#half of the streets are lit up. like it’s a busy area because it’s basically right off of the freeway but still

[ilguna]

me when i’m in an unknown place and my two friends are at a reservation that was supposed to end 25 minutes ago and one of them has their phone on silent and the other isn’t responding and i’m 30 minutes away from home sitting at a QT because that’s the only place i felt safe enough to park: 💃

[five-rivers]

Beltane

Written for Ectober 2021 Day 1: Trick vs Treat. This is part of the Exhumed series.

.

Danny Fenton walked into the precinct. As often happened when he did this, all attention slowly turned to him. “Hi, Detective Patterson. Have you ever heard of Beltane?”

Patterson took a long swig of coffee through the plastic stir straw, because she felt the need to be at least a little drugged before dealing with whatever this was, and then said, “Is this the kind of thing the whole precinct needs to know about, or is it more specific to me?”

“Mm, not specific to you, but I’m not sure if everyone needs to know about it, yet.”

Despite only select members of the Amity Park police force knowing Danny Fenton had another identity, he’d become a sort of ‘ghost liaison’ for the precinct. Better him than the adult Fentons, who tended to break things even (especially) when they were being careful.

“Actually,” continued Danny, “you might have already noticed some things about it. I mean, it’s seasonal, and Mom and Dad were detecting ectoenergy and ghost activity spikes for events like this before they got the portal up and running. Although, the portal was supposed to stabilize and reduce those spikes… I guess reducing one isn’t bad?”

“Okay,” said Patterson. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about. Do you want me to go find Collins?”

“Oh, that might be a good idea.”

“Great,” said Patterson. She turned her head to shout across the room. “McGee. Go find Collins.”

“Still the new guy?” asked Danny, sympathetically.

“It isn’t like we’re a popular posting,” said Patterson, “and, thanks to the ghosts, we don’t really need new people.”

Danny nodded placidly. “I know. But it must be hard for him, don’t you think?”

.

McGee had done his job. He’d discovered the corruption in the Amity Park Police Department and plumbed its depths. The problem was that he could never, ever, report it. Even if they didn’t have a perfectly good cause for it all, what they were ‘hiding’ (and they were only barely doing that) was so ridiculous that McGee had thought he’d gone crazy at first.

Ghosts.

The whole of Amity Park was haunted. Just like it said in those touristy brochures at the front of the local diners.

He stuck his head into the break room. “Collins, Patterson and Fenton want you,” he said.

“In the normal room?” Collins asked, shoving a sugary monstrosity of a donut into his mouth.

“I have no idea. She didn’t say.”

“Normal room then. Great job, McGee.”

McGee rolled his eyes. Great job, he said. As if he’d done anything.

God. What would Halloween be like?

.

“So, it’s like, reverse Halloween?” asked Patterson.

“Well, not exactly,” said Danny. He patted Daisy, the department mascot slash corpse sniffing dog who had followed them into the small interview room, gently on the head. “Actually, there are more similarities than differences. Basically, like Halloween, we’re going to get a spike in ectoenergy. Maybe even some ectoplasmic storms. More portals. That kind of thing.” He shrugged. “Most holidays and seasonal divisions have them, you know.”

“So… we’re getting Halloween round two?” asked Collins.

“What do you bet that this is what gets McGee to snap?”

“He’s been here since December,” said Collins. “I think he’s too stubborn to leave.”

“Is he still spying?” asked Danny.

“No,” said Patterson, waving a hand. “He gave up on that, after a while. But there’s a new office bet about whether or not he’ll stay stay, or if he’ll decide to quit. We’re not allowed to join in because we know him too well.”

“Mm,” said Danny.

“I don’t actually know if I feel like I know him that well,” said Collins.

“Well,” said Danny, “it shouldn’t be as extreme as Halloween. Since, I mean, there aren’t as many religious holidays directly associated with death and stuff happening on or around May first. So. Yeah. But the thing is, there are some traditional, er, activities. Spirited activities.”

Collins suppressed a groan, and was glad that Captain Jones wasn’t available today. He and Danny could sling puns at each other for obscenely long periods of time.

“I’ve never noticed ghosts doing anything on May Day,” said Patterson.

“This is only the third year anyone’s even acknowledged that ghosts exist,” said Danny, “so I’m not really all that surprised. But the reason that I came to talk to you guys is that some of the ghosts want to do Beltane stuff. Like the fire blessings. Also, I’ve been told that some of the trees in town are secretly ghost trees, and if we don’t want to deal with another tree army, we need to do some stuff to appease them.”

“Secret ghost trees.”

“My source is very reliable,” said Danny. “Also, while I say ‘we don’t want to deal with it,’ I think we all know who’d be dealing with most of it.”

“You would,” said Patterson.

“Got it in one. Like, I can convince most of the ghosts to either do their Beltane stuff in the Ghost Zone, or somewhere out of the way. They’ll be disappointed, but I can do it. The ghost tree thing, though…”

“Can’t we just, I don’t know,” said Collins, “get rid of the ghost trees?”

“Well, they aren’t really evil ghost trees. Or even really ghost trees. They’re more… ghosts that live in trees?”

“What, like dryads?” asked Collins, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s what I said, but they’re different species, apparently.”

“Okay,” said Patterson, “so. Appeasing the trees. How many trees are we talking about here, and how are we going to appease them?”

.

“Okay, so, this is definitely a whole precinct kind of thing,” said Patterson.

“And possibly an ‘all civil servants’ type of thing,” added Collins. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where are we going to get the funding for this?”

“Oh, don’t worry about money,” said Danny. “I’ll just blackmail Vlad, and if that doesn’t work, I can get Mom and Dad to pay for it.”

“What,” said Collins.

“I think this might be a bit beyond your parents’ budget,” said Patterson, “but knock yourself out as far as Masters goes.”

“Well, I guess if it is,” he allowed, dubiously, “I could get the cults to pitch in?”

.

“This is nice,” said Danny. The sky was a bit overcast, which was a shame, but the hundreds of bright flowers and cheerful music more than made up for that.

The May Day celebration was, in Danny’s opinion, a success. At least, this half of it was turning out to be. He’d have to wait and see how the Spirit Bonfires went tonight before he could really make a judgement.

He’d only had to blackmail Vlad a little, too. It turned out that the ‘ruthless businessman’ in Vlad was ludicrously easy to manipulate, and once Danny brought up how a celebration like this one could revitalize local businesses and bring in tourism, he’d caved.

Although, that might have been the threat of an angry tree army. Vlad had definitely come off worse for wear in the last one, on all fronts.

Then, publically putting the Phantom Stamp of Approval (and Necessity Given The Potential Angry Tree Army) on the event had gotten buy-in from his fans and (sigh) the cults. The cults were, in fact, very enthusiastic about their new Holy Day. Danny had made a map of all the places they’d set up booths, and was studiously avoiding them.

Sam and Tucker were doing a walkthrough of that area, now, to check for problems and unadorned thorn trees. They’d arranged to meet up soon.

So, Amity Park was decked out in ribbons and flowers. All of the schools had gotten Maypoles and the day off of classes. Several bands, both human and ghostly, were playing in different parts of town.

It was chaotic, but great.

Danny briefly cut into the street to dodge a pair of college-age men play-fighting with tree branches (a genuinely important tradition symbolizing the battle between winter and summer), then walked through a wall to avoid two ghosts doing the same thing.

Finally, he reached Madame Babazita’s table.

“Hi,” he said, “three readings, please.”

“Three?” she asked. “Just for you?”

“My friends should get here before mine’s done,” said Danny. Was he channeling some predictive powers? Maybe. Holidays did make his powers weird.

.

“I have no idea what your reading is saying,” said Madame Babazita, after fifteen full minutes. “The cards simply aren’t speaking to me today. Also,” she held up an Uno card, “I’m not sure how this even got here.”

“That’s okay,” said Danny, “I just wanted to make sure it was the same as last time.”

.

“Hey! Phantom!” called Ember across the crowd of ghosts that had gathered in the cemetery. Most of them were fire or nature themed. “You’re in for a treat!”

Danny, who had been examining the flowers left on his grave, looked up. “I am?”

Ember draped her arm around Danny’s shoulder. She’d been a lot more friendly with him since the corpse incident. “Sure are.” She stepped up onto the surface of his memorial, pulling him up behind her. Danny shook off a brief chill and looked around.

Ghosts were streaming into the cemetery from various directions, bringing armfuls of flowers with them. Danny could see two, huge bonfire piles of flowers growing near the cemetery gates.

“Are there going to be cows?” asked Danny, who was still fuzzy on the details of the ghostly side of the celebrations.

“I don’t know,” said Ember. “When I’ve seen this done in the GZ there are. Here? Who knows. Maybe we’ll just walk through.”

Danny nodded, unworried. Beltane sure was an interesting holiday.

The last armful of flowers was placed, and every flower in the cemetery caught on fire at once. Including the ones on Danny’s grave. Danny yelped, jumping into flight. As an ice core ghost, he vastly preferred cold to heat.

This went without saying, but fire was very hot.

Ember grabbed his foot, and he almost kicked her. “You knew that was going to happen,” he accused.

“Sure did, babypop,” said Ember, grinning. “Come on, don’t you want to pass through the bonfires?”

Danny eyed the very large bonfires on either side of the cemetery gates. They were lit up with sparks like fireworks, shifting like flowers blooming and withering and blooming again. They were beautiful and impressive, and Danny felt like melting just by looking at them.

“I don’t know…” He wanted to, but… melting…

“Well, if you want to go out the other way and be horribly unlucky for the next year…”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Is that another trick?” he asked.

Ember’s grin grew wider, and she took off towards the gates. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Danny sighed and followed her.

.

“Unbelievable,” said McGee. “Absolutely unbelievable.” He gave the elderly cultist a boost into the wagon.

“I know, right?” said Patterson. “All this property damage and a low-key kidnapping,” she gestured to the hapless late night partier who had called the police when the cult got too insistent about their message, “and they didn’t even have the good drugs?” She shook her head. “Not that we ever arrest anyone just for drugs in this town.”

“I did not just hear you say that,” muttered McGee.

“We’ll make an Amity Parker out of you yet,” said Collins, heartily, slamming the back door of the wagon. He thumbed the button on his radio. “Any other disturbances?” he asked.

“No, you’re good to come back,” said the dispatcher.

“What I don’t get,” said McGee, leaning against a nearby wall in a moment of weakness, “is why we aren’t breaking up whatever cult thing is happening in the cemetery.” They’d seen it quite clearly on their way here.

“Because those are ghosts,” said Patterson.

McGee took a deep breath. “The ghosts are having some kind of ritual in the cemetery, and you aren’t worried.”

“Not really, no.”

“I hate it here,” said McGee.

“Do you, though?” asked Collins, sounding genuinely interested in the answer.

McGee opened his mouth to snap back that, yes, he did. But…

Hm. Huh.

Collins patted him on the back.

[serene-victory-77]

Sweets Soothe The Heart

Hey, this is my piece for the Grishaverse Reverse Mini Bang 2021, organized of course by @grishaversebigbang! 

I worked with @ciph3rrr, who came up with the idea of exploring a sweet-loving Kaz, and you can see her artwork here on Tumblr or here on Instagram!

Summary: A new hideout entails finding a little comfort and learning more about each other. But it can also highlight how certain parts of other people's lives are still a mystery. Inej goes on a perhaps silly, but genuine, quest to find out what Kaz likes to eat.

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32941690

Fic Under Cut:

When they’d first taken on the new hideout, they’d quickly rolled up their sleeves to make it more habitable, something to enjoy rather than just tolerate. It had been a joint effort (well, Kaz said his contribution was finding the place) to make the series of underground tunnels and rooms nice, but they made it work.

Even freelance robbers needed those little homely touches.

Nina specifically had made it her business to find everyone’s comfort food and fill their “cabinets” (it was crates stacked on each other with the open side facing forward, like large cubbies), going out to find candies, pastries, quick meals, anything to make it feel more like well-off college students rather than a den of thieves lying low.

That made Inej think, because all of them had some comfort food, right? The obvious was waffles, but they all had their individual favorites.

Nearly, that is. They all scratched their heads when it came to Kaz. 

Before the new hideout, Kaz hardly even ate in front of them, never mind indulged in sweets. Whenever they ordered food, he’d ask to get whatever Inej or Jesper ordered, and he never complained. Inej was sure her blueberry waffles weren’t his thing though.

He only drank coffee, hard alcohol, or water. He never seemed to savor or favor any food.

Nina had given up on bothering Kaz, but it stuck with Inej.

She was with him all the time. If anyone would know what Kaz’s favorite food was, it was her, right? But she was just as lost as everyone.

What did Kaz like to eat?

She started watching him whenever food was involved, trying to pick up on his tells. The first time it worked was when Nina said he couldn’t order water from a diner and decided to get him whatever Inej ordered. She picked a chocolate milkshake, and she swore he perked up just a bit.

Inej tried other cold sweets, but nothing caught his attention until Nina said she was getting them all ice cream. Inej was going to ask for a scoop of chocolate, noticed Kaz’s interest pique again because he’d once again chosen to get whatever she was, and got Kerch chocolate and chocolate with brownies.

Later, before anyone had finished their cup, she noticed Kaz had already set his aside, the ice cream gone.

Nina asked her to phone in the waffles that night because she had to help Mathias. Inej considered what she was about to do and figured that they were all eating separately, so it should be fine. 

Kaz opened the box and raised a brow. “This isn’t your usual order?”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Kaz shrugged, but when Inej looked up 10 minutes later, the chocolate chip waffles she’d gotten him were nearly gone. It was surprising, because Kaz usually only ate half his food or forgot it for hours. She smiled.

There were a lot more chocolate treats in the house now, but they kept disappearing. Everyone but Kaz, who never participated in food talk, swore up and down it wasn’t them, but Inej knew. 

Kaz’s favorite thing to eat was chocolate, sweet as can be.

Jesper noticed Inej’s efforts and talked to her about it when the weather turned chilly. He was amused by Kaz’s leanings, but struck gold when he paused and said, “Inej, do you think he’d like hot chocolate?”

Jesper was a genius.

When protection against the cold was put in place and they had wood stoves aplenty, everyone enjoyed the newfound coziness.

“Kaz,” Inej called out near a stove in the kitchen area. “Come here!”

A few seconds later he was in the room, wearing one of the large gray pullovers she and Nina had bought. His limp had been better since they fixed the heating.

“What?” he asked, coming to stand next to her.

“Help me make hot chocolate. Keep an eye on the pot so it doesn’t bubble over,”

He blinked in a manner she could only describe as vaguely doe-eyed and she mentally thanked Jesper. “We have hot chocolate?”

She nodded, smiling up at him, and he turned his face away a bit, a smile playing on his lips.

The relocation had done a lot for her and Kaz, simply because he was a lot more relaxed. Guarded still, but with a new sense of domesticity. It helped that he basically let her do whatever she wanted, even in his space.

Plus he had definitely noticed her trying to make eating actually enjoyable and was trying to be helpful about it. He asked her how she was every morning, and if there was anything she requested or mildly implied was wrong, he’d acquire it or fix whatever she needed. It was nice.

Inej set out the ingredients and toppings as the milk heated, which he kept an eye on. She handed him the chocolate to add as he saw fit, and immediately half the bar was in the pot.

He noticed the whipped cream and his expression lit up. “We have whip cream?”

“You like it?” she asked.

There was a small pause before he nodded. “It was always my favorite, hot chocolate with whip cream.

Finally, an admission.

“That sounds nice,” Inej said. “So you’ll have yours with whip cream. We have large mugs, you’ll be able to put a lot on top,”

Kaz hummed. “How do you take your hot chocolate?”

“I like adding cinnamon,”

He chuckled. “You love cinnamon,”

“What do you mean?”

“You get cinnamon in everything. Cinnamon rolls, churros, in your coffee, you add it to the batter when you make pancakes,” Kaz said, stirring as she added sugar to the pot. “Like how you add extra pepper to everything,”

She didn’t hide her smile. “Paying attention?”

“It’s only fair,”

“I suppose,” she said, softly knocking against his arm. He didn’t move away, just glanced at her, mildly amused.

Later, to check the taste, she brought a small spoonful to Kaz’s mouth. He obliged her, albeit surprised. His eyes lit up in a way he couldn’t hide at the taste. It was officially Kaz Brekker Approved.

When the toppings were set in the den for everyone to pick from, the giant mountain of whip cream already on Kaz’s mug didn’t go unnoticed. Matthias raised a confused brow but slowly pushed the whip cream bottle closer to Kaz, to everyone’s amusement.

Wylan mostly just appreciated that Kaz managed to get the mountain so tall.

Kaz seemed to be paying Inej back in his own way, like buying her two new knives and making an effort to get the food he liked himself so she was no longer organizing it as much. In addition, if she asked him to accompany her out, he’d nod, fix them up with warm drinks to take with them, and head out alongside her. She appreciated it.

She’d read once that sweets soothe the heart. Apparently, sweets soothed Kaz’s prickly temper and made him more amicable to suggestions. 

They were walking around the town after finishing casing an art gallery when she spotted a notice on a newly opened cafe. Kaz paused when he realized she wasn’t matching his step because she’d taken out her phone to take a picture of the information that had caught her eye.

“What was that about?” he asked as she caught up.

“Oh, I just saw something Nina might know about. I go to her with questions about food usually,” Inej explained.

Kaz seemed fine with that and they went on their way.

The owners of this establishment, Harrie and Mert Stokker, are certified winners in the National Kerch Baking Competition. Particularly renowned are their pies, their brownies, and their Triple Chocolate Threat cake.

At first, she didn't know what to do with the information. It would have been simple to just buy some pastries and take them to the bunker, but she wanted to do more.

But what?

Then Kaz said that a nice Suli restaurant had opened a town over, which was a shock, and asked if she wanted to eat there with him. She’d agreed, overjoyed at the rare opportunity, and he’d reserved them a table.

Then it clicked. But how could she reserve a cafe? Especially at a newly opened one with famous owners when they were supposed to be laying low?

The next morning she was at the cake asking Mr. and Mr.s Stokker for a favor.

“I tend not to complain about early starts,” Kaz started, blinking up at the still gray skies. “But it’s freezing, and you don’t usually head out this early. Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, and her scarf slipped. Kaz paused to adjust it over her mouth and nose again, and she smiled although he couldn’t see it. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise,”

He raised a brow but trusted her as she led them down the quaint street.

When they reached the cafe, Inej knocked on the door.

A few seconds later it opened, and they were ushered in by Mrs. Stokker.

“Hello!” She greeted cheerfully. “You must be Asha’s companion. Mikka, was it? I’m Harrie Stokker, and this is my husband, Mert,”

Kaz glanced at Inej, noting the fake names she’d given. 

He smiled all the same and shook their hands, his gloved. “Yes, it’s Mikka. It’s a pleasure to meet you, but I don’t know why I’m here,”

The Stokkers smiled and nodded at Inej to explain.

“Nearly two months ago I noticed this place was opening and when I saw the information, it said they had really good chocolate cake,” Inej explained. “We’re busy and you don’t like crowds, and there was no way this place wasn’t going to be full every day. I wanted you to be able to eat here though, so I stopped by and did a few favors for them, and they agreed to let us come in extra early this morning, and even push back their opening hours today,”

Kaz turned from the Stokkers to her, incredulous. “Two months? I should have noticed,”

“It was always early, so you’d have just headed to bed. And it was only a few days overall,” she explained.

Kaz shook his head slowly. “In—Asha. You didn’t have to,”

Inej sighed. “You’ve only recently started eating things that are actually good, and your favorite is chocolate. They Stokkers are incredible bakers, and this seemed like a great opportunity,”

“Asha said that you’ve hardly eaten anything sweet in years,” Mr. Stokker shook his head. “And that you’ve never had much of a chance to eat good baking before. It was a shame, so we agreed to this. We’re hoping we can rekindle your love for eating. Chocolate is the best for mood and temper, and any baker with a heart will tell you that cake is a way of life. We had to help,”

Kaz was clearly trying to keep a straight face, and Inej could relate. The Stokkers talked about baking like it was their religion, passionate and oddly deep.

They’re given a table by a window that caught the first few rays of pale sunlight, and they shed their extra layers in the comfort of the warm cafe.

“You somehow managed to get an empty cafe,” Kaz noted, impressed. “Have I ever told you that you’re a wonder?”

“A few times, but it’s nice to hear,” Inej smiled. “They have drinks too. I’ve heard their hot chocolate is amazing,”

Kaz smiled, then leaned back in his chair. “Tell me, why are you so determined? It’s kind, but you truly didn’t have to.

Inej fidgeted but her sleeve. “At first I just wanted you to participate in the comfort food thing. Then I was confused, because I’ve known you for years, and somehow I didn’t know what you liked to eat? I had hunches, but nothing concrete. Then I noticed you liked chocolate and sweets, and I thought, alright, this works. I was happy that you actually seemed to enjoy eating, rather than just doing it because you have to,” she admitted. “Plus, you light up when you have chocolate,”

“I do not,”

“You do,”

Kaz crossed his arms, but there was no bite in the action. He tried to stay straight-faced, but Inej had always been good at making him smile.

After a moment, she added, “And you’re a lot less snappy after you’ve had chocolate,”

Kaz rolled his eyes but knew she was right.

“I didn’t think it needed to change,” he said. “But you were right when you said it wasn’t going to make me less prepared in the future to relax and participate. And…”

“Hm?”

He shrugged, a tad defensive. “You’re happier, whenever I participate. So it’s worth it for that,”

She’s saved from having to react with anything more than a blush by Mrs. Stokker setting down their drinks, which Inej had specified the day before. Of course, Kaz got a large mug of hot chocolate with whip cream.

Inej’s own mug had cinnamon and she enjoyed the smell as she watched Kaz use a spoon to drink his because he didn’t want to ruin the whipped cream too quickly.

A few minutes later they had actual breakfast food to Kaz’s confusion.

“Before sweets, normal food,” Inej said, relieved that Kaz easily ate the bagel with cream cheese and chopped up melon with ease as she’d expected.

The sunrise had truly begun then, and he was bathed in warm light by the time they got to the cake.

It really was chocolate on more chocolate, and Kaz looked startled by it. Still, he took off the pointed edge of the large slice and tried it.

A few seconds later he put the fork down.

“I think I’m kicking out Matthias and replacing him with this cake,” he said mildly. “You asked if I had a god. This is it. I believe in this cake,”

Of course, Kaz would turn his shock into snark.

Still, she was happy.

“Have you tried it?” Kaz asked.

“No,” Inej admitted. “I wanted to wait until you did,”

Kaz urged her to eat her slice.

She tried a bite.

It was perfect. Not heavy, nor too light, strong but not overbearing. It left her wanting to take another bite immediately, and she did, marveling at Kaz’s restraint

“It’s so good,” Inej said, swallowing. “Saints. Nina’s going to kill us for not sharing,”

“At least we ate it before dying,” Kaz said, finally continuing to eat. “You two wanted to know my favorite food? This. Everything should just be this,”

He seemed proud when Inej laughed.

The rest of the time was relatively calm.

Maybe it had been silly for her to fixate on finding food Kaz liked, but finding herself on what was essentially a breakfast date with Kaz made it hard to regret. Plus, she’d learned that Kaz paid attention to her likes as well. And she wouldn’t give back the hours they’d spent eating dinner in his room alone, either.

He had a small, happy smile as he ate. When he looked up at her, the warmth in his coffee eyes startled her.

She sat back and basked in it.

[artaefact]

bakery 1995.

—wordcount: 14.7k+

—genre: angst, fluff, romance, baker!jimin, bakery cafe au, childhood friends-to-lovers au

—pairing: park jimin x f reader ft. bestfriend!jungkook

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: age gap (jimin is 4-5 years older), brief mention of physical assault, memory loss, overprotective parents, some intended grammatical mistakes, swearings, y/n is dragged into jungkook’s shenanigans

—summary: After returning from college for summer break, you got yourself a part time job to keep yourself busy. However, things go way too unexpectedly and you find yourself unraveling your forgotten past.

author’s note: this is for @btswritingcafe promptly yours event !! i tweaked the prompt a bit, so hopefully no one would get confused! happy reading ♡

Prompt: “Person A once had a major childhood crush on Person B. Fast forward to college where Person A is convinced it was nothing but temporary, that is until they return home for summer break to find Person B back after being gone for several years. Turns out, they weren’t such temporary feelings.”

© artaefact/eunoiabliss 2020. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is NOT permitted.

It’s nice to know that no matter how judgemental the world can be, pigeons would never judge you. Despite the clear contrast between yourself and the asphalt pathway, they would not hesitate to excrete waste on either of them and can’t even be bothered by the possible consequences.

Staring at the dropping on your jacket sleeve, you exhale loudly while rummaging your pocket for a kleenex.

‘Out of all the places where their shit could have landed on, it had to be MY jacket,’ you grumble to yourself.

Reaching towards the bakery in the area, you hope they still have some cinnamon rolls you have been craving for. You can already imagine yourself humming in delight as the sweetness spreads across your taste buds and—

“You have got to be kidding me.”

The cashier attendee bows apologetically at you. “We’re so sorry, all the cinnamon rolls are sold out for today.”

Today must be the worst day to date in your entire years of existence. How on earth can a bakery run out of cinnamon rolls?

Groaning internally, you trudge out of the, now, third bakery that has sold out their cinnamon rolls.

Bad luck seems to follow you throughout the day. Is it because you went out of the house while your parents were in the middle of nagging you? For the last few days after you came back home for summer break, they have been constantly nagging you and you would kill to have an hour of peace and quiet.

Mindlessly, you whip up your phone and search up on Google while you walk to the nearby bus station, typing in the search bar — is it bad luck if a bird pooped on you?

Biting your lower lip, you press on the first link that appears on the screen.

Bird poop may be a sign of hope in disguise, you read. Snorting in incredulity, you scroll through the webpage.

It can’t be good luck.

You are not the type to believe in superstitions, however, besides getting pooped on, you dropped your phone on the pavement of the sidewalk just before you reached the first bakery, an hour ago. This resulted in the annoying crack of the screen right in the middle of it. Not only that, the sole of your right tennis shoes came off halfway which hindered you from walking properly and made you look like someone who hurt their leg.

Having had enough for today, you decide to go back home. Until a pastel pink store, right across the street, catches your attention with its aesthetic-looking door.

What’s this? A new—

A dramatic gasp escapes your lips after reading the name of the store, earning confused stares from nearby people. But you couldn’t care less.

Maybe Lady Luck does still care about you.

As soon as the pedestrian light turns green, you excitedly run, no, shuffle through the zebra-cross, reaching the newly-opened bakery.

My last hope is here. Please, let there be—

The interior of the bakery exudes a welcoming vibe, with the color of pale pink being the dominant over the whole place. Basically, it's a place where those Instagram models would kill to take their pictures at. However, it’s not the interior itself that your focus locks on. When the smell of freshly baked goods wafts into your nose, your eyes zero themselves on the various types of pastries that line the display counter, covered in glass domes. And there it is.

“Yes!” You squeal, grabbing the bakery tray to fill it as much as you’d like.

When you place the filled tray in the cash register counter, the cashier comments, “Woah, that’s a lot.”

If it is a normal day, you would have waved it off. However, unfortunately for the guy, it isn’t a normal day for you, after the constant annoying incidents that happened to you earlier. The comment snaps the last thread of patience you have for the day and sadly, targets the person in front of you. “I think you should mind your own—”

You take your thoughts back. Lady Luck is not on your side nor is the universe. They must be having fun, playing pranks on you so much today.

Your words cease immediately at his sheepish yet attractive smile.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Just having a really bad day and I—”

“No! That’s okay.” The guy grins at you, eyes turning into crescent moons. “I’m the one who should be sorry, I just said the first thing that came up in my mind.”

“Ah...”

“I suck at starting conversations,” he says, sheepishly. “It’s a skill I’m planning to improve.”

Blinking twice, you manage to smile back at him, most probably just a cringed expression. “Well, um, good luck with that.”

As soon as he hands you the paper bag, you dash out of the bakery, not once looking back.

Your cheeks feel hot during the whole trip back home, every time you remember what happened, you would mentally kick yourself.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Eating the warm cinnamon rolls is a blessing and a curse.

You have never tasted such heavenly flavour before, all your worries and exhaustion seem to fade away. This brings you to freeze in the realisation that you’ll want, no, need to go back to that bakery to buy those delicious rolls again. Meaning, you’ll see that cute guy whom you snapped at earlier, again.

His friendly eye-smile burns deep in your mind. But you can’t shrug off the sense of familiarity of his face and his voice…

Have I met him before?

Once you reach home, body aching and tired, you take a quick shower before digging into the rolls. Clicking your tongue, you continue to munch on the rolls in your room while your thoughts pull you in deep.

The sudden knock on your door, however, brings you back to the present. Groaning loudly, you stand up from your padded window seat.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Jungkook.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Your mouth agape at the sudden visit from your best friend. “Didn’t you say you won’t see me at all until break is over?”

“I might have changed my mind. I was very bored at home.” He enters your room, plopping on your beanbag. “So, now I am bored as hell and— Did you buy food without telling me?”

You met him during freshman year and you both hit it off quite quickly, you might add. After constantly pairing up together in projects, college project meetups gradually turned into hangouts.

“Says the one who claims to see my face every day makes him sick.” You roll your eyes at his dramatic ass, you go back to the window seat, crossing your legs. “It wasn’t planned, okay? I just got back home like thirty minutes ago.”

“But still you nearly finished everything without leaving me much!” He bit your last half-finished roll, letting out a noise of approval. “Which bakery did you buy it from?”

“It’s a new one. I never saw it before we went to college.”

“You should bring me there soon.”

“Nu-uh,” you refuse. “You can go yourself. I am not stepping a foot inside that place any longer.”

“What? Why not?”

“I may have embarrassed myself in front of the worker there.” Then you tell him what happened earlier.

Jungkook shakes his head in pity. “My poor Y/N, how do you always embarrass yourself when I’m not around? How would you survive in this world without me?”

Snorting at his words, you lean against the pillows on your back. “You’re the lucky one to have someone like me as his best friend. Anyways, how about that job I’m looking for?”

“Oh!” Jungkook’s eyes lit up. “Right, I was about to tell you! My friend is looking for a part-timer for his cafe.”

“Hmm, that sounds…”

Jungkook answers, “Boring? I know you’re looking for something much more exciting and—”

Narrowing your stare at Jungkook’s obvious judgmental face, you cut him off. “It sounds perfect, actually.”

Sighing, Jungkook whips up his phone. “You better bring me leftovers every time you get off work. I’ll bring you to his cafe tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“What? Why?”

“You little shit—” You smack his arm.

“Ow! Stop that, woman! I thought you said—”

“This is a fucking bakery, dumbass!” You hiss at him.

Jungkook gapes at you. “It’s a bakery cafe, what’s the difference?”

“It’s different! I can’t go back in there!” You whine in embarrassment.

“Wait— So this is the bakery where you embarrassed yourself?”

Nodding wordlessly, you exhale before catching Jungkook failing to stifle his laughter. “Shouldn’t be too big of a problem. He’s nice, Y/N.”

“But—”

“And I told him you were coming…” Jungkook scratches the back of his head.

After contemplating for a while, you decided to gather your courage and enter the sweet-smelling bakery with Jungkook.

Too late to go back now. It was either this or staying bored at home for the rest of the summer break, facing your parents’ look of disapproval at your lack of daily activities, or to be more exact productivity.

The cute guy just finished placing cakes inside the glass displays on the counter, then his gaze shifts to where you and Jungkook are standing.

“Jungkook!” The cute guy’s brown hair is slicked back as he takes off his baker’s hat, approaching your best friend.

“It’s been so long, Hyung!” Jungkook greets back with a hug, smiling from ear to ear. “And wow—” His eyes skim through the pastel-themed cafe. “You finally opened your own cafe.”

Watching them interacting is a foreign sight to you. It’s a rare right to see Jungkook, the usually shy one, so friendly and comfortable around the cute guy.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe the cute guy won’t remember you and—

“Ah! Miss Cinnamon Rolls!”

Scratch that. Of course, he still remembers you.

“I didn’t know you were looking for a job.” His eye smile lands on you finally and your throat dries up.

Jungkook fails to hold back his laughter. “Miss Cinnamon Rolls? Just how much did you buy last time?”

After sending a brief glare at your best friend, you introduce yourself to the cute guy, “Y/N.”

As soon as your name slips past your lips, the cute guy freezes momentarily, eyes widening a fraction. “Y/N?”

You nod slowly.

“Uh,” He fumbles. “Jimin. Park Jimin.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“So, this is the kitchen area. We need to get the place ready by 8:30. Can you come by at 6 the latest?”

You nod at his question.

“We have a different menu each day. It will take some time for you to learn everything. But don’t worry I’ll teach everything you need to know.” He shoots you a smile, sending your heart to slightly flutter as you fiddle with your fingers.

Thank goodness Jungkook has left. Or else you’d never hear the end of his teasing or knowing smirk.

“I’m starting with bread and cakes these past few days before I open up the cafe section.”

For the rest of the day, Jimin spends his time letting you know everything about how the bakery runs whenever there are no customers. Even gracing you with two pieces of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls which made your cheeks burn in embarrassment at the memory of your first encounter.

“Go ahead, enjoy it,” Jimin shoots you a knowing grin.

Muttering a quiet ‘okay’, you take the first bite — holding a delighted groan at the sweetness that bursts through your tastebuds.

Propping his chin on his hand, he stares at you in amusement. “You must really like cinnamon rolls, huh?”

“They’re my comfort food,” you admit after swallowing down a piece. “My late grandmother used to make a lot of rolls at home.”

“I see… Well, have you ever baked before, Y/N?”

“The basic stuff like chocolate chip cookies…”

“Oh, that’s great—”

You added quickly, “But I nearly burned down Jungkook’s kitchen, though. He banned me from the kitchen ever since.”

A surprised laugh escapes the man’s lips which you don’t mind hearing more often, especially if you are the one behind it.

“At least the cookies still turned out great. It was a bit on the burnt side but still good… Crispy and crunchy.” You nervously chuckle. “But I swear, I’m not that bad if you provide a clear recipe!”

Still giggling, Jimin leans forward on his seat. “I can teach you everything you need to know. The basic stuff on baking and then there would be clear recipes I can provide you.”

Your eyes lighten up at that. “Yes! I’ll try my best.”

Arriving at the bakery at 6 am sharp, the next day — your official first day at work — Jimin can be seen moving back and forth from the small window opening connecting the kitchen and the bakery itself, already busy in the kitchen.

The smell of his work wafts through the entire bakery, indicating that he has been there for quite some time. Once you enter the kitchen, your mouth waters instinctively at the smell and sight of freshly-baked breads on the counter.

“How can I help?” From observing the finished baked goods, your eyes shift curiously at some ingredients — eggs, chocolate chips, sugar, flour — on the kitchen counter while you tighten the knot of your apron.

“You’re going to bake some chocolate chip cookies.” Jimin places a tray full of another different set of bread near the first one through the window. “So, go ahead, preheat the oven first.”

Following his instruction, you move towards one of the ovens. “Um…”

The corner of his lips quirks up at your obvious confusion before he chimes on how hot the oven should be set on.

With a brief nod, you turn on the oven. “Is this a test to see how far my baking skills go?” When you take a glimpse of the honey-haired man, he returns it with an amused grin of his own.

“Bingo.” Jimin’s smile is boyish and carefree and his eyes become crescent moons.

In other words, it made your heart race. However, you dismiss such unprofessional thoughts quickly before blood rises to your cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you move to the counter and start mixing the necessary ingredients altogether and set the dough on the baking tray. When the oven is preheated, you bring the tray towards it only to realise your mistake too late: not opening the oven first.

“Let me help,” Jimin says softly, opening the oven deftly.

“T-Thanks...” you mumble, concentrating on the task at hand.

Time passes quickly, before you know it, the oven makes a soft ‘ting’ sound. Opening it, the sweet smell wafts through the kitchen.

“I did it!” you say, excitedly placing the hot tray on the marble counter.

“But the final test is how the cookies taste.”

You watch in nervous anticipation as Jimin pops one of the cookies into his mouth. Not a moment later, he lets out a surprised sound.

“This is really good, Y/N. You do have the talent to bake.”

You beam at his words.

“Since that’s all set, I believe we still have other kinds of pastries to prepare for the day. I have all the recipes prepared for you here.” He motions to the notebook on the counter — you flip through it, astonished at all the recipes.

“Are these your own personalised recipes?”

Nodding, Jimin shoots you a grin. “I’ve always loved baking and there are some ways to make things with their own unique taste.”

The rest of the upcoming hour, you and Jimin were busy baking with Jimin instructing and giving you pointers. At some point, you even talked about anything and everything, as if you both have known each other all your life while you both work.

You have to admit, you find it really enjoyable. When the bakery closes, you sit quietly on one of the empty tables near the cashier after Jimin tells you to wait.

Mindlessly flipping through his recipe notebook, your attention soon shifts to Jimin himself with a steaming cup in his hold.

“Here.” He sets the cup in front of you.

You look at him quizzically before he motions for you to try.

“I’m opening the cafe part next week,” Jimin says. “Thought you can be the first to judge my caramel macchiato.”

“That’s a lot of caramel in one drink…” For a few moments, you observe the steaming coffee, froth decorates the top of it with drizzles of caramel in patterns of criss-cross nearly covering most of the foam itself. “Why caramel macchiato, though?”

“I thought you’d—” He clears his throat. “So many people really love caramel macchiato. So, I thought I’d go with this one for you to try first.”

Bringing the cup carefully to your lips, you take a sip of the beverage. The texture of the coffee is so smooth and the slight bitterness spreads through your taste buds and down your throat. Then you taste the caramel, letting out a delighted surprise when you find caramel bits inside the beverage.

Jimin keeps his stare on you, one hand supporting his chin and his eyes unreadable.

“What is it?” You ask, after downing the drink.

He blinks as if he was lost in his own thoughts. “Uh, how is it?”

“It’s very good.”

“Do you like coffee?” He asks.

Nodding, you tell him you loved to steal your mom’s coffee when you were younger. “There used to be a cafe near my place. I used to go there frequently during my high school years.”

Jimin briefly stills at yours words. “Do you... Still go there?”

You shake your head. “It was closed two years ago unfortunately.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame. I would’ve wanted to try the coffee there.”

Chuckling at his words, your mind takes you back to your high school days. “It was really good.”

Humming to yourself, you continue to flip through the pages of Jimin’s recipe notebook. “What’s this?” You stop at one page, pointing at a child’s drawing on his recipe notebook. “Did you draw it when you were younger?”

“It’s a shooting star.” Jimin answers. “And, no. I didn’t.”

“Oh? Sister? Brother?”

“I don’t have a sister and my brother just does not have the artistic skill to draw that,” he laughs. “It was someone from my past. Someone who is precious to me.”

“Oh…” Noticing his faraway gaze on the notebook, you sense it is a sensitive topic. “Why a shooting star though?”

“It represents hopes and wishes, according to her.” His smile turns nostalgic. “I was having a hard time back then. But this girl,” he chuckles as if in disbelief. “— just straight up grabbed my notebook and drew a shooting star on it, saying I should wish on this star since seeing a shooting star is not that common here.”

There’s something sad but warm in Jimin’s tone as he talks about this girl. You can only assume that this girl is not in his life anymore. Or even in this world.

“I see…”

“As ridiculous as it sounds, I actually did it. Very frequently in all honesty. Whenever I’m having a hard time, I’d wish upon that star.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

A week passes quickly and just like a normal day, you arrive back home just a quarter past eight. Tugging off your shoes near the doorway, you hear your dad calling from the living room.

“Yes?” Mindlessly, you step into the living room only to meet the stern glare from him.

“Where were you?” Your dad asks. “Do you have any idea what time it is now?”

“It’s around eight...”

“And your curfew?”

Furrowing your brows, you gape, “I thought that was back in high school.”

“That still applies until now. I expect you to come back before seven.” Then he repeats his question, “Where were you?”

“From my new part-time place.” You answer. “I thought I told you about it.”

“If you want a job, you can intern in the company for the summer,” your dad sighs. “There’s no need for part-time jobs.”

You should have known it would last just three days before you are missing your university life, or to be more specific living alone. With the constant nagging from your parents, you crave for silence for a period of time. One thing you have been missing quite badly you have to admit, which is why you took the job in the bakery. Away from the scrutinising stares of your parents.

Here it goes again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to start there, Dad,” you exhale. “I want to do other things while I can.”

The same topic, the same debate you’d try to avoid as much as possible ever since you arrived back home for the summer. That was why you’d try to find something else to do. You always wanted to try a new hobby over the holidays. Now, with the excess amount of time in your hands, you are able to try.

That is why you opt for the part time job Jungkook found — working in the bakery.

“This isn’t going to work if you get home after your curfew, Y/N. You know how dangerous it is if you come home late.”

“I’m an adult now,” you reply, exasperatedly. “I can take care—”

“Things can get unpredictable, Y/N. It’s better that you’re safe than sorry.”

“Dad, when will you stop reminding me of that?” You groan in annoyance. “I don’t even remember how the accident happened.”

“The more reason for you to be cautious!”

Exasperated, you storm up to your room and carelessly throw your bag on the side of your bed. Laying on your back, you stare at the ceiling as your thoughts muddle when you try to think of what happened.

All you remember back then is that you woke up in the hospital, met with the worried gaze of your parents as soon as you got your consciousness back. However, they never tell or fill you in on what happened.

Gradually, your eyelids grow heavier — exhausted from the day and the burst of negative emotions over the argument you had earlier. Thus, you succumb to sleep. However, your mind takes you elsewhere.

Everything is dark.

With your own ragged breathing, you struggle to keep yourself as quiet as possible, biting down a hiss from the sting of your scraped knees. Tears pool in your eyes as you wait, hidden behind one of the playground’s slides and out of sight of any possible passerby.

There are no memories of what happened beforehand. All you know is to stay there and wait.

“Y/N?”

Peeking out of your hiding place, the figure draws closer calling your name in another hushed whisper.

But you knew this voice. So, you whispered back, “Here...” As soon as you get out of your hiding place, a warm embrace envelops your small frame.

“We’re okay, everything’s okay. I’ve lost them. We’re safe now,” he whispers, stroking your head softly while your fists clench on his shirt.

Not a moment later, your tears start to fall and you sob into his shirt. He tightens his hold on you, one hand on the back of your head as he repeatedly whispers, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“I’m here...” His voice then seems to echo and your surrounding becomes a blur.

When you open your eyes, you realise you’re back in your room yet there are stray tears in your eyes. Sitting up on your bed, you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

Was that a memory…?

“Have a good day.” You bid the last customer of the day farewell and once they leave, your cheeks droop into a frown. With a sigh, you walk out of the cashier register place towards the front door, turning the ‘Open’ plate to ‘Close’.

The dream you had last night still felt so vivid that you considered it was a flashback of your memory loss. You wanted to ask your parents about it. However, yesterday’s conflict was still fresh. You were sure they would dismiss it.

After cleaning up the counters of the bakery café and mopping the floors, you trudge into the break room, sitting down on one of its chairs as you wait for Jimin’s return from his “errand”.

Your mind takes you back to the dream where someone was hugging you tight.

Who was it? you wonder. In the back of your mind, somehow you never felt his warmth among your high school friends. The guy who was holding you is just different.

You are so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t realise Jimin entering until he brings something right in front of your face. “What—”

“Hot chocolate,” he answers, softly. “You seem distracted today, I thought this might cheer you up.”

Taking the steaming cup from him, you mutter your thanks before breathing in the sweet smell, blowing softly on the beverage. “That was fast.”

“Hmm?”

“Wait, did you go out to buy this?” You lift the warm cup of hot chocolate.

Jimin lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “I wanted to make you one. Until I realised that the ingredients are finished. So, I had to run out.”

“You didn’t have to, you know…”

“I know. But I wanted to anyway.”

Your eyes look down, can’t help feeling touched by his sweet gesture as you fight back to keep yourself from blushing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He must have noticed the change of your expression before he says quickly, “Only if you’re comfortable, of course! I just thought talking about what’s on your mind can ease you. At least a bit.”

Blinking your eyes twice, a chuckle escapes your lips. “I guess so.”

“That’s your first smile today.”

You raise a brow at him.

“Your first real smile, I mean. Your cheekbones do not have much tension if you’re genuinely happy whereas if you fake a smile, it seems more like you’re cringing. Like our first encounter.” He chuckles, meaningfully.

“I’m sorry...” you mumble, eyes glancing down at the steaming hot chocolate on your lap.

“That’s fine,” he says easily. “Everyone has their bad days.”

You smile slightly at his words. “Had a fight with my parents last night.”

Jimin stays quiet, still listening to you.

“They are always so protective when it comes to me. Maybe a bit too much at times. I’m a grown adult for fuck’s sake.” Another sigh escapes your lips before taking a sip of the hot chocolate. “My dad especially. He made it sound like a big deal when I came home around eight. I’m just frustrated at this.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

You nod in response.

“Was there something that made your dad feel that way?”

“I...” You blink. “I guess it’s because that one time I ended up in the hospital?”

“You did?”

You nod. “A few years ago, I had an accident.”

Jimin stiffens at your words. “Oh?”

“But it was nothing. I didn’t even remember what happened in all honesty.”

He stutters, “W-What?”

“I lost my memories. I had no recall of the accident at all.” Eyes training blankly on your front, focusing on nothing as you dive back into your memories. “My parents told me there is nothing to worry about and my memories would come back gradually. They never filled me in on what happened too.”

The corner of his lips soon quirks up slightly, his expression wistful. “Maybe they wouldn’t want you to be traumatised by what happened. It’s already fortunate enough for you to be able to recover from your head injury.”

“Yeah... I guess so,” you mumble.

However, since that incident you can’t deny the feeling of something missing since a chunk of your life has been cut off. No memories of the accident have returned even after years. Recovering from the head injury—

“Wait—” Head snapping to face Jimin. “How did you know I had a head injury?”

Jimin blinks repeatedly, as if your words just sink in. “Ah! I mean isn’t it a head injury? You lost your memories after all.” An awkward laugh escapes his lips. “Usually, people who lost their memories have head injuries, right?”

“Well, yeah...”

“Anyways, finish the hot chocolate and you should head home before your parents—”

Suddenly, a wave of deja vu washes over you. Snapping your gaze from the hot chocolate in your hands, you look at Jimin as your brain starts to grow fuzzy at the familiarity of Jimin’s words.

“Jimin...” you begin.

“Huh?”

“Have we ever met before I started working here?”

“You mean the first time you came into this bakery?”

You shake your head. “No, even before that. Did we know each other?”

A surprised glint appears in his eyes before it dissipates as quick as it appears. “I don’t think so…?”

Oh.

“Maybe we’ve just ran into each other at some point in town. But I don’t think we ever knew each other.”

“I see...” Disappointment floods through you at his words.

Right, you thought to yourself. If he was a close friend he would have recognised you instantly when you came to his bakery.

“Oh, look at the time.” Jimin stands up. “You need to be home before dark, right?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. You’ve finished cleaning today. I just need to close up and check the supplies.”

“But—” Your words die in your throat when Jimin pats your head.

“You’ve worked hard today,” he grins at you.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“I’m home,” you call out to no one in particular before you hear your mother from the kitchen.

Once you reach the kitchen, your mother turns her head to see you. “Help me set the table, dinner’s almost ready.”

Nodding, you follow suit. “Where’s Dad?”

“Your father is still caught in a meeting. He’ll be home late.”

“I see,” you mutter, placing the silverwares on the table.

“How’s work?” your mother asks. “You’re home earlier than usual.”

“It’s great,” you answer. “The boss lets me off early.”

And you continue to talk about your day. From helping Jimin bake cakes and bread early in the morning, serving customers coffee and desserts, cleaning up the whole place, and enjoying the hot chocolate Jimin bought you earlier.

“He sounds like a nice guy,” your mom muses when you both sit at the dinner table.

“He is.” A smile appears on your face, remembering his sweet gesture and warm presence. Then your mind shifts to the conversation you had earlier, and what has been bothering you lately. “Mom?”

“Hmm…?”

“Five years ago, how did I end up in the hospital?”

Your mother noticeably stiffens at your question, ceases digging through her plate of food.

“You and Dad never filled me in. You both kept on saying that my memories will return eventually… Until now actually.” You let out a breath. “I think I’m old enough to know what really happened.”

Letting out a deep breath herself, your mother puts down her fork. “What do you remember?”

“I was at a playground and hiding… Then there’s someone who came to find me.” Met with silence from your mother, you continue, “Was it one of my friends?”

Shaking her head, your mother answers, “It wasn’t any of your high school friends.”

“Then who…?”

“You never mentioned his name. But you’d always talk about him back then.” Your mother sighs. “Go through the attic when you’re having a day off. You’ll find some of your old stuff I hid there. Make sure your father is not home.”

Standing up, you want to go there at once. However, your mother stops you. “Y/N, listen to me. Whatever you find there, if you… If anything hurts or feels just too much, I want you to stop, alright? You’re a grown adult and I trust you’ll prioritise your own health.”

Nodding wordlessly, you finish the remaining food on your plate.

[ when you were fifteen years old: after the incident ]

When the dismissal bell rings, some students instantly scramble from their desks, some stretch lazily on their seats and have conversations with others.

“Hey, Y/N.” One of your classmates calls you, a smile etched on her face. “So glad to have you back.”

“Yeah! This sem has been a pain in the ass. You’ll get through it in a breeze!” Another classmate adds.

You respond with a grateful smile of your own before packing up your things.

It hasn’t been that long since you were released from the hospital. You have persistently insisted your parents to let you go back to school and they finally relented after you promised them that you’ll go straight back home and to not strain yourself after dismissing your parents’ idea of hiring a driver.

Today is your first day back. Your friends greeted you excitedly when you stepped into the classroom. Even those who you recall never talked much with you greeted you with a ‘Hi’.

Walking mindlessly through the streets of your neighbourhood, your legs take you to a cafe as you recognise the familiar scent of coffee.

Tilting your head in confusion, you stare at the cafe building in shades of black and brown.

What exactly are you doing here?

There were no planned meetups with your friends, yet, your body seems to find its way here. Fishing out your phone, you scan through the past messages to double check any planned hangouts.

It’s a Wednesday.

But…

With the curiosity nagging inside you, you search for Beomgyu’s contact.

[ 4:05 PM ] You: beomie, do you know the cafe near my place?

[ 4:05 PM ] Beomgyu: i guess?? Every wednesday you'd always go there for no apparent reason at all. When i wanted to tag along you’d always give me the devil eye :(

[ 4:05 PM ] You: oh… that’s… well, sorry lol. Do u wanna come here?

[ 4:06 PM ] Beomgyu: wait, r u srs ???

[ 4:06 PM ] You: i mean if u’re not busy and i think getting coffee and hanging in the cafe would be good.

[ 4:07 PM ] Beomgyu: i'd never thought this day would come :’) i’ll be there in 10.

Chuckling at your friend’s response, you place your phone back into your pocket. Exhaling, you enter the cafe and make your way towards the cashier register.

“Welcome, what would you like for today?” The person smiles at you.

“Caramel macchiato, please.”

She nods, typing in your order. “That will be four dollars.”

After exchanging your payment with a receipt, you wait at an empty table for two near the window. Something about this familiar place, however, feels off. Like there is something missing that you can’t seem to put your finger on.

Your thoughts are cut off when someone takes the seat across from you. “Why are you so deep in thought?”

Beomgyu stares at you quizzically as you blink in realisation. “Uh…”

He narrows his stare at you suspiciously before shifting his gaze around the cafe. “So, what is it that kept you going here?”

You shake your head in response. “I have no idea either. Honestly, I have this gut feeling to come here when I passed by earlier.”

“Hmm, maybe the coffee?” Beomgyu watches one of the waitresses bringing your orders, placing it on your table.

Sighing, you stare at the steaming cup with caramel drizzles on the foam for a few moments. Then you bring the cup to your lips to take a sip.

“Argh, why is this bitter?” Scrunching your nose, you motion towards the waitress for extra caramel.

“Did… Your taste buds change too? You said the caramel macchiato here is perfect.”

A snort escapes you as you drizzle more caramel into the coffee. “I got hit in the damn head, Beomie. It doesn’t change my taste buds.”

He shrugs. “Well, who knows. I never knew you like caramel that much.”

You freeze momentarily.

“Y/N? You okay?” Beomgyu waves a hand in front of your face.

“Y-yeah, I just…”

“You just…?”

Shaking your head once more, you whisper, “It’s nothing…” But your eyes scan through the busy workers in the cafe.

Deep inside, you had an inkling that the coffee here isn’t your sole reason for coming here.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Turns out you were right.

Once when you came into the cafe on another Wednesday, you sat at your usual place after ordering your usual drink.

“Oh, my dear, you’re finally back,” someone says.

Blinking, your gaze snaps to the elder woman — maybe around her mid fifties — and you give her a small smile before asking, “Do I know you...?”

It was her turn to look confused at your words.

“I’m really sorry for not recognising!” You grow flustered at your words. “I lost my memory in an accident a few months ago...”

“Oh, that’s awful!” The lady — a regular customer, you assume — gasps. “So that’s why you don’t frequent this cafe anymore. The young man looked so heartbroken before he quit his job—”

“Young man?”

“The barista, dear,” the lady replies. “You used to come here and meet him. I had to shush the both of you every time to not disturb the other customers.”

“I... Was he from my school?”

The lady shakes her head. “I don’t think so. He never wore a uniform like yours.”

“Do you know his name?”

The lady shakes her head once more. “His name was Park. Probably that’s his last name. At least that’s what is written on his name tag.”

And you internally groan. There are thousands of people with that last name.

“Do you know where he’s gone?”

“I’m afraid no, my dear. I heard he quit the job suddenly.”

Sighing, you thanked the lady before heading out of the cafe with your shoulders dropping in defeat.

The trapdoor makes a loud creaking sound when you lift it up, indicating that it hasn’t been used for a very long time. Slipping the key back to your back pocket, you step up further on the ladder with the trap door laying on another side as you go through it while the floorboards creak underneath your weight.

It didn’t take you long to locate your old things. Scanning through the boxes, you find one doodled in various flowers and rainbows with your name written on it as well.

With a grunt, you lift up the dusty box, bringing it down to the floor with a thud which causes you to cough at the flying dust. In an attempt to swat the dust away, you wave your hand in front of you. Still coughing uncontrollably with your eyes watering. After your cough ceases, you crouch and open the box. A few notebooks can be found inside along with some old dolls from your childhood.

You vaguely remember the locked diary you liked to write in about your day and its pale pink cover which was covered in sparkling stickers you used to be obsessed with.

Digging further through the books, you finally found it — the possible answer to your lost memories — with a small key dangling on the lock.

Climbing down from the attic, you made your way to your room while fumbling with the lock and key of your old diary. After successfully unlocking it, you take a seat on your padded window sill, flipping through the yellowing pages.

The first page was clearly written by you. Your old handwriting and your name. The first entry you wrote dates back to a decade ago.

Your fingers twitch at how cringe-y most of the entries are. Yet, at the same time you find it endearing how you used to write about your day. The good, the bad, and the normal things — appreciating just to be able to experience and get through them.

The last of your entries date back to months before the incident when you were fifteen. Probably because you decided that you were too old to write diaries any longer.

Recalling how you’d always visit the cafe every Wednesday, you skim through Wednesday entries. However one particular name seems to stand out in those entries.

“Mochi?” You flip from one entry to another. Who the hell is that?

Deciding to get to the bottom of this, you search for the earliest entry that you can find — nine years ago.

I met the hot choco guy again, today. I’m feeling so happy!!! He is so nice. why can’t any of the boys in my school be like him????

Hot... Choco? Furrowing your brows, you skip to the next Wednesday entry.

i am feeling so happy that mama brought me to the cafe last last week!!! she do not let me drink the coffee drink, so Mochi give me hot choco! i think it’s the best BEST drink EVER!!!

“How the hell did hot choco guy turn into Mochi?” you mumble to yourself, flipping through your diary to the next Wednesday entry.

Mochi teached me how to do math!!! It was so fun! But when Teacher Lee teaches me, it’s always boring. How did Mochi make math fun??? I wish he go to my school instead and teach me math :(

You internally cringe at your younger self. Exhaling, you press your temple in disbelief.

This whole diary of your younger self is basically gushing over this hot-choco-turned-Mochi guy as you flip through other pages. However, you stop at a certain entry.

Today… Is a very bad day. But Mochi suddenly makes it better.

Glancing at the date — it was the day your grandmother passed away.

He promises to make me cinnamon rolls whenever i tell him to! Just like Grannie… I’m sorry, Diary. I don’t think i can write more today. I just hope tomorrow will be a better day.

“Mochi…” you mumble repeatedly with furrowing brows and the name seems to trigger your brain to relive some memories.

“I’m calling you Mochi!” You hear your own twelve-year old voice. Yelping, your diary lands on the floor with a small thud.

“No!” Another voice rings in your head — familiar and warm. “That’s a really uncool nickname.”

“But you look like a mochi! And it’s not uncool! I think it’s really cute!”

Blinking, your mind brings you back to reality. Reaching down for your diary, you freeze momentarily before clutching your head. For a moment, your heart stops when your gaze lands on your diary’s open page — a drawing of a familiar shooting star.

Mochi is… Jimin?

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ when you were twelve ]

When another sigh escaped his lips, you glanced up from your math workbook — his face can only be described as perturbed. With no hesitance, you quietly pushed the last cookie on your plate to him, earning his glassy stare as it shifted from his notebook that’s lying open on the table.

He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. “Why didn’t you finish that? Do you want to bring it home?”

You shook your head, heat tinging your cheeks. “It’s for you. You look like you need it.”

“It’s caramel cookies.”

Nodding, you mumbled, “You said eating it can comfort people.”

The boy stared at you for a moment longer — recalling the time when you had a bad day and he gave you that, then he chuckled. “I guess I did.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded again. “I can order hot chocolate for you too.”

He reached for the last cookie, finally a small smile you have awaited appearing on his face. “This is enough, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Thanks.”

You beamed at his words, then you extended one hand to take his notebook and draw a shooting star on the page it was opened on.

“We can’t really see shooting stars in here,” you explain, pushing his notebook back to him. “So, whenever you’re having a hard time, wish on this shooting star! It represents hopes and wishes!”

“What that’s—” He stopped himself. Letting out a sigh, he found himself nodding despite how ridiculously endearing the idea was. “Alright. I will.”

The blare of your alarm jolts you awake. Groaning, you grab your phone, turning off the alarm when you realise you have to go to work. You can’t find it in yourself to see Jimin today. Not after finding out that he was, is, part of your missing childhood memories.

Your gaze lands on the diary, laying open on your window sill. As you read more and more of your diary entries, Mochi being Jimin just makes sense. You remember how he went out of his way just to buy you hot chocolate when you were having a bad day — just like in the past.

After all this time, Jimin is actually part of, no, in most of your childhood life.

And he denied it.

Why?

You continuously drift back to that one question. Why did he deny it when you asked him? Don’t people usually love to get reacquainted with their childhood friends?

Sighing, you message Jimin listlessly, telling him you aren’t feeling well before you turn off your phone completely. You don’t think you can handle interacting more with him.

Hours passed, when someone barges in your room. “Y/N!”

Peeking out from your blanket, you glare at your best friend. “What the fuck, Kook?”

“Jimin told me you aren’t feeling well. So, I came to check up on you.”

“Okay, you did. Now, go back home.”

Without responding, he opens the curtain in your room, letting in the piercing sunlight and you let out an annoyed ‘tsk’.

Should have known your best friend isn’t going to let this go easily.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been off the whole weekend. You may be able to trick Jimin but you can’t trick me.”

Still burying yourself under your blanket, the bed dips on your friend’s weight as he waits for your response. But you keep your silence, trying your best to even your breathing. You’ve cried enough after all.

“Hmm?” Jungkook stands up. “What’s this? Your diary?”

Abruptly, you fling yourself off the bed and grab your diary from his clutches.

“Go home, Jungkook. I’m not in the mood to deal with this.”

“You know I won’t until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m just...” Your shoulders droop in defeat. “Why?”

“Why what?”

You hate crying in front of anyone. But it’s as if a dam broke, your tears do not stop falling while you babble, “Why did he pretend to not know me? Why did he deny? Why—”

Jungkook blinks repeatedly at your sudden change. “W-wait! Why are you crying? I don’t under—”

“Park Jimin!” Your sudden outburst flusters him further. “The guy who you’re friends with and who you recommended for me to work with! That’s who!”

“But—”

“He‘s Mochi.”

Jungkook looks dumbfounded for a moment before your words register inside his head. “M-Mochi?”

Like a petulant child, you climb on your bed once more and hide your diary beneath your pillow. “Leave me alone, Kook.”

With a defeated sigh, Jungkook trudges out of your room, leaving you once again drowning in your thoughts.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Jimin has always loved mornings, especially when he is able to quietly bake on what most people would call ungodly hours. There is something enjoyable about being fully awake during this time when no sounds of passing vehicles can distract him, making him feel at ease.

He had started appreciating the little things in life when you — who once stared up at him with curious eyes, expression lightening up when he made a cup of hot chocolate for you — taught him to.

Chuckling to himself, his mind drifts back to the time you first entered his bakery. Gods, he should have known it was you. But you were so different, he could hardly comprehend how much you had grown.

Gone was your happy-go-lucky self. He was stunned when you suddenly snapped at him. Your younger self would probably respond with a smile and drone on about how much you love cinnamon rolls. For a second, his heart had hoped. Maybe you remembered him after all these years?

Yet that hope dissipated in an instant when you merely apologised and ran out. Moreover, you didn’t return to his bakery after buying the cinnamon rolls, he thought he had screwed things up by attempting to start a conversation with you. Or maybe that person wasn’t really you. Just someone who looks a lot like you. He still had his suspicions after all.

However, his suspicions were gone the moment you introduced yourself, leaving him speechless. Jimin would be lying if he said he didn’t hope — at least for a bit — that you would remember him when he mentioned his name.

That was why the moment you appeared once more to work as a part-timer, he was ecstatic. No words can explain it.

He started to look forward to work every day — coming to his own bakery to see you even when you didn’t remember him, but he would still gladly take whatever he can to be around you.

Once he sets the tray of unbaked cinnamon rolls into the oven, his phone buzzes. As soon as he reads the text, his heart drops a little.

[ 7:08 AM ] You: Sorry, I cant come to work today. Not feeling well.

He types, ‘That’s okay. get well soon, y/n :)’

But it left undelivered. Did your phone die? He wonders.

Jimin can’t help shake the weird feeling bubbling inside. So, he messages Jungkook.

[ 7:15 AM ] Jimin: y/n isn’t feeling well today. do u mind checking up on her ???

But of course, Jungkook didn’t read the message until a few hours later. That boy enjoys gaming all night.

[ 12:03 PM ] Jungkook: what?

[ 12:03 PM ] Jungkook: for real ?? since when does she get sick? that girl has a fucking high immunity. she never even once got a cold during the semester

Jimin furrowed his brows at that.

[ 12:04 PM ] Jimin: still, go check up on her pls. she’s ur friend too

[ 12:04 PM ] Jungkook: yeah, omw

It hasn’t even been an hour later when Jungkook rushes into the bakery — earning surprised and curious glances from the customers who were chattering among themselves. “Hyung—“ he catches his breath as he stands in front of the counter. “I think you need to fix—“ Huff. “—I mean go to Y/N’s house yourself.

Jimin blinks in confusion.

“You... You’re Mochi, aren’t you?”

At the mention of that name, blood drains from Jimin’s face instantly.

She remembers...?

“How did you—”

“What matters is, you need to fix it, hyung. You’re the only one who can. She’s not herself, right now. I've known her for a few years and it takes a lot for her to react like this. So, please, you should talk about it.”

“Okay,” Jimin breathes out. “Do you mind closing the cafe once the customers are all done?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, just go to her, hyung. I’ll handle everything here.”

[ when you were fifteen: before the accident ]

“I wish you can teach me math all the time, Mochi,” you giggle, leaning back on the cafe chair. “Everything is easier when you explain it.”

Jimin chuckles at that. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one not paying attention in class.”

Shaking your head rapidly, you deny, “Of course I paid attention! It’s just... I don’t know… It was really boring when my teacher was teaching. He just drones on and on without stopping.”

With an amused hum, Jimin stands up. “I’ll get ready to leave. I’ll walk you home.”

After a few minutes, you head out of the cafe with Jimin behind you. Shivering against the cool night air, you draw closer to the boy. Instinctively, Jimin offers you his open hand which you accepted with no hesitance.

Little did he know, every time he does this, it makes your heart beat a little faster at the way your hand fits well in his. And you savour it.

The build up of feelings has been going on for a while now. Maybe a few months. You’ve developed a crush on him. Like, how can you not? Jimin possesses charming qualities that no one else has. Not to mention how kind and warm of a person he is.

Meetings in the cafe had you wishing they were dates instead. And you had to let him know.

And tell him you did.

He blinks at first, words sinking into him. Mochi, I think I like you. Like, really, really like you.

His cheeks are pink, you weren’t sure if it's from the cold or his embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.”

Of course. What were you expecting? He only sees you as a little sister.

“No, that’s okay,” you reply quickly, but your heart drops. “It’s just… You know, I wanted to tell you know because you’re really cool, Mochi.”

“Y/N… Listen, this is not a good time—” Abruptly, he stops, catching your wrist on his. “I want you to hide in the playground.”

“What?”

“Hide, please. I will explain everything later.”

You want to run away from him. But the pleading look on his face makes you listen.

“There he is!” You hear an unfamiliar shout.

Cursing under his breath, Jimin quickly pushes you under the slide. “Wait here.”

With your own ragged breathing, you struggle to keep yourself as quiet as possible, biting down a hiss from the sting of your scraped knees. Tears pool in your eyes as you wait, hidden behind one of the playground’s slides and out of sight of any possible passerby.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ Present time ]

Jimin reaches your house, his heart beating fast against his chest with a box of cinnamon rolls in hand.

You are home alone and Jungkook has left the door unlocked.

Letting himself in, Jimin glances around. Everything still looks the same as back then. He went to your house once to tutor you. And he still can remember that day clearly.

Climbing up the stairs, he reaches your room. With shaking hands, he knocks on the door.

Silence.

A moment or two passes then your door opens. Jimin braces for the anger you’d throw at him.

But nothing comes.

You merely stand there, eyes glassy as they lock on his.

“Y/N...” He mutters, torn between to reach out or not. But you leave the door open as you sit on your bed. Jimin enters your familiar room, still surprised at how it still looks the same. And his eyes fall on a notebook — the notebook you never let him read — on the table.

“Why are you here?” you ask, voice trembling.

“I wanted to check up on you—”

“Why?”

Jimin knows at once what you are asking.

He approaches you sitting on the edge of the bed. He kneels down, peering up with those chocolate eyes of his to meet your downcast stare — like those times when he wants to talk to you and you refuse to look at him.

“Do… Do you still remember me?” Your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

“Y/N…” The lack of surprise in his voice answers it. He still remembers you as you recall the once shocked expression on his face when you first introduce yourself. Now, it all made sense.

“W-Why didn’t you tell me?” A sob escapes your lips. “Do you not want me to remember—”

He shakes his head, denying it quickly. “No! Of course not. I just… I was ecstatic actually when it was you who came to work for me.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” Voice cracking. “You knew me—”

Clearly in conflict, he sighs, “I don’t want you to remember your traumatic memories… Remembering me might cause you more pain.”

“But it didn’t. Those memories, from what I can remember there’s nothing—”

“That’s what your parents told me, Y/N.”

Eyes widening, you gape at him as tears cascade down your face.

“You were seriously injured back then. The doctor said it will be best for you to let your own memories come to you in their own time. And I had to leave this place... I came by after your operation and... I wanted to say goodbye but I was told it was best to not see you any longer to prevent anymore distress—”

“But you are important to me!” You cut him off. Then turning quieter, “You are important to me…”  You say between sobs.

Covering your eyes with your hand, you whimper when Jimin engulfs you in a hug. “I’m sorry…” He murmurs, caressing your head. “I’m so sorry…”

His heart breaks at your current state, tightening his hold on you, who’s crying into his chest. Years of buried regret and longing resurface. He had envisioned many times on how you would remember him. But he fails to realise how much it can hurt you when your memories return. If only he can turn back time, he will take that chance to save you from the misery of your memory loss.

Yet, all he can do now is to hold you close, begging you for forgiveness and hope that you’d let him stay by your side.

“So, let me get this straight, you—” Jungkook points his straw at you. “—and Jimin hyung were childhood friends—” He pierces the plastic cover of his milk tea. “—and he used to tutor you in a cafe.”

Nodding, you purse your lips and enjoy your own drink.

You had taken a few days off after the reconciliation to collect your thoughts and confront your parents about what had happened. They have come into terms with their protectiveness of you staying out very late. And you have managed to convince them to let you stay out late as long as you let them know.

You were planning to stay in bed all day if it wasn’t for Jungkook who barged into your room like he owns the place, after he claimed that Jimin lets him off from work early — which you doubt honestly, it’s more of Jungkook escaping from work — and decided to drag you to the nearest milk tea shop.

“Is something weird?” you blurt out.

“Did you by any chance, I don’t know...” Jungkook mutters. “Have feelings for each other?”

You nearly choke on your tapioca pearl and rapidly you shake your head. “No! That’s—”

Jungkook narrows his stare at you, sipping his drink as you continue to blabber, “I mean, I knew him since I was like, what? Twelve? He never sees me that way.”

“Maybe he didn’t back then.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean both of you are adults now. Aren’t things different?”

You snort at his words. “He always sees the little girl in me, Jungkook. So, please, don’t make things weird, alright? I can literally see your head gearing.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh. “Alright, if you say so. But how about you?”

Sipping your drink, you lift a brow at him.

“Do you like him?”

“Of course, I do.”

“I meant like, like him.”

“Kookie, what are you? Five?”

He snorts at your response. “Five heads taller than you—” Your glare shuts him up. “Okay, but do you see him as someone special?”

An exasperated sigh escapes your lips. “Why are we discussing this? We’re just friends. Who coincidentally are childhood friends as well.”

“You sure?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh once more. “What are you expecting me to say?”

“What do you think of him?”

Almost at once, the words flow easily out of your mouth. “He’s a caring person and he knows how to comfort someone when they’re having a bad day.”

“You mean, he knows how to comfort you when you’re having a bad day yourself,” Jungkook chuckles.

You blink at that.

“Look, I’m not implying anything but he was worried as hell when I told him about you the other day. Even nearly left his bakery without supervision. That’s when yours truly—” He points at himself. “—came in.”

And the question that swims in the back of your mind disappears. “So, it is you, you overgrown rabbit. You told him about me—”

“Well, you can’t blame me. You should be thanking me instead. It’s because of me you both finally reconciled. Admit it, you’re happy — happier, in fact.”

And you can’t deny it. Jungkook has been one of those people who’d look out for you. Yes, even when he can be a pain in the ass sometimes, or just loves to hear the “piping hot” tea of what’s happening in your life.

Sighing in defeat, you murmur, “Even if I do like him...” You shake your head. “No, it shouldn’t even matter in the first place.”

Noticing your shuttering expression, Jungkook thankfully does not press the subject further. Nor does he question why. And you are grateful for him.

“Interesting. So, you do like him.”

Scratch that, your best friend is still a pain in the ass.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Standing in front of the bakery cafe, you released a deep breath.

Through the glass door, Jungkook is helping out at the cashier counter, serving beverages and desserts to dine-in customers. However, Jimin is nowhere in sight.

Releasing a deep breath, the bell of the door rings which signals your entrance. Jungkook notices you at once before he points to the kitchen.

You rush inside — stopping abruptly a few steps away from him — now, regarding the man differently. He was the boy who has been your comfort for so many occasions after all.

Jimin is icing cupcakes, his eyes focusing on his task and you can’t help but smile at the sight.

With your memories — of kindness, warmth, and friendship — now fully returned, you remember how you were always enamoured watching Jimin work. You’d watch him make drinks in the cafe when you had no homework to do. You’d sit at the bar, munching on cookies-of-the-day as your eyes followed Jimin’s movements.

A few moments pass, Jimin’s gaze shifts to you briefly and double-takes. He curses under his breath, cupcake slipping from his grip — icing spilling on the marble counter. “Hey, you’re back—” He quickly grabs a cloth and wipes off the cream before he turns to face you properly, grinning from ear-to-ear. “—you didn’t tell me you’re coming in today.”

He opens his arms and your legs move of its own accord, following your instinct as you close the distance between you and him — wrapping your arms around his waist.

You weren’t surprised at how your younger self used to have a big fat crush on him. He was and always will still be your Mochi. The guy who treated you to your favourite sweets, who knows how you like your caramel macchiato the best, and who never fails to put butterflies in your stomach.

Breathing his sweet scent, you remember the time you’d ask him for hugs whenever you were down and your younger self had even claimed once that his hugs were magical as it was written in your diary. To quote it, “Mochi gives the BEST BEST hugs in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD”.

“Your hugs…” you mumble, eyes closed. “They’re still the best…”

Jimin merely tightens his hold on you. That is until a force — appearing in the form of Jeon Jungkook — shatters the serene atmosphere, bringing you back to reality. “Hyung! Oh—”

Abruptly, you both pull away from each other. Jungkook stands awkwardly, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“What is it?” Jimin breaks the silence, composed as ever.

“Uh, need more cupcakes. The ones on the display are finished…”

“Right,” Jimin turns to you. “Y/N, can you help me ice the rest of the cupcakes?”

Nodding, you turn to the employee’s room, putting your things in the locker and grabbing an apron.

Hugging Jimin seems so natural that you fail to consider how weird it looks to the people around you. Jungkook’s awkward silence proves that.

Your thoughts are swimming in confusion. And once again those butterflies appear in your stomach. Fanning your heated cheeks with your hands, you take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

Your childhood crush is gone. You’re just happy to have Mochi back in your life. That’s all. That should be all.

One afternoon, you mindlessly clean up the kitchen. Due to the public holiday, the bakery is closing earlier, and your thoughts have drifted back to the past.

You remember the night of the incident when Jimin walked you home after he had lost those men who chased after him. He stopped you for a moment, breaking the silence. “You okay?” Warm concern lacing his tone.

Jaw clenching, you mumbled. “Just a scratch.” Reluctant to give him any longer response.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have shoved you harshly before.” He crouched, inspecting your knees before he peered up to meet your stare.

“It’s fine.”

When you were just a few blocks away from home, Jimin broke the silence. “Listen Y/N—” His footsteps faltered as he reached to touch your shoulder. “—about earlier, I think you shouldn’t have feelings for me, I—”

Abruptly, you pulled your hand away from his, hurt consuming you. “I shouldn’t have feelings for you?”

You wished Jimin had forgotten your spontaneous confession as he nodded, hesitantly.

“Well, I can’t control my feelings. So, just let it be. It’ll be fine.” You glanced at him before walking faster.

The rest of the trip home was tense, full of unanswered questions. Who were those men? Why did they chase after Jimin? Is it really that bad to have feelings for him? Who gave him the right to dictate your feelings?

You felt so childish back then. Recalling the memories makes you cringe at your younger self for overreacting. But you suppose it’s normal for a fifteen year-old girl. And you were able to sense that Jimin wanted to ease the tense atmosphere. But you were too hurt to even give him a chance. You needed time to process what happened that day.

However, one minute Jimin had stopped you again, desperate to appease you. And the next minute, someone ran towards him with a bat in hand. It’s as if time slowed down, you moved before a harsh impact landed on you.

Your mind brings you back to reality, and instinctively you touch the part where your head was struck with your free hand.

“Y/N? Are you done cleaning up?”

Jimin’s voice startles you and you nearly drop the mop’s handle from your grasp.

“Yes,” you manage to say. And somehow you can’t look at him in the eye.

“What’s wrong?” Out of instinct, he cups your face to look at you in the eye. And hell, your heartbeat gradually increases as you can smell the sweet scent of bread from him along with a tinge of his cinnamon scent.

Mind blanking out at the close proximity, the only intelligible response you can say is, uhhh. Your grip on the mop handle tightens as your palm grows clammy.

He’s gorgeous. That’s one thing for sure.

“Hey, why are you blushing?”

Blinking rapidly, you watch his eyes turn into those crescent moons and a giggle escapes his lips as he pulls away, grabbing the mop from your hold.

“I’ll put this back. You nearly snapped it in half, you know.”

“Yeah,” you nod, mind whirling and you blabber the first thing in your mind. “I have a pet fish.”

“Huh?”

Realising how random you sounded, you clear your throat. “I just remember I had to come home early today, since Mr. Goldy is waiting for me.”

“Ooh, that’s—”

But you’ve run for the lockers, quickly changing out of your work attire.

“Thanks for today, Mochi. See you tomorrow!” You say and run out of the bakery without sparing him another glance.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“What are you exactly doing here?”

Unflinching, you answer your best friend monotonously, “Buying a fish.”

“You don’t have a tank at home.”

“Exactly, that’s why I’m looking for one now.”

“But why?”

“Why not?”

Jungkook lets out a sigh. “You’ve been acting weird all week, Y/N.”

You ignore his words, eyes scanning through the fishes of different colours and kinds.

“Oh! These ones are pretty.” Jungkook comments, earning your attention.

“Excuse me?” You call one of the workers there. “I was wondering if this fish is suitable for beginners.”

The worker nods, smiling. “Yes, these are what we call the Betta fish. Their scales are beautiful and they are also easy to take care of. Would you like to purchase them?”

You respond with a brief ‘yes’.

“Now, all you need is a tank,” Jungkook says.

“We provide delivery services for the tank. I’d recommend buying this one.” The worker points at one of the tanks. “In the meantime, you can purchase the fishbowl for now.”

And with that you have a new pet fish and a brand new fish bowl in hand — specifically Jungkook’s, because you gotta put those muscles into good use — and you head back home. On the way back, Jungkook suddenly clears his throat. “So… What’s up with you?”

“What?”

“Let me summarise what just happened,” he says. “I had the day off today, and suddenly you called me to meet you in a fish store, and you have been acting all weird and somehow out of all the nice shades of blue fishes in the tank, you chose the ugly yellow—”

You kick his shin in retaliation. “It’s not yellow, it’s gold, dumbass. How dare you say that in front of Lady Goldilocks.”

“Oh, wow, now it even has a name.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I seriously can’t believe you chose this one out of all the other colours. It reminds me of Jimin hyung—” And he gapes at you. “No way. Is it because he likes this colour?”

You blink in realisation. Jimin does like this colour.

“Okay, ‘fess up. What’s up with you?”

You let out a defeated sigh. “I like him.”

Jungkook looks unamused.

“I mean like, like him. And I need to get over him.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Why would Hyung want that?””

“I shouldn’t like him, Kook. He told me once and, I don’t know, I just can’t control my feelings. I don’t want to lose him again and I’m scared that he’ll be gone if he knows—”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Jungkook grasps your shoulder with his free hand. “—I can understand what you’re feeling, Y/N. How about let me prove to you that Jimin won’t be gone even when you have feelings for him?”

“I swear, Jeon Jungkook, if you utter a single word about this conversation—”

“No!” He denies repeatedly. “I won’t. Promise. I can prove it to you another way. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, then. How?”

“I have a plan. To take the title as your number one best friend once and for all—”

“Who says you are even at the top?”

“Aren’t I? You told me once.” Jungkook fishes his phone out of his jacket, taps a few times on his screen before he shows you a video of your drunk self a few months ago after exam week.

“Kookieee, I think you’re my number one best friend! So proud to have someone like you in my life—”

You try to reach for his phone, cheeks burning in embarrassment, as you shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster. However, Jungkook being Jungkook merely cackles at that. Your voice from the video still continues, “—you’re like Mochi—” Your present self tenses at that.

“Who’s Mochi?” Jungkook asked curiously in the video.

“Shhhhh… We don’t speak of that name here, m’kay? Mochi is gone. So you are best friend number one!”

Jungkook stops the video, tucking his phone back to his pocket. “I asked you once who Mochi was when you were sober. But you didn’t remember back then. So I never asked again until you mentioned the name ‘Mochi’ once more a few days ago.”

Gaping, you stop walking as the stunned silence falls over you.

“I think your subconscious had always known about him. And it shows how special he is to you.” When you’re about to deny that, Jungkook shushes you. “Don’t try to deny, Y/N. Even before you knew he was Mochi you already liked him.”

“I hate that you’re starting to look like a rooster. Were you always this cocky?”

Your best friend merely shrugs. “So, here’s the plan. As I was saying, with my ‘number one best friend’ title under threat, we’re going to demote Jimin as your boyfriend! It’s a win-win situation!”

“What? I never even asked for him to be my boyfriend but wait— Don’t you mean promote?”

“Y/N, as much as I love your dumb ass, you tend to be quite demanding with people. Hopefully, he knows how to handle your present self.”

“Jeon Jungkook, please don’t make me regret this.”

A few days after the conversation with Jungkook, the boy gets to work as fast as possible, and by work, it means work to get on Jimin’s nerves instead of actually being helpful in the cafe.

Jungkook has become noticeably clingy, or overall, just more touchy with you. It’s not like it’s anything new in all honesty. Throughout college, the relationship between the both of you is purely platonic. Your other college friends knew this and seeing the both of you cuddle wouldn’t be a strange sight. Jimin, however, isn’t one of your college friends and Jungkook seems to have taken advantage of this. Thus, he begins to work in the bakery almost every day, claiming just to see you.

At first Jimin showed no reaction since Jungkook is a good friend of his. But he has grown visibly irritated lately while Jungkook revels in pressing the older one’s buttons further.

“Jungkook…”

“Hmm?”

“Can you please stop invading my personal space?”

“But it’s not going to work if I don’t— Oof!” You shove him away before going back to your task — placing the cupcakes on the display tray — annoyance building up at Jungkook’s disruptions.

“I’m going to file a restraining order on you at this rate.”

He huffs, moving towards you once more. “Don’t you want to prove that Jimin is going to be pissed if he sees me being affectionate to you?”

You shake your head. “I just want to work in peace.”

“Hmph. You’re no fun.”

“Cuz you’re the one not working.”

“Hey, I’m helping here voluntarily.”

You ignore his words, focusing on your task while Jungkook starts whining for you to give him attention. “Kook, I fucking swear if you don’t get your hands off—”

Jimin’s voice rings “Y/N, are the cupcakes...” He trails as soon as he enters the kitchen, freezing at the sight of Jungkook wrapping his arms around your waist, snuggling his dumb head on the crook of your neck.

“He’s going to rage,” Jungkook whispers, laughing softly.

“Uh, Jungkook can I talk to you?” Jimin asks, eyes noticeably narrowing as his tone tenses.

“Finally,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, before he lets go of you and faces Jimin. “Sure, Hyung.”

You take that cue to leave, bringing the freshly iced cupcakes to the display counter, leaving Jungkook and Jimin alone in the kitchen.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“What’s been going on with you lately? You come here to work everyday but all I can see is you busy flirting with Y/N.” Jimin throws the younger one an unamused glare.

Jungkook answers easily, “I do my job, Hyung. And so what if I do flirt with Y/N?”

“You can’t,” Jimin blurts out, earning a questioning look from Jungkook. “You just can’t.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Do you like Y/N?”

“Of course, she’s my best friend.”

Jimin shoots Jungkook another unamused look at his answer.

“I’m going to tell her how I feel in three days,” Jungkook continues.

Jimin’s stomach drops at that statement. However, at the same time the urge to let you know how he truly feels increases. But the thought of the impending rejection after hurting you and causing your memory loss makes him think twice.

Maybe Jungkook deserves you more than him — he can protect and support you while Jimin has failed.

With a shaky breath, Jimin mutters, “Take care of her, alright?”

Obviously, his response catches Jungkook off guard. “What?”

“Take good care of Y/N, JK. I’m seriously counting on you.”

“Wait—“ Jungkook looks downright flustered at the unexpected response. “Hyung, wait.”

“What?” Now it’s Jimin’s turn to be confused.

Jungkook clears his throat. “Just give me an honest answer, hyung. No lies.”

A pause.

“Do you like Y/N? As in more than friends?”

Jimin nods without hesitance.

Jungkook mumbles something under his breath that Jimin is sure it sounds like, freaking idiots.

“Go tell her how you feel, Hyung. And tell her as soon as possible.”

“But you—”

“It’s to push you to confess to her. I don’t see Y/N that way.” Jungkook sighs. “Honestly, what would the both of you be without me?”

Jimin stands in the kitchen, speechless, as Jungkook continues to ramble how significant his role is in between your relationship and how you and Jimin owe him so much.

“So, yes, go tell her how you feel, hyung. She’ll listen to whatever you’ll say.”

With a newfound resolve, hope sparks in Jimin’s heart. “I will.”

To say that Jimin is nervous would be an understatement. He had barely slept a wink last night, thinking of all the words and how he would explain why he had left so suddenly and confess his feelings to you. Jungkook has been a supportive friend, even if he does push Jimin’s buttons along the way. However, Jimin knows that it was his own way of showing encouragement.

You are cleaning the rest of the tables of the cafe and Jimin can’t take his eyes off you, staring at you through the small window opening between the kitchen and the counter area.

“Are we done for today, Mochi?” Your voice snaps him out of his daydream.

“Yeah!” Jimin continues to wipe the kitchen counter quickly, replying almost too enthusiastically before he clears his throat. “Do you have plans tonight, Y/N?”

You enter the kitchen and once again Jimin’s heartbeat rises. “Nope. I’m going straight back home after this. Lady Goldilocks is waiting for me.”

Lady Goldilocks. Jimin chuckles at the mention of your fish’s name. He wonders if one day he’s able to see the pet fish for himself. He had asked what happened to Mr Goldy and you had become flustered at that since you didn’t know the fish was female. So, now, you have changed the fish’s name. Yet, somehow Jimin got an inkling that there is more to the story. He had asked Jungkook — to which the boy had valiantly refused to utter a word about it and had babbled, “Huh? Fish? What fish? Is that for dinner?”

Once the both of you finished closing up the bakery cafe, Jimin taps on your shoulder before you had the chance to go back home.

“May I walk you home?”

You blink, processing his words then nodding rapidly. “S-Sure.”

Jimin smiles warmly at you. It’s easy in fact. Just being in your presence always brings happiness into his heart. You had grown into an amazing person and even more attractive.

Something about you had always captivated Jimin since the first time you met him in the cafe where he used to do his part time work. Your curious eyes were always following him as he took the customers’ orders and honestly, it was very endearing.

Comfortable silence falls upon you both, walking through the asphalt pathway and naturally, Jimin opens his palms, extending it towards you.

You stare at that for a moment and clasp his hand with yours. Jimin weaves your fingers together, bringing you closer to him as you continue to walk back home.

“Do you mind if we take a little detour?”

You nod at his words.

Once Jimin reaches the destination, he can sense your eyes glance curiously at the empty hill. He pulls you up onto the top of the hill, sitting down on the grass while he pats the space next to him and you follow suit.

“Look up,” Jimin whispers, and you did.

A quiet gasp escapes your lips at the sight of twinkling stars that scatters across the dark sky.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Jimin voices out. “Someone made me realise how beautiful the stars are…” He falters. “A-And she had never left my mind all those years. One of my deepest regrets is that I wasn’t able to say goodbye when I had to leave.”

You hear his words, yet you stay silent — an encouragement for him to continue to speak what’s on his mind.

“My family was in a difficult financial position back then and my dad had done things I wasn’t proud of…” Jimin’s eyes turn glassy and faraway, even when he sets his gaze up. “And one of them is that he had made a deal with loan sharks without the guarantee of paying them back… And of course, they were angry.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath.

“I once thought that probably I could still stay here back then. Even more so when I met you. But I was wrong. Those men started to chase after me and because of that, you—” He shudders. “—got injured. And that night my parents had made plans to leave without me and my brother knowing.”

He turns to look at you. “I never got to apologise to you for causing that. I should be the one to protect you but… I failed. For that, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Jimin…” You say softly. “It’s not your fault. I was the one who jumped in front of you when the man came after you. It’s my own choice because you are special to me.”

“But I could have—”

You shush him with a pointer finger in front of his lips for a few moments. “You don’t have to be sorry anymore, Mochi. It’s not your fault. And what matters now is to focus on the present and look to the future, right?”

He nods, emotions swimming inside his chocolate eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought—”

“For telling you that you shouldn’t have feelings for me.”

And you lapse into silence. He remembers…?

“I hate that that has hurt you. I shouldn’t have said that. But I was happy but desperate too since my family—”

“Jimin.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“What do you see me as, now?”

He blinks. All the practiced words on how he would tell you his feelings dissipate from his mind as he blankly stares at you. “I… I like you.” His voice grows quieter. “More than friends…”

“And if I said you shouldn’t have feelings for me?”

A flash of hurt crosses his eyes briefly. But he answers, nonetheless, “I would do what you want.”

“So, you reciprocate my feelings now?”

“H-huh?”

“I like you too. More than friends. In fact, I think my feelings have grown for you ever since I found out you’re Mochi.”

It takes a few moments for Jimin to process your words. He gapes, mouth opening and closing.

“You are resembling Lady Goldilocks right now.”

“What?”

Your cheeks flush. “Lady Goldilocks is a Betta fish. She was the golden one in a tank full of her blue siblings. Jungkook tried persuading me to choose the blue ones since they were more attractive to look at. But all I could see is the gold one since it reminded me of you.”

“I like golden colours…” Jimin mumbles in realisation.

“Exactly,” you let out a sheepish laugh, eyes turning to look back up into the sky. Before Jimin can respond, your eyes brighten up. “Look! A shooting star!”

Jimin snaps his gaze up as well.

“Hurry, make a wish!” You then close your eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear. Jimin follows suit, making his own wish.

As soon as you both finish making your wishes, you turn to face him once more.

“Are you still sorry for saying that to me?”

Jimin nods, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Hell, he thinks he would always regret hurting you that time.

“I know how you can make it up to me then.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

“W-What?” He splutters.

“Unless you don’t want—“ Yet, your words die on your throat as Jimin moves closer to you, eliminating the distance between you both as he cups your face just like that time in the bakery.

Without another word, he leans down, pressing his lips on yours softly while you place your hands on top of his before he presses further, brows furrowing as he kisses you fervently. For the time being, all that matters is just you and him. He caresses your cheeks and you run your hands down to wrap around his waist until you can feel his heart beating against his chest.

After pulling away — both of you catching your breaths — Jimin presses his forehead against yours, running his thumb over your lips while you were unable to open your eyes for a few moments at the burst of emotions that is coursing through you.

“I’ve imagined this moment so many times,” he admits. “My wish finally came true.” And you smile at that.

“My wish also came true because of you, Mochi...”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Sitting on one of the tables, your eyes can’t take themselves off Jimin as he serves customers. Today is your day off and you decided to pay him a visit in the bakery.

“You’re drooling.”

Your gaze snaps up to your best friend who sits across you after placing a cinnamon roll on the table for you. Jungkook continues, “I swear I’m going to vomit one of these days if I see you or Jimin hyung throwing each other— what was that called? It’s an old term— Oh! Goo-goo eyes one more time.”

“Shut up, Jeon. I’m not.” You reach for the roll, taking a bite.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah right, you basically either stare at him like he placed stars in the sky or like you want to tear off his clothes—”

You choke on the roll, quickly reaching for your glass of water before you throw your napkin at his face. Jungkook cackles at that before he resumes his act, sighing. “This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have intervened. I didn’t know you’d be like this. My best friend is so uncool now.”

“Y/N is what?” You perk up at Jimin’s voice.

“Whipped,” Jungkook mutters before he takes his cue to leave. He stands up, passing by Jimin after shooting the older one a teasing glance.

Jimin sits across from you, and he instinctively reaches for your hand on the table. “How was your day?” And you swear you can hear Jungkook making a gagging sound amidst the chatter of the customers.

“Good. I finished my chores at home earlier today. So, I thought I would come visit.”

Minutes pass by quickly as you chatter with Jimin. He had almost forgotten to go back to work until Jungkook reminded him. When it is time to close up the bakery, you watch him wash the remaining mixing bowls while perching on one of the cleaned counters of the kitchen.

“You know, I could use some help,” Jimin teases, drying his hands on his apron.

A smile curls up on the corner of your lips, eyes following his movements — drawing closer to where you are. “Well, I think you got it all handled, Mochi.”

Once he reaches you, he pulls you to wrap your legs around his waist while your arms rest on his shoulders — encircling around his neck. You both stare at each other and he pushes a strand of stray hair away from your face, tucking it behind an ear while his other hand settles on your waist.

“Sometimes, I still can’t believe that you’re really here with me,” You admit. “Just like a sweet dream.”

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not, Y/N...” He leans to give you a chaste kiss. “... we’ll make up for the lost time we didn’t spend together.”

“Promise?”

He softly smiles at you. “Promise.”

author’s note: this was originally intended to be posted on jimin’s birthday but well i decided to add more stuff in it. thus, i am late alskflsdda so yes, i hope you guys enjoy this fic and feedbacks are always appreciated !! thank you for reading ♡

[kissmetae]

Silhouette

❧ AU: Dance Teacher/Dancer AU || You were working as a dance teacher at a dance academy and one day while dancing for yourself you stumble upon the new dance teacher at the academy watching you. Like a magnetic force you were drawn to each other and quickly became friends... and more than.

|| SMUT | 7.6k | x reader | masterlist in bio ||

❧ Disclaimer: This is fiction. Actions and events in these stories are often exaggerated and to a certain degree unrealistic.  Please have this in consideration when reading fiction, especially if it includes sexual content.

❧ Rating: EXPLICIT || sexual content, unprotected sex

❧ Smut features: Vanilla, semi(?) public, mirror, Top!Tae, greedy and desperate, confessional, stripping the other, dancing, tension(!), pulling out, kinda innocent and sweet but lusty af and more...~

❧ A/N: Long time no writing... I’ve been busy with work and my dance academy as well as being in a long drawing over writing phase but here I am because I want to be able to do what I can for people to find an escape during the tough times we are all going through right now. Remember that it will pass. I’ll be trying my best to write more and my ask is always open for suggestions and prompts.

Green lights, pink lights and purple lights were all flashing brightly in the dark room as the base of the music made the speakers gently vibrate.

 Extending the arm, a graceful hand caressed the chin of the energy surrounding you. The beat changed and your left leg extended to the side as you quickly rotated towards the other end of the room, meeting your reflection in the mirror with a smirk with each spin.

 You froze, looking back and landing on your knee to end up on the floor.

You liked calling this move the sexy snow angel, because it reminded you of one... Your hands meet above your head and your legs pushed you around onto your tummy and suddenly you were back up on your feet again.

 Your elegant posture hit a dramatic off switch when you suddenly called it a quit and headed over to your phone that was connected to the speakers.

Of course you couldn’t help but jam a little to the song one last time before hitting the pause button.

 This was your passion, your element.

Sometimes you considered this place your home more than your own apartment.

 The music stopped and you hit the switch for the lights, temporarily making the room go dark before the bright lights lit up the room properly.

 ”Wow.”

 The sudden sound of a deep unfamiliar voice made you jump like an ice cold blade had just been stabbed right through your abdomen.

 ”Oh my god!” You expressed, holding a hand over your heart.

 The voice giggled.

 ”You scared me to death!” You laughed and turned toward the stranger peaking in through the door.

 ”Sorry...” He smiled.

”It’s ok, I’m not used to anyone else being here this late so I wasn’t prepared.” You explained and grabbed your bag.

 ”I was about to leave but I heard music and got curious... you’re really good.” His tone lowered towards the end as he got a little flustered.

 As you approached him you got a better look at the tall man.

 His dark hair was messy, a few wet strands clinging to his forehead. But the first thing you noticed was his big dark eyes, framed by long lashes, full of passion...

 ”I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” You pointed out, tilting your head slightly.

 His shoulders were broad and legs long... despite not seeing much through his loose pants you could guess that they were toned and lean.

He was also wearing a grey sweater, dark at the neckline from the sweat...

 ”I’m new.” He smiled and moved away from the door to allow for you to exit.

”Wait, are you the new teacher?”

He nodded.

 Eager to have met the guy you’ve only heard of till now you reached out your hand to greet him and introduce yourself.

 ”Taehyung.” He smiled. ”What do you teach?” He asked curiously.

”Contemporary and jazz. What about you?”

”Kids’ street and isolations.”

”Oh, you have the little ones!?”

”Yes, they’re so cute.” He smiled shyly.

”I’ve heard they’re always so eager to learn.”

”It gets really playful too!” He chuckled.

 He was intriguing... and pretty cute and warm on first impression.

 Outside it was already dark and a few drops of rain were falling down.

You pulled on your coat while you and Taehyung kept talking and he pulled on his own.

A light grey long coat and a dark green scarf... a man of style?

 ”Do you do any other styles besides what you teach?” Taehyung asked, stealing your attention from his outfit.

 ”I do a lot of modern, I’ve of course done my share of mandatory ballet as a kid.” You chuckled. ”But besides that I take afro fusion and kizomba classes, how about you?”

”Wow? Do you battle?”

”Sometimes...” You confessed shyly.

”I do hiphop, the stuff I teach of course and jazz fusion.” He finished off with a cheeky smile.

”Oh, have I found a substitute teacher for my jazz classes?”

”Just let me know what to do and sure.”

 You headed towards the door and Taehyung walked out first, giving the door a gentle push so it wouldn’t close on you.

 ”So what’s kizomba?” He asked as you stepped out into the rain, starting the short walk towards the bus stop. ”I’ve heard of it but I don’t know much.”

”I started taking classes for fun about a year and a half ago, it’s a couple dance. But it’s different from the basic couple dance if you ask me. It has more of a flowy sensual feel to it if that makes sense, that’s why I like it.”

”Sounds cool.”

”I think a youtube video would explain better than I am able to, I still consider myself a beginner.” You laughed.

”Based on what I saw earlier you seem like a natural in general when it comes to dance.”

You scoffed silently, feeling your cheeks heat up.

”I’ll have to spy on you dance sometime.” You told him with a playful grin.

 —

 Your chance to spy on him came around sooner than expected.

His class was scheduled for the hour before yours in the same room, meaning you’d get to spy on him briefly at least once a week when you’d sneakily enter at the end of his class to remind that his time was out and it was time to wrap up for the next class.

It was a kind of tradition at the academy to ”interrupt” by watching the end. But it was more fun to watch than to wait outside closed doors either way and it gave you some more time to set up while the previous class packed up and left.

But this was not a sight for sane souls...

His slender large hands held a firm grip of the lower hem of his sweater, fanning it gently to cool himself down inside it.

With every fan he exposed the honey golden skin of his soft lean lower abdomen.

And steering your eyes away was impossible...

There was something about it... maybe it was him, but the sight of his skin and the edge of his calvins peaking above the edge of his sweats...it created a sort of softcore sexual attraction...

”Please stop” you begged silently.

 He was smiling too, while listening to one of his students talking.

He laughed, despite not hearing it your mind could make up the sound of his angelic giggle.

His lips moved as he replied and he pulled a hand through his hair, brushing it back.

That’s when the student noticed you staring and looked towards you, thus making Taehyung automatically look towards whatever the student was looking at and noticing you as well.

His smiled grew wider and he quickly waved bye to the student and walked towards you.

Each step was gracious as he moved like a model across the floor, making your heart beat harder and harder for every step closer he took.

”Hey, we went a bit over time. I’m sorry.” He smiled and rubbed his hand against his neck nervously.

”It’s ok, I’ll steal a minute from the next class, it happens all the time.”

”We were having too much fun.” He chuckled shyly.

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and you felt your entire body stiffen and freeze from his touch.

”I’ll stay around, we can talk more after your class yeah? I have something I want to ask you.” He smiled and let his hand fall from your shoulder as he stepped out of the room along with his students, allowing for yours to enter.

You swallowed.

”O-ok everyone we’ll start warming up right away!” You called and walked over towards the stereo.

—

After your class was over you went downstairs to where the teacher’s lounge was located as well as a few more practice rooms and the general hangout area.

 You quickly refilled your water bottle and had a few greedy sips.

Taehyung was dancing with a few students in the hangout room.

For some reason the thought of escaping to the teacher’s lounge to get your things and leave popped up in your mind. Maybe say you just forgot that he wanted to ask you a question... Or that you had to rush.

 But the thought alone was time enough for Taehyung to spot you by the water tap and eagerly run out of the hangout area and grab your arm.

”Come dance, we’re freestyling!” He said eagerly and tried to pull you along.

”Are you requesting a battle?” You asked, trying to swallow your anxious feelings.

Taehyung raised his eyebrows.

”Yes battle! Battle!” One of the students chanted.

It’s on.

”Are you scared?” You teased Taehyung and walked past him to the hangout area so his hand slipped from your arm.

You placed your water bottle down on the floor by the door and readjusted your shirt slightly.

”Me? Scared? Ha!”

Taehyung took a spot in the area and the students watched eagerly as you stood across of him.

”8 vs 8” You set.

”Deal.”

The student whose phone was connected switched the song to a more battle appropriate one.

”Winner buys dinner.” Taehyung said.

”Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

”But then it doesn’t rhyme.” Taehyung pouted playfully, making you laugh.

You bended your knees slightly and began to sway to the rhythm with a mind already set on starting.

This was playful and spontaneous and more meant as entertainment for the group of students but it didn’t stop you from trying to get into Taehyung’s head with your intimidating gaze in order to score more points towards your win.

 The beat of the song kicked in and you performed an 8. Taehyung immediately responded with his own 8, kicking the ball back to you.

He was a challenge... this could be more fun than you expected.

You did another 8 and finished with going low in a squat, standing near him to pose almost threatening before getting back up and moving back to give him his space.

The song suddenly changed before Taehyung’s turn but he quickly adapted to the song.

”We never said a style you teased!” Immediately recognizing the song as a more contemporary one.

”I thought we auto selected the one we had in common!”

”Too late! Unclear directions!” You teased and twirled back to the center and bent low to flip your hair and dramatically stand back up with your hand following the curves of your body.

”More than an 8! Cheat! Cheat! Judges!?” Taehyung called for the students who were amused by the sudden battle gone war.

You kept dancing.

”Claim back the center!” You teased. ”I’m winning.”

Taehyung took a few determined steps towards you, coming dangerously close for your sanity to remain stable.

His expression had attitude and he licked his lower lip quickly before wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up, making you squeal.

”This is cheating!” You yelled and looked towards the tiny audience that were too busy laughing.

 ”Bye bye.” Taehyung called and walked you towards the teacher’s lounge. ”I admit my defeat!”

”Put me down!” You laughed and tried to wiggle free from his strong hold.

Taehyung finally put you back down when you reached the teacher’s lounge with a wide smile on his lips.

”Next time we’ll set the rules straight and I’ll win.” 

”Sure sure.” You said and grabbed your coat.

 Taehyung moved his hair away from his face and kicked off his sneakers to change to his boots.

”So the thing I wanted to ask you by the way...”

Oh right...

”Yes?”

He bent down to tie his boots while you buttoned your coat.

”I know it’s still early, but I heard for the end of term showcase you could do collaborations with levels and I thought since we both teach jazz we could collab? It’s more that it’s my first term and I’m new to it so it would be a lot easier for me if I had someone who knew how it all works with the showcases by my side and so far you’re the one I’ve spoken the most to here.” He explained with a hint of shyness and stood back up again.

You had never done a level collab but you knew of many that had done it and you had actually been curious, and since you weren’t the only jazz teacher anymore... this might be the perfect opportunity .... and the perfect opportunity to get closer to Taehyung.

”Sure!” You smiled.

”Really!?” Taehyung shined.

”I’ve wanted to try collabs, it would be awesome!”

”You really don’t have to if it’s burdensome.” 

”I do want to, we could make a routine and choreography together!”

”Yay!” Taehyung clapped eagerly. Eager to have a deal as well as feeling like he was making friends with not only the students but the teachers as well.

Taehyung was likable, very likable so it wasn’t really a challenge for him. Especially not with his forgiving confidence and comfort within himself, it only made him more approachable and attractive..

”Oh, and you owe me dinner now, we can talk more about it then!” Taehyung pointed out.

Right... winner buys dinner.

”How about this weekend?” You suggested and pulled on your own boots.

”Works well with me, I’ll give you my number and we can decide on a time and specific day ok?” He smiled sweetly.

You handed Taehyung your phone and bent down to quickly tie your boots.

”Is that your boyfriend as your home screen?” He suddenly asked.

”What!? No! No, no it’s just a celebrity I like.” You explained, embarrassed.

”Ah, I see... There! You have my number now. I sent a text to myself so I would have yours too.” He said and handed you your phone back when you stood back up again.

”Thanks.” You said and grabbed your phone, accidently brushing your fingers against his.

—

You took a seat on the bus and let out a deep exhale.

Did that really just happen?

A person you found attractive giving you attention and expressing a wish to even collab with you? Touching your arm? Indirectly asking if you have a boyfriend!?

Maybe you were over-thinking... there hadn’t been a long time yet but you felt like you clicked well together... at least as friends.

Did he sound disappointed when he asked the questions? A little... No stop, he was just curious! Or he wanted to know if you were availa- stop! 

You shook your head to try and get rid of the thought but it was still haunting you.

At least it couldn’t get worse now.

Your phone vibrated in your hand and you looked down to read the notification.

Taehyungie: Get home safely!

Clearly you were wrong.

You hid your lips with your hand to conceal the wide smile that spread across your face and suppressed the urge to kick the seat in front of you.

You replied with a quick ”You too” and a smiling emoji.

Taehyung: <3

Could he stop!?

This was an attack!

You shoved your phone back into your bag and turned the volume up a little higher in your headphones.

—

When you got back home you had a quick shower and changed into warm comfy lounge wear and took a seat by your desk with a cup of tea.

Maybe you should... flirt?

Flirt with Taehyung?

Risk being obvious that you were interested in him?!

Just the thought of it gave you some sort of anxious feeling within.

You reached for your mug again to take another careful sip of your still too hot tea.

"How to flirt" you typed into the search bar... some research wouldn't hurt.

"Smile."

You rolled your eyes.

"Smile? I already smile!"

"Make sure your feet are always turned to the person of interest.... well I was thinking more vocal flirting but ok..." you mumbled, finding the article you had clicked rather stupid.

 You moved your feet to the edge of your seat in order to hug your knees.

 Maybe it was Taehyung's nature to be open and warm... not that you had seen him display that behavior towards particularly anyone besides you... or was it blinded by wishful thinking?

Regardless... you couldn't stop thinking about him.

 Your tea ended up forgotten and cold.

Who knew there was this amount of articles and pages about flirting? How to flirt, how to tell if someone is flirting... maybe you were oblivious, in denial or just... all around confused.

Mixing up wishful thoughts and reasonable ones was easier done than said and it all became a huge mess.... 

You ended up feeling more and more tired from the thoughts spiraling through your mind and eventually went to bed, but despite feeling tired and exhausted from dancing you still couldn’t fall asleep.

You twisted and turned and you head just couldn’t find peace and kept thinking and thinking. Not only about Taehyung but a ton of things, even things that weren’t causing you stress now caused you stress as you thought of them.

You sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

—

You eventually fell asleep later that night but the morning started with you frantically searching for your water bottle, of course you had a large stash of water bottles in the kitchen but this one in particular was your favorite... it suddenly hit you that you forgot it in the hangout area at the dance academy.

 A feeling of relief and frustration washed over you and you slumped down on your sofa in the living room.

It was raining heavily outside and the sky was dull and grey. The sounds tapped lightly against your windows and it was a nice. You loved rain (if you were indoors that was). 

 You stood back up again and went to prepare yourself some breakfast.

You didn’t have any classes today which meant you had the day off. Either you’d spend it at home to catch up on series all day or head into town and do some shopping to then head home and binge watch your shows regardless for the remainder of the day.

You stretched your arms out gently, feeling a little sore from yesterday as you waited for the water to boil when the memory of yesterday replayed in your head.

“Is that your boyfriend?” You slapped you hand against your forehead to try and delete the haunting memory.

Why did he have to ask that!?

You switched on the tv in the living room while you continued to make breakfast and get ready so that the sounds would make it easier for you not to think about it.

 Fast forward to later and you had found a few likable items and done a mini-grocery shop and was seated on the bus to head back home.

Your phone dinged.

Taehyung: 5 on Saturday?

You: Sure!

Taehyung: I’ll bring your water bottle! You forgot it yesterday, I found it in the hangout room just now and I’m pretty sure it was yours.

You: Please do, I looked for it all morning! It’s my favorite one…

Taehyung: Count on me! It’s already safe in my bag!

You started to type out the words “my hero” but you held back… was it too much? You bit your lip and looked down on the written words one more time before forcing yourself to hit send.

You: My hero

Taehyung: [Typing…]

Your heart started beating a little harder.

Taehyung: ;)

You let out a little internal squeal and put your phone back into your bag as the bus pulled up to your stop.

--

The two of you ended up having a blast together, the food was great, the conversations, the laughs. You had bounded well and it almost felt too easy and good to be true.

"Winner pays dinner" you had laughed while reaching into your bag.

"Sinner treats winner, that rhymes too." Taehyung teased and pulled out his wallet.

"No, I won, I pay. You can pay next time." 

"Does that mean another battle?"

"You bet" you declared and placed your card on the table.

 With a shy smile brought on by the memory you sat down on the sofa in the teacher's lounge with your water bottle in your hand.

You had just held an intense class and if you were exhausted then surely your beginner students would be suffering even more right now.

You took another sip when a group of teachers entered after their classes.

You knew them but didn't really see them as any of your friends.

 "Did you meet the new teacher yet?" One of them asked the other.

They were three teachers in total and you were pretty sure they all had either ballet or contemporary... you should know since you too were a contemporary teacher too but you didn't mind.

"The tall one with broad shoulders?"

"Yes him!"

"I haven't seen him yet" the third commented with a pout.

"He is so handsome and he was checking me out the other day." 

They giggled.

You felt a need to roll your eyes.

"I haven't spoken to him yet but I'll get his number eventually."

You already had it and you didn't ask...

"Yet another one? When will you quit playing sis, remember the hiphop teacher?"

"Uhm, don't mention him thanks."

Oh right... that's why you never bothered to befriend them.

 Taehyung should actually be here any moment now for your scheduled practice...

As you thought about it Taehyung suddenly appeared wearing his long coat and entered the teacher's lounge.

"Excuse me." He said low and tried to get past the chit-chatters who were blocking the door way.

They shoved the third girl in her side so she'd get that it was him and they all checked him out.

 Taehyung hadn't spotted you on the sofa yet and he was wearing headphones.

 "So what did you think of my routine yesterday?" One of them suddenly asked while Taehyung kneeled down to untie his boots.

He removed a headphone and looked up.

"Huh?"

"You watched my routine yesterday, what did you think?" She repeated.

Taehyung paused briefly.

"I don't remember watching you, sorry."

Her smile fell and Taehyung returned to his shoes.

He wasn't rude in his response but she wanted to make it seem that way to cover up for the humiliation she felt.

She appeared to be a bit of a brat...

 Taehyung took out his phone from his coat pocket and removed his headphones and coat.

He was doing something on his phone but you couldn't tell what.... until your phone suddenly rang next to you, grabbing the attention of all five of you.

 "Call: Taehyung"

"Taehyung I'm right here." You laughed

"Oh my god I didn't see you!" Taehyung laughed embarrassed and clicked the call away.

 This felt more and more like a scene from a high school movie.

 You got up from the sofa and Taehyung walked over and gave you a big hug, this time you were prepared for it.

"Sorry I'm sweaty."

"It's ok, we'll both be soon. You can head up and I'll just put on my sneakers real quick." He smiled.

"Ok, I can bring your water bottle, I'll refill mine on the way too so."

"Thanks!" Taehyung quickly pulled out his bottle from his bag and handed it to you and you walked out.

 --

 You turned on the lights and placed the bottles near the stereo and sooner than later Taehyung came running up the stairs and closed the door to the practice room behind him.

 When you turned around you felt like your legs were about to melt from the sight of the tiny ponytail he had tied half his hair up in.

"You like?" Taehyung asked, noticing you looking.

"I love!"

 Taehyung walked over to the stereo and tried to connect his phone to the sound system.

 The two of you were all alone.

The students had all left for the day and the scheduled classes were over and eventually the rest of the teachers would head home too.

 Black sweatpants, folded up by the bottom to show off the ankles and a loose fitted worn-out white long sleeve...

Maybe it was meant to look worn out or it was his favorite top... regardless it fit snugg around his arms, showing off the soft sculpted curves of his triceps.

The thin fabric allowed you to vaguely distinguish the lines of his toned back concealed beneath.

You were staring.

 His neck was wide and long, the curve from his neck to his shoulders practically begged to be caressed....

His shoulders were wide and his waist slim, creating a perfect V shaped figure. 

 Taehyung’s hand adjusted the hair tie slightly and you felt your knees go even weaker and you began to fidget.

How could someone look so good with merely any effort?

 Despite the black sweats being loose they hugged his thighs flatteringly and the curve of his butt strained the fabric ever so slightly.

 The music started at low volume and Taehyung let out a little cheer of excitement before turning it up.

 Just vibing... you'd done that tons of times but Taehyung was making you nervous even when in your own element.

 He walked over and took place by your side with a chuckle.

Was he blushing?

 "I really like this song." He pointed out and moved side to side in tune to the song.

He felt a little awkward and it was noticeable by how his shoulders were suddenly a lot closer to his ears.

 "I do an 8, you do an 8 and so on?" You suggested.

"Sure! After you." He smile and gestured forwards towards you.

 It didn't take long until you both felt more comfortable and warmed up, daring to show off more advanced moves and triggering an impromptu dance battle between you.

 Taehyung was laughing and cheering, as well as you.

"Yeah!" He yelled, jumping on the spot.

Eventually it came to a pause as you both became pretty exhausted and needed to catch your breaths.

 Taehyung ran over to grab his water bottle and you took the opportunity to stretch your legs for a few seconds.

He jogged back towards you, but this time he stopped a lot closer to you.

You natural response would've been to taken a step back but you yelled at yourself internally "don't you dare move back!"

 His chest was moving up and down... the skin of his neck shimmering from the sweat starting to form... and his top only clinging to him tighter...

 Fuck...

 "So, do you have any ideas or any concept you'd like to go for? I was thinking last night and I thought of a concept that I think might be cool but of course if you disagree we'll make something up together!" Taehyung rambled, his fingers intertwined and fidgeting.

 ("Her... her nipples are peaking through the fabric...." he swallowed. "Her leggings are as tight around her thighs like her invisible grip of me is... don't stare! Don't look Taehyung! Show some respect!")

 "I like what we were feeling in the vibe, we could implement some of those steps for the chorus, considering they're beginners we need to keep it somewhat simple, but also spicy." You said eagerly

 "True! But, should we perhaps... pick a song first?"

"Yes of course! But I want to hear about your concept idea."

 You were feeling a lot more comfortable all of a sudden.

 "Well..." Taehyung began and walked over towards the stereo. "I got the idea while listening to this song yesterday..." He explained and put it on.

  The concept as well as the song was right up your street and you strongly supported Taehyung suggested, earning a shy proud grin from the man.

 Time flies fast when you have fun they say, and indeed it did. You managed to get a chorus segment "sketch" down and recorded it before moving on to just vibing and having fun again.

 --

 Taehyung's playful energetic soul was magnetic.

The way he twisted and turned, freestyled and became one with the music mesmerized you.

Going from a serious expression and aggressive freestyle to breaking into a bubbly giggle to then talk serious as he expressed his smart ideas...

 Yes... yes maybe... just maybe... he was tugging a little (a lot) at your heart strings...

Not only did he look good and move good... but he was good.

A good boy.

 You chuckled for yourself, accidently grabbing Taehyung's attention from where he was stood by the stereo.

 He smiled.

 Suddenly the music was cut off as Taehyung switched the music.

 You knew this song...

This was a Kizomba song!

 Taehyung jogged back towards you, jamming playfully to the music.

 Suddenly your heart shot up from your chest to your throat as Taehyung's hand landed by your lower back and the other grabbed your arm.

"Teach me." He said playfully.

 Your heart was racing, pounding, everything all at once.

   Taehyung took a step back and you caught on to follow his attempt to lead.

Your hand grabbed his hand and with the other you took the opportunity to feel over his shoulder before placing it against his shoulder blade.

 "You- you have to be a lot closer to me." You pointed out. The words came out less stuttered than you feared they had.

 He did as told and you moved closer as well, closing off the space between you by almost 100%.

 You readjusted his position slightly.

"Keep your knees bent when you move and for now, just follow my lead and follow the sway of my hips and match me."

Taehyung nodded, suddenly appearing a little less confident.

 ("Match the sway of her ...hips?")

 "Walk forward slowly" you instructed and began to sway in simple motions to allow him to keep up.

"Relax your shoulders more."

You stopped him, doing some stationary steps and allowing him to get more of a feel for it."

Your hips moved gracefully and he attempted to match your movements with the sway of his own while his hand pressed firmly against your lower back.

"You're doing good"

"You look really good- when you dance I mean." He chuckled shyly, gripping your hand tighter.

Did he really just say that?

"Walk sideways for me, crossing your right foot in front."

 He did as he was told the best he could and you took a step apart from him to allow yourself to walk straight along the side of him seemingly leading you.

His eyes were focused on you.

You quickly twisted back and felt his hand press your closer as you did.

 Taehyung naturally took the lead.

He walked you backwards with a focused expression.

You forgot about the fact that you were meant to instruct him as you got caught up in the chemistry the two of you had together.

 Your eyes had found his chin as a focus point... but first now you dared to face him properly and look into his eyes.

His lips were slightly parted and he was looking down at you with a serious concentrated expression, so different from his usual trademark smile.

 The song faded out and changed to a new more upbeat one.

 "Try taking more dramatic determined steps." You suggested in a soft spoken voice.

You threw a glance at the mirror, feeling your heart beat catch on again at the sight of the two of you dancing together.

 Taehyung tried his best to experiment and lead you in a circle, making you giggle and allowing for him to glance in the mirror himself.

At the sight you could feel him adjust his hold and his posture.

His hips moved with more confidence.

 "You're doing really good." You encouraged again.

"It's easy to dance with you."

"Maybe we're a good match... rhythmically."

"I think so too."

 You didn't want to stop dancing.

You could feel his lean back with your hand and had to hold back to not allow it to smooth over the area sensually... which of course would've added to the dance but what if it was too.... obvious?

 Taehyung had other plans… Unable to hold back much longer…

He let go of you, parting ways and headed towards the light switch.

He turned on the colorful spotlights and turned off the bright large ones, setting the atmosphere even more as the room got darker.

He returned to you, expression still serious but hands more confident than before.

His hands travelled up under your loose shirt shyly, caressing your sides gently.

As his touch travelled higher his confidence grew and he dared to press his exploring hands firmer against your skin.

A fear of being pushed away lingered  in him but your sudden touch reassured him that what he was doing was welcome as your hand reached up and caressed his cheek, eyes not breaking the gaze for longer than it took to blink.

 Your heart made itself known, pounding harder and different… not like when you had danced to the point of exhaustion but an exciting and anxious pounding.

 His hands travelled back down, following your curves like he was studying a statue. Slow and sensual until they stopped on your hips and gripped firmer.

 The music was bouncing between the walls in the room, filling the atmosphere with more ecstasy.

 Taehyung turned you slowly, leading.

He walked you back towards the mirror, leaning closer with his lips slightly parted and hooded eyes.

His forehead touched yours, nose tips accidently brushing against each other.

 Your back suddenly pressed against the cold reflective surface and Taehyung’s hand pressed against the mirror next to your head.

 Your blood was on fire.

What were you hoping he would do next?

Were you even aware of what you wished for?

Aware of how you impulsively leaned up as he leaned in, lips touching shyly before pressing greedily against each other causing you both to melt and give in to the other shamelessly.

With your hands behind his head, you pulled him closer to you and his hand caressed your cheek as you tasted the other’s need on each other’s lips, fueling the lust filled desire suppressed between you even more.

 It felt like a “finally” moment, deep connection finally confessing and giving into the irresistible magnetic pull.

 His lips, so soft and greedy yet so gentle and desperate at the same time… you could taste the need he had held confined and it’s sweet flavor was addictive.

It was the flavor you had been so desperate to taste for so long and finally gave in to, giving him the same sweet flavor in return that he too had craved for just as long.

 Your hand tangled into his long hair as the other fell to his shoulder, eager to explore the rest of him, but still so shy.

 Taehyung pressed his body firmly against yours, feeling your soft chest press against his strong.

With a hand that failed to resist he felt up your bare skin again, beneath your top and firmly squeezed your left breast through your sports bra, causing you to slip a moan against the kiss.

 With a slight tilt of his head he deepened the kiss, massaging and feeling your breast while his other hand found its way back to your hip.

 His touch was eager and desperately curious… taking full advantage of the moment to feel you and touch you as he pleased. The way your body and touch responded to his only made the raging fire within him spread and he could feel how he grew hard.

 “I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so long.” He confessed in the heat of the moment.

“You touch me like this in my dreams every night.”

 He groaned softly, unable to resist the need for friction and grinding up against you.

He was a whole different version of himself, set free.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” He whispered, grinding firmer.

“You hope I do don’t you?” You teased, sliding a hand up under his shirt, feeling up his lean back.

“I think of you.”

 Your cheeks burned, reminded of the countless shameless times you had given yourself permission to use his name when you were alone since you first laid eyes on him.

“I do…”

 “I want you so fucking bad.”

 Hearing a man who barely cursed, curse for once was a whole new type of arousing experience… especially with that deep voice of his.

 You could feel his desperation press firmly against your thigh, making you bite your lip as your thighs pressed together firmer.

 His lips brushed gently against your ear, letting out another low whisper.

“Do you want me?”

He sounded a little insecure, almost innocent.

“Can I have you?” He asked, voice slightly shaken.

 “I’m already yours.”

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

“Ssh, I want this more than anything.”

 He smiled.

 His delicate hands grabbed the hem of your top, pulling it up and off your head, tossing it to the side and reaching for the hem of his own.

Exposing the shimmering golden hue of his skin when he pulled it up, revealing his broad chest and toned shoulders and tossing it to the floor as well.

 His hands landed on your hips, forehead touching yours again like a secret form of greeting between the two of you. Exchanging eager smiles before your lips crashed against each other again.

 The rhythm of the music guided your hands, sensually feeling up his bare upper body and caressing their way back down to the hem of his sweats.

Taehyung’s fingers slid in under the hem of your sports bra, pushing it up over your chest, exposing your breasts with a gentle bounce and pulling it up over your head.

His hands cupped them both, squeezing gently, pushing your arousal further to the edge, giving you the final boost of confidence needed.

 He wanted you, was desperate to feel and touch… to love.

 Your hands pushed his sweats further down his hips, along with his underwear.

He replied by hooking his thumbs in under the hem of your tight leggings, pulling them down over your backside and down your thighs greedily.

 A thin trail of black stubble trailed from his navel further south.

You pushed his sweats and boxers over his hips, allowing them to slip from your grip and fall down his sculpted legs, exposing him.

You broke free from the intoxicating kiss briefly to look down but his hand was quick to cup your chin and tilt it back up so his tongue could dive back in.

 He flinched when he felt your touch as your hand caressed up his thick length.

 Your leggings fell to the floor and you quickly stepped out of them, kicking them away.

 The music consumed you again, and with his hand on your hips you couldn’t resist but dance with him a little more.

Taehyung smiled against the kiss, swaying with you playfully for a while before sliding a hand into your panties, catching you off guard as his fingers brushed over your clit.

 You wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his cock, causing him to wince and started jerking him off teasingly slow.

 His weakness was obviously your touch.

The way he responded to it, immediately greedy for more, reassuring you that you made him feel more than just good.

 His free hand pulled your panties down with slight aggression and successfully got them to slide down your legs to be kicked away by you, landing by his sweats somewhere on the floor behind him.

 You stroked him faster, caressing the back of his neck with your free hand, making him unable to escape from the heated kiss.

 His left fingers teased at your nipple while the right were getting soaked by the wetness between your thighs. He slid his hand up and down against your lowers a few times before stopping and teasing his middle finger against your entrance, triggering anticipation.

 You inhaled sharply as his finger greedily pushed into you, curling.

Your lips parted and his nose brushed comfortingly against the side of your face with a gentle hum of pleasure.

 “Floor or mirror?” He asked, pushing his finger in deeper.

“F-floor.” You stuttered, exhaling shakily and squeezing him tighter.

 His finger slipped out, arms wrapping around you strongly and sliding down along your body as he kneeled.

He pressed a gentle kiss against your tummy, looking up at you with big dark eyes.

 You kneeled and before you knew it your back hit the floor with Taehyung above you, between your thighs.

He took a moment to admire the view beneath him before hooking your thigh over his hip.

 Your eyes focused on his beautiful face, studying his features up close as you reached to cup his cheeks.

You felt how he dragged the tip of his dick up between your soft folds, then down, repeating the motion, making your desperation become unbearable.

 “Ready?”

You nodded.

 He pressed the tip firmly against your entrance, pushing in with a strained expression as his hands squeezed your waist.

He whimpered, pushing in further.

The tip slid in, big as he was you felt a stretch, but it felt nothing but good.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned, pushing in halfway and causing you to moan.

 Taehyung shifted slightly, lowering himself above you, supporting himself on his forearms as he pushed in deeper, sliding in all the way.

He kissed your lips and looked to the side, seeing your reflection in the mirror of the dimly lit room.

 He pulled back slightly, pushing back in gently but deep and nuzzled by your neck.

Your hands caressed his back as he repeated the move, gently warming you up, moving his hips at a gentle pace. His smirk had pleasure written all over it and the expression along with the gentle soft sighs made you feel even more drawn to him.

“You feel so good…” He confessed, whispering.

So did he…

The deep penetration, the soft gentle thrusts causing your wetness to leak around him as you clenched tightly around his thick dick, earning another groan from him.

He moved his hips back further, pulling out a little more than half way and thrusted back in. Your head leaned back and his lips latched on to your neck briefly, sucking a faint mark as his hips began to move with more power and greed.

Hums of pleasure were exchanged, gentle whispers of each other names and sweet blissful moans.

You turned your head to the side and was met by the reflection. Two dark silhouettes, one on top of the other, hips thrusting against the other, pushing deeper and harder, making you feel better than best within.

Whatever dance the two of you were performing together, it was highly intoxicating. There was no concern about being heard, no concern about being interrupted. It was only you and him and the sweet sounds between you featuring the sensual music. The feeling of his dick pushing into you, stretching you and rubbing up against every sweet secret spots within.

The connection you had was strong, whatever had brought you together for this very moment felt like something unavoidable, something long planned by fate herself, shaping the two of you apart to fit together perfectly once you met.

You felt more drawn to him than to anyone before and everything felt so natural and so right… so destined…

 Taehyung let out a loud moan as he suddenly snapped his hips harder against you.

He went faster, picking up his pace and adding even more passion, biting his lower lip hard.

He was breathing heavily, your hand tangled in his hair as he took it all out.

Whatever frustrations tortured his beautiful mind, whatever stress he felt.

 You pulled him down towards you, enough for you to reach his lips for passionate kiss. But he quickly parted, struggling to breathe properly.

“I- I’m going to cum…” He whimpered, going harder and faster.

His grip grew tighter, groans louder and moves fueled by even more desperation.

Your hand reached down to rub against your clit as you felt yourself nearing your limit too.

If you weren’t alone, whoever was still around would have definitely heard the loud moan that escaped Taehyung’s throat.

“Fuck…! You drive me fucking crazy.” He groaned, holding on tightly as if to hinder you from escaping even though you weren’t going to go anywhere unless it was with him.

You arched your back, squirming softly as your muscles tensed, nearing your climax.

His lips pressed to your ear, panting.

“Say my name.” He begged. “Say my name baby.”

He thrusted deeper and you slipped his name in a soft whimper, making him feel almost high.

He hummed, followed by a deep “yes” when your body suddenly released.

You whimpered, tugging at his hair and touching yourself desperately as your body gave in, clenching tightly and releasing in an explosive manner around him.

He quickly pulled out and pushed himself up on his knees, jerking himself off.

His head leaned back, extending his luscious neck to the point of veins showing before he came with a deep grunt, squirting his release on your lower abdomen.

His chest was moving rapidly with his breathing as his hand slowed down, milking him of the final drops of his own orgasm. Exhausted and full of bliss he fell on top of you with a wide smile, needy for your embrace.

With ease he rolled the two of you over on the floor for you to rest on top of his glowing body as you both calmed down.

A new need took over, the need to just be close and cuddle, to hear his rapid heartbeat as it began to calm down, to feel his hands caress your back lovingly before he helped you up and helped you get dressed.

But for now you just remained on the floor, questioning nothing and resting in each other’s embrace.

[lady-maria-the-wolf225]

Mikey x Fem! reader ch: 2 & 3 (combined)

(Y/N) had no idea who that stranger was. Despite the dangers ahead, she doesn't care much about that. She couldn't stop thinking about those hands however. She has never seen anyone with three fingers in her whole life. Other than that, she wants answers. With a boost of confidence, instead of going home, staying out late should be a breeze. In her opinion to be exact. It was the next morning, and she grabbed some extra food and soda to help her stay up all night as much as possible. School is the same as yesterday. Thankfully she wasn't given any homework today either. She met up with her friends at an after school club and hopes she doesn't forget what she has to do afterwards. After the club has ended, it's time for her to find the mystery stranger.

(Y/N)'s P.O.V

I was walking around trying to find the figure. It was very quiet as usual. There was no sign of anything....nothing. Just myself. I sighed thinking to myself if I would just give up, but I chose not to. I kept on walking far and wide into the streets. That is until I found it. The figure.....it was standing before me. But why? Whatever it may be, I do feel a bit uneasy. Without saying a word, the figure runs off quickly. I decided to follow it. I ran to its direction as fast as I could. When It got to a corner of a random street, it stopped. I hid in a corner of a wall that way it won't see me. I waited for the figure to make its move. That's when it jumped into a sewer. "A sewer? B-but why would- *sigh*. Who am I kidding?" I walked towards the sewer area. I know I couldn't get in that way because the lid itself is too heavy to lift. I looked around to see if there may be a second entrance to it. And I did. There was a rectangular hole that seemed big enough for me to squeeze in. I took off my backpack, and managed to enter. I grabbed my bag, and started to walk into the sewer line. It was really dark so I had to take out my phone to turn on the flashlight. I kept on walking until I fell into a slide like area. I was sliding downward screaming but laughing at the same time. It was kinda fun, it almost felt like one of those water slides you go on in a local water park. I landed on my ass which kinda hurt. "Ouch!" I rubbed it, and got up immediately. There are so many sewer pipes, I couldn't figure out where the figure may be, so I decided to go straight. It was a long path to get through. Just as I felt like I may be close, I heard footsteps. No. more than just footsteps. A skateboard too? I started to panic a bit but managed to find a sewer pipe large enough for my tiny body to fit. I hid in there, and waited for whoever was coming straight ahead. What I saw, made me wonder. There was.....four creatures running passed me. "Hey guys! Wait up!" said the fourth mysterious figure trying to get its skateboard running. What's weird, is that it has rockets on it. Plus, I can't even see the person at all. Just a silhouette. "Come on Mikey! We got some foot clan butt to kick!" another one said in the distance "okay okay! Calm down Raph! It's not the end of the world you know!" it rode away with the others and the sound soon went to silence. I slowly got out, and decided to keep walking "that was.....Fucking weird." I said to myself trying to figure out who those people were. I walked a couple more steps until I found this strange looking door. Well technically it's not a door per say. I noticed it was slightly opened. I looked back for a quick moment to see if no one else was around. The coast is clear thank god. I slowly opened the strange yet mysterious entrance, and revealed some kind of lair. It's weird that a lair is located in a sewer. I also noticed The height of the entrance from here all the way to the ground does seem a little high. So basically I had to jump down like as if i'm in an action movie. I took a deep breath and counted to three. "one.....two.....Three!" I jumped and managed to land on my backpack since it's on my back obviously. I got up and stared at the place. "Woah!...." I walked around, and it had crazy technology, bedrooms, exercise weights, and a ramp for I'm guessing skateboard tricks like the ones you see at a local park. I looked around and noticed there was a sleeping rat in one of the rooms. A huge rat to be exact. I almost made a single sound after it scared me. But thankfully my words were stuck down to my throat. I sighed in relief that it didn't wake up at all. Guess it's a heavy sleeper. I walked around some more, and the bedrooms have doors. The same exact shape as the one where I entered the place. I entered one of them and noticed a small TV with a PS2 and DVD player sitting there. The room was kind of a mess too. It was littered with pizza boxes and candy wrappers. Gross. In the corner of the room, there was a mini fridge with a pack of Orange Crush Soda hidden in the back of it. After taking a look at that, I checked at the condition of the TV and PS2. surprisingly, they were in good shape. Even the DVD player is too. The TV is an early 2000s model. Old, but still good. I turned both of them on, and they work. "Oh. neat" I smiled a bit and I made the decision to play with it. I slowly and quietly closed the strange door, and took out one of my old games I always played in my childhood. "I haven't played Sonic Unleashed in a while. Might as well go ahead and play for a bit." I turned down the volume as low as possible so I didn't wake up the strange rat, and started playing. An hour in a half passed, and I started to get tired. Although I did eat a few of my snacks and since I ran out of drinks I ended up drinking some of the orange crush soda from the back of the mini fridge, I kept on yawning. Since I'm too lazy to head home, I might as well just spend the night here. I paused the game, and ended up falling asleep on the nice bed. It's kinda nice here. Quiet, no interruptions, a nice spot to play some games and have some time for myself. I just hope nothing goes wrong at all.

end of P.O.V The Mysterious heroes who are actually turtles have returned home to the sewers and one of them spoke. "Sensei! We're back!" the rat was meditating and no longer sleeping. "Where have you four been?" The turtle with the blue bandana named Leonardo spoke "we had another foot clan attack. We managed to stop them on time." The rat sighed. "Did anyone see you? Anyone at all?" they all shook their heads. "No Sensei. We got away as quickly as we could." The rat nodded and responded. "Good. you may all rest now my sons. We have a big day tomorrow." they all looked at each other. "What day is it?" Leonardo asked. "Training day." they all groaned and the rat chuckles. "Now go. I must concentrate." they all went to their rightful rooms and the youngest of the four named Michelangelo stretched his arms and fiddled with his orange bandana. "I'm gonna go on ahead and play me some video games!" as he got to his room, he noticed the TV was on along with the game system. "Huh? Hey wait a second! I don't remember playing this game at all!" He removes the game disc from the system, and yells out to one of his brothers. "Raph! Were you messing with my game system again!? And where did you get this game!? Did you rent it or something!?" The red bandana turtle named Raphael comes into the room. "What? No! What are you talking about? Lemme see that!" he takes the game disc from him and takes a look at it. "You serious? Do I look like the kind of guy who likes playing as a blue furry that runs like the flash?" Mikey stares at him in an irritating way as his own brother tosses the game disc across the room. He looks down and notices the empty cans of soda on the floor and looks back up at Raph. Raph himself was now getting angry. "You hid a stack of orange crush soda from me without even telling me!?" Mikey starts to get angry too. "Yes I did! And don't lie to me! I know YOU found them, and did this for a good laugh!" Mikey and Raph argue back and forth until they stopped when they notice movement in Mikey's bed. "What was that?...." Raph pushes him out of the way, and takes out one of his weapons. "Stand back." He grabs the sheets, and snatches them out of the way and sees (Y/N) sleeping. They both stood back as Raph dropped his weapon in complete shock. "How- what-.....where-?....oh god there's a g- a gi-..." he couldn't speak and they both looked at each other and ran out of the room in a panic. "Donnie! Leo!" they both yelled as the other two were busy doing their thing. "What? What happened?" Donatello said as he adjusted his glasses and purple bandana. "There's a g-girl in my room! And a- and uh R-Raph almost killed her on my own bed! And-" Donnie stopped Mikey. "woah woah woah! Slow down! You're saying there's a girl in your room?" Mikey nodded frantically. Leo shows up eventually and spoke to them. "what are they talking about?" Donnie responds to him with a sigh. "it appears they saw a human girl in Mikey's bed." Leo looks at them and takes a deep breathe "show me. Now!" they take them to the bed, and see (Y/N) still asleep. They all looked at her and Donnie started analyzing her. "Okay. according to my analysis, she is 18 years of age, 5'0 feet tall, 125 pounds, (H/C), (E/C), and somehow it shows me her uhh.....cup size. They're quite an impressive size for a young adult if you ask me. Wish it didn't scan them though." the other three's eyes lit up when they heard that word "cup size huh? What is that?" Mikey asked. Donnie whispers to them what cup sizes are, and they widened their eyes in surprise. Mikey blushes bright red. "Aaaaand I am now questioning my own innocence, thank you very much." Raph smirks giving his younger brother a noogie "all right Mikey! Our own little bro's first lesson in becoming a man! Woo!" Mikey playfully pushes him off shaking his head smiling. "tch. whatever bruh." Donnie finishes analyzing, and looks at Leo. "what shall we do?" Leo looks at the girl and sighs "well uhhh-" Mikey interrupts him jumping up and down excitedly "Can we keep her? I promise to take good care of her! please?" Raph and Donnie facepalms, and Leo looks at Mikey with a long pause, then proceeds to speak. "We'll might as well let her stay for the night. But we're taking her back home tomorrow!" Mikey squeals excitedly "Yes!" Leo then talks again "and one more thing! If Master Splinter finds out, we gotta tell the truth. But first when she wakes up, we gotta know how she got here. First thing in the morning before our training day starts. Got it?" Mikey nods. "Oh yeah! Totally. Yeah...." Leo nods. "Good. come on guys. We gotta go to bed. Sensei wants tomorrow to be on point. That goes for you too Mikey!" Mikey nods with a smile on his face "aye aye captain boss bro!" Raph looks at Mikey who is staring at (Y/N) "she's really pretty man." Raph nods "yeah. Never seen a girl like her before. Hopefully when she wakes up, we can have a nice chat with her." Mikey nods. "What about April? She's pretty too." Raph chuckles shaking his head "nah. She's too bland. Maybe this one may be a keeper." he winks with a daring smile. Mikey chuckles and Raph pats him on the back. "Well it's getting late. Night Mikey. See ya in the morning." Mikey looks at his brother as Raph leaves the room. "Night bro." Mikey decides to sleep on the floor and hopes this girl may be the one for him. Despite that, in his heart, he can feel it beating like a steady drum right now which means it's love at first sight for him. TO BE CONTINUED!....chapter 4 and 5 are next soon! :)

[eryiss]

Chapter One - The House

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. It ended up becoming a multi-chapter, and I thought the first chapter should go up today, as a holloween gift. The next one will be published on thursday, and will continue on weekly.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter One – The House

Freed hadn't expected his mother's death to be so tedious.

He should probably feel more emotional about it. He and his mother had no ill-will towards one another – there was no tragic secret nor history of arguing or abuse between them – but he found himself oddly unbothered by hearing of her death. Not a numbness of any kind either, he felt very much the same as if a colleague had told him their mother had passed. It was just an event that had happened, and something that affected his life, but not his emotions.

His apathy probably came from the fact he and his mother hadn't spoken for years. Again, not for any great reason, just because they didn't. He and his father had always been closer, and when he had died four years prior, Freed had grieved and got over it as best a person can. His mother was the worker of the family, and thus the emotional relationship hadn't been as strong. Neither had made an effort to connect in their adulthood, only really linked by his father. And so once he had passed, there wasn't really any reason to speak. Neither person was overly emotional, so they didn't seek comfort in one another's arms, and instead just drifted off.

And so, the death of his mother was tedious.

Death was followed by a lot of things. The need to plan a funeral, people being completely unaware of how to act around him, and an odd amount of pity coming from people who didn't know him at all. Freed was something of a pragmatist, and as such it became an experience he didn't want to repeat. At least with the death of his father, he'd had his sadness to distract him. But this was just, well… tedious.

Perhaps the worse thing to have happened occurred two days prior. As was customary after someone passes, there was a reading of the will. A pointless exercise for this instance, given Freed had literally inherited everything. Freed knew this already – he was his family's lawyer for god's sake, he drafted the damned thing – but he still had to attend the reading. So, for an hour in a busy work week, he was forced to travel down two floors in his building, and sit there while another lawyer – Natsu Dragneel, who had actually interned under Freed for a year – explained the law and what the will meant. To the man who had taught him it!

Further adding to the annoyance of the situation, almost everything he'd inherited had strings attached. There was a lot of debt, from both loans and gambling, apparently. Freed's credit score was going to take a hit, given how much there was. There were also her belongings, which he would have to look through at some point. She also apparently owned property, which was now his.

This would be good, had it not been for its location. Freed's life was centred in the city, this house was in the middle of the countryside, miles from what Freed considered civilisation. Why she had owned a house there was beyond Freed, she was more metropolitan than him; she lived in Era and Era alone. But unfortunately, now it was his.

So now, he was nearing the end of a three-and-a-half-hour train ride.

He was going to sell the place, of course. Why his mother hadn't done so confused Freed, given her debts. Property values were high in this area, many rich older people wanted to retire there, and a three-bedroom cottage was perfect for that. But he needed to see it, speak with estate agents, and sign away the rights. All in all, tedious.

When he got off the train, he was hit by how different it was to Era. It was open, the air smelt different and it looked like an illustration from a Victorian romance novel. All very idyllic, but Freed had no intention of staying long enough to appreciate it. Instead, he located the taxi service, and ordered a car to his new property.

Apparently Uber hadn't arrived there yet.

The car came soon enough, and after a few failed attempts to illicit more than a curt answer from Freed, it was a quiet ride. It took about forty minutes, and Freed watched as fields passed by, the atmosphere dampened by the scent of manure filling the air. People raved about the fresh air in the countryside, but Freed much preferred the smell of petrol and faint piss of Era to literal crap. Better the devil you know.

Thankfully, the smell of muck spreading was interrupted when his phone lit up. He glanced at the contact name – 'Estate Agent' – before lifting it to his ear and accepting the call. He needed an evaluation for the property, and apparently this man was the best in the area. Hopefully the fastest too.

"Mr Clive," He greeted, leaning back.

"Mr Justine," The estate agent replied in a more jovial tone. "Just to let you know, I'm at the property and waiting for you. There's been a few evaluations over the years and they're all pretty similar, so it shouldn't take long."

"Thank you," Freed nodded to himself, glancing past the front seat to see the GPS saying they should be at their destination in about five minutes. "I'll be there soon."

"Great," Gildarts' grin was audible in his tone. "Sorry that you had to come down here to deal all of this."

"It's not your fault," Freed said placatingly, though not honestly. "The sooner it's done, the better."

"Couldn't agree more," Gildarts grinned.

"Why had it been evaluated before?" Freed asked, brows furrowing slightly.

"Apparently your mother has tried to sell it a few times. Twice with independent online stores, and once with an estate agent. Clearly it didn't go well," The man laughed. "But we'll be more successful. We know what we're doing."

After some pointless pleasantries, the call was ended. Freed found himself frowning; a cottage in this area should have been sold without any difficulty. The fact this one hadn't, despite its perfect position and seemingly positive qualities, didn't bode well. He tried to be optimistic, but at this point, it was almost certain that even selling the house would further add to his annoyances.

It was ten minutes later – it took longer than expected because he got caught up in traffic caused by a heard of cows crossing from one field to the other, followed by an uncaring farmer who glared at the taxi as if it were an affront to his lifestyle – when he saw the house.

It was clear as to why his mother couldn't sell it.

The place was practically derelict. In its prime it would have been the ideal village cottage, with white walls and a slated roof. It would have had a garden filled with perfectly trimmed flowers, a large but well-groomed oak tree, and most likely a cliché dog running around. Unfortunately, the house's prime was clearly centuries ago because it embodied the world decapitated in a way Freed had never seen. The roof was falling apart, the garden filled with so many overgrown plants nothing else could be seen, and a window was hanging out of the wall. It was unliveable, and practically unlovable.

Perfect. His mother had left him debt, three wardrobes filled with wrinkled clothes, and a building nobody could use without a death wish. Now his hopes of selling the place was unrealistic.

As he approached the building, a man made his presence known by leaving a car with a smile on his face. He was older than Freed, in his late forties if Freed was being kind, and he gave a polite 'Hello' as he approached. It was clearly the estate agent, who was showing a lot more optimism than Freed felt at that moment.

"Mr Justine, nice to meet you in person," He greeted.

"Likewise," Freed nodded, though his tone didn't reflect the sentiment. Gildarts laughed.

"I can see from your face that you were expecting something a little… different," The man chuckled, and Freed found himself annoyed by the man's enthusiasm. "You probably thought it'd be a little more liveable, didn't ya?"

"Something like that," Freed agreed, looking at the building almost accusingly.

"Well if it's any kind of relief, the building's structure is actually very secure. I won't lie, there's probably hundreds of problems going on in there, but at least the roof isn't going to collapse on our heads," The agent laughed, and in any other situation it might be less grating. "I can explain the details as we look through it, I'm sure that you want to get this done quickly."

"If that's possible."

Gildarts nodded, then jogged back to his car. When he returned, he was holding two hardhats that one would see on a building site, and Freed looked at it warily. Gildarts smiled and patted him on the shoulder with an unneeded amount of strength.

"The roof itself won't fall, but there's always a chance that the ceiling tiles might, so we can't be too careful, can we?" He chuckled loudly, placing on his hat, and walking into the building. Freed, after a moment of hesitation, joined him.

~~~

"So, you're sayi-" A small scratch. "-basically unsellable."

Freed ground his teeth together slightly. He was pacing down a village high-street, holding his phone to his ear and trying his best to listen to Evergreen's stuttering voice. Apparently random country roads were perfectly fine with phone signals; but for the most built up area for miles, it was practically impossible to have a conversation without some kind of interference. It was something very quickly grating on his nerves.

"Essentially, yes," Freed sighed, sidestepping a couple walking towards him. "It's too run down for anyone to want to buy it. My estate agent said the best thing to do is to see if a property auction will take it and sell it cheap."

"Why don't you-" Another scratching sound. "-it down. Sell the land-" A quick, high pitched noise. "-farmer or property developer."

Freed's muscles tenses slightly at the suggestion. He had thought about that, but of course when he had told Gildarts that it was the logical course of action, the man had looked at him with something akin to pity in his eyes. He had then patted the man on the shoulder – again making Freed's body jerk slightly with the power behind the action – and added another layer of annoyance to this ridiculous situation.

"Apparently it's a listed building, and has some kind of historical preservation status," Freed sighed, slowing slightly when the buzzing on the phone went quiet. Hopefully, he had a stronger signal now. "Essentially meaning, the building has to stay."

"If it's so important, why did they let it get so run down?" Evergreen asked, voice clear now.

"They didn't, my mother has been receiving phone calls and letters from local council about it for years," Freed wiped at his eye with his free hand, deflating slightly. "Which I will now be getting, I suppose. Along with the letters and phone-calls from debt collectors, no doubt."

"How much would it sell for as it is?"

"Optimistically, 25 thousand. Since you can't make any modifications to the outer building, something in this state is hard to get customers for."

It wasn't anywhere near enough to cover his mother's debts, even when combined with the savings he was unwilling to give up. Though a successful corporate lawyer and having saved a substantial part of his earning for over ten years, Freed was by no means rich. His family came from money, but never gave any to him as they wished for him not to be spoiled. So far it hadn't mattered, but now with six figures of debt from nowhere, his comfortable life seemed unstable. This wasn't helped by the fact he only wanted to use his savings as a last resort; he'd saved this money for himself, not to give to online casinos because of his mother's apparent addiction.

"Couldn't you make it a bit more marketable," Evergreen suggested, and Freed found himself irrationally irritated by the chewing he heard. They were colleagues, and he knew that her lunch break wasn't for another hour. "Tidy it up slightly."

"It's not run down, it's unliveable," Freed grunted. "The windows are boarded up, the garden practically a jungle, bare floorboards, furniture that is practically rotting, and a bird had nested on the oven."

"Maybe plant some flowers and bake a cake when showing people around," Evergreen joked, and Freed almost laughed.

He couldn't resent his mother. He did love her, and perhaps if he had made some kind of effort in talking to her then maybe the debts wouldn't have happened because she could talk to him about her gambling. Of course that regret was pointless now, thinking about what he could have done wouldn't change anything. He just had to deal with the consequences.

"You'll figure something out," Evergreen spoke up again.

"I know," Freed nodded. "But I'm not quite sure exactly how, yet."

"Well, I've just checked, and there's a nice-looking hotel near you," Evergreen smiled, and Freed could hear the clicking of a computer mouse through his speakers. "All good reviews, apparently a brilliant kitchen and very nice staff."

"Good for them," Freed said with furrowed brows.

"I've booked you a room," Evergreen declared, clearly grinning. Freed went to speak but Ever went first. "You're staying there for a week. You can either spend it thinking what to do next with your house, or just have a nice break, which you're overdue. Climb one of the mountains or something. I'll have a suitcase sent down with everything you need."

"No," Freed said firmly.

"I don't believe I gave you a choice, dear," Evergreen smiled. "And I've already paid for it. If you stay, consider it a gift. And if you don't, you'll be in even more debt, and I'm much worse than any bailiff you can think of, and we share an office, so I will make your life miserable."

"You're both blackmailing and threatening me," Freed grunted. "I could technically sue you for workplace harassment."

"Yeah, but you're my lawyer so you'd have to argue with yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Which you could, you've got an ego big enough you probably crop up on those reddit pages about people who think they're really smart," Freed let out an indignant sound at that, and Ever just laughed. "Just take some time off, you know you have to have a week off eventually. Why not just do it now? Enjoy the countryside, smell the fresh air, read a book."

"I read constantly, the fresh air is laden with the scent of literal shit, and so far the countryside is a pointless expanse of green that makes me want to take on more cases against environmentalists."

"Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Find your hotel, get yourself a drink, and relax for a week."

After a second of consideration, and a deflated sigh, Freed spoke again. "What's the hotel called."

"Fairy Tail Inn," Evergreen read aloud. "Sounds a bit cliché, but the rooms look great and the reviews are all good. Should be at one end of the high street, at the top of the hill."

Freed looked back over his shoulder, he had walked past the hotel in his search for a reliable amount of signal. He hadn't paid it much attention, as it was at the start of the conversation and he'd been attempting to understand any of what Evergreen was saying, but it looked nice enough. The only real reason he had actually remembered the place was because he was fairly sure they had mistaken the two spellings of the word Tail. He started to walk back up the steep high-street, telling Evergreen that he knew where the place was.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it then," Evergreen smiled, and the buzzing on the phone returned slightly. "See you in a week. Oh, and text me a picture of the house when you're tetchy so I can make fun of you. Bye!"

She cut herself off before Freed could reply, and the lawyer rolled his eyes slightly.

When he reached the top of the hill, he walked through a quaint beer garden and into the Fairy Tail building. He was confronted with a small front desk, behind which a woman with a light bob smiled up at him. He walked towards her, scanning the name tag – Lisanna – before she gave a polite introduction to the hotel.

"Are you here to eat, or to stay sir?" She asked, voice enthusiastic and happy.

"To stay," Freed explained. "I believe my friend just made a reservation for me. Freed Justine."

"One moment," She smiled, leaning down, and typing on the computer.

As she worked, Freed glanced around the lobby area. From the outside, the building had been incredibly rustic looking, and Freed had feared slightly that it was going to be as old fashioned and outdated inside as well. But it was contemporary, clean, and relatively nice. It was clear that it was made to look farmhouse-ish while keeping all the needed amenities, making a distinction from the branded hotels while also keeping to a high quality.

They had a few certificates hung on the walls, mainly hotel awards from different companies. There was also something proclaiming 'MAGNOLIA: Village of the Year 2019' in proud prominence. Freed vaguely wondered if this was something all businesses got, or if Fairy Tail was some kind of hub for the town.

"There you are," Lisanna said suddenly, and Freed turned back to her. "Room 17. If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you there. I can carry your bags if you'd like."

"I don't have any bags with me, actually," Freed said, and Lisanna looked at the floor with a frown to confirm his words. "This is rather impromptu, I'm afraid. I'm having a suitcase sent down here, I expect it'll be here tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," Lisanna smiled, though Freed could clearly see she was somewhat confused. "What brings you to Magnolia, if you don't mind me asking? We don't get many people here in autumn, you're our only guest actually."

"It's not for pleasure," Freed explained. "I inherited some property, and selling it isn't as easy as I thought, so I'll be here for a little while."

"Is that the Albion House?" She asked as they turned a corner.

"Yes," Freed answered a little slowly.

"Oh, sorry, that probably sounds a bit creepy that I know it so fast," She laughed. "It's just that news sort of travelled about it getting a new owner. It's been run down for a while, and people thought that maybe the new person would try and renovate it. But if you want to sell it then that's your choice of course, I hope it goes better than it did with your mother-" She stopped talking, and clearly looked uncomfortable. "Oh, I'm sorry. For your loss, and for that."

"You don't need to do that," Freed waved her off. "I'm not going to start crying at the sound of her name."

She looked relieved at his reaction, and Freed tried not to show a small scowl on his face. The young woman hadn't done anything wrong, but the fact she knew both the house and the fact his mother had died meant that other people knew as well. He had hoped that, at least for one week, he wouldn't have to deal with people knowing about his bereavement. Apparently he wasn't even going to be given this.

"Is the house important for some reason?" Freed asked as they climbed the stairs. "It's got historical preservation, and you said people were interested when they found out I own it."

"Not exactly," Lisanna smiled. "I think all the buildings in the town have that status, they want to make it look like it did when it was made. Personally, I think they do it because the council makes a lot of money from film shoots coming here," She laughed a little. "And we're a fairly small community, so news gets around. They were the same when it got sold last time, actually. They thought it'd get renovated too."

"So my mother wasn't the reason it looks like it does, then?"

"I've never seen it in a better state," Lisanna shrugged, before pausing in thought. "I think there's a painting of what it used to look like in your room. That's a coincidence."

She laughed to herself before continuing to walk, Freed following her. They walked through a few more corridors and up another staircase before they stopped at the old looking door of one of the rooms. Lisanna pulled a key from her pocket and opened the door, revealing the room that was to be Freed's home for the rest of the week. Freed walked in after, and looked around.

It was a nice room, also designed to look like it belonged in a farm house while still being relatively luxurious. It was on the smaller side, clearly Evergreen hadn't wanted to spend too much if the single bed was telling, but nice enough. A private bathroom, TV, and area for making drinks. It was essentially everything one could want from a hotel room. Although the fact that the slanted roof above the bed was low did make Freed pause; he would have to make sure not to bang his head when he awoke.

His eyes fell to a painting on the wall. Sure enough, there was an illustration of the house he'd been inside, only in a much better state. It looked rather homely.

"It's nice, isn't it," Lisanna smiled. "I think that's why people want to see it renovated. Just because it's nice."

"Well, perhaps soon it will be," Freed mused. "I'll most likely have to sell it to a retail auction, they often attract people looking for cheap property to work on, or so my estate agent said. So perhaps that'll happen."

"You don't sound enthusiastic about the idea?"

"I was hoping for more than an auction house would be willing to pay, I must admit," Freed sighed, still looking at the painting. "It's a last resort, but I doubt I'll find a better offer over the next week."

"You could renovate it and sell it when you're done?" Lisanna suggested.

"My knowledge of property development extends to the legal side only," Freed chuckled to himself. "If I were to try and work on it, there's a good chance I'd set it alight. I expect that doesn't align with the preservations society's rules."

"I suppose not," Lisanna laughed. "I should get back to the desk and leave you alone. Breakfast is served from six until twelve, you get it included in the price of the room. And if your bags come I'll bring them up for you, or have my brother do it since he's working the desk tomorrow If there's anything else you need, just call reception," She smiled. "And we hope you enjoy your stay."

Freed watched her leave, before standing alone in the room and letting himself decompress for the first time since he arrived.

Peculiarly, he found his gaze land on the painting.

[sincerelyreidburke]

ooh also 4 for Bri and Reid because I love them

Friends! Romans! Countrymen! ARE YOU READY for some good shit?!?! I say this because this is my very first time writing Reid/Bri! I mean, they’ve been in the background a few times in drama club stuff, but I’ve never actually gotten to focus on them. Toby enables me, because xe loves me.

“Who’s Bri?” Reid’s girlfriend!

In today’s episode of prompts, you will get a glimpse into Reid’s post-graduation life! If you want to read more about what’s in store for him after Kiersey, you can check out this post. And even this one, too, if you’d like.

Here, you’ll see a Reid two years removed from graduation and a little down on his luck. You also finally get to see inside his brain. *Slaps hood of Reid Burke* This bad boy can fit so much mental illness in him.

From this list of sappy prompts, which I am still accepting and filling as we speak!

4. “Shut up and kiss me.”

two years after (reid's) graduation | may

 Reid considers himself spectacularly efficient when it comes to fucking things up.

He knows this. Has always known it. He figures it’s a good thing to be self-aware, at least. He’s probably one of the more self-aware human beings to ever have a conscience, come to think of it, given the amount of time he spends policing his own every action. But still. There has to be some benefit in being so well aware of your own flaws that you can constantly predict your fuck-ups before they even happen. It’s like damage control when the damage hasn’t even set in.

Anyway. Reid knows he’s good at fucking up. But if there’s one thing he would really prefer not to fuck up, it’s Bri’s birthday.

Easier said than done.

When midnight strikes on the day she’s turning 24, he’s not even home, which is the first reason he feels guilty and useless. He’s at work, apron around his waist, tie done up too tight, sneaking glances at the clock across the room in between customers and refills. He wishes he had his phone on him, as the minute hand lines up with the second hand at the 12. He could at least text her. He could make up for the fact that he’s not there in person, to ring in the first moments of the day. But his phone is in the back, in his locker, because this is the best-paying place he works at, and he doesn’t want to risk his employment by getting caught with a phone by his manager. Or worse, a nosy customer, who will subsequently rat him out to his manager, and, well— yeah. Not to mention the fact that it’s usually so fast-paced in the bar that there’s no time to check your phone anyway.

The point is. He wishes he could text Bri. But he can’t. It’s probably for the best. She’s probably not even awake. It would actually be bad if she were awake. A healthy sleep schedule is something she deserves.

Actually, she deserves a lot. The entire world. A lot more than Reid has ever been able to give her, and there isn’t a day that goes by when his brain fails to remind him of that particular fuckup in his life thus far. But tonight, he shouldn’t think in huge terms. Tonight, he should just worry about her birthday.

Man, he wishes he were home in bed.

The strike of midnight, although it provides something to focus on, isn’t even the sign of his shift nearing an end, because the bar doesn’t close until 2:30, and the latter two and a half hours of work wind up passing by even more slowly than the beginning of his shift did. When he finally sees his last customer out, after last call, and he’s the only lonely, lingering person in the place— then, the end is in sight. He has closing chores ahead of him, but at least he doesn’t have to wait around to go home anymore.

It’s nothing that out of the ordinary, really, to be working this late. Between three jobs and sneaking in open mic nights between them any chance he can, he can’t remember the last time he had a night entirely off. Or a day, honestly, and tomorrow— or today, since it’s past midnight— isn’t any exception. He has the lunch shift at the street diner he works at, and the jury’s still out as to whether he’s going to bag his shift at the second bar he works at tomorrow night.

All of this is to say: he’s working a lot. Which is fine. Work means money, which means staying alive, especially with the New York cost of living he’s gotten used to since they moved here after graduation. It’s a necessary part of life. He just wishes life could stop, for one day, so he could do this right. So he could at least give her something, to make up for all the areas in life where he’s lacking. Where he’s an extremely underwhelming excuse for a future husband.

And, look— he did actually get her a present, so that’s not the issue here. It’s more the lack of time. It’s more the overwhelming sense that, despite her stability, despite the fact that she’s stuck with him for six years, he doesn’t deserve this patience, and that one day she might finally come to her senses and decide that she doesn’t feel like waiting around while he slums it in New York and tries to make it big, that she wants, like, a normal life, with a partner who makes a salary and a house or at least an apartment with more than one room and, like, basic predictability and success—

Ugh.

For now, for this very early morning, he won’t think about all of that, no matter how much it rings in his ears as he cleans up and closes the bar. For now, he just wants to make sure Bri has the most perfect morning possible. And to do that, he has a checklist.

Step one: finish work. He considers that done as he locks the front door of the bar, and steps out onto the street. It’s kind of breezy but not exactly cold out, since Bri’s birthday marks the last day of May, and summer is pretty much here. It’s not really busy outside on the street, but he’s not the only one out, either. Rule number one of New York City: you are literally never the only person out and about, no matter what time of day it is.

Step two: the bodega. It’s on his walk, open twenty-four hours, and he stops there so often at weird hours of the night after work shifts that he’s established a rapport with the cashier who works the red-eye shift. “Eyyyyyy,” he sings, as he swings through the door into the small, artificially lit space. “What’s up, Charlie? You working hard, or hardly working?”

Actually, it’s not so much a rapport. It’s more that he’s constantly the loudest customer who graces this place between the hours of midnight and four in the morning, and Charlie probably hates him, but still tolerates his presence. So.

He needs flour, half a dozen eggs, a tied-up bunch of yellow and white flowers, and rainbow sprinkles. He also slides three Red Bull onto Charlie’s till, and then grins across the counter to remark, “The necessities.”

Charlie grunts or maybe chuckles, and scans his stuff. “Right.”

Step three: get home and get to work.

It’s, like, six minutes on foot from work to the bodega, and then four more to the subway stop, and then the subway is a whole host of issues that land him back at the apartment building around 3:30 in the morning. Bri’s alarm goes off at 6:30 for work, and he figures he can intercept her for a proper birthday breakfast before she goes to the gallery. Given that he kills one of the Red Bull from the bodega while he’s in transit to get home, he is at least ninety percent confident that there’s no point in not pulling an all-nighter.

It’s fine. He’s not even tired. He has stuff to do, anyway.

The apartment is dark when he gets in, and he tries to make the smallest amount of noise, which, when you think about it, is kind of pointless because it’s only one room and any noise he makes could count as a disturbance, but— but— Bri isn’t a light enough sleeper to wake up at that kind of stuff. A fact he is grateful for. So he puts the bag of groceries down, gently, on the counter, and turns the light on over the sink while he loosens his tie. Or more like yanks it off. The uniform at that job is seriously not his style, but you take what you can get.

Across the room, where their bed is tucked up into the corner, Bri is asleep. Thank Christ. He would be concerned if she weren’t. While he gets out of his work clothes, he looks at her in bed— she’s peaceful, and looks comfortable, and he kind of wants for a second to just crawl into bed with her, but if he does that, he’ll never get anything done in time, and she’ll wake up to a normal old morning. With nothing special. On her birthday.

She doesn’t deserve that.

When he’s finished changing, it’s 3:41 Apple time. The morning is young. He sneaks a kiss to the top of her head and pulls the covers a little higher over her shoulders, then slides across the room in his socks, back to the kitchen side of the apartment.

Sure, he’s great at fuck-ups. But he’s not going to let this one be a bust.

*

It’s a quick three hours.

He blames executive dysfunction. Time passes too quickly when he’s on a crunch, literally every time. He starts with her card, which he bought a few days ago— writes it out, seals it into its envelope, and weighs it down with the corner of one of her vases, which he fills with water and puts the flowers in. It’s glass-blown, psychedelic colors; she made it in the glass studio junior year at Kiersey, and it followed them to New York.

With that done, he gets all his ingredients out for breakfast. He can’t start cooking at 4 in the morning, but he can get ready— a bowl out on the counter, their one good frying pan on the griddle, dry ingredients for pancakes measured out. He’s not the most versatile cook in the world, but he makes a mean Kraft Dinner, and this, too, he can do— birthday cake pancakes. With sprinkles. It’s Bri’s favorite breakfast.

He doesn’t know how it winds up being 6:30. He loses time, doing all of this and also nothing at all. He’s two and a half Red Bull deep, mixing up the actual pancake batter, when Bri’s alarm tone across the room pulls him out of his haze.

“Shit,” he hisses, and nearly knocks over his frying pan. It’s 6:30 already? The kitchen is a mess, and he’s been stuck in the distractible part of his brain for the better half of the past two hours, and now he looks like he’s made a huge mess, and—

The alarm stops going off, and he hears the mattress shift. He’s rinsing off the questionable spatula he’s been using to mix the batter in the sink when he hears her voice. “Babe?”

“Hey— hey, good morning.” He turns, and puts his back to the counter, like it’ll hide the actual disaster he’s created. “Happy birthday,” he adds. “Did you sleep okay?”

Bri is sitting up halfway in bed, and she doesn’t answer his question. “What are—” She yawns, and holds a hand to her mouth, which is really fucking cute, the way her eyes get all wrinkled up like this, and he just— loves her, and wishes he weren’t so useless, wishes he could give her the world. When she finishes her sentence, her voice is raspy. That’s cute, too. “What’re you doing over there?”

“I’m, uh.” And busted. He might as well own up to the mess. “Well, I realize now that it looks like a bomb went off in here, but don’t worry; I’ll fix it. I was just— well, breakfast. I’m making breakfast. But it’s not ready yet. It will be. Promise.” He lets all his breath out at once, then tries a grin. “But did you? Sleep okay?”

Again, she doesn’t answer the question. Instead, she swings her legs off the side of the bed, and gets up to walk across the room. He meets her halfway, as she’s combing back her hair, a blonde, wavy, bedhead-y and beautiful mess. She’s in pajama shorts and a tank top, and he may be sleep-deprived and totally useless, but he is the luckiest guy on this planet. “How long’ve you been up?” she asks.

He rests his hands, gently, on her waist, and looks down to meet her eyes, which are hazy with sleep but always so fucking pretty. “I… don’t know if you would love the answer to that question,” he replies, because she’d see right through him even if he wanted to lie about it.

She smiles, but it’s a sympathetic expression, like she can see the Red Bull coursing through his veins or some shit like that. “Answer anyway.”

“Um.” Okay, busted. For real this time. While she hooks her arms around his neck, he tries to gather an explanation. “Okay, so I may not have slept, but hear me out, okay? I wanted to make sure I had stuff in a row so that when you woke up, it’d all be good for you, since I know we kinda have, like, a limited window here, and I didn’t want you to just have to eat, like, peanut butter toast on your birthday, right? Like, that would suck, and also, I was already up because of work, and I had stuff to do anyway, so basically, I didn’t, uh, I didn’t sleep at all, but on the bright side, there is pancake batter ready for you, and I promise I’m gonna clean up all the cooking shit ASAP because I know it looks like a war zone in this kitchen right now—”

“Reid.”

He stops. Her voice is gentle, and she’s smiling— it’s not the pity smile anymore, but just a regular smile. She threads her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he breathes, almost instinctively. “Sorry. That was so much. You just woke up. Hi. I love you. Happy birthday. You look really hot right now.”

Bri laughs, and leans up, on tiptoe, until her forehead is right on his. “Reid,” she repeats, even more gently, and he lets out all his breath again, closes his eyes. “Take a deep breath.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” He tries to do as she says. It’s really not hard to breathe; he just forgets that’s a necessary bodily task from time to time. No big whoop. “I promise I’ll clean it up. And I’ll make the pancakes, and— wait, shit!” The realization hits him all at once, and his stomach sinks. “Shit. Fuck. I don’t think we have whipped cream.”

“Whipped cream?” Bri asks, and she sort of laughs, like she’s confused, but this is very bad, because that’s a necessary part of any balanced pancake breakfast, right?

“Fuck,” he repeats, and then groans, bumping his forehead against hers lightly. “Fuck, babe; I’m so sorry. I knew I was forgetting something. I can go out, though. Maybe while you shower? I can get it on the corner—”

“Babe,” Bri says, and it occurs to him that he has once again forgotten to breathe. But when he meets her eyes again, she’s smiling, kind of laughing, and she shakes her head. “Shut up.”

“What?” He blinks. His glasses fog up a little, with how close their faces are, and he squints through them toward her. “I really will go out and get it. What are birthday pancakes without whipped—”

Bri slides her hands up to either side of his face, and she shakes her head again. “Just shut up and kiss me, okay?”

The pit leaves his stomach, and he stops in his tracks. “Oh,” he says, and then laughs, too. “Okay. I can do that.”

It’s a kiss that stops the racing in his brain, which it really always does; she just knows how to do that by existing. It becomes two, and then three, and when they pull apart, Reid can breathe normally again.

“You didn’t have to stay up all night because of me,” she tells him, voice still gentle, eyes still on him.

“I’m sorry,” he groans. “I didn’t really— I mean, I really didn’t want you to have a lame morning.”

“Well, that was very sweet of you,” she replies. Her eyes are catching the sunrise light that edges in through the window. He could get distracted by that. By her body. By every freckle on her face. He is, after all, easily distractible. “But,” Bri adds, “as long as my morning has you in it, I promise you, there’s nothing lame about it.”

He laughs, and kind of feels sheepish, like he might be blushing. “Okay.” He doesn’t deserve her, but he’ll take her at her word.

“C’mere.” She pulls him down for another kiss, and, yeah, this he can do. The apartment is way too small, and he is a human disaster, but she loves him anyway, for some reason he still can’t figure out, and he’ll never stop being grateful for that.

“Thank you,” she says, when they pause to breathe again. “I’m excited for pancakes.”

“I’ll make them good,” he assures her, and she laughs.

“I know you will,” she replies, and then smiles with half her mouth, so her one dimple shows, and that is fucking adorable. Holy Christ. He might be sleep-deprived, but if looks could kill… “But,” she adds, with that smirk still lingering, “not yet.”

“Not yet?” he echoes, and blames the sleep deprivation for how slow the realization is. “Right, yeah. Because you should shower, right? Get ready for work?”

“I think I have a distinct amount of time before I actually have to be ready for work,” she replies, and ohhhh. Oh. Okay.

This, too, he can do.

“I think I understand you,” he tries.

Bri winks. “You definitely understand me,” she says, and then grabs him by the hand and pulls him back toward their bed. “And plus, it’s my birthday.”

He almost makes a birthday suit joke, and then decides that puns are not an effective method of seduction today. Not that Bri really needs seducing. Right this second, anyway.

“I’m so honored,” he says, instead, and grins when she pushes him down to sit on the edge of the mattress. He holds her by the waist and waits, still smirking. “You mean to say you want me to be your present?”

“Something like that,” she replies, with a shrug, and then pushes him so he falls backwards, and he gets exactly three seconds to laugh at the ceiling before she’s kissing him and he gets to move on to something much, much better than rambling about his failures as a boyfriend in the middle of the kitchen.

Breakfast can wait.

[insanebatty]

JASON TODD X READER

(I've always made stories, but never posted them in public before. This is the first time. So please be gentle with the criticism, if this story wasn't to your liking then I'm sorry. I want to continue posting stories on here, but I won't be able to post them right away. Please be patient with me & thank you. I was inspired by @batarella ) Y/N = your name.

CHAPTER 1

There you were sweating in a black tank top with black shorts, gloves & goggles on, you were in the bat cave working on one of your experiments.

Rob Zombie blasting in your earbuds.

You were in charge of making a small beam to fit in Batman's glove.

You were tinkering with it then made your way to your laptop.

Your laptop had wires sticking out of it & plugged in your experiment.

"Foxy foxy!" You said going with the music, nodding your head as you started typing away on your laptop.

"Okay, please work. Please work." You said with your fingers crossed for dear life.

You clicked the downward key 5 times then clicked the enter key.

You looked to your right where the experiment was, you had an empty can two feet away from it.

Just then the beam shot at the can & the can flew in the air.

"Holy shit! It worked!!" You screamed not realizing or careing how loud you were.

You went & put another can in front & went back to your laptop.

You started typing away on your keyboard, tapping on the upward key 10 times, just as the music had changed to Deftones.

"The change in you! Like you never--"

You clicked enter.

Looked again to your right & saw your second empty can fly into the abyss.

"Oh my God!!" You excitedly screamed while jumping up & down.

"Oh my God I can't wait for Batman to use you, who should he try it on first? Bane, maybe Killer Croc? Ohh, what if he's surrounded by both Bane & Killer Croc? I'm gonna need to keep tinkering with it so he can shoot 4 shots simultaneously, but what if--"

You suddenly felt like your back was against a wall, but instead of the normal hard exterior of a wall.

This wall felt odd, it felt very warm & soft to the touch, you turned to see what exactly it was pressed up against you.

You were looking up at this 6'0 man who towered over you, short black hair almost touching his eyelids, faint scars on his face.

You couldn't even tell he had scars unless you really examined his face thoroughly.

He was wearing a white muscle shirt with grey sweatpants on & a towel around his shoulders.

Jason Todd, your ex-boyfriend of 4 years.

Last time you saw him was a few months back.

You had walked in the manor's kitchen & saw him sitting on the counter eating one of Alfred's blueberry pies.

You knew he had left because everyone wouldn't shut up about it, especially Bruce. Before Jason even had left, he somehow managed to hack in the bat computer before taking off & stealing newly found information about The Penguin.

Bruce was trying to get ahold of Jason for the information, but Jason wouldn't answer his calls.

Ex-boyfriends were supposed to be unbearable to be around, you would hate everything they did, you would ask yourself "I really found HIM attractive?!"

But this relationship was different. You were different & he was different.

After you two broke up, you two stilled worked along side each other, joked with each other & even complainted each other from time to time. You couldn't lie to yourself, you still found him attractive.

There he was standing in front of you, you could see his flexed muscles on his arms, but then he mouthed something to you.

"WHAT?!"

You could tell you were screaming because as soon as you said what, Jason moved his head away from you, he raised up his hand & pulled your earbud out of your right ear.

"Why the fuck are you yelling? You do realize you've been screaming out lyrics for hours now, right?" He said to you sounding annoyed.

"Hours? It couldn't have been that long, could it?" You asked him while taking the other earbud off.

You looked up at him confused.

"What time did you get here?" He asked you while taking off the towel from his shoulders.

"I got here at midnight."

Jason laughed, "yeah you've been here for hours, it's 5 in the morning."

You looked at him surprised "no..it can't be." you said while taking your phone out of your pocket.

"Check if you don't believe me."

You used your finger for the fingerprint on your phone. 5:45 am in a bright white shined back at you. You can feel your eyes bugging out, holy shit time really flys when your having fun.

"Told you so." He said, you can hear him smiling as he said that.

"Shut up, when did you get back? You were gone for what? 2 months now?"

"Igot back a few days ago & I was gone for a month in a half."

"So 2 months basically."

"It wasn't 2 months, it was a month in a half."

"Agree to disagree."

"Oh, shut the hell up."

You laughed, your favorite thing was to see how long it'll take for him to get annoyed.

Of course you never did that when you two were together. You would only playfully annoy him, but knew when to back off. Now that you two weren't together you took the opportunity to annoy the shit out of him.

"So why are you here so early?" You asked him, while pausing the music on your phone.

"I made a deal with Alfred. If I help him bake 2 cakes & 3 dozen cupcakes for the charity that bruce is going to, he'll let me use daddy dearest's work out equipment."

He always liked to annoy bruce that way, calling him daddy dearest, dracula or even old man.

One night on patrol, Jason had the balls to yell out "WATCH OUT DRACULA, HE'S GONNA TAKE YOUR PREY FROM YOU!!" On a rooftop across the street, as he watched Batman chase a mugger. The mugger was chasing his victim on the opposite side of the street, that street happens to be the busiest street in all of gotham. Almost everyone heard him, even a civilian on the sidewalk yelled out "BATMAN IS DRACULA, I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!"

Jason fell to his knees holding his sides from laughing so hard.

Bruce would glare at Jason for 2 weeks straight & Jason would return that glare with a shit eating grin.

"Ah, I see. It still surprises me that you know how to bake. You never baked anything when we were together."

"Yes I would, those chocolate cakes or red velvet cupcakes on your birthday."

"You made those?! I thought you bought them from the store."

"I thought you would like it more if I would bake it instead of buying it."

"How come you never told me this?"

"You never asked."

"Because I just assumed, plus you never really made a mess in the kitchen for me to hint at the facted that you baked them."

"Yeah well I do know how to clean too, unlike some people in this place."

"HEY! I so know how to clean! I would clean up all the time when we were together & now!"

"Chill the fuck out! I'm not talking about you!"

"Ohh, sorry then."

He rolled his eyes while messing with his hair & finally he looked behind you. "What are you working on?" He asked, walking towards it.

"Oh, Bruce asked me to make him a beam thingy for his glove. I like to think of it as a gun." You said following behind him.

The cave was so dark, it would have been pitched black if it weren't thanks to the lights above the gigantic bat computer & all the other lights above Batman's suits & souvenirs that he kept from his enemies.

You could already tell Jason was here to hold on his end of the deal.

This was the only place he preferred to work out at. He never liked working out in public.

He says he doesn't care if people stare at him, but you feel like he's a little self-conscious about the scars & you don't blame him.

Those scars he got from The Joker on that fatally night.

The night Jason died.

He has scars of gashes throughout his body. Memories that would keep him up at night when you two were together.

You would wake up to an empty side of the bed where Jason would sleep.

You would find him staring out the window or outside in the balcony, the moon would shine down on his body.

You would make your way to him & you wouldn't say anything.

You would just wrap your arms around him.

Your head on his bare back listening to his heat beat, but since he was so muscular & toned you couldn't clamp your hands together.

That's when he would turn to you & just stare at you. You would stare back at him, longingly.

You never wanted to stop looking at him.

He would smirk & caress your cheek.

He then would grab your chin & pull you in to kiss you.

He would hug you tight & wouldn't let go, you two would hold each other for hours without saying anything. Because there was nothing to say.

But now you wouldn't have those nights, they were just memories.

You two have been broken up for 5 months now.

You knew it was your fault that you two broke up, but you two still had each other, even if it weren't as lovers. But you two wouldn't allow yourselves to get too close to each other like before & it didn't help that you two were Leo's.

So you two are headstrong & stubborn as fuck. Waiting for the other to make the first move.

Now that you lost yourself in thought, you were facing the work out area in the bat cave.

The area was so lit up, it looked so hollow & empty.

"HEY, Y/N!" Jason yelled.

"Ah, what?" His yelling snapped you back into reality, as you turned to face him, his hand was on hip.

"Why the fuck are you standing there like an idiot?"

"I'm not! Why did you yell at me?"

"I was asking you how does it work, but you were too busy spacing out. You must be tired." He said to you as you walked towards him.

"I'm not tired, I was just lost in thought is all." You said as you put the gloves on.

" 'lost in thought, huh? Is it because I'm here with you alone & you wanted to take advantage of me, is that it?"

You stopped & turned to face him, his face was so close to yours & he had this sexy grin on his face.

He was bending over to be the same height as you.

"Oh, S-shut up. I wasn't thinking about you. You never crossed my mind."

"Oh is that so? Well that makes one of us."

What he said stopped you in your tracks, you looked up at him.

He eyed you down with his arms folded over his chest.

"Show me how this works." He said pointing to the beam thingy.

"Ah sure, but you'll need to wear these first." You said handing him a pair of goggles with your right hand, at the same time you turned to face your left side & started typing away on your laptop.

As you stared at your laptop, you noticed that your right hand was warm.

Too warm to be your own body heat alone.

You turned to see Jason holding your hand with his left hand, while putting on the goggles with his right.

You looked down to see both your hands entangled with each other, you noticed your heart racing.

It felt like it was going to burst out of your chest like an alien from the movie Alien.

You turned around, he hadn't noticed you staring.

"Okay, are you ready?" You asked him.

Pretending as if you didn't notice he was holding your hand.

You were hoping he would hold your hand the whole time, but it was too late. He let go.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"A-alright." You tried not to sound disappointed.

You grabbed an empty can from the floor & placed it where the original cans were.

You went back between Jason & the laptop.

"Alright. Here. We. Go." You said as you tapped the enter key.

The beam started up & blasted the can further than the previous cans.

Smiling from ear to ear, you faced Jason.

"So what do you think? Cool, huh?"

"It's alright."

" 'Alright'? Really?" You asked while both of you took off the goggles.

"My guns can shot further than that thing."

"You know how Bruce feels about guns."

"Why are you making this for him in the first place? Couldn't he make it himself?" He asked while tilting his head to the side.

"He can, but he asked me to make it. He's too busy with Wanye Enterprise at the moment." You said having your back towards him, turning off the beam.

"Ah, couldn't he asked Tim or Dick to help out with the "Family" business?" He said while making quotations with his fingers.

"Dick's in california right now on a mission with the Titans & Tim is already helping out with Wayne Enterprise, were you secretly hoping he'll ask you?"

"One, he wouldn't ask me & two I wouldn't do it, even if he asked."

"Okay, if you say so."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm gonna go do what I came down here for." He said turning his back towards you, giving you a peace sign.

"Alright, have fun."

"Yeah, you too." He said to you while making his way across the cave, you could never tell what he was thinking about even when you two were together.

He walked up to the weight bench, throwing his towel on the floor beside it.

He then went over to grab the weights, two 30 lbs & placed one, then went to the other side to place the other.

He was staring at a bucket on the floor, he went up to it & sticked one hand in & his hand came out covered in white. He smacked his hands together, white dust flew in front of his face.

He then noticed you standing there like a doofus, he returned your stare.

"Ah.." you muttered out & went to your experiment.

Examining & analyzing ever little piece on it. Making sure everything was a hundred percent. You made your way to the chair that was next to your laptop & sat down. You can hear the way the weights were rubbing against each other from the distance.

"One..Two..three..four..five.."

You shook your head & smacked your cheeks lightly "don't get distracted, Bruce needs you to finish this." You said to yourself.

Everything came out fine, you placed can after can god knows how many times. As you continued your work, on the opposite side of the cave, Jason continued his workout, both of you a sweating mess. You sat on the chair, typing away.

Hours later Jason finished his workout, he made his way to you, huffing & puffing, wiping the sweat off his face.

"Hey y/n, did you finally finish?" No response. Taking the towel off his face, "Hey Y/N!" No response.

"Your fucking music is too loud, your gonna go deaf-" he spinned the chair around. He was expecting a wide eyed look on your face, but instead he was staring at you peacefully sleeping. Mouth wide open, drool dripping out of it. The goggles you had on your head, was now entangled in your hair.

Jason's face softened up, he chuckled.

"God damnit y/n." He said as he started to separate your hair from the goggles.

His face was so close to yours, he felt your breath. He closed his eyes, opening them back up his eyes made their way to your lips. His heart stared racing faster than when he was working out. He stepped back. Taking a deep breath & exhaling, he started to put his arms under you. One arm under your head the other under your legs. He picked you up with no problem. Your head started to tilt backwards until he moved his arm so your head would be resting on his chest. He stood there watching you, studying every part of your face. He looked away & started walking out of the cave with you in his arms. He made his way through a brightly lit manor. The grandfather clock chimed as Jason went past it, your body twitched in his arms. He smiled.

"Good morning master Jason." Alfred said as he came out of the kitchen, his eyes went from Jason to Jason's arms.

"Oh my, is y/n alright?"

"Yeah she's fine, she just passed out. I'm gonna take her to my old room."

He said as he passed Alfred. Alfred nodded at him.

"Alright master Jason, I do wish you two would get back together. She made you so happy." Alfred said as he went back into the kitchen.

Jason smiled as he went up the stairs, "she still does."

He placed you on his bed, putting a thin sheet over you.

"Sleep tight y/n." He kissed your forehead & started for the door. He opened the door, but before he closed it, he looked back at you. Then he closed the door.

[imhereforbvcky]

Vivid - Part 7

Masterlist  -  Series Masterpage

Summary: Have you ever met someone who completely embodies a color? Not an aura, not synesthesia. Just… They walk into the room and when you spot them, you think to yourself, “Wow. That is a walking hurricane.” When Clint Barton serendipitously meets a free-spirited stranger, he sees red. Chapter: The mission continues.

Warnings: Swearing, mission violence, sad Clint, sappiness, goofiness, the whole gamut!

Word Count: 2294

A/N: Here we go! Here we go! Back on track! Just gotta write the ending 😬

All Clint really wanted was a nap. A really long fucking nap. And maybe when he woke up, he’d like to sit on the roof and eat cold pizza with Lucky at his side.

He was exhausted. More even, his head was running in that way that is hard to stop. Neurons continued to fire at a brutal pace despite the bone-deep fatigue that plagued his over-wrought body. Worry burned and ricocheted through his brain, fueled by stress and fear and a million and a half regrets. He had so many of them.

Wanda had told him again and again it wasn’t his fault. He knew, on some level, that she was right. None of them could blame themselves for the damage caused by others’ bad choices. They tried to mitigate the damage. They didn’t do the bad things.

But he couldn’t help thinking… he shouldn’t have rested, shouldn’t have let himself flag. He should have gone after that guy when he took off down the alley. He shouldn’t have told you to get everyone else away from the Leviathan… That one burned bright and hot in his chest.

He’d been searching for what felt like forever, sifting through the crowd of faces for the right face. None were the one he sought. Eventually, from the row of ambulances, he’d trudged back to the scene of the explosion empty handed. Dejected and anxious. He’d looked up to find Sam arguing with a petite woman, angry and insistent. She kept putting herself in Sam’s path. Begging wasn’t the right word; Nina didn’t beg. She claimed his attention and commanded his aid.

Clint ran as fast as his worn and burning muscles would allow. “Nina! Are you okay? Where is she?” the words tumbled out like water, like an uncontainable brook. His urgency had grown to a river spilling its banks, a force that could – would – wear stone down to oblivion and create monoliths in its desperation.

Nina looked at him, relieved for the moment. “Told you!” she snapped at Sam who raised his hands in surrender. She thrust an insistent finger at Clint’s chest. ”He knows me. Or, well… he knows my friend.”

“Nina!” Clint snapped, “What happened!”

She turned her attention to him, eyes as wild as his own. “I don’t know. When the whale thing lit up, she started telling everyone to back up. Yelling and… She climbed up on the stage! She was right next to that thing! I swear, sometimes she doesn’t even think, just does! I told her, ‘Look before you leap.’ I told her! But then you came… And then.. And then the—“

“She was on the stage?!” he balked, finally catching up to her rapid-fire speech. He had seen it – the explosion. He’d seen it when he’d gone ripping open emergency exits, giving escape to the sea of civilians in the blast radius. Wanda had enveloped the entire stage, Leviathan and all. A balloon of roiling fire and smoke had glowered down at him. Splintered wood and buckling steel had stretched the limits of Wanda’s protection.

He’d told them all to run, and then he had run with them.

Wanda had contained the heat, and possibly you within it.

“Hospital,” he mumbled as he staggered away, blind and numb as a newly born bird. He could think of nothing but the burning in his gut and the screaming in his skull, the fear and the regret. There was no salve but to find you.

“I hafta…” he muttered, turning into the cold embrace of the night. “I… hospital.” He repeated.

If you were alive, you’d be in a hospital.

Except you weren’t.

He’d asked every EMT on the scene if anyone had taken a severe burn victim. They hadn’t. They radioed all the nearby hospitals. No such patient.

It should have been a relief, but it wasn’t good enough. Clint stole Bucky’s motorcycle and wove with the reckless push of adrenaline through traffic, personally checking at every hospital in the area.

Nothing.

Not at the scene. Not in a hospital. He checked your apartment next, fist thundering on the door, voice shouting your name from the street until the neighbors yelled back and he skulked away holding his head in his hands.

He trudged aimlessly down the street until his phone rang. With a flame of hope igniting in his chest, he shoved it to his ear. Your name shoved past his lips, desperate as a prayer.

“No, Clint,” Wanda sighed. “No sign of her yet. Fire department haven’t found any bodies either. That’s a good thing.”

“’Kay.”

“Nina will call if she hears from her.” A silence which Clint did not fill. “Clint, you need to get some rest.”

“Yeah.”

“Eat something, clean yourself up, stitch yourself up,” there was a smile in her voice. It was gone by her next instruction. “Sleep, Clint. She’ll turn up. Or we’ll find her. You’re no good to her dead on your feet. You have to put the oxygen mask on yourself first, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“Clint.”

“I heard you,” he sighed. “Gonna stop for some food for Lucky first.”

“Debrief at nine tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Wan.”

People kept staring at him as they passed. The kind of stare where heads seemed to swivel round in a complete 180, eyes big as saucers. They looked like owls. He looked like shit. Or so he assumed or they wouldn’t stare like they did.

Dusty fingers reached for his upper lip, checking the gash there. Mistake. The cement dust on his hands let loose a volcano of a sneeze.

“Shit,” he muttered, shuffling to grab at the toppling tower of white take-out boxes in his arms.

Almost home. Then he could sleep. Or try to. He was so tired. The kind of tired that made his limbs feel like magnets, like there was another even greater magnet in the center of his mattress, dragging him forcibly deeper into its warm safety with a heavy leaden pull until he relented to the endless deep. The thought of it struck him as both pleasant and terrifying all at once.

Clumsy fingers fished around in a stiff leather pocket for his keys while his chin steadied the tower of take-out.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered to no one in particular. Maybe to the keys. Maybe to the universe who never seemed to listen. “Be good to me.”

Just steps away now, eyes high and unfocused as he arched, like only he could, to reach the depths of his pocket.

“Gotcha!” He held the keys aloft triumphantly, grinning at them. That was a good sign, surely. The universe had answered kindly. Maybe there was reason to hope.

Must’ve been, because when he looked down to find the first step up to his apartment, he nearly dropped everything.

There on his stoop, Lucky chomped on a slice of pizza, his head in the lap of a woman in a well worn band tee covered in dust and ash. A two-litre of coke pressed between greedy hands and Lucky’s deep purple draped untouched over the stairs.

Clint froze, like a computer stuck between competing commands. Laugh, or cry, or yell, or kiss. He couldn’t decide which took priority.

As you tipped the giant bottle of coke down from your lips and spotted him, you choked a little on the final gulp. The red label ripped red between your fingers, red as the surge of heat that swelled across your cheeks.

“Hi,” you managed. “I uh…” You pushed the bottle aside and spun the little red cap on. “You looked like you had your hands full at uh… back… you know. And I wanted to make sure someone was looking after Lucky while you were… busy.”

Words hadn’t made it past Clint’s basic mental programming yet, but he’d managed, at least to step forward, to set the take-out boxes on the stairs, and sit on the step below you.

“You-you said you wanted um coffee? And pizza? After everything. But my phone…” you held up a crushed shell of aluminum and glass. “I dropped it when… when the alien thing exploded. And it got trampled.”

Clint nodded. This was all hard for you to say, to relive that fear, and it was hard for him to hear. He’d been there, had hated every second of it and he hated how close you had been to annihilation.

He’d watched the orange swirling fire within Wanda’s red mist. It was the richest, brightest red he’d ever seen and he had been sure, absolutely positive that only something that had swallowed you whole could glow with that particular shade.

“So I just turned up on your stoop with pizza,” you rambled because he wasn’t speaking or moving at all. “Like an impulsive crazy person.” Suddenly feeling truly impertinent. You reached for the candy you still had stashed in your pocket from the concert, a nervous tick. Because while Clint needed coffee, you needed candy. You’d heard a TV show once say it was cheaper than drugs and tasted better than coffee and both were true.

“I mostly just didn’t want to be alone after… you know. But if you need to be, I get it. I’ll leave.” You shoved a handful of sweet little granules into your mouth and curled your feet under you, ready to jump up and go.

He still didn’t speak, but he did move. One impulse had won out in his brain and he lunged forward, one dusty, scraped up hand curling around the side of your throat with urgent fingers as his lips closed over yours.

He kissed you hard, with rough teeth and searching tongue, with gripping hands that held you tight like he was afraid you might slip right through his fingertips. He kissed you like you might not be real, like he needed to feel every last thing to make damn sure.

When he pulled away you were both breathless, but it was you who held tight, fingers digging into the stiff leather armor at his chest. You held him close and tightly, like hell had knocked at the door and you didn’t want him to make one move to answer it.

“I don’t want you to go,” he whispered. His breath tickled your lips and the edge of your nose.

“Then I won’t.”

He nodded and swallowed, eyes dancing over your face, caught, once again, between a myriad of actions. Want and necessity battling right on his stoop with his dog sniffing at the cartons of fresh steaming food.

“Why um…?” he paused, debating whether to even ask. After the night he’d had, there was a fair chance he was just going crazy. “Weird question but, why did that… Did that tingle for you, too?”

You snorted out a laugh, forehead falling to his shoulder as you reached into your pocket for the little black envelope of sweets you’d been dipping into all night.

“Pop rocks,” you smirked up at him.

“Naturally.”

“They go with everything,” you shrugged, pinching a few more into your mouth. Since you had the packet out anyway. “Bubble gum,” you suggested, kissing his lip softly, swiftly. “Vodka soda.” Another brief kiss. He leaned after you. “A good kiss.”

Gentle hands tugged you closer into a slower, messier kiss. The moment your lips found his, you pushed your tongue forward, rolling it along with a streak of popping fizzling candy against his. He giggled against your teeth and you drew back, grinning. The faint snap of erupting candy lingered with him.

“Should we… go upstairs?” he asked.

“If you want to.”

“There’re a lot of things I want to do,” he chuckled and you laughed. It crinkled your whole face and you shoved at his chest playfully. Red. Heat in your cheeks and flooding your lips as you bit down on a smile. You hid nothing and affection bubbled so readily. He liked that. It chased away the heavy drain of the magnet in his chest that might lock him in his own head for weeks at a time. At least, this time it did.

“Can we sleep?” he asked, voice still a low whisper. Insomnia plagued him for a reason. But right now, with you curled around him, he thought, perhaps, he might like a rest.

“Shower first.” You swiped a finger over his cheek, filthy with dirt and concrete dust, streaks of sweat and a gash of dried blood.

“And eggrolls.”

“Eggrolls in bed,” you countered.

With a lopsided grin and a tilt of his head, Clint regarded you for a moment, then shook his head with a small huff, just short of a chuckle. Affection might come easy to you, words like “I love you,” and “I miss you,” and “I was so goddamn worried about you.” They did not to Clint. He bit his tongue while reaching out with gentle hands and smiling eyes. Actions he could do, words less so.

“What?” you asked, matching the tilt of his head.

Instead of an answer he leapt to his feet, and took your hands, pulling you to yours. Lucky barked excitedly at the commotion.

“What are you doing?” you giggled as Clint leant over squaring his shoulder to your waist.

With an arm wrapped behind your knees he lifted you off the ground. About 4 inches off the ground. It lasted about 4 seconds before he groaned and dropped you back on your feet.

“Nope. Nope. Too tired.”

“I’ll get the carry-out,” you laughed, stepping toward the neglected tower of little white cartons. “You just get upstairs my Secret Avenger.”

“It wasn’t a secret!”

“Don’t call me an idiot.”

“You said it, not me.—Ow!” He ducked, scooping up your projectile.  “Not the fortune cookies!”

Chapter 8 >>

[moonb-eam]

skater boy au part ii

back by popular demand!!!!

(some folks did ask for this and i was so happy to write it - i just hope y’all like it!!!)

part i

part ii

He gets endless shit from Yann about it. All through their lunch, over the course of their walk to Lucas’s street, and then over text five hours later.

His phone buzzes as he stands in front of his mirror, pulling at the material of his t-shirt and pretending like the mess of clothes piled onto his bed doesn’t exist.

y4z4s: lol how many times have u changed

y4z4s: lulu don’t worry ur beautiful no matter what <3333

lucallemant: die in a ditch <3333

y4z4s: LOL ur so grumpy u r nervous!!!!!!

lucallemant: and u r annoying 

lucallemant: shouldn’t you worry about your own love life

lucallemant: oh that’s right it’s because you don’t have one

y4z4s: uh huh

y4z4s: u can send me pics if u want and i’ll vote on them

y4z4s: no forget it i already kno wear the black jeans they make ur ass look nice

y4z4s: luluuuuuu

y4z4s: lucas

y4z4s: did u hear me the black jeans

y4z4s: show demaury the goods

lucallemant: you’re gross go away

Lucas throws his phone down onto his bed, ignoring another rapid succession of buzzes.

He doesn’t care about dressing up for Eliott. He doesn’t. Eliott knows what Lucas looks like. He’s not going to act any differently if Lucas wears one thing or another. Eliott will probably show up wearing a stupid beanie anyway, and somehow looking completely perfect, because he’s just like that.

Whatever. He’s trying to keep perspective. Eliott is Eliott. And that means that Lucas must be one in a line of hundreds of people Eliott can date. 

Perspective. As in trying not to act like the very thought of it, the memory of the way Eliott’s mouth formed the words, I really like you, doesn’t make him want to throw himself into a swimming pool.

But perspective also tells him that, yeah, there might be hundreds of other people, but they’re not the ones going on a date tonight, are they?

So maybe Lucas does put on the black jeans. And maybe he does check himself out before he leaves his bedroom. Maybe he does smile to himself when he sees Eliott’s, downstairs! text, slipping out of the front door before Mika can ask him where he’s going.

He takes a breath before he opens the front door to his building, schooling his face to something neutral.

He’s glad he does it, because he’s not ready for what awaits him when he opens the door.

Eliott, leaning against a lamp post, wearing a button-up shirt with half of its buttons undone, hair wild and eyes low, lit up in orange and gold from the sun just beginning to set. 

He looks…cool. Unapproachable. Like the Eliott that Lucas sees at school. Like the sort of person who can waltz through life on the tops of clouds. Like the sort of person Lucas could only ever sneak glances at across rooms. 

But he looks up, sees Lucas, and his face splits into a big, toothy smile, and the effect is gone. Lucas doesn’t know what’s worse. The beautiful, unapproachable Eliott, or the Eliott who smiles like a dork.

“What,” Lucas calls out to him, across the stretch of empty sidewalk between them, “the hell are you wearing?”

Eliott glances down at himself, tugs on the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t like it?”

He doesn’t move from the lamp post so Lucas goes to him, short steps crossing that empty stretch of sidewalk until he’s close enough to get a good look at Eliott, to see how his cheeks are a bit pink, how his eyes are grey-green in the light.

Lucas is close enough to touch him, so he does, poking him once in the chest, where the shirt is gaping open. “Showing a lot of cleavage, don’t you think?”

“What can I say, I know what the boys like.” Eliott laughs, and before Lucas can pull his hand away he’s grabbing onto his finger, then folding Lucas’s hand into his own and tugging him forward, closer, closer, until Lucas is pressed right up against him, wrapped in his arms.

It happens so quickly, Lucas not touching Eliott, then touching him only a little bit, then being so surrounded by Eliott that it’s overwhelming. Lucas can feel the hard planes of his chest, can feel how warm his skin is, can smell him, and he smells a bit like cologne, something fresh and masculine, and a bit like cigarettes, and a bit like sweat and Lucas kinda wants to lick his neck and oh what the fuck where did that thought come from—

Lucas is not prepared for this.

He can feel himself locking up, arms straight down at his sides, neck stiff, eyes open wide. It’s just so much, is the thing. So much when Lucas has spent the better part of a year convincing himself that he doesn’t like Eliott, that Eliott is nothing more than a well-worn fantasy to pick up during boring classes and long bus rides. 

But Eliott is here, now, holding him, nuzzling into Lucas’s hair and sighing as though they’ve done this before, as though they’ve been doing this, touching like this, when all of their interactions before were handshakes bound in barbed wire.

“You smell nice,” Eliott tells him, voice close to Lucas’s ear, breath warm on his neck. 

Lucas shivers. He’s thrown off by the hug, by the contact and affection, and he’s getting a little lost in it, thinking about falling into Eliott without abandon, here we go—

He just starts to lift his hands, fingers reaching for Eliott’s back, when Eliott steps away, hands sliding away from Lucas and Lucas’s own arms are back at his sides and they’re staring at each other in the golden light, Lucas’s entire body a live wire of tension.

“So, are you hungry?” Eliott asks, bouncing on the spot. “There’s this cool place I’ve been to with the guys before; they do like, street food? It’s basically a fancy food truck but it’s so good, I swear.”

“Uh, yeah.” Lucas glances up and down the street, eyes dancing everywhere except right at Eliott’s face. “I could eat.”

“Cool.” Eliott steps away and bends towards the lamp post, and picking up his skateboard, tucking it under his arm.

“Oh no,” Lucas says, voice coming back to him, because really, “you did not bring that.”

“What? Celeste?” Eliott holds his board out and of fucking course he has a name for his board because he’s not cool, he’s a fucking loser. “She comes everywhere with me.”

“Oh, Celeste.” Lucas lets his eyes go wide. “I mean, if you’d rather be alone with her, I can go back inside.”

“At least she doesn’t make fun of me. She supports me. Literally and figuratively.”

“Does she sleep in your bed at night, too?”

“No.” Eliott’s eyes cut sharply to Lucas, mouth quirked in a teasing half-smile. “But you can, if you want.”

Lucas nearly chokes on his own tongue, only just managing to mask it with a cough into his fist.

Eliott looks far too pleased with himself.

“In your fucking dreams, Demaury,” Lucas says, and he doesn’t think he sounds that convincing so he turns away from Eliott, starts walking left, towards downtown. “Don’t we have somewhere to be?”

“Yeah,” Eliott yells after him, and Lucas can hear his board rolling across the pavement. “Except you’re going the wrong way.”

It is with great dignity that Lucas turns around and strides past where Eliott is waiting and flips him off with both hands.

Eliott takes him towards the area of town where the skatepark is, but they drift into a neighbourhood Lucas isn’t familiar with, one that has hip-looking bars mixed in with old apartment buildings and small parks.

It’s busy on the street, as everywhere in Paris is on a summer night, patios heaving and laughter carrying across a gentle breeze.

Everywhere Lucas looks, there are couples: walking hand-in-hand, sitting next to each other at tiny round tables, kissing on street corners.

He and Eliott pass one couple doing just that, Eliott holding his board under his arm again, telling Lucas how he and Idriss and Sofiane come here all the time, and Lucas makes a face at them, partially because he’s disgusted, and partially because he is, the tiniest bit, envious. There’s about a foot of space between him and Eliott. There has been ever since they started walking, and while the conversation is flowing a lot better since Lucas was able to get a hold of his few remaining brain cells, they probably look like they’re just friends.

It’s Lucas’s fault maybe, because he’s in his default snarking-Eliott mode, but it does make him wonder.

“Lucas?” 

Eliott has a hand resting at the small of Lucas’s back, and he’s gently guiding him across the street, to where Lucas can see a truck parked at the side of an empty parking lot, with a bright neon sign on the front of it. There’s a line of people waiting for food and at least half a dozen picnic tables set up in the parking lot, surrounded by strings of fairy lights. Lucas can hear music coming faintly from the inside of the truck. Something he can’t place.

He has to admit, this is not bad.

Eliott’s hand has dropped from his back but he’s grinning when he looks down at Lucas. “Now I know you have high standards, Lallemant—”

Lucas snorts.

“—but the food here is amazing. Trust me. It’s Moroccan food that even Idriss approves of, and he says everything is shit except what his mom makes.”

“If I had high standards,” Lucas says cheerily, patting Eliott on the chest, “then I wouldn’t be on a date with you.”

Eliott cackles at that, tipping his head back, and Lucas tucks his pleased smile away into his own shoulder. 

“You’re so mean,” Eliott says, but he’s smiling, smiling at Lucas like Lucas is the best thing he’s ever seen. It wreaks havoc on Lucas’s heart.

So Lucas coughs, breaks his gaze away from Eliott’s, and goes to the truck to find a menu. 

Eliott follows him, stopping behind Lucas in line and bending down to murmur in his ear, “Do you want to share a few things?”

Lucas is vibrating at a low frequency at this point, but he says yes, actually, he would because there are about three things on the menu he wants to try, so that’s what they do.

They find two spots at the end of a picnic bench, where the only other occupants are two girls sharing a big plate of food, laughing when one of them manages to get a glob of hummus on her chin, the other one wiping it off with a napkin.

Eliott asks if they’re saving the table, and the girls say, no, that’s fine, all yours, and Eliott and Lucas sit across from each other at the opposite end.

“So, do you like it?” Eliott asks, face eager.

Lucas nods. “Yeah,” he says, glancing around the parking lot, then to the truck, where he can see a young woman and a man cooking, laughing, and the other young woman who took their orders hollering something back to them. “It’s cool.”

Eliott grins. “Cool.”

“Seems like the type of place you would come to,” Lucas continues, because he can’t just leave things. “Being such a hipster and all.”

Eliott genuinely looks offended. “I am not a hipster.”

“Oh no? Mr. Skateboard Artist? Your music taste would beg to differ.”

“When,” Eliott’s eyes are narrowed, “have you ever heard my music taste?”

Lucas pauses, takes a slow slip of the beer he ordered. “I’ve seen some of your instagram stories.” He shrugs, takes another sip of beer. “That’s not a surprise, you can see who watches them.”

“I never really look at that.”

Lucas sighs. “Of course you don’t.”

Eliott leans onto his forearms, his body stretching across the table. “Do you ever listen to the songs? After you see them on my story?”

Yes. “No.”

Eliott’s eyes are lethal. “So if I said that there’s one song that I posted because it reminds me of you, you would have no idea which one?”

Lucas swallows. Tries to control his exhale. “Let me guess. It’s that song called ‘Mean’, the one Daphy always listens to.”

Eliott shakes his head. He leans back on the bench, pulling a cigarette out from behind his ear and lighting it, smoke curling around his face. “No,” is all he says. “It’s not that.”

Their food arrives, four steaming plates dropped at their table that have Lucas’s mouth watering.

They both dig in, hands getting messy, satisfied groans coming from deep in their throats.

“Alright,” Lucas concedes after he bites into a spicy dish that sends him straight to the heavens. “This food is incredible. Not a bad spot, Demaury.”

“So glad it meets your approval, Lucas.”

The way he says his name, the way his voice sounds as it holds the word Lucas, makes Lucas shift awkwardly on the bench. Maybe it’s the food, or the beer, or the atmosphere of the night around them, but Lucas feels good. So good his few brain cells have decided to take off. That’s the only explanation for him saying, “I’m happy you asked me.”

Eliott’s in the middle of drinking from his own beer bottle, and a bit dribbles out onto his chin. “What?” Eliott asks, laughing, wiping his chin. “Do you mean to say that you, Lucas Lallemant, are happy to be out with me on a date?”

“Nope. Didn’t say that.” Lucas can feel himself smiling, the same way he did back in the skatepark, unable to control it. “You’re hearing things.”

“Sure, sure.” They’re smiling at each other over the table, over the nearly-empty plates and the pile of napkins. “I’m happy you said yes.” Eliott says, and it’s Lucas’s turn to almost choke on his beer. “I wanted to ask you out for so long, you know. But you…you make me nervous.”

He says it so easily, like it costs nothing to be honest, like he’s not aware that the two girls have quieted their conversation and are clearly eavesdropping.

“I make you nervous?” Lucas sputters. “Are you not Eliott Demaury, resident golden boy of the school? What have you done with him?”

“I don’t think of myself as…” Eliott trails off and waves a hand at Lucas. “I’m no golden boy, or anything. I’m not. And you make me nervous because I really like you. Because I think you’re really cool.”

Listen.

Lucas has a science concentration. He genuinely, without irony, loves space, and plays video games all the time, and spends far too many nights on Wikipedia conspiracy theory pages, and honestly, is pretty shit at football. Lucas has never been called cool in his entire life.

“You’re so weird,” he murmurs, eyes wide and disbelieving on Eliott. “You really are.” He lowers his beer back down to the table, eyes following the motion, still down when he says, so quietly he hopes Eliott will miss it, “I like you so much.”

Of course Eliott hears it. And of course the girls at the other end of the table hear it too, both letting out awwww’s that make Lucas’s cheeks flush.

“Reminds me of us,” one girl says to the other, who shushes her with a giggle. They both stand from the table, gather their plates, and leave, their held hands swinging between them, one of them glancing back at Lucas to wink before they disappear from the parking lot.

Lucas hesitantly glances back up at Eliott, who’s leaning on his forearms again, his smile small, and his eyes burning. They’re still the colour of ice but they’re so warm, in the way they travel across Lucas’s face, down his neck, and back up again. They’re not cooling on Lucas’s skin anymore, they’re setting him alight from the inside out.

“Hey,” Eliott says, voice low, smooth. “Let’s get out of here.”

Lucas licks his lips. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere.”

Yeah, that’s… “Okay.”

They collect their plates and bottles and drop them in the bins back at the truck. They turn right when they leave, with no particular destination in mind, both of them wanting to be moving, looking to expel the wild, anticipatory energy manifesting between them. Eliott’s arm brushes against Lucas’s and it feels like lightning dancing across his skin.

Eliott turns them again, onto a much quieter street, with a park on one side and a row of tall, narrow houses on the other. Lucas can hear music coming from a few open windows, faint laughter spilling out into the night, but he can’t see anyone, other than a man walking his dog further down the road.

They cut into an empty basketball court that opens up onto a small, flat field. The sun is far down on the horizon now, the sky painted with pastel swaths of pink, purple, yellow and blue. Eliott’s on his board, skating lazy circles around where Lucas walks, laughing when Lucas rolls his eyes after he does a kick flip.

“You look stupid,” Lucas says, and Eliott rolls to a stop in front of him, cutting off his path. 

“You think so?” Eliott asks. Teasing, always teasing.

“Yeah, I do.”

Eliott steps off his board. Kicks it up. “You know, you shit talk skateboarding so much for someone who’s never tried it.”

Lucas makes a face. “How do you know I’ve never tried it?”

“Please.” Eliott says it like its obvious, and maybe it is, but Lucas has his reasons. Yann has bene trying to get him into skateboarding for years, but Lucas could never be bothered to try it. And yeah, maybe, maybe he doesn’t want to fall. He hates the idea of it.

“Well, whatever.” Lucas says testily, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t need to try it to know it looks stupid.”

“Mhm.” Eliott narrows his eyes at Lucas. “You’re scared.”

“I am not.”

“Yes you are.”

“I am not fucking scared.”

“Alright.” Eliott shrugs, smiling. “If you say so.” His voice is a sing-song on the last sentence, the tone so clearly conveying i don’t believe you that it makes Lucas bristle. It’s the type of tone that always gets his back up. Makes him do stupid things.

“Give me that thing,” he grumbles, snatching the board from Eliott and dropping it to the ground. He hesitates for the briefest moment before he steps onto it.

Immediately the board shifts, Lucas’s feet going one way, and his body threatening to go another and oh god, Lucas is going to fall he’s going to break something he’s going to die why does he always do this dumb shit—

“Whoa!” Eliott reaches out and grabs onto Lucas’s flailing hands, holding them tightly in his own. He manages to steady Lucas enough that he doesn’t fall, just rolls a bit to the right. “Christ, I didn’t think you’d actually go for it.”

Lucas can feel his cheeks heating. Eliott’s hands are soft and strong against his own, long fingers curled between Lucas’s. “Yeah, well. I…can’t really say no to a challenge.”

“I know,” Eliott says, his features softening into something that could possibly be called fond. “Why do you think I kept giving you so much shit right back? I thought it was the only way to get you to talk to me.”

Lucas’s hands squeeze Eliott’s, on reflex, and Eliott squeezes back. “I don’t know if that was a good plan, because I thought you hated me.”

“I dunno. I kinda disagree, because look where we are now.”

Belatedly, Lucas realizes that they’re moving, Eliott taking small, slow steps and gently pulling Lucas along by the hands, the board rolling along under Lucas’s feet.

“Just try to move your body with the board,” Eliott instructs. “Keep your core tight.”

Right.

The feeling of the ground moving underneath him is, admittedly, nerve-wracking, but Eliott is holding his hands so tightly, tugging him along so slowly. It allows Lucas to pay attention to other things, like how good the faint wind feels on his face, like how good Eliott’s palms feels against his own.

He tries to remember what they were talking about, distracted by the play of the dusk light over Eliott’s features, hallowing the shadows under his cheekbones, under his eyes, making him look otherworldly. Lucas searches his brain for a word he heard Manon use a while ago.

Ethereal.

“And where are we now?” He asks eventually, stumbling only a bit when Eliott turns him in a wide circle, going to the other end of the court.

“We’re on a date.” Eliott says, once again like it’s obvious. “We told each other that we like each other. We’re probably going to kiss tonight.”

Lucas’s mouth drops open. His throat feels dry. “You think we’re going to kiss?”

“Of course.” Eliott looks up from where he’s been watching Lucas’s feet on the board, meeting his eyes. “Don’t you?”

Lucas swallows once. “I doubt it.”

“Really.” Eliott has slowed Lucas down until he’s barely moving, the board moving from its own momentum. He’s still holding Lucas’s hands. “You don’t want to kiss me?”

“Not particularly.” Lucas wrinkles his nose. “You’re kinda gross. But you’re asking all these questions like you want to kiss me.”

“Hm, no, actually. I don’t want to kiss you anymore.”

“Oh no?” A shocked laugh bubbles out of Lucas’s throat, flies free before he can catch it. 

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Now who’s asking questions?”

They’ve stopped moving, completely. Lucas is standing on the board, and he’s closer to Eliott’s height this way, only has to tilt his chin up a bit to meet his gaze.

“If you don’t want to kiss me, that’s fine. I can find someone else who will.”

Eliott laughs now, squeezing Lucas’s hands again where they hang between them. “How the fuck did you manage to turn that around on me?”

Lucas sighs. “You’re not that smart. It’s not difficult.”

Eliott’s face screws up into something complicated, like he wants to smile but he’s trying not to, and oh god, is Lucas ever familiar with that expression.

“You’re so mean to me,” Eliott complains. He releases his hands from Lucas’s, and Lucas mourns the loss of his touch for only a second before those hands are at his waist, Eliott stepping so close to him that Lucas could count his eyelashes. “But I know your secret,” Eliott whispers into the empty air between them.

“Yeah?” Lucas’s voice comes out all breath. He swallows and tries again. “What’s that?”

“You like me,” Eliott says, wrapping his arms fully around Lucas’s waist. “You like me and you want to kiss me.”

“That’s not a secret. I told you that I like you.” Lucas argues, his own arms coming up to wrap around Eliott’s neck, his hands almost shaking when they pass over the hard muscle of Eliott’s shoulders. “You know I do.”

“I do.” Eliott agrees, and he’s leaning closer, any distance left getting small, smaller, smaller. “I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

“Eliott,” Lucas says firmly, because he has never been a patient person and even he has his limits for how much teasing he can take. “I really like you. And if you don’t kiss me right now then I’m never going on a date with you again.”

Eliott says nothing to that. Just leans the last few inches forward and presses their lips together.

Eliott’s lips are soft and warm, but the kiss is artless, a quick press of lips that Eliott immediately pulls away from. Lucas whines at the loss, wanting more, needing more than that.

“This is okay, right? You want this?”

“Yes, Eliott, for fucks’s sake, yes.” Lucas tugs him in by his neck. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, the last word getting caught by Eliott’s lips, their lips crushing together now, Eliott’s arms tight around Lucas’s waist.

Lucas moans into it, arching his neck up to get closer, needing Eliott to be closer.

He opens his mouth the slightest bit on the next press, and Eliott takes the invitation, coaxing Lucas’s mouth open even wider and kissing him, deep and wet.

The thing is, Lucas has actually thought about kissing Eliott before. He’s wondered what it would be like, if Eliott would have too much spit or if it would be too dry or if Eliott was the type of boy who would immediately get handsy.

In none of his fantasies did he ever think it would be this good, these slow, sensual presses of their mouths, the warm slickness of Eliott’s tongue against his own, the feeling of Eliott’s soft hair between Lucas’s fingers, the smell of Eliott surrounding him, the comforting weight of Eliott’s arms around him.

“Lucas,” Eliott gasps between one kiss and the next and he sounds ruined, and Lucas thinks he might be right there with him, because kissing Eliott is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, and Eliott is unlike anyone he’s ever known.

Lucas thinks back to the hug earlier that night, thinks about letting himself fall into Eliott but maybe they’re falling together, comets headed skywards, shooting stars set on a collision course.

So he gasps, “Eliott,” right back and lets himself feel every bit of it. 

Eliott does something with his tongue that makes Lucas’s whole body feel like a lightning rod and he moans again, tugging on Eliott’s hair.

And apparently that does something to Eliott, because he’s trying to come even closer, and he’s tilting Lucas a bit and Lucas feels his feet move but they’re not moving, and fuck, he forgot he was still on the board—

Eliott tightens his arms even more and Lucas is moving, his feet leaving the skateboard as it rolls away, Eliott swinging him around in a steady circle. Lucas pulls his head back, separating their mouths to gasp again, his feet swaying in the air.

“Eliott,” he yells, laughing, and Eliott is laughing too, setting Lucas gently onto the ground, bending to follow him down, keeping their lips level. “You really think you’re smooth, huh,” Lucas says but it’s lost again into Eliott’s mouth, a barb that has no sting, that dissolves to stardust between one press of lips and another.

Eliott’s mouth is scorching hot against Lucas’s own, so sweet Lucas might actually faint, and he’s just thinking about pushing Eliott onto the grass outside of the court and climbing on top of him, getting a better angle, when Eliott abruptly pulls back.

Lucas can’t believe the sound that comes out of his own mouth. He knows he’s blushing, and he tries to reel Eliott back in to forget about it, but Eliott’s face looks determined. 

“I want to ask you something.”

Lucas literally cannot get a single thought formed at that moment other than lips and tongue and Eliott. “Uh,” he says, lips still pursed slightly.

Eliott clears his throat. “Lucas, will you be my boyfriend?”

It takes a second, it really does, because Eliott’s lips look cherry red in the fading light and Lucas wants to be kissed again more than he wants anything else in the world, but the words land somewhere in Lucas’s brain, somewhere his brain cells have decided to return to so they can point at it and say, oh shit!

Boyfriend?

Lucas blinks. 

Boyfriend.

“Eliott, what the fuck.” 

[fanficsandfluff]

Emotions Get the Better (3)

So, writing these reader insert fics is hard for one reason: POV. I don’t want to make the writing look sloppy by constantly switching over POVs, but there are so many times where I wanna express Arthur’s thoughts as opposed to the reader’s. So I tried it out in this part. Please let me know if it was too confusing or hard to understand. 

~~~~

You dealt with your boss when you got home that night you dropped Arthur off at his home. He knew you were a loyal employee so he wasn’t overly upset. So you made sure to get to work early the next few days just to make it up to him. On your walk from the train to the theater, there was no sign of Arthur. You hoped he was healing and resting. Still, you couldn’t help but look down the alley where you found him last time, just in case. 

Finally, it was a Thursday night. You didn’t have work all day. You and some friends were meeting up for dinner and then you planned on going over to Pogo’s comedy club downtown; well, more downtown than where you lived. The comedians there were usually pretty funny, especially after you’ve had a few drinks. 

After a pretty fatty and delicious dinner, you and two other girlfriends made your way to Pogo’s. The first comedian of the night was halfway through his act and you all were seated at a table by the bar. You ordered all your friends a round of tequila shots to start off. 

One of your friends was finishing up a story that was way funnier than anything the comedian was saying at the moment, so the three of you laughed uproariously, enough to turn some audience members’ heads. 

Arthur had been watching the stand-up in relative silence, since the crowd around him was dull and wasn’t fueling any real reaction from him. Then there was a sudden burst of laughter from behind him that apparently not only didn’t make sense to him but to many people around him as heads turned. He sought for the source of the laughter and his eyes landed on a table of a group of three women. Even in the dim light, he recognized a face at the table. He hardly had to think before he stood up and approached the table. 

As your giggles died down, someone approached the table and stood right in front of you, blocking any view of the comedian struggling to get through his set on stage. You looked up in the dimly lit area of the club and saw a man, smiling face looking directly at you.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said your name. 

You studied him for an extra second, and you gasped the minute you figured it out, “Arthur?”

“Yeahah,” he chuckled, happy you remembered him.

“Hi! Nice to see your real face,” you smiled at him. 

“Well, you said we have to stop meeting when I’m dressed up, so I guess I delivered.”

You nodded, still smiling, the booze in you already making images slightly fuzzy, “Mmhm. You did. Oh, these are my friends, Emma and Sam. Do you wanna sit with us, or--?”

“No. No, I have my own table. I just wanted to say hi,” Arthur said. 

He wanted to say she looked beautiful, but those bold words were far from his tongue at this moment in time. He could only think it.

“Well, thanks for saying hi,” you said, giving him a wave as he returned to his table. Once he was safely seated at his table towards the stage, you turned to your friends, “So, that was the guy I told you about. The clown.”

“Jesus Christ! That was him?”

“Kinda cliché for a clown to go to a comedy club, no? You think he’s stealing material for himself?”

You rolled your eyes and watched as the first comedian of the night stepped off the stage and handed it off to the next, “You never know. I mean, he told me he was a comedian.”

“So I was right. He’s borrowing jokes for his own act.”

You sipped at your martini and immediately laughed at the new comedian’s first joke. He was already a much better presence than the first guy, and the whole audience could agree. 

This guy was really on fire. Joke after joke he was having the crowd roaring. A few minutes into his set, in the lull between setup and punchline, there was an extremely high-pitched yowl of a cackle. It came from in front of you. 

You couldn’t identify where the sound came from until the next joke. Same thing happened. Silence and then that laugh. You saw Arthur and your eyes were now drawn to him. 

You could see he was scribbling into a notebook in front of him. Hm, you guessed Sam was right about the taking jokes part. And when he looked up, he wasn’t so much focused in on the comedian as he was nervously glancing around at the people around him. It was like he was waiting for their reactions to the jokes. And then he laughed. You were completely fascinated by this behavior by this point that the comedian’s jokes were basically drowned out by your own laser focus on when Arthur would choose to laugh. Was he making a statement of his own by not laughing at the right parts? You could only wonder. 

“So, I took my car into the shop the other day...”

Laugh.

“There was this mean looking guy, I’m talking mean...”

Laugh.

“And when we opened the window...”

Laugh.

You snorted at that last one. The more you focused on Arthur laughing, the more it was dawning on you how out of place they were, making them all the more funny. Then again, it could’ve also just been the alcohol. But shit, you were surprised no one else had started to laugh along with Arthur, I mean, his laugh was so contagious. 

“We’re road tripping all over the midwest, you know? South Dakota, Oklahoma...”

Laugh.

And this time, you laughed a half second after Arthur’s laugh pierced the silence. It was just too funny to you. The guy had a great laugh. And thinking of the punchline as being “Oklahoma” made it all the more random and funny to you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” your friend asked you, looking at you like you were crazy.

“Wahahait, wait, you gotta listen to him,” you pointed at the out-of-makeup clown, “It’s the funniest shit I’ve experienced in a long time.”

The next joke was delivered in full, but Arthur didn’t laugh. He was busy writing. But the next one he was right back in the swing of things. 

You waited for your friends’ reaction as you found yourself laughing again. And even after the next one, you were holding your stomach, your laugh coming out in wheezes by this point. You were starting to feel lightheaded.

“You belong with him, you know that?” your other friend rolled her eyes, grinning at her own joke. 

Arthur was focused on what made his jokes so funny. This wasn’t a new struggle for him, but here he was again, trying his hardest. But what was different about this outing to Pogo’s than any other was that he was actually hearing someone laugh when he laughed. He slowly turned in his seat to see who is maybe on his side, who feels as disconnected as he does. To his surprise, and pleasure, it was Y/N. He smiled brightly, seeing her laughing to herself at this point, her friends shoving her and telling her to shut up. It was all somehow very charming. Best of all, Arthur could tell she had a fantastic laugh. 

The night went on, and your friends decided for you that you had enough to drink, even though you knew you could pack away a few more. You eventually settled to be boring and normal like everyone else and laugh at the right punchlines. Still, your eyes flicked to Arthur when he’d get a joke that no one else on the planet would’ve understood. 

The last act of the night finished up and audience members started to clear out of the comedy club. You yawned and stood, stretching. You threw your coat over your shoulders and walked out with your friends, bidding goodbye to them right outside the club since you all lived in different directions and had to split up. 

You remained at the corner, inhaling the chill Gotham night air. The club was feeling a bit stuffy to you, so you wanted to enjoy the ‘fresh’ air before heading into another stuffy subway car, sure to smell of piss and burnt rubber. 

“Did you like the show?”

You were startled for a second, not expecting a voice to speak that close to you. You looked Arthur in the eyes and smiled, “Yeah, I had a great night. Partly because of you.”

“I heard you,” he smiled back at you, seeming giddy to the point of bursting.

You blushed but still grinned, trying to keep some dignity, “I don’t doubt it, I’ve always had an obnoxious laugh. A lot of things about me are actually obnoxious--”

“I don’t think obnoxious is the right word. You sounded truly happy.”

You nodded, “Well, I was. When I’m a little happy, I’m usually all the way happy. When I’m a little sad, I’m all the way sad. Does that make sense?”

Arthur tilted his head, his eyes seemed to be scanning your whole face, “It kinda does, yeah.”

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself. You shared a silence together before you snorted in thought, “Can I ask you why you were laughing like that? At the parts that weren’t the punchline?” you asked with genuine curiosity, really wanting to know the answer.

Arthur paused and his face fell. He didn’t know how to explain himself. You could tell he didn’t want to answer that, so you let it go.

“Well, I’m gonna start heading home. It was--”

“Do you want to get something to eat?” he asked. 

“That’s... That’s a nice offer, but I actually had dinner already and the drinks I’ve had probably mean I should turn in for the night.”

“We can just go for coffee or a donut,” Arthur pressed more. You just noticed he was holding that notebook he was writing in, as he squeezed it in his hands. You looked into his eyes and you had to admit there was something in them that was very welcoming. Maybe that’s what kept you interested in him. 

“Sure. I can do that,” you said to him and you saw his face light up in relief and happiness. 

“I know a place,” he said and started to cross the street. 

And you followed him and his surprisingly quick yet languid pace. Coffee with a clown. That could be the title of your memoir, you thought. You grinned to yourself and kept up with Arthur. 

[aelryndel]

Ael’s Pilgrimage Day 6

Day Six: Karazahn

Ael was up early, before dawn early. As he led, Adrenas out of the stables, he paid the stable keeper and then was on his way once more. The duo left Bog Paddle and headed for Deadwind Pass. The trip was arduous, Adrenas nearly slipped several times on the decaying cliffs and deteriorating roads that lead through Deadwind Pass. When he arrived in the little town, well the ruins of it. He immediately felt a shiver run down his spine. Was he being watched? Who was out there? Instinctually, the arcane began to gather around him defensively.  If Ael thought his troubles were over when he finally arrived at Kara’s main entrance, he quickly realized that was not the case. He rode up to the main entrance and immediately felt the deep arcane connection of the nexus that sat underneath the crumbling tower. Knowing this was going to be dangerous, the task Alison gave him, he dismounted and let Adrenas go about his own business. The Warhorse was more than capable of defending himself. Ael needed to worry about what he’d find on his way up to the library in the ruined home of the old Guardian. He grabbed his pack, his shield, and his spellblade and then entered the main entrance.

Inside the tower, Ael moved quietly through the courtyard and into the main house. The ghosts he knew were there seemed to be quiet for the time being. He traveled through the grand hall, and into the banquet hall. His luck ran out when he attempted to enter the Master’s Terrace. An arcane construct blocked the path to the upper levels and ultimately the library. There was no way to go around. The Spellblade drew his enchanted blade, the broadsword ignited in golden energy as its master drew it. Ael whispered the spell he needed to cast before this turned into full on combat. His armor lit up with the magical runes embedded in it and the soft translucent golden magic made his armor shine slightly. He strolled forward cautiously and engaged the construct. The fight went as one would have expected. Ael’s enchanted Spellbreaker armor basically nullified the arcane construct’s magical attacks. With the magical properties being negated, the Elven Spellblade only had to deal with the actual impacts of the massive construct’s physical attacks. Within a half of an hour, he emerged. He was battered and bruised but he had vanquished his foe not without great effort. From the menagerie, he ascended the tower and a little while later made it to the Library. 

Inside the library he realized the true difficulty of the task Alison had given him. How was he going to find one book in so many? Aelryndel began searching the closest shelves. No luck. He moved on to the next, then the next, and the next. He searched every bookshelf in the library and couldn’t find the book. It had been hours. But the Squire would not fail the last task his Knight Mentor had given him. Ael began searching the piles of books scattered all over the large room. Another hour or so later, he managed to find the book he was searching for, A Treatise On Time: Volume 1&2, The Year of Southern Tempests. Having retrieved the book, the dutiful Squire stuffed into his pack and then moved to the exit. It was then he heard them. The ghosts, they were coming. Had his taking the book released them? Angered them? He’d be damned if some long dead servants were going to stop him from returning a book belonging to the Royal Library. Ael muttered an incantation, and began the hand gestures associated with forming the spell. As he summoned the Arcane to his hands and began to morph it to his typical holy hybrid power, he felt the power of the nexus pulsating beneath the base of the tower.  What surprised him was the amount of power he felt in his hands as he cast the spell. As the words of the spell began to spill out from the Wizard’s mouth, “Shar Diel dath dor Al’shar.” the golden magic surged with the completion of the spell. And just in time. Ghosts, too numerous to count, began converging on the Aelryndel. The surge of power combined with his own magic caused the explosion of holy arcane fire to blast outward and engulfed the entire library in the holy fire. The Ghosts were subsequently destroyed or just temporarily sent back to where they came from. Ael did not have time to reflect on what just happened. The Library seemed to be burning, and the heat felt real to him. He grabbed a chair and hesitantly smashed one the stained glass windows. Whispering another spell he ran and dove out the window near the top of the tower.  

His spell kicked in as he was plummeting to his death. His rapid descent was slowed completely, almost to a stop. He slowly fell, righting himself so that when he arrived on the ground he’d be standing upright. Within a few moments he was back on the ground, book still in his pack and mission accomplished. So he thought. Outside a trio of humanoids had Adrenas cornered in a dilapidated ruin of a house. There were a few of their bodies on the ground around them, it seems Adrenas had tried to fight them off. Ael acted quickly. “Neph’o Shar Alah!” he shouted as he sprinted towards his steed. Arcane magic flew to his hands and he flung the magic outward in a thin fan-like wave of energy that slowly morphed from the azure of the arcane to the bright gold of holy magic. The wave smashed into the trio as they were turning to see the source of the shout. It threw them back into the walls of the house. Without stopping Ael leapt up on to Adrenas, whistling as he did so the Warhorse would move immediately. As they darted into the ruined town. More of the black garbed humanoids began to pour out of the other houses. They were benign controlled, Ael deduced as every avenue he took through the town seemed to quickly swell with the mysterious brigands. They were funneling him to a specific place. The former Elven Cavalier relented and followed the open streets to the town center. There stood a black robed person. As Ael arrived, the mystery person drew the dark hood back, revealing a half human half elven face, nearly skeletal in appearance. 

“Welcome. Welcome.” he said in an icy voice. Which made Ael narrow his gaze at the thing, before he looked around as all exits were quickly cut off by masses of black garbed skeletons? “A necromancer, how quaint!” Ael said in response, “You are an original...” Aelryndel started. “...With a flair for the theatrics.” The half Elven necromancer smirked and performed a theatrical bow. “I try. Now if you will hand over whatever it is you took from the Library, we’ll be on our way. If you won’t, well let's not find out what happens if you don’t. And don’t bother lying, I heard the ghosts when you stole the book.” Ael’s eyebrows raised curiously, “And what are you? An Opera reject turned self-proclaimed protector of the Guardian’s Library’s virginity?” 

There was no humor in the Necromancer’s response. “Cocky. I can respect that. But do you think that because you survived the climb to the tower’s top you are some kind of accomplished explorer or.. What are you anyway? An upside down broom?” Ael couldn’t help it, that was funny. He laughed out loud at his own expense. “You’re right. That is exactly what I am. Shall I show you what this helm symbolizes?” Ael asked honestly as he pointed to the Cavalier’s helm on his head. As the half Elf deliberated upon his response, Ael reached into his pack and grabbed the extra blank pilgrimage journal he had brought. Using his finger he inscribed a rune on the leather cover and pressed his hand to it. The run was empowered and then faded away completely. 

“You’ve stalled long enough, interloper. The book. Now. Or we kill you.” The necromancer demanded holding his hand out. Ael sighed heavily, “Now that’s just too bad. But alright you drive a hard bargain.” Ael drew the boobytrapped tome and held it up. “You want it? Catch!” Ael tossed the book high into the air and then kicked Adrenas into motion. As they smashed, stomped and cut their way through the mass of undead, Ael called out back towards the necromancer. “Shar Bandu!” The tome in the half Elf’s hand lit up, with the rune on the cover glowing bright golden. “Time to go, boy!” The rider said to the mount. Adreans knew and responded in kind. The two barged through the mass just as Ael’s trap went off. A huge blast  of holy magic disintegrated the necromancer and most of his skeletons around him. The remaining one fell to pieces without their master’s magic. Ael and Adreans shot out onto the road leaving the town and leading out of Deadwind Pass just avoiding the blast. 

Rider and horse didn’t stop, they rode hard and fast, without looking back. Both of them had had enough of ghosts, undead, and necromancers. When they exited Deadwind Pass and entered Duskwood, the same eerie feeling Ael hated about this area returned. He huffed and pushed Adrenas faster. “We’re almost home, bud.” By nightfall, the duo arrived in Redridge. The familiar blue and gold of the Alliance made them both happy as they rode through Three Corners. And then finally they arrived back in Elwynn. It was late, nearly midnight, but they were so close so they rode on till they arrived at the Garrison sometime after three of four in the morning.

[doyoungbunnyagenda]

Crown Of Thorns; Bed Of Roses - k.dy: Chapter 1

 <- [preivous] |

Summary • Alcohol and late-night rendezvous were the only things keeping the young princess Y/N stable. Doyoung was an actor finding his relief his in cigarettes and dark streets. Ever since meeting one night, they both have spent their time picking up each other’s pieces and building each other from the ground up. When Y/N thinks her life is back on track, her childhood demons come back to bite her, however this time they have a proposal. That had to do with her father, herself and a shotgun... When Doyoung tries to rescue her from her demons, he puts himself in equally as much danger.

Pairing • actor!doyoung x modernprincess!reader

Genre • drama with a whole lot a angst and small traces of fluff. royalty!au

Word count • 3k

Warnings • underaged drinking(depends on where u live), drug usage, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of corrupt governments, arranged marriage, dialogue-heavy

Songs to listen to • War Crimes, Watch What Happens Next, I Felt Younger When We Met all by Waterparks I’m a big parxs fan okay, don’t judge

A/N • @original-jomi , @elite-puppy-seungminnie So this is what I’ve been doing for the whole Christmas break. This was so much fun to write. And as this is written by me, there is barely any fluff (like four lines in total). Well nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!!!

Winter 2017

“You think you can control me like I’m some doll of yours, where you play dress up and chuck them with whatever man you think best, I’m an adult for Christ’s sake.” She shouted at your father lounging on the expensive couch like he owns the entire country which he did.

“Come on, princess it’s only an arranged marriage, nothing out of the ordinary.”

She let out a scoff at the sound of his words.

“So do you even care about me as a person? Are you even putting my happiness into consideration, or do you see me as a business transaction, a peace treaty?” She questioned starting to get to her wit's end with her Dad’s attitude.

“No the point is you fall in love during the marriage, have you seen the Jung family? I remember going to that wedding and they were arranged.” Her protests fell silent.

“If you need more examples, me and your mother we‘re arranged, look where it left us.” The King proclaimed.

“With my mother dead and with a father who only cares about his own safety and nothing else.” She gave her father an ice-cold glare as he remained stunned on the couch. Before he could open his mouth too, argue back, She spoke,

“I don’t care about what you think anymore, I’m not marrying any man you decide to put with me and that’s final, not that you’ll listen anyway.” You cut him off while storming out of one of the many royal places situated, in the middle of the capital.

In her hand, she made sure she had her black face mask and her designer beanie that she received as a gift from one of her friends. Quickly, you darted out of the house, ignoring her father’s angry desperate pleas for her to listen to him, getting quieter and quieter the further she ran. She fixed her mask on her face and went down the back passageway behind the mansion. If anyone went through the front way, they definitely would’ve been caught by security. The builders were stupid enough not to build a security system at the back of the mansion. Breaking in was a piece of cake, all it took was a jump and they were in. The girl leapt over the hedge and made it out of the courtyard, her feet landing on the pavement with a thud. No one could tell who she was and it felt good for once.

Strolling the midnight streets of her country, she turned around the block of some random fast food place. The silence of the city was something she craved. The world around her felt too loud, so she treasured the time she got alone to herself. She just wished Her dad could understand from her perspective. Her point of view. Not his own twisted perspective. 

Hers.

 It was her life he was handing over not his own. Ever since the princess was born your dad traded around her like poker chips. Anything and everything that would improve public opinion about him and his family was on the table. 

Signing her up for any elite activity he could think of. Horse riding, she started at the age of seven. Archery, she had already won several gold medals in national tournaments. By the age of 13, she was already a world-renowned child ballet dancer. On top of all of that, she had to get extremely high grades, it didn’t matter if she couldn’t, she had too. It wasn’t like the king was doing it to better his daughter's future. He only cared about his image and how he can make his family look like a trophy family when it was far from the truth. Totally forgetting that the country still hasn’t forgotten about the ‘indecent” 13 years ago.

Nights like this were nights where she enjoyed getting drunk off her head. It was always fun to drink your problems away. Wandering into the liquor store, she always visits because they didn’t ask for ID. She swore they knew she was underage. As she once walked in with her ‘friends’ from private school one Saturday night many moons ago, buying out the whole store's stock luxury red wine. From one of the shelves, her hand grasped a bottle of hard liquor, shaking slightly as she grabbed it. You went up to the cashier and slammed a tenner on the counter, then left, leaving them very confused and alone in the shop once again. Her mask was now resting on her chin. She popped open the bottle and lifted the top of its neck to her chapped lips. The burn that ran down her throat felt electric, giving her body an instant buzz. She continued to wander down this lonely road, occasionally taking swigs from the drink. She knew it was irresponsible to go out at this time of night and get so drunk she couldn't stand up straight, but it was a means of escaping her reality. And trust me she would take any chance she got.

“Stupid father” The girl mumbled as she ambled and staggered down the streets. The bottle of liquor was long discarded on some random roadside and her mask was perched on her face. She somehow made her way to the shadiest part and poorest part of town. The level of unemployment was so high in this area that many people had resorted to other (less legal) means to keep themselves alive. She honestly didn’t blame them, when the rich were using all their tax money to live a lavish lifestyle, they were in the corners starving, outcasted by their government. The only thing they should be expected to do is rebel. She mumbled another curse word before stumbling into an alleyway collapsing on the floor. She was tired. She had been awake since 6 am in the morning. She swore her dad barely understood the basic concept of sleep. Her head banged against the flimsy garage opening behind her. The princess let out a curse at the sudden pain surging through her head accompanied by a pulsing migraine.

“Problem?” A low voice from above her spoke, his tone laced in darkness. her eyes remained plastered onto the floor, too shy to look up at the person above her. 

“A shy one, I see.” The person said to themselves, they sighed deeply again at her persistent silence and spoke once again,” Not replying when you’re spoken too, is quite impolite, with the clothes you’re wearing I’d expect more of your upbringing.” The person rudely remarked.

“Excuse me, who are you to say that?” She said, with a look of offence evident in her eyes. 

Abandoning her shyness, she got the courage to look at the person who dares to insult her. If only they knew who she was. When she looked up everything she was planning to say got caught in her throat. To only be replaced by a gasp. Their presence was intimidating, to say the least. A male from what you could tell. His shoulders were broad and his eyes a piercing shade of dark brown. If it wasn’t for the moonlight, she could have sworn his eyes were as black as the world around him. Tuffs of raven hair could be seen slightly poking outside of his midnight stained hat. If she didn’t look close enough, he could be mistaken for invisible. A cigarette was held in his nimble fingers and he brought out a lighter from his back pocket. He held it to his lips and lit a spark on the end. After he took his hit, the man looked back at the girl before him.

“You realise staring is also quite rude?” The man sighed sarcastically. She remained silent. “I expected a rich girl like you to know better. Do you know how many people I know who would love to wear that coat or hat of yours.”

She scoffed,” What right do you have to say that. Have you seen yourself? Your hat, no normal person could afford that here. Who’s a credit card is that coming from hmm?” She drunkenly slurred.

The man sighed at your state and chucked lightly.” I’m self-made man, no trust fund, no inheritance, nothing of that sort. I worked my life from the ground up and see where I am now.”

“Smoking a blunt alone in the most dangerous part of town? That definitely sounds like The Life to me.” She said.

“That’s right buttercup, I’m living the life aren’t I?.” He laughed and looked into your eyes. A warm feeling crept up in her chest and a small smile that he could not see graced her features.

“But what do you mean alone, I’m talking to you right? Or has the spice gotten to me and I’m just talking to a ghost.” He joked.

“That latter obviously.” She rolled her eyes and laughed along with her.

“I like your sense of humour, what’s your name?”

Her eyes went wide. If there was one thing he couldn’t know it was her name, it was too risky, her family’s perfect image would be cut in half and plunged into disrepair.

“No can do, it’s a secret.” She teased and playfully put her finger up to her mask. “What about you?” She questioned

“That’s a secret too, I’m afraid.” The man said while mimicking your action.

After laughing at their childishness for a couple of minutes. A comfortable silence filled the air. She observed the slight rise and fall in his chest as he took a couple more hits of the drug and discarded it on the ground and stomped out the tiny flame with his foot. She would blame it on her drunken self, but he reminded her of a prince. A prince you would find in a somewhat twisted modern fairy tale. With all his money he practically could be classified as one. He had a dominative aura which she couldn’t help but challenge. The man could obviously take a joke which was a welcomed change to what she was had known and gotten used to for the whole of her life. For once the girl felt comfortable. Unrestricted. At peace with her thoughts and it wasn’t the alcohol, it was because of him.

“I wish I could be you, you seem so carefree, I want your life.” She said, out of the blue.

“I’m not, trust me, it’s just because of the drugs, I’m not like this, I’m not the person your seeing now.”

“I don’t believe that.” She said her words breathy.”I believe this is your true self when drugs and alcohol get involved, there’s no hiding from yourself. The mistakes you make when your drunk and high aren’t mistakes, they’re not late-night regrets-“

The man interrupted her drunk ramblings and said,” So if me finding myself in the bed of my best friend’s roommate isn’t a mistake, then what was it?”

“It was what you wanted to do, ignoring all the consequences of the morning. When you're under the influence, your common sense is replaced by pure desire. You don't think and that's good, right? It's hard to think with a raging headache."

He sighed,” No that’s not it and I know from experience, your deepest desires aren’t always the best for you and the people around you. The life you are describing is the life you want to get away from..."

“Am I mad for wanting to kiss you right now?” She said unexpectedly, causing a slight gasp to escape from the man next to her.

“Yes, you’re crazy.”

“I would like to I think I’m perfectly sane.”

A blush crept on to the apples of his cheeks for the first time that night. His following words were stuttered. He was flustered.

“Your mother and father must have really gone wrong to create a child like you.”

“Just father here.” You replied 

“What about your mother?”

“Dead.”

“How long?”

“13 years...” she paused before taking a deep breath and continuing. “13 years dead, 13 years of hell for me. I swear ever since she died a switch was flipped in my father. Never known why.” She sighed looking down at the gravel floor.

“13 years ago, I was a runaway. Home was never the safest place, it was for the best. I’m pretty sure my parents didn’t even go looking for me.”

“Seems the both of us have had shitty up upbringings. I guess that makes us equal"

“Well then, about that kiss...” the man trailed off-topic.

“What about it?” You laughed slightly.

“I can’t kiss someone whose name I don’t know.”

The cheesy grin plastered under her mask was embarrassing. She pretended to think about it, but her answer was already set the minute he finished his sentence.

“Well in that case I guess-“

She felt a buzz in the back pocket of her black jeans and went silent.

“Oh, shit-“ She blurted out surprised that someone would call her at this hour. She checked her phone and saw it was her cousin Youngho. She rolled her eyes at the thought of her dad calling Youngho to sort her out, being too lazy to do it himself. She opted to answer the call and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Y/N, Where the fuck are you!?” He shouted from the other end of the line. She winced at the loud noise before continuing.”

“Somewhere, I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders and saw the man next to her stifle a giggle.

“You’re so stupid, it’s 4:29 am and you don’t know where you are? I'm so done with you. I’m tired of being woken up at 4 am with your father screeching at me to go pick you up.”

You heard your cousin sigh tiredly.

“Well it not my fault he doesn’t have my number, he could care less about where I am.” She argued back.

“Shut up and tell me where you are,” Youngho said defeatedly.

“You know where the 603’s last stop is, I’m near there.” She finally remembered.

“The most dangerous part of town, I see. Whatever I’m coming to pick you up hang on in there.” He said before hanging up.

“Your dad doesn’t have your number even my father was better than that.” The man next to you commented at your conversation.

“Does it look like my dad even gives two shits? He hasn’t bothered to get my new number after I changed my phone a year ago.”

“You don’t deserve that no one does.” He sympathised with her.

“Now you know why I run away. But it’s almost 5 am and I haven’t slept in 24 hours and I don’t fancy passing out on the streets so I think it’s time for me to leave.”

“Fair enough, see you never...” He paused as if he was waiting for her to say something.

“Y/N.” She said firmly 

“Doyoung.” He stated as she walked away from him, leaving him to wallow in his own thoughts and feelings.

She stumbled to the bus stop where she said she’ll meet Youngho. Her head rested against the metal pole and she sighed. A sigh full of contentment. Remembering what happened moments earlier, her heart warmed her chest and started to beat faster than had ever been. She felt lightheaded. Duplicates of what was in front of her kept appearing in her vision. Like some weird fever dream. Her eyes were about to flutter shut, bringing her into a dream-filled sleep but she was brought back to reality by a low but loud car horn ringing in her ears.

“Get in,” Youngho said, his tone clear and flat. Her cousin turned down the tinted windows of his Mercedes Benz and looked into her eyes with no emotion what so ever. She tried to search for his the usual bright look in his eyes, normally twinkling constantly rain or shine. But all she found was black. Pits of charcoal staring into her own. Because of her wasted state, the only way she could respond was with a laugh. Youngho continued to look unimpressed.

He pushed out the door of the car, for the girl to stumble in and hit her head on the headrest. Even though he found his cousin’s fumbling and slurring funny at times, he needed to keep a straight face.

“For fuck's sake Y/N, you’re so wasted that you can’t even get your seat belt on, here let me help.” Youngho sighed. He draped the seat belt over her half-asleep body and clicked it into the latch. He sat back in his seat and ran a hand through his brown locks. She looked up at him and noticed defined black circles under his eyes. He looked about as tired as she was. He yawned before speaking again.

“I’m tired of acting like your babysitter Y/N. Why can’t you just grow up and stop stupid stunts like this?” Youngho pleaded, tiredness laced in his voice.

“If you don’t want to feel like my babysitter, then stop acting like my dad, you’re my cousin. The three years between us doesn’t mean that much.” She protested weakly.

“Someone has to care about you, Y/N. Your dad is obviously doing a terrible job so that just leaves me, your amazing older cousin.” He chuckled hoping to loosen the atmosphere. It obviously worked as she started to smile again.

“What would I do without you?” She giggled

“Crash, burn and die,” Youngho said before placing his hands on the wheel.

“Just make sure not do this again,” He followed up,” We’re going to my place, by the way, it’s closer. Your dad was like a feral dog to me over the phone. Y’know there are much better ways of getting back at him.”

“Like what?” She questioned eyes half-open and mouth agape leaning her head against the window.

Instead of an answer, you were greeted with nothing but the sound fresh raindrops beating the window from outside and the sound of Youngho hitting the gas pedal and speeding off, into the night.

In due time, the young princess fell into a deep slumber, filled with cigarette dreams, expensive wines, cherry red lips, everlasting nights and a man named Doyoung.

[skvaderarts]

Soliloquy Chapter 1: Advent

You can check out the Masterlist here for more links to places to read!

Otherwise, you can read the new chapter below!

Chapter One: Advent

Stepping through the portal that Vergil had cut through the fabric of time and space was perhaps the most disorienting thing that Dante had experienced in his entire life. Well, maybe that was an understatement. Everything about being on Malet Island had been a massive trip into a new dimension of confusion and headaches. But this was a very close second. Everything seemed to go faster than it normally did but, at the same time, things were slow enough to take in and try to comprehend. It was a blur of bright light that fluctuated from blisteringly bright to suffocatingly dark that seemed to transcend time and space itself. And that was probably because it did transcend time and space itself.

Oh, and it was probably the most nauseating experience Dante had gone through in a long time.

As quickly as it had started, it ended. Although experience had taken less than a few seconds, it had felt more like a minute. Dante landed feet first on the cobblestone pavement, his head swaying slightly before he shook it to regain his senses. He stretched before looking around to gain a bearing on his location. Vergil was in the process of standing up and brushing himself off, as he hadn’t landed quite as gracefully as he normally did. Being kicked in the back spartan style through a tear in reality tended to do that to a person.

“Dang it,” Dante scoffed, trying and failing to repress a playful snicker,” I was hoping you’d land on your sword. You know, see what it feels like for yourself for once.”

Vergil straightened his coat and turned around to face Dante. He couldn’t have looked more unamused if he tried to. “Oh, I am very aware of what it feels like, brother.”

Dante shook his head and let out a short laugh. “How’d that happen? You stab yourself with your own sword?!”

Vergil didn’t answer his brother’s rhetorical question. Instead, he opted to just stare at him blankly, his silence saying everything that it needed to given the context of the situation. After a moment Dante slowly stopped laughing and stared back at him, a look somewhere disbelief and confusion crossing his face. “... Wow… um, yea... You need professional help, Vergil. That’s… that’s pretty messed up. You okay?”

In an unflinching display of unamused irritation, Vergil shook his head once. “Absolutely not.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. The alley they stood in was a veritable audio sink. Barely any ambient noise from the nearby road traveled far enough down this dead-end inlet to pierce the uncomfortable silence. Though neither of the twins would ever admit it, they were starting to notice how bad they were at basic conversation with one another. It was actually astounding how quickly almost every conversation they had turned to an unpleasant experience that dwelled on topics neither of them wanted to relive. Dante shifted in discomfort, switching his center of gravity back and forth between his left and right feet. He shook his head and sighed, looking down at the pavement for a moment before looking back up at this troubled brother again. What on earth went through his twin’s mind sometimes. “Seriously Vergil, you okay?”

The eldest Son of Sparda gave his brother a thoughtful look before turning to walk towards the end of the alley. Dante opted to follow him, coming to the conclusion that he had reached his tolerance for genuine progress with his brother today. Vergil didn’t seem to be equipped to deal with continuous emotional conversation, and Dante wasn’t going to try and force him. He’d made it a decent amount of time without finding Yamato embedded in his sternum, and his older twin had shown an unusually high amount of restraint in not putting it there.

The twins stepped out onto the main sidewalk and were greeted by the blinding light of the early morning sun peeking over the rooftops of the adjacent street. A stray car or two passed on either side of the road, contributing to what little noise there was to be heard. Rows of attached business lined the street, some with apartments above them. A few quaint townhouses were squeezed in between the shops; a few planters with thin birch trees sprouting from them lined the sidewalks providing a comfortable amount of shade to pedestrians. The smell of salty water permeated the air as a light breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. It was almost picturesque.

They both stood there quietly for a moment, silently taking in the calm. It was the first time in a long time that they had experienced this kind of quiet serenity. The first time in an immeasurably long time that they had just enjoyed silence the presence of each other’s company. Vergil glanced around the street, taking in the area. Just as he did, the vintage brass streets lights flickered off, their automated timer taking note of the ambient light level. Something seemed to occur to him, causing him to stop and turn to his younger twin. “Where are we then?” He spoke plainly, seemingly trying to change the subject from their previous conversation. Dante decided to chalk it up as a loss for now and simply move on. There would be another time. They had plenty of time.

He glanced up and down the street, taking in their surroundings. This area seemed vaguely familiar to him. He could almost sware that he had been here before, but wasn’t sure how recently or for what purpose. This wasn’t a part of town he spent much time in, but at least he knew what town they were in. “Capulet. Pretty sure this is Capulet.”

Vergil nodded slowly, seeming considering this for a moment. “Which way then?” Dante shrugged obtusely. “Can’t say for sure. I don’t spend much time down by the waterfront. I live further inland from here. You know, where all the crime is.”

Vergil scoffed at the comment, shaking his head. His twin brother really was something else, wasn’t he? Before he could enquire as to possible context clues or landmarks they could use to regain their bearings, Dante stepped forward and looked down the long street towards the right, nodding in confirmation to himself as if he’d figured something out. He casually started to walk in the direction he was facing, gesturing over his shoulder for Vergil to follow him as he headed away from where they had just been. “It’s this way. Now I recognize this place. Had a run-in with an interesting demon on a foggy morning a while back around here. Tried to take my head off with two blades,” He kept a steady pace up the street as Vergil caught up with him in the blink of an eye,” There’s a park up this way. It’s basically the center of town. Once we get there, I can tell where we are.”

With that, the pair walked briskly towards the end of the block, crossing the oversized roundabout that surrounded the square into the park. The lush greenery of the hedges that surrounded the park was bordered by a tall wrought iron fence. Each of the four crosswalks that connected to this central park area was aligned with entry gates for ease of foot traffic flow, so they didn’t have any issues finding a way in. The twins entered the park and followed the path into the central plaza where they both came to a stop for a moment to figure out their current position.

“We need to go this way, Vergil. Vergil?”

Just as Dante was going to question his brother’s silence and explain that they should go north from here towards the upper part of the hillside to reach his office, he stopped. Something had seemingly drawn Vergil’s attention, as he was standing slightly off to the side, only half facing him. Dante allowed his gaze to follow his older brother’s and then stopped once his eyes landed at the object of Vergil’s fascination.

Fuck… How on earth had he forgotten about the statue?

Capulet City was well known in the region for a few unfortunate happenings over the years, a status that had now been totally dwarfed by the calamitous Redgrave City Disaster. While being the resting place of the once again slumbering Temen-ni-gru was nothing to scoff at, and Abigale’s fires had raged for several days after the gargantuan demon had lit the town ablaze during his attack, being a mecca for demonic activity was, while an unattractive trait for a city to possess, a totally different thing entirely from having an entire city literally turned inside out from the tectonic plates up. But, one of the few good things the city was known for was this park and its towering onyx statue of the Dark Knight Sparda astride his dark steed, a horse that, in retrospect, was almost certainly a Geryon. People came from far and wide to take pictures of the monument the city had erected to the dark knight over the now filled in hole where Temen-ni-gru had once emerged from the earth. And in the process of trying to find their way home, Dante had completely forgotten that the stature was here as he had grown so accustomed to seeing it over the years that he didn’t even register it as he passed by it today. To be succinct, there were several things about this park that he had put out of his day to day thoughts, this fine piece of craftsmanship included.

Vergil seemed to be taking a moment to consider it, having not set foot here during or since it’s construction over a decade ago. The art installation’s significance was not lost on the eldest Son of Sparda, nor was it’s geographic location. They could both sense the demonic tower below them, a powerful reminder of the underworld’s never-ending connection to the human world. But then again, nothing about their father was lost on him. Not his legend, not his legacy, and most certainly his bottomless grief at his sudden and unexplained disappearance. They were all things he still carried with him and would never shed; a forthright burdon anchoring him firmly in all things that he did. Vergil shifted his gaze downward and then away from the monolith, quietly dispelling the profound internal battle that he would never win for now.

It was a simple, immutable fact that he still mourned their father’s loss and always would. He just hadn’t dwelled on it in a long while now.

Dante didn’t need to say anything. Interrupting his brother’s train of thought to garner the answer to a question that he already knew the answer too would be utterly pointless and unkind, and this was one silence he was willing to wait out for the sake of its importance. After what felt like a decade, Vergil finally turned back to his brother and joined him at his side, eager to leave this place and his unbridled feelings of grief behind him. He drifted past Dante as he approached, not making eye contact. “... Which way is it then? Or are we still lost?”

The younger twin pointed towards the northwest, taking a mental note of Vergil’s understandably unaccommodating mood. “It’s up there, probably about a mile or so. If we’re lucky, we might make it before one of the girls burns it down in a fit of rage or something.”

Vergil didn’t speak. He simply nodded in silence and followed Dante in the correct direction. Despite the fact that they were just traversing normal human streets, he couldn’t have felt more out of his element if he’s tried. It was the first time in a long time that he’d simply walked somewhere and something hadn’t jumped out and tried to kill him. And he didn’t have the emotion reserves left to contemplate how that made him feel right now.

-~-

The front of the office was surprisingly just as Dante had left it. The doors were still attached for once and the front windows were still intact. The only notable difference was the lack of light coming from the sign out front. It was only then that something occurred to the younger twin: how long had they been gone? It had only felt like a day or two, but unless the sign had shorted out (again) then they had been gone a little longer than he’s originally thought.

“So um Vergil,” Dante started as they approached the front steps,” About how long do you think we were gone?”

Vergil stopped as if to consider the question for a moment. He’d been quiet for about fifteen minutes now, more than likely still lingering on his internal baggage. “That could be rather hard to tell. Much like the human world, time works in zones in the underworld. The time discrepancies are just a bit more… pronounced in some places than they are here. Some parts of the underworld are stagnant and don’t have time at all. Some don’t even have a day and night cycle. And they are all prone to shift under certain circumstances.”

Dante sighed. “So we could have been gone ten minutes or ten years for all we know. That’s what you’re saying, right?”

Vergil shook his head. “Let me clarify. At best, we’ve been gone a few days, at most a few weeks. Volatile as the underworld’s perception of time maybe, I can’t think of a region where time distorts quite that far in the timespan of fewer than three days.”

Dante shrugged as they started up the front steps. “Nothing I can do about it now. But I guess that explains why you kinda look younger than me now, at least.”

Before Vergil could retort, a faint male voice on the other side of the door could be heard. It was unfamiliar to him. The voice was accompanied by the sounds of two other female voices from what his keen sense of hearing could pick up, but he couldn’t discern any of the owners. From what he could make out, the man was saying something about the rent not being free and him having the deed to something. 

Dante smirked and shook his head, snickering under his breath. This was no mystery to him. “Good to see that they are still hanging around.”

Just as Vergil was going to ask what Dante was going on about, the doors to the front of the office burst open, and out came one of three people came out. Vergil was correct in his assumptions of their genders from what he could tell, but the man he didn’t recognize at all. The man stopped dead in his tracks and let out a loud, clearly overjoyed laugh. “Well, I’ll be damn! Where the hell have you been for so long, Dante!”

At the mention of Dante’s name, the two women who were just stepping through the doorway (presumably walking a short distance behind him) raced ahead and stopped dead in their tracks. In unison, both of them shouted Dante’s name, shock, concern, and disbelief heavy in their tone. The trio stepped forward and immediately set upon the youngest Son of Sparda, greeting him happily. The one with the black hair that Vergil now recognized as Arkham’s daughter (though he couldn’t remember her name) Immediately batted at him in frustration. “You crazy bastard! I was starting to think you weren’t coming back!” The well-dressed man in the hat reached up and removed it, clasping it in his hand as he laughed a the scene unfolding in front of him. Dante seemed to be about three seconds shy of catching a bullet from his younger friend. She was clearly less than amused with his leave of absence.

“You’ve been gone for six weeks, Dante,” A familiar voice spoke,” I was just starting to wonder I you were coming back myself...”

Vergil felt a barely contained barrage of complex emotions hit him at the sight of the blond devil. Her presence truly took him off guard in the worst way possible. He wasn’t sure if he was showing his seething rage, and he’s wasn’t entirely sure if he cared at this moment in time either. Though no one had seemingly noticed his presence quite yet as he was standing at the bottom of the stairs and slightly behind his brother. But he recognized her anywhere. How could he forget such an instrumental person from his time on Malet Island?

“What the girls are trying to say is that you have perfect timing because we were just having a little conversation about this,” The older gentleman produced a white envelope from his pocket and returned it to Dante in one elegant movement, still laughing to himself as he did so. 

Dante shook his head and allowed a smirk to cross his face. “You guys are just the worst, ya know that. I mean, I take a vacation for a few weeks and you figure I’m not coming back?” There was a tone of humor to his jest that was immediately lost when he glanced back over his shoulder and recalled the fact that Vergil was still with him. And that he looked undeniably pissed. It wasn’t something that anyone else but him would probably pick up on, but it didn’t slip past him for a second. “Um, Vergil?” Three additional sets of eyes followed Dante to his brother as he said his name, just noticing him for the first time in their excitement. Lady looked shocked, to say the least, Morrison was looking back and forth between the twins in obvious bewilderment and Trish… well, Trish and Vergil were making what was perhaps the most uncomfortable eye contact of their respective lives. Vergil seemed to be looking into her more than he was at her, obviously thinking rather intensely and Trish was returning his stare, albeit with a look of caution akin to the sort that you would give a big cat that looked ready to attack if you approached it in the wild.

It took Dante all of about three milliseconds to figure out what the issue was here and, although he didn’t understand the history behind it, he wasn’t stupid enough to be ignorant of the notion that Trish and Vergil had prior. And he also wasn’t stupid enough to not notice that Vergil was very clearly considering entering devil trigger and ripping her throat out with his bare hands. Dante carefully placed himself just close enough between them that it made further action on either of their ends unfeasible and he shot Vergil a look, clearly asking him what was going on. Trish took the opportunity to step towards the others and give the twins a parting look, silent trepidation evident in her gaze. “... We were just leaving. Let’s have this conversation later.”

Dante wasn’t sure which of them she was actually addressing, but he didn’t get much time to think about it as, as if from nowhere, a loud screech split through the air. Everyone stopped and turned their head in the direction of the van that had just pulled up, missing the stairs and the side of the building by mere centimeters. Dante would’ve laughed at the awful timing if it might not have been the spark that could set everything alight. He heard a car door open and then slam shut on the opposite side of the car and then a familiar face stepped around the front of the car. The white-haired young man stopped dead in his tracks as if he had just been slammed face-first into an invisible brick wall. He stared in evident shock, wide-eyed at the sight before him before taking a decided far left into instantaneous, unbridled rage, his casual demeanor shattering like glass. At that, Dante let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and chuckled to himself under his breath. Nero really was Vergil’s son, wasn’t he? “Hey, Nero…”

The younger white-haired man shot him a look of white-hot seething rage mixed with other emotions he couldn’t quite place, but he knew they were probably bad nonetheless. Oh shit.

“Dante,” Nero shouted at the top of his lungs,” What the fuck is this bullshit?!”

And then he triggered.

… Oh shit...

[the--blackdahlia]

Private Dancer (Tommy x Nikki)

Title: Private Dancer

Summary: Tommy has a secret side job no one knows about.

Warnings: Unprotected Sex (18+ only. Wrap it up guys), language, stripping

AN: I might have talked about this with @saint-of-los-angeles. And thank you to @flamencodiva for helping!

“No gig tonight,” Vince sighed as he leaned on the counter. Mick had crashed at the apartment for the night, saying it was none of their damn business why, but everyone knew he didn’t want to go back to that girlfriend of his. Tommy was sitting at a small table they had, looking half dead. Nikki was at the fridge, looking at nothing in particular, because there was nothing in there. And Mick was on the couch, laying like he was a vampire.

“Damn,” Nikki sighed, slamming the fridge door. “There’s not food at all in this place.” Tommy yawned and reached for his wallet. It was laying in a mess of newspapers across from him. He took out a stack of ones and handed it to Nikki.

“Buy yourself something nice,” Tommy told him. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Where the hell did you get this?” Vince asked, looking over Nikki’s shoulder. Tommy was heading towards the room he shared with Vince.

“Dad gave me some money. I traded it in for ones,” He waved them off before slamming the bedroom door and collapsing on his bed. Mick got off the couch and looked at the stack of ones in Nikki’s hand.

“Think that’s where he went last night?” Vince asked.

“Until three in the morning? I don’t think so,” Mick shook his head.

“What the fuck is he up to?” Nikki asked with a frown.

“I don’t know, but I’m not questioning a gift,” Vince snagged the money from Nikki’s hand. “Food and booze on Tommy!” He grabbed his jacket and headed out of the apartment. Nikki looked over at Mick, who shrugged before following Vince. Nikki wanted to go ask Tommy about the money, but he decided to not push it. He just headed out the door after Mick and Vince.

He’d ask Tommy about it later.

****

Tommy was up and alert later in the afternoon. Vince was drinking the beer that Tommy had paid for, standing on the balcony watching the cute girls go by. Nikki laid the change from the store trip on the table as Tommy came into the kitchen area.

“What’s this?” Tommy asked.

“What was left over from the stack you gave me,” Nikki told him. “Where did you get that from?”

“I already told you. Dad felt bad for me and gave me some money,” Tommy shrugged. “I see you guys got the basic food groups. Junk and beer.” He took a beer from the fridge and cracked it open. “Where’d Mick go?”

“Home I think,” Nikki shrugged. Vince came in for another can.

“Yo, T-Bone!” Vince laughed. “Strip club tonight. You, me, the prince of darkness over there, and we’ll even drag the old man along. How’s that sound?”

“Great...but I can’t,” Tommy told him. “Prior engagement.”

“With who?” Vince asked, narrowing his eyes some.

“My sister has this big band thing at school. I promised her I’d be there,” Tommy told them, not looking them in the eye. “So, if I get done in enough time, I’ll swing by.”

“Dude, you didn’t care about shit Athena did when we were in school,” Vince told him. “What’s changed?”

“I’m just trying to be supportive okay? Back off.” Tommy rolled his eyes. Nikki and Vince gave each other a look, but dropped the subject.

Something was off with Tommy, and Nikki was going to get to the bottom of it.

****

Tommy left the apartment well before Nikki and Vince did. Nikki almost wanted to tail him, to find out if he was actually going to see Athena, but he decided not to mess with it. Tommy was a big boy. He could take care of himself.

“Mick’s here,” Vince told him. “Let’s go.”

“Fine,” Nikki huffed. He really wanted to work on music for their next album, but they haven't even found a label that wanted them yet. They were just going to have to try harder, and that meant writing better songs. But Vince wasn’t having it.

They made their way to the strip, one of their favorite clubs was booming. They didn’t seem to notice the sign that said “Ladies Night” on the marquee as they made their way in. But Vince froze as they came towards the stage.

“Son of a bitch,” He groaned. There were some men in the crowd, but there were a lot of women. And they were watching the half naked men on the stages dancing. “We picked the wrong night.”

“Let’s go to the one across the street,” Mick grumbled. “They’ve got better booze anyway.” Vince and Mick made their way out, but one of the waitresses that was working stopped Nikki to talk to him, separating him from the group.

“Okay everyone! We have a special treat for you tonight!” The loudspeaker said. The waitress smiled at Nikki.

“This will be my break,” She told him. “This guy is fucking amazing. He’ll keep everyone attention so I can take a smoke.”

“Who is it?” Nikki asked. Nikki looked up at the speaker as “Live Wire” started playing. “What the fuck?” He asked himself. Their album wasn’t that big. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to use it for their strip routine.

“It’s…. Johnny Thunder!”

Nikki watched as the girls went crazy for this guy. He couldn't see his face, but man, he was scrawny. Nikki just laughed a little and rolled his eyes before his eye caught something.

A mighty mouse tattoo on his right arm.

“No way…” Nikki gasped, making his way towards the stage.

And sure enough, it was Tommy up there on the stage, wearing nothing more than a g-string and dancing like his life depended on it. Women were throwing money at him, and a few of the guys in the audience were eyeing him like they were hungry for him.

And Nikki had to admit, he was one of those guys. Tommy had some real moves, moves that Nikki had never really dreamed of before. But then again, the dreams he had about Tommy usually involved a bed, not a stage. He had pushed down those dreams, repressed them, but watching Tommy stripping on that stage was not helping keep them down. Or keep anything down for that matter.

Before the show was over, Nikki made a decision. He headed over to the manager, who was watching the performance.

“How much for a private dance?” Nikki asked. The manager knew the boys well, and with a knowing look, he laughed a bit.

“Just give me fifty. It’ll end up back in your pocket anyway,” The manager laughed. Nikki fumbled around, looking through his wallet.

“I got thirty-five,” Nikki sighed. The manager looked like he was thinking for a moment.

“I’ll take it,” He said. “Just don’t tell any of the other patrons. I always charge Vince double the going rate.” He pointed Nikki towards the private rooms, which Nikki had been to his fair share of times. Sometimes with Tommy right beside him.

Nikki sat on the couch in the room. The music from the rest of the club was playing in there, but a lot lower than the rest. Nikki kept watching the door, waiting.

****

“Tommy,” The manager said. Tommy was at the bar, talking to the bartender and counting his haul from the dance. Tommy looked up at him. “You got a private dance in the champange room.” He told him. Tommy’s eyes lit up. He had done a handful of them since he had started doing this. They usually got so drunk that they tipped him really well.

He loved private dances.

“Okay, I’m on it,” Tommy winked at the bartender and made his way towards the private rooms. He took a deep breath and glance in. He just saw a bunch of blank hair and smiled. He liked when he could pretend that it was someone else.

Someone he wanted but couldn’t have.

He opened the door and made his way in. Taking a deep breath, he ran his hands on the guy sitting on the couch, making his way around without losing contact.

But then he froze when he saw who it was.

“N-Nikki…” Tommy pulled his hand back like he had been burned. “What...what are you doing here?”

“I think I could ask you the same,” Nikki told him.

“Fuck,” Tommy whispered. “You weren’t supposed to know about this.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Nikki asked. “I wouldn’t have judged.”

“Because I…” Tommy waited a second. “Wait, you paid to get back here? Why?”

“I have my reasons,” Nikki crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, I did pay for a dance. Am I going to get it?” 

Tommy closed his eyes. This was a nightmare. Because everything could be seen and he was more than likely going to get hard from doing this. Because all his wet dreams for the past few months had involved the dark haired bassist. Taking a deep breath, Tommy tried to bury his feelings. Turning around he closed his eyes and cracked his neck. Turning around he let the music dictate his movements as he walked toward Nikki and began gyrating his hips. He rolled his abdomen as his hand slipped down his bare flesh.  

“Fuck,” Nikki whispered, watching Tommy’s moves. “Where’d you learn to do all this?”

“Practice,” Tommy told him. “Been doing this since I turned 18. Well, legally been doing this since I turned 18.” Nikki reached out to touch Tommy, but he took a step back. “There’s rules Nik.”

“Rules?” Nikki frowned. “But I thought that was only for the girls.”

“Nope,” Tommy continued to touch himself and gyrate his hips. “Applies to all dancers.”

“That means no sex back here, doesn’t it?” Nikki asked. Tommy nodded. Nikki wasn’t sure how much he could take. Watching Tommy was driving him crazy. Not being able to touch him was driving him even crazier.

“You okay?” Tommy asked him, taking the chair across from him to show off some more moves.

“Tommy…” Nikki all but moaned. “Fuck. We gotta get out of here, or I’m gonna end up breaking one of the rules.” Tommy stopped moving and looked up at Nikki.

“What do you mean?” Tommy asked.

“Fuck…” Nikki sighed. “I...I keep dreaming about taking you back to bed…” Nikki explained. “And you keep dancing like that, I’m gonna…”

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” Tommy admitted, resuming his dancing. He could feel Nikki’s eyes on him with every move. “Maybe, we could get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Nikki jumped up.

“I gotta change and cash out for the night,” Tommy told him. “Twenty minutes, tops.”

“Make it fifteen,” Nikki smirked at him. “I’ll be waiting.”

*****

Tommy rushed through his end of the night procedures and was leaving the club. He saw Nikki and felt butterflies in his stomach. What if this was all just another amazing dream? What if Nikki was just drunk and just wanted a quick and easy lay?

Before he could break his train of thought, Nikki had him pressed up against the alley wall, kissing him with all he had. It took Tommy’s breath as Nikki pulled back from him, a smirk on his face.

“Better than I thought,” He laughed. Tommy didn’t even have time to answer before Nikki was dragging him the block back to the apartment. “Hello?” Nikki called out as they came home. The apartment was silent, for once.

“No one home?” Tommy asked. Nikki answered him by kissing him again, pulling Tommy’s body against his and holding him in place. Tommy pressed his hips against Nikki’s and was rewarded with something poking at him and a moan from the bassist.

“Let’s get to my room,” Nikki gasped.

“I gotta grab something first,” Tommy told him. “Meet you there.” He all but ran to the room he shared with Vince and searched his stuff, finding the bottle he needed and going to Nikki’s room. He didn’t waste time with a proper show. He stripped all his clothes off quickly, Nikki following suit.

“Fuck, you look amazing,” Nikki said, like he hadn’t just seen Tommy pretty much naked not even twenty minutes before. He pulled Tommy onto the bed. “What did you need from your room?”

“You’ll need this,” Tommy told him, handing him a bottle of lube. Nikki smirked.

“Dirty boy,” He laughed before he slicked up his first finger. He ran it over Tommy’s hole as he laid back, long legs spread. Tommy gasped softly as Nikki pushed the first finger in, watching Tommy’s face to gauge how he was feeling.

“Fingers are a little thicker than mine,” Tommy told him. “Guess that’s why you play bass.”

“You do this often?” Nikki asked with a smirk as he fingered Tommy, pulling his first finger out and slicking up two, pushing two in and earning a moan from the drummer.

“Fuck Nik,” Tommy moaned, gripping at Nikki’s sheets. “Yes I do.” Nikki leaned over and pressed his lips to Tommy, working him open with two fingers and swallowing the moans as he kissed him deeply. Once Tommy felt loose with two fingers, Nikki added a third, getting all sorts of wonderful noises to fall out of his mouth.

“Do you think you’re ready for me?” Nikki asked. Tommy just nodded. He needed him so bad. “Condom?”

“No. Just take me,” Tommy told him. Nikki nodded as he poured some of the lube on himself, making sure he was nice and slick. He hooked one of Tommy’s long legs over his shoulder as he lined himself up to Tommy’s hole and slowly started to push in. The tight heat made the older man moan loudly, closing his eyes to focus on it.

“Shit,” Nikki gasped. He opened his eyes to look down at Tommy. His eyes were closed and he took deep breaths. “You okay T-bone?”

“Y-yeah,” Tommy told him.

“You ready?”

“Yeah,” Tommy opened his eyes and looked up at Nikki as he started to make slow thrusts into the drummer. “Fuck…”

“You feel amazing,” Nikki told him. He angled his hips, and before he knew it, Tommy was a withering, moaning mess under him.

“Do that again!” Tommy begged. Nikki smiled and kept the same angle, hitting that spot that made Tommy feel like he had won the lottery, been to the moon, and drove a Ferrari all rolled into one. Nikki planted his lips on Tommy’s again, his tongue moving into Tommy’s mouth. As Nikki pulled back, Tommy pulled on his bottom lip with his teeth, making Nikki moan.

“Fuck!” Nikki growled, picking up the pace. He could feel himself coming to the edge. It wasn’t going to take much longer…

“Nikki!” Tommy called out. “I’m...I’m gonna…”

“Cum for me baby boy,” Nikki demanded. He reached between them and grabbed Tommy. It only took a few strokes before Tommy shot his load on his stomach. That caused Tommy to tighten around Nikki. That pulled the bassist over the edge, cumming inside Tommy. He braced himself up, keeping himself from falling onto Tommy.

“Oh fuck,” Tommy breathed. “That was…”

“Fucking amazing,” Nikki smirked down at him. He slowly pulled out of the drummer, making him whimper a bit. Nikki rolled off of him, laying by him. “We could’ve done this sooner if you had told me about your side job.”

“Yeah, I just wasn’t ready to tell you,” Tommy admitted. Nikki reached down to grab one of their shirts. He cleaned Tommy off before throwing the shirt in the corner and wrapping his arms around Tommy, holding him close. “So...when are you kicking me out of your bed?”

“When we have to get up for our gig tomorrow,” Nikki mumbled. “But then afterwards, you’re coming right back here.” He yawned and kept Tommy close. He placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Night Tommy.”

“Night Nikki,” Tommy told him before drifting off to sleep.

He needed his rest for the encore performance the next morning, after all.

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