep or anything… I just- she didn’t seem right for you, I guess,” you admit. Because I’m the right one for you. The words echo in your mind, but again, you push them far back into your head. You do not need to dwell on that right now.

“Hmm. Well, you’re right. There was too much about us that clashed… which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But at the same time, I didn’t feel comfortable being myself around her either,” he says. “I’m not upset at you or anything by the way. If anything, I’m grateful. If you hadn’t said what you had, I probably wouldn’t have realised how unhappy I was with her,” Namjoon admits with a tender smile.

“I still feel bad…” you begin.

However, Namjoon cuts you off. “I didn’t have feelings for her. She’d seen me at the museum a couple of times and asked me out. I didn’t really notice until she came up to me,” he chuckles lightly. Your eyes soften at that. Namjoon is beautiful, and if anyone were to ask you, you’d tell them that he was the ideal man. With his soft, devastatingly handsome looks, and his tender heart and enigmatic brain, Namjoon is yourideal man. But he’d never really appreciated his own charm - he never really understood why women were so attracted to him. More than anything, he barely even recognised when women flirted with him. It was endearing, really.

“Why did you say yes, then?” you ask curiously.

Namjoon pauses at that. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes before turning back to the ceiling. He’d never admit it out loud, but the reason he’d said yes was because of your kiss, all those months ago. The moment he’d felt your lips on his, he’d been electrified and dazed - and for the first time in a while - his brain had completely shut down and he hadn’t been able to act. But by the time he’d processed it, ready to press his lips harder into yours and really taste you, you were already pulling away and apologising.

The very second your mouth had brushed his, Namjoon knew you were the one for him. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could feel the tingle over his lips, and your warm breath wafting over his chin. Contrary to your beliefs, Namjoon did, in fact, notice the attention girls paid him. He just didn’t care. Mainly because his heart already belonged to you. Admittedly, falling in love with your best friend was the world’s most cliche move - but he just couldn’t help it. No one compared to you.

So when you’d pulled away like that, he couldn’t help the way his heart had yearned for you, and he knew he had to at least try to move on. Which is where Jihee had come in. Nevertheless, no matter how much Jihee loved art, or philosophy, it didn’t matter - because she wasn’t you. She’s not you and he never really could stop comparing the two of you to each other. It wasn’t fair on either of you - particularly because he knew he’d never love anyone the way he loves you. And your argument with Jihee had only cemented that.

When he’d overheard your exchange, he’d been shocked. Of course, he knew that you’d known a lot about him, but having you admit so clearly and so boldly that she should love him for him - for every aspect that made him: the good and the bad. Well, it only had him falling deeper for you. So, when Jihee had bought up your less than conventional friendship, and how the tactility between the two of you made her uncomfortable - well, he’d known he had to end it with her there.

Not only because she’d been uncomfortable with his friendship with you - really, why had she ever thought he’d give you up for her? You’ve been in his life twenty years, he’d only known her around three months - but she’d also wanted him to stop being so physical with you. Thus, Namjoon had decided it was best for the two of them to part ways. Also because, well, he’s in love with you. But that’s neither here nor there - especially since you don’t feel the same way.

At one point, he thought you had. Nonetheless, after your kiss, he’s not so sure. And he’s not willing to risk your friendship either. You mean far too much to him to risk anything without any certainty that you felt the same way.

“Joon?” you softly call out, dragging him from his own musings. “You never responded,” you continue.

Biting his lips, “Just because,” he responds. No. He could not admit his feelings for you. At the very least, not now.

It’s the middle of August, when you find yourself in Namjoon’s family’s log cabin on Jeju Island. As usual, the family had decided to take their yearly trip to the island, and like every other year, you had been extended an invite by Namjoon’s parents. His family and you are currently gathered around the garden while Namjoon’s dad barbeques some meat. Your best friend stands beside you, the two of you idly chatting with his parents.

“So, ____, are you seeing anyone?” Namjoon’s dad asks all of a sudden. The question surprises you, causing you to choke on the piece of meat you’d just been swallowing. Namjoon’s mom looks pointedly at her husband before lightly patting your back. However, she can’t help but notice the way her son stiffens beside you, his gaze narrowed onto his own plate.

Managing to swallow the piece of meat, you turn to Namjoon’s dad, “No, I’m not Mr. Kim, why?” you ask. Namjoon’s dad simply smiles, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“I was just wondering. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, after all. I know Namjoon was seeing someone a little while ago, but Yunmi mentioned they broke up,” Namjoon’s dad answers casually. Both you and Namjoon stiffen at that. Momentarily, you look at each other before looking away.

“Dad,” Namjoon begins, but swiftly, you cut him off.

“Ah, well, I’m not. I just… haven’t met the right guy yet, you know?” you reply awkwardly. You have met the right guy, he just doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. At your words, once again the two of you glance at each other before turning away. Your ears burn slightly, and picking up your chopsticks, you place another piece of meat into your mouth. From beside you, Namjoon’s gaze shifts to you briefly, a flicker of yearning flitting through his eyes.

Namjoon’s mother stares at the two of you knowingly, a soft smile gracing her face. Really, for as long as she’s known you, she’s been hoping that you and Namjoon would end up together. Yet, for years now, both her and her husband have watched the two of you dance around each other; your relationship clearly more than platonic, and yet neither of you doing anything about it. However, she knows that somehow, eventually, the two of you would end up together. She knew the day Namjoon had come home - back when he was merely sixteen - complaining about the boy you had a crush on.

“Are you sure? There’s this nice boy I know, I can introduce you to-” Namjoon’s dad begins. Instantly, Namjoon’s head snaps up and he looks at his father in a mix of despair and betrayal. Next to him, you stand rigid, your ears burning with embarrassment.

Sensing your awkwardness, “That’s enough, Hongjoon. I’m sure Namjoon and ____ don’t want to spend their time speaking about relationships. Just grill the meat,” Namjoon’s mother chastises, her husband only sending her a knowing grin in response.

“Very well, very well. Do you want some grilled shrimp, Namjoon?” Hongjoon asks, holding out a skewer of prawns towards his son. Namjoon looks at his father in horror, and quickly, you’re taking the skewer from his dad.

“Mr Kim, Namjoon doesn’t eat seafood, remember? However, I’d be happy to have them. Here, Joon, you can have this beef- I won’t be able to eat the shrimp too,” you easily say, passing over your meat towards him. Yunmi looks at her husband, knowing full well he’d done it purposely, however, Hongjoon just sends her an innocent smile before turning back to his grill. When a giggle resounds through the air, she turns her attention back to the two of you.

“Joon, how do you manage to get the sauce all over you? Honestly. Here,” you chide. Then, picking up a tissue, you gently dab the corner of his mouth. Yunmi watches the way you lean into each other, Namjoon standing completely still as he lets you wipe the sauce from his lips. Her eyes flicking over her son, she can’t help but smile at the way he softly watches you - nothing but tender love and affection present in his eyes.

Really, with how often you both act like a couple, she has no idea how you aren’t together yet. Unable to stop herself, “isn’t that adorable,” she coos. Both of you still, your hand midway in the air while Namjoon looks at his mother in annoyance. “Sorry, sorry. It just reminds me of when you both were younger, and the two of you would play house,” Namjoon’s mother reminisces.

“Mom- why would you bring that up?” Namjoon whines, his usually deep voice slightly higher than usual. You don’t say anything, instead, just biting your lip fondly. You remember those days - when you and Namjoon would run around pretending to be husband and wife, with your stuffed teddy bear playing your son. Briefly, you send him a side glance, your heart constricting within your chest. For the longest time, you’ve imagined your future with Namjoon. Though, you know it will never come to fruition.

“Because, Namjoon, you used to always run around saying that you would eventually marry ____. It’s nice to see that your friendship hasn’t changed though, and you’re still close - even if ____ has to look after you all the time,” Namjoon’s mum says, smiling playfully at her son.

Ignoring her first statement, “Hey! I look after her too, you know,” Namjoon splutters in indignation.

That has you scoffing and playfully rolling your eyes. “Oh please, let’s not forget that I almost had to take you to the ER because you got your fingers stuck in one of those Chinese finger puzzles,” you snort back.

Namjoon’s mother blinks in surprise, and a smirk curling on her face, “did he now? ____, you have to tell me all about it,” Yunmi says. The two of you let out twin - borderline terrifying - giggles, Namjoon simply groaning and throwing his head back.

He’d forgotten how close you and his mother were - and that frequently, you’d gang up against him. Though, watching the two of you easily speak to each other, he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if it came at his own expense.

Jogging down the stairs from your room, you look for Namjoon. The two of you had plans to go on a walk along the beach, however, he had yet to come and find you. Thus, growing tired of waiting for your best friend, you decide to find him yourself. Softly padding to the kitchen, you briefly pause when you realise he’s in there with his mother. She’s currently chopping carrots, Namjoon sitting at the island with a cup of tea in his hands.

“I don’t see why you don’t just do it. Your father and I have said we support you multiple times,” his mother sighs. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, and you find yourself hiding behind the wall. You know you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on their conversation, but you simply can’t help yourself. Besides, Namjoon’s mother’s words have you growing curious about their topic of conversation.

“I’ve already told you-” Namjoon tries arguing, but his mother cuts him off mid-sentence,

“Namjoon, you keep denying it, but your father and I have watched the two of you dance around each other for years. You cannot tell me that you are just friends. Friends don’t act the way the two of you do, you know,” Yunmi says pointedly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Namjoon asks, his head cocking to the side. Your stomach flips as you realise that they’re talking about the two of you. Shuffling further behind the wall, you press your back towards it as you continue listening in.

“It means that friends don’t hold hands because it feels comfortable, or they don’t wipe sauce from the other’s lips, and they certainly don’t cuddle together while sharing the same bed. Which,” Yunmi begins, emphasising her word when Namjoon opens his mouth to argue, “is not something your father and I have a problem with, by the way. We both like ____, we’ve known her for a long time. We know you’ll look after each other and you’ll be happy together. So why haven’t you done anything about it? We just want you to be happy, Namjoon,” Yunmi finishes.

You bite your lips at her words, your stomach flipping in a mixture of hope and nervousness. Fingers shaking slightly, you hold your breath as you await Namjoon’s response. Then, you hear him sigh and you feel your world crumble around you.

“Yeah, but mom, it’s not like that. We’re not like that. We’re just friends,” Namjoon replies. Harshly, you press your teeth down onto your lip, chewing it so intensely you fear you’ll draw blood. However, it’s the only thing keeping you from letting out a sob. Namjoon’s words replay over and over in your mind. Of course, you always knew he’d felt that way - but having it confirming it so casually, has your heart breaking.

Not wanting to listen in any longer, you silently turn around and rush back up the stairs - being as quiet as you possibly can. Once you’re up the stairs, you enter the room you’re currently sharing with Namjoon before softly shutting the door. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat - your breath laboured as you try to stop yourself from breaking out into sobs.

Walking further into the room, you take a seat onto the bed before whipping out your phone. In times like these, you’d usually call Namjoon to comfort you - but considering he’s the reason you’re hurt - you know you can’t do that. So, instead, you quickly open your contacts and call the next best thing - Jung Hoseok. Pressing the call button by his contact name, you lift the phone to your ear. With the phone ringing in your eardrum, you quietly will him to pick up, urgently needing someone to speak to.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s sweet voice comes across the phone.

“Hoseok,” you breathe out.

“____? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Where’s Namjoon?” Hoseok asks, alarm evident in his voice as he hears the heavy emotion in yours.

“I’m fine… Somewhat. I just- I needed someone to speak to, and it can’t be Namjoon,” you reply breathily. Realising there’s no reason to panic, Hoseok calms down.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” he asks gently. His sweet voice echoes through your ears, calming you down. Other than Namjoon - Hoseok was really the only one who could soothe you when you’re upset. “Just breathe in deeply, ____. It’ll be fine,” he continues calmly. Nodding, you take in a deep breath, the lump in your throat relaxing a little.

“I just heard Namjoon tell his mother that we’re just friends… and I don’t know what to do anymore. I- I thought I’d be fine just being his friend, but after that kiss, and then Jihee-” you begin, however, Hoseok cuts you off with a yelp.

“Kiss?! What kiss?” he practically shrieks, his shrill voice causing you to wince. Though, despite the situation, you find yourself laughing.

“Ah- I forgot you didn’t know. When we were at Seoraksan, when Joon and I disappeared, we kissed. It wasn’t anything major but-” you begin.

“Nothing major?! Dude, you kissed the guy you’ve been in love with for years. That’s pretty fucking major. What happened? Why aren’t you together?” he quickly fires off, curiosity clear in his voice.

“Can we not do this now? It just happened and then I pulled away and apologised-” you try explaining.

“You apologised? Why would you do that?” Hoseok bursts out.

Sighing in annoyance, “Hoseok! That’s not the problem!” you seethe. Your voice breaks through the phone with a hiss, causing Hoseok to quieten down on the other side.

“Oh- yes. You’re right. But I will be asking for all the details later. Anyway, why did you call? What happened?” he questions once again.

“I just overheard Namjoon telling his mother we’re just friends… and I don’t know if I can be here anymore. I- it’s so hard. Pretending that I don’t want to be more and that I’m not in love with him. I just- I don’t want to be just friends anymore and it sucks,” you reply, your voice heavy with emotion.

“Well, why don’t you just tell him that? Like, I’m pretty sure Joon’s in love with you too, you know?” Hoseok says softly.

Unable to help yourself, you let out a snort. “That’s really rich, Hobi. What the fuck am I supposed to say? Hey, Namjoon! I’ve been in love with you for years now and I want to be more than friends? Even though I just heard him tell his mother-” you begin ranting.

However, you stop when you hear Namjoon's deep voice tear through the bedroom: “You what?”

Blood freezing, your entire body goes rigid. The moment his voice registers in your eardrums, you whip around, your eyes wide as you spot your best friend. “Namjoon,” you breathe out heavily. Despair floods through you, your ears burning as you feel your stomach sink.

“Hoseok, I’ll call you back… I have to go,” you quickly say before hanging up. Then, turning around, you hop off of the bed, “Namjoon, it’s not-” you begin, your mind running a mile a minute as you try to think of something to say. Would you even be able to say anything? To salvage your friendship with him? Or had you just unknowingly ruined it all?

“Did you mean it? Do you love me?” Namjoon asks. Repetitively, like a broken record, the words play over and over in his mind - filling him with a mix of confusion, elation and relief.

“I- Namjoon,” you try, but Namjoon simply shakes his head. In an instant, he crosses the room - until he’s right in front of you. You jerk at the sudden movement, your neck straining as you look up at him.

“Did you mean it? Please, ____, I need to know,” Namjoon exhales deeply. Left reeling by the sheer emotion in his voice, the desperation, the yearning, the tenderness - you can’t help but blink, unable to figure out what any of it means. He looks down at you intensely, his warm brown eyes leaving you captivated.

Breathing heavily, you bite your lip. Then, gathering every ounce of courage you have, you throw caution to the wind. He’d already heard you anyway. “Yes. I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember,” you confess - nothing but sincere earnestness present in your voice.

The minute the words leave your lips, Namjoon’s lips crash down onto yours. For a sliver of a moment, your eyes widen in shock, however, as quickly as it comes, it goes, and soon, your eyes are slipping shut.

Loosely, his hand moves to grip your neck, as you lift your chin higher - so you can press your lips harder into his - while your hands fist into his shirt. His free hand drops to wind around your waist, and in one swift movement, he pulls your body flush against his. Gasping at the motion, Namjoon uses the opportunity to slip his tongue between your teeth, your lips parting further in response. Indolently, his silky appendage swipes across yours, curling around your tongue and gently massaging it.

Electrified by his kiss, you moan into his mouth, your chin lifting higher as you press your lips harder against his. Mouths moving in tandem, you lose yourself into the intoxicating feel of his lips against yours. The soft petals of his mouth are soft, and as pillowy as you remember; albeit a little chapped, but you don’t mind so much. No - because the slight abrasion only adds to the feel of your kiss.

When you feel his tongue flick against yours, your hands uncurl from his shirt - only to wind up his chest, along his throat, towards the nape of his neck. Further and further, you sink into Namjoon: his body pressed flat against yours, his saccharine taste coating your tastebuds, and his warm breath wafting over your face. You can’t help but find yourself drowning into him - his entire presence encasing your senses as you lose yourself deep into his entire being.

Both of you lose track of time, your tongues gliding and sliding against each other, both of you consumed wholly by the other. Lost in your own selves, you feel nothing but each other - want to feel nothing but each other - and soon, the rest of the world fades into the background. There’s a soft ache in your lungs - your chest aching from the lack of oxygen, but you don’t care. No - right now, breathing is the last thing on your mind. In fact, the only thing you can think of is Namjoon, and the intoxicating sensation of his tongue against yours.

Nonetheless, eventually, your lungs begin to burn - the lack of oxygen searing through your chest. When the sweltering ache grows too much to be ignored, the two of you pull away - breathing harshly against each other. Your eyes stay closed as you gasp for air, both your breaths mingling together and circulating the air. Your lips are slightly swollen, and as you flick out your tongue to soothe them, you can’t help but whimper at the aftertaste of his essence on your mouth: the flavour only deepened by his breath fanning your face.

With your eyes closed, you still feel him linger around you - his calming presence washing over you and soothing your earlier hurt. Swallowing thickly, the two of you gradually open your eyes - coming face to face with each other. You’re still only a hairsbreadth away, his mouth ghosting against yours in tender brushes. Gaze meeting his, you search his eyes for something - anything - even just an inkling of the emotions you feel for him. And as usual, Namjoon doesn’t disappoint.

He smiles gently at you, the soft tip of his nose brushing yours as he repetitively presses affectionate kisses to your lips. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that?” he breathes out.

“W-What…? I thought- you told your mother-” you stammer out, confused by the entire situation.

“You’re an idiot you know,” Namjoon chuckles. Instantly, your face falls, ire rising in your chest. But before you can say anything, Namjoon shakes his head and presses his lips to yours, “I’m an idiot too. This entire time, I thought you didn’t feel the same - so I kept telling myself that we were just friends,” Namjoon admits. Then, he pauses, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to be more either,” he confesses.

Your heart swells with happiness, a bright grin gracing your face. Then, you still. A sliver of confusion enters your eyes, and your features knit in the slightest, “but… that day in Seoraksan… you didn’t reciprocate,” you point out. Namjoon lets out a low, mirthless laugh.

“Is that why you pulled away and apologised?” he asks. When you nod, he just sighs and shakes his head, “I wasn’t expecting it ____, and by the time I realised what was happening, you were already pulling away and apologising. But- I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to pull you closer and kiss you harder. I wanted you that day, more than you’ll know,” he admits. Face crumpling with emotion, realisation dawns over you - the epiphany crashing over you like a pile of bricks.

Laughing, “we’re idiots, aren’t we? Have we been in love this entire time?” you ask, biting your lip to try and swallow down the smile. Namjoon matches your laugh, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through your entire being. You close your eyes and let it wash over you, the sound bringing peace to your very soul.

“Yeah, we have. But- better late than never, right?” Namjoon chuckles.

Nodding eagerly, you let out the laugh that bubbles up in your chest, “I love you,” you confess once again.

Unhesitantly, “I love you too. So fucking much,” Namjoon responds. Then, the hand gripping your neck curls tighter, and he’s dipping his head down again.

Pressing his lips to yours again, you can’t help but sigh. It’s a little different than before - slow, with a lower undercurrent of urgency. Moaning into his kiss, you press yourself harder against him, your fingers carding into the hair as the base of his neck. Gripping the roots of his locks, you attempt to deepen the kiss, Namjoon lightly chuckling into your mouth when you whine in protest. Slowly, Namjoon pulls you backwards, stopping when the backs of his knees hit the bed.

Indolently, his large hands trace along your spine, his palms trailing along your covered flesh. Every single one of his touches sets your skin aflame with desire, heat settling deep within the pits of your abdomen. Taking a step closer, you moan into his mouth when you feel his hardening shaft against the soft of your belly - involuntarily grinding against it. Your movements cause him to let out a strained grunt, and breaking away from your kiss, he groans out your name.

Lust coursing through your bloodstream, you begin peppering kisses along the sharp outline of his jaw - your lips tracing the edge. Responsively, Namjoon’s hands drop to your hips, his hands splaying across your ass before pulling you flush against him. The two of you writhe together - your lower abdomen squirming against the outline of his growing bulge. Fists moving to curl around his shirt, your eyelids flutter as you feel him lightly palm at your ass - his fingers flexing and gripping the supple cheeks.

Your mouth parts open, and you let out a slew of breathy moans - heat pooling deep within your loins as you find yourself growing wetter. Dipping his head down, Namjoon buries his face into the crook of your neck - his pillowy lips tenderly roving over the skin. “J-Joon,” you stutteringly whimper, your eyes rolling back when he playfully nips your skin. Puckering his lips, he presses them to the sensitive spot just below your ear before sucking harshly. Responsively, a low mew resounds from your lips. In the wake of his kisses and light nips, you have no doubt he’s leaving hickeys over your flesh: mauve and rose marks blooming over your skin.

Sighing under him, “I want you,” you mumble quietly.

Namjoon runs his nose down the column of your throat before outlining the shape of your collarbone. When he reaches just below your chin - where your two clavicles meet, he bites down softly - making you whimper out his name. Lazily, he flicks out his tongue, the wet appendage gliding soothingly over your stinging flesh. Then, pulling away, “I want you too,” he mutters back. His cool breath fans against your flushed skin, the wet spot on your flesh evaporating, causing you to shudder.

“Then take me,” you groan back - nothing but want and earnestness in your voice.

The moment the words slip out, Namjoon’s fingers firmly dig into your ass, and then, he’s lifting you up. Yelping at the sudden movement, you quickly brace yourself onto his shoulders, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. You feel him manoeuvre the two of you onto the bed - until you’re both in the middle. Letting you go, he gently puts you onto the bed - and when your knees are firmly against the mattress he lets you go.

The two of you kneel on the bed; your hands tracing up his toned chest - feeling every defined muscle under his shirt - and towards his face. Cupping his chin, you pull him in for another kiss - desperately needing to feel his lips against yours once again. Automatically, Namjoon dips his head down, his mouth chasing yours as both your tongues begin gliding against each other.

Feverishly, your hands begin roaming over each other - hot lust clouding your minds as your kiss grows fervent with desire. Urgently, your hands roam over each other - Namjoon’s large palms pushing under the hem of your dress and over your bare thigh under he reaches the junction between your thighs. Boldly, he presses his hand to your panty-clad folds, and the sudden touch has you breaking your kiss with a surprised cry.

Soft whine spilling from your lip, you grind into his hand, your walls clenching as you feel him softly stroke your folds. The heat between your thighs is uncomfortable, and radiates so strongly that Namjoon can’t help but hiss - the knuckle of his thumb imperceptibly caressing your throbbing clit. Skin flashing with heat, you pull away from him briefly, and before he can even comprehend what’s happening, you’re gripping the hem of your dress and taking it off of you.

The moment your scantily covered body greets his eyes, Namjoon lets out a strained groan - his eyes roaming over your flesh. Your body is not new to him - no, in fact, he’s seen you in various states of undress at different points in your friendship. Nonetheless, it’s different now; your chest heaves as you gasp for air, and your heavily lidded eyes: gaze turbulent with lust. Intense eyes rove over your body, Namjoon practically drinking you in.

Growing wetter under his heavy stare, you feel your inner walls clench - your nipples twisting to hardness under the lace cups of your bra. “Namjoon,” you breathe out heavily. Wantonness thick in your voice, Namjoon quickly sheds off his own clothing - your mouth drying when you see the muscles of his biceps bugle as he removes his t-shirt. Cool air wafts over your heated skin and goosebumps prickle over your flesh, causing you to shudder. However, it only lasts a moment because Namjoon is swiftly pulling you flush against him,

Warm skin melding together, you cry out in pleasure when your hard nipples brush against his chest through the rough material of your bra. The friction sends spikes of lust straight to your core, a gush of wetness seeping through your pussy before soaking into the material of your underwear. Dropping his head to your shoulder, Namjoon runs his soft lips over your flesh; peppering kisses onto your skin. Meanwhile, his hands move back to grasp your ass - caressing and kneading the flesh in his large palms.

Your own shaky hands push between your bodies: trembling digits falling to the waistband of Namjoon’s jeans as you attempt to undo the button. Finally managing to pop the button, you desperately push the rough material of his trousers down his hips. When you struggle to remove them from you, Namjoon pushes you away. Flopping bonelessly onto the bed as you watch him rid himself of his trousers. When he’s left in nothing but his boxers, your mouth practically salivates.

As if magnetically drawn, your eyes instinctively fall to his hips, and you suck in a sharp breath at the sight. The defined ‘v’ of his hips leads to his boxer-clad shorts - his cock pressed to the side of his thigh by his tight underwear. Throat constricting, your eyes widen slightly at the shape of it - even through his underwear, he looks huge: the thick girth pressed against his toned left thigh. As you continue practically leering at him, Namjoon crawls over you. Instinctively, your thighs part, allowing him to crawl between them.

His hands brace on either side of you, the strong muscles of his arms twitch as he bears the entirety of his body weight on them. Arms shooting up, you run them over his naked shoulders before carding into his hair as you tug him further over you. A soft gasp slips from your mouth when his weight presses over you: his defined chest over yours and his hips pressing into yours in the most enticing way. Hands entwined into his hair, you watch the way the ambient light encases him in an amber halo, your eyes softening at the sight.

Straining your neck, you attach your lips to his once again, pouring all the love you feel for him into your kiss. Languidly, Namjoon’s tongue slides over your lips, the motion causing you to sigh. He’s sweet on your tongue; his honeyed essence bathing your tastebuds until he’s all you can feel. This time, your lips move slowly - mouths moving softly in tandem with each other as your tongues slide against the other leisurely.

Namjoon shifts above you - the movement causes his heated erection to brush against the thin, soaked material of your underwear. Reflexively, you buck into him - causing Namjoon to hiss. Shifting above you, Namjoon’s hands trail over your thighs. Then, hooking your legs around his waist, he’s suddenly flipping you over. Yelping in surprise at the abrupt movement, you fall into him; Namjoon’s arm loosely wrapping around your naked waist.

In your new position, he sits with his back against the headboard; your thighs straddling his hips. Namjoon’s warm hand indolently drifts down your waist, until it rests comfortably in the curve of your spine. Shifting into a more comfortable position, you sit on his lap - both of you groaning when your cores press together. Responsively, Namjoon bucks up into you, the action causing you to shudder.

“Namjoon,” you whine, your hips squirming over his.

“What do you want, baby?” Namjoon asks, his neck straining up to brush his lips against yours.

“I want you,” you reply easily. A smile curls on his lips, and playfully, he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth. Sucking the soft flesh, he rakes his teeth over the swollen petal, making you sough into his mouth.

Simultaneously, Namjoon’s hands drop to your hips, and gripping them, he pushes your pelvis down - so that your wet, covered folds are flat against his cock. The movement causes you both to cry: you - at the intoxicating feel of his throbbing cock around your weeping sex, and Namjoon - at the wet heat pressing into his hardness.

“F-Fuck, Joon,” you mewl. Hips moving of their own accord, you begin grinding your heated cunt against his hard shaft. The skimpy material of your panties hinders nothing, and easily, you feel his cock - hot and pulsing, through the material of both your underwear. Namjoon’s hands trail to your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh as he begins moving you over him. Instinctively, the two of you fall into a synchronous rhythm, your hips writhing together in frantic movement as you lose yourself into your pleasure.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking hot… and wet. How are you this wet?” Namjoon groans - the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through the air. Fingers digging harder into your ass, he gyrates harder into you, soft grunts and pants escaping his lips as he feels your wet heat against his cock. “Fuck- that’s it, baby. Grind all over my cock - you feel so good,” Namjoon moans, his head falling back. The soft murmurs of his voice rip through the silent room, the sounds of his own pleasure intermingling with yours.

Your hands fall to his shoulders, and using them as leverage, you begin pushing your hips harder into his. With every brush of his cock between your folds, you can’t help but grow wetter - your toes curling in pleasure. Namjoon watches you practically bounce on his cock - the top swells of your breast rippling with each movement. Unable to help himself, he moves his hands to unclasp your bra. When you feel the elasticated band loosen, the strap falling down your shoulder, you move your hands from his shoulders - divesting the brassier off of you.

Breasts free, and swaying with every one of your movements, Namjoon finds himself entranced by the sight. From his position under you, he leans forward and wraps his lips against the right peak, pulling the hardened bud into his mouth and gently sucking. The moment you feel his plush lips around your nipple, you cry out his name. Pussy clenching around nothing, you whimper at the ache between your thighs.

“Fuck, Namjoooon,” you whine - drawing out the syllables of his name. Indolently, his tongue swirls around your nipple - tracing its outline over and over again, while he simultaneously suckles at it. His hands are back on your ass - holding the plump flesh in his large hands while squeezing and spreading them apart.

Pleasure seeps into your veins, and you begin grinding more feverishly against him. Short gasps of pleasure slip from your lips, the friction of your sodden lace panties and his cotton boxers slowly driving you wild. You have no doubt that you’re dripping now - the material of his boxers soaked enough to leave damp trails of your wetness onto the fabric. Your stomach twists - the heat inside causing your stomach to flip and turn with every one of your movements.

Hands braced on his shoulders, you dig your fingernails into the thick muscle - Namjoon grunting at the slight pain. When he unexpectedly bites down on your nipple, rolling the peak between his teeth - your cunt clenches painfully and you sob out his name. “M-More, please. I-I need more,” you whimper. Hearing the desperation in your voice, Namjoon takes pity on your form.

Hand slipping down between your thighs, you feel him push your hips off of his cock. A whine of protest slips through your lips, your walls clenching as they ache for the feel of his cock - however, your displeasure only lasts a few moments. Pressing his fingers against your folds, Namjoon lazily begins stroking his fingers through your covered slit - causing you to whimper out his name.

“Fuck- you’ve soaked through your panties, baby. Do you want my cock this much?” Namjoon asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. It’s all you can do to nod eagerly, you hips pressing harder into his hand.

“J-Joonie- more,” you helplessly mewl, squirming into his fingers.

Namjoon chuckles from under you, but gives into you. Pushing the gusset of your underwear to the side, his fingers stroke through your naked folds, causing you to hiss and drop your head onto his shoulder. Tenderly, Namjoon traces the outline of your folds - completely in awe of how absolutely sodden they are. He’s barely even touched your entrance, yet thick, filmy strings of your wetness coat the pads of his digits.

“God- I’ve dreamt of what your pussy would feel like - but I never thought it’d be this good,” Namjoon admits - his thumb moving to stroke your hardened clit. The sensation of the pad of his thumb swiping against your swollen, needy bud causing you to buck into him, you cunt contracting around nothing.

Twisting your hand between your bodies, you push his boxers down all of a sudden. Abruptly, his cock springs out before the heavy length falls onto his lower abdomen. In an instant, your palm is stroking the thick length, your mouth watering as you admire his shaft. The velvet length is long, and incredibly girthy, and you have no doubt that he’s going to stretch you out deliciously. Experimentally, you wrap your fingers around before gently squeezing.

Namjoon rolls his eyes at your ministration - the action eliciting a short gasp from his lips as he bucks into your hand. Dropping his head to your chest, you feel him nuzzle the top swells of your breast, while he lightly presses tender kisses into your flesh. Between your thighs, his fingers rove further down your slit, until his digits are teasing your entrance. A low mewl falls from your lips, your hips writhing into his hand as you try to get him to push his fingers into you. God, you desperately need something to fill the ache.

“Joonie- want your fingers,” you murmur, not even bothering to hide the pout in your voice. Namjoon laughs lowly under you, and with an apologetic kiss to your sternum, his digits lightly push against the tight ring of your entrance. Fingernail circling your entrance - almost tauntingly - Namjoon relishes in the way it twitches for him: the tight rings clenching and unclenching involuntarily. Growing tired of his teasing motions, “Joonie, please,” you practically beg.

The ache between your thighs throbs with a vengeance, causing you to squeeze his cock. Hand stroking up to his tip, you take a moment to admire the bulbous mushroom tip. The head is sticky with precum, your thumb swiping over the slit, wetting the tip in his own translucent precum. Rhythmically, your hand begins pumping around the rest of his shaft - your fingers tightening around his girth intermittently.

“Sh-shit. Fuck, that feels good. God, your hand feels so fucking good,” Namjoon praises. He rewards your actions by deliberately pushing two fingers into you - your wetness allowing them to slide in with ease. Drawing sharp raspy breaths from you, Namjoon shallowly begins pumping them into you - never delving deeper than the first knuckle. With each movement, you feel your entrance open and close, your eyes rolling back at the sensation. Indolently, he pumps them - matching the pace of your hand stroking his cock.

Nuzzling into your chest, Namjoon breathes in your scent deeply, relishing in the comforting smell. It’s heavier this time - the smell of your arousal and sweat mixing in with your natural one. Yet, he doesn’t mind. Not when it smells wholly inebriating. “What do you want, baby?” Namjoon murmurs. His voice is low, dropping a couple of octaves, and the baritone sound thrums against your skin: causing goosebumps to flit over your arms.

Unhesitantly, “you,” you whisper back. Letting out an appreciative groan, Namjoon slides his fingers deeper into you. With a keening whine, you begin pumping his length harder - groaning in pleasure when his fingers inside you also pick up the pace.

“You’re so fucking - shit - tight. Can’t wait to feel you on my cock,” Namjoon breathily whispers. His words cause you to clench involuntarily - your hand tightening around his shaft. God, you don’t think you can wait any longer. You need to feel him inside you. Right now. Something you express to Namjoon.

“Want your cock- Joonie, please,” you implore, pressing your lips harshly against his.

Drawing away, “fuck, okay. Let’s get these off,” Namjoon says as hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. Shuffling away from him for a moment - the both of you quickly remove your last articles of clothing: leaving you completely naked.

With not a moment to spare, Namjoon wraps his hands around your thighs, before pulling you back onto his lap. Hastily, you throw your leg over his hip, straddling him once again. One hand on your ass, and other gripping his shaft, Namjoon strokes the velvet head of his cock through your folds: the tip dragging over your clit before catching on your entrance. You hiss at the heated sensation of his cock, your eyelids fluttering when you feel it press against your entrance.

When he’s firmly positioned at your dripping hole, you slowly begin lowering yourself onto him. The moment his head breaches your walls, however, you let out a deep, guttural groan. Completely doused in your wetness, his cock should slide easily into you - however, his girth is so thick that you can’t help but mewl in pain. Squirming over him, your breath turns laboured as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock - the ache of the stretch burning your walls, the pain mingling with pleasure.

“Fucking hell- how are you this- fuck- big?” you keen, your eyes screwing shut. Namjoon leans forward - the movement causing him to sink another inch into you and making you gasp. Dropping his head to your neck, he peppers comforting kisses into your skin while his hand soothingly rubs over your lower back.

Nonetheless, there’s pleasure mixed in the pain and you continue lowering yourself onto his cock. Inch by inch, you take him into you - his cock slowly opening up your walls around his unrelenting length. With every second that passes, you feel his cock drag deliberately against your inner walls - your cunt clenching rhythmically - and forcing you to feel every ridge and vein of his thick girth. Eventually, you sink completely down - your hips pressed against his - and his cockhead kissing the soft walls of your cervix.

There’s an intense pressure deep within your stomach - Namjoon’s cock throbbing erratically inside you. The feel of him nestled so deep within you has you sighing in pleasure. There’s still a dull ache - from how wide he stretches you out; your walls pulled apart to their limits - but pleasure soon replaces the stinging ache. Gradually, you adjust to Namjoon’s size and with an experimental swivel of your hips, you cry out in pleasure.

“God, your pussy is so fucking tight - and wet - shit,” Namjoon slurs - euphoric elation dripping in his words. Breath laboured, you begin lifting yourself over his cock, your back arching - pushing your chest into you - as you ride his tremendous length. With every flex of your thighs, you can’t help but cry out in pleasure. Not only is Namjoon’s cock thick, but he’s incredibly long too, his length just slightly curved: allowing his head to drag against that sweet spot inside you.

Large hands falling to your hips, Namjoon grips them tightly as he helps you move on top of him. Every movement has hot spikes of pleasure jolting across your skin, your toes curling in elation while your stomach twists and knots violently. The rapturous bliss of your impending orgasm calling to you, you begin bouncing your ass over him. Namjoon groans at the feeling, and unable to help himself, one of his hand moves to splay across the curve of your back - pulling you flush into his chest.

Skin melding together, your sweat acting as a glue, you lose yourself into the feel of Namjoon. Abruptly, your arms shoot out and you wrap them around his chest, your fingernails digging into his flesh as you hold him close to you. With his cock buried deep into you, and his head buried in the crook of your neck - Namjoon is all you can feel. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, your nose burrowing into the side of his head as you breathe in his calming scent deeply.

From under you, Namjoon fucks his cock upward - his thrusts pushing him deeper into you. The additional sensation causes you to whimper, your ass twitching as sheer, unadulterated bliss begins flitting through your bloodstream. You’re close - so close you can practically taste your orgasm; even if your mouth is completely dry from gasping his name over and over again.

Feeling your walls begin to pulsate erratically - the rhythm of their contracting falling out of sync - Namjoon knows you’re close. All of a sudden, he pulls you even closer to him - a feat you had considered wholly impossible, considering you’re clinging to each other - and then, he’s flipping you over. Squealing in surprise, you feel your body bounce on the bed, before Namjoon falls over you.

The entire time he moves your bodies, his cock stays buried deep inside your pussy - your walls involuntarily clenching around his shaft. In your new position, Namjoon’s entire weight is braced on one hand beside you, his other hand resting on your back - under your body - as he pulls your chest into his. Your legs are splayed open on either side of his hips as he grinds his cock into you. With your new positioning, every time Namjoon thrusts into you, his pelvic bone drags along your clit: making you cry out his name in pleasure.

“J-J-Joon, I-I-I’m c-close,” you stutter out, your back arching as you push your hips into his.

Nodding above you, Namjoon gasps and pants for air. “Fuck baby, me too,” he replies. Legs shooting out, you wrap them around his hips, and heels digging into the fleshy globes of Namjoon’s ass, you pull him deeper into you.

Slowly, yet fervently, the two of your rock into each other - chasing your own highs. You cling desperately to him, your arms still holding onto his shoulders as you writhe together. Then, needing to feel his lips on yours, you strain your neck and press your mouth to his. Instantly, his mouth opens, and your tongues begin lashing against each other leisurely - Namjoon’s intoxicating essence coating your tastebuds.

One of his hands twist between your body before you feel him stroke your clit. Breaking from the kiss, you cry out against his lips: your breaths heavily intermingling together. “Cum for me, baby,” Namjoon urges. His command, paired with the way his fingers dance across your clit, and how his cock drags against your sweet spot, has you careening off of the brink of pleasure.

Mouth falling open, your muscles strain as you choke out a cry of euphoria. Head lolling back, your back arches violently as you twist and contort in pleasure under Namjoon. Rapturous ecstasy ricochets through your entire body, your muscles trembling violently as you cum around his cock. Feeling your pussy tighten in a vice-like grip, your inner walls gushing with wetness as you milk his shaft, Namjoon lets out a deep roar. His own head falls onto your chest, and with a few more thrusts, he buries his cock as deep inside you as he can before he cums.

Through the haze of your pleasure, you feel Namjoon’s cock swell inside you. All of a sudden, his cock begins throbbing - and then you feel it. Rope after rope of thick cum shoots inside you, his seed filling up your inner walls and painting them white. His warm cum fills you up deeply, the mild heat of it settling deep inside you and causing you to squirm under him. Once he’s done, you feel him soften inside you - and slowly, Namjoon pulls out.

You whine in protest, your walls a little raw from his thick girth - and when he retreats completely, you can’t help but jerk: his head popping out of you. Instantly, his cum begins leaking out, causing you to mewl in pleasure - your entrance throbbing and only forcing more of his cum out. Namjoon sits back on his heels, both your chests heaving as you attempt to catch your breath.

From his position, his eyes drop to your pussy - a low groan of appreciation resounding from deep within his throat. Your legs are spread wide, and your pussy slightly gaping from where he’d fucked you open. But he’s more focused on how his cum leaks out of you, his seed dripping down your ass. Chest swelling with pride, he can’t help but let out a lazy smile.

Leaning forward, he presses one hand onto your inner thigh, while the other swipes two fingers between your slit, gathering up his cum, and pushing it back into you. You wince at the sensation, a low groan slipping from your throat at the sensitivity. Pressing a kiss to your knee, “We’ll have to clean you up,” Namjoon mumbles, even as he continues pushing his fingers inside you.

“Later, I’m tired,” you murmur back whinily. When the ache of oversensitivity gets too much, you bat Namjoon’s hand away before closing your legs. With a low laugh, Namjoon presses an apologetic kiss to your knee.

Then, he flops down next to you. Feeling your best friend settle next to you, you automatically shift in bed - turning and curling into his body. Instinctively, Namjoon’s strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer into him. Hazily, your head still swimming in its post-orgasmic bliss, you feel Namjoon push your hair out of your face. You smile softly at the tender gesture, your smile widening when you feel him brush his lips against your temple affectionately.

“I love you,” Namjoon whispers.

Shuffling closer into him, you press your naked body into his. Easily, your legs tangle together, and closing your eyes, you let his words and the comfort of his presence wash over you.

Sleep already fogging your mind, “I love you too,” you mumble back. Then, after a short pause, “we’re together right…?” you murmur. Namjoon laughs at the slight slur to your voice.

Lazily, he picks up your hand, and entwining your fingers together, he brings them to his lips. Pressing his lips to each of your knuckles in a soft kiss, he nods, “we’re together, baby,” he replies. Sighing in pleasure, you nod happily before snuggling into him. Breathing in his scent, you let the mix of fabric softener, lotion and sweat waft over you - the cacophony of fragrances slowly lulling you to sleep.

Hours later, you and Namjoon wake up from your nap - just in time for dinner. With little giggles, you and Namjoon begin cleaning yourselves up - your face scrunching when you wipe the dried up cum between your legs with the damp washcloth Namjoon had given you. Walking over to your suitcase, you pull out a change of underwear, before slipping on your dress from earlier; Namjoon’s face falling when your body is hidden from his view.

“Why are you pouting?” you ask, throwing your hair into a ponytail as you turn around to face him.

“I miss looking at you, already,” Namjoon replies, an exaggerated pout on his face. Rolling your eyes playfully, you walk over to him and press a kiss to his lower jaw.

Then wrapping your arms around his neck, “Well, I miss looking at you too… but, we have all the time later tonight,” you say. Then, you grow quiet. Sensing the nervousness exuding from your being, Namjoon gently places his hands on your hips, before lightly caressing them in comfort. “And… for the rest of our lives,” you continue, the words leaving you in a single breath. There’s uncertainty in your eyes, because really, neither of you had spoken about what you are - you’d just fallen into bed after your confession.

Gaze softening, Namjoon drops his lips to your forehead. “For the rest of our lives,” he repeats - confident resolve heavy in his tone. His words cause a smile to grace your face. Beaming up at him, you draw onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Then, pulling away, you take one of his hands into yours, and entwining your fingers together, you tug at him, “alright, come on. We need to go down for dinner before your parents come looking for us,” you say.

Namjoon nods, and the two of you slip out of your bedroom and back downstairs. With each passing moment, you feel dread pool heavily into your stomach. Nervousness grips your entire being, and desperately, you cling tighter to Namjoon - soaking in all the comfort your boyfriend - boyfriend! - offers you. Finally, the two of you step into the kitchen. Immediately, both of Namjoon’s parents turn to him - however, before they can greet you, they halt.

Instantly, their gaze drops to your entwined hands. Time moves past slowly - the seconds passing excruciatingly. The longer they’re silent, the more nervous you grow. Then, after what feels like aeons, Namjoon’s parents both smile.

Eyes twinkling with mirth, “well… finally,” Namjoon’s mother says, a knowing smile on her face.

a/n: thank you i love my man

⇥ Kofi | Masterlist

[winterbanner]

I Would Give Her the Stars (Bruce Banner/ Reader)

Summary: "In that moment I would have gone to the ends of the universe if she pleased. I would have given her all the stars in the galaxy." 

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Slight Angst, This Is Really Cute 

Word Count: 1684

Warnings: None except for some brief language

Paring: Bruce Banner x Fem Reader (uses she/her pronouns)

Additional Note: I rewrote this because it was absolutely awful. I think it’s better now! ;)

It was early, the tower was absent of noise with the exception of the whistling tea kettle sat upon the stove. Tony and I had been working all night to calibrate a new GPS system for the quinjet. It was hard work that required precision and concentration. That was hard to perform, however, when my lab partner was blasting Black Sabbath as if he were at some sort of underground warehouse party. 

My eyes ached from staring at my screen for so many hours, the throbbing synced with that of the headache that had crept its way up to my temples. I just couldn’t take the work any longer, which is something I don’t often say. I have a passion for lab work; I mean, I wouldn’t have seven PHDs in the sciences if I didn’t. That night, however, I needed an escape. 

I needed to go see her. 

I knew where she’d be. Up on the rooftop, staring out over the urban skyline. That’s where she went  to think after her attempts to get some rest were tried and failed. New York truly is the city that never sleeps, and neither does Y/N. 

I rummaged through the cupboard until I had retrieved her favorite mug, and paired it with the one she had gifted me last month. There had been no special occasion, she said she saw it and thought of me. It was one of those novelty mugs you find at convenience stores. On the front were the words “science is my bitch” written in a large bold font. I laughed the hardest I had in months after opening that gift. The rest of the team gives me weird looks whenever I use it, but that mug was the first gift I had received in a very long time. 

I took the kettle off the stove and prepared the two mugs of tea. One spoonful of honey, just how Y/N liked it. Afterwards I made my way to the elevator before requesting JARVIS take me to my destination. As I began my ascent my nerves began to get the best of me. I have this habit of second guessing myself, of letting my mind spiral into anxiousness. These thoughts, however, came to a halt as the elevator doors opened to reveal Y/N sat upon her chair serenely gazing out over the bustling city streets. 

At the sound of the elevator ding she turned her head, her lips curving upwards into a smile as she took in my presence. 

Y/N always smiled when I walked in the room. 

“Well hey there genius” she greeted, her grinning face illuminated by that of the dimmed roof lighting, and the neon glow of the Avengers symbol plastered on the front of the tower. 

“Hey Y/N, um- I brought tea.” I responded, gesturing the two mugs I held in my hands. 

“Somebody pinch me. Not only has Dr. Banner escaped from his natural habitat, but he also comes bearing gifts! I’m in shock.” 

I laughed heartily, “Well, my natural habitat has been invaded by a wild and obnoxious Tony Stark.” I responded. 

“Anybody who manages to survive Stark is more than welcome here. Besides you've been down in that lab for hours, you’re gonna fucking suffocate if you don’t get some fresh air.” She said as she gave the seat next to her a pat, thus signaling her wish for me to sit there. 

I thanked her before sitting down and handing her the cup of tea. “Careful it’s hot.” I warned, not wanting her to burn her hands on the hot ceramic. As I handed over the mug I felt her fingers lightly brush over mine, causing my heart to flutter. 

She thanked me in return before reminding me that she always enjoyed my company. Her words filled my chest with a warmth that I rarely feel nowadays. A warmth that I only feel when I’m with her.  

Afterwards we sat and conversed for what felt like both several hours, and a few minutes all at the same time. Conversation with Y/N flowed with ease, our topics ranging from the books we were currently reading, philosophy and politics, to Thor’s new obsession with microwaved popcorn. I couldn’t care less what we talked about, the only thing that mattered was that I was with her, and it seems as though she just might have felt the same way. 

I have always considered myself to be an awkward person. Social interactions were never really my forte, especially after the accident. With the big guy around, I didn’t think that anybody would want to be friendly with me. I assumed that everyone was afraid. With Y/N, however, it was different. She never once looked at me with fear in her eyes. Her disposition was so warm, so welcoming. If I ever needed someone to talk to I knew she’d be there, and she knew I was there if she ever needed the same. Around her I could be myself. She just felt safe. 

After a while I noticed she had grown quiet, her mind drifting off to somewhere else. She sat in her chair, her head tilted upward towards the sky, her brow furrowed in deep thought. 

“You okay?” I asked, concerned that she was upset.

 “Yeah, I just- I wish I could see the stars.”

I looked up, my eyes met with the inky blackness that was the New York sky, all of its stars drowned out by the light pollution and smog. 

“Yeah, it really is a shame isn’t it?” I questioned, receiving an affirming hum from her in return.

At that point we both sat quietly, our eyes transfixed on the sky above in search for the stars that were never going to appear. The silence settled between us comfortably. I knew she was getting ready to say something, but I couldn’t be sure what. 

“When I was a kid,” she began, “We lived in this house out in the country. Out there the stars were breathtaking. You could see every constellation so clearly.” 

I saw her lips curve upwards in response to the happy memories replaying in her mind. 

“Before my mom died, whenever I was upset or stressed out, she would take me out to the backyard. Together we would lay in the grass and just stare up at the sky. We would stay like that for hours; it was peaceful.” 

Her head dropped, her eyes now gazing forward onto the cityscape before us. “I miss that”, she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

In that moment, as I observed her melancholic gaze. I wanted nothing more than to give her what she wanted, to give her the stars.

Then after a moment of thought, I realized that I could. 

                                    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next night I found her in the very same spot, looking over the city lights and skyscrapers unable to sleep once more. 

At the sound of the elevator’s ding she turned to face me , her lips once again forming a smile at the sight of my presence. 

“Two nights in a row?” Y/N questioned, “ That big brain of yours must be really fucking tired.” 

“Actually,” I said,  “this big brain of mine has something to show you.” I waved my hand signaling for her to follow me. 

She smiled in both confusion and amusement as she stepped into the elevator. We stood side by side, our shoulders brushing up against one another as we made our descent down to the lab. 

“Now close your eyes.” I requested 

“Bruce what is this-” 

“It’s a surprise, now close your eyes.”

She complied, the corners of her lips turning upwards as I grabbed her hand and led her down the hall to the lab. I led her to the center of the room and requested her remain there as I went and turned off every light I could find within the vicinity. Afterwards I felt my way back to her through the darkness and positioned myself so we stood directly in front of one another. 

“Okay now open your eyes.” 

“Bruce, is the surprise the news that I’ve gone blind?” she questioned causing us both to laugh. 

“No, just watch.” 

At the press of a button the room became illuminated with starlight. Stars, galaxies and planets hovered above our heads, in majestic hues of purple and blue. The scene was nothing short of magic. The universe on full display, three dimensionally projected all around us. 

At the sight of the stars above her, I saw Y/N’s face light up. Her face filled with amazement as she beheld the multitude of constellations shining before her eyes. Her smile beamed, its brightness competing with that of the brightest stars in the room. 

To me she was the brightest star in the room. 

She slowly spun in a circle in the attempt to fully take in her surroundings, her eyes reflecting the twinkling of the floating stars. She was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. 

She turned to me, her eyes glistening with moisture. “Bruce I-” 

“Do you like it?” I asked, her lack of words worrying me. Maybe this was too much?

Her silence, however, was replaced by her embrace. She took me in her arms as she gently wrapped them around my neck and pulled me close to her. 

“Thank you, Bruce. Thank you so much.” She whispered, her voice cracking at the end. 

I held her tighter in an attempt to pull her in even closer. Her embrace radiated pure love, a love I hadn't felt in a long long time. 

“Y-you’re welcome.” I answered, overwhelmed with adoration. 

As we pulled away I looked at her face illuminated by the glimmering starlight. I felt as though she was the only person that mattered, that she was the most precious thing this world had to offer. In that moment I would have gone to the ends of the universe if she pleased. I would have given her all the stars in the galaxy; and to this day, I still would.

[timextoxhajima]

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 9 - Obligation

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @sunwoowuvbot​ @suzy-rainbow​ @miingxuxi​ ​​

“It was like Se Kyung’s eyes had been surgically transferred into another body. ”

Hesitation stops Kim Jo-Pil for a few seconds. He parts his quivering lips and takes a deep breath, then says, just loud enough for Juyeon to hear, “I made a mistake. One too big for me to dig a hole and throw it in.”

Juyeon’s frown deepens, and he hears the sheets shuffling in the bedroom. He reaches forward, pulling Jang Won’s door shut.

It is only in Kim Jo-Pil’s home-made office (also known as Jang Won’s second guest room) that Juyeon is surprised by the number of mini and portrait-sized canvasses painted by his wife. Just for a split second, Juyeon buys it. Maybe Kim Jo-Pil isn’t as horrid of a person Kim Jang Won thinks he is.

But it’s the picture of their family sitting on his desk that ironically turns Juyeon’s head around.

“What is all this? For show? For when Jang Won storms in and you’ll think she’ll go soft, seeing all this?”

Kim Jo-Pil lands himself in the sofa seat next to the bed, piled with files and documents and boxes, leaving Juyeon to stand awkwardly by the end of the bed, eyes scanning the mess in the room.

“You sound like her... after her mother passed and before I did.”

Juyeon’s nostrils flare. “If you don’t want to tell me why you decided to come back and ruin her life, so be it. I don’t need to stand here and listen to all your-”

“Younghoon wasn’t Se Kyung’s first child.”

Silence.

Juyeon’s heart halts in his chest. 

Kim Jo-Pil looks out the window, eyes looking in the distance where the city’s skyscrapers were kissing the sun. “Se Kyung had a child born out of wedlock before she married me. But they made her choose. The child’s life or her freedom.”

“Back then, The Board already had administrations favouring arranged marriages between families under the conglomerate. It was an easy system to keep the number of royalties under control. The cycle repeats itself. Two families become one, and a new family joins. Superpowers are reduced from two to one overnight, and The Board would never have to be worried about being overthrown because the supers would simply be too busy outdoing each other and seeking validation from the administration.”

“Did you know?” Juyeon whispers. “That she already had a child?”

“I knew... not because I was meant to, but because I wanted to. It was The Board’s annual Christmas Charity Event in the early 1990s and Se Kyung had gone with her parents, and I had gone with mine. She was sweeter than a daisy in a meadow full of flowers. She was polite, kind, and had a reputation for being the most stubborn creature on the planet, even then. It was one of the many things that Jang Won had inherited from her.”

“She spent her early twenties away from home, supposedly in another country working her way through foreign industries and making a name for herself. I didn’t know she had returned until my father told me that the Yoo family had chosen to merge with another - mine - I couldn’t be happier. One night, I decided to sneak to into their property and propose to her formally, way before the arrangements were to be made public. And... I heard it. The crying. Fighting.”

Kim Jo-Pil’s eyes fall. “She had returned with a child in hopes to bond her to the Yoo family. The father was a coward and ran once he had heard she was from a reputable family. Too much politics, too much money.”

“But the baby. Oh, the baby. Sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My poor, poor Se Kyung... She was given the options: Marry into the Kim family and give the baby away, or her parents will have it dispensed like it had never been born.”

By now, Kim Jo-Pil has tears in his eyes.

“After we had Younghoon, something in Se Kyung clicked back to life. I remember the night she delivered him. The sparkle in her eyes that I fell in love with the day I met her had returned... but I knew for a fact that I needed to find her first-born, no matter the implications. It was the least I could do for her. By then, the child had to be a few years older than Younghoon and so, I spent the time that I should’ve spent with Se Kyung and my own children looking for her - the baby.”

“Se Kyung lost her parents in an accident the night Jang Won was born. She lost the worst nightmares of her life in exchange for a beautiful baby girl... so, what more could she ask for?”

Kim Jo-Pil sucks a deep breath. “I couldn’t find the child. I went to all the orphanages and the foster homes and by then Se Kyung had already fallen ill. Brain cancer - inherited. All I wanted was to return Se Kyung was her first-born and yet I did not deliver. When Jang Won was 16, Se Kyung passed. The last foster home that had taken care of the child said that she had reached a legal age to take care of herself. She could’ve gone under the radar if she wanted, changed her name if she wanted, and I’ll never be able to find her. Little did I know that she had grown to become much more of a person than I ever expected her to be, and she had been practicing advanced medicine throughout her college life.”

Juyeon is giddy from the influx of information, and so he braces himself when his own neurons piece the puzzle together.

“She was the one who revived you. The child.”

The elder shuts his eyes and lets the tears dribble over his lids.

It felt like a dream. The ache in his chest. The rough texture of gravel under his cheek when he collapsed. But Kim Jo-Pil opens his eyes, in thorough shock, when he realises he’s not in the hospital, but in some worn-down warehouse with a bunch of illegal medication that shouldn’t even be legally available outside of the hospital.

He had remembered the lights in the operating theatre, and even the sound of his slowing heartbeat in the drums of his ears.

So how is it possible that he’s-

“Ah, you’re awake! I was starting to worry that it didn’t work, Goddamn Narcan.”

Kim Jo-Pil tries to move, but he can’t. He couldn’t move a single muscle in his body besides his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The lights above him had been preventing him from seeing her face, and when he did, he swore he could’ve been snapped into two when he recognised her eyes.

She pushes away the lights and turns to remove her surgical equipment, the sound of latex snapping away from her fingers echo through the dismay of the room. She returns her attention to Kim Jo-Pil.

It was like Se Kyung’s eyes had been surgically transferred into another body.

“I’m Yoo Hye In, and I heard you’ve been searching for me.”

Exasperated and in disbelief, Juyeon runs his hands through his hair, turning to make sure the door of the room was shut. 

“Why are you even telling me this? How do I know I can trust you to tell me the truth?”

“Yes, because I have all the damn time in the world to be cooking up this story!” He gets up and pulls up his shirt, revealing a stitched scar right over where his heart was. “I trust you because you have no reason to backstab her.” 

He releases his shirt. 

“Other than Younghoon, I don’t know if anybody else in this system can offer her any kind of security.”

“How do you know I’m not gonna run off after getting half of HERA & ARTEMIS?”

“Because if you wanted to, you wouldn’t have been such a jerk to her over your wedding.”

Juyeon presses his fingers over his closed lids. His vision is blurred when he opens them. 

“Why don’t you just tell Jang Won about this? She can protect you. She can sieve out this... Yoo Hye In, give her what she wants-”

“Jang Won will never give Hye In what she wants.”

Juyeon can feel the edges of his lips curl downwards and his lids getting heavier from mental exhaustion. “...Hye In wants HERA & ARTEMIS?”

Kim Jo-Pil’s eyes can’t seem to leave the floor. He can’t help the dreaded feeling of failure drowning his conscience as a father, as someone who was rightfully supposed to protect her. 

“So, what’s your plan? Hye In wants HERA & ARTEMIS, and you know for a fact that Jang Won won’t give that up... like, ever. What happens if Hye In doesn’t get HERA & ARTEMIS?”

“Hye In will go to the press. Her existence being Yoo Se Kyung’s first-born out of wedlock will destroy everything this family has built. Hera’s Manor, HERA & ARTEMIS, Artemis...” He shakes his head. “Either gone or hers. She’s playing saint by not doing that directly.”

“But what does Yoo Se Kyung’s mistake have anything to do with Jang Won?” Juyeon seethes, inhaling such a deep breath that his chest hurt. “This is unfair. She should not have to go through this-”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Kim Jo-Pil’s lower lip trembles, a hardening gaze plastered to Juyeon. 

Heaviness blankets the room. Juyeon’s frown feels cemented into his forehead as he sits at the edge of the crowded bed, fingers on his temple. 

“Juyeon.”

The younger side-eyes the elder, cautious. 

“Once you’ve acquired Apple-Korea, I want you to buy all of HERA & ARTEMIS, then acquire Artemis Entertainment as well.”

“You know Jang Won won’t allow that.”

“Try. You’ll have the power to and she can’t exactly stop you,” He huffs, chest rising. “She doesn’t need to know yet. I will tell her the truth when it blows over.”

“’Blows over’? How is this going to ‘blow over’? You just said Hye In won’t give in until she gets HERA & ARTEMIS.”

“But she can’t fight for ownership if it’s the owner is not of Yoo’s descent. Which means once you acquire all of HERA & ARTEMIS-”

“Then she’s no longer a threat.”

Kim Jo-Pil nods. “But you will need Jang Won’s trust to acquire all of HERA & ARTEMIS, and she cannot know about Hye In before that happens. Once the order is out of place, Jang Won will stop at nothing to fight for HERA & ARTEMIS, not knowing that she’ll be fighting a lost war.”

“Jang Won doesn’t even trust Younghoon. How do you expect her to trust me?”

“Look at where you’re standing,” Her father turns, but doesn’t look at Juyeon directly. The sun kisses a single side of his face as his eyes scan the room. “You’re standing in Hera’s Manor, and you’re her first overnight guest in five years. I’d say you have a pretty good chance at earning the rest of her trust.”

Juyeon winces slightly, shutting his lids to process the information. There’s a grave sense of responsibility perched on his shoulders now, and the dread that lingers in the back of his skull when he thinks of Yoo Hye In strutting around in public makes him uneasy. 

Juyeon finds himself mindlessly heading for the dining hall, where Mr Ro was finishing up the preparation of the wide array of food on the side table. The butler bows, but it goes unnoticed. He pulls the chair back for Juyeon to sit, and eventually calls him a cup of coffee when he notices Juyeon’s lack of attention. 

“Mr Ro.”

“Hmm?” The chocolate-brown shade of coffee glitters under the light from outside. 

“How long do you think it’ll take Jang Won to trust me?”

Mr Ro pulls away, handing the pot of coffee to another staff. “Well, Mr Lee... that depends on what circumstance we’re envisioning.”

“Her life. Maybe something she loves, something she can’t live without.”

“So, a prized possession.”

“Mm.”

Mr Ro pauses for a thought. 

“Long, but play your cards right, and she will eventually trust you.”

Juyeon offers a strained curve of his lips when Mr Ro bows and returns to the kitchen, leaving him with a bunch of pastries that should be sold in some five-star hotel instead.

Jang Won strolls into the dining hall dawned in a gorgeous full-fitted set, make-up and hair done like she was going for her own press conference. Juyeon remains quiet at the table, only looking up once when she first enters, then he returns to spreading Nutella on his croissant.

“Jesus, do we not have anything from Younghoon or my father to let him wear besides those pajamas?”

“You lent me these pajamas, don’t make it sound like it was my bad choice to make. Besides, they are comfortable and cute,” Juyeon looks down at himself.

Jang Won gruffly scoffs. “Of course it’s comfortable. It’s made from Supima cotton. What do you think we are, savages?”

“Mrs Lee, I-”

“Call me that again and I will fire you,” She abruptly instructs, glaring at her butler.

“Ms Kim,” He corrects himself. “We have already called Younghoon’s fitters to bring by some wardrobe for Mr Lee before he joins you for the itinerary meeting.”

“Itinerary meeting?” She whips her head from Mr Ro to Juyeon, who was busy licking the Nutella off the knife he was using. “Don’t you have to be in the office or something?”

“And do what? Put myself in a situation where my parents can come to kidnap me home? No thanks.”

Jang Won leans back in her seat as the staff places a cup of tea in front of her, surprised at Juyeon’s enthusiasm with something that he didn’t need to worry about.

“Well, I have a doctor’s appointment after, so, you can come back home after unless you want to hang around old, dying people.”

“What?” Juyeon sneers. “What for? You look perfectly fine to me.”

“That’s because I have been going for these medical checkups, dumbass. I’m not gonna stand around and then what if I magically die of a heart attack- then what? Give you all of HERA & ARTEMIS and Artemis Entertainment? Pshht!”

Juyeon purses his lips - a terrible attempt at hiding his smile. 

Young Jin Seol [12.13pm]: Your father just dropped by this morning. He knows you’re at Hera’s Manor. 

Young Jin Seol [12.14pm]: He’s requesting for a meal, for him and Mrs Lee as well as you and Kim Jang Won after you return from your honeymoon.

He quietly locks the device, attention drifting from the messages to Jang Won, who was busy strolling about the office. The ride here had been quiet, for Juyeon had chosen to drive and Jang Won sent two guards to Kim Sunwoo’s residence to get her Mercedes back. 

Heavy and thoughtful, Juyeon thought. The atmosphere in the car was strange, and he can’t help but to wonder of Jang Won was even aware she had a nightmare (or a trauma relapse, or whatever you called one of those) earlier in the morning. Maybe it was the accustomed sight of Jang Won being as cold and rigid as a statue that makes it harder to bear. Juyeon fails, when he tries to restrain the ache that devours his chest, unable to remove the image of her crying and holding on to that mini canvas like it were her life. 

The door of the office clicks open and it steals both his and her attention, the tour agency officer bowing to the two tycoons with files in her arms. Juyeon stands, patting down his pants. 

“Mr Lee!” She holds out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Mrs Lee didn’t make your attendance known.”

Juyeon smiles politely at her, shaking her hand whilst admiring the distasteful grimace on Jang Won’s face at the address. 

“Please, just call me Juyeon, and my wife, Jang Won. We’re still not used to the new... salutations.”

The officer offers a low chuckle, turning to Jang Won and raising a cheeky brow. Juyeon’s left brow twitches when Jang Won’s grimace remains cemented into her lips, and yet the officer was still grinning like an idiot. 

“Do you two know each other?”

“Call me ‘Mrs Lee’ one more time, and I will murder you,” Jang Won seethes, opening her arms and pulling her into a tight hug. An exhale gets punched out of Juyeon, feeling somewhat at ease with the change in atmosphere. 

“I knew that would totally get you on edge,” The officer laughs, patting Jang Won on her back between her shoulder blades. Pulling away, she turns to Juyeon and bows, this time more candidly. “I’m Ki Hae Ri, your tour officer for your honeymoon next week.”

Watching Jang Won talk to Hae Ri was almost like watching her get possessed by a 13-year-old teenager. More than amused, Juyeon wasn’t even paying attention to the actual content Hae Ri was talking about regarding the itinerary - all he could see was the bright smile on Jang Won’s face. 

And for once, since the day he first met her, this smile was genuine. Her eyes are folded into crescents when she laughs and chortles and berates Hae Ri for every little detail she puts in the conversation to tease Jang Won. 

“And for you, Mr Lee,” Hae Ri’s voice snaps him out of his mindless admiration. “Jang Won here has told me that you like diving and so I must tell you that she suggested of doing Belize.”

The folder slides across the table, and Jang Won shoots Hae Ri a look of betrayal. Automatically darting his attention to Jang Won, Juyeon’s fingers trail the edges of the folder, a picture of the Belize Blue Hole printed on the cover page.

Clearing her throat, Jang Won looks afar, refusing to even face him. “So it’s an 8-hour drive, or a 1.5 hour flight from Guatemala to Belize. It was a suggestion in one of the itinerary sets anyway.”

Juyeon looks up from the 3-day Belize stay itinerary, noticing Hae Ri’s prideful, cheeky grin stretched up her lips. 

Back in the car, Juyeon’s hands are on the steering wheel, engine already churning and the air-conditioner blasting the coolness into their faces. Jang Won waits for some moments, before realising the amount of movement in the car - or rather, the lack thereof.

“Hello? Doctor’s appointment?” The edge in her voice is back and Juyeon can’t help but wonder just how she does it - being so cold and caring at the same time. “If you’re not interested, then you can just get the fuck out and I’ll call Mr Ro to come pick you up.”

Juyeon pauses for a moment, collecting the vocabulary in his head.

“My parents want to meet us for a meal after we return from our honeymoon.”

The whir of the air-conditioner suddenly sounds a little louder. 

“What for?” Jang Won snorts. “Is your mom planning on baking cupcakes and apologising for making this the worst decision of your life, even though it wasn’t even yours to make?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll have to go. They are still my parents.”

“What?” She criticises, her upper lip hooked upwards. “You ran away! From home! And now you want to just... bring a basket of fruits to a picnic with them just ‘cause they’re your parents? Ha!”

“Look, I don’t like it either, but if we don’t do this then they’ll just be bugging me forever and if that happens then I can’t do what you want me to do with HERA & ARTEMIS peacefully. If anything, they might just fuck shit up if they don’t have this meal with us.”

“‘Fuck shit up’? I’ll fuck them up-”

“We’ll go, and that’ll be the end of it, okay? Trust me, you don’t want them dipping their noses into our shit once we start with all the ownership administration.”

“’Dipping their noses’? Just who the Hell do your parents think they are? They don’t even own any of the companies related to the-”

“I know, God damn it,” Juyeon finally rebuts, patience running thin. “But they have power. According to The Board’s conglomerate, my family is on the same tier as yours.”

Jang Won huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window. 

“Just... just this once, and they’ll go easy. It’s not worth picking a fight with them, I promise you. Okay?”

Jang Won struggles to remove the frown off her forehead. She knows it’s not his fault. She knows his parents are shitty people.

And yet, for some reason, she’s jealous that Juyeon even has parents to feel obligated towards. 

Destiny, prophecy, fate. You name it. Just what is it that makes things so complicated in life? Circumstances can be created, changed, altered. Jang Won can question God about how she ended up right in this very spot every day, but she won’t get an answer, ever. Juyeon can wonder why she had to be the one responsible for her mother’s mistake, and he’ll never know why either. 

Juyeon trails carefully behind Jang Won, slightly surprised that she wasn’t visiting the area’s best hospital for her medical checkups. Not that this was one was bad, but it was... affordable. Taking in the sights and sounds as he enters the main hall, Jang Won advances towards the registration counter and pulls off her sunglasses.

“Here,” She slides a clipboard to the side. “Fill this visitor registration form up.” 

Juyeon picks up the pen, watching her pull out her wallet and hand it over to the administration staff. 

“Hi, I have an appointment with Ms Yoo Hye In.”

Juyeon’s eyes dart upwards from the visitor registration sheet, pupils flitting between the administrator and Jang Won, who was calmly signing into some check in registry. He can feel his breath grow shaky and unstable and all of a sudden, Jang Won’s looking at him like he was the crazy person in the room.

“What? Are you okay?” 

He parts his lips to deny the question, wishing to brush it off and simultaneously, maybe convince himself that it was just someone with the same name. 

“Jang Won! I was wondering if you were going MIA today again.”

Ironically, his heart stops. Jang Won puts on her service smile and provides her doctor a subtle wave as the two close the distance between them. 

“Of course not. Gotta make my check-up down-payment worth it. I can’t run around the city working my work if I’m unwell, can I?” 

“Well, I see you brought the future director of Apple-Korea with you,” Yoo Hye In turns to Juyeon, eyes bright and her smile convincingly kind. Her hair was short, well trimmed, and Juyeon was almost in shock that he could see the similarities between her and Jang Won. 

The tycoon whips her head upon the silence, almost shifting to nudge him. “Juyeon.”

“No, no, it’s okay! No need to rush him,” Yoo Hye In grins widely, offering a hand to him. “I’m Jang Won’s personal doctor, Yoo Hye In. You can call me Hye In.”

[babbushka]

Beyond Reasonable Doubt (ch.1)

                                –      A Lawyer AU      –

You and Kylo Ren have hated one another for as long as you can remember. He, a criminal prosecutor, and you, a defense attorney should be natural-born enemies, and you are. But when Kylo comes to you seeking representation after being charged for a murder he didn’t commit, you both learn a thing or two about life, the law, and love…

[5k, no warnings for this first chapter!] 

Available on AO3

                                          ----------------------------

In a world of ever-changing circumstances, where people do things that cause ripples and shocks through the very fabric of society that shake them to their core, where the sun shines and rain falls and snow blows cold through the streets of Manhattan, where there is life and death and a mess of bullshit in between, there was but one thing that you could ever comfortably rely on in life.

Only one thing remained constant in the grand scheme of it all: your alarm.

With a grunt and sigh, your arm extends out from underneath the covers to smack at the loud blaring jingle that sounds from your phone, hand desperately trying to hit the dismiss button without looking so that you don’t have to face the day just yet. It’s too early, you reason, to pull your whole self out from under the covers.

Eventually you give that thought up though, because dammit now you’re awake and it’s Monday morning and you have an office that’s waiting for you uptown. So, ever grudgingly, you throw the plush comforter off of your body and stretch to greet the day, saying good morning to the city that never sleeps.

You don’t usually dread waking up, but well, the last time you’d been in the office was Friday afternoon, after you lost your case.

After you lost your case, to him.

Glancing at the clock on your phone, you chew your lip for a moment or two, before finally turning off the do not disturb function, immediately going into the bathroom to shower and ready yourself for the day while damn near a hundred backlogged notifications make your phone buzz nearly onto the floor.

There’s a small mirror in the shower, a little compact to make sure there’s nothing left on your face after you scrub your skin clean, and you catch your own reflection in it. You’ve looked better, that was for damn sure – but by that same token, you’ve also looked worse. Mondays were shit, but today was gearing up to be an even worse one than normal.

No, you think as you shake your head adamantly, you have no desire to let him soak up any more of your good mood than he had already. So what if you had forgone your entire weekend, canceling plans and ignoring friends to nurse the sting to your pride that was losing? So what if instead of checking your email or your phone, you sat yourself on the couch and wasted two entire days doing nothing but watching shitty shows on Netflix?

What you did on your downtime was nobodies’ business, and since you live alone in your beautiful one-bedroom in SoHo, no one was there to spill your secrets. If anyone asked – not that anyone would, if they knew what was good for them – you would tell them that you absolutely did not spend the weekend wanting to throw darts onto a photo of his face. That wouldn’t be very professional, now would it?

Shutting off the water, you wrap yourself up in a big plush towel, and pad across the floor to your closet. Briefly, ever so briefly, you glance at your phone on your way, holding your breath, wondering, hoping that there might be something from him.

If there is, it’s buried under a pile of emails and text-threads from your firm, so he’ll have to wait.

Manhattan in January was chilly, so you bundle yourself up in your chicest coat overtop your most well-fitting skirt suit and a pair of heeled boots. Even if you felt like shit, you could look like million fuckin’ bucks, and no one would be the wiser.

And what a wonder the power of confidence was! Through the streets and down to the subway, you smiled at everyone, and they all smiled back. You offered your seat on the train to an elderly man who clearly needed it more than you, and he complimented your gloves. Everyone from the NYPD officer drinking his coffee to the mom scolding her three children brightened as you wished them a good morning, and somehow, along the way to work, your Monday blues disappears into something a little brighter.

                                         ----------------------------

Your good mood only continues to grow as you exit the elevator of the huge high-rise that you call your home away from home, your office on the twenty-third floor right in the heart of the Upper West Side. Sandwiched between the Hudson and Central Park, you have to admit that getting your ass out of bed was worth it, even if just for this view.

“Morning (Y/N).” The front desk security guard greets you, and you say hello back to him with a performative show of your badge.

HKS Law, so named after the founders and current partners Amilyn Holdo, Ben Kenobi, and Luke Skywalker, is a shining pinnacle of what defense attorneys and opposing counsel at trials should be. Not only had the firm made history time and time again with incredible wins and even more incredible ultimate losses, but it prided itself on being representation for the people no one else could represent.

Most of all, it had you.

If your alarm was a constant, than this was a universal truth: you are a damn good defense attorney. As you walk through the crisp and clean polished floors, you hold your head high, knowing that this loss against him still put you at the lowest loss rate of anyone in the history of HKS, lower than even the founders themselves.

That little reminder has you grinning to yourself. You’d been working with HKS for nearly six years now, and very quickly you saw your office climbing higher and higher up the skyscraper, saw it getting bigger and bigger. And now, you were nearly positive, that your meeting at eleven o’clock would be to discuss partnership with the firm as a reward for your continued hard work.

“Hey (Y/N)!” One of the associates, Rose Tico smiles at you from where she’s chatting with her sister Paige by their desks.  

“Someone looks like they had a nice weekend.” Paige remarks, and you only wink at them, playing the game.

A game, which becomes instantly easier as your assistant, a bright-eyed intern fresh out of law school appears seemingly out of nowhere.

“(Y/N), good morning!” She is already offering you a cup of something nice and hot, her arm cradling a stack of manilla folders that have all sorts of sticky-note flags on them, that she shifts onto her hip ever so slightly to brush a few loose braids out of her face, speaking at what feels like a million miles a second, “I have your coffee ready and there’s a fresh breakfast buffet in the break room if you’d like, I can get you something – ”

“Good morning Neisha.” You accept the coffee gratefully, but interrupting her only to give her a chance to catch her breath. You check your watch, it’s only half-past seven, she’ll wear herself out if she exerts that much energy first thing. “A bagel with the usual would be perfect, thank you.”

“No problem – oh, Rick wanted you to look over those case files before your eleven-o’clock.” She breathes a sigh of relief, and gives you a smile.

Groaning, you accept the manilla folders too, balancing the coffee cup on top of them as Iman follows you into your own private office. Your assistant stands in front of your desk at the ready, looking sharp and put together, as ever.

One thing that you loved about Neisha – aside from the dozens of things that you admired and appreciated about her – was that you have never ever seen her in something other than a pantsuit. She did not wear dresses or skirts, she was almost never in heels, and she did not carry a purse. Instead, Neisha could almost always be found in a very smart trouser and blazer set, often complete with vests, and fun-colored socks in her loafers to coordinate with her ever-expanding collection of ties.

“Rick can go fuck himself.” You mutter under your breath, and she laughs.

“Should I tell him you said that?” With a playful glimmer in her eye, she crosses her arms over her broad chest.

“Yes.” You wink, before checking your watch once again and reminding her about that, “Bagel?”

“Bagel – right, on it.” Neisha snaps her fingers and leaves, closing the office door behind her.

 You like your office, even if you’ve outgrown it. Much like the rest of the firm, it has stayed up to date with the contemporary interior design of the day. However where the open floor of the firm is mostly whites and silvers and glass, your office feels warmer with shades of coffee browns and creamy neutrals. 

Remembering how you had been so excited for the promotion to your own office, you can’t help but chuckle to yourself now – it really was a small office. It consisted of a long dark brown desk situated in front of a wall-unit bookshelf/display area, and a seating arrangement of matching brown chairs situated around a free-edge wooden coffee-table. A soft rug covers the marble flooring, and cream gauzy curtains cover the windows, but that was about it.

You had been to the offices of the higher ups, you knew just what you could achieve if you made partner – even if you made junior partner.

And if all went well during this meeting at eleven, you knew you’d be moving into one of those offices soon.

For the first time all weekend, you sit down in the big leather chair behind your desk and finally check your phone. The case files remain on your desk, and you know you’ll get to them eventually, but until you’ve had some breakfast and that coffee can work its magic, no one could blame you for scrolling through the shit that you had put off since Friday.

It’s mostly work friends taking your side, which you appreciate. They knew losing a case was hard for you – you didn’t do it very often. And even though you never lost to anyone besides him, it still never got easier.

The case had been a simple one, or at least, you had thought so. Murders are so often simple, either the person did it, or they didn’t. If they did, there’s evidence, and if they didn’t, well, there’s evidence too. And when two parties come forward with their own evidence, compelling, strong fucking evidence – evidence of alibis and proof that your client couldn’t have been there, couldn’t have done it – it’s up to the jury to decide who to believe.

In this case, this jury decided to believe him, and there was nothing you could do about it. It was losses like this, losses like the knowledge than an innocent man was going to prison, that make you seriously question the legal system as a whole, frankly.

It’s then that you see it, and your hand freezes.

You have a missed message from him.

He’s saved in your contacts as the dick from VTH, and even though that could refer to any number of people, you know that it’s him. You have five missed messages from him, as a matter of fact, which sends both a rush of adrenaline through you, as well as a spike of anxiety.

The two of you…you’d never been friends, not really. In fact, the closest thing to a relationship that you might have is that of a rivalry, if not flat out enemies. You hated him, and he hated you, and he had hated you ever since the first day he set eyes on you, from the very first moment you walked into the courtroom as a last-minute addition to the defense counsel, and won the case in fifteen minutes.

Which was a shame, because you often find yourself thinking that if he weren’t such a…well, a dick, there could have been something there. Instead of a friendship, or even a civil acquaintanceship, you have over the years developed something of a hate-fucking-enemies-with-benefits arrangement. He was probably pissed that you ignored him all weekend, but that was okay – let him be pissed, you were pissed too.

You don’t open his messages, not yet. You’d need coffee in you and food in your stomach before you’re able to handle whatever mood he has to be in, now that you’ve got the energy to deal with him.

You’re so deep in thought that you nearly miss when Neisha returns with a plate for you, a big spread arranged on your desk for you to enjoy. You’re about to thank her and let her get on with whatever work she has to do, but she holds out a newsletter with a devious smile and curiosity gets the better of you.

“Have you seen?” She asks, and you raise a brow, a smile of your own creeping across your face.

The newsletter was something that circulated through the different firms in the area, keeping everyone up to date – or at least as up to date as legally possible – on the goings on in the sphere of influence that you all found yourselves in. Everything from congratulatory memos to case results, and even high profile celebrity gossip was fair game, but one of the more scandalous parts of the newsletter, was the publication of trouble that various lawyers found themselves in.

The Monday morning newsletter had quite a bit of this from over the weekend, and right there on page sixteen, is none other than his face looking as irritated as he possibly can, as he’s being given a hard time for a DUI on Friday night.

“Oh fuck.” Your eyes widen, wanting nothing more than to call him and yell at him for being a fucking idiot, “What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

“Whatever he wants, evidently.” Neisha shrugs, no doubt thinking the news would cheer you up in some sort of vengeful way that you appreciate. She reaches for a pumpernickel crisp from the spread on your desk and muses, “I bet the cops are thrilled, they hate that sonofabitch.”

“Yeah them and me both.” You mutter, already rubbing away a headache that’s starting to form across the expanse of your forehead. “He’s not going to be pleased about that photo, he looks rumpled.”

Sighing, you look down at the photo. He’s very clearly intoxicated, you’ve seen that look in his eyes more than once, the blurry out of focused glassy look that he gives you over smiles at dinner sometimes. You blink away the image of him in a nice suit on the other end of a table, reminding yourself that you’re angry with him.

“Doesn’t he have a driver? I wonder why he got behind the wheel himself.” Neisha continues, and bless her you think, for continually giving you a means to not be left alone with your thoughts.

“If there’s one thing I know about that man, it’s that when he sets him mind to something, no one is going to stop him from doing it.” You reply, not able to ignore a bit of gut-wrenching regret.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so mad at him, you could’ve gone with him to wherever he was coming back from, and maybe you could’ve --

“Should I have this framed?” Neisha asks, and you blink again.

You check your watch, it’s only a quarter ‘til eight. Have you really only been at work for fifteen minutes? That stack of folders sits on the edge of your desk, taunting you. You’re gearing up for an extra long day.

“No, that’s okay.” You shake your head, opening the bottom drawer of your desk and dropping the newsletter into it. “I will keep a hold onto it though. Just for fun.”

With a laugh, Neisha leaves and once again closes your office door.

“God dammit.” You grumble, pulling your phone out yet again.

The unread messages from him sit buried beneath thirty other messages that don’t warrant responses, and you hover your thumb over his name.

After all these years, something about getting a text from him made your heart jump. It felt stupid, you weren’t some teenager with a crush in high school, you were an adult, and this was just another adult, who you happened to have developed some sort of attachment to. Not a friendship, or a relationship even, but some kind of attachment.

Right now, you wanted to bitch at him for getting himself into trouble, for driving while he was so very clearly drunk, a whole argument prepared about how he could have seriously hurt or even killed someone, how even though he’s a rich asshole he can’t afford to be so reckless.

But first, in order to bitch at him, you have to read what he’s sent you over the weekend, and that’s where you keep tripping up. You don’t know why, but when you do finally open up his texts, you find that you’re holding your breath until you read them.

You try to ignore the way the thread starts out, try to ignore how if anyone were to squint, they might think something was going on between you two.

 Incoming: [1/8 6:03am] just picking up croissants from that place u like. jam?

[1/8 6:10am] Yeah, raspberry if they have

Incoming: [1/8 6:11am] on it, go back 2 bed.

 That had been just over a week ago, and you remember the day well, how you exchanged smiles over bites of fresh and flaky pastry, how you had dipped the croissants into hot chocolate in his bed, not giving a fuck about the crumbs that weren’t your problem because they weren’t your sheets.

How that was the last time you had seen him, before the conclusion of the case.

Now, now that you’d lost, the tone of the thread has very clearly shifted to something much colder. One thing you’re surprised to see though, is that they’re all from around Friday night, which was unusual.

 Incoming: [1/15 7:43pm] going out 2 celebrate tonight, join me

Incoming: [1/15 8:57pm] u can’t ignore me forever u know

Incoming: [1/16 12:02am] i’m glad u didn’t come, ud fucking hate it here. theyre playing music 2 loud

Incoming: [1/16 12:15am] r u seriously still mad?

Incoming: [1/16 1:09am] Fuck you.

 Rolling your eyes, you rub away more of that headache that starts to form. It was weird that he didn’t text you at all for the whole day of Saturday, or Sunday for that matter. If you didn’t spend the weekend together, he was very content to simply blow your phone up with links to random bullshit or long text conversations in broken grammar because his thumbs were too big for the buttons.

So for there to be radio silence after one o’clock in the morning was strange.

“For fucks sake.” You find yourself texting him back without even thinking about it, your fingers moving over the keyboard easily and quickly, sending off a slightly antagonizing reply after two days of nothing;

 [1/18 7:55am] Looks like you had quite the night on Friday.

 There, you think. That should get a response out of him. No doubt he would be quick to complain about how he had been pulled over and the whole nine yards. You wait for it to come through, the text. Or more accurately, the string of impassioned paragraphs that he tends to send you.

But a minute go by, and there’s nothing.

Five minutes, and nothing still.

You know you have to work, you have shit to do, you have that big meeting in a couple hours that you have to mentally prepare for, there’s no time to be worrying about him not texting you back. Still, you don’t like the silence. Sure that makes you a hypocrite, but he deserved your cold shoulder for beating you in court. At least, that’s how you justify it for yourself.

Getting up from your desk, you hover in the doorframe, where your assistant’s desk sits just outside to act as a buffer for anyone wanting to bother you.

“Hey Neisha?” You ask quietly, getting her attention, “I haven’t missed any calls, have I?”

A crease of confusion dips between her brows as she frowns, and immediately she checks the call logs on the conference phone that sits on her desk next to the big computer that takes up most of her space.

“No not that I can think of, are you expecting someone – ?”

Just as she’s asking, the phone rings. You lean over and see the number is one you don’t recognize, and you frown too.

“Better get that.” Neisha says awkwardly, so you just nod and retreat back into your own office from where you came.

It’s been seven minutes now, and there’s still nothing from him.

“Fine, fuck you too.” You mutter at the phone, locking it and putting it in the shallow drawer of your desk so you can focus on the folders in front of you finally.

 The stack is pretty normal, all the weekend material finally coming in now that it’s the start of a new week. There’s new case files to look through to decide if you’re doing to accept the client, supplementary material from old case files that you’ve asked for to review, notes and evidence belonging to associates’ cases that you said you’d give your opinion on – all mixed into one big pile.

You liked it though, liked staying busy. It was a good distraction from a loss, the ability to win, the ability to prove to yourself and to the world that you’re good at what you do. There are all sorts of awards and pieces of paper displayed on the walls of your office that show that you’re good, but still, there’s nothing like a strong win after a frustrating loss.

But you’re not even halfway through reading the first folder, when Neisha knocks on your door and opens it slowly, a look of preemptive apology on her face.

“I’m afraid you’re going to need to cancel your eleven o’clock.” She says, and you can tell by the tone of her voice that there’s no use in trying to argue with her.

You let the folder fall down onto the desk, and brace yourself for whatever bombshell she’s about to drop on you, what could possibly be so important for you to have to reschedule one of the biggest meetings of your career. They would understand, you’re sure.

You hope, anyway.

“Who is it?” Your tone is already filled with dread, but a resigned kind of dread, knowing that whatever it must be, it has to be big, and you’re the only one in this entire fucking firm who can handle big things like this – it was the reason they wanted you for partner in the first place.

But Neisha hesitates with this response, scratches the back of her neck in a way that makes you instantly curious.

“I…I was instructed not to say, just that you’ve been requested to meet with them regarding representation.” She tells you, and now your headache pounds even harder.

Clients didn’t withhold their identity from you; some used an alias of course, but you can’t say that so far in your career you’ve had a completely anonymous client. Whoever this person was, had to either be royalty, or something very very close.

And though that meant there was going to be a nightmare of a trial – because these high profile people almost never got to simple settle, not when the prosecutor wants to make a show of prosecuting them – you can’t help but think that would be a pretty good notch in your beltloop, as it were.

“Alright, where are they?” You’re already up and away from your desk, shuffling the case files into a locked cabinet.

“Rikers.” She says straight away, and you let out a groan.

“Of course they are.”

You had almost hoped that whoever this mystery client was, they had posted bail and could meet at a nice neutral location. You didn’t have anything against Rikers personally, but rather the entire prison industrial complex as a whole, and as far as New York prisons went, there were few more infamous for being unnecessarily brutal than Rikers Island.

“I can call them back and tell them you’re busy…but they sounded adamant about wanting you in particular.” Neisha nudges gently, and really there’s no need to butter you up, you’ve already made up your mind.

“I’m guessing they didn’t tell you why?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Correct.” She replies with a sheepish shrug.

You look at her, at your watch, at your phone screen which shows no new notifications from the last time that you checked it, and you square your shoulders.  

“Alright, reschedule the eleven o’clock, and let’s get out of here before Holdo freaks the fuck out on me for that.” You say, grabbing your coffee and a few more of the pastries to take in the car with you for the drive.

                                           ----------------------------

Most times, you have no problem taking the subway wherever you need to get, but visiting Rikers wasn’t as easy as hopping off the train and walking a couple blocks. For times like these, you and Neisha take one of the company cars, a sleek and shiny black thing with dark tinted windows. Cars really aren’t practical in the city, which is why you don’t have one of your own, but it was nice to be driven around from time to time in the peace and quiet of a car like this.

Normally, visitors are not allowed on Mondays or Tuesdays, but you’re not a normal person, and you’re not here for a normal visit, so once you pass through the security gate, the K-9 unit and the metal detector security tests with ease, you find it a pretty quiet lobby.

“Good afternoon Ms. (L/N), here on official duty?” One of the correctional officers that sits up by the front visitation desk beams at you.

“No, I just missed you Jake.” You reply, fishing out your identification for him even though he really doesn’t need it. Jake has worked there only a year or so, and every time you see him you can’t help but think he’s young, too young for this job, you think, too young to become desensitized to the humanity of incarcerated individuals. But that’s not a conversation that you’re here to have today, so instead you keep up the chitchat with, “How’s Lottie and the kids?”

“They’re good, who are you here for?” Jake asks as a matter of protocol, and you give Neisha a look, before looking back at him.

“That’s just the thing, I don’t know. I wasn’t informed for confidentiality reasons.” You try to explain, before leaning forward and mock-whispering to him, “Please tell me someone has me on the list and I didn’t drive all this way for nothing.”

Jake laughs, a sound that feels out of place in a place like this, and pulls something up on his computer. You can’t really see it, the list, and that’s okay. Whoever this mysterious person is, you’ll find out within just a few minutes.

“You know the drill, they’re waiting for you in the back.” Jake waves you off, and you’re glad to go.

“Wait out here.” You tell Neisha, who clearly looks uncomfortable even being in the lobby, and with good reason. She doesn’t argue you on that, instead takes a seat on a bench near Jake’s table, and the two of them get to chatting while your boots click on the floors as you walk away.

There’s a couple different visitation areas in the jail, and the deeper into the building you go, the more that you’re glad that visitation isn’t allowed on Mondays. You don’t want the chance of running into someone that you had failed. Granted there had only been a handful of those instances, but the thought of any one of them being here is not outside the realm of possibility.

Through the sea of empty tables and chairs that are reserved for long term inmates who happen to have visitation privileges for good behavior, you find yourself moving deeper and deeper, until you’re at the door of another room, a closed off one more typical to that seen in movies and television shows.

Opening the door, you hang in the hallway to confirm that there’s no one else there, as there shouldn’t be. There’s eight stations, four on each side of the small room, with a phone and a pane of bulletproof glass. Right away, you have a feeling this is going to be a murder trial, if they’re not even letting you meet with the client out in the open, if they’re monitoring the phone conversation that you’re about to have.

You see a shuffle of movement out of the corner of your eye, and assume that that’s who you’re here to meet, so with your chin held high, you step into the room, and make your way to the visitation booth where a man in a bright orange jumpsuit is waiting on the other side of the glass.

Stopping as quickly as you’ve started, you stand frozen in the middle of the room, blinking away and desperately shoving aside a wave of feelings that have crashed over you at the familiar face behind the glass.

The dark hair, the deep eyes, that proud nose, those full lips, you take it all in with some strange sense of disbelief – surely this must be a dream? It has to be, even as you sit on the little stool and yank the phone off the wall, shoving it against your ear, not even knowing where to start as you try to wrap your mind around the fact that the man, this mystery client…

“Hey sweetheart.” He says, and you could smack him upside the head if only there weren’t this glass between you and Kylo Ren.

                                         ----------------------------

Tagging some pals, please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off the taglist! @safarigirlsp​ @steeevienicks​ @mochabucky​ @sacklerscumrag​ @artsymaddie​ @bitchydecisions​ @direnightshade​ @reyloaddict55​ @kylorenswhxre​ @sunflowersinthesnow​ @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief​ @drake-bells-waxed-penis @littleevilme13 @rennaissance-mama @materialisthicc​ 

[immabethehero]

Marvin’s MegaBirthday Story

Guess who made a Megamind AU with Marvin as the title character?

Here’s a quick list of characters so you won’t get confused about who’s who:

Marvin, The Malevolent Magician - Megamind

Dr. Schneeplestein, the Doctor - Minion, but human

The Brighton Shepherd - Metro Man

Jackieboy Man, the Red Marauder - Sidekick to the Shepherd, original role of sorts

Chase Brody, news reporter - Roxanne Ritchi

Anthony/Anti - Hal Stewart, without the creepy simping

CW: Police brutality, hints of starvation, strangulation and mentions of electrocution

It was a glorious day in Brighton City. Even the weather seemed aware of it as the sun shone down brightly on the silver skyscrapers and the brand new museum built into the city square.

 To celebrate the city’s greatest superhero, the grand, new museum had been dedicated to the city’s greatest hero: The Brighton Shepherd. In between the two buildings was a giant curtain, hiding a 55 foot statue for the superhero.

Reporters came to the site as early as 6 am before the crowds could roll in. Among them was the up-and-coming journalist, Chase Brody, who ran the news vlog: “Just Your Average Report”. Wearing a brand new grey and white suit to honour the Shepherd’s signature colour, Chase did vocal warm-ups while his cameraman, Anthony, set up the equipment. Unlike Chase, who had dressed handsomely for the occasion, Anthony simply wore a graphic t-shirt and a fishing vest with blue jeans. Chase tried not to let that get to him. In all the fifteen months he’d known Anthony, Chase had never seen the man wear anything other than graphic tees and the fishing vest. Today obviously wasn’t much different to Anthony.

“We’re on!” Anthony said. Chase held up his microphone in time for the camera light to turn red; he exclaimed, “Happy Brighton Shepherd Day, Brighton City! It’s a beautiful day in our  beautiful downtown, where we’re here to honour a beautiful man: The Brighton Shepherd. His heart is as big as an ocean that’s inside a bigger ocean. For years, he’s been watching us with his super-vision, saving us with his super strength, and caring for us with his super heart. Now, it’s our turn to give something back! This is Chase Brody, reporting live from the dedication of the Brighton Shepherd Museum.”

Chase signaled to Anthony, who snorted as he turned the camera off.

“Damn, the stuff the producers make you read nowadays is incredibly cheesy. Have you considered writing your own stuff?”

“I have. That was one of my pieces,” Chase said with a grin. He reveled in Anthony’s look of horror.

“I mean… I can’t believe that in our modern day society, they let… actual art get onto the news,” Anthony stammered out.

“Nice save, Anthony.”

“Cool. Can we go get a coffee now?”

“Come on, it’s time to get into the Brighton Shepherd Day spirit!” Chase said, nudging his coworker.

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Please. If the Brighton Shepherd really was all that great, he’d be able to properly protect you from the Malevolent and his crazy Doctor. For someone who gets kidnapped and rescued all the time, you sure don’t have good security.”

Chase sighed. This debate again. “I mean, it’s good for my channel! I get to film bits and pieces of the Malevolent’s laboratory! Great publicity.”

“You take too many chances with that man, I swear. What happens if the Malevolent snaps and gets violent with you? The Shepherd and his sidekick won’t be there to protect you. You could die, Chase.”

“The Malevolent won’t hurt me. If he truly wanted to, he would have done so the first time he kidnapped me,” Chase snapped. “If anything, he just wants me for more publicity. I am a popular news source.”

“Yeah? Well, they don’t always strike at first sight, Lois Lane. The dude might be waiting for the perfect moment to torture you,” Anthony continued. “I mean, even if he doesn’t invent the machines, his sidekick is smart enough to make them! I swear that man has seen some stuff and wants to inflict it on the city.”

“The Malevolent and Doctor never want to torture. Their machines may look scary at first, but they’re useless. They only want to scare.”

Anthony began loading up the truck. “You’re too trusting.The Malevolent Magician has the power to mutilate and kill in ways your “friendship-is-magic” brain could never comprehend. The Doctor is no better. They’re both just waiting to strike. Once they do, the Shepherd’s presence won’t feel so reassuring, hm?”

Anthony had his back turned long enough for Chase to feel a cold presence beside him. The smell of gas flooded his senses. The reporter turned to hear a window roll down, though he didn’t see a car. Odd.

Instead a white plague doctor mask glared back at him. Chase groaned. Here he thought he might be able to avoid being kidnapped and used as leverage by the Malevolent Magician. Apparently not! The Malevolent’s sidekick, simply known as the Doctor, was here to claim his damsel in distress. 

The Doctor raised a spray bottle and squirted it directly in Chase’s face. Chase barely had time to scream as a sudden drowsiness overtook him and the whole world went dark.

*

Step one was complete. The annoying vlogger was in the back of the van. With that accomplished, it was time to pick up the villain. Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, known to the city as the sidekick to the Malevolent Magician, drove through the busy town square and out of the main city.

The prison where the Malevolent lay was outside of town in a secluded location, or rather, in the middle of the highway leading into the city. Despite its odd location, the security was incredible. 200 security officers patrolled the site, with at least three officers supervising a special room under intense lock and key. The Malevolent himself was usually locked in large chains that only unlocked at certain times, or if Mal had behaved himself for a certain amount of time.

Schneep arrived to see the prison in chaos. Sirens blared loud enough to burst a person’s eardrums while police ran into the grey building, yelling to each other and pulling out their guns.

Amid all the chaos stood a man with a thick white moustache, standing in front of the large electrical gates, The man held up his wrist enough for Schneep to spy a silver watch on his wrist and sighed in relief. The watch had worked.

“Well, hello, good looking. Need a ride?” Schneep said, opening the door.

“Always, my dear doctor!” the man said as he hopped in. He slammed the door closed as Schneep slammed his foot on the gas and flew off.

The man twisted the watch’s case and transformed back into Malevolent. The supervillain turned to Schneep with an evil grin. “Nice job sending me the watch, Doctor! Let’s ride!”

“As you wish, my Wickedness!” Schneep yelled.

The maltreatment Mal received from the prison was not lost on the doctor. His sharp cheekbones were grimy and more pronounced, and his wrists were almost skeletal. Dark shadows hung below his eyes, and it was not from eyeliner. Schneep held back a sad sigh. Thank goodness he left a snack for Mal when they returned to the evil lair. That part could be solved.

*

Back at Brighton City Square, the show was ready to begin. As city officials made their speeches, two superheroes waited behind a painted brick wall to make an entrance.

The illustrious Brighton Shepherd fixed his mask and combed his dark brown hair back. Beside him was his sidekick: the Red Marauder, clad in red, green, and blue leather. Marauder kept peeking behind the wall.

“Malevolent is safe behind bars as of right now, you can relax, Jackie,” Shepherd said, rubbing his protégé’s back.

“I can’t find Chase!” Marauder whispered back. “I’ve scanned the crowds three times and there’s no sign of his face.”

“Perhaps he’s stuck in traffic?” Shepherd said, smoothing out the creases in Marauder’s blue cape. His sidekick really needed to learn how to take care of himself.

“He would have sent me a text if that had happened,” Marauder said with a sigh.

“Went for a cup of coffee with Anthony?”

Marauder turned to the crowd. “Anthony is currently eating a donut by one of the food vendors. I think Malevolent and the Doctor kidnapped Chase again!” His eyes filled with tears.

The Shepherd sighed and put a hand on Marauder’s shoulder. “Okay, when the mayor does her speech, we’ll do a quick speedrun through town. He can’t be far. Don’t worry, we’ll get him back.”

Marauder nodded, blinking back tears. No time to cry when there’s a battle.

“Shepherd? It’s time,” an employee whispered. The Brighton Shepherd cracked his neck.

“Show time, baby.” He punched the painted brick wall concealing him, creating a perfect hole. “Alright, put your hands in the air!” he yelled to the crowd.

*

The lair lit up as the car entered and parked in its appointed place. Marvin threw the door open and breathed in the familiar smell of the evil, abandoned, Monster Munch snack factory. A long time ago, it smelled of moldy cheese puffs and rat manure, but now it smelled of malevolence, metal, and a whole lot of cologne.

No matter how many times he arrived, the sweet scent always relaxed the supervillain after a hard day in jail or fighting the Shepherd. “Oh Doc, there’s no place like our evil lair!”

“I’ve kept it cold and damp, just the way you like it!” Schneep said, hauling the sleeping Chase out of the car.

A swarm of tiny robots flew over to Marvin, their engines whirring with delight. The model was a small purple circle with four robotic legs that could grip and lift up to 1,000 pounds. Of course, each had cat ears attached to the sides of their heads and a cat tail at the back. The CATs,  Marvin had fondly called them. Their singular glowing yellow eyes in the center of their body looked up at their darling master.

“The CATs have certainly missed you, sir!” Schneep exclaimed.

Marvin bent down to caress their smooth heads. “Did you miss your daddy? Who’s a menacing little android? You are, yes, you are!”

One CAT held up a ball of twine. Marvin grabbed it and tossed it across the lair, the CATs trailing after it.

Two older models of the CATs held up a curtain while two others held up Marvin’s new suit. Marvin gratefully ripped off the ugly bluish-grey prison rags and changed into his white button-up, black dress pants, and sparkly purple vest. A CAT draped his famous black cloak with magenta lining around his shoulders while another handed him his beautiful cat mask with the magician’s card designs drawn on. He happily donned the mask with pride and stepped out.

“How do I look, Doctor? Do I look evil?” Marvin asked, spinning.

“Horrifyingly striking, sir,” Schneep said. He opened a small gate to an elevator platform, “Shall we?”

At the top, Schneep set Chase down on a chair while Marvin checked all the monitors and buttons.

“Everything ready?”

“Of course! I would never leave anything unchecked before a big event!” Schneep said. Beside the doctor, Chase began to stir, grunting and yelling muffled by the bag.

“He’s awake! Quick everyone, places!” Marvin ordered. He jumped onto his chair and motioned a small CAT to lie down in his lap while he fixed his hair once more.

Schneep ripped the bag off of Chase’s head as Marvin twirled his chair around, menacingly stroking the CAT. “Mr. Brody, we meet again.”

“Would it kill you to wash the bag?” Chase complained, “it fucking stinks and the spray bottle is no better!”

“You can scream all you want, Brody, I’m afraid no one can hear you!” Malevolent announced. Chase remained stone-faced.

Marvin frowned. “Why isn’t he screaming?”

Schneep sighed exasperatedly and bent down next to Chase, “Mr. Brody, if you don’t mind-”

“Screaming sounds a lot like this: aaaahhhhh!” Malevolent demonstrated. “I mean, that’s a poor example but-”

The CAT sitting on his lap bit his hand. Malevolent emitted a high-pitched shriek as he tried to shake the little robot off.

“Not to sound like a sadist but it’s more fun when you do it,” Chase deadpanned.

“Very funny,” the Doctor snapped. “You’ll be singing a different tune when the Brighton Shepherd is defeated right before your eyes!”

Ignoring both of them, Chase decided to examine the observatory, the usual spot for Malevolent and Shepherd’s battles. Most of it was the usual, a long control booth circling the room, full of buttons and levers that would release death traps, lasers, and other lame inventions. Above the panel were monitors of different sizes. On one side of the elevator was a broken vending machine where Doctor grabbed his sleeping spray, while on the other side was a strange metal sphere with axes and spikes sticking out of it (Chase asked and even Malevolent had no idea what it was).

“Speaking of watching, do you have your camera set up?” Malevolent asked, finally yanking off the biting CAT.

“Yup! It’s in the pin this time! Anthony helped me set it up!” Chase puffed his chest out to show it off.

Malevolent ran a hand through his thick black hair and twirled around, letting his cape fly in the wind.

“So guys, what’s on the menu for today? Robosheep? Typhoon cheese? A big ball of aluminum that will roll around town?” Chase asked.

Behind his plague doctor mask, Schneeplestein grinned. It was his time to shine! “Actually, we created a cool ray that uses the sun to make explosive lasers, wanna see?!” He excitedly rushed over to the main control booth and began typing in the passcode to turn it on.

Marvin yelped and pulled Schneep away from the booth, “Easy there, Doc, we’ll show it in time!”

“Brody wanted to see it!” Schneep protested. “It’s not like it would hurt, would it?”

“Think, Doctor! He’s using his nosy reporter skills to find out all our secrets!” Malevolent accused, snarling at Chase.

Chase rolled his eyes, chuckling. These two could be quite entertaining. “What secrets?! You’re so predictable!”

“Oh, that’s the insult for today?! Tell me, my dear Brody, would you call this predictable?” Marvin pulled down a lever and the floor around Chase opened up.

“Your alligators, yes!” Chase nodded in greeting to the snapping reptiles. “Yeah, I was just thinking about these guys on the way over!”

Truth be told, Chase was dreaming of riding a large parrot to Disney World while in the car. But Malevolent didn’t need to know that.

Marvin turned back to the panel. How dare Chase see through his armour?! He quickly slammed a button. “What about this?”

A sharp razor painted blood red danced in Chase’s face. “That’s kind of tacky.”

Marvin punched another button and a junky invention of multiple chainsaws attached to the ceiling lowered down. The chainsaws had gotten their chains stuck to each other and could barely move. Chase pretended to contemplate it. “Mm, juvenile.”

Marvin pulled another lever. “What about this?!”

A giant fart gun shot green gas out. Chase gagged. “Gross and immature!”

“What’s this one do?!” A weak fire machine coughed out small bits of fire.

“That’s just sad,” Chase said. He looked up and nearly jumped out of his seat. A small spider floated downwards. “Is the spider new?”

Marvin turned to Schneeplestein, who merely shrugged. When this was all over, Marvin was going to give him a stern talking to about bug extermination in the lair.

“Ah yes, the spe-dair-a,” Marvin whispered as he advanced closer to Chase. “Even the smallest bite from Arachnis Deathicus will instantly paralyze-”

Chase blew the spider onto Marvin’s cheek, causing him to scream again. Schneep punched him hard enough to knock him over.

“GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!!!! IT BIT MEEEEE!!!” Marvin screamed as Schneep continually smacked him with a newspaper. The spider fell off of Marvin’s cheek and began advancing to the control panel.

“STOP IT BEFORE IT DISAPPEARS!” Marvin howled as he crawled away from the disgusting creature.

After five minutes of Marvin’s dramatic wails and crawling and Schneep swearing like a sailor, Chase finally put an end to the spider’s life by stomping on it when it got close enough.

Marvin crawled over to Chase and grovelled at his bound feet. “Thank you, you are a lifesaver!” He suddenly spied the pin. “Is that still on?”

Chase smiled smugly, “I’ll burn the evidence if you let me go and we’ll never speak of it again.”

Marvin stood up, scowling, “Absolutely not! We haven’t even gotten to the fun part! Let’s pay your boyfriend and godfather a visit, shall we?”

*

Back at the town square, the mayor had finished up her rather short speech, “It is with great pleasure that I present Brighton Shepherd to his new museum! When you’re ready!”

Shepherd’s laser eyes cut the rope and the great curtains fell, revealing the giant statue of the superhero. A brass band played loudly over the sound of a cheering crowd.

Jackie applauded happily for his mentor, but couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous. In all fairness, the Shepherd had been around longer than he had, and he was still familiarizing himself with the city.

A sudden chill running up his arms woke Jackie from his thoughts. He looked up and gasped. Dark clouds quickly enveloped the museum. People shrieked in terror as a big, black blimp hovered above the great building, rolling down two large projection screens underneath. Once positioned on each side of the magnificent statue, a small circular robot holding a camera turned the screens on, showing the face of the one to blame for the chaos: the Malevolent.

The Brighton Shepherd and the Red Marauder flew up, Shepherd holding up a microphone.

“If it isn’t the Malevolent!”

“Bravo, Brighton Shepherd! Congratulations on your new museum!” Malevolent drawled, clapping slowly.

The crowd began to boo loudly. Malevolent blew a raspberry at the crowd, “So immature!” he scoffed.

“Should have known you’d try and crash the party!” Shepherd said.

“Oh, I intend to do more than crash it! This will be a historic day you, and Brighton City, will not soon forget!”

“We all know how this ends!” Shepherd said. “With you behind bars!”

“Ooh, I tremble in my kitten-skinned cape,” Malevolent hissed, playfully wrapping himself up in his cape. The cape was actually made from cotton, but the city didn’t need to know that.

“What do you want with us, Mal?” Shepherd demanded.

“First off, don’t call me ‘Mal’,” Malevolent snapped. “Secondly, if you and your tomato sidekick don’t leave town in an hour, then this will be the last you ever hear of Chase Brody!” Malevolent punched a button and the left screen presented the kidnapped Chase tied to a chair.

“I knew it!” Jackie muttered behind his mask.

“Don’t panic Chase! We’re on our way!” Shepherd cried out, earning a cheer from the crowd.

“I’m not panicking!” Chase responded, smiling.

Malevolent pretended to gag. “Oh, please. You have to find us first before you save Chase.”

“We’re at the abandoned observatory!” Chase quickly called out.

Malevolent suddenly turned off Chase’s camera, yelping, “WAIT DON’T TO LISTEN TO HIM-”

It was too late. Shepherd and Marauder were already flying above the dark grey smoke. Shepherd quickly spotted the broken down space observatory near the dangerous part of Brighton City beach and pointed it to Marauder. The two began their flight.

Back at the lair, Schneep watched the superheroes from his monitor. “Shepherd and Marauder approaching, sir!”

Marvin turned to Chase, who shot him a smug grin. Marvin only smiled in return.

“Like we said, you’ll be singing a different tune when you see what we have planned!”

The Shepherd would almost be here. Chase closed his eyes and ducked his head for the inevitable ceiling crash.

Shepherd and Marauder flew through the opening of the observatory and landed. Or rather, Shepherd landed gracefully on his feet while Marauder tripped and fell over. Behind them, the heavy doors slid shut.

Shepherd looked around. The place was quiet and eerily empty. No sound of any cat-bots. No evil laughter from the Malevolent.

“Something’s wrong…” Shepherd muttered. He turned to the doors. Were they locked in?! He ran over to check.

Puzzled, Chase looked up. Where were they?

Malevolent reveled in Brody’s confused expression. He fiddled with the control panel, opening up one of the walls.

“You didn’t think we were in the real observatory… did you?!”

Chase could stare in horror as he spotted the real observatory. He couldn’t believe it. He had led the two superheroes right into a trap.

Malevolent laughed triumphantly. “Ready the Death Ray, Doctor!”

Doctor typed in the passcode and pulled the lever down. “Death Ray ready-ing!”

In the real abandoned observatory, Shepherd and Marauder desperately tried to get the doors open.

“I can’t believe Malevolent actually tricked us! How did he seal the doors?!” Marauder moaned.

“Don’t worry Red, we’ll find a way out,” Shepherd said, smiling.

“Over here, boys,” a voice like ice called out. The superheroes turned to see a large projection of Malevolent smiling down on them.

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve fallen right into my trap!” Malevolent boasted.

The Shepherd motioned Marauder to find an escape before turning to Malevolent. “You can’t trap justice! It’s an idea! A belief!”

“Well sometimes the most heartfelt belief can be corroded over time!” Malevolent responded.

“Justice is a non-corrosive metal!”

“Then I will just melt it with the heat of revenge!”

“FYI, revenge is best served cold!” Shepherd corrected him. From the side, Marauder shook his head. As much as he respected his mentor and feared Malevolent, their “witty back-and-forth banter” was lame.

“It can easily be reheated in the microwave of evil! Don’t doubt me!” Malevolent snarled.

“Well I think your warranty is about to expire!” Shepherd declared.

“Fuck you, I have an extended warranty!” Malevolent retaliated.

“Language, my dear sir! And warranties are invalid if you don’t use the product for its intended purpose!” Shepherd roared.

“OH! Girls, girls, you’re both pretty!” Chase yelled from his seat. He turned to Malevolent, exasperated, “My whole body is sore. Can I just go home now?!”

Malevolent turned around to throw an empty can of Cola at Chase. It bonked off the side of his head.

“You’ll just have to wait, dear Brody! Your beloved superheroes first must prove if they can escape the inevitable power of the sun! Fire!”

Marauder conjured a shield for himself and Shepherd. When the Shepherd made no move to protect himself, Marauder realized nothing was coming. What happened?

Meanwhile, Marvin approached Schneep and the machine. Schneep learned against the panel, snoring softly. Marvin poked him, “Doctor, wake up!”

Schneep startled, “Oh! Sorry!” He turned to the machine, “The machine is still warming up. I expect we have a few more minutes before it fires.”

Marvin’s face turned as red as Marauder’s suit. “Warming up?! The sun is warming up?!”

Chase started laughing, “The sore arms and legs are definitely worth this riot. Just you wait, the Shepherd and Marauder will be on you in min-”

Malevolent tossed another empty can at Chase. Chase immediately shut up. “That’s better.”

“Don’t worry Chase, we’re on our way!” Marauder yelled from the monitor.

Malevolent stomped over to the camera, “Get here faster, I’m this close to throwing his stupid ass off the balcony!”

This caused Marauder to flip. “Hang in there Chase, I’m coming!” He rocketed up to fly out, only to crash into the ceiling and fall back down unceremoniously.

“Marauder, we’ve talked about this! You need to think before you do anything!” Shepherd lightly scolded. “Now, what do we have that can create a hole in the wall?”

“This whole day is a mess…” Doctor muttered from his spot at the panel.

“I’m sorry, whose side are you on?!” Malevolent demanded.

“The losing side!” Chase interjected.

“Everybody shut up,” Malevolent ordered. He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You know what? I need to take a nap. Call me when the ray is ready!”

“The ray is ready!” Doctor announced. In seconds a bright beam of yellow flew down, destroying the observatory in seconds. Fire and burning metal fell out of the demolished observatory, some of it flying directly towards the lair.

Malevolent quickly waved his hands in a circular motion, muttering. A shimmering purple bubble wrapped around Doctor and Chase. As debris rained down, Malevolent deflected them with bursts of purple fireworks. Chase watched in amazement, gaping.

“I keep forgetting he can do magic...” Chase muttered. “He uses so much technology instead.”

Doctor laughed, “Well, he’s not called the Magician for nothing.”

When the commotion calmed down and the debris stopped coming, Marvin twirled around, blowing a stray hair out his eye. The bright glow of the burning observatory behind the magician outlined his epic form. “Did your camera get that, Brody?”

Two more pieces of falling debris gracelessly smashed into Marvin. Chase happily squealed upon seeing the dusty forms of the Brighton Shepherd and the Red Marauder.

“I… should have seen that coming,” Marvin squeaked. “How did you escape so fast?”

“Laser eyes are a wonderful thing!” Marauder answered, giving Marvin a playful wink as he stood up. Marvin stuck his tongue out.

“The gig is up, Mal. We’re taking you back to jail, where you belong!” Shepherd declared. Marvin sighed and slammed his head down on the floor. Naturally, he lost. Again.

Schneep’s distressed cries snapped Marvin back to attention. He turned to his head to see Marauder on top of a struggling Schneep. Schneep’s whimpers and half-sobs were lost on Marauder, who continued tying his wrists behind him.

“Might as well send the Malevolent’s accomplice to jail as well! That way he won’t escape again!” the sidekick reasoned.

Something in Marvin snapped. “NO!” he screamed, startling the Shepherd. With his nemesis off his back, Marvin set his eyes on Brody and magically put the reporter in a choke hold.

Chase gasped raggedly as the air left his lungs.

Marvin whirled around to face Marauder, growling, “Let the doctor go!”

“Get your hands off Chase!” Marauder yelped, staring helplessly at his struggling brother.

“First, free the doctor!” Marvin shouted. He tightened his grip on Chase, lifting him out of the chair.

“Put Chase down!” Marauder roared, eyes glowing red.

Chase wheezed pathetically, black spots darting in his vision. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He let out a strangled sob, tears falling. In all his time with Malevolent… he had never felt so scared.

Jackie’s eyes lost their glow and he loosened his grip on the Doctor. Underneath him, the Doctor moaned in pain.

“Let him go, Red.” Jackie turned to Shepherd in shock. The usually optimistic and brightly-smiling superhero had a grim expression on his face. Jackie spluttered.

“B- but- The Doctor will just free the Malevolent again! We could stop them both once and for all-”

“You heard me. Let him go,” Shepherd ordered. Reluctantly, Jackie stood up and backed away from the Doctor. The shaking man took no time running to the stairs and quickly disappearing.

Marvin waited until Schneep’s footsteps faded away before releasing Chase, gently laying him down. Chase gulped in tearful breaths, his body trembling. Marauder rushed over to free Chase while Shepherd tied the magician’s hands behind him.

The minute his hands were free, Chase threw his arms around Jackie. Jackie gently hugged him.

“Are you okay?” Jackie whispered. Chase nodded, still gasping.

“I’ll take Malevolent to jail,” the Shepherd said. “You get Chase to a hospital!” He took off, Malevolent dangling in his arms. The magician waved goodbye as he and the Shepherd disappeared into the city.

Jackie picked up Chase bridal style and started flying as well.

He kept the flight light and steady to keep Chase from getting sick. Chase buried his head in Jackie’s shoulder for most of the trip, eyes squeezed shut. He hated heights.

As they arrived at the hospital, a medical team waited outside to take Chase in. After the first few kidnappings, a special team offered to dedicate themselves to healing Chase in case he needed it.

“Ja-Jackie?” Chase stuttered. Jackie looked down at his almost unconscious friend.

“Ma-Make sure th-this doesn’t reach An-Anthony, oh-ok?” Chase begged between gasps.

Jackie nodded, confused. “Alright… I won’t tell him.”

*

The cell stunk. No one here ever bothered to put an air freshener in his jail cell, despite Marvin’s numerous polite requests to have it put in. According to the security guards, the Malevolent “could use it as a weapon” or a “gas bomb”. Please.

Marvin sighed as best as he could. As if to enact revenge for strangling Chase, the security staff had clamped an even smaller chain around his neck, making it hard to breathe. Or move. Or do anything. The rest of his body wasn’t much better, with a larger chain wrapped around his waist and movement sensory chains bruising his wrists. If he tried using any magic, the chains on his wrist would shock him. After today, electrocution was the last thing Marvin needed.

Marvin looked up to check the premises. After checking to make sure the guards were gone, Marvin snapped his fingers, careful not to move his wrists too much. Immediately, the chains loosened, allowing Marvin to take a shuddering gasp. He knew the minute he heard the guards coming to check on him, he had to tighten them again, so he took advantage of the situation.

At least the Doctor was free. He wasn’t being made to sit in a stinky, small cell, wrapped in large chains that threatened to strangle him at any moment. He was free to relax after a hard day, planning for the next breakout. For now, Schneep could rest.

Marvin leaned back against his chair, closing his eyes. Schneeplestein would help him escape again. For now, the magician himself will think of another plan to get back at the Brighton Shepherd.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@graysun, @florenceisfalling, @miishae, @lonelyseiren, @goldenoceanaart, @oasisofgalaxies, @fleecal, @kofi-kiing, @myspatialspace, @jo-ann-ahh-2, @huffletrax, @indic0lite, @dumbasticart, @lunaarmada, @meteorshowersfillthesky, @uhhbeans,  @the-pastel-kitsune, @ptide  @climbing-starrs, @the-spawn-of-loki, @jadehowlettthewolf, @obsidiancreates, @rammypaige, @cest-mellow, @randowaffle, @green-protects, @dezi-popp, @badlypostedeverything, @crystalninjaphoenix, @milokno, @pixelpixie-pix, @why-killed-markiplier

[mykaleidoscope365]

Bright Lights

5/19/2022 21:12 If you must have your heart broken, best to do it in New York City. Where better to pick up the pieces of the future you hoped for after they have shattered under the weight of someone else's dreams. Under the bright lights of electronic billboards, shimmering skyscrapers holding up the evening sky, you collect yourself.  Fragment by fragment. Here you wish upon a blinking satellite tower. There are no stars tonight. Only on Broadway. And the curtain has dropped; here comes the intermission of your life. Did you fool anyone in your last act? Devoted partner. Academic accolades. Calculated finances. Entrepreneurial spirit. Ah, but what of the character development? Throw in a little bit of tragedy, mild drama, some loss perhaps. The show must go on. And now here you are. Your greatest love has departed, like a subway train leaving the station. Choosing not to step onto the platform with you, it instead embarks West to greet the fading sun, embracing in a warmth it has almost forgotten. This love is not lost, it has merely run its course. This magnificent elixir, a cocktail of sweet security and forehead kisses, now way past its expiration date. It is bitter.  Your gaze shifts to the hustle and bustle of the city's artery, its streets. An endless parade of mustard colored Taxis, pedestrians jaywalking, litter decorating the sidewalks, pigeons pandering for bread; the chaos is beautiful. The air is magnetic. This city is alive. It breathes purpose into you. You inhale the electricity of the atmosphere. Suddenly there is a bounce in your step. You are nervous, yes, but you are also eager. Change is no longer an unwanted shock but a welcome opportunity. The wind caresses your face, wiping the tears that have not yet fallen. It is a touch you have not felt in a while. The big apple makes false promises to starving artists but is more forgiving to mourning lovers. You have grieved long enough, She seems to say. Indeed, how long has it been? Twenty four weeks. You are in the second trimester of nurturing your soul. A rebirth is coming. In the stories of make-believe, princesses and ivory towers, knights and their sterling armor, wishes and dreams really do come true. But in the city that never sleeps, boasting a sky illuminated by blinking planes and penthouse diamonds, what you put in, is what you get. So get to work.