#here's to keep hoping my lecturer will finalize my design tomorrow

[rebtrovert-girl]

As I keep watching 'Love Next Door' episodes, I keep getting the irked of how laidback Choi Seung-hyo make an architect's life look like

[bonny-kookoo]

Tiny Treasures | JJK x Reader | 💜🐾(☁️)🔞

Commission for @eyerin !! Thank you sm for that request! 💖

Want to request too? Take a look at my ko-fi then! (ko-fi.com/bonnykookoo)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader

Genre: hybrid AU, non-idol!AU, Web-Designer!Jungkook, bunny hybrid!Reader, featuring Taehyung: your local scatterbrain (TM)

Warnings: absolute fluff, it’s cotton candy I swear, so soft, so sweet, oh lord, reader is shy and sweet, Jungkook is whipped, he’s so sweet with her ugh, this is now my official emotional support Koo, some mentions of past abuse/neglect, did I mention that kook is whipped, because his heart go boom boom whenever reader so much as BREATHES, strength kink (hint), your local praise and size kink say hi as well, no smut would you believe it, possibly future parts? I dont know I just love them okay

Summary: Jungkook was a hopeless romantic believing in love at first sight- and then there was you, a bunny experiencing the tiny treasures of life for the first time. Together, with him.

It's busy in Jungkooks apartment- something thats unusual, considering that technically, the young man lives alone, doesn't really fuck around, and works at home as well ever since he took on the job as a web-designer. There was no reason to cause such an amount of stress in his home- other than the simple fact of his best friend currently pacing around, steps so fast and hard that Jungkook scared his flooring would soon melt underneath the older ones shoes he didn't take off in a rush. There were bags on his couch, bags on his counter, and a backpack somewhere in his living room- all because of;

"Okay so, she's okay with eating almost everything BUT!" Taehyung holds his finger up as if he's lecturing a child in front of him- which he's not, Jungkook is a full grown adult at this point, and looks at him unimpressed with furrowed brows as his older friend lists up things he needs to keep in mind for the hybrid he's looking after for the day. "Please make sure she's hydrated, she tends to forget to drink during the day. If she does and gets a headache there's medication in the bag that I've put on the couch- you've seen it right? Should I show you again?" He stresses, and Jungkook holds his friend's shoulders for a moment.

"Can you like, breathe for a moment please?" He says, and Taehyung nods, following the instructions for a moment before Jungkook continues. "Okay great. Now that you're not hyperventilating anymore I can tell you that yes, I've seen the bag-" He says, pointing towards the couch that's littered with so many things it seems like he's giving the hybrid up for adoption today instead of just dropping her off until tomorrow. "Second of all, I've taken care of Yoongi before and he's still alive, what's so different? Just because she's a bunny- or was it hare- wait is there a difference..?" Jungkook drawls off, suddenly thinking and not quite remembering if he's ever quite asked himself the difference of these two things. Taehyung however seems offended by that.

"Jungkook, she's a BUNNY, not a hare! That's a HUGE difference!" He whines out, and Jungkook looks at him a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Oh god maybe I shouldn't go, this is a bad idea.." He says, already taking out his phone to cancel the date he has tonight, but jungkook holds the elders friend before he can make that mistake. Taehyung was a busy man, running a hybrid rehabilitation center in Seoul and Daegu- while talking to Busan's department for partnership. He really loves his job- but sometimes he gets too invested in it, just like now. He's finally got a date for himself after years of being alone; but he almost shot the poor woman down when he remembered that you, a newly rescued hybrid was staying at his home- something he never did before. Sure, he had taken over the rehabilitation of hybrids before, but he had never ever taken a case home with him. But after meeting you, seeing you, and knowing what you've been put through, his heart simply couldn't leave you at the shelter- even though he knew that it was probably the best place to be for you. But he had done what he had done now- there was no turning back with you. He couldn't leave you alone yet, so Jungkook had volunteered to look after you for the day and night, until Taehyung would pick you up the next day. The younger one had always looked after Yoongi, a cat hybrid later on adopted by Jung Hoseok, a friend of both of them; so he personally felt good about taking you in.

It was just for a day- what could go wrong?

"Come on, don't you trust me? Or is she like, super aggressive or something?" Jungkook asks, and Taehyung sighs. He hasn't told the younger one much about you, believing it was bad karma to talk about others when they weren't present. Yet this time he'd have to make an exception- because Jungkook needed to know at least some things about you and where you came from. Everything else would be unfair.

Taehyung sighed. "She's a category 3, so she's still recovering from her past home. She's just.. super shy and timid, and gets scared pretty easily so, I'm just terrified Jungkook. I know you don't want to cause any harm, but what if something happens and she just falls back? She's come so far these days, you should've seen her when I got her.." He said, and Jungkook looked at him- the eyes of the younger serious, reminding Taehyung that deep inside, he was more than just a schoolfriend. "When she got to me, she didn't even know how to use cutlery Kook. She.." But Jungkook smiled, placing a hand to his friend's shoulder in reassurance.

"I get it. I'll do my best, okay?" He says. "I promise I'll call you as soon as something's up, okay?" He says, and Taehyung nods. With a small wave he leaves the apartment to pick you up from the shelter- and Jungkook, in exchange, began to rummage through the plastic bags Taehyung had dumped onto his couch.

He was familiar with hybrids to some degree- he never really had owned one, and neither did his family. He knew that his brother owned a dog hybrid, but he had yet to bring him to family gatherings; Jungkook had never seen the puppy hybrid himself. His parents however said that she was nice, and Jungkook never really had any bad experiences with them. He sometimes visited Taehyung at work and conversed with some of the more chatty hybrids.

He was familiar with caring for them to some degree. As already stated before, he'd looked after 'grumpy-cat' Yoongi a lot back in the days when he was still in the center for rehabilitation. Jungkook knew about their different preferences in food, and their different behaviors. He, sadly, also knew about the mistreatment most of the hybrids went through before getting to the center into Taehyungs and his Staff's care- and he always hated it. The stories he sometimes heard made him sleepless during the night, made him research donation websites just to cleanse his mind for the moment.

But it only ever lasted until the next case would turn up at Taehyung's doorstep.

Quite frankly, Jungkook didn't know what he'd expected. After all, he'd never seen you in person, he simply went after Taehyungs description of you, but what was now standing at his door, was something that erased any thought he may had prior to opening it.

You were so.. delicate? Cute? He's never used the word 'cute' for a person before, because he simply thought aegyo and all of that was something girls put up for a facade of innocence. He hated that with a passion, cringing any time he saw it- yet there was, in his opinion, no other word that described you better. You were just as shy as Taehyung said, yet you forced yourself to bow a little as a greeting, taking a small step back however when Jungkook snapped out of his thoughts and opened the door fully to step aside. He threw a smile your way, hoping it could ease your nerves a little- and it seemed to work, because he saw your lips turn a bit upwards into a shy smile.

He felt as if he'd just won a ranked overwatch match against the seoul dynasty.

"Okay, I'm gonna pick you up tomorrow ASAP, okay? Are you gonna be fine here?" Taehyung asked you, and you looked over his shoulder- your bright eyes meeting Jungkooks, who was leaning against his kitchen counter, smiling boyishly while waving a little. It made you feel okay; he seemed nice enough, and after all, any friend of Taehyungs was a friend of yours. He'd taught you that. So you nodded, and Taehyung smiled, patting your head for a moment, your ears flopping to the sides before standing upright again after his hand left you. He waved goodbye and seemed a bit reluctant to leave- but you knew that Taehyung was excited for his date. He'd talked about nothing else these past days, and it made you happy to see him so giddy over something.

"So." Jungkook started, his voice fitting him, you thought. He looked fit, and comfortable to you- his oversized sweater probably big enough for you to hide in. Wait- what was that thought?! You averted your eyes immediately, ears shyly drooping backwards as you began to shuffle your fluffy socks on his wooden floor, the laminate suddenly super interesting. "Taehyung said you should have a nice healthy dinner- but I may forgot to buy groceries, so, is it okay for you to tag along?" He asked. "You can choose what you want to eat while we're at it, too." He said, and you perked up at that.

"I can?" You asked, ears slowly moving into a more confident position again, and he smiled at that achievement.

"Sure!" He exclaimed, and walked towards the door, grabbing his jacket, before he looked at you. You were staring at something- and as he followed your gaze, he saw your shoes. Simple sneakers in colors that fit your current clothes, but, was he connecting the dots correctly? He didn't want to offend you in case you were simply deep in thought, so he simply waited, slipping on his own shoes, as he watched you out of the corner of his eyes.

You really were struggling to tie your shoes.

So he simply sat down on the small step that divided his entrance from the rest of his apartment, and tapped the top of his knee. "Come here, I'll help." He said, and your eyes widened, shaking your head.

"I'll- I'll get your pants dirty.." You said worriedly, but Jungkook shook his head again.

"Don't worry about that." He said, and you hesitantly placed your shoe on his knee with just the very tip- something that made him smile a bit before he placed it down properly, tying the laces quickly.

"Sorry." You apologized, but he shook his head yet again as he tied the other.

"It's fine." He simply said, before you both got up, going outside. "Do you, uhm.." He began, nervously picking on the slight fuzz of his skin against his chin before he finished, by holding his hand out. "You know, so you don't, accidentally get lost or something. Taehyung would kill me." He laughed, and you blushed, before hesitantly taking his larger hand, holding it as he walked to the nearby grocery store with you.

Inside, it was busy as usual- but Taehyung typically didn't take you out during these hours, something about you maybe becoming overloaded by sensations and sounds. You've never been to a grocery like this before though- because while yes, it was a lot, Jungkooks hand never left yours even for a second. He calmly explained things you seemed interested in, and his entire presence calmed you down, even though you didn't really know him at all.

But your instincts were telling you that he was a good person; and until now, they had never been wrong.

"So, which one do you like?" He asked, pulling you from your thoughts as you were drifting off a little. He smiled at you, while you were looking at the shelves, pointing towards a pack of ramen. You've never tried it, but you had been interested when you saw them at Taehyungs place once or twice- however, back then you had been too shy to ask if you could maybe try it sometimes. "Hmm.. you sure about this one? It's pretty spicy sweetheart." He said, letting the petname slip as your ear flinched a bit into his direction, eyes widening a bit. Taehyung sometimes called you sweetheart as well- but somehow, in some weird way, it made you feel all tingly inside hearing it from Jungkook. "Uhm.. maybe, I can buy this one, and this chicken flavoured one- you can taste mine, and if you like it, we can switch. Okay?" He explained, and you nodded, not really listening anymore as you looked at him with an almost fascinated expression.

Taehyung had told you he had never truly taken care of a female hybrid, let alone a rehab-case such as you were. But he seemed so nice, so sweet, it was hard to imagine him not owning a hybrid- or being single. While Taehyung had never outright said that Jungkook was, you assumed so by the hints you noticed here and there. No other scent than his in his home, and you also remember Taehyung teasing the younger yesterday over the phone, saying something that at least Taehyung was getting himself some dating action.

For some weird reason, knowing that Jungkook didn't have a partner made you feel nice.

But then you remembered his words. "But- what will you eat if I eat yours?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"We'll simply switch then. I don't mind." He says, placing both packs in the shopping cart as you watched him. Your old home hadn't been too kind to you, yet you still didn't know anything else than the treatment you got back there. It was still new to you how easy going some people were, how much freedom you actually had. You've seen kids on swings last week, and a girl feeding a stray cat in an alleyway. Those were things you've never seen before.

"Okay, now the fun part." He says, and you look up at him, his head nodding towards something specific.

Icecream.

Your eyes widened seeing all the different packages and flavours, making your ears droop a bit in confusion. You were lost; what should you choose? You didn't know any of these except some flavors Taehyung had at his house. Jungkook, already connecting the dots, opens one of the doors. "Do you like fruity things? I personally like mild flavors, like vanilla." He says, picking a box of two separate containers. "How about this one?" He asks, and you nod excitedly.

"Yes please.!" You say, pretty much vibrating on the spot as Jungkook places the box into the cart, making an elderly lady next to the two of you chuckle.

"So sweet. And great manners too!" She says, before a hybrid walks up to her; his bright orange badge showing that the dog hybrid was a service worker. "Take good care of her, young man, yes?" She says, and Jungkook nods, squeezing your hand a little tighter as you both watch the lady getting escorted towards the cashiering section.

Jungkook had honestly never really thought about taking care of his own hybrid. He always worried that his friend's teasing was actually real- that he was too immature to quite take care of another living being except his own. Depp down he knew of course that he was capable of that, but insecurities sometimes still bit at his soul from the inside. He couldn't do much about that- he was a hopeless person in that department; still believing in love at first sight, and that human-hybrid relationships are nothing weird.He secretly loved romantic dramas, read shōjo mangas at the bookstore whenever he was too scared to buy them- afraid of being teased for it. He hated perfumes, enjoyed soft smells and fabrics, and even knew how to braid hair. He may looked like a typical muscle-head; with nothing filling his brain apart from protein powder and the need to work out and survive off of energy drinks and leftover cup noodles, but that wasn't really who he was. He simply liked to take care of himself, nothing more. He didn't work out for anyone but himself.

For some reason he enjoyed taking care of you like this. You were so sweet, so cute, that he couldn't help but already feel a little protective of you- that fact having only little to do with Taehyung. Maybe he simply needed a small push into the right direction to finally experience what it was like to have a hybrid, to test out what it was like to live with one.

But he didn't just want a hybrid, he noticed as he watched you carefully place the items of the shopping cart on the cash register, just like he'd asked you to do-

He wanted you.

He could feel someone staring at him. It was like it was piercing his neck, like laser dots on his skin, and it should freak him out like nothing else if it wasn't for the fact that he knew it couldn't be any other than you. He looked at the pot he was putting water in, the reflection showing your form sneakily watching him from the entrance of the kitchen. He chuckled. "Hm.." He began, dramatically sighing. "I wish there was a certain sweet bunny hybrid here to help me cook.. but I guess she's too busy.." He hummed, as he made sure the water in the pot was enough for one pack, before he turned around, your form now standing a few steps behind him. "Oh?" He said, acting surprised as you shyly smiled.

"Can I help.?" You asked, and he nodded, patting the counter to which you walked, squeaking cutely as he simply turned you around with gentle hands, lifting you up to sit between the stove on one side, and the sink on the other. You'd somehow come to the conclusion already that he was quite strong- but the short taste you got of his strength made your heart race a little. It was instinctively, really; your kind looked for partners with certain attributes, after all. They were supposed to protect you and your offspring at some point- even though that part made you look at your knees in shame, before Jungkook snapped you out of your thoughts before they could sway.

"Can you open the packages for me?" He asks, and you nod, taking them out of his hands and opening the foil carefully. You take out the still hard noodles before the flavor pack falls out, slapping on the floor as it falls down out of your hand. Jungkook however doesn't scold you- simply picks it up and gives it to you, and you look at him for a moment- watching him for any indication that he's mad. But he's not.

It's as if nothing had happened.

So you put the flavor pack and tiny oil package on top of the noodle blocks, so carefully Jungkook has to force himself not to just simply scream from how concentrated you look doing something so simple. "When the water boils, like, when it bubbles a lot, you can put these packs in, alright?" He says, and you nod, as if he's giving you instructions on how to prepare for war. He can't help himself at that moment, grinning so hard his dimples show as he reaches out to pet your head.

It's a little like Taehyung, but it feels a lot different.

With Taehyung, while you do feel safe and comfortable around him, and it feels nice, it's not at all like Jungkook. The younger one makes your heart race. He makes your pride swell, and your eyes sparkle- it's as if you've been given an award for the greatest achievement ever. You almost whine when he lets go.

So you later on put the packs into the boiling water with so much precision, immediately seeking his approval right after, to which he smiles at you. "Good job, Bunny." He says, and pets your head, absentmindedly moving the palm of his hand from the top of your head to instead cradle your cheek. Its such a soft and gentle touch that you almost go limp- closing your eyes and leaning into it. He only notices that when he looks back from the pots- now turned down a bit to a simmer as to not overcook- and his heart surely bursts in that moment.

You look so.. there's no word in Jungkooks head to properly describe the view he has, that image of you in front of him. He can't help himself- begins to trace his thumb against the soft skin, watching your ears relax and flop down. He can't imagine that someone like you could ever be done harm to; and while he doesn't know much about your past, he's sure it hadn't been pretty. It makes him want to just keep you right here, in his apartment, close to him, where he can make sure no one could ever cause you to be upset.

Both of you are abruptly pulled out of your thoughts by his phone ringing, the device so badly placed that it falls down to the floor after vibrating a few seconds. "Fuck!" He exclaims, picking it up and sighing in relief when it turns out to still be without damage. He takes on the call, and on the other side of the line, is Taehyung. He greets his younger friend, instantly asking him if you're okay- if you've eaten yet, drank anything, if you're homesick- all in one breath, it seems. Jungkook chuckles, simply placing a hand on your knee, thumb again tracing a pattern he's unsure of what its supposed to be. The warmth seeps into your skin through the fabric of your clothing. He smiles at you, and for the first time, maybe because you're feeling so.. smitten with him, you smile back. Not just a shy little lift of your lips, but a full on beaming smile, making his hand reach out to brush along your ear- internally gasping at how soft the fur is. How can something be this soft?! "Taehyung, she's fine. We're making ramen right now, she helped me cook, and afterwards we're gonna have icecream and watch a movie or something." He explains, and Taehyung claps back with something along the lines of 'but don't let her have the spicy stuff, she can't handle that-' but the younger one doesn't listen that much anymore. "Yeah yeah, listen, we're fine. Go get your girl, jesus." He laughs, and Taehyung chuckles as well, hanging up after reminding him to get you to bed at a reasonable time- as if you're a child he's taking care of.

Because that's the thing. You're not a child- and in Jungkooks eyes, you're not a pet. You're so sweet and easily interested in the simplest of things, he can't help but wonder if you had any hobbies. Did you like video games? Or drawing? Were you into books- hell, could you even read? He wanted to know so much more about you than just those tiny breadcrumbs of info he had gotten from Taehyung. He dearly hoped that maybe, maybe you would like to see him again after leaving tomorrow. He really hoped.

And as you ate, shaking your head at Jungkooks spicy ramen after tasting the broth a little from his spoon (which he did make sure to blow on as to not have you burn your tongue, bless his heart), he really did hope.

He really hoped that maybe, you felt just as happy around him as he felt around you.

It seemed that going grocery shopping, cooking, and eating icecream had taken its toll on you. Your eyes were practically falling shut every few seconds, yet you tried to stay awake as much as possible. Jungkook smiled at you, brushing some hair back before he moved your shoulder a bit. "Hey, bunny?" He asked, and you nodded, humming a noise of yes, you heard him. He chuckled. "You'll have to get up baby. I have to prepare the couch for you." Typically, it would be normal to give a guest the bed- if he was being a gentleman. But that was what he was being; because his couch was the most comfortable thing in his entire apartment for that matter. Yet maybe it was the sleep inside your bones making you drowsy, but you shook your head. "Hm?" He asks, and you suddenly move.

You shuffle around, suddenly hugging him tightly, head hidden in his chest as you rub your nose against the soft fabric of his shirt for a moment. "Don't wanna." You complain, and he swears he dies and gets ressurected all at once seven times in total at your next words. "Wanna sleep with 'koo." You drawl, and he knows he should not let you. You're not thinking clearly- but he can't deny you anything when you're like this, it seems. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, tightly, with no chance of escape.

So he gently picks you up after turning off the TV, bringing you to his bedroom, where he puts you on the bed, your tired form struggling to stay seated. He picks out a shirt of his to wear, and a pair of your shorts out of your backpack Taehyung has left for you. "Sweetheart, can you change for me?" He asks, and you simply let yourself playfully fall ontop of his mattress, making him sigh. You're going to be the death of me. "Oh really now?" He says, before he crawls over you, with the intention to tickle you a little awake- but he stops in his tracks. In fact, time seems to stop as well, as your eyes stare at him, so big and full of wonder he almost can't stop himself from looking at your lips.

But its you who shyly- and so quickly he almost doesnt catch it- pecks his lips before sneakily slipping out his grasp, taking your clothes with you into the bathroom, leaving him on the bed. He sits down, touching his lips for a second, absolutely unsure if he'd just experienced this, or if he had just had a fever dream of some sorts.

It's only when he notices you don't emerge from the bathroom, that he moves. He gently knocks at the wooden door, asking for you, but you don't answer. "I'm gonna open the door, okay?" He says, and does so seconds after, spotting you sitting on the tiled floor- now dressed in his sweater and your shorts, ready for bed. He notices however how you're hiding in the sweater- the hood covering your ears, while your hands shield your face. "Whats wrong?" He asks as he squats down in front of you, his hands gently pulling yours away from your face. You're not crying, thank god, but the look on your face speaks entire novels about how embarrassed you feel.

"M'sorry." You say, and pout, and he shakes his head.

"Don't be." He simply answers, helping you stand up after a moment. "Why do you feel bad?" He asks, and you shrug your shoulders.

"I just.." You start, but suddenly your eyes grow glossy. "I miss Taehyung-" You say, and Jungkook's heart drops for a moment. "-but I also don't wanna go home tomorrow." You finish, and Jungkook blinks twice, before he looks at you, confused. You didn't want to leave? Him? "I.. no, it's fi-"

"Say it." He demands- its not harsh, its not even loud, its almost just a whisper, tuneless words pressed out in a breath of air. "Don't keep it in- say it." He prompts you, and you swallow, not looking at him.

"I wanna stay with you." You say.

And he swears, the pain in his heart was the sweetest he'd ever felt.

The next day, after breakfast, Jungkook and you sit on his living room floor, him teaching you how to build a rubber powered plane- the one's he used to make as a kid. He'd kept a kit in his apartment back when he moved out of his family home but never got around to really use it. It was the perfect opportunity for you to enjoy the things you had missed out on in your life. He loved the way you so intensely watching his every move as he showed you how to put the pieces together. "And that's gonna fly?" You ask curiously, leaning over a bit as to get a better look at it.

"Hmhm." He says, holding it up, before giving it to you. "Here, turn this part until you can't anymore." He says, and you start twisting it for a while. "Don't worry, you can't break it." He says when you hesitate a little. He highly doubts you'll be able to snap the rubber band. "Tight?" He asks, checking, before he nods, standing up. "Lets go fly it outside!" He says, opening the glass door to the small backyard of his apartment. "And- Go!" he says, and you throw it just how he showed you minutes prior; letting it fly for a good moment before it landed.

"It flew!" You exclaimed happily, and he laughed as well, congratulating you as if you had just won a competition. He held you tightly to his body for a moment after you had jumped into his arms- and that was how you just stood there for a moment, simply existing, holding each other. For you, this was a moment of realizing that no, you're not alone. You're not useless, you're not just a pet, you're not just existing for someone's enjoyment. You had this one person at your side now, someone you could count on, someone to make you feel safe. And for him? Weirdly enough, he felt like the male lead of a romantic drama show- finally getting the happy ending he always craved in his life. He never knew what exactly he always wanted from his time here on earth. Was it success? Was it money? A big apartment, a nice home, a lot of friends? No, it was building a blanket fort with you in his living room. It was going to the grocery store with you, protecting you from big dogs that scared you, or holding you during the night. Every cheesy romantic thing he could imagine, now always featured you in his head; and it just, fit. It fit perfectly.

You fit into his life just perfectly.

It's later that day when Taehyung picks you up that he realizes that yes, he's positively in love with you. Because how can he not fall in love with those glistening eyes, hand waving goodbye for now because of course he can't just keep you like he wants to. There's paperwork involved, and your things need to be moved to his place- all of that needing to wait for social services to check his home, so that they can make sure he's really the right fit for you. It's then that he finally lets everything sink in, finally lets him think about what's going to happen, whats going to change.

And for the first time, he couldn't wait for it. He couldn't wait for things to change.

Jungkook baked you a small cake for your welcoming into his home- finally yours as well, as you hug Taehyung for the last time, the older friend waving before the door closes, Jungkooks arms instantly pulling your back into his chest. He leans his head down, kissing your shoulder, before he runs his sensitive lips over the so unbelievably soft fur of your ears. Three weeks had passed, yet to him it had felt like an entire year. Jungkook was sometimes impatient, and waiting had been pure torture for him. So now, as he was finally able to hold you again, he felt his entire stress vaporize into nothingness.

You giggled, before turning around, hugging him fully, and rubbing your face into his sweater, as if to get your scent onto him. Which was exactly your plan- after all, he was your human now, officially yours, so everyone should know that. The rumble in his chest that was his chuckle made you smile widely, grinning as you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest.

Oh may god have mercy on his soul!

He leaned downwards, finally capturing your lips with his, the first real long kiss to be shared between the two of you. Both of you melted into the sweet gesture, your ears falling down lazily as he showered you in affection; kisses to your nose, your cheeks, and your lips again. He continued until the corners of your eyes gathered tears from laughing so much.

This was how you were supposed to be. You were never supposed to cry because you were upset-

the only tears you should ever have to shed, should be tears of happiness.

(c) Bonny-Kookoo. Please do not translate, re-post or claim as your own. Thank you for reading- and please stay happy and healthy.

[winterscaptain]

long shot.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic - no context required

a/n: this is in response to this ask in kind of a loose way, and also fulfills kiss prompt #6 (on a falling tear). i sat down and wrote this all in one sitting this weekend and it makes me smile SO MUCH. tell me what you think! i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it :) this one takes place in au!december 2012

words: 2.3k warnings: alcohol use/mention, allusions to sex, language

summary: “i couldn’t have dreamed you into existence because i didn’t even know i needed you. you must have been sent to me.” - kamand kojouri

It’s a rare early night off in December and you all make the ill-advised choice to go to the bar closest to the base for some drinks and dancing, completely forgetting that academy graduation is tomorrow. 

There’s part of you that feels aged by the whole thing. Even newly-minted agents your own age look fresh-faced and about a decade younger than you feel. 

When you all walk in, there’s a bit of a hush, a lull, in the conversations around you. You find eyes on you from all directions and realize your faces are familiar ones, and in the case of Aaron and Dave, almost-famous ones. 

Aaron pulls you further into him, almost shielding you with his body as you navigate through the crowd that parts before you. It seems like an eternity before you find a table, but Derek, Aaron, and Spencer hold down the fort while the rest of you manage drinks. Strategic postings at either end of the bar is likely going to get you the best return, so you fan out accordingly. 

It’s unsurprising in the least when the bartenders make a beeline for you all, getting your orders down and drinks started over the shouts of NATs - many of them already blasted with three or four shots under their belt. 

While you wait, you can still feel a fair few pairs of eyes on you. You meet one pair, set in the face of a rather handsome new agent about your age. He smiles at you, and you shift your eyes away from him, your expression unmoving. 

He apparently takes that as invitation enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot him as he winds his way to your side. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes across the room, and there’s a smile in them. You offer the smallest twitch of your lips and a wink. Watch this. 

Oh, I’m watching, his eyebrows say. 

“Hi.” The young agent finally reaches your side and offers his hand. You take it. “Agent Mark Sullivan.” 

You smile thinly and introduce yourself. “So, I take it you’ve just received an assignment?”

He laughs, making an attempt at charm. “Alright. You’re a profiler,” he says with confidence. “What gave me away?” It’s a challenge.

It’s also a long shot. A really really long shot. 

There were plenty of people in the vicinity that would be reeled in by his warm smile and handsome jawline, but your fine man (currently sprawled back in his chair with an arm on the back of the chair and a hand over his mouth to cover his smile) stands head and shoulders above the rest, sometimes literally. 

“Well,” you start, making a show of eyeing him from head to toe, “Your papers are still in your pocket and you’ve left your ID tag on, against academy and bureau regulations.” 

He startles and snatches it off his lapel, tucking it into his pocket. 

With a little smile, you soothe his embarrassment - it’s a play only designed to endear yourself to him. “It tells me you’re proud, excited. I felt the same way when I received my assignment and credentials. It’s a significant accomplishment.”

You can’t quite tell in the irregular darkness in the room, but he looks almost like he’s blushing. “Thanks.” He collects himself after a moment, putting his bravado back on. 

Your eyes flicker to Hotch once, twice. He’s still watchful. Amused. 

“So, I was lucky enough to see your lectures with the BAU and I must say...it’s impressive.” 

He says that like it’s some kind of validation. 

I need validation from this clown like I need a hole in the head. 

“Thanks. I’m usually rather modest, but I think it’s alright to say the BAU is a very fine unit.” If you’re honest, you’re talking about one particular unit chief’s...um...unit, specifically, but that’s neither here nor there.

He smirks. “What would you say if I told you I got a placement on one of the BAU teams?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Really? That’s quite the accomplishment.” A pair of arms wind around you and a kiss is pressed to your temple. 

It would also be a lie.

You smile and flip in Aaron’s arms, completely ignoring poor Mark. “I was just getting you a drink,” you explain, gesturing vaguely to the bar behind you. 

“I see. Did you get me -”

“Double scotch, neat, aged at least fifteen years? Yes, sir.” 

He smiles. “You know me so well.” 

“I sure do.” You pull him down by his tie and plant a firm kiss on his lips and shove him off with a smile. “Go. Sit. I’ve got it.” 

You turn back to Mark with a breathless sort of laugh. Aaron always makes you feel a little flushed and you’re happy to play it up for the benefit of the moment. “Sorry about that.” 

Mark, you find, is reconsidering his strategy. His face, while still outwardly warm, harbors a kind of calculated look to it that would almost be funny if you weren’t so eager to see what kind of trick he’d pull next. “So, Hotchner?”

“What about him?”

Mark shrugs. “I dunno. Doesn’t he have a kid?”

You nod. “Yep.” 

“And he’s a widower, right?”

“Yes.” 

Mark laughs a little. “Wouldn’t it be kinda nice to, I dunno, have some fun for a little while?”

You frown at him, and your drink arrives at the hands of the frazzled bartender. You pull the fifty from your sleeve and pass it to him with a smile. After a sip, you ask. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like a lot to take on, you know?” He backpedals upon seeing your squint. “I mean, I’m sure he’s a great guy, but wouldn’t it be nice to have someone...I dunno -” He restores his confidence and leans on the bar. Again, his moves would probably work on someone else, but you were a lost cause. “- easier?”

Aaron’s scotch arrives. You pick it up in your free hand and shrug somewhat breezily. “Maybe.” 

You brush past him, leaving Mark a little confused and a bit stunned. When you return to the table after much jostling, you take a seat right on Aaron’s lap and pass him his drink, reclining in his arms. Scanning over the crowd, Mark’s frowning face sticks out like a sore thumb and you try not to look too smug. 

Other than Rossi, the rest of the team is already out on the dance floor, so you know Aaron doesn’t mind having you close. 

He sets his scotch down and wraps his arms around you kissing the underside of your jaw. You lean into his touch and smile. 

There’s nothing easier than this. 

+++

There’s something a bit sulky about Aaron when you settle next to him in bed. You squint at him, looking for his eyes as they follow the loose pattern on the bedspread. 

“Hey.” You bump his shoulder with yours. “What’s on your mind?” 

He shakes his head a little, still not meeting your eyes. “Nothing. Just thinking.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you throw the covers off and sling a leg over him, straddling his thighs. You tap your palms on his pecs on-beat with your begging. “Come on. Tell me tell me tell me tell -”

“Jesus, alright!” He cuts you off with two hands over yours, his thumbs running fondly over your knuckles. “I just…” He huffs, already a little frustrated with himself for feeling put out. 

You slide your hands out from underneath his, running up over his collarbones and shoulders to find the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear…”

You let all your breath out in a huff. “Oh, Aaron. He’s a stupid NAT who knows the only way to come after you is to come after your history.” You kiss his cheek and tuck into him. “He was trying to be a big-dick boy and it didn’t pay off for him.” 

There’s a halfhearted laugh from underneath you, and his hands wander across your back. “He is right, though. It would be easi-”

“If you say ‘easier,’ Aaron Hotchner, I’m going to lose my shit.” 

He sighs, and you pull back, tipping his chin up with a finger. 

“Hey. I love Jack. He is not an added weight in my life. He does not make my life harder in any way. Your son,” you emphasize with taps on his lips, “is the light of my life and I wouldn’t ever want to be without him.” 

Aaron’s eyes get a little misty. For his sake, you ignore it and continue. 

“I never feel like a replacement for Haley. I’ve never once minded leaving room for her in our lives because she’s my friend and I love her and I love you. I loved you before we lost her and I’ve loved you long after. This baggage keeps my feet firmly planted on the ground.” 

Aaron takes a deep breath, and his voice has the smallest of wavers when he speaks. Before he even starts, you concede to let him share what he’s feeling, if only to rebut it. “But you could - you could have so much. You could have someone ten or fifteen years younger who - I don’t know - could do things with you that thirty-somethings do. You wouldn’t have to spend your weekends at soccer games or your evenings rubbing Icy Hot on my bad knee or dealing with me on rough pain days or raising your voice because I can’t hear shit on my right side.” 

He shakes his head, and you brush the tears that fall with your thumbs. “You could have - You deserve, so much more...” The rest of his words go unspoken, but you hear them anyway. 

You deserve so much more than me.

Your eyes sting and you blink rapidly, letting your tears wet your lashes. Leaning forward, you kiss away his remaining tears, shifting your weight to wrap your legs around his waist and get as close as you can. 

With your head on his left shoulder, you whisper, “Aaron, I don’t want someone ten or fifteen years younger. I don’t care what I’m doing on my evenings and weekends because I get to spend them with you.” 

You pause for a moment. “And, I don’t need boys. I’m done with boys.” 

You lean back, looking him square in the eye, or at least trying to. “I have a man who has silver in his hair because he worries and is in his mid-forties and it doesn’t fucking matter. I have a man who is the subject of so many crushes and fantasies at the academy it makes me want to vomit.” You laugh a little at your own joke, but he’s still focused on the seam of your shirt at your collar. Changing gears, you bring your hands to the sides of his neck, feeling his pulse jump under your thumbs.

“I have no need for boys because I have a man who treats me with kindness and respect. A man who is thoughtful, who isn’t afraid of himself. A man who knows himself, who loves his son, who invited me into his life when he didn’t have to because he’s brave.”

A couple more tears fall down your cheeks and you frame his face with your hands. “You love better and more courageously than anyone I have ever known.” 

You sniffle a little. “Aaron, honey...I love you. I wouldn’t want anything else, or anyone else, for my life, to be my partner, my best friend, the person I love. Odds have it that you’ll be my husband and the father of any other kids we might acquire and that we’ll grow even older and grayer together.” 

You let a little facetious smirk cross your lips. “And I’d like you to look at me and tell me I’d be happy with some dickhead named Mark with a business degree who wears shoes well-outside his pay grade.” 

That does it. 

Aaron smiles and pulls you to him with a hand at the back of your head. Your lips meet and you can taste the saltwater, but it doesn’t matter. 

He pulls back to look at you, and he really looks at you. His eyes roam hungrily over your face as if trying to memorize every line and curve and lash and budding wrinkle he finds there. 

You simply melt in the dark brown of his eyes, watching him take his time. 

Even then, as you expected, there is some doubt - not in you, of course, but in him. “Really?”

“Really.” You hold up your fist between your faces, pinky extended. “Pinky promise.” 

He smiles a little and links your pinkies together, twisting your hands to kiss your knuckles. Your hands drop into your lap and another little smile crosses your face. 

“What?” He asks.

You shrug. “I’m also thinking about how thirty-something-year-old boys absolutely suck in bed. I can pretty much guarantee that you’re better at - well, just about everything.” 

He closes his eyes and smiles, looking the picture of a happy house cat in the sun. You draw closer, running your nose along his. He leans toward you and captures your lips again. 

The next few hours? Don’t worry. They’re spent proving your point.  

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile  @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @spencerelds @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou

[iwritesickfic]

"i kinda have a crush"

synopsis: Henry has a crush on his roommate's best friend Tom. When he gets sick, he's not sure whether Tom's concern means he feels the same.

Henry doesn't have time for a cold. Especially not now. Finals start next week, and between studying for exams, finishing final projects, and going to class, pretty much all his time is going to be occupied. Today, he woke up with a headache and a sore throat, which he's trying to convince himself is just a product of poor sleep, but deep down he knows is just the beginning of something worse to come.

Now, he's in his room, wrapped in his comforter and highlighting passages in his bio textbook, hearing his roommate Sam and his loud friends watching something equally loud in the living room. It's useless trying to ask them to quiet down - he learned after the sixth or seventh time asking that even though they all seem accommodating, they forget pretty quickly. Normally he'd be able to tune them out, but his steadily worsening headache is making it near impossible.

He gets up and starts pulling on clothes - the walk to the library may be freezing, but at least he'll get some quiet. Leaving his room, he's aware of how pissed off he must look, but he doesn't care enough to feign politeness to Sam and his friends.

He heads to the kitchen and grabs his travel mug - he's going to need coffee if he's going to last at the library. He's just filling it up when he hears a voice behind him.

"Hey! Henry! I didn't know you were home!" It's Tom. He's probably Sam's best friend - at the very least, he's the friend who's over more than anyone else. Henry suppresses a sigh. Tom is the exact kind of guy he doesn't like. Bro-y, athletic, always overly friendly to everyone - it just comes off as phony. It also just so happens that guys like this are always very attractive, and Tom is no exception. He turns around to grab milk from the fridge.

"Hey," he says, trying not to sound as annoyed as he feels.

"If I knew you were here I would've been a little quieter - you have finals coming up too, right?" Tom asks, leaning against the door frame in that way he always does.

"Mmhmm. It's fine. I'm going to the library." Talking to Tom is not helping the throbbing in his head. He starts to add the sugar and milk to his coffee.

"Are you sure? I can ask the guys to quiet down."

"No, it's fine." He snaps the cover onto his coffee and starts toward the door.

"Alright, well have a good day!"

"Thanks, you too." When he closes the front door he sighs, rubbing his eyes. He starts down the stairs. Being around people like that is exhausting on a normal day - Henry's always been quiet. Reserved. With the beginnings of a cold it's almost aggravating.

The frigid air outside makes his throat burn and his eyes water. His nose starts to run too, and he hopes it's just the temperature and not a new symptom. Knowing his luck he's going to be the one annoying person in the library constantly sniffling.

His time at the library is mostly uneventful, apart from going through a pack of travel tissues and getting dirty looks from other students. By the time they're ready to close, he feels significantly worse than he did this morning, but he's finished his biology review and is almost done with a paper for Transformative Design.

The trudge home feels like it takes forever - it's only about a 15 minute walk, but between the cold and feeling like crap it seems neverending. He can hear from the hallway outside the apartment that Sam's friends are still here, which makes him want to tear his hair out.

It's almost midnight when they leave, so it's only about that time he can get to sleep. He has class the next morning at 8, and when he wakes up with his alarm, he knows he's in for a full blown cold. His head still aches, and his sinuses feel sore and swollen. His throat kills too, and he feels shivery, despite the heavy comforter.

He lets himself lie in bed for a while, sniffling and trying to absorb as much warmth as he can from the comforter, before he drags himself up. He immediately pulls on his warmest sweater, even though he's just going to the bathroom. It doesn't help the shivering much, but it's something. He probably looks ridiculous, in just a pair of boxers and his oversized sweater, but he feels so shitty he doesn't really care.

Walking by the couch, he sees Tom asleep, shirtless. His heart flutters - he knew Tom was fit but it was something else to see it. The butterflies are almost annoying. There a million guys on campus, why does he have to get so worked up over this one?

In the shower, he cranks up the heat and lets the steam ease the aching in his sinuses. He's in there for too long, but the thought of having to actually walk to class in the cold makes him reluctant to get out.

He arrives to class a few minutes late - nose still dripping from the cold. Luckily today is just a lecture, but it's a five hour class, and he didn't have time to make any coffee this morning. He brought another little travel pack of tissues, but he's definitely going to have to ration them.

He's still shivering. It's worse after being out in the cold, and even though it should get better over time, nothing changes. He just sits there, achy and shivering and congested and miserable until 10:30, when the professor calls for a 10 minute break. Thank god. He needs coffee. There's a small shop in the building, so he forces himself up and out of his seat - which leads to a few seconds of particularly bad throbbing in his head - and out into the hall.

He almost groans when he sees who's working. Tom. Of course he's been to this little coffee spot a million times and he knows it's where Tom works, but he didn't think he'd have to see him this morning. Part of him is annoyed - he definitely does not have the energy to deal with him at the moment - but another part is a little embarrassed at how awful he must look. Not that he should care what Tom thinks of him, he reminds himself. Regardless, he walks up the counter, half occupied rubbing at his nose with a tissue.

"Hey," he says, and is surprised how congested he sounds. Tom turns, eyes lighting up.

"Hey!" He dims a little when he takes in his full appearance. "You ok?" Henry sniffles.

"Yeah. Fine. Can I get-"

"Large hot coffee, oat milk and sugar, right?" Henry's taken aback.

"Uh, yeah. You know my order?"

"Of course. It's an easy order." He goes about starting to make the drink. "Hope we didn't keep you up last night. I kept telling Sam to shut the fuck up but he doesn't listen to me."

"It's fine. I'm used to it." He sniffles again.

"You sound like you're coming down with something."

"And you sound like my mom." That makes Tom laugh, and again, Henry feels a stirring in his chest. Tom puts the lid on the drink and hands it to him, and Henry tries to hand him the money. Tom shakes his head.

"That's ok - on the house." That draws a little smile out of Henry. Tom smiles back, and for a minute he forgets how shitty he feels. "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks."

He heads back to class and sits down, taking a sip of the coffee. It tastes great, as always when Tom makes it, and the warmth helps to ease the chills at least somewhat. The rest of the lecture is spent half paying attention, and half worrying his sniffling and nose blowing is annoying. When it's finally over, he wants nothing more than to just go home and take a nap, but he has a problem set for calculus due tomorrow that he hasn't even started. So, reluctantly, he makes the trek to the library. He's able to work for most of the day uninterrupted - he's not very hungry, which maybe should be concerning but is convenient nonetheless.

By the time he's done, it's already dark out, and the walk home is brutal. The wind is whipping, and his scarf and hat aren't doing much to keep the cold out. His nose is running like a faucet and the cough he developed over the course of the day drags the cold air even further into his lungs. The coughs hurt, like they come from somewhere deep in his chest, and by the time he gets home his throat is destroyed.

When he gets home, he's glad to see Sam isn't making a racket for once. Still, he knows he's in for a restless night anyway. He puts a can of soup on the stove to heat up while he changes into sweatpants and a hoodie. His reflection in the mirror is definitely a sight - he's flushed from the cold, his hair a mess, and his eyes red rimmed.

He knows he should really fit in some more studying before he calls it a night, but after he picks at his soup and does the dishes, he's ready to fall over, so he just curls up in bed, coughing and shivery, and goes to sleep.

He wakes up a few times in the night coughing, and the soreness in his throat makes his eyes water. He's barely able to drag himself out of bed the next morning. His shivers have become more like shakes, and his cough feels like it never stops. He got a decent amount of sleep, but he still feels totally exhausted - even his muscles are sore.

His classes are a blur - he's too preoccupied with feeling awful to focus, and by the time he's done at 6, all he wants to do is go home and sleep until tomorrow morning. But, he knows he has to get at least one assignment done. After tomorrow, he'll have the whole weekend to relax. Not totally, but still.

Just the assignment tonight, classes tomorrow, then he can finally get some rest. The library probably isn't a good choice - his cough is too distracting, and he knows the walk home later will be torture. So instead, he goes back to the apartment. The cold air always exacerbates the cough, so the whole way home he's hacking, his nose running like a faucet. His ribs have started to hurt from all the coughing.

He almost wants to cry when he gets home and hears the sound of Sam and his friends in the living room. Why tonight of all nights? He trudges into his bedroom and changes - he's started to feel warm, which is a relief after feeling so cold all the time, but now it's becoming a both too warm and too cold feeling, so he tugs on his sweater and a fresh pair of boxers.

He starts to work on the physics problem set - there are only three problems total, but each of them usually take an hour at least, and that's when he's not feeling like death. He works for a while, but it's only when he starts to feel lightheaded he realizes he hasn't eaten yet today.

So, he heads into the kitchen and rummages around for a can of chicken noodle. He finds it, but he's too weak and shaky to work the can open right. He tries for a good three minutes before he feels a lump form in his throat.

"Hey, do you want some help with that?" He turns to see Tom standing in the doorway. Self consciously, he sniffles and clears his throat.

"Uh, y-yeah, that would be great." Tom smiles softly and walks over, making quick work of the can. Henry expects him to just go back into the living room, but he grabs the pot from the cabinet and turns on the stove.

"You've got quite a cough there." Henry feels himself blush. They all must be able to hear him from his room.

“Sorry, I-”

“Hey, no, no don’t be sorry. We make enough noise, you’re allowed to be sick.” He pours the soup into the pot and starts to grab spices from the shelf.

“I’m not sick.” Henry isn’t sure why he’s being so defensive, but Tom doesn’t challenge him, just smirks.

“Well whatever it is, it sounds brutal.” He shakes a few of the spices into the soup, stirring slowly.

“I’m ok. Really.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence before someone calls Tom from the other room. He looks a little dismayed, but puts on a smile.

“Feel better, ok?” He rests his arm on Henry’s upper arm, giving him a soft smile, before heading back into the living room. And there’s that fluttering in his chest again.

On his way back to his room, he catches a bit of a conversation.

“I think we should go out.” That’s Tom’s voice.

“Nah dude, it’s freezing.” That’s Sam.

“C’mon, let’s go. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright, whatever.”

Henry smiles to himself. Maybe it’s reaching to think Tom did that specifically for him, but part of him really hopes he did.

The rest of the night is blissfully quiet, apart from his incessant cough. By the time he’s finished with the last problem, it’s midnight, and the world is swimming. He’s never been happier to lie down. But, it’s short lived. Despite being exhausted, his cough and what he suspects is a fever are making it all but impossible to sleep. He drifts in and out of half-sleep, sometimes too hot, sometimes too cold. Luckily his class isn’t until the afternoon, but he spends the whole morning much like the night before. When he finally gets up, he feels truly ready to fall over. His headache is horrendous, throbbing and pounding at the slightest provocation. His sinuses are still swollen, along with his poor throat that makes him wince with every swallow. The cough is the same if not a little worse, except now it sends cramping pain through his ribs.

On the walk to class, he just keeps repeating the same idea in his head. Just three hours, then you can rest. The class is truly a blur, but the walk home is too unpleasant to tune out. Once again, the freezing temperature isn’t any help, and forcing his aching body to walk through the snow gets harder with every step.

He turns the corner for the front door of his building, and a wave of relief washes over him. But, he’s confused when he sees someone standing near the buzzer. He’s even more confused when he realizes it’s Tom.

“Hey, uh, Sam isn’t here. He’s gone for the weekend.” He says, embarrassed at how thready and weak his voice sounds. Tom turns, looking confused.

“Why are you out here? It’s freezing.” He says, and Henry isn’t sure whether it’s the fever that’s keeping him from putting the dots together or this just doesn’t make sense.

“Sam isn’t upstairs,” he repeats, and Tom sighs gently.

“I’m not here to see Sam.” It still isn’t clicking. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

“Ok…” He unlocks the door and clumsily shakes the snow off his boots before getting into the elevator. Tom follows, and Henry figures someone else must be in the building that Tom wants to see, but Tom follows him right to the door. Henry sighs and rubs his eyes. “Tom, what do you want?”

For the first time, it looks like Tom might actually be nervous.

“I came to check up on you.” Henry suddenly feels a strange bundle of emotions unfurl in his stomach.

“Oh,” is all he can manage to get out. Tom bites his lip.

“Is that ok?”

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine, uh…” He takes a deep breath, but breaks into a fit of coughs before he can speak. He feels a steady hand on his back. After he’s done with the fit the world swims, and there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go inside so you can sit down, ok?” Henry just nods, and after a few moments of struggling to fit the key into the lock, Tom does it for him. Immediately, he strips off his scarf and coat and practically collapses onto the couch, pulling off his boots. He leans back into the cushions, closing his eyes.

“Fuck…” he breathes, and he hears Tom laugh quietly. When he opens his eyes, he sees Tom sitting in front of him on the coffee table, still looking nervous. “Why would you wanna check on me?”

“Well you didn’t seem so good last night, and I wanted to make sure you were ok. Even though you hate my guts,” he says with a smile. He starts to rummage through his backpack, and pulls out a bottle of tylenol and a thermometer, as well as a quart container of soup.

“I don’t hate your guts,” Henry says quietly, and Tom gives him another smile.

“Well that’s good to hear.” He leans forward and starts to move his palm toward his forehead, but hesitates. “Is this ok?” Henry nods, and sighs when he feels the cool palm on his overheated skin. He moves his hand to his cheek. “Jesus, you’re really burning up.”

He lets out another volley of coughs, and Tom rubs his back again. It feels nice, but it doesn’t make the confusion go away. For now though, he’s happy to just be looked after.

“Here.” Tom slips the thermometer under his tongue, brushing some of his hair away from his face. When it beeps, he takes it out. “102. Not so bad.” Henry has a feeling he’s saying that more for his benefit than his own. “You want me to grab you some more comfortable clothes?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles in return. “Alright.”

He gets up and walks into the bedroom, leaving Henry alone on the couch, finally giving him a moment to process all of this. Why on earth would Tom care about him? They’re not really friends, are they? And Tom was straight, wasn’t he? And even if he wasn’t, there’s no way he’d actually like Henry of all people. And did Henry even like him? Sure, he’s sweet and funny and impossibly hot, but he’s friends with Sam. And he’s on the soccer team. And he’s so outgoing and friendly all the time, wouldn’t that get annoying?

He almost doesn’t notice when Tom gets back.

“Here you go. You want me to go in the kitchen while you change?” He hands him the clothes, and Henry bites his lip.

“If you want to.” Is that a weird answer? Tom smirks.

“I’m fine if you’re fine.”

Henry starts to take off his shirt, but he’s so shaky and uncoordinated, Tom has to help him, which probably killed any romance the situation offered, he thinks. The clean fabric feels nice against his feverish skin. The pants go the same way, and he didn’t realize how uncomfortable he was until now.

“Here, lean your head back,” Tom says, and he does. Tom presses a cool, damp cloth to his forehead, and he sighs softly. “That feels good?” He nods. There’s a few moments of silence while he just relaxes into the feeling. Then, he sits up straight.

“Why are you doing all this?” Tom looks nervous again.

“You’re my...friend. And I care about you,” he says, and Henry feels his heart sink a little.

“Oh. Ok.” He must sound disappointed, because Tom smiles.

“Hoping for a different answer?” Henry shrugs, and Tom rubs his jaw.

“I mean, it’s a little embarrassing but I used to...have a crush on you. But I think you made it kind of clear you weren’t interested.” Henry can’t hide his confusion.

“I made it clear?” He’s genuinely not sure what Tom is talking about. Sure, he’s never out right flirted with him, but he always thought he was straight anyway.

“Just...one word answers to everything, always seeming like you had somewhere else to be - it’s fine. I don’t know why I even brought it up. You want some soup?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles. “Ok, sounds good.”

He heads into the kitchen, and Henry’s mind runs a mile a minute. There’s no way he’s telling the truth right? But why would he lie? He comes back through the doorway and leans against the frame.

“It’s on the stove, just have to wait a few minutes. You feeling ok?”

“Yeah, uh...I wanna tell you something.” Henry doesn’t know how he can make leaning against a doorframe look so good.

“Shoot.”

“I kinda had a crush on you too. Or...have.” He can feel himself blushing. Tom laughs.

“You have a really funny way of showing it.” He’s beaming, and it makes Henry smile too.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re so annoying,” he says, and Tom walks back over to the coffee table and sits down. Tom’s hand rests on his forehead, then makes its way down to his cheek. It feels so steady. Stable.

“I’m not the one that got themself sick with pneumonia because I wouldn’t miss a class, am I?” Without thinking, Henry wraps his arms around him as tight as he can - which isn’t very tight, but still. He buries his face in the crook of his neck and takes a deep breath. Tom rubs his back gently.

“Thank you, for doing all this,” he whispers, and Tom squeezes him a little bit tighter.

“Anytime.”

[dalamjisung]

team wang ❃ jackson wang

word count: 1899

genre: slice of life, fluff, team wang!jackson

member: jackson x reader

description: this is it��� all he’s ever wanted: jackson is his own boss now. Team Wang will now have his undivided attention and, well, you couldn’t be prouder. You’ve always been Team Wang, anyways. 

“Delivery,” A voice calls through the building’s intercom, and you try to remember of any recent purchase made from Amazon, but you just can’t.

“Whom for?” You ask, and if Jackson was here, he’d be proud. He always told you to be more aware of security, considering the amount of ill intent directed towards public figures like him. You’d always roll your eyes whenever he lectured you about opening the door for the food delivery man without asking for an identification from the other person, but you’d let it go whenever he hugged you and mumbled in your ear, I just want you to be safe.

“Uh… Jackson Wang?” The man responds. “From Team Wang…?”

The uncertainty in the man’s voice is enough to make you frown, but you tell him to wait downstairs, that you’ll go get the parcels yourself. Putting your shoes on, you go down, passing through Mr. Min, the building’s security guard.

“Can you sign here, ma’am?” The delivery man asks, giving you an electronic pad. You do as instructed and he starts giving you the many boxes piled behind him.

“Wait… is that all for Jackson Wang?” You gasp, looking behind to wave the security guard over. “I might need some help, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, Ms. Y/L/N,” Mr. Min smiles and both of you work on taking all twelve large boxes to your apartment. After you’re done, you send him back to his post with a ‘thank you’ sandwich and cup of coffee; he’s always been incredibly helpful and kind to you, during the years that you and Jackson had been together, and you can’t help but see Mr. Min as a friend. He’s seen you at your best and at your worst, and if not for his comforting words, sometimes you don’t know what would’ve happened to you after a fight with Jackson, or after a particular hard day at work. He’s always spared you a few words of wisdom, a few moments of hope, and he’s never let you walk out the door with unresolved issues.

“Ah, Seun-ie,” You tut under your breath, looking at the three piles of boxes. “Why did–“

“I’m home!” His melodic voice echoes in the apartment and you chuckle at his clear excitement. “Is it here? Did it arrive? Y/N, did something arrive for me today?”

“Uh,” You turn around to face your fiancee. “I’d say so, yes.”

His eyes shine with contained happiness and he drops his bag by the entrance, running to the many boxes to inspect all of them.

“Babe can you get me a knife?”

You roll your eyes, walking to the kitchen and coming back with scissors instead. You didn’t want him to get lost in his packages and end up hurting himself.

“Here you go, babe,” You help him move the boxes to the living room, where together you cut through all the cardboard. As you two work, he tells you about his day at the studio, about the songs he’s producing, about all the content he’s posting on social media– and you soak it all in, loving the way he rambles on and on about all that he did, all that he couldn’t do before. Because of the restrictions of his old agency, Jackson always talked about all the things he wanted to do, but rarely ever about the things he did. It’s been a week now, and ever since their last performance under their past contract, Jackson’s been much more open to trying out all of the things he talked about before. I’m my own boss now, baby, he’d giggle at random time. I can do what I want.

“Jacks,” You call, looking at him while resting your chin on your hand, a small side adorning your face.

“Yes, my love?” He looks at you from behind a large box, eyes wide and round.

“I’m proud of you,” You tell him, and he blushes. “Really proud of you.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” He mutters, looking down at the deliveries. “It means a lot coming form you…”

“Well, then you should believe it,” You get up and kiss his cheek on the way back to the kitchen, making some coffee for both of you. “Want milk or not?”

“No, thank you!”

Routine feels like this– this normalcy that you sense from having Jackson in the living room, humming random tunes that are bound to become singles, while you make some coffee; the same normalcy you felt this morning, when he woke you up with breakfast in bed, and the same normalcy you’ll feel tonight, when you both scroll through twitter together, like you’ve done most nights, enjoying the fact that now Bambam has nothing better to do than roast people publicly.

“Y/N, love, come here!”

“Just a second!” You put his coffee in his favorite lime green mug, and, taking your own mug, you waddle back to the living room. “Yes, honey?”

According to the other guys, you and Jackson had always been the most lovey-dovey couple, abusing pet names like there is no tomorrow, but you to always laugh it off, enjoying the little world you create every time he calls you a different lovely nickname.

“Can you try this on for me?” He holds a black velvet puffer jacket and throws it to you. “It’s a size up than your usual, but I think you’ll look fire with an oversized one.”

His enthusiasm is palpable and when you take off your hoodie to try on the jacket, you hear him giggling.

“Are you filming me?” You question once you notice the phone in his hands.

“Of course I’m filming you,” Jackson scoffs as if you had asked the most obvious question in the world. “You look hot wearing Team Wang design.”

You only realize you are wearing Team Wang from head to toe once he points out; you have one of their sweatpants that you hastily put on this morning to finish some work due in the afternoon, and underneath the hoodie, also belonging to your beloved’s company, you had one of their white t-shirts. 

“Oh my god,” You gasp. “I feel so expensive.”

“Wha–“

“I could never afford this,” You mumble under your breath, laughing at his reaction.

“Just try the jacket on,” He grumbles, and when you finally do what he says, the excitement is back. Jackson gets into business mode and soon you are being prepped for a photoshoot by your fiancee. He positions you near the window, and, using the sunlight in his favor, gives you one of the new collection’s cap. Now you truly are Team Wang from head to toe, and he snaps picture after picture, directing you to the best of his abilities. You laugh at the faces he makes, and you enjoy the attention, still not being used to receiving so much of Jackson for so long. Usually, he’d been whisked away already, something about a schedule to follow through. But now, as he showers you with compliments, feeling proud of his work, you feel like he is truly happy.

“Let me see, let me see,” You say after he’s done, jumping where he is sitting on the couch looking through the many photos he took. “You’re not going to post that, right?”

His head snaps up at you, and he is quick to put his phone aside and pull you to sit on his lap.

“Why not?” He questions, looking deeply into your eyes. “They came out amazing, baby!”

“Jackson,” You chuckle, loving his playfulness. “You can hire the best models out there to promote and display your creation if you want… you are not posting a picture of me as a model.”

“But you are a model,” He raises the phone for you to see the album he already created for the shoot. “My model.”

“Jackson–“

“No, I think you don’t understand,” He chuckles a bit, looking down at where one of his hands hold one of yours. He is blushing, and you caress his face with the other hand. “You’ve been my model for a long while now, Y/N. On many different aspects of life. The way you think, the way you speak, the way you act– It’s always been a huge influence for me; always pushing me to be a better version of myself. I love you, yes, but more than that, I admire you. You’re my idol, baby.”

You don’t know how to express yourself in words– you think there might be none, as you kiss him senseless. With a permanent smile, you kiss him, the man of your dreams and the man of your reality. The one that always tried to fix everything, even if there is nothing to fix; the man that works so hard to provide only the best for himself and those around him; the man that promised to love you forever. You kiss him the only way you see possible. You kiss him with all you have. Love. Passion. Admiration. It’s all a mess of emotions that you can hope get through to him. He pulls away first, pecking your lips slowly and firmly, and then snuggles into you, pulling you down to lay on the couch, and you almost laugh at how comic you two must look, surrounded by boxes.

You can’t help but notice six boxes left unopened.

“Jacks,” You poke his cheek and he hums. “What’s in those boxes?”

He raises his head to look where you are pointing.

“Ah,” He smiles and wiggles his brows. “Those are special treats for the guys. I always sent them previews, ever since I started Team Wang… I don’t see why not keep tradition. I also added some things for their girls, now that they can publicly wear them.”

“That’s really nice of you, my love,” You smile at him, hugging him tighter. “I’m sure they’ll love it. They always comment on it whenever I wear Team Wang.”

“Do you think they’ll like it?” He suddenly asks, a bit nervous. “I designed the bucket hat thinking of Jaebeom hyung, and I think Bam will really enjoy the velvet vest but–“

You shut him up with a kiss, straddling his waist. When you pull away, you can see the anxiety in his face; with Jackson, it’s always in the eyes– all his fears, all his accomplishments, all his feelings. You can read him like a book and you think it’s adorable how much he still dories about his group’s– his family’s– opinion of his endeavors, even though he proved himself again and again that no matter what, GOT7 will always walk beside him, supporting him during everything.

“I think they will absolutely love it,” You scoff, hands holding his face in place to look straight into his surprised eyes. “You know they’ll absolutely love it.”

He nods.

“And do you know why?”

He nods once again.

“Why?” You ask, wanting to hear if from his mouth.

“Because they love me,” He smiles, hands moving up and down on your thighs. “And because I love them, too.”

“And?”

“And because they’re proud of me,” Jackson’s voice grows stronger and more confident with each word that leaves his mouth. “And because I’m proud of me.”

“That’s right, baby,” You soften at his wide smile. “We’re all proud of you. We’re all Team Wang.”

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

Well... we really are all Team Wang ;) What do you think of this one, my lovelies? I can just imagine Jackson with his cute smile, getting hyped up. If you liked this story, please please please share, comment, like, or anything you feel comfortable doing ❤️ thank you for your endless support, lovelies💕

[ddagent]

For your Valentine's Day prompt: Jaime struggles to find the perfect card for Brienne

Thank you! I’m excited to share a little romance for the first two weeks of this month. I hope you enjoy! 

Stepping into her local supermarket, Brienne was suffocated by Maiden’s Day. It had long ago stopped being a celebration of innocence and purity; instead, it was now a holiday of love, relationships, and commercialism. Bouquets of roses littered the foyer of the supermarket; beyond lay boxes upon boxes of chocolates, plush bears and dragons with soppy sayings embroidered onto their stomachs, and cards extolling the most saccharine of sentiments. 

“Oh, Gods.”

Her exclamation led to the two nearest shoppers turning her way and offering their best sympathetic looks. Tugging the collar of her coat closer around her neck, Brienne hustled into the store and avoided their pitying glances. Yes, she had no plans for Maiden’s Day. No, she was not seeing anyone – hadn’t been seeing anyone since the debacle with Hyle. Had she hoped something would happen with that man from the museum opening last month? Sure. But he had been a fleeting thought, a daydream. Men who looked like the Warrior reborn did not turn to Brienne to find his Maiden. 

Today, all Brienne hoped to find was some stir fry vegetables for dinner and a nameday card for Catelyn; the head of the History department at KLU and Brienne’s oldest friend. However, when Brienne arrived at the cards aisle, she found it overwhelmed with ones for Maiden’s Day. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she bypassed most of them until one caught her eye. 

“It’s yours,” Brienne muttered, picking up the card from the rack. It was two hand-drawn knights; the man handing over his heart to the woman. “It will always be yours. That’s...”

She trailed off. It was the sort of card she would have liked to have received had she ever been in a committed relationship come Maiden’s Day – or even in one where her partner gave a damn. Brienne’s fingertips traced the edges of the illustration. The woman knight was wearing blue armour; at her side was a sword with a lion pommel. She almost looked like—no, that would be ridiculous. Brienne turned it over. Lionheart Cards. Huh. 

As Brienne put the card back, another stole her attention. “We don’t get to choose who we love,” the front of the card said, illustrated with a lonely knight atop a balcony looking out onto the sea. She opened it up and found him cuddling another knight; his white cloak surrounding them both. “But if we did, I’d choose you.” 

Turning over the card, Brienne found it was another Lionheart Cards design. They were beautiful; reminiscent of Goldenhand and the Blue Knight – her favourite historical tale. She and the man from the museum opening had spent a good hour discussing their enduring love before she had been called away by Barristan, the curator. Although Brienne had no one to give them to, she found herself drawn to the designs. They were worth a keepsake at the very least. 

Putting the first two in her basket, Brienne sought out any others. There was one with a raggedy-looking man on the front being dragged across a meadow by a female knight in golden armour. “I’m a prisoner.” Brienne quickly opened it. The two were bound together on a horse, smiling at each other. “Of love!”

There was another: the two knights fighting what looked like childish drawings of White Walkers. “How in Seven Hells is this a Maiden’s Day card?” Looking inside, Brienne found the rather sweet – albeit macabre – sentiment. “Not even death will stop me from loving you.”

The last one Brienne found was clearly based on Goldenhand’s rescue of the Blue Knight from the Harrenhal bearpit. She was in a torn pink gown, he was missing a hand, and there was a very grumpy bear in the corner. As Goldenhand cradled the Blue Knight in his arms, she asked, Why come back? Brienne didn’t even have to open the card to know the response. “I dreamed of you.” 

As well as the inscription, however, there was also a string of eleven numbers. A production code; a misprint in the final batch. Brienne just shrugged and put the last card in her basket. She then headed for the fruit and veg aisle, picked up the necessaries for her dinner that evening, and walked over to the self-checkout. Waiting in the queue, Brienne zoned out, thinking about the curious staff at Lionheart Cards, before she was broken out of her reverie by a man arguing with the self-scan. 

“It is in the bagging area, you stupid machine!” He smacked the side of it, growling. He then turned to Brienne and said, “I swear, these things save just as much time as—oh. It’s you!”

“It’s you!”

The man from the museum opening! He was just as beautiful now as he had been that evening. Dark-blonde hair falling across his eyes; a well-trimmed beard barely concealing his charming smile. Many of the attendees had been mesmerised by his appearance, Brienne included. She had not expected him to be so enthusiastic or well-informed about history; had thought him dragged to the opening by a friend or client. But he had surprised her, and their conversation had been one of the best hours of her life. 

Then Barristan had called her over, and when she’d come back to the Oathkeeper exhibit, he was gone. 

But here he stood. In the flesh. “I’d hoped to see you at the museum again, but you haven’t been back.”

He wanted to see her again? “Classes started back up; I’ve been swamped with work. I’m a History lecturer at KLU.”

“Of course; I understand. So, do you have a name, Professor? Something else other than a love of Goldenhand and Ser Blue I can track you down with, just in case you run off without giving me your number again?” 

“Brienne.”

A spot on the self-checkouts opened up, and Brienne passed the Warrior to put her shopping through at the farthest end. Her face aflame; she focussed on checking out her groceries and not on the way his bottle-green gaze lingered. As she went to the payment screen, he sidled up to her. His eyes widened at the sight of five Maiden’s Day cards in her bagging area. 

“Lots of admirers, Professor Brienne?”

Her flush deepened. “No. I just—”

“—what, not even one?” he said, leaning against the self-scan until he lost his balance, half-fell into the bagging area, and set off a whole heap of alarms. “Sorry.” He turned to the unimpressed attendant. “Sorry.”

Brienne chuckled. “The–the cards, they’re not really for anyone; I just like the designs. I think you would, too: they’re Goldenhand and the Blue Knight.” 

“Really?” His eyes sparkled. “Anything...interesting inside?” When her brow furrowed, he changed topic. “Would you like to get dinner with me tonight? Or tomorrow, if those vegetables won’t keep.”

“I always get items with good sell-by-dates,” Brienne said, in lieu of accepting this handsome and sweet man’s offer of dinner. Mentally kicking herself, she nodded. “Dinner would be lovely.”

“Great. Good. Great.”

After paying, they walked out of the supermarket together. Brienne was suddenly struck by something. “You know, I don’t even know your name.”

“Jaime. My name’s Jaime.”

“And what do you do, Jaime?”

His leonine grin made her stomach flutter. “I design greeting cards.”

[heyheydidjaknow]

I finished it, finally! Yee fucking haw! It’s not perfect, but I’m not feeling terrible about it, and the next one is going to be fun. Unless something happens, the next chapter should come up on Sunday as planned. Knowing me, it won’t, but I wanna hope. As always, the table of contents and the previous chapter is at the bottom, and a full list of the shit I’ve published is at the bottom of the table of contents. I’ll do a proper proofread tomorrow. Right now, Grammarly and Kami are carrying the team, so if there’s a mistake, take it up with them.

Chapter 14

“I trust you won’t be creepy.”

“I’m thankful.” Yoshi runs his thumb along the rim of his cup slowly. “You have little faith in me, as I understand it.”

You try not to be disrespectful. “Well, things in your life could’ve gone better, right?”

He seems to consider this for a moment. “I suppose so.” He takes a slow drink. “Mistakes from my youth have led to many hardships. Still, though the road has been a long and strenuous one, I would not want to change my past.”

Your untouched drink is cradled in your hands. “You don’t regret anything?”

“It is a foolish and maddening thing, longing for a life unobtainable to you.” He closes his eyes, your own scanning the walls for the photograph you know is in some nook or cranny. “Besides, if things hadn’t happened the way they did, I wouldn’t have my sons.”

You can understand, intellectually, he does not mean to be—and likely is not— as arrogant as you perceive him. Still, something about the way he sits, the way he speaks, even how he looks at you now makes you feel painfully inferior, as if you reacting the way you are makes you somehow beneath him in more than a literal sense.

You decide against arguing the point, eyes flickering from the shrine back to the man in front of you. “I guess that’s true.” You know you are not going to drink any of what he has offered until you have to. “And you’ve always thought like that?”

He nods. “It was what I was taught.”

Nodding, you look back down at your cup, a deafening stillness settling between you two. ‘He convinces me to come here,’ you grumble silently, ‘and all I get for it is a lecture and an awkward silence.’ You look back up at him, setting the clay vessel on the ground and pulling your knees to your chest. ‘I could be doing something else, like fixing my shirt or something.’

“Speaking of them,” he continues, “Donatello tells me you have been experiencing night terrors.”

‘Snitch. Did he tell me he told him?’ “You don’t?”

His eyebrows rise. “Sorry?”

“We have the same trauma,” you explain simply. “Both our families died in fires we caused. Think that counts.”

He does not even flinch. “I’ve never thought of it that way.” He smiles softly. You want to punch him in the face. “I suppose so, yes.”

“You seem pretty calm about it.”

He chuckles at your expression. “I’ve had fifteen years to come to terms with my loss,” he takes another drink. “And,” he jokes, “I was often simply too exhausted to have nightmares back when the wound was fresh; caring for four young boys is tiring, you understand.”

“Right.” You crisscross your legs in front of you. “Yeah, the makes sense.”

“Having said that,” he continues, voice lowering, “I can’t imagine going through what I did at your age.” He sighs. “If something like that happened to one of my boys at this age, I can’t honestly say how they would cope.”

‘Poorly. I’d guess they’d cope poorly.’

“I understand that you and I have differences in ideals and morals.”

“You could say that.” Your mouth stretches into a wry smile. “I honestly only started hangin’ with and helpin’ y’all as a way to make up for my manslaughter. With this exception, I live by the adage, ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys.’”

“As I said,” he covers his mouth to hide his amusement, “we differ in that respect. I take it that’s why, when Donatello explained the situation—” you break eye contact—“he was unable to explain in any sort of detail what they were about.”

“Not his circus not his monkeys. ‘Sides,” you shrug, “he was already being really caring and understanding, and I was already sobbing my eyes out, which I’m sure he already told you, so.”

You stare down at your tea. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“Not if I don’t have to, no.” Your face heats up.

“Do you want my help?”

‘I hate this,’ you squirm. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be here if Donnie hadn’t asked me to.”

“For someone who believes in leaving people to their own devices,” he notes, “you seem to value the requests of my son a great deal.”

Your knees are back up to your chest. “He’s important to me. He’s been there for me. It’s the least I can do.”

He takes a beat to gather his thoughts. You brace yourself for a lecture.

“You care for him, then.”

You nod once, treading carefully.

“Romantically?”

You still do not look at him directly, staring instead at the gorgeous screen door. “I dunno.” Your fingernails scratch at the surface. “I’m not exactly in my right mind, you understand.”

“I can’t say I do.” A pause as he takes another drink. “Then again, I’ve only felt for one woman all my life.”

“Look at that,” you try to joke. “Another difference between us.”

“Do you mind letting me in, then?”

“A little,” you admit, “but I will since there isn’t really a point to being here if I don’t.”

“That’s the spirit.” You can hear his smile.

You set the cup down again, glancing up at him before fiddling with the laces on your shoe. “People under stress and without anywhere else to turn tend to latch onto the first people they relate to,” you explain, practicing your knot tying with fumbling fingers; there is no harm in practicing your dexterity. “He was the first guy I met after I died, got kidnapped, and almost got killed by a giant vine creature. I like him,” you clarify quickly, “I really do, but it’s hardly fair to pursue that sort of relationship, especially considering everything going on with the Kraang and Shredder.” Your eyes go out of focus. “We get along great,” you mumble. “He’s sweet, kind, generous, and empathetic. He deserves to make sense of his feeling properly without me muddying things up with my possibly trauma-induced attachment.”

“So,” he clarifies, “it is not that you aren’t in love with him, but, instead, you’re worried for his sake?”

Your face goes scarlet as you choke on your saliva. “T-that’s a bit—uh—extreme, isn’t it?” You rub the back of your burning neck. “I’m not even sixteen, Yoshi. You don’t understand love properly at sixteen!”

“I fell for my wife at thirteen,” he smiles. “It’s certainly not impossible.”

“That’s—look,” you protest, “that is entirely besides the point. The point,” you state, “is that is completely irresponsible for me to pursue a relationship with your son. Frankly, I’m surprised you don’t agree.”

“He cares for you. You know that. Who am I to decide who he does and does not pursue, especially when that person makes him happy?” He reaches for a worn kettle sitting between you two on a table, pouring its contents back into his teacup—you remember Leo telling you that it is technically called a yunomi. “I find love typically does no harm so long as it does not consume you. Moderation is key.”

You look up at him. “So, you don’t have any reservations about it?”

He takes another drink. “I wouldn’t say that. He is my son, after all. In truth,” he admits, “I was more concerned that my sons would never experience what I did than anything. Given the circumstances of our existence, I’m sure you can understand my wish to give them a relatively normal, happy life.”

You sigh. “I guess, yeah.” You adjust your blanket again. ‘Seems counterintuitive, teaching them the art of murder, but I guess that’s his normal.’ “That’s just a generally good parenting thing though, right? I’d hope you’d want that even if you weren’t a giant rat and they weren’t anthropomorphic turtles.”  

A parent. He is talking to you like one might speak to their kid.

“I suppose so,” he nods. “It’s been difficult, but we’ve certainly come a long way over the years.”

The screeching of tires pierces the still air, the chattering of his four sons bouncing off the concrete walls.

You strain to hear what they are saying. “I never noticed that there was an echo in here. It’s less noticeable than in the tunnel.”

“That’s by design,” he explains. “I’ve made something of an effort to dampen it.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” You set the yunomi on the table. You sigh, holding your breath and downing your now gross, cool tea in three quick gulps. “I hate to cut this short,” you lie, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and tottering to your feet, “but I’ve gotta check to make sure everything went smoothly on their mission and adjust my timetable accordingly.”

He nods, deciding not to point your tell out. “I won’t keep you, then. Would you like to borrow my cane?”

This is not the first time he has offered. You, of course, refuse.

“Oh well. I thought I’d offer.” He sets his cup down, staying seated. “It has been pleasant talking with you, Y/N.”

“Likewise, Mr. Hamato.” You nod once in acknowledgment, hopping over to the door and slipping out into the hallway.

Your stomach churns at the stench coming from the lab—you can smell the gasoline. You lean against the wall, making a pointed effort not to eavesdrop and rapping your knuckles against the door. Their voices immediately lower to hisses and someone drags the door open.

“Hey,” Mikey beams. “We were just talking about you. Need somethin’?”

“Just is an over-exaggeration.” There is a considerable amount of protest as Donnie pulls him away from the door with an uncomfortable edge to his voice. “P-please, come in.”

A beaten DIY van sits pathetically on the subway track, looking not dissimilar to a burnt, crushed soda can from where you stand. The once hot pink graffiti has most certainly seen better days, and you squirm at the thought of the sound it must have made if you understand the situation properly. Raphael, who you glance at out of the corner of your eye, looks similarly beat up. Of course, you are not going to say anything because you value your life.

You whistle, smiling incredulously. “So,” you try not to laugh, “I take it you took on the cucaracha.”

“Made it my bitch is what I did,” boasts Raphael. “Shot it with a laser.”

“Cool, cool.” You chuckle at his excitement. “You take care of the egg?”

Is there a better sight than watching the light in someone’s soul die? You would hesitantly say no. “The what?”

“Right outside the building,” you elaborate. “On the side of the road. Looks like a horrifying imitation of an orbee?’

He takes a slow, deep breath, holds it, exhales. “I’ll be right back,” he says calmly, and sprints out of the lair.

Michelangelo laughs. “Were you being serious or are you messing with him?”

“Serious.” You readjust the blanket, trying to subtly figure out how to breathe without being assaulted by the mechanical smell. “I won’t joke about that sort of thing. It’s cruel.”

He hesitates. “… speaking of, are you alright? I didn’t get to ask before.”

The other two are quietly watching the interaction with an odd amount of intensity.

You shrug. “I guess. Probably.”

“Alright,” he nods. “Just lemme know if you need to talk, alright? Donnie’s no—ow!”

“Don’t talk bad about people in front of them,” Leonardo criticizes. “It’s rude.”

“You called him special, like, four hours ago!”

“The word of the day is hypocrisy.” Donatello puts his hand down.

“Hypocrisy’s right” You rub Mikey’s shell reassuringly. “To be fair, though, Leo could honestly probably just dodge it anyway.”

He leans into it. “I guess,” he grumbles, shooting a look at Donatello. “Favoritism.”

“It’s strategic favoritism,” the tallest brother corrects. “It’s to encourage parti pris.”

“Cronyism,” you tease, grinning. “You mean cronyism.”

“Hey, I’m plenty qualified!”.  

You stifle a giggle as his face reddens, looking back over at the battered vehicle, raising an eyebrow.

“That was a team effort.”

“Yeah, okay, Hamato.” You blow a strand out of your face. “How long do you think it’ll take to fix?”

“Half a week? Maybe a bit less.” He looks back at it ruefully. “The spy roach completely jacked it.”

“Clearly.” You remove your hand, Mikey seemingly thoroughly comforted. “Then mind if I borrow a needle and thread so I can fix my jacket? I have school tomorrow.”

“Do you have the dexterity for that?” Leo crosses his arms across his chest absentmindedly.

“If I can hold a pencil,” you reason, “I can do basic stitching. ‘Sides, it’s only gotta hold until I get home.”

“I didn’t know you sewed.”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking now.”

Donatello pipes up again. “I really don’t mind—”

“Dude,” you reason, “you have to fix a whole ass van. I’ll manage.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “It’s a quarter to twelve. You won’t finish before midnight.”

“Then sucks to be me.” You shrug. “I’ll fix it here and walk home.”

He looks at you with a surprising amount of incredulousness. “It’s New York City.”

“You go out at night all the time,” you protest.

“I can carry you—”

Immediate panic. “Nah, I’m good!” You try to sound confident. “I walk home all the time, remember?”

“Not at midnight.”

“What’s a couple hours difference?” You would rather get attacked or kidnapped than fly over buildings again.

“A hundred-twenty minutes,” he states. “You know that crime is statistically more likely to happen at night, right?”

“That tracks. What’s different?”

“Violent crime peaks at midnight.”

Mikey butts in. “Why can’t she just go in the blanket? It covers enough.”

Donatello rolls his eyes. “Mikey,” he sighs, “she’s a teenage girl walking around with her torso covered by a single conspicuous quilt. Let’s use our heads here.”

It takes him a minute. “So you’re worried about her getting, like, attacked?”

“… were you paying attention to any of the conversation? Or the lesson we just learned?”

“Dude,” he protests, “when do I ever?”

“What, you mean the one where y’all learned to face your fears or the one where talking about people in front of them is rude?”

The bitter edge to your words is not lost on him. “Look,” he reasons with you, “I-I’m not saying you’re incapable of taking care of yourself—”

“You are, but that’s not the point.”

“Shut up, Mikey.” You are surprised he did not punch him, though, admittedly, you can hardly argue the point. “What I mean is that if you put yourself in harm’s way, you’re going to get hurt.” He nods at Leo. “He’s a really experienced fighter and even he gets overwhelmed if he goes out of his way to do something reckless and dangerous like Karai.” He spits out her name like it is poisonous.

“Since when have you had a thing against Karai?”

The eldest brother sighs. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Unimportant, and nope. Point is,” he continues, fingers twitching at his sides, “it doesn’t make sense to tempt fate.”

You open your mouth to argue. You close it again. He has an extremely valid point all things considered, especially considering everything that has been happening, and although you are completely certain about your stance on him carrying you home, you would be lying if you said the idea of stumbling home without your walker or shirt sounds very appealing.

“Then what exactly are you suggesting?”

He looks off. “I’m suggesting she stays the night, Leo.”

Mikey blinks. “What, in your room or on the couch?”

“It would be up to her.”

That works for you. “Your home. You pick. Where do you keep your sewing supplies?” You slip out of the circle the four of you have formed.

“On top of the bookshelf,” he points. “Behind the cardboard box.”

You nod, hopping over.

Mikey offers his two cents. “It makes more sense for you two to share a room. It’s kinda cold in the front room, and you guys’ll probably end up going to bed at around the same time anyways. She also has your blanket.”

You stand on your toes, fingertips brushing against a plastic container.

“That’s a fair point.” You catch it before it cracks open on the ground. “Training starts pretty early, so she should have time to grab her things before school.”

“See? Foolproof plan.”

“Would Master Splinter approve?”

“Leo,” you call over your shoulder, “he’s slept over at my house twice already. I really doubt he cares.”

“But we don’t know.”

“Then you can go ask him.” You turn around. “Where’s the jacket?”

“In the cardboard box.” Donnie starts towards the train wreck on the tracks.

You pull it down, taking your shirt and jacket and sitting down, crossing your bad leg under the one you can use, despite the nausea. ‘Exposure therapy.’ “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You glance up at Mikey, who crouches down next to you as Leo waves to his brothers and leaves. “You need anything?”

He shakes his head. “Just wanted to hang out with you is all,” he shrugs. “You didn’t go after Donnie.”

“I didn’t,” you nod in agreement.

“Why?”

“Because car.” You unlatch the box, carefully digging around inside for some pins. “That, and the smell is bad enough from over here.”

He crosses his legs in front of him. “That’s fair.” He taps his foot absentmindedly. “You think he knows?”

“I thought I made it pretty damn clear,” you shrug, “but it’s Donnie, so I wouldn’t bet on it.”

He grins at that. “Then do you wanna hang out while you work on that out front? He isn’t exactly talkative when he gets in the zone.”

You shake your head. “If I do, I won’t get much done,” you admit. You unwind a long portion of the thread, snapping it apart. “Besides, the only way to get over a fear is to face it head-on.”

“Alright.” He hops to his feet. “Thought I’d ask. Have fun.”

”Bet,” you mumble through a bit tongue, shaky fingers making threading the needle almost impossible. “You too.”

“See ya.” He waves, running out of the lab.

You let out a breath, picking a piece of loose wire off of a table and creating a poor imitation of a threader. While you genuinely enjoy talking with Michelangelo, you have some things to think over.

Clumsy fingers start on a running stitch. If your timetable still holds true—which, surprisingly enough, it has thus far—the episode after next’s plot will take place in about three weeks. Your cast is coming off in two. You do not know where and when The Kraang are coming through their portal, or if there is any way for you guys to know, but seeing as you are skipping the episode where the turtles get stuck in a labyrinth under the assumption that, without Baxter being bullied by the Shredder and his goons, he has no reason to construct it, you would tentatively estimate the next episode will happen in about a week. You are still fairly sure that Stockman will not get involved with the Shredder without his input until Oroku finally opens his eyes to the dangers and powers of the Kraang, which should happen around the same time as the next episode.

Your eyes glaze over as you get into the groove of it. ‘The next episode is also when the guys get on Karai’s shit list because they betray her, and, if that happens, the episode where the Shredder starts getting involved with the Kraang and comes to appreciate their resources." You prick your finger. ‘It wouldn’t be long after that before Saki gets the idea to create a mutant army, and with Baxter already somewhat on the villainous map, our best chance to make sure he doesn’t end up under his employment is to…’

You wipe the sticky liquid on your jeans, careful of the bandages on your back. ‘It’s not a guarantee that he even knows Baxter exists.’ Your eyebrows furrow in concentration as you try to keep the stitches separated at equal distances. ‘Hell, it’s not a guarantee he’s even alive. Still, it’s better to air on the side of caution and not think about how you’ll have to do it until the time comes.’

You let out a soft sigh. “I’ll buy a gun, when that happens,” you murmur to yourself. “Just want more time where bodily harm is all I have to deal with is all.”

 --

 You slide your poorly stitched jacket over your shoulders under the blanket, pulling your sleeves into place and zipping it up. After folding the blanket up and draping it over your arm, you pull yourself to your feet, hopping over to Donatello and his death trap as he sat down, looking over his work. “How’re the repairs comin’?”

The two of you have not spoken for the three hours it took you to repair the jacket, and significantly more progress has been made on his end than yours. At the very least, the generally rectangular frame was pounded back into submission.

He looks over at you, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and stifling a yawn. “Fine,” he sighs, looking back at the hulking mass of metal as you lower yourself down next to him. “It won’t blow up or anything if it’s driven, but it still needs another day’s worth of work to get it back to where it was before.” You nod along as he goes into more intimate detail, not understanding half of it, but happy to just listen to him talk resentfully about the whole process that you can tell he genuinely does not mind.

“Sounds like a time.” You rest your head on your good knee. “And you’re not gonna fix the graffiti?”

“It rubs off,” he shrugs. “Besides, it’s not exactly important to the design.”

Your head bends in a subtle nod, cheek numb from the pressure of your knee. “Are you going to sleep today?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? It wouldn’t be a bad idea.” His legs are almost crisscrossed in front of him, and he leans his weight back on his skinny, muscular arms. “I honestly don’t want to leave it alone, though. It would be weird to just leave it unfinished.

“Hardly, but alright.” You sit up for a moment, handing him back his quilt. “Thanks for giving me something to cover myself up with, and for not ditching me on a roof, and patching me up, and—I owe you, is what I’m getting at.”

He smiles tiredly. “Don’t worry about it, really,” he reassures you, his face flushing and muscles relaxing slightly. “You’ve made it up plenty.”

“I disagree. I’ve never saved your life.” You trace the fading lines on your cast his brother had left.

“I don’t think a ton of people would literally kill someone for me and my family,” he argues. “That’s pretty awesome, right?”

‘Not sure how I feel about framing murder as a positive thing.’ You do not say anything, looking back at his work.

He sighs. “You should go to bed,” he advises practically. “It’s getting late.”

“Never stopped you.” You straighten your legs. “I’ll go if you come with.”

“Tempting,” he teases with a sudden burst of confidence, hoping to his feet and outstretching his arm to help you up, “but what’s in it for me?”

Your face lights up as your face goes red at his borderline roguishness, taking his arm pulling yourself up. “For as much shit as you’re going to get for it,” you promise, pecking where his nose would be with an almost kittenish smile, “I’ll get up extra early, make everyone breakfast, and go topside for coffee.”

His face almost turns the shade of a human blush, forwardness gone in an instant. “C-can’t,” he stutters, clearly flustered. “When I was eleven, I got addicted to it and I’m not allowed to have any anymore.”

“Relatable,” you giggle. You blow the hair out of your face, comfortable as he helps you walk towards the door, the air between you two charged with electricity. “Is that for all caffeine or just coffee?”

He opens it for the two of you, ever the gentleman with the quilt over his shoulder. “Tea’s fine. Don’t bring tea down, though,” he quickly clarifies. “Leo’ll have a very inconspicuous fit.”

You blink curiously, looking up at him as he pulls you along. “Why?”

“It’s the one food thing he’s particular about,” he shrugs, not bothering to hide his gooey smile as you use his upper arm for support. “Couldn’t tell you why.”

“Are you particular about any foodstuff?”

“Not really?” He helps you up a few steps. “I’m not Mikey, but I don’t think I’m that picky about that sort of thing.”

“That’s fair.”

You do not let go of his arm to use the wall. You do not even think to if Donnie is reading your body language correctly. His smile widens as he opens the door for you.

You give a nod as thanks, lowering down onto the foot of his relatively narrow bed. “Alright,” you clap your hands together quietly as he sits next to you. “How do you wanna do this?”

You are sitting on his bed, willing, with no pretense other than sleeping getter. He is currently on cloud nine.

You look back at the frame. ”Too narrow for us to lay side by side,” you note. “You sleep on your front, meaning you will likely take up most of the room." You look between him and the bed, trying to imagine a position that would work. “You could lay on top of me, I guess, but then your legs would hang off the end.”

“I can sleep on my side,” he offers hurriedly. “If that makes things easier, I mean.”

“You sure?” Your fingers fumble with your shoelaces.

He nods eagerly. “S-so long as you still don’t mind being close to me, I mean. The bed’s still kinda narrow.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “We’ve slept together before,” you reason. “If you wanted to pull anything, you would’ve the other two times.”

He glances off, face still red. “Y-yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “That makes sense.”

You gesture to the bed. “Then,” you nod once, “so long as you’re comfortable, you lay down. I’ll work from there.”

He tentatively lays himself down, facing the wall, tensing ever so slightly as you lay behind him, legs curling up under his thighs.

You lay your arm under your head as a pillow, the other pulling the blanket over the two of you. “This work,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Mhm,” he hums, covering his face with his hands. “We closed the door, right?”

You look back over. “Yup.”

“Locked it?”

“Seems so.”

He relaxes a bit. “Alright,” he nods, quietly reveling in the way your fingers, again, traced the indentations in his shell like the first night.

‘When I wake up tomorrow,’ he realizes, ‘she’ll be right there. Right behind me, in my bed. By choice.’ He smiles behind his fingers. ‘When we get older, maybe we could have our own place. Or our own room, more accurately, where she just lives with us. Imagine her moving in. If—no, when,’ he corrects himself, ‘we defeat The Shredder, if I ever get the nerve, I’ll ask her.’ He reaches his leg back, entangling it with yours carefully. ‘Would we have to get married first? No, you move in before you get married, right? I should’ve paid more attention during those movie marathons.’ He closes his eyes as you drift off, focusing on this train of thought. ‘How long do you need to be in a relationship before you get married? How would we get married, even? Legally, that would be impossible, right? I can’t go to a courthouse. And if we had a child—practically speaking, of course—would they live with us or go to a public school? We could give them a good education, I’m sure, but—’

You shift in your sleep, absently laying your arm over his side and pulling him closer.

He exhales, allowing himself to relax back into you. ‘Not tonight.’ He rests his hand on top of yours. ‘It’s too late, too soon.’ His thumb runs along the back of your hand, letting himself drift off in your arms.

‘It’ll be okay. We’ll last long enough to take it slow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

[i-need-air]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do Hawks with a support engineer s/o? Like they make his support items (not that he uses many) and upgrade his costume and he takes that time to flirt and make them flustered and it’s all really cute and fluffy

Ooookay, hear me out! I started this as some cute hcs but I decided I'd rather write a small fic since I somehow felt if would be better and ended up sticking with it in hopes you don't mind. I really hope it's what you wanted and that you like it 💕💞💕

Word count: 1.5k~

Keigo really didn't pay much attention to his support department; he knew he had one, of course, yet anything that needed to be tested by him would've had to be approved and re-approved by his higher ups, then passed to his side-kicks, and then, with luck it would reach him.

One day everything in his life changed as a request to test a new pair of goggles was placed on his desk by his secretary. His last pair has been smashed in a small battle with what seemed an insignificant villain so this seemed like the perfect time to test new prototypes.

He sighed, getting up from his chair in a stretch, scratching his stubble in wonder. Does he even know where his support department is?

You sighed, checking the tiny locators on your desk through a frown. The past few weeks have been exhausting to say at least.

When you first arrived at Hawks', The Hawks' Hero Agency as a junior support designer life seemed like it was heading into the right direction, yet as you reached your first month mark, the fact that there weren't any other junior designers started to make so much sense. Nobody payed any attention to the newbies, which was infuriating, degrading, unmotivating... but you had to fight through and not quit as the last ones did. It was a competitive business and you almost reached the bottom of the top, why settle there? So as your superior ignored you, you started learning more about your Hero's costume and it surprised you to note that he barely had any supporting items. Hell, even those goggles were... plain? He could do so much more! And as you made plans and started building, you made reports of all the prototypes created and jumped to send them to the higher-ups without even informing your seniors. It never hurts to try, right?

"Ah, finally, I've been running around in this building for-e-ver!" Someone said behind you, startling the living hell out of you which ended up with paperwork thrown everywhere.

You turned in shock already recognizing the voice behind you. Your eyes, wide as plates, landed on the man that you've been studying meticulously for the past few months.

Crimson feathers surrounded you as an amused smirk formed on his features. They started catching and picking up the papers surrounding your figure and gently placing them on the desk.

"Well, hello there~." He said, stepping in your office with curiosity, sharp eyes taking in his surroundings with just a glance then setting back on you.

"Mister Hawks." You cleared your throat and adjustes your apron.

"Mister? How old do you think I am, dove?" He said, shaking his head and laughing.

Ah, great, now I insulted my boss. You dryly thought.

"23, sir." he gasped, putting a hand on his chest.

"Sir?!?" before you could apologize, if there was something to apologize for, he continued in a dramatic way. "How could I allow an angel to call me sir? Please, it's just Hawks." He smiled and you squirmed in place.

You heard he was easy going, a very laid back yet lovely individual, but the way he called you any nickname in the book made your cheeks burn. You avoided his eyes, as they were intensely observing you, and cleared your throat.

"What do I owe the pleasure, sir—" you stopped yourself as he opened his mouth and lifted his finger to, you assumed, scold you "—Hawks...?"

"Oh? You don't know?" He looked around trying to find something, his face lighting up when spotting it. "I came to test a new pair of goggles, of course!"

It's then when you really took in the condition of your office. A disaster. The higher-ups sent Hawks there without even notifying you! You could've cleaned up! And they sent Hawks to test your goggles! THE OFFICE IS A MESS AND THE NUMBER 2 HERO IS IN IT TO TEST YOUR—!

"Oh, my god..." you muttered, not really believing it's really happening. It's the same reaction you had when you landed this job yet now it was turning into reality.

"Sorry to interrupt that train of thought—" he paused. "Excuse me, I don't even know your name. The audacity!"

"Oh! It's [L/N] [Y/N], sir."

"Hawks." His smile, which was heartwarming, never left his face.

"Hawks." You repeated, heart hammering in your chest even when being playfully scolded by your boss.

"So! What's a beautiful little feather like you doing in a place like this?" He inquired, obviously way too into the moment. Keigo could feel your beating heart from where he was standing and could clearly read your amazed expression. He guessed you were new in the department and gave himself a lecture about not coming here beforehand. With a sight like you he would've been in the support department every single day.

At the same time as he was taking you in, you needed to do something to keep yourself busy from his face, his voice and his words, so you turned around and started cleaning up a little bit. He called me a beautiful little what now? you panicked, dreading you'd bite your tongue or something when answering back.

"I work here." Nice one, [Y/N]. you cringed in place. But instantly deducted it would be better to maintain a professional environment instead of leading on what seemed to be just a flirty attitude.

"I can see that, yes." Keigo really tried to keep himself from chuckling. How could such an adorable being exist in his close proximity and he didn't notice? In any way, the blond felt bad for making you nervous so he deflected the situation. "About those goggles then!"

"Oh, yes!" You turned towards him with a smile, the excited sparkle in your eyes taking his breath away for a second. "First of all, I'm sorry about the mess, I wasn't informed you were coming—"

"Oh, we can change that from now on." He chimed in, earning a pause and a tilted head in confusion from you. "If you give me your number I could tell you whenever I'm coming! Easy!"

Have you ever had a moment where your brain stopped functioning for a whole minute? Exactly that happened.

"You could— ehem, you could tell your secretary to inform me before you arrive." You sheepishly said, still trying to deflect in the best way you could. He had such an ease to make you embarrassed, apart from the fact that you didn't know for sure if he was playing with you or not. Remain professional. Not like you could be as smooth as him anyway...

"Aww." He pouted.

"The goggles!" You jumped, trying to distract yourself from that sight.

As you settled them in front of him and started explaining every new detail about them, such as the new auto face-recognition they had implemented, voice command, personalized A.I. and more, he could only watch you in wonder. A few moments ago you were overwhelmed and flustered at his behaviour, which he wouldn't lie, he really enjoyed to see, but this confident person talking so passionately about their work made him beam. He took in your features, the complex words you threw at him settling in the backround of his mind as he noted he'd have to ask you what they meant just to have the excuse to get to hear you talk again and again. He didn't know why he loved the way you wrinkled your nose when you told him how hard it was to get access to the national database, he definitely didn't know why he savored the way your giggle made his good ol' heart skip a beat, he absolutely had zero idea why he was entranced by the way your lips curved in a smile...

Oh, he knew. Of course he knew.

"Could you add Spotify?" He found himself asking.

"... What?" You blinked stupidly at him.

"Or Netflix. Can you add Netflix?"

"I— What?" He snickered.

"Can you?"

"I mean, yes—" Did he brush off your whole work just to ask you to add Netflix?

"Great! Can you do it by tomorrow?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Awesome! How do you like your coffee?"

"Uhm, why?" You muttered.

"Because I will drop by and I'd like to treat you with coffee."

"Oh, that's nice. Thank you, it's—" you told him your favorite coffee in wonder as you watched him play with the goggles casually. Is this Hawks? A flirty airhead?

The goggles sounded absolutely amazing, no doubt of that, but he definitely needed an excuse to come by tomorrow, also giving him time to come with other excuses to return again and again after that. Something told him he had to see your beautiful face again and he was the type of man to trust his instincts.

"Okay, noted." He nodded to himself. "I'm sorry to say it's my time to patrol but at least I found a loop-hole to keep seeing you!"

How could one single man make you short-circuit twice in such little time span? Your absolutely baffled expression was worth a million bucks in Keigo's opinion and the adorable little lip pursing that followed was the cherry on top.

Yet what he didn't expect was for you to grin through your flustered expression.

"I'll add some actually good pick-up lines as a widget in the corner too, then." You shrugged.

And seeing Hawks baffled? Nothing else topped that.

[dessarious]

Guilt and Consequences Pt8

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

Lila had no idea how long she sat there, trying to remember anything about her father, or supposed sister, but she came up completely blank. Considering how young she had to have been in that dream it made sense, but it was still frustrating. Her mother never mentioned her father, let alone any other family. Lila remembered asking once, after she’d been put in a school for the first time because the other kids asked her about it. She’d lied to them of course, but it had made her curious. That question had gotten her grounded for a month so she never brought up the subject again.

Maybe that was why her mother disliked her. If she’d been the cause of her father’s death it would make sense. Well, assuming her mother actually loved the man. Given that there was nothing in her life to indicate he even existed except Lila herself she highly doubted it. None of this made sense. And that was before she added in the possible sister that most likely wasn’t her mother’s daughter. If her dream was at all accurate, she looked nothing like them and spoke with an American accent. So a half sister most likely. The next question was obviously what had happened to her? Lila felt fairly confident that they’d both made it out of that building, even if she didn’t know why, so the most likely scenario is that she went to live with her mother or other family. It was probably for the best. Given the way the woman treated her, Lila didn’t even want to think about how she’d be with someone else’s kid she got stuck with.

“Are you alright?” Lila started and looked up to find Ladybug’s concerned look. When had she gotten back? When did it get dark for that matter? She stood up before answering.

“Fine.” That actually wasn’t a lie. She was always fine.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lila just shook her head. She preferred to work things out on her own for one. Even if she didn’t she wouldn’t make someone whose life she’d made more difficult listen to her issues. Ladybug sighed. “Thanks for the tip on Alya’s powers. Granted, once I told Chat the fight took five times as long because I had to keep him from purposely getting hit, but that was my error in judgement.” Lila looked over to see a grimace on the hero’s face and frowned at her.

“Why in the world would he try to get hit?” That was possibly the stupidest thing she’d heard of. Ladybug just shrugged.

“To find out my identity. He figured he could get hit and have someone ask him. Again, it’s my fault for not realizing he’d try that. He’s always been extremely unhappy that we have to keep our identities secret from each other. I think he’s just lonely to be honest.” She looked so tired and Lila felt her temper spike the way it did when she found out what the class had done to Marinette. Why did everyone seem to think this type of thing was normal or okay?

“I don’t care if he’s completely isolated from the world, there’s no reason he should be putting you and all of Paris, or worse, at risk just because he wants to infringe on your boundaries. You shouldn’t have to put up with that period, especially when it makes your job harder.” The girl just blinked at her in confusion and Lila had to wonder what the hell was going on in this city. No, she didn’t have the greatest home life or example but she read a lot. She’d been through enough psychological books and journals to know that none of this was right. Why didn’t anyone seem to see that?

“I should probably get you home.” Ladybug wouldn’t even look her in the eye. Great, she’d screwed up, again. She wanted to apologize but she didn’t know where to even start. With her track record it probably wouldn’t come off as sincere anyway.

“If you just want to get me down to the street I can walk. There’s no reason for you to waste your time on it.” She winced when she realized how harsh that sounded. She really was terrible at social interactions.

“Making sure you get home safe isn’t a waste of time, especially after dark. Your mom’s probably worried.” Lila couldn’t help the derisive snort that left her. Even if she was in the city it was doubtful she’d care unless Lila’s absence became a problem for her. “I’m sure your mother cares about you.”

“I’m sure my mother regularly wishes I’d never been born.” It was moments like these that Lila wished her mouth would consult her brain before opening, but she was certain that wouldn’t ever happen. Ladybug was looking at her with a horrified expression. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk?” Lila nodded. Talking didn’t do anything so there really was no point.

“I just want to sleep.” It wouldn’t be a good sleep, but it was better than nothing. Especially since she had to go back to school tomorrow. She didn’t even want to think about that trainwreck.

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

The next morning started off as badly as she expected it to. Over half the class cornered her in the courtyard demanding to know why she was pretending she’d been lying. By the time they’d given up she’d was hoping for an aneurysm just to be able to stop listening to this nonsense. Then Adrien had shown up to lecture her about getting Alya Akumatized. She’d honestly never wanted to hit someone so much in her life, but she did manage to refrain. She couldn’t refrain from calling him a spineless coward, but that at least got him to walk off in a huff.

“Lila!” She started cursing internally until she realized that had been Marinette’s voice. When she looked over the girl was running towards her waving some papers with a huge grin on her face. That was… weird. As she got closer Marinette tripped on a crack in the pavement and Lila had to move to catch her.

“Are you trying to kill yourself? The idiot squad is going to think you were trying to fall on me on purpose, and I really don’t want to have to deal with one more problem today.” Marinette just gave her a sheepish look. She really had no clue how bad things were.

“I found the perfect school for you!” For some reason her brain refused to understand that sentence.

“I… you… what?” Marinette shoved the papers she was holding in Lila’s face, far to close for her to be able to read anything.

“Look! The classes are by skill level not age so you won’t be bored like you are here. They do small class sizes and even have options for individual study so you can basically make your own curriculum. They’ve got one of the top computer programs in the country and they have a photography club too. Isn’t it great?” Lila finally managed to get the paper out of Marinette’s hands so she could actually read it and realized it was a brochure for a private academy.

“Even if I wanted to, my mother wouldn’t pay to send me to a place like this. Half the reason she keeps sending me to school is to not have to pay for tutors. Besides I’m not going to go off and leave you alone in this asylum. Especially given that the staff are just as bad as the inmates for the most part.” Marinette just gave her a confused frown.

“They’ll calm down in a few days, you’ll see. The school has scholarships you can apply for and look.” She pointed to a section at the bottom of the brochure. “They even have on site housing so the next time your mom has to move for her job you could stay there so your studies don’t get interrupted again.” Lila would admit it was tempting. Truthfully, her mother might pay for it if it meant she didn’t have to see her at all. She scanned the paper and an idea formed.

“I’ll go if you go.” Marinette just blinked at her so she pointed out the possible educational tracks. “There’s an art and design program that would give you a much better education for the future you want than anything you’ll get here. You need to start thinking about your future as well.”

“But I can’t just leave all my friends.” Lila wanted to slam her head into a wall. It would probably hurt less. She’d have to talk to Marinette’s parents. They at least would think about their daughter’s wellbeing and have a much better chance of getting her to do what was best for her.

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[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 27 (NSFW)

Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad

Read Chapter twenty-six

Title: There is No Redemption

Words: 7.4K

Summary: Happy trail worship? Happy trail worship. 

ST Rambles: Hello readers, I hope you enjoy this part. I am in my final semester for my ADN and cannot promise even monthly updates at this time. Please, please, please comment your thoughts because I don't want to produce content that is not enjoyable. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

[MASTERLIST] || BANNER / @elmidol

Stress enveloped your skull in throbbing pain, Karmen’s six-hour rundown stinging your senses and drawing you inward.  Halfway through, you had already begun to feel the excess of information take its toll; Zag’s voice – unpleasant in small doses – grated into you, each word coming too fast and leaving too soon.  Thankfully, no doubt to cover herself, she had left you with a thumb drive; it summarized everything she’d mentioned.

After the ordeal, when she left by the sharp click of her heels, you understood why it was recommended to arrive two days prior to the initial hearing: you were utterly and dreadfully exhausted.  After unpacking – ensuring easy access to your favorite socks and keeping Snoke’s letter tucked into the back drawer of a desk – you had sat in bed for an hour trying to refresh with the thumb drive’s contents; you’d were determined to be prepared for tomorrow’s shift at Canto Bight’s recovery wing.  If nothing else, you would not make a fool of yourself during your practice here.  This you swore to yourself.

At some point you had drifted to sleep, waking to find your cheek stuck to the datapad that’d been propped up before you.  The sunset woke you with a searing ray of light, screaming fuchsias and hazy purples warming your outstretched arm as they cast through open curtains.  The breeze rolled off of the bay and tickled loose hair over your nape, a deep breath stretching your lungs awake before you unfurled from yourself. 

The radar at your wrist indicated Kylo Ren was near but not in his quarters, probably not inside the building.  It was a confusing feeling – the unsteadiness you felt when revisiting your earlier interaction, the vagueness of his words contradicted by the certainty in which they’d been delivered, but simultaneously this calm in your chest since you had left him.  Although you had no idea what he’d gone on about, or what in time meant, his mere presence – the fact that he was near and would continue to be – allowed you these glimmers of peace.

Not since Starkiller.  Not since Snoke.  Not Mason and his baseless confidence, no matter how much you wished to latch onto it; not Talia, who had helped you back from your darkest moment.  The only things that stilled you were the known proximity of your master, and the nature of the words he’d earlier spoken.  You’d felt it that recent night on the Finalizer, how it lingered in your muscles just before you’d dozed off, how it seemed his presence had scared your nightmares away.

However ridiculous and backwards, Kylo Ren – the one whose pain is printed on your skin, who led a slaughter just strides away from you – had become a constant.  It was never what you had expected, but when you thought of the trial now, what eased your nerves was nothing less than the raven-haired warrior whose face was slashed with midnight hues of pain. 

Much like you, you’d come to realize, he had survived Starkiller, and the event changed him.  Though you could not know for sure, you began to wonder if what had gone on had not only left him with the wounds that’d wet your skin, but perhaps ones that were deeper – ones that were not so visible.  Something happened before that explosion, something more than whatever fight had earned him that scar.

You shook your head; this was too much to think on right now.  With a throw draped over your back, you trudged through the room and out into the chill of your side-balcony.  This sky held more beauty than any you’d ever seen; you watched the sun descend, spying a domed, octagonal pavilion at the far left of the side gardens.  It dripped with violet-petaled ropes and emerald ivies, was supported by scalloped columns entwined with twinkling blooms welded from gold, the whole stage centered around a sunken fire pit. 

Considering for a moment, you saw it would have a better view of the sunset, and you’d been cooped up since arriving.  It was a quick decision, catching view of a spiral of stairs that led to the grounds, but only after noting the pair of doors a few paces left of your room’s.  They were closed, and the inner curtains seemed to be shut, the room behind them dark.  Empty.

No, Kylo Ren was not here, but – a thumb over your radar – he was not far.  Somewhere off on his own business.  Training, maybe.  At least, that’s what you supposed kept you from traveling with him, the thought frustrating.  Maybe – no, undoubtedly – he would never admit to it, never show it, but he was still recovering. 

Ten days ago he was in a medically induced coma talking about someone named Ben and how he’s dead.  Bacta works wonders, but it means nothing if a patient is noncompliant with post-operative restrictions, like swinging around a plasma sword for hours on end, or doing trial runs with the Force – which, although you knew little about, one could easily assume it put strain on the body. 

Maybe you were wrong and your master was completely fine, maybe the Force aided in healing.  No matter, you worried; for him, mostly, never forgetting how he appeared in that medbay, but also for yourself.  It was clear that you cared for him – for fuck’s sake, when you thought you’d never see him again you wanted to tell him you loved him – and you knew his pursuits could very likely be the death of him.  Stubborn as you might be to acknowledge it, so long as he was okay and not recklessly shredding through healed wounds, so long as he returned to you, you could rest somewhat soundly.

Hugging your blanket, tighter when the wind blew, you wandered down to the courtyard’s trim lawn, along the overflowing flowerbeds that brimmed with brilliant colors, until you met the few steps that led to the pavilion’s stage.  Flames shocked you when you stepped onto the eight-sided base, your presence triggering a hidden system.  The rectangular pit exploded into a rainbow of fire, thin veils of flames ascending elegantly into an ordered myriad.  The pit was massive, consuming the base but for a few paces from each support.

Much like everything else, the pavilion was grand in size and decoration; the hearth’s hues danced along the draped flora, at least ten paces separating each gold-threaded pillar.  Everything here was explicitly luxurious, so big and gorgeous.  You wanted to settle into it, but it was temporary, and you would not know how fatal that fact was until it was too late.

Farther out, flames rippled over the bay; the sinking heat of the sun endeared your skin, the warmth at your back growing in distance as you gave in to the silent call of the scorching sky.  First tracing the tip of one of the gold leaves woven to a pillar, admiring the detailed stems and ridges, you curled up against the column’s wide base.  Head caressed by the smooth, cool stone, knees curled close to your chest, you were glamored by the water’s rhythmic sway, wondering if you would ever have the chance to feel it on your skin.

It took little effort to keep Karmen’s lecture from your thoughts, too lost to the burgundy of dusk that bloomed as the sun wilted toward the bay.  A stillness surrounded you, and then you tuned into the chirping whispers of bugs that remained hidden with the fall of night.  It did not bother you in the slightest, their distant songs a reminder of your life before the academy.  A passing thought, fond amusement lazily humming in your chest – there are no crickets in space. 

You remained folded against the pillar for some time, watching night creep over the city, more grateful for the heat on your back as warmth waned, the moon climbing higher with each lulling minute.  The stone iced into your cheek.  You went to leave, but your commlink buzzed at your waist, and you knew it would be wiser to keep this particular conversation outside. 

Elbows to your knees, you ruffled a hand through your hair, closed your eyes, and answered Mason’s call.  “How’s your day, McCarty?” There was no use in starting an argument if he had moved on from earlier.

“Probably better than yours, if I had to guess.” He sounded chipper.  It was a relief.

“Well, what went on? Where’d you go? Who’d you see? What’d you eat?”

“I’ve really just been hanging out at the house since getting here.  Caught a nap, which was nice.  Soto sent me a transmission detailing updates on a few patients.”

He wasn’t hostile at all.  Hopefully it meant he was done being weird.  “I also got a nap.  Which, agreed, is definitely nice.  Especially after being kept in a room with Zag for six hours and trying to keep my head from exploding.”

“Six hours? With Zag? Are they trying to get you convicted of murder?”

You shared a laugh, scooting along the stone floor and peering up to the ceiling.  It was tiled with mosaics, the fire’s vibrant colors reflecting off of it and shifting along the intricate designs.  The view of the city was wider from this position, distant lights shimmering in windows that peered into whatever parties were undoubtedly happening. 

“She isn’t that bad.  It’s just her voice.  And I barely have a handle on anything other than the fact that I have my first shift tomorrow, and then two days after that is the initial hearing.  And I don’t even want to think about that to begin with, so…”

“Well,” he sighed your name, “I’ll be there.  Bright and early, just like you.  Wearing my second-best attire, saving the very best for the official trial, of course.”

“Jeez, that’s another thing, right? They fly us out here, put me up in some military-grade villa, but they give me nothing to wear, are aware that my residence just exploded on Starkiller, and then still say I can’t wear my uniform.  I just find that a bit unfair.  But that’s what I think, which we both know has not mattered since the very beginning of all this.  I don’t even know why I expected anything different.  I’ll just have to request transport to the shops or something.  And then make credits appear out of thin air to pay for it.”

With notably increased enthusiasm Mason said, “Actually, I, uh, I was going through the house earlier and there’s actually a lot left over from my family’s recent trip.  You’re free to come over and take some stuff back to your embassy if you want.”

“Alright, first – not my embassy, and if we’re calling it anything, I vote palace.  Seriously—” you stared at a trellis that overflowed with wild blooms of every shade of red, the dead, fallen petals mocking you in the familiar way they pooled beneath.  “—this place is too beautiful for any of the old businessmen who stay here.  It’s actually ridiculous.”

“So it’s not homey, after all?”

A bellowing laugh came from the center of your chest, echoing up to the domed roof and into the growing dark.  “No.  No.  Not homey.  Not quaint.  None of that.  Just giant and spectacular.”

“Well, whatever it is, do you want to come over and grab some clothes?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah.  That’s a lot better than spending credits I don’t have.  Although maybe I’m worrying for nothing? Don’t they forgive your debt when you die, anyway?”

Mason did not laugh, did not even speak, and your amusement fell into alarm.  An edge menaced along each pointed word when he spoke; “Maybe they’ll forgive your debt, but I won’t forgive you for dying.” He grunted in rejection.  “You’re not dying, so I don’t know why we’re discussing this.”

Silence swallowed you both, and for a moment you could hear him trembling, hear the shakiness of his breath.  A sharp exhale startled your hand from your ear.  And then it was quiet again.  He cleared his throat, and you noticed how thick it had become.  Was he crying?

“Mason, you need to tell me what’s going on.  And don’t say-,”

“Nothing is going on.  It’s fine.  We’re fine.”

“Funny, because when you say that, when you tell me we’re fine when I didn’t ask, it makes me think the exact opposite.”

He sighed, but at this point there was a good chance it was more exasperation or fuming than anything else.  “I’m not having this conversation when I can’t see you.”

“Well, I’ll just turn my transmission on and we can-,”

“No.” Clipped, barked.  Final.

It concaved your chest.  Mason had never spoken to you like this.  Your teeth scraped at your bottom lip.  “Should I be worried?”

He paused.  “No,” as it gritted through his teeth, your name was contoured with wisps of ire.  An ounce less of restraint and whatever he was holding back would crack this hardened, taut façade.

The worst came to mind.  All you could manage was a terrified whisper, “Are you revoking your seat to testify? Is that what this is about? Am I about – fuck – am I about to- I can’t lose you.  I can’t-,”

“I told you.  I told you I will be there.” Frosted fury swept through his following pause.  His flat tone was laced with quiet hurt when he next said, “Do you really think I could do that to you? Leave you in the dust like that?”

“No.  I guess not.”

“You guess not,” he thought aloud, a long drag of breath crackling into your ear.  “I’m glad that you’re settled in, and… good luck during your shift tomorrow.  You don’t need it, I know, but nonetheless.”

He was dismissing you.  You hated it.  “I’m not hanging up until I know we’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” he said simply, too fast.  Mason cleared his throat.  “Request transport for the morning after your shift.  You can shop around the closets and after, we can order lunch and… and we can talk.  About things.  Everything.”

It was apparent he would not give anything more away, but you knew from his flat tone that whatever it was, was detrimental to him.  Or you.  Or both.

“Yeah.  I’ll put in the request after shift tomorrow.”

Another long, aching silence.  You listened to his breath, trying and failing at ignoring the knives in it.  The line remained silent, the hanging static a backdrop to the hidden, harmless creatures humming in the night. 

“I love you, Mason,” you prompted, teeth catching your trembling lips, time choking you with every halved second that trudged along.

It killed you, every inhale adding to the weight in your chest, every empty, wordless moment he spent cutting into you with a silent blade.

Another second and you turned back to the heightening tide of the bay, the clear night sky dying it a deep navy.  Even as you tried to focus on the waves that foamed along the distant shore, there was no sound louder than Mason’s nonresponse.

“Goodnight,” Mason said, small, far enough away that it splintered through your heart like ice wedged through rock.

“Good-,” the line went dead, the static dying, a night-kissed wave crashing in your periphery, “-night.”

The iridescent veils of hearth rippled before you now, turning away from the seemingly infinite expanse of water.  Even so, you shivered, and you were sure it had nothing to do with the weather.  Tucking your commlink into your waist pocket, loosing a long-kept breath, you stood from the stone and clasped your blanket over your shoulders.  With a final glance, chin to your shoulder, you appreciated the beauty of your first night here. 

Whatever awaited you tomorrow, the next day, and in the weeks to come? It would remain.  For now, just this one moment alone, you could pretend that everything was okay.  Just for a moment.

A soft touch brushed your shoulder, but when you turned to meet whoever it belonged to, you found there was no one around.  But a light caught your eye, one that had not been there before.  Maybe that interruption to the dark captured your attention, but not at all was it what kept your gaze above the gardens.

Through the clear night, a breeze danced through the flora, glittering scarlet petals into the shadows.  Above those dwindling rubies, leaning over the balcony’s curve, was Kylo Ren.  Behind him, the golden light of his quarters caressed his back, small fragments draping over the sharp, toned muscles of his shoulders.  He was staring down to you, his gaze laving along your figure, eyes those of a predator aware their prey was no match for them.  The ever-heightening moon was all that lit his front, but it was enough.  No, so much more than enough.  Entrancing.  Captivating.  Beguiling.

Light cascaded along the taut strength of Kylo’s abdomen, his broad, thick chest emanating with the smooth white of the dusk’s sun.  Once more, like it always did, the scar skating through his features kept your attention.  From a distance it was less intrusive, but its presence sank your heart like the sun had wandered into the sea.

A whip of night air pushed his hair back to tease his ears, his head slightly cocking to the side when you found his eyes again.  There was no color to them, none that you could see so far away, but you felt their heat slink along your lips, then your neck, over your chest, and lower still.  When they claimed yours once more, they were sculpted with steadfast steel, strong and slithering, ordering your compliance to the smoking promises beyond.

Without noticing, that chill from earlier had left you, and you gathered the blanket so it hung from your forearm.  Kylo held you with his eyes, the fire’s warmth falling away when you stepped off the platform and wandered, in leisure, down the steps and into the plush lawn.  A dew was readying to form on the grass beneath your bare feet, the coolness welcome under his blazing attention.  One step, two, another, and a final; small, shuffling, like you were hypnotized – truthfully, you could have been, but there was none but your own intent in the steps that carried you closer to him.

Only when he straightened to his full height, standing away from the balcony’s edge, did you halt your advance.  He paused there, watching you, so gracefully still you were unsure of his breathing.  From his new position you could no longer see his hands, but – you could feel them.  A pressure along your cheek, your heart stammering at how its span so completely matched his own, and then around your throat, dizzying when it teased your carotids.  Breath shivered from your slack mouth, catching when that – his – ghosted touch skimmed down your sternum and pushed into your rib cage. 

Kylo made no sound, but when the night’s quiet scattered around your faint, gasped moan – feeling the whispered hands smooth over your hips, around the front of your thighs – you saw his jaw flutter, darkness and moonlight tangling when he gave you one final glance.  The phantom touch left, a feline smirk flickered along his lips, and when his brows descended and veiled those deep, deep eyes, Kylo turned and sauntered out of sight.

But you understood his message, the silent one that only his body spoke, and you knew that his leaving was not goodnight, but an invitation.  One you fully intended on accepting. 

The trees swayed above you, the beds of perfectly spaced flowers blowing with the gentle breeze and combining with the sea behind to fill your head with the salty, fresh aroma of a Canto Bight night.  Each step you took along the patterned grass shimmered anticipation through your veins, heady, wanton thoughts brimming in your mind.

The cold stone that marked the ground level’s patio shocked through you, wet crimson petals that had pooled below the trellis now clinging to the soles of your feet.  You did not have time, or at least were desperate to not waste any, to pluck them off, allowing them to travel with you as you led them up the curved staircase.  As you climbed the steps, you stole a fleeting glimpse of the bay; from this height the city’s nightlife sheened along the shore, a few private ships zooming above the skyline and carrying their passengers to events unknown to you. 

Events that you could not have cared less about, not when you arrived to the second-level balcony, not when you saw the swaying curtain beyond Kylo Ren’s open, waiting door.  No, those events meant nil, exceedingly so when you found the beginnings of a trail leading into his room, the first crumb that of pooled, discarded athletic pants. 

Instant, overwhelming chills clamored about your skull, the blanket draped over your arm joining the black bottoms when your limbs went wobbly.  Through the wind-swept gossamer you spied the second addition – one long, impossibly large, black sock – and when you came closer, the cool of night waning as you met the threshold, your heart thrummed louder at the nearing shaft of light that fled the refresher’s entrance. 

Heated tiles warmed your first steps into Kylo’s room, the coquettish curtain kissing the tip of your nose before the door at your back locked shut in near silence.  You brushed past the veil of fabric and took in your surroundings, quite different from what they were earlier.  The golden rays of morning had since been overridden by soft panes of night, only the moon reflecting onto the light tile, not a single star to join it.  The bed’s canopy remained shut, its thin sheets cascading around the bed so there was ample space to walk within its soft confines.  And from that canopy, from the circular track above, bloomed delicate, mild light; it melted midway down the canopy, fading to nothing before it breeched the polished ivory below.

Another step and you noticed the trail of scarlet, dew-drop-covered petals you were leaving in your wake.  On the step up from the bed’s level lay a second sock, so you padded to it, and tuned into the sound of heavy, rushing water that became louder as you delved further into the dimly lit room.  This level was dark save for the glow of the open refresher; you followed that light like a lost vessel in space, hands trembling as you passed through the sitting area with soundless strides.  Finally, as you’d calculated at the earlier bareness of his chest, you found the piece of clothing that signaled your final destination lying at your feet.

Atop the refresher’s threshold lay a pair of black boxer-briefs – unfolded, just as they’d appear fresh off the heated, muscled body from which they’d come.  A smile played at your lips, remembering how the pair he’d so generously provided you the morning after you’d first slept next to him had hugged your hips with subtle compression.  Those, unfortunately, were undoubtedly obliterated with everything else that had exploded with Starkiller. 

Kylo Ren was nowhere within view, but running water tucked behind a corner to your left, and when steam swirled around an inlet that bordered a sleek, unbroken wall of ash-grey tile, your lungs lit with need, with want, your thoughts only focused on the body and man that waited for you just beyond view, just out of reach.  Suddenly you became aware of how overdressed you were, so you turned to your right and found a mirror that ruled its own wall and plucked open the top button of your uniform.

The fogged silver expanse provided a blurred, softened outline of your near-bare body, scalding goosebumps scraping up your neck at the thought of Kylo’s slicked, dripping body.  Hands hooked behind your back, you loosed your bra and smoothed the straps down the sides of your arms.  And then all that covered you were the lack-luster panties the Finalizer had provided all those months ago, but they soon joined the small pile at your feet, leaving you naked and anticipatory and adamant.

Plopping your watch onto your clothes, you squared your shoulders, fixed your posture, and approached the heat of the hidden shower.  Its warm embrace evoked such a calm through you, first loosening your shoulders, then steadying your breath.

Beyond the smoke hued barrier was a chamber of luxury, the water cascading from above like it came from an invisible storm cloud; its volume suggested a harsh pressure, but, stepping beneath the jets that seemed to span the entire stall, your skin was graced with the pleasant fall of a spring shower.  Looking up, blinking through the misted warmth, you found the navy night sky peering down at you through the clear glass ceiling.

All light but that of the moon left the stall, and when your attention shifted down, you saw him through the sheets of water that kept you apart.  The air was thick with fog and mist and night, but he remained the most devastatingly gorgeous person you’d ever seen, ever known.  You needed him to be closer, you needed to be closer to him.  No matter if you’d been with him those few nights ago, and though you’d spoken just hours ago, there was a tautness that tightened as your steps brought you to him. 

Arms at his sides, stance strong and confident, Kylo Ren was a stride away from you, and you stopped.  Inky black hair dripped down his neck, and his mouth was set in a flat, unreadable line, but all you could think of was how it felt you were seeing him for the first time all over again.  He was different now, body scarred and worn from the passing of time.  You did not stare at the red and black that had only been there for such a short time now.  You appreciated it.

Kylo observed you, and a measure after your gaze followed the ebony ribbon rested in his countenance, you lifted a hand to it.  He tensed and you caught his eyes, giving him a small nod before the very tip of your fourth finger kissed the start of his scar.  You watched him, vaguely aware of your hand slipping along the marked path through his brow and down his cheek.  Breath pushed from him in eased waves, his eyes danced between yours, and when you reached the line of his jaw and tapped your finger to the raised, pinking skin there, you closed your eyes and leaned up on your toes so you could press an aching kiss to it. 

That tenseness that’d clanged into him at your touch was instantly gone, the heated streams above not a match to the stifling relief that fogged from his nares.  So near to him, a second hand pushing through wetted, onyx locks, you remembered how he’d stared up at you on the Command Shuttle, how unreadable his expression was when his new scars had still been fresh wounds.

Your touch found the tail end of his healing flesh, and you swallowed down a thick, betraying sob.  “Why did you believe me?” you whispered, not looking up to him.  “When I told you I hated you and I wanted to quit.  When I said,” you winced, “when I called you a bastard and said I wished I could forget you.  Why didn’t you fight it longer?”

Kylo was quiet for a moment, body still but not reluctant to the steady meandering of your fingers.  Something haunted him when he said, “Irredeemable bastard, if you’ve forgotten.”

“No,” your throat bobbed, “I haven’t.  I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day.  Any, any part of it.” Looking up at him, you smoothed your hand over the scar settled into his shoulder.  “After that morning, after everything, why did you believe me?”

“You were saying goodbye,” he murmured, like he’d mulled over that day time and time again and never considered the possibility.  “Before Takodana.  You knew.  He’d gotten to you by then.” A note of betrayal sharpened his tongue, a snarl lighting when he referred to Snoke.

The hand that wasn’t tracing circles along his scarred muscles now toyed with his ear, the tip of your index finger molding to the curved pinnae.  “Kylo,” just a breath, nearly drowned by the water ricocheting at your feet, “answer me.  Please.”

Smooth, low, he began, “Because who could-,” he swallowed, considering you before starting over, “Because I’ve never known anyone who didn’t hate me.  And I’ve always been a bastard.  So when you said those things, after that morning, after you’d ran through Starkiller to tell me and kept saying them…”

Memories fluttered behind his eyes, and as their burning brown centered glittered against the navy night, you lifted your hand so you could hold his face, hold it like a parent would caress their child’s tear-sodden cheek.  Kylo blinked back to you and you comforted the purpled skin beneath his eye. 

He did not want to voice the answers you sought, but you watched as, piece by piece, you dented one of those walls he’d erected in that time-stained interrogation room.  Perhaps it was a hopeful thought, but you swore you felt him ease into your hand.

“I stopped fighting because only a fool counters the truth of his life.” Kylo’s throat bobbed, his deep, shadowed gaze swallowing you whole.  He caught your hand and led it flat along his broad chest, and then to the panes of his abdomen, placing it over the bruised, raised flesh of the scar you’d yet to explore.  “I believed you because there was no reason to doubt you.”

The showering heat from above shielded that which was blurring your vision.  He believed you because he believed those things of himself.  After seeing him wear so many masks, physical or phantom, you saw it in his eyes that he still thought those things and had for his entire life.

And then it made sense, and the realization dragged jagged, thorn-wrapped talons through your heart.  You whispered through the water, wondering if you were speaking only for yourself when you said, “That’s why you didn’t look inside my head.  You didn’t think it would show you anything different.  You didn’t think I could ever feel differently.”

You ran your thumb along the uneven ridge of the scar forming over his side and tucked your other arm around his waist.  With the force that kept moons anchored to their planets, you pulled him in and nestled into the notch of his breastbone.

Through your teeth, “You are not a bastard.  Or irredeemable,” your fingers dipped to the center of the healing tissue, “I’ve learned that we make the choices we think are best, and if that’s true, if I believe it? What do either of us have to be redeemed for?”

Kylo said your name, clear as the night that loomed overhead, and a patient finger tipped your chin up.  “Nothing.  Because there is no redemption for those who do not want it.”

Intensity hardened his face, and once more you felt that sense of equality between him and you.  Long fingers smoothed into your drenched hair, and you found a prompt in his brow.  Sighing, lungs stuttering, you asked, “What, then, if not redemption?”

The hand that he’d set over yours shifted to your hip, thick fingers prodding at your flesh.  Kylo’s touch left your chin and the pad of his thumb rolled over the faint scar that cut into your hairline, a twinge of pain lighting at the memory of its origin; it had healed days ago, but you would never forget the sound of it cracking open when Robbie knocked your skull against the durasteel door. 

Kylo stopped musing when he heard you wince, his eyes meeting yours in a stark, unwavering gaze.  He smoothed over the blight a final time and proceeded to skate his fingers along your jaw, his thumb coming to rest over your bottom lip.  Similar to this morning, yet colder and with a quiet fury breathing beyond his eyes, he looked at you with solidarity.

Calm, sure, adamant, Kylo said, “Retribution.”

A moment to process was spent in his gaze, studying how unbreakable it was, swimming in the shadowed hazel that poured into you.  Kylo’s eyes flicked to your lips, and before he could look away, you leaned up so you could reach his own.  The swirled hair at his nape slithered through your fingers when you swept you hand from his abdomen and up his torso.  Massive, enveloping hands trailed praise along your body until they were mirrored under your breasts.

Exploring his skin, your fingers took residence over the small of his back, digging red trails along the slick surface.  You moaned into Kylo’s mouth when a capable hand claimed your supple chest and kneaded into you.  He growled in response, a predatory sound that rippled through your nerves and tightened deep, deep in your belly.  The pliant pads of his thumbs circled your nipples, the very tips of his nails flicking upward before he added his forefingers and pinched the sensitive peaks to his will. 

Kylo mouthed the hinge of your jaw, the bridge of his nose slipping along the bone until you surrendered your neck to him.  He hummed against your artery, sucking away the beaded moisture that’d collected for the past few minutes – or had it been hours? Time evaded you further when the schemes of his tongue at your throat delved deeper, revealed themselves further when he laved at your clavicle, shifting between kissing and biting and marking as he made his way to your breastbone. 

His muscled back flexed as your fingers routed to his front, dipping low until you found the haze of soft, wet hair that grew from his pelvis.  Kylo continued his endeavors and pulled you in by the curve of your back so he could bare your chest to him and run his nose under the base of your breast.  His need for your body was evident in the way he bent you to his will, cradling your back so he could have you, but also permitting a sense of safety in the relentless strength that flowed from his forearms through to your marrow. 

Near limp in his hold, you tread your fingers down his pelvis and savored the feel of that patch of hair, feeling his pulse beat beneath it, reveling how water collected and fled in such a slow, teasing manner.  His chest was to yours, so you felt, rather than heard, the pleasure vibrate from him, deepening when you grazed the very foundations of his hardening shaft.  He breathed into your skin, mouthing at your breast and sucking painful paths as he went.  The heat of his mouth melded around your nipple, and he bit, and even when you winced and writhed with satisfied hurt, Kylo kept on; not until you were sure he’d drawn blood did his teeth – their unique ridges now throbbing into your breast – leave you, replaced by the salve of his plush, scorching lips.  The body of his tongue was structured with adamant, laving over your pebbled peak until poems of pleasure groaned from the depths of your chest. 

He leaned you back up and shifted his attention to the remaining half of your body, but you needed him just as much, and you wanted to litter his body with the same pleasure he’d given yours.  So, snaking your hands to his jaw, you kissed the hinge opposite to his scar and pecked harder and longer, sucking at his skin like the blood that bruised would grant you eternal life.  Falling to your knees in a steady, unrushed descent, you kissed every inch of his abdomen, every bump and ripple of skin that was present around the mending injury.  With eyes peering up, hands cherishing the fronts of his thighs, you tongued the scarred tissue and watched him shutter with ecstasy, eyes half-lolling, mouth slackening for a second before he swallowed down whatever satisfaction would have left him.

You teethed at the soft, raised skin, watching him, content when a guiding hand pet down your slick hair.  Shifting to his middle, you hummed from one hip bone to the next, feeling the tickle of hair that fled from his naval and dispersed in an even, thick layer of black atop his pubis.  Hunger ravaged your throat and you nuzzled into the soft bed of obsidian hair.  A kiss to it, then a nip, and then the tip of your nose swirled around the dark patch, his cock twitching at the side of your face.

Anchoring your eyes to his yet again, you dragged the flat of your tongue through the maintained, drenched hair and pushed both your hands along his inner thighs.  The muscles beneath your touch sang, streamed just as fluidly as the droplets that were trickling down your spine.  Pulling away from him, you faced his cock and observed how it bobbed with your eyes on it, watched it strain for friction when your hands teased both sides of his base, sifting through the dark curls beneath. 

The moonlight painted his shaft with subtle, breathtaking contours – a shadow cast under the spongey ridge of his head, light glinting off the misted moisture that’d caught on his flushed shaft.  Each prominent vein cast a winding whisper of darkness just a measure from the next.  It hypnotized you, the way they overlapped and crossed at points, bulging out from his cock and shifting with each throbbing pulse of blood that clamored through him. 

Curious fingers flitted along the heavy, hot column of flesh, tapping it and listening to the thickening breath from the man watching you through ravenous eyes.  A smirk curved your mouth, and you peppered a light, whispered kiss to his slit, pushing his cockhead just so it met your teeth, and leading your lips away so the teasing burned through him.  You pulled a hand away from his leg and sat back on your calves, taking a breast into it and kneading as he had before, plucking your nipple through each space between your fingers. 

“A teasing little whore tonight,” he purred, voice thick.

You hummed, pleased you were getting to him.  “I’m your little nurse, remember?” The tip of your tongue teased circles into his frenulum.  “And you are my master.  Isn’t that right? Master Ren?” Fuck, the title even got to you, cunt fluttering with the hope to be overflowing with him.

“Good girl, teasing whore, nasty slut? Little nurse? You have so many names now.”

“And all of them belong to you.”

You teased his tip and finally laved a flat tongue on the underside of his shaft, flicking it side to side and gripping into his structured, rippling thighs.  Something animal, completely primal, roared in his throat, and sooner than you knew, Kylo Ren had joined you on your knees, the weight of his cock slicking down your middle and slapping up to your slit when inertia bounced through it. 

A masterful tongue slipped into your mouth and licked your hard pallet, next dropping down and pushing against the side of your own tongue.  A muffled moan – one that you were unsure was his or yours or both – clouded through the shower’s downfall.  But then a throat-thick huff, aggressive and impatient, gnarled through the air and you were spun on your knees so your back was flush with his chest.

“Yes,” he rumbled, “they do all belong to me.” A possessive hand pushed you into him with might, taking residence in the valley of your breasts.  “Your names, your body.  Everything.” His hips canted, and the tip of his cock knocked against your clit, fire billowing in your belly, quicker and deeper now. 

“Everything,” you echoed, finding his free hand and guiding it so it lay over the permanence etched into your thigh.  “I’m- everything.  It’s yours.  I am yours.”

Unrelenting digits bruised more marks around the one he’d made prior, and when you felt his cock fall in line with your entrance, you thrust into him as he did the same, and you took all of him, at once, in one, fluid, aching motion.  An unabashed cry echoed euphoria throughout the moonlit stall.  Before you could fully recover from the first thrust, his hand – the free hand that didn’t remain under your own, clutched to your thigh – dipped into your folds and that blooming fire from earlier mushroomed at the graze of his thick digits against the buzzing nerves. 

Thrust after thrust after thrust, fucking into you and filling you to the brim and then some each time, knocking the air from your lungs and burgeoning those sweet spots within with each paced, violent pass.  All of that pressure combined with the winding circles and strokes he racked your clit with, you felt the breath of climax rise first in your chest, and then upward into your throat. 

Kylo was panting by your ear, sucking the skin behind, clutching you to him so it became uncertain where his body ended and yours began.  You hooked your arm above your head and clutched at his drenched tresses, flailing for a better grip and settling on clasping your hand onto the back of his neck.

“I feel you,” he groaned.

“Feel me,” you huffed.

“I know you.”

“know me.”

“You’re mine,” your name was laden with yearning claim, lilting from his tongue so it caressed your mind, body, and soul all in one fell swoop. 

“Yours,” you heaved, “all, yours.”

You came.  Simple.  Body swimming in the schemes his fingers and cock and tongue and voice forced into you until it became too much.  A few thrusts more and his pace faltered, cum spurting against your walls and dripping out of you as more and more left him.  Full lips pressed fleeting, lulling praise into your nape, your shoulder, until he angled your head to his and branded his lips to yours. 

Spent, emotionally and physically, you fell into him and enjoyed the image of his legs framing your own.  But then your eyes lolled shut and you simply breathed, settling into this moment as best you could, and tried to memorize the tide of his chest slicking against your back.

Barely aware in the vague, misty stall, you only realized that Kylo had begun cleaning you when he guided you back to your feet to rinse you free of soap.  Even then you just leaned into his chest and let the jets spray silken streams down your skin.  And then you were wrapped in a heated towel and cradled in his arms, leaving the steamy refresher and coming into the gentle atmosphere within the golden gossamer canopy.

With less than a word, maybe a breath, the light from above waned to nothingness, and the room was black save for the glinting eyes that studied your own.  The towel discarded to the floor, you now lay beneath the thick comforter and linen sheets of Kylo Ren’s bed.  Both naked, you huddled together in the center of the expansive mattress, legs wrapped together in an impossible knot, each breathing in the other’s warmth. 

Ease trickled into your muscles, and you shifted so your forehead could rest in the heat of his chest.  

“What changed? From the other night?” you yawned.  “What convinced you? About Snoke.”

He was tired, too, you knew, the hand tucking you into him tracing lazy, distracting circles into your back to keep him from sleep.  “Perspective, really.  Seeing things clearly for the first time in… Seeing things clearly.”

For now, fatigue caressing you, that was an answer you could accept.  He’d given you more of his mind tonight than ever before, and you did not care to mar that fact with a half-wit interrogation.  Perhaps you would listen to him this time, given how little you potentially had left, and do as he’d said this morning.

Trust me first.

It was sound advice, and not worth questioning on the eve of your first shift on Canto Bight.  So you nuzzled into him and giggled when the tip of your nose nudged that black healing ribbon over his collar bone.

“I like your scars,” you hummed.

You could not be certain, sleep plunging you into its riptide, but just before it pulled you under, you swore you heard the fatigued rumble of Kylo Ren’s voice whisper, “I like yours too.”

[flowesona]

guess how much i love you - soft yandere! seokjin x reader

This is part of the MFEEU canon, written by the amazing and talented @worldwidemochiguy​. I hope I can do it justice :)

“What’s wrong, little Yoona?” Jin crouched down to see Yoona. She was sulking in the corner, having pushed away all of her pseudo-siblings until one of them finally resorted to asking Jin for help. Jin always had a way to make Yoona smile, yet even now as he pinched her cheek and gave her buckets of attention he could barely get a sniffle out of her.

Finally she gave some kind of reaction to him. As he continued to try to coax her into smiling, she finally pointed at something as the cause of her woes. Jin followed where her finger was pointing to the sofa, where Hanuel and Jihae were cuddled together with their Nintendo switches engaged in visiting each other’s towns in animal crossing.

“Why does Hanuel-eonni treat Jihae differently to me?” She whimpered. Her godfather smiled, turning her gently to face him.

“That’s because they’re in love. One day, you’re going to find someone you love like that.” 

“Really?” Yoona was looking at Jin as if he was some kind of prophet, enlightening her on the path to true happiness.

“Yes. You know that when I met aunty (Y/N) it was love at first sight?”

“Really?”

“Of course, Yoona. Of course, it wasn’t easy, but love never is.” Seeing how his discussion with Yoona had pacified her qualms slightly, he had an idea to make her happy.

“How about I tell you the story of how I met aunty (Y/N)? Should we find your Shooky and have a storytime?” He offered.

“I’m not a kid anymore!” Yoona had pouted, but eagerly climbed onto his lap with her round plushie in tow ready for his highly anticipated storytimes.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“N-no, stop!” Jin raised his head at the sound of the melodic voice. His focus switched from the seven takeaway coffee cups he was trying to balance to the source of the glorious sound. And it was love at first sight.

She was near perfect. Her skin glowed, her eyes were filled with an otherworldly mirth and her sweater hugged her body in just the right way. The only part of her that was marred was her arm, to which some unattractive boy clung. Not a hair on his body held any appeal, yet the girl seemed infatuated, giggling at every word he said as they waited for their order.

“(Y/N)? A cappuccino with a double espresso shot?” So that was her name? Jin watched as she took her coffee with a sleep-deprived grin. And he knew he had to have her.

He whipped out his phone and dialed Taehyung’s number quickly, still glancing at the couple as they waited for the vermin’s drink.

“I need your help.” He said quickly. “Fuck, she’s leaving.”

Taehyung quickly caught on.

“Follow her. See if she’s going home. Do you have her name?” Taehyung’s voice was background noise as Jin followed (Y/N) out of the shop. Snow was starting to drift down, sticking to his hair and dampening his clothes but in that moment his appearance was the least of his worries.

As he told Taehyung her name, her appearance, and the university he presumed she attended due to her sweatshirt being emblazoned with the name of a nearby establishment. 

“I found her. We’ll have all her details in a few hours. Come back to the offices and we’ll sort this all out, alright?”

It was only when he hung up his phone he realised that half of the various hot drinks he’d volunteered to bring back for everyone - planning to secretly use the outing as a opportunity to spike their beloved drinks with salt - had spilt onto the ground in his haste. But he couldn’t care less about his colleagues when fate had granted him a much greater design.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“We understand you applied for the assistant role last week?”

(Y/N) was hidden in the back of the university library, trying desperately to keep her voice down whilst attempting to quell the situation.

“As I said, you’ve got the wrong person. If you’ll excuse me…” 

“You are (L/N) (Y/N), correct? We have all your details on record.”

She didn’t respond.

“Well, if you want the position then come to our offices by 11AM tomorrow in business casual.”

The phone call ended, leaving (Y/N) with all sorts of unnerved feelings. 

Those feelings intensified as she stood outside the offices the next day in a simple blouse and trousers. Whilst the strange circumstances surrounding the offer were nothing to be ignored, she’d looked up the company name to find they were a reputable business, and their staff pay was nothing to sniff at. As a student barely able to afford a coffee in the morning, could she really afford to look a gift horse in the mouth?

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The job was truly a blessing upon her life. Reasonable hours that perfectly coincided with her university lectures, decent pay and fellow employees who seemed to respect her.

She didn’t know why, of course. How could she know of the stranger pulling the strings behind the scene to get her into his arms?

“Sorry, could you drop this off with Kim Seokjin? He’s on the top floor. You can borrow my keycard to get there.” One of her colleagues asked, pressing a manila folder into her hand along with the keycard needed.

“Sure.” 

Her heart was pounding as she scanned the keycard to enter the new level of offices. Never before had she been around such high up executives, who could have her fired in a second if they so pleased.

(Y/N) approached the first man she saw.

“Excuse me, do you know where Mr Kim is?” She asked timidly.

“You’re speaking to him, darling.” He responded, turning to face her. (Y/N) resisted the urge to blush when she made eye contact with him, as he excluded an aura of attractiveness and wealth she could never compete with.

“Oh, right. This is for you, sir.” She handed over the folder, trying not to die from the embarrassment.

“Wait a second.” She felt a presence next to her. Standing by her shoulder was another man. To put it simply, he was gorgeous. From his clear golden skin to his sharp features, it was as if an ancient statue had been breathed into life.

“That was meant for Kim Seokjin, right? That’s me.” 

As if the situation could get any worse.

“Kim is a common surname, darling.” The former man commented as he passed the folder to the real Seokjin.

Noting the look of anguish on her face, Seokjin took one of her hands into his own.

“You’re new here, right? Don’t worry, it’s an easy mistake to make.” He offered her a warm smile.

“Thank you. I should go…” (Y/N) gently tried to pry her hand out of his hoping to end the whole interaction as soon as possible.

“Here, my card.” Seokjin pressed a rectangular business card into her hands, emblazoned with his name and number in stunning cursive. “Call me, and I’ll take you out for dinner sometime. As an apology.”

(Y/N) nodded, and he finally released her. 

The business card lay buried in her purse for days afterwards. She couldn’t bear to face him again to be reminded of her embarrassment. But her interia was only serving to anger Jin.

“It’s been three weeks, Jin-hyung.” Taehyung said cooly. “Maybe it’s time to try again.”

His office had become a second home for Jin, who would spend around an hour each day ranting and raving to his boss, who just took it all on board with a knowing grin every time.

“How?” Jin muttered. “How do I get her to talk to me?”

“If there’s a will, there’s a way.” Taehyung responded, tempted to return to his mountain of work but also not wanting to leave Jin to wallow in doubt.

Jin just kept pacing.

“You could give her a promotion? Or maybe you could turn up at her university and sit on a lecture or two. That way you’d have an excuse to see her when you like.” Taehyung pressed. “You’ve still got some holiday hours this year to spare.”

Jin didn’t reply, but his decision was already made.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) was ready to go back to sleep. No number of espresso shots could cure her banging headache, as her hangover weighed down her body as if she was carrying a ten pound barbell on her back.

She didn’t noticed how someone new had slipped into the seat next to her in the lecture theatre. All that occupied her mind at 9am was the desire for sleep. The double life of being a student and office worker was wearing on her hard, and she was contemplating on handing in her notice. The only thing that kept her from so was the tantalising paychecks and the haunting beauty of Seokjin, the memory of whom which had remained in some unused part of her brain.

The professor had a droning voice. The monotone syllables were practically a lullaby, and surely resting her head for a few minutes wouldn’t hurt? Not when she was at the back of the theatre and was practically unnoticeable.

Jin smiled as he observed (Y/N) slowly drifted into a deep sleep. The poor lamb had overworked herself. If only she knew of how he wanted to make sure she would never lift a finger again. He’d bided his time, months of casual stalking building up the the moment he’d finally decided to sit next to her, and how fortune had smiled upon his to give him the chance to admire her without being ‘creepy’.

Her deep sleep remained uninterrupted as people started to leave the lecture theatre, and a daring plan started to form in Jin’s mind. It was dangerous to just take her in the middle of the crowd, but it wasn’t like anyone else was particularly attentive at 10am and besides, anyone who asked questions could be paid off without a worry.

Gently he scooped (Y/N) up under his arm. She didn’t stir, as he gently guided her to the exit amidst the groups of other lethargic students. Navigating the crowd with a sleeping girl attached to him wasn’t easy, but Jin managed to make it out of the building and into his car without her waking up. It warmed his heart to see her head loll against the soft leather of his car interior as he indicated for the driver to start the engine.

Halfway to their destination, (Y/N)’s eyes starting to peel open.

“Mmmm... where am I?” The confused words stumbled out of her mouth as (Y/N) rubbed at her eyes.

“We’re going home.” Jin responded simply.

“Home? Wait... why are you here? Aren’t you... you’re one of the bosses from work?” The gears in (Y/N)’s brain we’re starting to turn.

“Well... yes. We can call this a promotion, I guess?”

The warmth of his smile, the smooth feeling of the leather car interior against her back and the steady beat of her heart all worked to convince (Y/N) that she was alright. It wasn’t conventional, but the adoration in Jin’s eyes was like a dream.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Unfortunately, a serious event plagued their ‘honeymoon’ period.

On Tuesday morning, as Jin gently woke her up with a cup of coffee, he noticed something was wrong. Her face was hot to the touch, and she could barely open her eyes.

Evidently, the cold weather and her busy schedule had taken a toll on her health. For the day she was stuck in bed, Jin dabbing at her forehead with a wet cloth and feeding her spoonfuls of broth.

“(Y/N)? How do you feel, my love?” Jin posited as she was nestled up half paying attention to the TV he’d brought into their room.

Through her drowsy drawl, he could barely make out what she was trying to say.

“Why are you… so nice? No one has ever loved me, not like you do. It’s not normal, to have your boss slash kidnapper treat you better than your exes. I don’t know why I’m not fighting you like any sensible human should.”

Seeing tears start to well up, Jin wiped at her eyes, wanting to shush her but simultaneously wanting her to continue praising him.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend who cares for me like you do… this isn’t right. I must be dreaming.”

Jin gave her a soft smile, his heart drumming loudly in his chest.

“This is reality.This is love. And I love you all the way to the moon and back.”

Before he could go on to tell her of what lengths he would go to show her his love, she’d fallen asleep. 

He wanted nothing more than to stay by her side for the rest of the day, but the vibration of his phone in his pocket reminded him that he still had a job to do. He left the bedroom before answering it, closing the door with as soft of a click as possible.

“How’s it going, lover boy?”

“Shut it, Jimin.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“You see, love triumphs all. When you love someone, you should stop at nothing to make them love you back.” Jin concluded. Yoona had been hooked onto his every word, Jihae and Hanuel long gone both from the room and from her mind.

“Yoona? Yoona, we have to go!” At the call of her father the young girl clambered out of her godfather’s hold.

“Do you feel better now?” Jin asked. She nodded happily.

“Will you tell me more stories next time?” 

“Yoona!” Yoongi finally found her next to her godfather. 

“Go find Mommy, she’s got your jacket.” Yoona nodded happily, rushing off leaving only the two colleagues.

“You’ve gone soft, hyung.” Yoongi commented.

“Show a bit more respect for your elders.” Jin snarked back, but he couldn’t hide his happy glow.

“Sure thing. Pass on my regards to your wife.” Yoongi said before turning on his heel to find his own family.

Now that he was all alone, Jin pulled out his phone to send a quick message.

‘Be home soon, love.’

(Y/N) responded about ten seconds with a gif of two dogs hugging, to which Jin chuckled.

‘I love you. All the way to the moon and back.’

[cosmiclatte28]

Cute Neighbor (Taeyong x you)

Okay sorry another Taeyong imagine! Coz i can't handle his charms 😭😭😭

Tell me if you're sick of taeyong imagines and i can write you someone else's...

WARNING : FLUFF, flirting, makes you wish you really have a neighbor as cute as him!

ENJOY!

The loud voice of heavy furniture moved around through the hallway irks you on a beautiful Saturday morning.

You close your eyes and ears with annoyance as you internally curse your new neighbor for moving in on a weekend. Didn't they understand that you need a good week end sleep to survive another endless lecture of chemistry?!

You never realize the walls of your apartment is that thin that you could basically listen everything happening around you.

After trying your best to bury your ears into the pillows, you can return back to your sleep. Thankfully, you're the type who can continue a sleep whenever you feel like it.

You make a mental note to maybe ironically tell them how your morning is beautiful with their loud moving in session.

However, turns out that never happens! Guess what? The new noisy neighbor moving into the room across yours, is hella cute!

You did not see him that noon, when you go out of your room to buy lunch. You shrug it off, thinking maybe tomorrow morning you'll get to see him and greet him. You ponder on what to prepare, but decided you'll not give them anything since they ruined your morning.

That night, you once again have to control yourself from not banging on the door to tell whoever is playing guitar that loud in the middle of the night. It's almost ten at night and the loud laughs and guitar could still be heard from your room.

It's not like you’re a party pooper, just that you kind of want them to at least tune it down a bit. But the good thing is they sound good! Like their choice of music and their singing are not disruptive.

The last song before you really fall asleep happens to be a fingerstyle so perfectly arranged. You shot your eyes open when you realize the pattern that neighbor is playing. Quickly you grab your guitar, pencil, and a paper. You press your ears to the walls trying your best to catch the now slow melody.

“Louder please! I love the melody and i'm dying to keep it in my mind…” you hopelessly whisper to the wall. Hoping to hear more of the masterpiece.

You failed though, you laughed at yourself for thinking you could catch the whole song, but in the last part the melody turned sad and blue … then it slowed down and you cannot hear anything else.

You sit down, mind now super wide awake! With gritted teeth you reach for your guitar, read the scribbles you made earlier and you quickly try to play the song.

It’s perfect and you definitely will look for it online! Why haven't you heard of this song at all?!

You try to resume the song, trying to find notes that can follow the piece and fit perfectly with the other ear pleasing voice.

Your brain works hard and drive you to sleep on the bed after leaving the guitar and notes on the living room table.

You never sleep that peaceful and well by yourself. You believe it was thanks to the music your neighbor played.

>>>>>>Sunday morning<<<<<<<

A constant bell on your door halts you from stirring your coffee.

“Coming" you yell and take a glance to the intercom.

There stood a breath-taking man on his messy hair and oversize sweater.

You check yourself on the mirror, thanking yourself for taking a bath already.

With a fluttering heart you open the door.

“Morning!” you greet him first. The boy looks a bit shy and sweet. Oh you love the way his eyes look into yours bashfully.

Though his body is bigger than yours, you see him as a precious small squishy.

“You're my new neighbor I believe?” you question.

He nods “As a matter of fact, yes! My name is Taeyong… I am sorry if I just come to see you today. Yesterday I was a bit busy configuring my room and putting on the things.

“No problem, name is (y/n) nice to meet you!” you shake his hand and smile liking how your hand fits in his.

“Have you done everything or do you need help?” your friendly manner naturally jumps out.

He smiles and relaxes a bit when he notes you're not the annoying neighbor.

“Oh thank you, but the boys helped me up yesterday and i'm done with cleaning too.” He scratches his neck.

You nod and laugh at yourself, how can you forget the loud noises last night.. of course they were from the squad.

“Well then, anything I can help?” you ask for you feel like he's hesitating to tell you something.

Bulls eye, he sighs in relief.

“I know I might sound so rude, but do you have eggs where I can borrow? I haven't gone grocery shopping and like I want a proper breakfast. The only thing I have is sodas!” he gestures a “mind blown" hand over his head and chuckles.

You laugh at his witty remark and you step aside from the door.

“Please sit down as I take out the eggs.”

He politely makes his way to your tidy apartment and takes a good scan over the comfortable living space.

“Your house … it's pretty…” he gasps “like you.” He whispers so low… you didn't catch them.

“How many eggs do you need?” You stand in front of your refrigerator wondering if you should just dump all of your week supply to this cute boy or not.

“How much do you need for a pancake?” he pops into your pantry now with his tidy hair, guess he monitors himself from the mirror.

“That'll be two… do you have the other ingredients?” you take out two large eggs and place them on a small bowl.

“Well yeah I have the milk and flour… guess i'll find my way to my kitchen.” He receives the bowl from you.

You shoot him a challenging look, “You never make pancakes don't you?”

He shrugs his shoulder, “There's always a first time for everything right? Want to help me explain briefly?”

Smooth jesus he's flirting with you like it was elementary.

The next ten minutes, you're explaining him what he should do and believe it or not this cute boy is just staring at you with hearts in his eyes.

“Umm Tae? You sure you get everything? You did not take notes!” you roll your eyes when the young man just taps his head.

“Let me try maybe i'll burn my kitchen or you could come and join me .. i'm sure seeing you do it will be a nicer way for me to learn.” He playfully winks and you feel your cheeks heating.

Ten minutes later you're already in his tidy apartment. It's majority designed with abstract theme and you see the boldness striking on every art piece he made.

You help him making his first pancakes and after the thirty minutes preparation, you're finally sitting on his new dining chairs.

Nice set of plates and cutleries are arranged over the smooth table. Two glasses of fresh apple juice greet you, he’s definitely lying when he said he only has sodas!

That refrigerator has some salad dressings, milks, and okay water…

You two learn and talk about each other over a good breakfast. There's only butter here and you brought your maple syrup along luckily. Underneath your table, his best friend dog companion, Ruby is eating her breakfast gently while listening to the two of you converse.

You soon learn he is also a senior like you, but you're from the school across his. Yes the two of you came to different universities that happen to be great rivals! Funny how he could stay quiet despite the numerous souvenirs of your school planted on your room. Come to think of it you also just realized this room is also full of his school's merch!

Imagine if your friend or his friend sees the two of you casually eating breakfast and slipping flirts here and there!

After the scrumptious breakfast and warm first meeting, you thank him for the offer and go back to your home. Across his door, lies your door and behind that door.. the cute neighbor has just stole your heart and won your number.

The end! 💖

[i-am-just-a-kiddo]

rules: create your own post and tag 9 people to get to know better or catch up with

thank you for tagging me in this, @vishcount, eventhough we catch up every day basically 💞 i am tagging @cortue, @sassyassassy and @the-cloud-whisperer! no pressure in answering these questions to such detail, just do however you feel like. (ED) i’m sorry i forgot to tag @intyalote because i wish to know you better too! 

my ramblings under the cut: 

last song listened to:  Change (Feat. GRAY) (Prod. 코드 쿤스트 CODE KUNST) by Kid Millie

code kunst is one of my absolute favourite musical artists and i always discover new projects he was part of. this one is my recent favourite, i’ve just been listening to it up and down the past few weeks so my youtube shuffle automatically plays this.

last movie watched: The Yin Yang Master (2021) 

just like vishie, this was the last movie i watched and i think overall it was very fun? i found it very cute and entertaining in its world-building, as well as the visual design. also chen kun as qingming truly.....hits differently, wow. so it was hard to keep my cool about him because somehow he is way too stunning in my eyes. i also enjoyed the found family trope? it was very sweet. but as vishie noted too, the movie did not leave much place for the characters to develop properly so it would have deserved more time in that department. i was not that attached to any of them because the movie focused more on the plot happening than the character driven story. also funny how the yin yang master: dream of eternity was a wonderful gay feast while this movie just pulled the no homo card lol

currently reading: When The Light Of The World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through, A Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry (Ed. Joy Harjo, Leanne Howe, Jennifer Elise Foerster and more) 

i wished for this book for christmas and finally received it a few weeks ago. the past two years i’ve mostly been reading poetry (if you leave out readings for university) and i really want to educate myself on native cultures and their past. i think this is an amazing book that has a long introduction about its creation and the choices made on how the poems should be assembled. i love how so many different voices across geography, time and ages gets presented and i am excited to read more. apart from that, i am just waiting for uni taking up all my reading space again.

currently craving: a cold beer? 

since yesterday the weather has been so incredibly lovely and spring-like, i just want to go sit outside in the park or by the river and have a beer with someone. might do that tomorrow? i am feeling the holiday vibes. (also i am hungry so i should probably cook soon hmm)

current project: uni and fic ideas (and a fishtank?)

for uni i will need to hold a presentation about materiality in viennese modern designs during 1880-1930. i have this ceramic vessel by dagobert peche as my topic and i’m excited to dive into it because i am not well-versed in viennese art in general? and from what i’ve seen from his designs he took a lot of inspiration from japanese ceramics and chinese brush paintings which fits me past studies. also the question of materiality has never been the biggest focus in my studies so i am curious what will come of it, especially since our course leader wants to get us into the exhibition and hold the presentation in front of the actual object, which i have never done before (thanks covid).

i have some fic ideas which i want to get into but right now they are more vague concepts - i’ve been doing some research on korea during the 1880s-1890s for some very loosely dorian gray inspired au, but let’s see if this will take any reasonable shape. i’m also thinking about more wen ning & song lan content and maybe, possibly, some wen kexing character study? let’s see. am slowly getting back to writing and i am lowkey proud. 

and yes, i want to get a fishtank in our flat. i am so ready to have one again and my flatmates agreed so there is nothing standing in my way

current mood: tired but content

i overslept my first alarm today so i had a very stressful morning (it usually takes ages for me to get out of bed) and i did most of my first lecture but then decided to ditch it to hang out with my flatmates which was the best decision tbh. i also skipped the second lecture to hang out with them and go on a walk later to enjoy sunshine? so i think this day was very much successful on the social part. i even had ice cream. 

current wish: for my writing to return from war

i’ve lamented about this for the past few months on here, but it truly is weighing down my heart a lot. i just miss writing okay. i know i shouldn’t be hard on myself and accept that i need a break too, because indeed - i can’t force it and there is no need in beating myself up. but it still hurts because there is always something missing. i think the past two weeks i have been feeling a little bit more ready to return to it? though i truly need to be understanding with myself if it doesn’t work as i want it to. 

currently learning: materiality, persian book art and queer theory

as mentioned above, i have one course about materiality in arts, crafts and designs, focused on 1880-1930 vienna. i am also attending a lecture about persian book art from the 14th century onwards, though i have taken so many lectures with this professor already, i feel like he is repeating himself so much? i hope i will learn something new at least, so far it feels like i’m hearing the topics for the third time. and then i have a lecture about queer theory which is exactly my crowd - the people, the professor and the discussions give me so much and bring all these topics that i think about in my free time into a theoretical and scientific realm? so it’s nice to study these things in a systematic way - as systematic as it’s possible with a topic such as queer theory. this lecture just makes me feel seen and also allows me to get a broader sense of understanding how these studies developed.

something that makes you proud: my niemo oneshot  and my social activities

last week i wrote a short snippet for nie huaisang/mo xuanyu and it was the first time i had written in ages? so i feel very proud of it. and something i have been proud of lately is that i manage to be socially active a lot without feeling like all my energy has been sucked out of me? i am genuinly having fun being with people - of course it exhausts me a lot and i take breaks, but all in all it truly got easier socialising ever since i started taking my meds. my anxiety levels aren’t as high as they used to be and it helps me appreciate the presence of other people in a completely new way. this allows me not to feel like i am running away when i take time for myself. 

if you’ve read all of this, thank you! this was a fun little something 

[1oserjk]

— full stop | 01

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a series.

a messy divorce, unrequited feelings, and a five year old. 

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... ⇋ 02

x full stop masterlist | x masterlist 

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full stop | 01: he’s late

When you received the call that your daughter had been the last student in the school to be picked up, your heart slowed to a rate of disappointment - mainly to jungkook and to yourself for even trusting that he’d have his shit together far enough to be able to pick up his own daughter he barely managed to make time for. 

It was the third time this week for your ex husband to be late. At least for you, it wasn’t a surprise - he’s done this plenty of times during your marriage and even after, today being one of the prime examples of it. 

There’s a skip to your daughter’s step as she grapples onto your arm. Yeona is a bit clumsy with her walk but nevertheless giddy when she crosses the street with you. “Did you have a fun day today?” You excitedly ask. 

“Yeah!” She perks. “We painted with our fingers today!” Your nose scrunches in adoration when you hear the small lisp she accumulated from having the two of her front teeth she lost simultaneously two weeks ago. When you look down at her, the bright vest she fists tightly almost takes your eyes out completely. 

Lately, she’s been really obsessed with dressing herself in a monochromatic theme. Each day of the week was a new color. She claimed that she wanted to match the sun today when she practically busted through your bedroom - and with your groggy state, you managed to mumble out a questionable yes. And thus, became the bright yellow themed outfit she proudly wore that almost resembled a traffic cone. 

You gasp with feigned shock, “You did?” 

It only eggs her on to describe in full detail, “Yes! My teacher even complimented mine! Only mine!” 

“Really?” You reach out to slide a thumb over her soft cheek and you gush proudly, “My talented baby.” 

She bursts into giggles when you fully bend down to poke a few times at her tummy. Her small but strong arms do a great job at wrapping around your neck so she could smother her nose in your gentle scent. Your fingers massage at your scalp and drag all the way down through the length of her hair, deciding on the side that she’d need a trim soon from how long it’d been getting. 

When she finally reaches up for air, she giddily goes to tell you more. “I told Mrs. Kim that daddy was an artist too and she said that I’ll be able to take it home tomorrow so he could see. I want to show daddy what I made, can I?” 

Your throat constricts at the mention of her father and your eyes can’t help but widen. Fortunately, before she can notice the shift in your emotions, everything slowly loosens when you catch her hopeful expression. 

Brushing through her hair one last time, you assure, “Sweetie, it’s always okay to show daddy. You know he loves you, right?” 

“I know,” she smiles thoroughly. “I love him too.” 

You give her a big kiss on the cheek, “I’m glad, baby.” Pointing to the car, you prompt, “Why don’t we go home now? Your tablet is inside.” She brightens at that, slipping herself inside of the back of the car. 

When you finally get yourself situated inside with the air conditioning pumped up and the radio playing mindlessly in the background, you get a call. 

You eye the mirror above your head to cautiously watch your daughter. Being too absorbed in whatever toy unboxing video she watched, you doubted she’d pay any mind to your beckoning conversation with Jungkook. 

So you answer with a sigh, “Hey.” 

“I know I’m late,” he starts. “And I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“You’ve said the exact same thing the two other times this week, Jungkook,” you exhaustedly remind. “All I ask from you is to be present enough to pick her up towards the end of the week.”

“I know,” he sighs in regret. “I know, and I promise-“ 

“Look,” you interrupt. “Stop by my place and we can talk about it there. I can’t keep arguing over the phone, not when she’s here.” 

“Yeah,” he quickly agrees. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

-

You stare up at your ex husband, long locks that were close to caressing the top of his cheekbones with a tattooed arm and knuckles. 

Even with all of the intimidating piercings and dark clothing he carried himself with, Jeon Jungkook looks the same as the last time he stopped by to visit: young and boyish. And it seemed to be two characteristics you deemed as hard to get rid of, not when he looked this good.

Your hand tightens immediately around the knob when you meet eyes. 

“Hey,” he breathes out. 

“Hi,” you quietly manage to say back. 

“Can I..” He looks around some more, asking for entrance. Opening the door wide enough to get his bulky body in, you shuffle behind it, “Go ahead.” 

He strides to the couch, “Is Yeonie here?” 

Your arms crossed protectively against your chest while you trail behind him. “Yeah. She’s taking a nap, though.” 

His expression drops disappointedly, “That’s too bad, I’ve missed her.” 

You laugh fakely at that, “Enough to miss three days of perfectly fine time to spend with her? That’s rich.” 

His eyes close to blink harshly a few times, “_____..” 

“If no one says anything eventually, I don’t even think you’d be able to get it.” 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again. “It’s been crazy with my schedule.” 

You scoff, “And you don’t think mine isn’t?” 

He stares back with guilt. 

“I’m a nurse, Jungkook. I can’t keep requesting to leave so early when my shifts just started! All of my colleagues look at me like I’m a kicked puppy when all I want to do is scream that I have a perfectly good father for Yeona, but I can’t,” your voice wavers. “Because you’re not there to prove it.” 

He sighs with a shuddering breath, resting his forearms against his thighs and dropping his head forward. “I’m sorry.” 

Running a hand through your hair, your other catches the cushion behind you when you lean back tiredly. 

“You know,” you begin slowly. “She finger painted today.” 

He looks up with softened eyes, “She did?” 

You nod. “She’s waiting to finish tomorrow so she could show you - even bragged about how you were an artist.” Your eyes can’t help but loom down to his arms and each design you used to kiss down on, now they sit there, glaring instead of holding any welcoming values - like it wasn’t your home anymore - and they were right, it wasn’t. 

He chuckles lowly. “That’s my girl.”

“Jungkook..” You whisper. His eyes shot up, almost with a hopeful expression, begging for you to say something about you - anything. He hasn’t had much of a chance to ask about how you were doing these days, he doubts you’d open up enough to even give him the chance. Everything had shifted now. Things were different. “She misses you.” 

“I - I miss her too.” Then, he buries his face in the palms of his hands, cursing at himself for being bad at the one job he had for himself: to be a good father. “_____, I miss her so damn much,” he manages to confess out to you and your heart starts to drag heavy. You knew fully well on how much Jungkook liked to pick at his mistakes. He wouldn’t let go until he knew he’s done morally right to prove it. 

“Hey..” You lead a hand up to his shoulder and you press down comfortingly. “I know your sad about not being there, and I know I’ve given you a hard time about it - but I’ll always forgive you.” 

That was the thing. You’ve always forgiven him. Every single time he managed to fuck up in any sort of way, after all of the yelling, the lecture, and the tension - you still gave him the chance to try again. 

He slowly picks his head up from out of his hands and he can’t help but lean more into your touch. Your thumb was unconsciously rubbing to ease the tension in his shoulders and you don’t stop until he’s given you a look you can’t decipher. Whatever it was, it was too weird for you to stay like that. 

Your throat clears, “Stay for dinner?” 

His forehead creases as his eyebrows furrow, “I - Huh?” 

You’re confused also, as if your reasoning for the offer wasn’t obvious, “Don’t you want to see Yeonie now?” 

It felt like cold water had slapped him in the face, bringing him back to reality that you weren’t inviting him for yourself, but he’d take the chance anyway, “Oh - Oh! Yeah, of course.” 

You stare oddly when you slowly stretch your legs to stand up, “Why don’t you stay here while I wake her up..” 

He’s quick to stand with you, “Actually - Uh - I was wondering if I could come with? If I could wake her up too..?” 

You blink. “Oh, sure! It’s - Er - This way,” as if he doesn’t know the layout of the house he used to live in, of course he knew where his daughter’s room was. 

You rush up the stairs with reddened cheeks, something you were glad Jungkook couldn’t see. 

The bright white LED lights blink at her door with the words Yeona written across a painted board Jungkook had the chance of designing. You personally asked him to. 

When the door is opened up, you’re both met with the same room Yeona loved to call her own. Especially when daddy took a big part of it. 

“Same as always,” you whisper to him. 

The bedroom is painted in all white, except for one particular wall she saved for her father. He stares at the wall opposite from her bed that was painted all up in flowers. 

His footsteps are quiet when he lands himself on the other side of the room, tracing his fingers across the lines of some of the lilies and roses. All different types of breeds of flowers take up the whole wall, being approved by the princess herself of course when Jungkook presented her a book full of them, letting her choose to her desire on all of the flowers she wanted shown. 

However, there was a spot saved for you. A small part of a cherry blossom tree was drawn delicately on the left corner where the window had the chance of letting sun shine through it, as if it’d become real enough to sprout through the walls and outside if anybody had the imagination to believe in it enough. Actually, you had drawn it after one time he found sketch papers full of soft colorings of it on his desk, claiming yourself that it was the only thing you were decent at drawing at. 

You lacked in knowledge to realize that the time that you were together with Jungkook, he saved a corner of the room for you to blossom in by your own fingers. 

“I don’t think she’ll ever grow out of this room,” you let out a small laugh, “she loves it too much.” 

“I’m glad,” he says with a smile turned to you. You curse the way your heart picks up all over again. “Though I might have to come back some time to retrace some of the lines — they’re fading.” They weren’t, but it’d be a good enough excuse for him to come by again. 

“I think she’d like that.” You weren’t sure if you were speaking more for yourself or for you daughter. “Even better if she could help.” 

“Oh, definitely,” he’s quick to say. “With those talented little hands of hers made with my DNA? Definitely.” 

You snort, “She’s mine too, you dork.” 

He knew that very well too, every single time he looked into the eyes of Yeona, he saw you. 

“Yeah,” he stares. “She is.” 

You deliver the same intensity back and managed to get lost in some of the depth of his orbs, falling back in the state you hated to be in. You couldn’t help it. At least, not right now. 

“Mommy?” A small voice calls out, and you rip yourself away from his gaze, letting your eyes fall back to your groggy daughter. You both go to rush in to the shriveled sheets and the small frazzled body. 

You can’t help but giggle seeing most of her hair stick up just from a small little nap and go to brush it down for her sake. She smacks her lips tiredly, not even noticing the tall figure standing right beside you. 

Finally, her eyes go to open and she stares for a few seconds before widening. 

“Is it my birthday?” 

It’s silent before Jungkook bursts into chuckles. 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” You laugh, cradling her closely to your chest. “Daddy is just here for dinner.” 

She’s still confused, “So it is my birthday?” 

You cackle, “Sweetie, no. He’s just here for a visit. Right, Daddy?” 

Your head tunes up and you find Jungkook with wide eyes. You tilt your head curiously until you gasp in sudden realization. 

You’ve just called your ex-husband, Daddy. 

Sure, you’ll indirectly name Jungkook as “daddy” a few times but never ever have you ever gone out of your way to call him it directly. This was new to both of you. 

Clearing your throat, you pinch at the side of his thigh until he hisses, “Right?” 

“Ah! - Y-Yes baby, I’m here. Daddy’s here,” he adds to push annoyingly and if it weren’t for the five year old clinging onto you so tightly, you would’ve kicked at his ankle harshly. 

“So why don’t you tell da-“ Your throat automatically clears when you manage to catch yourself and he snickers. “Dad all about your day while I go and look at what we have that I can cook, okay?” 

She nods eagerly. 

Before you can even reach out the door, you hear Yeona call excitedly, “Daddy, I’ve missed you!” When you turn, you find her whole body wrapped around one of his legs. 

You look one last time with a smile while he settles her back onto the bed to deliver tickles and kisses.

You’ve missed this. 

-

After dinner, the couch was quickly occupied by the two who pleaded to watch a movie to make Jungkook’s stay a little longer. However, you didn’t join the movie time Jungkook suddenly offered. Your plan was to stay behind and clean up while they spent some more time together. After, you’d stay in your room until they finished. 

Jungkook didn’t allow any of that, patting the spot next to him for you to come sit with. You hesitated with arms that hugged yourself protectively. 

Shaking your head, you give him a polite smile while it only furthers the confusion for him, “I better go clean.” 

Quickly rushing to the kitchen, you make a good effort at scrubbing aggressively on the dishes that were left out. 

It took you a year to finally get over him, to convince yourself that your divorce was the right thing to do, but every time you land yourself in a situation that involves him, your feelings completely revert back to your younger and oblivious self. 

Even all the way from today, he still continues to make mistakes somehow and in some frustrating way. 

In all honesty, You could’ve made it harder on him, put some boundaries and leave him wallowing in his own guilt, however he was Yeona’s father, the absolute light of her life. You wouldn't dare take that away from her. 

You didn’t have the time or ability to be selfish in this situation. So you’d do what you do everyday, letting him completely bombard your life with the sole thought of the both of you - together. 

It was close to nine when Yeona felt drowsy. She waited until the movie credits rolled before she allowed herself to close her eyes, which was perfect since it was close to her bedtime anyway. 

He calls your name when he doesn’t find you at first, searching through your bedroom. 

“In here!” Your voice muffled between the walls. 

He has to walk a little further towards your walk-in closet to find you sitting on the ground, feet tucked underneath you, putting away the clothes you’ve just folded. You’ve slipped on something more comfortable during the time of your own, a simple hoodie that was most likely three times larger than you that reached just the tops of your thighs. His eyes narrow on the back, a stubborn stain he remembers putting on the hoodie he coincidentally left here. Whatever it was, he doesn’t mention it. You looked too good in it to disrupt the fact that it was his. He doesn’t mind anyway. 

His dense boots clunk on the surface as he lets out an airy laugh, “She’s knocked out.”

Your back twists to face his towering form who leans close to the door. 

“Oh, I should bring her up.” A hand stops you from getting up. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “She’s already in her room.” 

“Oh,” you slump back down. “She must’ve been clinging onto you, huh.” 

He chuckles again, “Yeah, she was practically wrapped around my hip.”

Your eyes crinkle when you let out a soft laugh, and for some reason, it takes some of the weight off his shoulders. 

“I wrapped up some of the stew we had tonight for you to take back.” 

“There was a lot of leftovers though? I’m not sure if I could finish-“ 

You tsk, “It’s for you and the boys. It’s enough food for everybody in the shop.” 

There’s a twinkle in his eye. Always so selfless, taking care of everybody without even realizing it. You didn’t have to make dinner for him tonight. You didn’t have to let him stay here. You didn’t have to pack everything up for him and his friends. You didn’t have to do anything, Yet you did everything. 

“I’m glad you came,” you say honestly, interrupting his loaded thoughts of how angelic you truly were, and if Yoongi were here, he’d smack him behind the head for being so stupid in losing someone like you. “She likes it when you come.” 

His hands dig into his pockets and he rubs at his fingers unconsciously in a nervous manner, “I - uh - Then I should come by more often.” 

Shrugging you pick up a shirt to fold. Neatly, your hands are quick with the piece and it stirs something within him. For two reasons actually. The domesticity and feeling — but also for the fact that Jungkook went crazy about laundry, weirdly enough. You did everything right. 

“You’re welcome anytime - You’ve always been.”

His heart goes erratic. Why was it so easy for you to say such things like that? 

“I was actually planning to ask why you didn’t join us for the movie - Yeona would’ve liked it.” 

It takes you a while to answer. Standing with a huge bundle of Yeona’s clothes to set on the bed to put away for later, you walk further into the room while Jungkook meekly follows. You huff tiredly when they’re all laid out. When you meet eyes with Jungkook who waits patiently, your cheeks puff out. “I just - I don’t want to give her any ideas — about us.” 

“Oh,” is all he says with downcast eyes. 

“Yeah, it’s better after what we put her through when we said we’d be divorcing - you know? It’s just better for all of us so things don’t get messy and she doesn’t assume anything crazy, like we’d get back together or something.” 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. He hated the way you said it, absolutely despised it. Like it’d be impossible — but was it? 

He tentatively takes a look around, spotting any changes you might’ve made ever since he moved out. You’ve changed the bed sheets and curtain colors, but you’ve always done that when the seasons changed. There’s a candle being burned on top of the nightstand that used to be his. He remembers a time when you’d specifically let him know that the other side was definitely yours. But oddly enough, there’s more pillows on where he used to lay. 

You’d never let him know that it was only a lame way to mimic some warmth on the other side. Hence the stupid candles and pillows. In short, you were lonely and touch deprived. 

Rubbing up your own sides, you prompt, “Anyway, you should go home now. It’s getting late.” 

Checking the watch that adorned his wrist, it was indeed. He needed to head back before the tattoo shop closed to finish some of his sketches that needed to be done this week. 

“Yeah, I - uh - I guess I’ll see you soon?” 

You smile, “Definitely.” 

“Well then.. Have a good night.” 

No goodbye kiss, no hug, and no confessions to be made. It was simply, real life. Unfortunately so. 

“Goodnight, Jungkook.” 

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pls give this couple lotz o love. they r dumb n clueless but aren’t we all.

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[danganronpastories]

A day with his boyfriends

( I made this for @kathuichithouda, go to their blog, appreciate them. I hope you enjoy it) The sun was setting over the bright sky, the air cool and waving Fuyuhikos black tie around in the gentle wind. He sighed, walking on the sidewalks, his shoes clomp clomping on the pavement. He looked down at his phone and smiled. His background was a photo he took with his boyfriends. Kazuichi was the one holding the camera, grinning with his shark teeth in full view. Fuyuhiko was in the middle, making a small smile for the picture. Gundham was at the far side, Kazuichi having pulled him in so his face was more surprised then the other two.  Fuyuhiko was finally off from work for the weekend and he was excited to see his boyfriends at home. He walked up to his door, their house was moderately sized. Fuyuhiko wanted to get a bigger house for his boyfriends but both of them disagreed. Gundham and Kazuichi had both been brought up in poorer neighborhoods, they had agreed that they wouldn’t be comfortable in a richer house so they got a nice decent house big enough for the three of them, along with all their jobs.  As soon as he got in he smelled the faint scent of pumpkin spice candles. Definitely Gundhams work. Fuyuhiko took off his shoes, placing them inside the shiny metal shoe rack. He walked in and looked around, the house was spotless. The dishes were washed and put away, the counters were scrubbed, the oven was shiny, the table was cleaned and decorated with Halloween decorations, the floors were spotless and the couches cushions were on the couch in a decorative fashion. “Jeez Gundham, have you been working all day” Fuyuhiko sighed, a bit worried, Gundham along with everyone in this relationship did tend to overwork himself. Gundham was the one who had lived on his own the longest. With his mom dying at 11 and his family booting him out only a month later. Gundham had to rent a home and make his own living since then, which was his breeding and animal conservationist job. Because of that Gundham was the one who knew the most about cleaning and cooking and keeping a house. “Ahh, Luna come back, you need a bath!” Fuyuhiko perked up at the voice, it was deep and silky, one of his two most favorite voices in the world. A black Labrador puppy came barreling at him, all legs and puppy smiles. Fuyuhiko laughed, picking up the little pup as she licked at his face. Gundham turned the corner, “ah, Fuyuhiko you’re home!” Gundham said joyfully, running up to him. Gundham was in a black band t-shirt, black sweatpants, his bandages, and some bracelets. “It’s nice to see you my dear over lord of ice” Fuyuhiko chuckled, “i’ve noticed the house is very very clean, is that your doing?”. Gundham chuckled, pulling on the ends of his purple scarf. “Yes, our darling inventor of machines has been holed up in his garage all day. I’ve been bringing him meals and cleaning our lair, along with tending to my demon beasts.” Gundham explained, putting Luna down from Fuyuhikos arms. Fuyuhiko shook his head, “Damn babe, I always think you’re fucking exaggerating when you say you’re a busybody. Then at moments like this I’m reminded that you can run around for hours.” Fuyuhiko lectured, starting to reach his hand up to the side of Gundhams head. Fuyuhiko paused, before Gundham nodded. Fuyuhiko started to run his hand through Gundhams hair, his black and white hair was down so it is easier to pet and play with. Gundham eyelids drooped, leaning into Fuyuhikos hand, swaying a bit on his feet. Fuyuhiko smirked and looped his other arm around Gundhams back, lowering him down slightly.  Gundhams head slowly fell down to Fuyuhikos shoulders, closing his eyes and nuzzling into the crook of Fuyuhikos neck. Fuyuhiko chuckled, a breathy laugh with tones of pure affection. “You go upstairs, i’ll be back with Kazuichi. I think we all deserve a break” Fuyuhiko softly murmured into Gundhams ear, “You must be tired, just take a break angel, we can all watch movies and be together”. Gundham nodded and got up lazily, stretching, eyes fluttering a bit. “Yes my handsome ball of fire, I think it’s time for a break. I’ll meet you and our darling inventor of machines up in our main chambers.” Gundham spoke in his extravagant tone, sauntering up the stairs with a smile wave. Fuyuhiko huffed, smiling and shaking his head. Fuyuhiko walked casually into the garage attached to the building, it was full of metal contraptions and junk. Fuyuhiko jumped over some metal junk lying on the floor, making a note to remind Kaz to clean up tomorrow. Fuyuhiko walked up behind his boyfriend, who was hunched over the desk, hammering nails into something. “Hey, Kaz. You’ve been working on this fucking contraption all day?” Fuyuhiko asked, finally addressing the pink haired man in the room. “KAHHHHHHHHH!!” Kazuichi screamed, whirling back, launching the hammer, away it flew gracefully..........before smashing a window. Fuyuhiko, who thanked whatever higher power was up there, threw himself to the concrete floor to dodge the hammer time attack. “Holy Fuck! Kaz baby, honey it’s just me, you’re ok.” Fuyuhiko stammered out, mildly shaken up while getting up. Kazuichi was shaking, slowly lowering his hand that had thrown the hammer at mach speeds. “F-fuyuhiko, i’m sorry, I didn’t see you there” Kazuichi stuttered. Fuyuhiko shook his head, “It was my fault, anyway, I’m here to take you away from your work. me, you and Gundham are all gonna take a break and watch some movies.” Fuyuhiko explained, moving a bit closer to take Kazuichis hand. “aww do I have to, I’ve got so much work.” Kaz complained, stamping his foot a bit. Fuyuhiko stood up on his toes, wrapping his arms gently around Kazuichis neck, Kazuichi leaned down. “Yes my love, we’re all gonna take a break, we deserve it” Fuyuhiko huffed, “Now come down here and kiss me, you bubblegum fuck. Kazuichi kissed Fuyuhiko, with dry lips wetted with his tongue. Fuyuhiko ran his hand through Kazuichis cotten candy hair, loving the feeling of the braids between his hands, though it was grossly greasy. Fuyuhiko pulled away, going off his tip toes, “Damn babe, take a shower before you come to bed” Fuyuhiko laughed. Kaz pouted, “But...”, Fuyuhiko frowned, crossing his arms and staring a hole through the oily man. Kazuichi pouted, his shoulders deflating, “fine....” he relented, going to walk upstairs. They both made it to their room and Fuyuhiko sat with Gundham on their king sized mattress with its warm comforter. Fuyuhiko changed into a brown tank top and black shorts. Gundham looked up to Fuyuhiko from the hardcover book he was reading. Gundham lightly blushed, pink dusting his cheeks. Fuyuhiko laughed, stretching for him, “You liking the view, overlord of ice” Fuyuhiko said, smirking, he was so enjoying this. Gundham blushed, but because he didn’t have his scarf on he just looked away. Fuyuhiko moved closer, smirking. “You don’t look so bad yourself Gundham” Fuyuhiko said, flirting. Gundham was in a black tank top with a star right under the left strap, and pajama pants, with a red and white plaid design. Gundham blushed, a small smile gracing his face. Gundham took a breath, leaning in closer. Fuyuhiko smiled and kissed Gundham. Gundham closed his eyes, leaning in and relaxing. Fuyuhiko pulled away, breathing in. “I love you” Fuyuhiko murmured, “I love you too.” Gundham whispered. They both went back to their original sitting position, turning on a movie. Kazuichi stepped out of the bedrooms private bathroom in a pink t-shirt and green shorts. “Kaz, my darling, you look like a neon marker” Gundham said playfully. “Hey!!” Kazuichi shouted, walking over and sitting on Gundhams right side. “I was only joking inventor of machines” Gundham told him, kissing Kazuichis cheek. Kazuichi laughed, leaning into Gundhams side. The three watched movies for about 2 hours but soon enough they got tired. Gundham lied down first, almost having fallen asleep sitting up at this point. Kazuichi laughed, lying down cuddled up to his side. Gundham put an arm around the man, pulling him closer. Fuyuhiko smiled, turning the tv off. “alright, it’s bedtime.” Fuyuhiko whispered. He kissed them both on the foreheads, both of them already half asleep. “Goodnight my loves, I’ll see you in the morning” Fuyuhiko uttered to them, lying down curled up in Gundham left arm. The three of them slumbered together in peace.

[tsumtsum-into-omiomi]

CHAPTER TWO: HISTORY 101

warning(s): cursing

word count: 1.4k

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"What if... I told you all that practitioners like us used to be able to roam the earth as we wished?" Atsumu starts, a smug look on his face as if he is about to reveal a huge secret. Osamu, who is sitting behind the class computer to control their slide show, rolls his eyes. He hates it when Atsumu presents because he tends to act overly dramatic.

 "They're able to be found anywhere in Japan, and even though they're a minority, practitioners and non-practitioners lived in harmony together. They're accepted and even trusted to govern states alongside non-practitioners; taking on important roles as ministers and such. Sounds pretty sweet, right?"

 Atsumu then pauses for a second to cue Osamu to move on to the next slide. The screen flickers, now projecting six pictures of professional looking men and women in suits with their names underneath, "these people are examples of distinguished figures who made sure our law and order were in place so that the peace between practitioners and non-practitioners was kept in check when they lived together. They drafted the constitution that we are still using to this day."

 "This woman," Atsumu points to one of the pictures on his slide, "Ota Shiori, was the person who campaigned for the famous safety law to be sanctioned. It was designed to protect non-practitioners from unlawful usage of magic on them. She truly believed that, in no circumstances should they feel threatened by the power that they were not blessed with. And the practitioners were cautious about this matter. They made sure not to hurt anyone with their magic."

 "However, circa 1850s, non-practitioners began a purging movement, fueled by a rising political party, called Chōwa, who wanted to be in power," Atsumu gestures to Osamu. He taps on the keyboard and the slide changes. There are pictures of protests and violent acts on the screen, assumed to be inflicted on practitioners. Low murmurs and soft gasps can be heard filling the lecture hall. There is tension in the air.

 "To them," Atsumu continues, riding on the mood of the class and using a serious tone, "for as long as practitioners were living among non-practitioners, they would not be able to hold absolute administration because they thought we could topple them down with our magic anytime. That scared them a lot."

 Osamu then stands up to continue where Atsumu left off, "the purge had forced magic practitioners to move and live in isolation, away from others, just to ensure their safety," but unlike Atsumu, his voice is indifferent. He has a mind map displayed and it shows a list of town names. "They began to find new lands to start fresh and due to their small numbers, the community was scattered all over the country. They built small towns where they could live amongst their own people and keep to themselves to stay out of trouble.”

 Osamu points to the screen, “these are the magic towns established over the years that we know of, including ours; Taishi. It is the only town in Hyōgo which houses magic practitioners since the year 1957, a settlement where we can exercise spells freely and a place called home for us to live in peace. Fun fact; Tokyo is the only prefecture that has more than one magic town," Osamu appears dead panned, making it very hard for the audience to be convinced that it is, indeed, a fun fact.

 He taps on the keyboard again. This time, the Hyōgo prefecture's map is presented beside a picture of three men in suits standing side by side.

 "However, it is also important to note that there are people out there who do not share Chōwa's sentiment towards the magic community and are accepting of us," he informs, "our small town has its secret hold hidden by the cities of Tatsuno and Himeji. They envelop and give us the protection that we need from being exposed to the rest of the world. It's an agreement they made decades ago with us, even before the name Taishi came to exist, to repay the practitioners for helping them during the age of wars. These three men, Mori Daigo, Abe Genta and Ikeda Hide, were the leaders back then who came up with the peace treaty that is still in effect up until today."

 "Here are some interesting facts on Taishi," Osamu skips to the following slide, "we have a population of around thirty thousand. Our school, Inarizaki, was founded by Abe Genta. The famous Kudo Street was named after Kudo Kazuki, the first practitioner who built our town. Kudo Street gains its popularity as a place to get magical supplies in the 70s..."

 "Gosh, interesting facts?" you whisper to your friend beside you. The two of you are sitting at the far back of the hall, "his face doesn't reflect it at all. Appear a bit more enthusiastic, man."

 Suna yawns, "as if he gives a shit."

 "I'm hungry," you huff.

 "If we hadn't joined this class for fun, we would already be eating right now," Suna side-eyes you.

 "Hey, you also thought it's a fun idea to see the twins present!" you jeer back. "And in case you forgot, we can leave anytime. We're literally sitting beside the door."

 "Nah, let's ask the presenters some mind-boggling questions while we're already here," Suna waves his hand lazily.

 "See, isn't this a better way to spend our free period?" you smirk.

 Suna grins back at you, "go do your work, Satan."

 "Any questions?" Atsumu implores to the class. The two of you sit straight and draw your attention back to the front after realising that the presentation is over.

 You see no hands raised. Nice, an impassive class; the perfect audience. You put your hand up, catching Atsumu's eyes. He points at you with a smile, "yes, at the back there?"

 However, his smile vanishes instantly when you stand up, finally taking notice of you and Suna, who are intruding the class. He glares at you as a warning.

 "I have some questions," you announce, ignoring the invisible daggers he's throwing at you, "aren't you two fifth year students? Why did you choose basic history to present on? Weren't there any other challenging topics that you could've tackled on?"

 Atsumu seems like he's about to break the pen he's holding into half while Osamu scratches his temple with his middle finger, a quiet "fuck you" for you. You and Suna stifle some giggles at their reactions as you plop back into your seat.

 The History teacher clears his throat, "answer the question, Miya. I was wondering the same thing too. I know I said you're free to choose what to present on, but isn't yours very... elementary? Even though this is an entry level History class, I expected more since you're seniors."

 "Aw man," Suna chortles, "if they fail this class again... you're a part of the reason."

 "Nah, Morita-sensei will let them pass this time," you respond, "I don't think he wants to see them again next year for the third time."

 "Lol, imagine having to take an entry level History course  three times in the span of six years at this school."

 "Hm, maybe it's something only the twins can achieve."

 "Look at him spewing bullshit," Suna snickers at Atsumu, who is trying to justify his and Osamu's presentation topic to his best ability.

 "His expertise anyway," you scoff, not even paying attention to what Atsumu is saying.

 Suna nods in agreement, “I feel bad but I’m really enjoying this.”

 “They’re gonna be so pissed off,” you cackle.

 "Any more questions?" Atsumu addresses the whole class.

 "Oh shit, my turn," Suna raises a hand up.

 "Don't let Morita-sensei see you or we'll get kicked out," you remind him in a low voice. Suna only stands up half of his height, hiding from Morita's view behind the rows of students sitting in front of him.

 Once Atsumu catches his raised hand and makes eye contact with Suna, he mouthes a "fuck you" at him. Unfortunately, he doesn't really have a choice other than answering, "yes?"

 "Do you know if the samurai practised magic?"

 A snort escapes from you upon hearing Suna’s question. You then see a text come in from Osamu, who must’ve sent it from behind the computer while everyone was paying attention to Suna just now. It says "I'm gonna feed you two shit tomorrow". You almost lose it seeing how pressed Osamu is right now— it’s a rare sight. You reply with “sounds good 😋” to him and he sends a middle finger emoji back.

 Ah, what better way to enjoy the trivial life as a student other than being a pain in your brothers’ asses?

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Thank you for reading till the end!! World building is my passion LMAO jk it's super hard I love creating it but writing it?? Phew... Anyway, this is just to give context of the AU they're in!! Hope it gave you a good idea!