#i do enjoy chopin but that is besides the point

[jonathan-samuel-smith]

The idea that Damian Wayne only listens to white 18th century European musicians ("classical music" literally who decided what to archive and promote from that period?? White people. Why would he focus on that music he's not even from the west?) and believes their music to be superior is either wrong or using a very sad representation on the impact of white supremacy on his life and I will not stand for it. Miss me with that headcanon.

My boy does love music though. He is not ikari shinji however.

[my-lord-khonshu]

Moonlight Kissed

Time for even MORE angst and backstory (no smut in this one). I promise I will write fluff and smut to compensate for this when I get back from my trip.

ALLL THE THANKS IN THE WORLD TO @crispychrissy for her translations!

Pairing: Khonshu x f!Reader

Trigger warning for suicide ideation.

This takes place in late September between Swallow’s Flight (summer) and Hidden Feelings (end of December). 

Your university wants to put on a showcase for the potential incoming students, but you unfortunately forgot to buy a dress for the occasion. Khonshu can help.

Fall was your favourite season. You liked to walk around your university campus, noticing the changes in the leaves as the trees shifted from emerald to hues of red, orange, and yellow. Another plus was that the temperature was just right for cozying up with a soft sweater hugging your body.

You were looking over your sheet music while sitting on out on your balcony. The Faculty of Music wanted to host an open house for potential students, and they had asked you to perform.

“Play anything you want,” your teaching assistant had said. “I know you enjoy Chopin’s nocturnes, but you have such a lovely voice that I think something more modern could interest the teenagers.”

Your music taste was eclectic, and you tended to be fixated on one artist at a time, devouring their entire discography repeatedly until you caught every nuance of the production and the harmonies. You did listen to some pop music, but you were afraid that there would be a passionate “stan” in the audience that wouldn’t appreciate your interpretation of the work.

Better to stick to something a bit more obscure. You had picked out Poets of the Fall’s Moonlight Kissed, a piano driven song with beautiful lyrics. Piano would always be your first love. Sure, you were able to sing, but that was only because your first teacher had insisted that it would help your sense of pitch on the listening and playback portions of your exams.

You opened the keyboard app on your phone and played an E minor chord so you could tune yourself. You hummed up and down the E minor harmonic scale, followed by the E minor melodic scale.

The performance was this evening, so you wanted to get one last acapella practice in to make sure you knew what you were singing. You could play the accompaniment with your eyes closed at this point, so you were more concerned about your voice.

“I see shadow and light

Stroking the mist

And I hear voices take flight

And send out our wish

Of peaceful dreams on a night

Moonlight kissed”

You tried to focus on telling the story of the words with the intonation of your voice. You wouldn’t have the full benefit of using your body language when singing because you would be sitting to play the piano during the performance.

“When-

Tendrils of smoke lash the street

And shamelessly court

Disguised honey sweet

To cater all sorts

And hushed tones all agree

And the world distorts”

Your voice grew in a crescendo as you reached the bridge of the song and your voice glided through a legato.

“Wishing on a speck of dust

In this crazy ocean of fate

An echo of a memory

And maybe just a little too late”

You frowned and went over the verse again, trying to hit the right tone on the word “just”. You tried a few times, but you weren’t sure if you were doing it justice. You were trying to hit a slight staccato on the word, but also giving the word some emphasis and care when you formed it.

“You are overthinking it, little swallow.” A voice called out from behind you.

Of course, Khonshu is around today. You sighed and replied to him without turning around.

“Khonshu, I really don’t have time for the commentary today. I don’t think music is your department anyway.”

“Perhaps not, but I have spent enough time with Hathor to know when someone has gained her favour,” he retorted. You heard him open the screen door of your balcony and walk out to stand beside you.

“You’re suggesting that another Egyptian god has taken interest in me? Wow, no wonder you are being nosy today; you must be jealous,” you joked.

He ignored your jab, but you could tell that the teasing that gotten to him, just a little bit.

“Do you know why I decided to call you “my swallow”?” he asked.

“Because you wanted to make a sex joke?” Your face went bright red as you realised you had actually said that out loud. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Swallows are a type of passerine bird, right?”

“Yes, and they move with grace in the air. Just like how your voice sounds graceful to me,” he explained.

Oh. Wow, you thought. Here I thought he only cared about whether I could fight or help those in need. You had no idea that he took interest in your mundane life.

It wasn’t much of a life when you had met him anyway. That night, you were unable to sleep and wandered the city. You took a bottle of wine from your apartment and were taking swigs of it as you walked. Your parents had been upset when you dropped out from a medical science major to apply for a transfer to the Faculty of Music.

They had threatened to cut you off. You had told them you would be fine with that. You had the money you inherited from your grandparents, who were the ones who raised you while your parents were too busy travelling the world for business. Mom and Dad already had your perfect older brother to keep them company.

“I can’t believe them,” you grumbled under your breath. “They bugged me about stopping playing piano when I went to university because I didn’t have the time, and now they’re mad that I had enough of a hyper-competitive program that I have no passion for and I want to go back to music?”

You didn’t want to admit it, but rejection hurt. You had always felt that you didn’t belong in your family. You were too “sensitive” for them. It’s why your dad had signed you up for boxing classes and mixed martial arts. To “toughen you up”. Unfortunately, they didn’t like it when you ended up using those skills on the bullies at school.

They totally deserved it though, you thought spitefully. There had always been a wall between you and other people. No matter how much you cared about a friend, they would always use you and leave. You were the one calling them up to try and find a time to hang out, never the other way around.

You had grown tired of seeing your friends leaving, so you decided to leave first. Friendship was overrated anyway. When you were in ninth grade, the bullies in high school saw you as a loner and a target, and thought you were easily exploited. They had thought wrong.

You hadn’t hurt them too badly. Just a few broken arms because they had tried to grab you after school. It was still enough to put your academic standing at risk and if you hadn’t been such a diligent student before then, they wouldn’t have let you off with a warning.

The worst time of your life was when you had found your first so-called “love”. You thought that he was a person that understood you, but he ended up preying on your insecurities about your family and about your inability to keep friends. He had managed to isolate you and convince you that you were nothing without him and it would be like winning the lottery for you to find someone else that loved you.

When you had found out he was cheating on you, he twisted everything so everyone you knew thought it was your fault. He said that you were insane and manipulative, which is why your relationship had been on and off for a while. He was so well liked in your social circles that everyone gave up on you then, and you swore that no one would ever take advantage of you like that again.

Now you were an “adult” and you had moved across the country to escape your past. “You are capable of making your own choices,” your parents had said. They forgot to mention the fine print where “your own choices” had to be the ones they approved of.

You tried to heal, hoping that with some therapy sessions, you’d figure out why you were so unlovable. Then you gave up on that when your parents had found out by snooping through your credit card statements when they insisted on visiting you for dinner.

They would always despise you no matter what you did. You weren’t even sure if it was worth fixing yourself when you didn’t have any purpose other than fucking around to spite others. 

What was the point of your life? You felt worthless for not knowing what to do with your issues. Other people had lived through worse and still led fulfilling lives.

You had ducked into a park that had a series of trails, some with bridges over the train tracks. You tried to gauge how high up you were from the bridge to the ground. A few stories at least. You stuck the empty bottle of wine through the bars and dropped it. To your satisfaction, you heard considerable silence before the glass shattered on the ground.

It was much past midnight. No one else would be walking around the park at this hour.

You scaled the bars meant to present fools such as yourself from falling over. Partly through your climb, you heard a deep voice.

“And what are you doing at this hour, child?”

“What does it look like?” you hissed back, still clinging to the bars. “Oh look, it’s another loonie, trying to off themselves. Go ahead, call the police. You might as well fuck off because there’s nothing you could say or do that would – oh my god!”

You had turned your head around and stared right into a floating bird skull with empty eye sockets. The tall figure wore tattered robes with a crescent moon emblem on their chest. They were holding a crescent moon staff to match.

You let go of the bars and dropped back onto the bridge, readying yourself for a fight. “Who the hell are you? Is this some kind of prank?”

“It is not. I am the god Khonshu,” the figure replied.

“Khonshu? What kind of name is that?”

“I am the god of the moon, searching for someone to be my voice on Earth, my vengeance against those who would do the travellers of the night harm.”

“Okay buddy, you must be as messed up as I am if you’re here saying stuff like that to me,” you retorted. “So, mighty Khonshu, why don’t you go look for someone else, and I’ll just get back to what I am doing here.”

“Y/N, I know you have suffered in isolation. I know that your family despises you. That you have been betrayed by someone who you once loved. That no matter how much you try, no one can truly care for you in return.”

Your eyes narrowed to slits. What in the world is happening? Am I that wasted that I’m hallucinating a dead bird man? Wine doesn’t have that much alcohol, right?

He continued. “And so, now you have come here, to end your miserable existence. You believe that you have no worth. You believe you have no purpose. What if I were to offer you one?”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“Serve me as my fist of vengeance, and you will be able to protect souls from suffering in pain,” he offered. “Serve me, and I will be the moonlight that illuminates your path. From now on, you will no longer suffer from fear or doubt. You will know that you are needed by my side, and I will never turn my back on you.”

The offer was tempting for you. You had been living on autopilot for a while, only doing what was necessary to sustain the life you were trapped in. Applying to transfer to the Faculty of Music was the first decision you had made for yourself in a long time, and oh how it had been the last straw between you and your family.

You could come back here tomorrow night if you were hallucinating the bird man to stop you from jumping. You were sure that no costume was good enough to create a floating skull on a person without wires or a pole showing.

Your mind cleared as you made your decision and knelt before Khonshu. “I accept. I will serve you, my lord.”

After that night, you started to have the will to retake your life. You cut off your family and applied to be recognized as financially independent from them. That qualified you for more scholarships, so you were able to stay at school. You passed your audition and worked hard at perfecting your performances, making the first friends you had in a very long time by bonding over your passion for music.

At night, you would roam the rooftops, looking for those who would prey on the vulnerable. You tried to hold back for lesser crimes such as petty theft. For fouler creatures, you would beat them bloody and carve a crescent moon onto their arms as a reminder that you were watching, and you would be coming back if they ever hurt anyone else again.

You did not kill if it was not necessary. You were devoted to Khonshu, but every life you took would twist your heart, because in that moment, it just felt so right to do something so very wrong.

The high you would get from ending the lives of the scum of the Earth would always yield to some degree of guilt at the monster inside of you. That was why that night fighting the traffickers had taken a toll.

Still, Khonshu had kept his promise. He was proud of you. He would not abandon you.

And maybe he felt other things for you?

You were afraid to ask what all those gestures on your camping trip with him had meant. It was probably his way of rewarding you and showing you that the moon held as much light as it did darkness.

His darkness hid even in his nickname for you. You knew that it also held a double meaning in his language. It had slipped from his beak one night after you had broken the legs of a woman who was part of a scam ring that preyed on new immigrants to your country. 

You had interrogated her for hours, trying to learn the details of her operation. The wrappings on your hands were bloody from trying to force the answers you sought from her.

“Menet,” he muttered to himself.

“My lord, what did you say?”

He observed you for a while in silence. You were still focused on your task, trying to locate the other members of the group through the windows of the building that the woman gave you the address to.

“It is swallow in Ancient Egyptian.” You unmasked and turned to him, an eyebrow raised. Khonshu didn’t normally waste your time with lessons in linguistics while you were carrying out his will.

“It also means suffering,” he continued, and turned away.

You wondered why he couldn’t look at you then. Was it because he felt guilty for taking you into his service? For making you cause pain and spill blood in the name of worshipping him?

If he has regret now after we’ve come this far together, he is a fool, you thought bitterly.

You were a weapon for your god. You had wanted this. You had agreed to it. Vengeance and suffering belonged hand in hand.

“I guess I’m the one making them suffer now,” you murmured. “At least they deserve it.”

That was the end of that conversation. 

Still, if he now wanted to focus on the bright side of his words, you had no problem indulging him, as long as there was room for you to throw a jab in.

“So, you nicknamed me after a bird because it flies really prettily,” you mused. “And I thought you didn’t notice any of my feminine charms.”

You gave a little wink to Khonshu, then stuck out your tongue. “I’m just kidding, don’t throw a tantrum you big baby.”

Khonshu hit the blunt end of his staff against your balcony floor. “I am not a big baby,” he griped.

“Okay, if you aren’t a big baby, then grant me your endless wisdom, oh great Khonshu,” you jested. “Why do you think I’m overthinking it?”

“Because I have heard you sing that song many times, and I know that no mortal would be able to withstand the way your voice touches their hearts,” he explained.

You were dumbfounded. You didn’t know what to say at all.

Khonshu coughed and cleared his voice. “Besides, there are other matters to attend to. Do you not have to prepare your attire for the evening?”

“Ah no! I forgot to get a new dress! I’m such an idiot!”

You rushed past him and opened the screen door to get inside your apartment. You rushed over your closet, trying to find a dress that would be suitable for the occasion.

Nothing looked right. Sure, you could go with the classic black, and it went with everything, but it didn’t really go with being “moonlight kissed”.

Khonshu ducked under your door frame and went to place his hand on your shoulder. “I have a simple solution.”

“What, you’re now a tailor in addition to a music critic?” you scoffed.

“You forget, little swallow, that you have the suit I gave you.”

“Yeah, sure thing, I’ll just show up in the full ceremonial armour of Khonshu, complete with knives and the scary glowing eyes,” you countered. “I’m sure that will be a great advertisement for the school.”

Khonshu sighed. “My swallow, do you always need to challenge me?”

“Only when I’m stressed out about this performance and you’re…not making sense.”

You wanted to say, “and you’re being a huge distraction”, but you held back. The last thing you wanted to do was complicate your relationship if he asked you how he was distracting.

“Focus on the dress you want. Close your eyes,” he instructed.

You tilted your head and looked at him, unconvinced that that would do anything. He resorted to using his other hand to cover your eyes for you. You were painfully aware of your back pressing into his body.

“Khonshu, what are-”

“Close your eyes, Y/N.”

You complied, shutting your eyes. Nothing happened.

“This is ridiculous. I can just wear the black dress, it’s fine.”

“You are not focusing,” Khonshu criticised. “Sing another verse. Think about your performance.”

You took a breath in and sang.

“Fingers of blue on the snow

Reaching to touch

The warm light still aglow

Across the porch

We watch the scene die untold

Outside our window”

You started to feel the crescent moon necklace you wore heat up, not unlike the rush you got when summoning your normal suit. Suddenly, you felt the wrappings creep around your waist.

“For my words are the salt of lust

On that ivory skin

Difficult to hear at all

Through the everyday din”

You couldn’t help but think a bit about Khonshu when you sang this variation of the bridge. You wondered what he was hiding under his robes, and what it would feel like to kiss his bare skin, if he had any.

“What is this if not some witchcraft?

Wrapped up widdershins

To lead us all astray

Hook in mouth

On through such webs of lies

Truth's a distant star

In our eyes

Moonlight kissed”

You felt Khonshu remove his hand from your face, and you opened your eyes. You caught your reflection in your mirror and couldn’t hold in your gasp of surprise.

You were now in a modified A-line dress with bishop sleeves that transitioned in a gradient from silver at the bodice to deep blue at the skirt. The neckline of the dress dipped down in a V to show off your crescent moon necklace perfectly.

If you turned, you saw how the fabric caught the light and shimmered. Little gems were scattered on your dress like stars in the night sky. You figured that Khonshu had decided to put those on so people would be too busy staring at the glitter to notice the line of hieroglyphs in midnight blue that were embroidered around the waist of your dress.

You wore black tights and simple black flats underneath. They were your old lucky shoes for performing and were comfortable when you were using the piano pedal. You thought you had lost them during the Spring Festival concert. Heavens know how Khonshu had summoned them onto your feet.

Your sleeves were made of sheer silver-white fabric with a netted pattern. You gave your arms a little swing and were satisfied that your arms did not feel weighed down. The dark blue ribbons used to tie off your sleeves at the end had hieroglyphs embroidered on their ends in midnight blue too.

Curled strands of your hair framed your face. The rest of your hair had been transformed into a rose bun, with a bronze comb holding it together.  The comb had another crescent moon just like the one Khonshu wore on his chest. You wore a pair of earrings that had a bird in flight in bronze against a silver disk.

The makeup on your face was simple, but you had to admit that it was cleaner than what you could do on your own, with the added bonus of no risk of poking yourself in the eye while you tried to apply eyeliner and mascara. You turned your face slowly to admire the silver eyeshadow on your eyelids.

“Khonshu, it’s beautiful. How did you do this?”

“Consider it a gift, for good luck,” he replied. “I learned a few blessings from Hathor for her favoured musicians. She will not mind me using them on this occasion.”

“Don’t all of the Ennead dislike you after you refused to withdraw from mortal affairs?” you questioned, turning around to face him.

“Hathor is…special. She decided to stay with me even after my banishment.”

Hathor was also the goddess of beauty and love, and the mistress of the stars. Of course she would be “special” to Khonshu, you grumbled in your mind. 

You had joked earlier that he was jealous, but in truth, you were now beginning to be jealous of Hathor. Khonshu and her had millennia of history and could have millennia more if they wanted. All you had were a few decades at the most.

Ever since Khonshu had given you a reason to live, your life had blossomed. What would you do if this ever came to an end, like human lives have to?

Savour the gifts you have now, you reminded yourself. You absentmindedly played with the ribbons around your wrists.

“What do all of these say?”

Khonshu took your wrist in his hand. ”Ha heset khebi netjeret, kherep djeret.i pu ptah heset,” he read from the ribbons. “O, goddess of music and dance, guide my hands as I create this song.”

Then he let go and wrapped one arm around your waist. You tried not to blush as you were pulled in closer to him again.

“Redji.i kheru fai her tjau ti hesit. Redji.eni itji abebem heset henket.ek er.neb. Let my voice carry through the air as I sing. Let us take pleasure in music, your gift to us all.”

“You put a lot of thought into helping me with this dress, didn’t you?” you asked.

“I want only the best for you,” he stated.

You were trying to work out what to say or do that could express your gratitude. Khonshu had done so much for you, even when you were fine with settling for a dress you already had.

You wondered if he cared for you beyond the bond between avatar and god, but you tried to squash that feeling.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up. You didn’t want to ruin this.

You moved in and gave the god a tight hug. You couldn’t help but close your eyes, rest your head against his chest, and enjoy the comfort his touch gave you as he reciprocated your hug. You felt so safe with him and you were so happy that he was here for you.

“Thank you so much, Khonshu. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. Even if I don’t always say it.”

“You are welcome,” he spoke. “I wish you the very best this evening, my sweet swallow.”

You made it through the brief dress rehearsal without incident. It was just to make sure that the performers knew the order they were going on stage and when to come out at the end and bow.

Your classmates had complimented you on your outfit and hairstyle. When you were asked where you got the dress from, you lied and said it was something that your grandmother had given you. Better not tell them that an Egyptian god bird man gave this to me.

You felt the nervousness you had whenever you were waiting in the wings to go on stage. You shook out your hands and collected yourself before walking on the stage to polite applause.

Partway through your performance, you had spotted Khonshu standing at the far end of the theatre.

I cannot believe he came to this. You thought he would be out to scout the city so he could tell you where to go once the event was over and night fell.

“New day comes again

And it laughs in your face

Whispering secrets of pain

By all its names

What flame could burn out the stain

Of a life misplaced?”

Until you had met Khonshu, you had never felt like you belonged. You did not find shelter with your family. You could not keep friends by your side. 

Now, you were reborn as his fist. You did not need to fear every next day because you knew he would be there at night, waiting for you to come to him.

“But summer's scent still lingers

In your hair

Despite the ache

There's magic everywhere”

You sang out and gave more support to your voice as you reached the final verse.

“Out the window, run rebellion

Rapt with all you find

For seeking something new

Play in the ponds like summer's wind

Dance with the trees melding with mist

Beyond their flower field like

You're moonlight kissed”

You finished playing through the ending of the accompaniment and let the last chords ring out into the air. Then, you let the keys go. You paused with your hands over the piano before you rose from the bench, turned to the audience, and took your bow.

Khonshu had leaned his staff against the wall, and he was clapping for you. You smiled directly at him before exiting off stage.

Thank you for always being with me, you prayed to him.

You heard his voice reply. I will always take care of you, my precious swallow.

Some author notes -

Literal translations of the Ancient Egyptian from @crispychrissy:

“O music dance goddess, direct my hand to create this song.  Let my voice carry upon the wind while I sing. Let us take pleasure in music, your offering to all.”

An outfit mood board and a sketch I did of the dress.

I also feel like writing a chapter from Khonshu’s POV where Hathor shows up and teases him about his choice of avatar because he just happened to pick someone who sings and kicks butt.

[alluringjae]

until dawn; pt. II - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 12.2k

⤑ genre: ANGST, fluff, romance, smut (f receiving, dom!jeno waow, dirty talk, wrap it everyone) | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, enemies to lovers!au, college!au, night at the museum-inspired!au

⤑ warnings: references to actual historical figures, explicit language, graphic details, major heartbreak caused by another party, expect time jumps too

⤑ author’s note: happy jeno day!! i’ve been so excited to post this part, and i’m happy we’re here!! perhaps, this is the last long fic i’ll write for a while so i can rest, but i’ll still be posting short stories within the weeks to come! i’m excited for may to say the least hehe

btw, for the smut scene (indicated with **), i highly recommend you listen to strange (feat. hillary smith) by kris bowers!! this song is from the bridgerton soundtrack, and oh man, the feels!!

with that, enjoy!

italicized text either means they are personal notes or flashbacks.

this was meant to be more angsty, but either way, i screamed every time i wrote something gut-wrenching.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome

​ ⤑ ctto above!!

⤑  leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

“You ready to get your butt beaten by me, Lee?”

“Prepare your final words when I win instead, (Y/L/N).”

Mischievous banter exchanged between you two became a new norm. Almost every night, someone within the art pieces established a contest over anything and it released the competitive sides of you two. So far, Jeno has been winning. Not like it hurt your pride, but maybe just once, you could conquer one game to feel better. Not only that, there’s a mini penalty for the loser. So far, you’ve cleaned up the lobby yourself and acted cutely to everyone the entire evening (or aegyo as Jeno called it).

Tonight, a game of archery was held by the Greek gods. They pushed away any extra pieces away, leaving the whole room vacant with two boards right beside Zeus’ throne. Numerous arrows were produced and sharpened, Zeus in the center announced to everyone participating.

“It’ll be 1 on 1 games. First to go are Jeno vs (Y/N), followed by Athena vs. Hermes, Cleopatra vs. Freddie, and last would be Hades vs Aphrodite.”

Cutting the chase, you didn’t expect Jeno to be that good at archery. Sure, he told you that he took classes with his friends for fun when he was younger, though it showed that he’s a fast learner and even hit one bullseye in the middle of the game.

Not slightly threatened until the last rounds, you fixed your aim and lessened your overthinking when preparing to shoot. Thus, you scored 2 bullseyes shot. It was a close fight, having the audience on the edge on their feet again because it’s the two of you. Your dynamic with the night guard always elevated the mood, shifting their bets over and over again.

By 1 point, you received your first victory against Jeno. Unlike you, he showcased his sportsmanship sweetly without any comments of disbelief. He’s never bragged about anything big in his life, not unless it’s a high grade for his plate. Normally, he celebrated wins in a laid-back manner. But don’t be fooled: he loves giving penalties.

“This is why I don’t make bets with my friends because I really go for their weak spots.”

“You’re cynical, Lee Jeno.”

“Only if you’re close to me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Aren’t we already past that stage?”

Almost halfway through his job, he sustained a meaningful friendship with you. Out of everyone, you were his default person to hang out within the nights he had a shift. If he wasn’t present, he made sure to give you small treats or gifts as much as possible. An innocent friendship, it was that the world would’ve never believed in.

Or was it?

“To celebrate your win, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re too kind for me to play around with, even if you’re the complete opposite of me.”

“I’ll make it simple and worthwhile since I don’t know when I’ll win a game again.” As your finger tapped your temple as you pondered deeply, a smart idea came through. “Grant me 3 wishes.”

He chuckled, lowering himself to view you better. “Am I like some genie now to you?”

“No room to complain, I won, didn’t I?” You grinned, raising one brow to show your dominance.

“You’re petty in your own way, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps. Now come on, I want to use my first wish.” You shrugged it off like no big deal, loving the high feeling of triumph. You lead him to the center of the lobby, where a beautiful grand piano only selected people get to play during exhibits. “Open the museum piano.”

Ever since you were brought to life, you never used it. Tempting but because people from the outside might here, maybe it’s time to try something new. A new challenge, and besides, you missed entertaining people through it. The last time you touched the delicate piano keys was to your family before you ran away.

It’s a good thing that in the shackle of keys Jeno held, the needed key was there. Unlocking the lustrous black instrument, you sat by the matching black bench. Crackling your fingers, you tested by pressing a few keys to get the hang of it again.

“What are you planning to play, (Y/N)?” Jeno leaned against the side, his arms crossed.

Humming the first notes of your piece, the nostalgia ran through your veins. “Nocturne No. 2 in E flat by Chopin.”

Your fingers took off and played each chord slowly and calmly. This piece reminded you the most of your mother, who sat by the couch in front of your old piano with your father while guests from the party they hosted crowded around you. Being the youngest, they often requested you to perform as entertainment so you always put your best foot forward. Or so you tried.

Nevertheless, no one else in your family was capable to play this piece as perfectly as you. By the way your eyes closed and your body swayed to the mellow tune, Jeno observed how you memorized this piece by heart. A passionate flame you were, outshining every pianist out there.

He wasn’t surprised at how multi-talented you were, though there’s a different kind of aura you present when you played the instrument. From your hard and tough front, you could be soft and sweet to the right people.

In a way, you showed your comfort toward the boy by serenading him with the piano. Sketching him with him in the past was one thing, but this was another. You’d sketch with people you’ve grown used to, but you play piano to people you want to cherish in your life. As dangerous as it seems, Jeno was someone special to you, only wanting to have good moments with him.

Junmyeon will always have a huge part in your museum life, but Jeno filled the emptiness that he left behind. This loneliness for a human friend vanquished thanks to Jeno, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it at all. Sure, whenever he acted like a gentleman around you, let you inside the Foreign Art Room, or brought you food sometimes, you couldn’t help feel honored.

Though lately, every time he showed off his strength when he defeated Zeus and Hades during an arm wrestle game the god held again. You seriously had to catch a breath at every flex his arms made, like the goddesses. Maybe how he pushed his black hair back when he’s drawing another plate, you’d give yourself a few extra seconds to see his long fingers skim through them. He’d bit his lower lip when he’s in too deep with his creativity, wondering if he’d bite the lower lip of the girl he’d ki-

All right, (Y/N), relax. Maybe you’re thinking this way because it’s been decades since your last relationship. You wouldn’t want to fall for another possible trap and hurt yourself again, right?

Ever since this job, Jeno’s university life drastically changed. Yes, he still hung out with his friends and performed extremely well in his classes, though he prioritized anything related to the museum wherever he was. If they were drinking out, he’d buy an extra bottle of soju for you on his way back to the dorm. Rarely does he get shitfaced anyways.

If he and Renjun visited the bookstore to purchase pens or any art-related materials, he always bought either an extra sketchpad or set of pens. Even if you were simply a figure to everyone else, he appreciated the bond you both developed.

Every night, he’d tell you about his day from the start. Normally, it consisted of a lot of schoolwork and coffee, some stories about his roommates too. Speaking of them, he’d insert a lot of humorous words about his entire group of friends, whom you learned their names too.

Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, Jisung, Chenle, and Donghyuck, each of them presented a different color in their group. Jeno, who’d admitted to being shy and quiet, grew out of his shell because of them. A friend of Jeno’s would automatically be a friend of yours, if only you were allowed to leave the museum or become a human.

Jeno learned more about your past explorations that never got documented because you no longer had an interest in jotting them down. They were adventures you’d kept to yourself, memories only close to you then would know. Except now, Jeno was another addition. You’re not the type to instantly open to people, though again, a sense of relief surrounded him every time you encounter each other. It grew gradually like a warm hug, softening your heart and breaking your walls.

The more he spent time with you, nothing feared Jeno the slightest. He’s always maintained himself intact, avoiding lines to be crossed and giving respect to those who deserve it. However, he began to question himself where exactly his feelings lie with you after Jaemin tried to set him up on a blind double date just so the best friend of his date wouldn’t feel left out.

He’s rarely one to get crushes on people, even when other girls in his college openly showed their affection towards him. Valentine’s Day or his birthday, several girls sent him chocolate or flowers. Jaemin and Renjun got sick of girls reaching out to them first so they could reach him. It’s not because he’s not the dating type, but because he’s so goal-oriented that unlike his roommates, he doesn’t have a slight clue about dating.

Though one-night stands while at a party and dating were completely different, he’d still say he had experience with girls. Plus having an older sister, he never took advantage of them. He’d rather tell them in person that the feelings weren’t mutual than ghosting them. He’s not like Jaemin anyways.

With that, he’s so lost when his heart beats twice as fast the second you’ve woken up from your posing slumber. He doesn’t comprehend how flustered he’d be when you highly insist to help him with his plate or how cute he finds it when you’re playing fetch with Mochi. On top of it, when you chose to sketch each other for one of your sketching sessions, he’d take a longer stare at your visage before he drew some strokes.

A lot of historical accounts mentioned how your beauty was the standard of the Victorian era, wherein you were the jewel of your neighborhood and numerous men wanted your hand. Women envied you, especially having high intelligence skills that were equivalent to a man. That time, that felt like a threat to most men. Though surprisingly, it turns out there were men who liked intelligent girls.

Jeno knew he liked you as a friend, though liking you past that he didn’t intend. Nor was it allowed because it’ll break one of the golden rules. Before he’d go beyond contemplating, he had to stop himself. This was so unlike him. The feelings will fleet away, he’d repeat to himself. Don’t waste a great friendship because of your silly emotions.

Individually, both of you swallowed these harboring feelings down your guts and simply kept your friendship status safe. Doing your typical activities or whatever else you could think of, none of you minded to change it whatsoever.

Unknown to you though, it was obvious to the other art pieces ones that you two practically passed off as young lovers. Although they know that pushing one towards the other went against the rules, Aphrodite begged to differ.

“Holding them back from expressing what they really feel just because of the law here is a tragedy. They should at least try, you know?”

On another typical night, Jeno invited you to the Theater Room for a movie marathon. After finding out that you’ve never seen any moving pictures, he wanted to be there to introduce it. Luck was on his side to not have plates or requirements due for the week and everyone was behaving themselves, so he started with rolling out short films from the 88mm projector. Having premade popcorn and drinks, the two of you shared roars of laughter and emotional tears.

Switching to the cd player for longer and clearer films, you’d opt to believe that you were born at the wrong time. With all these advancements, it came with a lot of new beliefs. One of them was allowing women to study and work. Then again, she was a pioneer according to historians. Without her, it wouldn’t help shape society as it is today.

Nonetheless, this movie Jeno played on the big screen was what he defined as “one of the classics”, 10 Things I Hate About You.

This outspoken character named Kat was presenting a poem to her class, trying to hold in her raw emotions towards Patrick, the boy who broke her heart. Too engaged, you didn’t notice how Jeno stretched his arms out so he could wrap one around your shoulder. Not that you were complaining, his warmth reassuring you safety.

“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.” The way she attempted to keep her strong ground only reminded you of where you were weeks ago, especially once she excruciatingly broke down.

“I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Only when you leaned back to the chair, you felt his arm. His thumb caressing your covered shoulder, you peeked him a little bit. His eyes fixated on the screen, absorbed in the acting and how Kat’s tears weren’t scripted as she stormed out of the classroom.

Not that you were her, but it sparked the past memory of how you merely disliked him because of his job. But as a person, not even close, not even once did you hate him. How blessed that he never judged you for it, staying patient all this time.

Right before he could look back at you, you moved your face back to resume your watching. Jeno definitely noticed what you did, though not sure as to why. Whatever it was, it wasn’t harmful.

Once the film ended, Jeno checked his watch for the time. 4 am, he wanted to do something else now instead of film viewing. You were on par with it, wanting to walk it out after being seated for hours. As you both cleaned up and bid the posters outside goodbye, the doors to the museum were locked unexpectedly. Impossible on Jeno’s half because he had the keys for every room, but he double-checked his bunch.

Alas, the keys for these doors specifically were missing. But there was no other way anyone could’ve gotten it, plus it’s not like the last person he talked to, which was Aphrodite, would need it.

Or did she?

Rather than putting any blame on each other, your only wish now was to return to your section before sunrise. You and he could just relax momentarily before yelling for help.

“Maybe we should watch another film first?”

“Alright, you choose while I return the rest.”

As Jeno inserted the cd of Cinema Paradiso inside, the background music of the opening played. He hummed the first notes, already feeling the love from this film. Another must-see classic as recommended by Renjun, he wanted to rewatch it with you.

Slowly returning each cd and film roll to their respective drawers, the melodious theme had you waltzing in the small space. Even beyond your life, classical music never gets old. Aging like fine wine, sounding spectacular as time passes because of people’s creativity.

Jeno gazed over your sudden movements, smiling uncontrollably at how immersed you were as you multi-tasked. However, you took a wrong turn by the desk and almost dropped a priceless film roll. But before you fully slipped and fell, a pair of strong arms caught you at the right time. Panting from the nerves, mostly when he was inches from your face. Never has he pressed his body this close to you to protect you, and never have you seen his captivating eyes this up close.

As enchanting as the background music of Ennio Morricone was, it only became noise once Jeno took ahold of the film roll on your hand and placing down on the desk. Taking another step closer, you were backed up by the edge. Not to mention how his height dignified his impact on you, your arms were still situated by your side with nowhere else to go.

That was until his finger elevated your chin so he could meet you on eye-to-eye level. His other hand gripping your waist, you became brave enough to place your hands by his broad shoulders. Licking your lips, you glanced at his lips quickly. But he noticed it, and as risky as this was, it was a leap of faith to take.

“May I kiss you?”

Always such a gentleman, even when he already knew how much you desired him through your returning affections. Calming your breath patterns by the speed of everything occurring, you came back to your senses. He’s the one who constantly told you not to forget your roots, so you were going to take this one.

You trust him, and he does too.

“Yes.”

Since the first film, some kind of tension increased the closer he moved or intimate his actions were towards you. You kept pushing it back in hopes not to ruin what you both have. But it only turned out to be mutual, especially how none of you held back as soon as his lips passionately clashed yours.

Tangling your arms around his neck, you stood on your tiptoes to press even closer to him. Feeling his lively heart pumping against your hollow chest, you bit his lower lip. Something you’ve secretly craved to do, he growled from the pleasure. He hoisted your waist to the desk, his impatient hands earnestly traveling all over your body. While your legs locked around his torso, your feisty nature leaned back so your entire body lied on the small desk.

Jeno was on top, placing one hand down to hold himself while the other squeezed your waist firmly. Even if you’re made of wax, you’re like an actual living woman at night. Everything about you becomes real until dawn. You emitted vulgar moans, giving him more access to your neck. Peppering a mix of soft to hard kisses, your hand teasingly snaked under his shirt. He really wasn’t joking when he bragged that he was quite ripped since he enjoyed sports and going to the gym, cupping a part of his toned abdomen.

“If you want something, all you have to do is ask.” He sluggishly sucked the area between your ear and neck, one of your weakest spots. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

The growing moistness in between your legs left a stain in your panties, trying to close your legs out of embarrassment. It’s been decades since you’ve been stimulated like this. However, Jeno beat you to it as he trailed the hand that was on your waist and lowering it right above your covered sex. He cupped it agonizingly slow, making you folding your leg from the pleasure. For a man who doesn’t date around, he knew exactly what he’s doing.

“I just kissed you, and you’re already this soaked. Can you handle me, baby?”

As the strong woman that you present yourself to be, it would selfishly take the right touch from the right man to weaken you. With his savage lips back on yours while your hands clutched on his shirt, he was simply waiting for a verbal answer, yet driving you completely mad. Everything was happening so fast, and here he was to please you in anywhere you seem fit.

You were deprived, and oh, you needed it more than ever.

However, seconds before you replied, there was loud rumbling from the main doors which stopped your devilish antics. As Jeno moved back from you to see the ruckus, you lifted yourself back up, pulling back your dress sleeves and flattening out the creases. The last thing you wanted was a trail of familiar red marks from the aggressive male, finding any reflective surfaces to check.

“I wouldn’t be that dumb to leave you hickies now, would I?” Jeno ended your worries as he placed his hands by your side again. His face leaned towards yours again, reliving the warmth in your cheeks. His lips were plumper, catching traces of your coral lipstick smudged there down to his jaw. He slotted himself again between your legs, grazing a hand on your waist and the other to your warm cheek. “The door’s unlocked now, and it’s 5 am. Do you want to clean up now?”

You playfully scoffed, aware that neither of you had plans to do that yet. Such a player while in the heat of the moment.

“Spare me 15 more minutes with you first.”

Hiding the romance you’ve both built failed without trying. Aphrodite spotted all the signs from your open physical affection and words of admiration, calling you two out in front of everyone without shame. She is the goddess of love, after all. You couldn’t fool her even if you tried.

Plus, she’s the one who locked the two of you up in the Theater Room that night. But neither of you know that.

“Sketch my ideal home?” Jeno bent down to the table, testing out his newly bought pens so they wouldn’t spill.

“Isn’t that why you decided to pursue Architecture in the first place? Come on now!” You pestered across him, opening your new sketchpad since your last one ran out of pages. As expected, Jeno bought you one when he went to the bookstore. As much as you insisted not to because he should use the money somewhere else, he did it anyway. He loved your works, encouraging you in any way he could.

When he was reminded of his humble beginnings of his passion for architecture by you, never had he envisioned exactly how his perfect home would be like. Settling down was so far beyond his mind, only focusing to graduate university then study for the licensure exams. However, he did miss drawing something for fun, not as a requirement. He also was the one who took charge of designing his dorm.

“Fine, only if you draw what your ideal home would’ve been if you never left London.”

Now as lovers, the only addition to your relationship were the public and private exchanges of affection. Deep conversations, film viewing, back and forth banter, you’re both still the same competitive duo everyone expected to be together. In public, the two of you held hands, hugged, kissed each other cheeks too when it felt right. Cleopatra’s face of fake nausea was priceless every time, while Princess Diana, Anne, and Katherine enjoyed it. It’s been years since they’ve seen this glow of adoration in you. Bit by bit, you’re going back to the old you. Except now, you’re a lot stronger.

Perhaps, this version of you proved wrong for the need for romance. Even if you made the choice not to settle down then, it would’ve been different if Jeno was in your universe then.

“Are you done there?” Jeno asked while you were finishing up your masterpiece. Life in London sounded fun when you were younger, having all these ideas on interior design and the like. An innocent time.

Instead of replying, you strode to his side and compared your pieces together. He pictured a two-story home, with a backyard and rooftop area. He definitely wanted to stay in the city as his whole life was based there. Although you preferred living in the countryside more for more freedom, you gave it a shot by pinpointing every detail of a wealthy typical Victorian-era home you liked. You desired a spacious lobby with a grand staircase in the middle, a crystal chandelier there too. The living room would have a small library and a grand piano, where wide doors leading to the grasslands were beside it.

Considering you two lived from different times, in a way your ideal homes were similar. Somewhere private, surrounded by nature and minimal furniture, you’re curious as to how it would look if the two of you fused them together. A mix of old and new, will it look pretty?

“What will look pretty?” Jeno questioned your random thought, looking back and forth at your sketches. “You know who’s pretty though?”

“If you say what I think you’re going to say, I’m lea-”

“You.”

Jeno has gotten flirtier since that night, always finding the right opportunity to flatter you. Although you denied them out of embarrassment, the butterflies in your stomach can’t lie to you.

You’re so smitten, and so was he.

Jeno’s always one to follow the rules, but so far, he’s been breaking some of them already.

Just last night, he gave Renjun access to the lively museum because he needed more research regarding you. Initially, he practically interviewed Jeno for every piece of information he gathered because he used to be so deep in the books to study everything about you. Now in the past, Renjun still couldn’t forget how Jeno drunkenly admitted how crazy he was going to be over you and your coldness whilst sobering up in the dorm.

He didn’t understand one bit by that, especially when you’re technically dead. But by the sight of the first piece Renjun saw alive, which was Zeus, he almost passed out. Piece by piece, he viewed these artworks come to life from his fresh eyes. Right before he could’ve screamed when Athena shot a lightbulb in their exhibit, you happily called out Jeno’s name.

Renjun froze on the spot upon seeing your wax figure come to life. He’s browsed through this museum numerously due to the new exhibits, but lately, he checked your section out to find any tiny details that were linked to your life. Aside from the sketchpad, compass, and hairpins, he wanted to know if there was more to your life as an explorer.

As human interactions except the night guard weren’t allowed, Renjun needed help for his project in Women Studies. Just like Jeno’s assignment, you aided him. Fruitfully answering every question he gave you, Athena popped out of nowhere to inspect Jeno.

“I see you’re breaking another rule.”

“I’m sorry, Athena. He was desperate, and it would be selfish of me to let him fail.”

“This is the last one I’ll let slide, alright?” Athena huffed, not impressed by the reckless behavior Jeno acquired over time. She saw this coming, but for a change, she couldn’t punish him. He was a young adult, still learning more about life. Only will she step in if things turn for the worst. “I can’t believe I’ve gained a soft spot for you.”

Jeno laughed, hugging the figure like his older sister. “You love me though!”

Glad to say, Renjun aced his project and kept his word of not telling anyone about the happenings in Jeno’s job. Jeno even made a makeshift non-disclosure contract so Renjun wouldn’t spill the slightest details.

Lately, so much has been happening in the museum that having alone time with each other was rare. And when you did, the two of you made sure to maximize it and make every intimate moment count. From each touch, each longing kiss, each moan, and groan, never were you left hanging whether you’re at the Theater Room, Jeno’s office, or the Foreign Art Room.

The only time the two of you went beyond the boundaries was at the indoor garden. Jeno managed to get the key to it, lighting up some candles before you invited you inside. Thanks to the magic of the Greek gods, the cameras were bewitched to display fake imageries when security checks in the morning after.

Upon your deep conversations, you’ve mentioned once or twice about the indoor garden. It was the latest addition of the museum, opening in the early 2000s. Because it was a sacred place, no art piece was ever allowed inside.

Yet again, Jeno challenged the rules again when he invited you inside. A few minutes before, he set up some lights along the hallway of the garden, where he placed a blanket, a picnic basket, and his laptop right at the end of it. The best place to view everything, he just knew you’d love it.

He was undoubtedly right once you gasped at such a pretty sight. Seeing the silhouettes of various flowers and plants together with the night sky with all the stars sparkling, it was like you’re attending another ball with your sisters, who were looking for suitors then.

Once Jeno leisurely led you until the end, he brought out all the delicacies from the basket. One of them was this Italian savory dish of dough with toppings such as cheese and pepperoni, or pizza as they named it. The next ones were fresh strawberries and melted chocolate, followed by grape juice.

“I’d drink actual alcohol with you again, only if I didn’t get shitfaced and do my job properly.”

“Point taken. Besides, this is close enough. So pour me a drink please.”

Perhaps this was the closest to a date Jeno could ever ask you out to. With the restrictions and being constrained with time, he brainstormed all sorts of ways to bring the outside world to you. From simply letting you wander around this fascinating room, he unleashed the inner romantic in him. None of his friends would’ve thought since they never asked him about it, so he kept it to himself only. Finally, he’s satisfied with what he prepared. After eating, the two of you would watch more films before the sun rose again.

You’re just the right person for him at the moment he can act that way.

After your quiet stroll and sitting back down, Jeno surprisingly handed you a tiny box.

“A gift?”

“Open it.” He sipped on his juice, paying attention to your actions. Gently untying the box, the amazement in your eyes couldn’t fathom such a lovely present. No words were required to verify that Jeno outdid himself again, just your facial expression alone is enough.

When Jeno said that he pays attention to the tiny details, he doesn’t bluff. Throughout your growing relationship, you’ve cited how you wanted another special flower in your life. Just because you couldn’t view lavender roses the same way ever again, it didn’t mean you wanted to kick them out of your life. Flowers were one of nature’s beautiful creations, so you’re wishing to find the love you once had for lavender roses in other ones.

Thus, you came across what you thought held the highest form of meaning: red roses. Despite its thorns, it’s still a marvelous flower. Innocently, you told him that just because of the memory of your father giving them to your mother on her birthday yearly.

Red roses represented true love and romance, a discreet message only those eager would know.

Jeno was one of them, which was why he reserved this gift for this very moment. It was a necklace he found through a college fair recently, a subtle red rose pendant in the center. Since he couldn’t give you huge gifts, he settled for something light. Something none of the guards or the director wouldn’t pinpoint out when they do their inspections.

“Do you like it?”

Not one utter from your mouth since you’re so hypnotized, your lips quirked up in a charming smile. “Is that even a question? This is astonishing, Jeno.”

After you attempted to put it around your neck, Jeno sighed and stepped in to help you out. “Turn around, (Y/N). Let me.”

The tension gradually heightened once you held your hair up so Jeno accessibly viewed your clean neck. Clasping the lock, it took all his might to hold himself back from you. Even from behind, your silhouette was attractive to him. The lights he set up weren’t helping the slightest of what he’s thinking to do with you.

“Done.” He breathily whispered in your ear.

**

If he thought he was the only one feeling something powerful, he’d be more than wrong. The lingering sensation of his slim fingers gracing your décolletage area unhinged another kind of want, the one you’ve only imagined in your mind when you were needy and alone. It shouldn’t be a sin unless you’re with the person you’ve fallen for, right?

Facing him again, the eye contact didn’t last long when you were the first one to strike a move. Jeno kissed back right away, his hands pulling you closer by your waist. Whatever sultry music Jeno played, it gave you the perfect momentum to grind on his lap. He groaned against kisses, adding his tongue. His thumbs sensually rubbed your hipbones, one of your hands toying around with his hair while the other one balled up his shirt by the chest. None of you cared if anyone caught you.

The last time you’ve been this aggressive was at the Theater Room, which eventually increased the hidden lust you’ve had towards each other. Taking things slowly at first, it’s about time to delve in for more. The mood was already set from the start, even if Jeno didn’t plan this to happen here. But being the prepared man he is, he did have a condom in his back pocket.

Your fingers trailed from his neck until his crotch. He was hard, sensing how suffocated he must be. But he kept himself in control. Locking eye contact, you sweetly spoke.

“Grant my second wish, Jeno.” That same hand of yours held one of his, planting it in your breast. “Make love to me.”

Giving the go-signal, he crashed his lips on yours while stripping you off your dress. Carefully, he turned you around to untie your tight corset. Once it fell, your neck leaned sideways as his lips attacked it madly. Your breaths were tremulous, placing both his hands on your freed breasts to knead with. His touch felt like fire on your skin, yet you couldn’t stop.

“Jeno,” Obscene moans from your lips choked out. You desired more, shifting back to face him again to attack his lips. Slowly feeling one of his hands laying you down, you spread your legs with ease just for him. He parted after your head landed on the cushion to unbutton himself. The way your mouth dropped to selfishly stare at his bare body, flexing them before getting back into position. He was fit and toned just as Cleopatra predicted.

As much as Jeno knew how wild your thoughts were getting, he was more taken aback by your perky chest.

“Fuck, you are divine.” He sucked one nipple as his fingers ventured to slip your panties down. So much was going on, you didn’t know which stimulated you more. You tried to close your legs around his hand, but he slapped your inner thigh to stop you.

The cool breeze shivered you, especially from your core. Jeno’s fingers adventurously grazed from your hip area to your lower lips. He teasingly rubbed it up and down in your essence, his index finger settling it right at your needy clit. Another moan escaped your lips, an opportunity for Jeno to slide his tongue in your mouth. Enjoying the moment, his fingers dipped inside you. A gasp broke your kiss, making him giggle in your ear.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, angel. The things I want to do with you.”

Sliding them back and forth, curling it even, you squirmed for more. Dropping himself to meet your core, Jeno placed your legs on his shoulder. Pushing you closer, his steamy breath felt like friction. Your hips grinded against it, so he gripped on them so you stay put.

“Angel,” He chuckled darkly, his crotch tightening at how powerless you looked. “You’re so pretty.”

You were drenched from arousal. But to Jeno, you were glowing under the lights. He wanted to take his time to admire what he had done to you. His independent girl, only weak for him.

His fingers unfolded in your lower lips, diving in to your orbit. You could hardly speak from his skilled mouth, especially his tongue savagely lapping your clit in numerous paces. You’ve only daydreamed about what it could do aside from kissing, and it exceeded your expectations. By the heated sensation that had the heels of your feet digging his back deeply, you affirmed to have seen more stars than the night sky above you.

Your back arched uncontrollably while his hands grasped your hips to stay in place, the tears in your eyes formulating while tugging on his hair. Your thighs clenched around his face, but his broad shoulders widened it to taste more of you. No use of pulling away when his grip on you was tight, so you could only cry out from the pleasure.

“Fuck!”

The ringing sounds in your off were going off, your throat drying up from moaning once another orgasm was about to hit. Once the knot in you snapped, nothing could hold back your screams of pleasure whilst panting for air. Sensitive as he licked every remaining essence he caused, he smirked as he got up to unbuckle his jeans.

Oh, boy. He got quite a package behind his boxers.

Even while you were overly sensitive, you had to grasp it in your hands. He was yours, and you were his.

The way you clenched around his protected length, pausing to readjust yourself to the feeling. The foreplay deemed helpful, though the girth of him overwhelmed you. He stretched you out so good.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” The stunned face you made was expected, still feeling worried that it may be too much.

Biting your lip, you moaned once everything felt bearable. “You can move, Jeno.”

None of you could track exactly how many rounds you went through. Even in the semi-public area, it didn’t hinder either of you. There’s that thrill, and surprisingly enough, you both shared the liking of it. Always switching the positions, you decided to call it quits after another sloppy round in missionary. Something seeing Jeno on top, fully submitting yourself to him, made you feel calm to be vulnerable. It’s really the trust you’ve established from the start, making you rely on humans again once you’ve let the past be.

Jeno brought out another blanket, initially meant for cuddling. It was still applicable though, curling your body into a spoon towards his racing chest. Music was no longer noise, the intimacy creeping back instead of lust this time. The afterglow of Jeno, sweaty and knackered as his legs sprawled under the sheet, was a sight for sore eyes. He’s always been handsome while on duty, but post-sex gave him an extra boost.

Plus there’s pride from the red marks courtesy of you on his chest, grazing over it softly.

Jeno chuckled softly at your smooth fingers, lifting them up to kiss them tenderly before kissing your lips again. Only humans were capable of and to love, but you’re some kind of an exception. Regardless of the magic from the plate, you’d be able to love too if it weren’t for your background.

There’s so much love Jeno wanted to offer you, even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet.

Perhaps one reason was because time was beginning to tick. Finals were a few weeks away, then the one-month long semestral break until a new semester kicks off. Time really flew by, and his bank account and heart expanded too. Enjoying the now was all he could think of doing, but those uncertainties bothered him.

The biggest would be where you and he would stand when his job ended.

Jeno was too absorbed in his internal debate, as portrayed by his eyes staring off in space and running his hand in his hair repeatedly. Something was disturbing him, and you’re concerned as to what it was.

“Jeno,” Around his arm, you tapped his chest to get him out of it. “What’s going on in your head?”

Jeno approached every obstacle he faces straightforwardly, not wanting to let him hold back. Rarely did he keep secrets, especially from you. Instead of hiding away, he voiced it out.

“(Y/N), will we work out?”

“What do you mean, Jeno?”

You’re so occupied in the present that thinking of the future was never in your field. Like him, you’re just enjoying being in the moment. Though after tonight, it’s making you wonder if there’s a future.

“Well,” He placed his hand on top of yours, affectionately observing you. “Times flies faster when you’re having fun, and well, the semester is ending.”

His last words crushed a part of your heart, remembering his initial plan. None of you expected your friendship to bloom into what it is now, but life was just full of surprises without a schedule. At the same time, none of you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It may have been a few months since you two committed to each other, but the spark was still strong. It wasn’t like a summer romance kind of feeling. Time was not a determinant of love either, which you were certain of it with Jeno. A lot more than Junmyeon.

It should’ve frightened you when you realized your love for Jeno, but it didn’t. Even if you didn’t age physically, your mindset did. You’ve learned to forgive your younger self, and through Jeno, you let your guard down completely. From that, you let love in. Platonic to your fellow art pieces, and all of the above to Jeno.

Throughout your relationship, you regained all confidence in yourself and everything you set your mind to.

“I wouldn’t want to worry too much about it if I were you.” Your body flipped to lie on your stomach, resting your head on your palm.

“Why shouldn’t I, angel?”

Gazing back at him, you left a velvety kiss on his lips to rest his thoughts. His hand wrapped your neck, deepening it. But you pulled away with a giggle, all too knowing of his secret intentions as his cock began to harden again. His eyes narrowed down and his lower lip stuck out at your attempt of being a tease.

But enough about sex, you wanted to address a point.

Lee Jeno was going to be the biggest risk you wanted to take and fight for, and no one should try to stop you.

“I’ll ask Circe for a potion. For me, for you, for us.”

If it weren’t for insistent questioning towards every art piece, who kept their mouths shut, only Circe herself banished him from his suffering. Her series of potions varied, and the one you requested years ago which you threw out was capable of turning any art piece into a living human. No potion of Circe ever failed, so you entrusted your life for the day you do drink it.

“Are you sure, angel?”

Jeno knew about that one specifically, and as great to hear that you never threw it out, he never put pressure on you. He wanted you to do whatever felt right, even if deep down, he wished you’d use it. He was only worried about how the flow of the entire museum would be disrupted.

Typical Jeno always looking out for you, but you saw right through his concern. Here you were, caressing his check as reassurance. With an honest smile,

“I’ve never been more certain with anything in my life here until you came, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno opened up more to his life outside the museum, telling all sorts of experiences not just his days as a university student. From his childhood, his family, his travels, heck you even want to meet his friends at this point!

Newly, he shared with you how the sunrise and sunset looked like in Seoul with much vivacity. It’s a luxury as a human to witness as day breaks and ends, so you could imagine by yourself how it would look like. Sure, you had drawings and all, but that was from the real (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

This version of you wanted to live more; that’s your greed now.

“You’ve never touched snow too, right?” Jeno, who had his arm wrapped around you, silently watched the first batch of snow from inside.

“Yup, that’s the thing when you’re imprisoned in this place.” You sulked by his side, earning a chuckle from him who pulled you in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you despise this place.”

“I don’t, but it hinders me to experience new things. The whole pattern of being awake at night by a plate gets tiring, Jeno.”

All Jeno would do when you’re frustrated was placing your head on his shoulder, listening as you talk.

“I know, angel. But it won’t be long until you leave this place with me, right?”

“You know it!” You interlocked your hands with him, eyes trained at every falling snowflake.

Sometimes, moments in silence with Jeno were all you needed for the night. Being within each other’s presence, focusing or admiring something from afar, it was all the peace you’ve needed from the bustling art pieces.

This week was the last of the semester, and Jeno’s off duty for tonight to focus on his exams. You’ll see him tomorrow night, which was his last shift ever, and also yours too.

Perhaps the biggest milestone you’re committing to without any regrets.

However, it took an unnecessary conversation you accidentally eavesdropped on to rock your decision.

You needed more ink after running out mid-way of sketching the sculptures as a secret parting gift. Before you could take a single step inside your exhibit room, a series of voices were full-on arguing. Booming back and forth, you peeped your ear out whilst hiding against the door.

“Athena, how dare you did to her?! She’s done so well from moving on from it, falling in love even! And now you’re telling me this?!” The distinct voice of Princess Diana, who spoke sweetly most of the time, boomed towards the Greek god. “You’re heartless.”

“I did what I had to do for the sake of this place, Diana!” Athena raised her voice, the lightning in her hands holding back from lashing out. She hated it when anyone argued with her, especially when she does things according to what she believed was necessary. Out of everyone, she had more leadership. “She had to know that her place is here as a wax figure, not outside. Talking Junmyeon out of it was for the best, plus it’s ideal when he drank the potion of memory loss from Circe.”

“But it tore her apart when he left her, and it’s going to tear her again if you do the same with Jeno.”

“How else are you going to approach the situation then, Diana? Those two have broken the highest golden rule, so they need to wake up.”

Right when she celebrated within herself for healing, hearing the unbearable revelation behind the past devastated you. This whole time, she internally blamed herself for being ageless and lashed out at others. The scary past barged back in, and you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Somewhere in the corner, you wept without a trace. You could care less about Athena’s opinions, but you found yourself agreeing to some of her words. You had a role to fulfill, and leaving that behind would be selfish and it could make the museum go topsy-turvy. As painful for Junmyeon to leave you, it was because the truth hurts. Nothing could change it, even if Circe could be your solution because it’ll leave a lot of questions. You didn’t want Jeno to be seen as a suspect.

Oh, Jeno.

There’s nothing wrong with falling in love either, you didn’t intend it to happen. But it becomes unfair when it compromises with your purpose, and that’s not how you are. You’ll always remember Jeno as your biggest risk, though it’s time to end things. Treacherous as it was to accept for you, risk-takers have boundaries too.

Fast forward, on the night of Jeno’s last shift, you’ve cherished every second with him. Playing around, chatting with other art pieces, kissing in private, you made it count. Before dawn broke, that’s where you chose to come clean by the garden, your sacred place. Not even your self-reassurance could prepare you to witness the hurt and confusion Jeno felt.

“You’re a mortal, and you still get to choose your path. Mine is already predetermined here as a wax copy of a historical figure.” You advised as you held both his hands, your voice shaking at the reality.

A few days ago, you were beaming with exhilaration at a new journey but now you’ve permanently backed out. Jeno couldn’t comprehend, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t. A life without you by his side would be empty and dull. “Even so, there are things about you that the original person didn’t have.”

Arguing with him wasn’t your favorite, and it’ll leave the two of you in a bad mood. But there is no way to negotiate this; you’ve already made up your mind. “We must end this, Jeno. You need someone who can grow old with you, and I can’t be that person for you.”

“But we can make it work!” His hands gripped on your slumped shoulders, whilst your face avoiding his to spare yourself from the heartache. “There’s still Circe.”

“I know, but recently, I found out that she’s an indirect cause of my misery.” Pulling away from his touch, you belted with frustration. “I cannot do this anymore, Jeno.”

You’ve always fought for whatever you wanted in life, and Jeno knew he was one of them if it weren’t for you telling him that. So he did the same, thinking of ways to make you feel whole. Now, he couldn’t tolerate the sudden crumbling of his heart from your outburst, and all he wanted to know was why you felt this way. How could he help you?

You don’t keep secrets from Jeno, but the truth behind your harsh actions cannot be revealed for the sake of the museum. Plus, you didn’t want him to despise this place he admired. Causing him pain wasn’t on your list, but keeping him safe was. It may be shown differently and he may not understand it now, but over time, he will.

“Jeno, you’ll find someone better out there. Someone with their whole life ahead of them, who’ll love you for everything that makes you who you are.” Repetitive punches in your guts urged you to barf at your half-lie, but you held it in.

“Why are you pushing me away? What happened to taking risks, (Y/N)?” Jeno interrogated, taking your hands in his hands again. They unconventionally quivered, like his lips. Jeno has never cried in front of anyone, not even when he was younger. Though for you, he just might. “Am I not worth it for you?”

Dear heavens, he was wrong. You internally screamed that, but you can’t let your selfishness seize the night. As Athena said, you had to wake up from your dream. “Committing to you was my biggest risk of them all, Jeno. Everything else that went along with it, I don’t regret it one bit. But time’s really up for us, and we must resume our normal duties.”

“I can’t lose you, (Y/N).”

“You never will, Jeno.”

He crouched lower to meet your height, his finger moving your head so you’d look at him back. Weakly enough, you did. “I want you to be a part of my normal life, angel.”

“I’ll always be here, you know. I’ll be standing in my usual spot upstairs, and you can drop by whenever you can.” You pressed your lips, lifting your head to avoid incoming tears. Meanwhile, he began shedding a few. You’ve hurt him big time, and you’ll never forgive yourself for this. “I still have one wish, right?”

Jeno’s sorrow was beyond his capacity, leaning his forehead against yours to kiss it. No matter what he could say or do, he already knew it won’t be effective. You’re affirmative in your choices, yet he still wanted to challenge it. All he wanted to know was why you’re doing this.

“Let me walk you one last time to your section.”

The black night sky had remnants of blue, motioning that dawn was approaching. Other figures gave their goodbyes to Jeno earlier, cleaning up their areas before they pose. Though none of them anticipated such a cold atmosphere between you two, they could only spy on what was bound to happen.

“My last wish is for you to let me go, Jeno.” You avowed, blinking your eyes with faux positivity. Your hands patted his blazer so it wouldn’t crease. “I already have a role to fulfill here, and you’re on the way to yours, future architect.”

“I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Only tonight did he muster his courage to finally admit it to you after giving himself more time to analyze it. Timing was always crucial, and the badness of it showed.

Deep in your heart, you resonated the feeling. But it’ll make things more complicated, and it was the final thing you’ve wanted to occur. Someone had to be the strong one, and now, it should be you. With one more compassionate kiss on his lips, you stepped inside your section and readied your position.

“Goodbye, Lee Jeno.”

The sunshine brightened the room, and you’ve frozen to slumber again.

All Jeno could do was drop on his knees, sobbing over your rash actions. Unknown to him, a single tear left your eye as you posed.

Regardless of what status you were in, the pain of it all remained.

Jeno spent most of his semestral break with his friends to travel or whatnot, trying to forget it all. Even if he aced all his finals, his efforts felt like nothing if he never had you by his side to celebrate.

The sting over his short-lived romance with you never diminished the slightest, no one whom he could express his pain about it to especially when Renjun drank the memory wipe potion that Athena initially left for Jeno by his desk.

Forget it all, and live a peaceful life. You have so much potential, my mentee.

- Athena

Perhaps this was the same thing Junmyeon drank all those years ago, but unlike him, he didn’t have the guts to. He still wanted another chance.

So every day since the new semester began, he spent every afternoon break at your section. He’ll be seated by the bench, doing his assignments and talking about his day while sometimes stealing a glance of your figure. Some habits don’t change.

He never got sick of the same smile you exemplified, falling even more for you. He’ll often wonder what you’ve been up to.

What are your new sketches?

Are you taking care of Mochi well?

Have you apologized to Sanghoon yet?

Speaking of him, he surprisingly scooted over to Jeno’s side. This was the first time Jeno met the man, and politely enough greeted him. Sanghoon interviewed the boy, asking all sorts of questions that Jeno had every answer to. The biggest change that Sanghoon noticed since he left was your personality. You no longer bite, but treat everyone kindly without bias. You’re always active to help him out in cleaning the lobby, and you don’t go easily defensive.

Once he found out that Jeno was the reason for that, he was overjoyed at the start and wanted to meet him some way. You were a tough cookie, but now you relaxed. That was all that mattered to him, hoping to know more about him from you. That was until Diana stepped in and told him everything that happened. Mostly, the bad.

Playfulness eventually bore love. The last time you fell in love was in the 80s and Junmyeon pushed you away, he recalled. This time, you’re pushing Jeno away because you simply agreed with Athena’s points.

This wasn’t right, but it wasn’t his place to interfere.

But then again, he finally caught Jeno for the first time today and this time, he was open to hearing his side of the story. Lessen his misery too.

“No matter how stubborn she is, she loves you.” He advised him, bringing out one of your full sketchbooks. As Jeno opened it, the majority of the portraits were him. Sleeping, smiling, laughing, you drew him from every minor detail you could spot like the mole near his eye and his crescent eyes.

A handsome face I would never get sick until the end of time. Someone I want to wake up to every day in the morning if it weren’t for that plate.

- (Y/N)

Towards the end, a sketch of a house unfolded. The interior was a fusion of modernity and old royal design due to its white walls, wide space, and the placing of less furniture, plus an open backyard. There’s another tiny comment on the side from you.

I was right. Joining our varying designs together is pretty. Maybe Jeno and I could live in a house like this one day.

- (Y/N)

If you loved him so much, why did you let him go then when you had all these plans with him? Even if he tried to understand, he just didn’t.

“Don’t give up just yet when she told you to.”

“Are you just saying this or something?”

“Well, Princess Diana passed this message on but after everything, I believe that she’s right.” Sanghoon gave his opinion, but Jeno was reluctant to accept it.

“I never got a proper explanation why she suddenly changed her mind, Sanghoon.” He ranted, raking his hand through his hair from puzzlement. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sanghoon pitied him, having the upper hand and questioning himself whether to reveal the truth. However, since this boy took the job, he’s succumbed to secrecy. Without any transparency, it could drive someone mad. He’s too young for that, so Sanghoon breathed in defeat and placed his hand on Jeno’s shoulder.

“Promise me you won’t be mad when I tell you because I was when I found out; almost screamed even.”

Jeno nodded, listening to whatever Sanghoon had to say.

Of all people, he never would’ve expected Athena to do such a brash thing. Someone he respected and trusted, only to betray him by doing something she believed was good for all. Except it wasn’t, and it ended up hurting you all these years. The woman he loved, now he’s a clearer understanding of why you did what you did. Yet, it can’t fix his excruciation.

Heartbroken was an understatement; he had no one to rely on. With Sanghoon, he finally had a proper breakdown. The older man could only comfort his quietly, picturing him like one of his sons going through a hard time in school. But if it involves the heart, it’ll take more time to recover.

“You’re always the one adjusting, Jeno. But I think this time, you’re the one who needs space.”

A Year and a Half Later

“Jeno Lee!!!” Jaemin roughly wallowed his best friend in a hug when he arrived in their dorm room for the first time in a long time. “You dyed your hair blonde again!”

Renjun, who was behind the two of them, only rolled his eyes as he helped carry Jeno’s bags. “God damn it, Jaemin! You’re supposed to be helping me first!”

“I know, but give me a few seconds! I’m just happy our group is back together!”

Jeno laughed at his friends’ annoying yet silly dynamics, giddy to be back home. For a year, Jeno spent his 3rd year of university in Rome, Italy after one of his professors brought up to him about a scholarship program there for his course. At the time where he needed a change of scenery, he sent his application form and got interviewed.

Acing it, he had the opportunity to fly across the world to study and travel. His English skills surely improved, even picking up Italian words along the way due to a required class for it. He studied the history of different locations and how they were built.

He also went on field trips almost every day if it weren’t for the Italian students assigned to tour him around, academic and non-academic. Nights he spent on drinking wine on the rooftop of his dorm with them, screaming his complaints in the world with them.

It didn’t hit him that his stay was reaching its end until he submitted his final plate. His goodbye party didn’t even feel like one, but a see you later in the next few years after he becomes a licensed architect with money. His goal of it felt more realistic, motivating him to excel in his remaining years in university.

After unpacking half of his things, he was reminded of an email from one of the head professors, who requested another copy of his confidential documents from the Italian university he went to as soon as he’s back on campus.

He raced to the department with a folder of them and luckily encountered the said professor. Handing it to him, this professor questioned how he was and what experiences he gained from the trip. With excitement, Jeno spoke all sorts of tales from his adventures, highlighting how determined he was now to be an architect.

“That’s great to hear, Jeno!” He celebrated, checking on his watch, and widened his eyes. Frantic at his colliding schedules, he asked Jeno for a favor. It turned out that at the same time as his emergency meeting, he’s supposed to tour the new transferee student around campus.

“Only if you have time, Jeno! I could always ask another student, plus you just came back and need rest.”

“It’s not like I left for a decade, sir. No worries, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, bless your soul.” He put his hands together in prayer position, bowing back and forth with gratitude. “Wait, she’s right outside! Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

Jeno nodded, exiting right through the department doors. This girl had her back turned, inspecting her surroundings. She wore a black and white tweed blazer that matched with her skirt, black high heeled boots, and a black handbag. She must be a foreigner, Jeno thought.

“Excuse me, are you the transferee in the department of Architecture?”

Jeno didn’t brace himself for the surprise he’d face once this girl reacted to him calling her out. Her face was one he could never forget, no matter how many times he told himself to. The same face he convinced his heart to stop beating for, yet it lied.

This radiant face was none other than yours.

Jeno almost dropped his phone. He tried his best to hold on to your promise, but he failed. It was the main reason he studied abroad; to forget and focus on his career path. So the least thing he could’ve done was to study hard for his dream career.

Just a glimpse of you projected back every single memory you’ve had together. Beautiful yet heart-wrenching, he kept his emotions to himself.

You even wore the rose necklace he got you. Could it be?

“It’s been a while, Lee Jeno.” You took the metaphorical scissors to cut the tension, trying to contain the crushing feelings. The faculty center was a public place, yet it’s like the two of you were on the main stage.

“Do you remember me?” Astounded, you nodded. Every single detail.

Jeno could’ve ran away, but didn’t. He could’ve left you hanging, but didn’t. He can no longer count how many times you’ve appeared in his dreams, only to be disappointed when morning comes to not have you in his arms. He took one step closer, taking his time.

“How do you know me?”

“You’re the boy whom I helped with his assignment, argued with me over Romeo and Juliet,” You mimicked his move, making you one step nearer to him. “And most of all, the boy I once gave my entire heart to.”

Another step, leaving a few inches between the two of you. His heart palpitated without caffeine. What if he was napping in his dorm again? It was all surreal. “Is it really you, (Y/N)?”

Hearing your name from his lips lowered your guard, you pleased him with a hopeful grin. “I’d be dust by now if I didn’t drink Circe’s potion, right?”

That’s where Jeno unchained himself from his emotions. He engulfed in a warm hug, one that has no plans to let go when his chin planted on your shoulder. You returned the gesture, dropping all your worries away along with your bag and papers as your arms snaked through his neck.

You knew you had to part ways for a while after everything, though you were unsure how he’d feel about it. You recalled every time he visited you after his job ended up until his intense chat with Sanghoon, where he bawled his heart out. You couldn’t take it anymore after trying to stay strong, crying as soon as you woke up that night.

All your fellow figures could do was soothe you down like before to the best of their abilities, yet this time, it was unsuccessful. You’re filled with misery, realizing later how much of a big mistake you’ve made.

You’ve isolated yourself again for a while, but less rudeness and more silence. It was until Circe visited you. She doesn’t like getting involved with drama, though now was different. She, alongside Hera and Aphrodite, couldn’t withstand you tolerating the heartbreak again. So they went behind Athena’s back on this one time and created a potion together just for you. But with a compromise.

“This potion can turn you into a human. However, there’s only a 10% chance you’ll regain all your memories from this place.”

“So I’ll forget everyone and him?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You’re about to shoo her away, not in the mood to do something drastic as that. But Circe grabbed your arm again. “I strongly believe that if you and he meant to be, then there will come a time these past memories will suddenly surge at you.”

“Must I need to forget to live properly?”

You’re stubborn, and Circe expected it. “You’ve broken so many golden rules, (Y/N), so it must be done. I’ve gone against Athena for this potion, and rarely have I done that. So rather than wallowing up in misery, you should focus on yourself. Do what makes you happy because this place is trapping you from every great thing out there.”

Those were the word that the actual (Y/N) (Y/L/N) lived by, nevertheless, you’re unique from her. You built a separate identity from her. “But Jeno-”

“At the right time, (Y/N). Pull yourself together and do all the things you’ve dreamt of before he came into the picture. I just know he loves you that much, and that he will wait for you.”

That same night, you gathered all your senses and drank it. The transition was fast as lightning speed, and behold, you were like a new person. You’re back in London, with a family that closely resembled your former one; only 3 older siblings, making you the youngest. You also had a new set of memories, from childhood until your adult years.

From (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you became (Y/N) Edwards.

It took one drunken night out with your university friends for the unlikely surge of old memories to speedily hit through your intoxicated state. Way beyond a dream, you’ve dropped your shot glass and broke down in the bathroom of your dorm room. You left something unaccomplished, and you had to do something before it’s too late.

Thus, you rushed to Seoul thanks to your parents’ support as they agreed that exploring outside your home country was a great experience. The only excuse you gave to your friends for the sudden transfer was you finding a new calling.

Sure, studying abroad was an exciting thing but you’re more determined to reunite with him. Even if this encounter was unforeseen, it was bound to happen one day. It so turned out that you had the same major in your former university and this new one.

Head to toe, you remembered everything.

“I’m so sorry I took so long.” You cradled your head on his chest, unaware of how your new life left Jeno so troubled.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Jeno tightened his grip, scared of releasing you again. Those two years felt like a breath of fresh air and a punch in the gut. “I tried to live up to your last wish, but I really can’t.”

“I want to take that wish back, Jeno. I wasn’t thinking right and only ended putting you through so much.”

“Oh, angel. I slowly understood why you did it.” Before he got too fragile, he softened his grip on you and showed his face again to you. He wanted a better look at his pretty girl, his fingers brushing strands of your hair behind your ear. Heart-fluttering, you bit your bottom lip. “What would you want to wish for instead?”

“Instead of you letting me go, I wish you could take me back and love me again. I can’t undo the past, but I’d still like to think I’ve tried my best.” That was the only wish you could ever think of. As huge as it was, it was something he may not accept. Yet you gave it a go, risking it all. “I don’t deserve you at all, Jeno.”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N).” One of his hands grabbed yours, putting it on his cheek. Cupping it, “I’ve never stopped loving you, you know.”

Oh, love. An all-too familiar emotion that either makes or breaks you. Of all the times you could’ve said those words, you held back, especially that wretched night you two broke it off. Although you showed it, being able to say it to someone felt more empowering.

This was finally the chance you’ve unconsciously waited for.

“I’m stupid for not saying this sooner.”

“What is it?”

With intimate eye contact, you drowned in the comfort of his brown orbs. You trusted him then, and you trusted him now. “I love you, Lee Jeno.”

Secretly, Jeno anticipated for the day you’d say those meaningful 3 words. Just like you, he showed more affection through actions than words. He only admitted when he lost you, and never would he do the same mistake again. If he felt that the love was strongly present, he will say it aloud.

“I love you still, (Y/N).” His arm around your waist tugged you in further. “I loved you as (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I will continue to love you as (Y/N) Edwards.”

He peeked on your ID earlier, but regardless, he stood by his truth. You’re still the same (Y/N).

Finally, he closed the limited space between your lips. The memories of your past romance replayed in sync of every touching kiss, popping one leg up like in the movies. The Princess Diaries, specifically. Like in the museum from your unbearable parting, one warm tear freed itself down your cheek.

The sweetness of being reunited with you again beat the torturous wait of Jeno. Time really made your hearts grow fonder. As everyone said, if the love between two people is real, then it’ll find its way back to each other.

The world must be on your side too because no professor called you two out on your public display of affection. Jeno pecked your lips one time before stepping away, picking up the things you dropped.

“Now come on, I have to tour you around as instructed.”

You stomped on your feet, rolling your eyes from being left hanging. He’s still the same tease from before. “After that kiss though, I would’ve thought we could reschedule it.”

“No can do, Edwards.” Passing over your things, he wrapped one arm around you as he escorted you out of the building. The university was huge, with more buildings and green fields surrounded everywhere. “Left or right? There are a lot of places you missed out on all those years.”

“Point taken. Then you lead the way, my love.”

[lovelyirony]

Rody x Tony = domestic crack (names are hard)

no worries about the names! I just hope you like this one. 

Tony doesn’t always like going to any hardware stores with Rhodey. Don’t get him wrong, he loves hardware stores. He likes finding new tools, seeing what improvements he can make, and getting gifts for his husband. 

But he doesn’t like going with Rhodey most of the time. 

Rhodey takes about two hours. Just looking. He likes to investigate each and every tool, think and discuss about what they should get for the garden, and look at everything as if he’s seeing it for the first time. 

“Come on, dear,” Tony says. “We definitely don’t have all day to look at...oh my god, are you looking at different types of nails?” 

“We might need some different ones soon!” he defends, dropping a couple back into their box. 

“We don’t.” 

“Didn’t we buy a new painting or something?” 

“We bought a new frame for the new painting because you were, and I quote, ‘tired of hanging paintings all the time’.” 

“I don’t think I phrased it like that,” Rhodey mutters. 

“You totally did!” Tony sing-songs. “Now come on, it’s nearly lunchtime and I was promised that we could get hot dogs.” 

“Fine, but not ice cream.” 

(Tony has a coupon. They get ice cream.) 

-

Christmas decorations are a similar idea, although after Tony retires officially from being both hero and businessman, he turns into a whole other monster. 

“I absolutely refuse to have our place look like anyone else’s,” Tony fumes. 

“We live in a mansion,” Rhodey says flatly. “That we designed. Together. It already doesn’t look like everyone else’s.” 

“I’m talking decorations,” Tony says, making a noise in his throat that usually means ‘I’ll bitch with Pepper about this later’. Rhodey just rolls his eyes. 

“So are you sure you want to build flying reindeer?” 

“It’ll be a super realistic hologram. Of course I want to do it!” 

“I think the light-up deer we bought last year will be fine, Tony. Besides, isn’t that more than five deer or something? That’s a lot to work on.” 

“I can make it work!” 

“No,” Rhodey says. 

“Fine. But you’re putting them up yourself.” 

“I’ll put them up by myself along with Vision, who will get my hot cocoa only.” 

“Fine, I’ll get up,” Tony grumbles. “But only for your magical cocoa. Ugh. The things I do for you.” 

Rhodey smiles, kissing his forehead as he gets up. 

“Thanks, honey.” 

-

“Oh my god we haven’t gone on a picnic in years,” Tony says fondly, laughing as Rhodey digs out a dusty picnic basket from the attic. 

“We should.” 

“Yeah, sure. Some time soon.” 

“What about now?” Rhodey asks, eyes twinkling. 

Tony looks at him, grinning. 

“Is that why you went to the store again? You knew we’d find this, didn’t you?” 

“...maybe. Come on, it’ll be fun! Just like our honeymoon.” 

“You mean when I had such a bad cold and you were going to deploy in three days, so we had to spend it on a rooftop of a shitty motel?” Tony jokes as Rhodey laughs hysterically. 

“It wasn’t that shitty.” 

“The honeymoon suite was closed because the ceiling was made of asbestos.” 

“Okay, okay,” Rhodey concedes. 

“But this time we won’t be on a rooftop of a bad motel, and we won’t have questionable products from the convenience store. It’ll be a real nice picnic. Blanket and everything.” 

Tony smiles. 

“I wouldn’t really care if we ate at a motel as long as I was with you.” 

“Aw, you’re so gross,” Rhodey teases. “Imagine being affectionate. Couldn’t be me.” 

Tony rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll get the fruit and drinks together, you get everything else. We’ll meet at the door.” 

-

Dum-E has been putting on very dramatic fashions recently. They’re thinking he saw Pride and Prejudice one too many times, and now wants his own Mr. Darcy. 

“You are too dramatic,” Rhodey says. “I don’t know why you and your father watch that movie so much.” 

“You’re just jealous of Mr. Darcy,” Tony sniffs. 

“I am not,” Rhodey says. “At least I kind of got my head out of my ass when it came to you.” 

“Your own sister had to point out that you had a crush on me,” Tony says flatly. 

“And? Better late than never!” 

Dum-E waves his arm erratically at them as if to say “you two aren’t the focus of the conversation!” 

“I think he wants a partner,” Tony says. 

“You have your brothers,” Rhodey says weakly. 

Dum-E just pushes his father’s arm in a frustrated matter. 

“Oh, don’t get that tone with him,” Tony chides. “We’ll see what we can do.” 

He sends a shrug to Rhodey, who shrugs back in solidarity. 

Dum-E reluctantly goes to his charging station while Tony and Rhodey fret. 

“I don’t really want to build another bot for romantic purposes,” Tony says. “I think he should meet people!” 

“You mean other robots?” Rhodey asks. 

“Exactly!” 

Rhodey thinks, before getting out his phone and opening the email account. 

“...aren’t you judging that robot competition in Boston in a week?” 

“Oh my god, I’ll just bring Dum-E with me! We can bring all of them with us! They’ll meet friends!” 

Rhodey says, already feeling a migraine coming on. 

“You’re gonna have to let them have control over the music.” 

“A little Chopin won’t hurt anybody.” 

“A little won’t, but Butterfingers like a lot of Chopin,” Rhodey says. “And U will want Led Zeppelin, and Dum-E wants...is he still in his pop music phase?” 

“He’s moved to alternative pop,” Tony sighs. 

Rhodey nods. 

“I’ll get the jet all fueled up and ready for the three of them. I’ll also get the road trip snacks.” 

“Is it really a road trip if we’re flying?” 

“Do you want to have three kids in a car to Boston?” 

“...fair point.” 

(Dum-E does meet a wonderful bot named Cass. She’s delightfully sassy, also has one arm, and enjoys chasing him around.) 

[bubblesuga]

Counting Stars

Summary|| Min Yoongi is a well versed piano player and musical prodigy. His passion lies in song-writing, but he had yet to tell anyone that until you showed up one day, giving him the confidence he needs to prove himself to the world. 

Word Count: 8,006

Warnings: smut, cock warming(?), oral (both m and f receiving), slight exhibitionism

Part 2 of my college!au

Melodic piano music played through out the hall, a spotlight shone directly on center stage. A gorgeous white piano with a teal-haired man dancing across the keys echoed off the empty concert hall walls. 

“No!” The piano was suddenly cut off and Yoongi groaned, slamming his fingers onto the keys in a mess of stark contrast to the earlier pretty sounds. “A-flat Major, Yoongi. A-flat Major.” He spoke to himself, repositioning himself at the beginning of the song. He squinted at the sheet music, shaking his head and cracking his fingers. 

Again, he repeated the beautiful song. And again. And again. 

“Fuck!” He tossed his sheet music, groaning in the process when he realized it wasn’t stapled. Every time, without fail, his fingers stuttered at the crescendo. It was like they suddenly stopped working, and every thing he had studied through out his entire life was left in a puddled mess on the floor while a frustrated tear slipped carelessly down his cheek. 

“Chopin.” He heard a voice say, breaking him out of his frustration. In the front row, you sat carefully listening to every note he played. When you were walking passed the music hall, you couldn’t help yourself but come in and listen to the gorgeous song. You recognized it immediately, and although you were a violinist, you always had an affinity for for the piano. 

“Uh, yeah,” Yoongi responded, swallowing and wiping away the lone tear, “h- how did you get in here?” 

He watched you smile, “Through that door.” 

Your body turned and pointed to the back door, one people would use for sound booth entrance. You turned back to him, spotting him in casual clothing. It was rare to see a music major in anything other than a tux or dress, but he sat clad in a beanie and white t-shirt, blue torn jeans snaking their way down his long legs. 

“Play again.” You encouraged him, standing from your chair and flattening your dress. You set your violin case down and took the large steps up to the stage. Yoongi watched for a moment in awe while you quickly refiled the sheet music and set it perfectly in front of Yoongi. 

“I can’t get it right, I’m gonna fail the end of semester assessment.” Yoongi stated in a low voice, his disappointment dragging out in his words. He cleared his throat, watching you while you sat beside him. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly relayed this information on a stranger, yet you seemed so open. So, welcoming. He couldn’t help himself.

“If you relax your palms,” you reached forward and lined his fingers up with the correct keys, “but keep your wrist firm, your fingers won’t shake. You’re holding your palm flat and not allowing the music to flow through you.” 

Yoongi couldn’t help but scoff, “Let the music flow through me?” 

You nodded, your face falling serious, “You can’t get it right if you don’t feel the emotion of the song.” 

Yoongi sighed, adjusting his beanie. For a moment, he was hesitant to keep playing again. He needed to feel the emotion of the song, but Nocturne was so difficult. He felt lonely, almost. The perfect mix of happy and sad, as if Chopin couldn’t pick an emotion for the day. You sat so close to him, watching his fingers carefully. Finally, he began moving across the keys yet again. 

“There ya go,” you encouraged, “you’re getting it.” 

Yoongi felt his wrist falter for a moment, but fixing his stance quickly and building up the crescendo. Nervously, he watched his fingers hit the first notes successfully. A small smile stretched across his face when he realized this was the furthest he had gotten without messing up. “Yes!” You cheered, turning the page for him. 

The crescendo ended, and the end was just like the beginning. Yoongi easily played the outro, his shoulders visibly more relaxed than before. You closed your eyes, inhaling and listening to the beautiful melody. Yoongi took his foot off the pedal, the piano drowning out softly into the ending. 

“Nocturne is a classic.” You stood, your heels clacking against the wooden stairs while you made your way back down to your violin and book bag. 

“Hey where are you going?” Yoongi called after you once he realized you were already halfway up to the sound booth. You turned back to him, “I have to get to a lecture, I’m already late. Thanks for playing for me!” 

Yoongi confusedly watch you walk out of the door, turning back to the piano with his brows furrowed. “Did I just dream that?” 

He checked his watch and sighed, picking up the sheet music and shoving it haphazardly into his bag. He walked his way backstage and out of the auditorium, into the bustling hallway of his college.

“Yoongi! Wait up!” Jungkook called Yoongi’s name, rushing through the crowd and throwing his arm around his older friend. Yoongi gave the younger a small smile, “What’s going on?” 

“How’s your song thingy coming along?” Jungkook’s eyes were bright, so full of youth that made Yoongi jealous of when he used to be like that. Yoongi couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever feel like he was young again, or if he would enjoy life as much as he did as a freshman.

“It’s going okay, I finally managed to play through without messing up,” He shrugged, guiding Jungkook out of the building, down the large steps and towards the literature building, “how’s your adventure of living the college lifestyle going?” 

“I’ve successfully been to three frat parties and only got kicked out of two.” He gave Yoongi a wide grin, not quite meeting his eyes. 

Yoongi stopped in front of the doors of the literature building, a small chuckle bubbling in his throat, “Go to class, you can’t throw away your tuition just yet.” 

“No plans to,” Jungkook hugs Yoongi firmly, “see you later.” 

Yoongi shook his head with a smile, adjusting his back pack and making his way to his car. 

~*~*~

The following week, Yoongi carried his tired body through the halls of the music building to once again listen to a professor yell at students for the same things every day. He rubbed his eyes, sucking in a breath of air and walking passed an empty classroom. 

Almost empty. 

As Yoongi’s ears perked at the sound of a girl’s voice, he stopped and listened carefully. 

“I’m begging you, just this one extension.” He recognized your voice from last week, the same cadence echoing through out the room. Except this time, you seemed distressed. 

“I can’t give you an extension. That would be unfair to the rest of the students.” Professor Coogan. Yoongi recognized his voice anywhere, he had him last year for his music theory class. Either way, he knew that he was a bitch of a teacher and you were definitely not getting him to budge. 

“Deem it special circumstances.” You argued, your voice almost in a whine. Yoongi couldn’t help but peak into the window.  

Coogan sighed, finally looking away from his papers, “And what exactly are those special circumstances?” 

“I’m. . . uhm. . .” Yoongi chuckled quietly your stutter, “I’m your favorite student?” You tried, your voice unsure but your stance somewhat confident.  

Coogan stuck his tongue in his cheek, throwing off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’ll give you another week. I need that report on my desk by next Monday otherwise you fail my class and I won’t allow you to retake it next semester.” 

Harsh, Yoongi thought.

You let out a sigh, “Thank you, Sir.” 

“Get out of my classroom, you’re taking up my only freetime today.” Coogan groaned, then you turned on your heel and towards the door. Your face was victorious and Yoongi pulled away quickly to avoid getting seen, tripping in the process and dropping his papers everywhere. 

The door opened and Yoongi sighed, looking down with a red face and beginning to pick up various papers. 

You leaned down beside him, grabbing papers, “Ah, so we meet again.” 

You flattened and organized the papers to the best of your ability, “You know, you don’t have to throw papers to talk to me.” 

“I didn’t throw them, I tripped.” Yoongi explained, taking some of the papers from your hands while avoiding your eyes. 

You leaned lower, reading some of the words written across the page in scrawly handwriting. You picked the paper out from under a textbook, sitting down against the wall of the empty hallway. Yoongi was too anxious to notice your paused movements, your eyes reading down the page while you took in some of the words. 

“Were the petty arguments the start, the moment I became heavier than you,” you read aloud, finally catching Yoongi’s attention. He lurched forward to rip the paper from your hands but you turned away, “maybe it was greed trying to match myself to you.” 

Yoongi held his hand out expectantly, it shaking slightly, “Please, that’s private.” 

You turned back to him, “These are gorgeous, what class are you writing these for?” 

He was finally able to snatch the paper from your hands, shoving the paper into his bag. “Not for a class.”

He stood quickly, turning to walk away but you were quick to follow. His speed increased while you called for him to wait. As he rounded the corner, he spotted his classroom’s door shutting. 

“Fuck.” He groaned, turning to a bench and plopping down. He rubbed his eyes, tossing his head back. You finally caught up to him, sliding beside him on the bench. You rested your hands on your knees, watching his fingers anxiously tap on his thigh. 

“What’s got you down, bub?” You question, his hand stretching out once he realized you were next to him. 

“Bub?” He turned to you with a raised eyebrow. He was trying to ignore the embarrassment he felt at you reading his lyrics. He hadn’t yet had anyone read them, and the fact that the first person to do so was a fluke with a stranger had him nervous.

“Well I don’t know your name, what else am I supposed to call you?” 

“Yoongi.” 

“Okay, Yoongi. I’m (Y/N). What’s got you down?” Your face was too kind for this to be a joke. He wasn’t sure what made you so interested in him, or why you followed him, yet you weren’t going away. 

Of course, Yoongi had to admit he didn’t necessarily want you to go away. 

“I’m missing class right now. My teacher locks the door at a certain point.” Yoongi explained, suddenly being a touch bit more okay with it than previously once he met your pretty eyes. 

You giggled, “That’s dumb. Come get breakfast with me then.” 

You stood quickly, reaching your hand out towards Yoongi. He studied your hand for a moment, glancing between his classroom down the hall and you. Initially, once he saw the door closed he was going to head back to his apartment and give up for the day. Sure, he only had a couple morning classes and an afternoon lecture but he suddenly felt drained. 

“I don’t know, I think I’m-” 

“I didn’t ask,” you stated, grabbing his hand and pulling him up to the best of your ability, “besides, who wouldn’t want an excuse to eat too many carbs right in the morning?” 

Yoongi looked at your interlocked hands, knowing he was sweating at your touch. He pulled away and played it off like he needed to scratch his arm. He liked the way you stood so tall despite not being very tall at all, confidence radiating off of you. You were certainly different from most music students, especially violinists. “I’ll go, but only if we don’t go somewhere on campus.” 

“Penny Anne’s it is, then.” You grinned, gesturing for him to follow you out the front doors. 

The walk wasn’t long, and when you arrived you were pretty much seated right away. Yoongi spotted Hoseok in his uniform, helping a table nearby. He wondered if he would be sat in his section, and sure enough in moments Hoseok was nearby to take your order. 

“Hi welcome to Penny Anne’s- Yoongi? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Hoseok was cut off by the surprise of seeing his friend. He looked between you and Yoongi, confusion evident in his face. 

Yoongi sighed, Hoseok has always had such an expressive face. Sometimes it wasn’t such a good thing. “Uh, yeah. I decided to skip today.” 

“Oh?” Hoseok slid next to Yoongi and stuck his hand out to you. You shook it, “I’m his music buddy.” 

“And I’m his favorite buddy,” Hoseok teased, earning a small pinch on his knee from Yoongi under the table and a soft ‘ow’ from his lips, “what can I get you guys to drink?” 

“I’ll have water.” You answered. 

“Usual.” Yoongi grumbled, now embarrassed by his friend. There was no doubt that Yoongi thought you were cute, and the fact that every little thing made his cheeks a deep crimson red cemented his thoughts in place. 

Ugh. Who were you to show up out of nowhere and help him perfect a song he had been trying to get for down for days? Or compliment his lyrical ability out of nowhere? Of course he would like the first woman to see his work. Even if it was an accident. Conflicted, he soldiered through his thoughts and tried to ignore the fact that you even looking at him made his knees weak. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Hoseok said, taking Yoongi’s short answer as a means to leave. 

You tilted your head, watching Yoongi stare out the window at the water dripping down on the window pane. His ability to look almost like a model even with tousled hair and a frown on his face fascinated you. 

When you first saw him playing piano, your mouth became dry immediately. You’d never seen someone like him play so elegantly, even when he made a mistake. Hearing his music from the hall seemed like he was beckoning you, it made you late to class but you didn’t care because you had to know who was playing. 

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” You finally speak, watching Yoongi tear his eyes away from the parking lot. He swallowed, “Not with people I’ve just met.” 

“Well how are we supposed to get to know each other then?” you leaned on your elbows, Yoongi’s eyes flickering down to the V cut in your dress, “So would you want to show me those lyrics of yours? You know, the whole song?” 

Yoongi shook his head, gnawing at the inside of his lip. 

Hoseok to the rescue, he plopped down your water and Yoongi’s coffee on the table. “Alright I’m just going out on a whim here, Yoongi- do you want the usual?” 

Yoongi looked up to his friend, giving him a straight smile and a nod. You told Hoseok what you wanted and he was quick to get away. 

You sniffled, clearing your throat and trying to wade through the awkwardness. “So why music?” 

He turned to you, and for the first time since you sat down, you saw his lips turn up in a genuine smile. He uncrossed his arms, leaning onto the table, “Music is versatile. It makes you feel emotions you never thought you would be able to comprehend. That, and my mother insisted I learn piano from a very young age.” 

You were happy you were finally getting somewhere with him. You felt like you had whiplash from his sudden ability to talk, but you weren’t complaining. 

“Music is very versatile, and with talents like yours, you could go far.” His face was red again at your compliment, “That’s my hope as well.” 

The conversation continued to flow easily, and finally you were getting somewhere with him. 

Yoongi felt odd, opening up to someone he’s barely talked to. However, your ability to snake your way around his thoughts was impressive to say the least. The two of you talked even through your food, staying for a while after, both forgetting about your respective classes. 

When Yoongi spotted Hoseok tapping his foot impatiently, he pulled out his wallet to pay for the bill. Hoseok snatched the check from the table and rang him up, and Yoongi decided it was probably time to head out. 

He walked you out, and the two of you split ways after exchanging phone numbers. He spotted your small smile while you headed towards your car, Yoongi having a significant pep in his step as opposed to a few hours earlier. 

When he made it back to his apartment, he checked his phone to see he already had a text from you. 

‘coffee tomorrow? meet me at the brew house x’

Giddy, Yoongi bit his lip and responded. 

‘see you there’

~*~*~

It was unspoken at this point, every other day you two would meet for coffee then walk into the music building together. Your conversations consisted mostly of current musical artists you listened to, or random things you had seen through out campus the day prior. 

Conversation came easy, and for that you were grateful. 

A few times, rarely, Yoongi would talk about his home life. Say he misses his parents and brother, but wouldn’t delve too much into it. You didn’t pry either, because you knew Yoongi wasn’t the type to exactly spill all of his emotions everywhere. You had always been more upfront with your emotions which was a driving force for passed relationships, but Yoongi was a different story. 

It was no secret that you had a crush on him. You had an inkling that he liked you as well, seeing as he had yet to get sick of your coffee ritual. He was always happy to see you even though he wasn’t much of a morning person which you learned on your second coffee date.

You learned of his friends, one being his roommate and the others he had become close to very quickly. He said they were his brothers, in a sense, and he felt almost protective over all of them despite not being the oldest. 

Slowly, you were learning just who Min Yoongi was, and with every word you felt yourself falling just a bit further into the deep abyss that was his dark brown eyes. 

When you walked into the coffee shop, Yoongi was already sat at the booth in the corner. In front of him were two coffees, his phone in hand. 

You walked up to him, covering his eyes and taking his phone from his hand. 

Yoongi protested but you slipped on the opposite side of the booth. Once he saw you he let out an uneasy breath. 

“No phones at coffee time.” You scolded playfully, setting both his and your phones upside down in the center. Your lips wrapped around the straw sucking in the iced coffee and giving a happy sigh, “there’s nothing like iced coffee on a cold spring day.” 

Yoongi gave you his famous gummy smile, looking down while you stirred in the caramel on the sides of the cup. You both sat in a comfortable silence. Having seen each other yesterday, the only thing he had to talk about was the new song he had been working on. 

Of course, every time he brought up his lyrics, you insisted on reading them. Yoongi never let you though, because despite your praise he was still... nervous. Way beyond nervous, as he hadn’t even shared his lyrics with his close friends. 

His fingers tapped on the side of his coffee cup, before finally pulling his bag from the floor and pulling out a binder. 

“Ah, no more loose papers?” You teased, seeing the sleek black binder sitting in the center of the table. 

Yoongi chuckled, flipping open and pulling out a paper that was tucked neatly in the pocket on the side. You looked down, your eyes widening as you saw ‘First Love’ scrawled across across the top, a strong underline with a question mark to the side. 

Yoongi looked down, “I, uhm... I figured since you liked what you read before that maybe you’d like to see something new. Even if you read the first one without my permission.” 

You bit your lip, reaching your hand out expectantly. Yoongi gave you the paper, still unsure whether he actually wanted to show you the song. It was already too late, and soon he was watching you warily while your eyes scanned the paper to a fully written song. 

I remember that moment Way taller than my height The brown piano that guided me I looked up to you, I yearned for you  When I touched you with my small finger

You bit your thumbnail while you read over the words, soaking in every syllable. 

Yoongi wasn’t sure at what point you started to tear up, but when he finally had the guts to look you in the eyes he saw tears collecting so slightly in the corners. He bit his lip, watching you look up and down from the paper to him. He was tempted to reach forward, to wipe the single tear that had managed to slip down your cheek. 

You beat him to it though, setting the paper down and sniffling while gently wiping away your tear, “Wow.” 

“That bad, huh?” He bit his lip, avoiding your eyes yet again. 

Yoongi debated for a few weeks whether or not to show you. Ever since you walked into the music hall, he hasn’t been able to get you off his mind. He wanted to impress you but he didn’t know how to take you crying into your coffee over some words on a page. 

You reached forward, gripping his chin in your hand and forcing him to look up, “You are the most talented song-write I have ever met.” 

“Really?” He tried to ignore the feeling your fingers on his skin gave him. Much like when you held his hand in the music hall, he felt his palms begin to sweat. 

You nodded, reading the song once again, “Your sixth verse is beyond amazing and the emotion I felt just reading these should tell you how much of an impact this gorgeous, gorgeous song could have. When can I hear you sing it?” 

“One adventure at a time,” Yoongi pleaded, grabbing the paper and sticking it back into the binder, “you’re lucky you even read this today.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in response, “well I love it. Thank you for letting me read it.” 

“You’re welcome.” He picked up his coffee, taking a sip as he felt his mouth go dry at the sound of your thanks. 

After a little bit more, the alarm on your phone when off, signaling you had about 20 minutes before your first lecture. Both of you stood up, walking out of the doors. Normally you’d split in separate ways, but Yoongi was surprised to feel your hand grip his and pull him with you. 

“Wait (Y/N) my car-” 

“I’ll drive you, don’t worry.” You grinned, pulling him towards your car. Given, the drive wasn’t long and the two of you could have walked but you wanted to spend as much time with Yoongi as you could.  

He opened the passenger door of your car, watching you toss a jacket towards the backseat before slipping in beside you. As you drove down the road, you felt your left leg begin to shake. At a red light, you saw his hand sitting on the arm rest in the center. His fingers gripped the end of it, tapping melodically to the song on the radio. 

You wanted so badly to hold his hand, you felt so comfortable around him that you felt like you were together, just without the physicality portion of the relationship. You wanted that physicality, and you wanted to be able to feel his hand rest on your thigh while he stroked your skin distractedly and held a conversation with his friends. 

A silent scoff fell from your lips while you pressed on the gas again, how could you be envisioning such a detailed relationship with Yoongi when you could barely get him to look into your eyes. 

Yoongi looked over at you with a raised brow, “Everything okay?” 

“Do you like me?” As the words came out of your mouth you desperately tried to swallow them again. 

Yoongi didn’t think much of the question, “Of course I do, I wouldn’t hang out with you if I didn’t.” 

“No, not like that,” fuck. You were too deep into it now, “like, like-like me?” 

It was Yoongi’s turn to scoff, “What are we, 12?” 

“Please don’t make me feel stupider than I already sound.” You pleaded, pulling into the parking lot in front of the music building. You turned off the car and saw the sun beginning to peak through the trees. “It was stupid, just ignore me.” 

You hopped out of your car quickly, grabbing your bag from the back seat and slamming the door before beginning your ascent up the stairs. Yoongi was quick to follow, calling after you much like you did when he was running to class. 

“Of course I fucking like you,” He stopped at the bottom of the steps, “why else would I show you my song?”

You turned around, squinting down at him and trying to ignore the looks Yoongi and you received from passerby. 

“I mean, fuck (Y/N), my knees tremble when I look at you,” Yoongi began to step up, “you make me so nervous and I’m never nervous. I wrote First Love and the first person I thought of showing was you.” 

Sheepishly, you looked down when he made it to the step you were on. His hand slid down your arm until it tugged your hand out of your pockets, holding it tightly in his, “Now the question is, how did you not know?” 

“You’re a bit of a walled off man, you can’t blame me for not picking up on it.” You sighed, feeling his thumb stroke your knuckles. 

“I’m a walled off man who likes the girl in front of him very, very much.” Yoongi finally grinned, that gummy grin that you came to know so well under the dim lights in the morning coffee shop. 

“Listen, uh...” there was that Yoongi again, the one who didn’t know how to phrase what he wanted to say unless it was in a song, “my friends and I are going to a bar this Saturday. Would be cool if you came along.” 

Again you found yourself tilting his chin to look up at you, “I’ll see you there big guy.” 

Then you walked into class, finally allowing the butterflies in your stomach to run wild. 

~*~*~

This was the first time you had gotten dressed up in a while, and for Yoongi. Sure it was nice to look nice for yourself but tonight, you wanted Yoongi to see you and not be able to talk his eyes off of you. 

So, the black smokey eye and short skirt was the look you envisioned the moment he asked you. He really had only seen you in your school clothes, and the fact that you found the perfect shirt to go along with your skirt meant that this night was going to be perfect. 

You hadn’t even kissed the man yet but you wanted his hands all over you. You stared into the floor length mirror, tilting your head at your reflection. The shirt was low cut, just enough to show off the right amount of cleavage to get Yoongi’s attention but not enough to be over doing it. You decided against a bra, and you were proud at how perky your boobs looked under the thin black material. 

The fishnet tights and mid-calf boots were the icing on the cake and soon you were out the door. 

The drive to the bar was short, your uber driver tried to make casual conversation but you were quick to shut him down by saying you were meeting a guy. 

The bar was loud, music blasting from the jukebox and you didn’t take long to realize you were the first one there. You rolled your eyes at your ability to be early to everything. You ordered a shot, downing it quickly and sitting on one of the bar stools. Quickly, you sent a text his way.

‘you almost here?’ 

‘be there soon, can’t find my keys and my roommate is going to the arcade’

You let out a small breath, deciding it best to order another drink to loosen you up. You hadn’t seen him since the beginning of the week, he insisted that he had to practice for his end of year test and you finished up the report that was due. You secretly hoped he hadn’t been scared off at the sudden confession of your feelings for each other. 

“Hey there pretty lady.” A man said from behind you, touching your shoulder. You whipped around in the chair, expecting to see Yoongi but instead spotting an older man with way too much facial hair. 

“Not interested.” You said, turning back around and sipping your drink. 

He leaned forward, “Good thing I didn’t ask if you were interested.” 

Abruptly, you saw Yoongi forcing his way through the crowd and slipping seamlessly in between you and the man. He snaked his arms around your waist, a feeling that was new but also welcoming. You had never hugged him before, so that in of itself was a pleasant surprise. So when he laid a soft, chaste kiss on your cheek, you know you would have collapsed had you not been sitting down. With his arms around you, you suddenly felt like nothing could harm you. That he wouldn’t let anything harm you.” 

“Hey baby,” he gave you a look before turning to the man, “I suggest you fuck off before this has to escalate.” 

The tone Yoongi used, speaking down to the man even though he was a good few inches shorter than him, caused electricity to jolt through your entire body. The man, defeated, turned away and began talking to another woman across the bar. 

Yoongi’s arms dropped from your waist which caused that earlier sense of protection to dissipate along with it. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t sure how else to get him to go away.” Yoongi’s face was red, his hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. 

“No, it’s okay,” you decided to grab his hands, placing them on on your hips while you slipped out of the chair, “I liked it.” 

His face was slightly surprised, making no effort to remove his hands. It was in that moment that he noticed your outfit, your usual mid-length skirts and nice blouses were nowhere to be found and his eyes scanned up and down your body. When he finally met your eyes again, “You’re killing me.” 

The smirk on your face was evident, “Oh? How so?” 

He hummed, “Very funny, you know what you’re doing.” 

“Little old me? I would never do anything of the sort.” You teased, Yoongi’s fingertips rubbing gently against your hot skin. You forgot you were in public, the fire in Yoongi’s eyes evident when you two began swaying softly to the music. 

You two continued to dance for a while, taking a few shots in between certain songs and talking easily. It was much more touchy than your previous ‘dates’. His hand was pretty much always on you in one way or another. Whether his hands grip your hips as you danced for his fingers trailing up and down your spine while he ordered you two more drinks, he was always on you. 

The alcohol was certainly beginning to show it’s presence, the look of lips becoming more and more tempting as his face became flushed with the multiple tequila shots the two of you took together. 

Without thinking too much about it, you leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss against his lips. Yoongi took a moment to respond, surprise taking over his body. He took a moment to respond, and you were tempted to pull away, embarrassed. Just as you were about to take your lips away, Yoongi finally began to kiss back. 

His lips moved against yours perfectly. When your hands held the back of his his neck, desperately pulling him in for more, he obliged. His tongue licked the seam of your lips, your mouth falling open without a second thought. Again, you two were the only ones in the bar as far as you were concerned.

Yoongi pulled away at the call of his name, breaking you out of your trance when you spotted a few people walking towards a table in the center of the bar. He gave you a small, lazy grin, his eyes clouded over with a mixture of alcohol and what you thought to be lust. Yoongi grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd, sitting you down beside him. 

“Alright we have Jimin, Jungkook, Hoseok, and Taehyung.” Yoongi introduced you to everyone, each boy taking your hand gratefully. You noticed Jimin staring off for a bit, your eyes trailing towards the jukebox where a girl resided. 

“I’m-” 

“We know your name,” Jungkook said, a beer in hand, “Yoongi won’t shut up about you.” 

Yoongi shot Jungkook a deathly glare, but you only smiled, grabbing his hand and stroking your thumb across the back. He looked at you, relaxing at your touch. 

You found it endearing, that despite the fact his tongue has explored every inch of your mouth mere moments ago, he was still embarrassed by his friend’s teasing. You also recognized Hoseok as your waiter at Penny Anne’s. 

Hoseok gave you a knowing smile, sending a wink your way while starting a conversation with everyone else at the table. 

Yoongi was finally in his element, surrounded by people he was comfortable around. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol that upped his confidence but he was loud, ecstatic at jokes being thrown around and his laughter bringing joy to your ears. 

“I could kick your ass at Mario Kart.” Yoongi said, about an hour into drinking with his hand never leaving your thigh. 

“Coming from a man who said video games are a waste of time! Please, you couldn’t use a joystick if you tried to.” Jungkook yelled back, the teasing nature of their relationship causing you to giggle. Everyone laughed together while Yoongi shrugged, seemingly unbothered by Jungkook’s insult.

You leaned your head on Yoongi’s shoulder, feeling yourself become more and more light and deciding it was best to cut yourself off before you started to take your top off in front of everyone. 

Even though you cut yourself off, you knew alcohol had always been a bit of an aphrodisiac for you. With Yoongi’s hand absentmindedly inching further and further up your thigh, you felt like you were going insane. 

“And they’ve arrived!” Yoongi shouted from beside you, staring at the doorway where two tall men entered. 

They both made their way to the table and Jimin rushed to the side of one of them. Yoongi had a lot of friend’s which surprised you as you knew he took schooling more seriously than socializing. 

You hadn’t contributed much to the conversations, as you felt yourself growing more hot and bothered as the night went on. Your legs tightened, Yoongi taking notice and slipping his hand a few inches further up. Resting at the top of your thigh and underneath your skirt, the tip of his middle finger stopped dangerously close to your inner thigh. 

You managed to lean to his ear, “Y- your hand is-” 

“Do you want me to stop?” He cut you off, whispering back to you and sending chills down your spine once again. 

Breathlessly, you glanced around and noticed nobody seemed to take notice to your lusty eyes. Yoongi was composed, a complete 180 from when you first met him. He liked this. He liked watching you struggle back a moan even though he had yet to touch you. 

To say he hadn’t thought about touching you from the moment he first met you would be a lie. After your hands rested on top of his in the music hall, he couldn’t help but imagine your hands wrapped delicately around his cock. When he kissed you earlier, it took everything in him to not take you on top of the bar in front of everyone. 

“No.” You finally said, and his fingers moved to your inner thigh. You bit your lip, seeing Namjoon turn to you to ask you how you met Yoongi. 

Yoongi’s fingers were not so close to your heat, the table blocking the view from everyone and finally you felt your legs spread instinctively and his middle and ring finger were quick to rub your heat over your the think material covering you. 

“U-uhm- I heard him playing piano and just decided to talk to him.” You tried not to let your words come out strangled, swallowing as Namjoon nodded. 

“Well that’s good, this guy doesn’t smile much but I haven’t seen it leave his face since I got here.” Namjoon replied, right as Yoongi increased the pressure on your clit. You bit your lip again, biting back a moan and nodding at Namjoon’s words. 

Still, Yoongi seemed not to be phased by what he was doing to. You squirmed so slightly in your chair that finally he looked over to you and gave you that same lazy grin. 

You’d never been touched like this in public before. The look in his blown out pupils told you he enjoyed this and in some sick kind of way, you enjoyed it as well. Something about having to keep your pleasure hidden while he went to work on your now soaked slit had you rolling. 

At one point, your hand moved to grip his wrist to pull him away as you felt your lower half begin to heat with electric shocks. You were not about to have an orgasm under the table at a bar. 

“If you want to continue, you have to take me home.” You whispered, your teeth nibbling at his earlobe. He whipped his head towards you, almost as if he didn’t expect that. What could he be thinking, though? That you weren’t going to allow him to fuck you into oblivion after doing that to you? 

Yoongi stood without saying goodbye to everyone at the table, the same hand that was buried between your legs moments ago was now pulling you out of the bar and into a taxi sitting just outside. 

The car ride was short and even in the taxi his hand was rubbing up and down your thigh. You were worried the seat would become soaked at your arousal, even checking when you stood out of the taxi and was lead up to an apartment. 

Yoongi opened the door to his apartment, walking a few feet in and flipping on the light. When he turned around, you were on your knees. 

“This is a sight I like to see.” Yoongi said, half surprised to see you just as eager as him. 

“It’s my turn.” You grinned, looking up at him through your lashes. He walked towards you, grabbing your chin and pulling you up to his level, “As much as I want those pretty lips wrapped around my cock, I’d prefer if you let me fuck your face in the bedroom.” 

The sultry tone to his words only turned you on more. Dripping you allowed him to lead you to the bedroom furthest from the front door. He started by sitting you down on the bed, unzipping your boots and pulling them off of your feet.  He was so gentle with his movements, your mouth watered while his hands carefully tugged your shirt over your head. 

Now just in your skirt and tights, Yoongi stared shamelessly at your chest, your nipples hard, sensitive to every touch on your body. 

He leaned forward, unable to help himself as he latches onto your nipple and sucks. 

Finally, moans filled the room while you struggled to keep yourself sitting up, Yoongi’s other hand kneaded your breast and again that electricity was back. 

Once he felt you were just enough of a mess to continue, pulled your skirt and tights off, and the air exposure caused your pussy to clench. Sure enough, Yoongi saw that you were completely soaked. 

It was then that you noticed the wet spot on his white wash jeans while his erection strained against the zipper. You reached forward, unzipping his jeans then sliding them down his legs. Then his boxers. 

Stepping out of the mesh of cloth, he practically tore his shirt off and was on top of you, his lips attacking yours viciously. All teeth in the kiss, his cock tutted against your lower stomach and moans filled the room from both of you. 

“I want to ride your tongue.” You finally said after a minute, your pussy quivering at the thought. 

“Please.” Yoongi said, practically throwing himself onto the other side of his bed. Alcohol made you much more bold than you ever thought you could be, your thighs straddling Yoongi’s face. 

His hands gripped your thighs, gently lowering you down onto his mouth. 

His tongue began working on you, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of pleasure coursing through your veins. You looked down, seeing his cock twitching and, almost breathlessly, you lowered your torso and grabbed him in your hands. 

His member dwarfed the size of your hand, a nice surprise as you didn’t expect him to be so big. As you stroked up and down, Yoongi let out whines at your touch which only egged you on and on. 

Your thumb collected the dripping precum, smearing it around the sensitive tip. You kept your focus on him the best that you could, his tongue working magic against your sensitive slit. 

As you suck your mouth around him, taking him as deep as you possibly could, you felt Yoongi’s fingers spread your labia and attack your clit. With both of your mouths occupied, muted vibrations came from both of your throats. 

You pulled away with a pop, “Fuck, Yoongi!” You were up again, circling your hips on his tongue while you felt your high approaching. 

Yoongi worked his tongue onto you, your sweet taste filling his mouth while his lips sucked on your swollen clit. 

In seconds, with your thighs sore and your hands gripping your breasts, you were coming undone above him, collapsing on top of his body. 

Yoongi didn’t stop though, his lips continuing to suck while your body twitched at the over stimulation. You slid from off of him, giving him a teasing glare. You couldn’t help but notice the shine around your mouth, signaling that you were much wetter than you initially thought. 

Seductively, his finger collected the wetness from around his mouth, dipping it into his mouth and sucking it off. 

You gasped quietly at him, his chest heaving just as the sight of you coming above him. 

“Now get on your back, baby.” Yoongi demanded softly, pushing you so your head resting on the pillow. He spread your legs in front of him, reaching into his nightstand and pulling out a condom. You leaned onto your elbows, watching him slide the condom over his cock. 

“Are you ready?” He questioned, lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Yes.” 

And he slipped in, so easily. Your warmth encased him and he stilled, unable to move at the sheer amount of pleasure he was in. “Oh god.” was the only thing he found himself able to say. 

You felt him twitch inside you, his arm moving to raise your leg to his shoulder. Still he made no effort to move, his eyes shut and sweat shining on his neck and chest. 

“You feel so good, princess.” He moaned, and you felt another twitch. Finally, he began to move. He stretched you out, his cock filling you in the best way possible. 

Low moans fell from his lips and you watched him in awe as his thrusts picked up speed. With one long stroke out, Yoongi slammed back into you roughly. 

Something took him over, and he was faster than ever. He reached a point inside of you that had you reeling beneath him. He leaned down, capturing your lips in his while you felt him in your stomach, in and out at such a rhythmic pace. Your hands held his lower back, guiding him with his thrusts. 

“I’m already so close.” You said, feeling him nibble on your neck. 

His hand dipped in between you, thumb stroking across your clit. Your back arched into him and with a call of his name, you were releasing once again. Yoongi’s thrusts picked up even more than they already were, feeling you tense around him. 

Your wreck expression made Yoongi so close to the edge that he felt himself beginning to melt away, but it wasn’t until he heard your voice was he able to let himself go. “Cum for me, please Yoongi.” 

Then it was all over, releasing in spurts into the condom he finally came. He thrusted a few more times, both of you sensitive as he pulled out with that same lazy grin from earlier. He fell beside you, the bed bouncing. 

“Wow.” Yoongi laughed, pulling you close to him and wrapping his arms around your torso. 

“Yeah. Who knew you had that in you, piano man?” You giggled, your hand reaching up to push his bangs off of his forehead. Such a small touch warmed Yoongi’s heart, pulling you closer and kissing your cheeks. 

“I certainly didn’t.” He replied honestly while your head moved to rest on his chest. Yoongi took off the condom, tying the end and throwing it into the garbage can. He stood and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wetting it with warm water and walked back to you. 

He pushed your legs apart, wiping your down gently. He watched your torso jolt at the feeling of the towel brushing lightly against you, his smile unable to be contained. He knew he did good but he didn’t know he did that good. 

Your face felt warm while he cleaned you up. Yoongi took care of you so gently, bringing you a glass of water when he was done. Never in your life had you experienced something like that, making you fall deeper for Yoongi. 

He grabbed the remote, flipping on the television and patting his chest so you can lay your head above his heart. He silently hoped you didn’t plan on fucking and leaving, but by the looks of it, you planned on staying the night and he wanted nothing more. 

“What would you like to watch?” He said, the smell of your hair evident as coconut filled his nostrils. Yet another thing he found himself loving about you. 

Surprised, you shrugged, “You put on whatever you’d like, I just enjoy spending time with you.” 

He decided on some commentary show, watching contestants compete for a cash prize. You hardly watched the show, instead keeping yourself tuned in to Yoongi. His slight chuckles were easy to miss but you watched him so carefully. 

Eyes flickering from the TV to him, you fully relaxed into him. His arm around you, thumb stroking your shoulder was a stark contrast to what you had been doing to each other moments ago. You loved ever second of it. 

You leaned up, turning his face to yours and pressing a small, short kiss to his lips. His smile was large when he pulled away, butterflies swarming your tummy. 

You could get used to this. 

[pluto-art]

Syncytium - Chapter 3

Title: Syncytium - Chapter 3 - Sodium Bicarbonate Words: 7,115 Rating: T

Fan Fiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13712482/3/Syncytium

As always, I recommend the fan fiction version, which includes all italics. Other than that, enjoy the full story below the cut!

September 16th, 1993 - 11:48 PM

Two little feet raced pitter-patter down a chatter-filled hallway in A.C.M.E. Arts & Sciences, its occupant laden with pen and petition, eagerly calling out to any hapless individual that came her way as that ever-present tam-o-shanter bounced atop her head.

"Signatures! Come put down your signatures! Sign the petition! Bring baseball back to A.C.M.E.!" Olivia called out, her little jingle ringing in its thick Scottish accent down the corridor and bouncing off the walls. "Baseball for all! Hear you shout! Let them know or we'll strike out!"

Like a fuzzy brown bullet she shot through the school, passing students and teachers, janitors and gym instructors, nearly running into the wall on two occasions, and receiving a sharp reprimand of "Watch it!" or "Land sakes!" from those whose book pages and scarves she ruffled on her flight down the hallways.

"Let your voice be heard! Put your name down! Have a- OOF!"

Olivia gasped as she landed on the hard, linoleum floor, having been knocked back by something tall and firm. She shook her head and looked up... and up... and up, into the stern face of Basil, teacher of Advanced Science and Deduction. Even for a mouse he was rather lanky, towering above Globetrotter and practically a giant to Olivia. The only other mouse in the school who reached his height was Pinky. He glared at her, one eyebrow cocked in silent judgement as he peered down from above, a great slab of papers cradled snugly against his side.

"Oh...," Olivia mumbled, gulping as she quickly stood up, face scrunching, and shook off her clothes, her little tam-o-shanter and petition laying very sorrowfully at her feet.

Basil sighed.

"Young lady," he began, bending down to pick up her hat and place it securely back on her head. "This is the third time this week we've met under unnecessarily chaotic circumstances and it's become... rather an interference in my daily schedule. Would you kindly keep harnessed certain frivolities at play, Miss Flabbergast?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Basil," Olivia muttered shyly, and not unkindly. "I'll be more careful."

She picked her clipboard with petition up off the floor, a little embarrassed.

"Sign my petition...?" she ventured, holding up the paper for Basil to see. He bent down to get a closer look at it.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"It's for a baseball stadium!"

"Baseball stadium?"

"Yes!" Olivia said, nodding excitedly. "So we can get sports back to the school!"

"Sports?" Basil nipped, practically spitting out the word as though it was a nasty slur. "Miss Flim-Flam, the last thing this university of science and culture needs is a bunch of dimwitted degenerates galloping about chasing after a ball. You'd do better to abandon the whole matter, in my opinion."

Olivia hung her head.

"But I doubt it will amount to anything," he continued, picking lint off his cardigan in a snooty fashion. "The most you could hope for is ten signatures, at least. Continue on your hapless venture if you must."

"Really?!"

"Yeeees yes yes. Now, run along."

"Thank you, Mr. Basil! I'll get more than ten. You'll see!"

"Jolly good," Basil replied curtly, sarcastically, pausing to flick a piece of dirt off Olivia's jacket. "Good day to you."

Olivia watched him as he went, his long shoes snapping click, click, click against the floor. She drew out a long breath of utter relief. Basil was fairer than Globetrotter. Anyone was fairer than Globetrotter. However, he still could get a bit cross when rubbed the wrong way, and it certainly wasn't the first time she'd gotten on his irritable side. She'd have to be more careful.

And so, as she continued her trek down the school hallways, calling out as she went (a bit more quietly this time), she jogged rather than sprinted, slipping between passerby with an "Excuse me" or "Pardon" and taking extra precaution not to bump into any more teachers, especially Globetrotter...

"Petition! Come you all and sign! Redefine!"

Maisy tossed Olivia an annoyed glance as she ran past, huffing a little and flipping back her hair as she dug through her locker.

"Since when did the principle allow kids to run around the school? I didn't think he'd be cool with that," she muttered.

Next to her, a chocolate-furred mouse leaned against his adjacent locker, deep in silent conversation as he texted rapidly on his phone.

"Why do you care?" he asked, not looking up at her.

"I dunno. It's just... This is like... a high-profile university, right? There shouldn't be any kids."

"We're kids."

"Um... Excuse me. I'm like... nineteen."

"Yeah. That's young, Maisy."

"Whatever," she spat, flicking her hair back again as she found what she was looking for: a red pencil with yellow flower print slapped all over it.

"Olivia is Flaversham's daughter," Gadget spoke from across the hall at her own locker, snapping her bulbous goggles atop her head as a matter-of-fact. "Everyone knows that." Tillie nodded next to her.

"Okay, but, like...," Maisy continued, pulling out a journal and tucking it under her arm, "... he works. When does he have time to watch her? He just lets her run around the school?"

"Well, isn't Mrs. Judson her nanny?" Tillie offered helpfully, albeit rather quietly. "I think that-"

Several students sprinted by. Tillie paused to let them pass before continuing.

"I think that she watches her in the nurse's office most of the day and lets her run errands."

"Yeah, but-," Maisy began, before being cut off herself as another batch of students trundled by, and then another. "But that doesn't give her leave to just-" More students. "To just run around whenever she-" Even more students. By this point, she could barely even see Gadget and Tillie. "Oh my gosh! I hate not having neighboring lockers!"

"It's lunchtime, Maisy," the male mouse said beside her, closing his phone with a sharp snap. "We should get going."

"Ugh. Fine. I'm starving anyway."

And so off they went, quartet heading for the cafeteria at the prompt hour of 12:00 PM, taking care not to bump into anyone as they entered the huge room.

Unlike the rest of the school, this area was terribly outdated. Or, rather, it had none of the classiness that the majority of the facility offered. Far from being dressed up in a mahogany coat, with comfortable seating, double-pane windows, and classical music that pumped itself like oxygen through the more casual areas of the building, the cafeteria resembled nothing less than something vomited out of an 80s shopping mall. The blue and purple paneling; the flashing neon food signs; the Whitney Houston music trapped perpetually within the speakers. It had it all. Students called it "The Flashback" or "The Blot", depending on who you talked to. The space had been heavily renovated a decade ago in an attempt to reflect the aesthetic at the time, and if the principal in office hadn't been ousted at the time for his radical ways the facility may very well have looked quite different by this point. As it stood, the cafeteria was an eye sore for some, a breath of fresh air for others, and it was a popular spot in which to congregate. If nothing else, the music was a relief. There was only so much Chopin one could take.

Chatter filled the dining area as the quartet entered. Already the tables were filling up, the smell of pizza and dumplings heavy in the air. Once upon a time, the food had reflected the decor: posh, healthy, and expensive. And then, of course, the cafeteria had been renovated, and with it the menu. No one had ever bothered to change the hot dogs back to ham; the grilled cheese back to caviar. Lemon sherbet tasted much better than shitake, and the students liked it that way.

"Think they're gonna have the jelly sauce again today?" Gadget asked, standing up on tip-toe to peer over at the food counter.

"Ew. Gosh. I hope not. That stuff is gro- HO MY GOSH," gasped Maisy.

"What?" Gadget asked, looking around, eyes wide. She hoped another wasp hadn't broken into the cafeteria again. Two had welcomed themselves in in the last week and she didn't think she could handle the stress another day.

"He's here," Maisy stressed, clutching at her heart and grabbing hold of Gadget's shoulder rather tightly.

Tillie and Gadget followed her gaze all the way across the floor to the food bar. There stood Pinky, dressed today in lab pants and a blue and gray striped shirt whose sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Had it not been for the ridiculously long white lab pants that spilled over his shoes, Gadget thought he might have looked rather fetching. As it stood, though, he didn't. Maisy thought otherwise.

"Ugh. He's so hot."

"So hot he melts your brains?" the male mouse quipped, back to texting on his phone.

Maisy shot him a nasty look. Tillie didn't even notice.

"Wow. Clam chowder special," she mused, completely serious as she stared, astonished, at the counter.

"You're focusing on the food?!" Maisy exclaimed, flabbergasted. Tillie remained oblivious.

"Oh, I hope Mrs. Brisby isn't too early today. I rather like lunch break...," Tillie mused, loosening her shawl a little.

"But you also like her classes," said Gadget, smiling.

"I do. They're fun."

"Learning about weeds is fun?" asked Maisy.

"Agriculture is more interesting than you think it would be! You should try it sometime. It's fun!"

"Tillie, the only fun thing about this school is the lunch break."

The dark-furred he mouse with them rolled his eyes, his hands in his pockets.

"Seriously, Maisy? Not even the Chemistry class is interesting?" he mentioned, incredulous.

"Okay, well, that is a little bit interesting..."

The he mouse sighed.

"You're incredible. Our parents are paying good money for this school. You should be grateful. Come on. Let's stake a seat."

A few tables down, a gaggle of mice, moles, and a rat or two sat, chattering loudly. One of them, a black-haired mouse in a frilly, once-piece dress, sash around the middle and dark hair tied up in a bun, stood up in her chair and waved in their direction.

"Maaaaaaisy, girl! Come on! We've been waiting for you!"

"GIIIIRL! I was just about to ditch these losers! Gimme a sec!" Maisy called back, beaming. "Sorry, guys. I gotta go."

"Wha-..? But I thought we were gonna-" the male mouse began, taken aback.

"Sorry, Dex. I forgot I'd promised Marvell I'd be here at noon. We'll catch up later, I promise. Okay?"

"Yeah. Sure...," Dex shrugged dejectedly.

"Thanks, Dex. Bye, y'all!" said Maisy, and she ran off to join the loquacious group.

"Bye, loser!" Gadget joked back, shaking her head. "Airhead."

"Remind me why we hang out with her again?" Tillie asked, as the remaining three headed for the food bar.

Gadget shrugged.

"She's been my friend since middle school. I'd feel weird just ditching her."

"You wouldn't be missing much," Dex muttered, although there was a hesitancy in his voice.

Gadget threw him a sideways glance as she grabbed a tray, Tillie and Dex following suit.

"You know that's not true, Dex. She's a bit into herself, but you know she loves you."

Dex shrugged.

One by one, a steady line of students at the bar filed past the counter, picking off a box of salad here, a cup of macaroni there. Things reached a stand still at the chili bowl. Dex and Gadget stood up on tip-toe for a couple seconds, flattened back out on their feet, stared at each other, and rolled their eyes, sniggering. But of course...

The hold up, as per the norm, was Pip, one of the restaurant hands and the only chipmunk in the entire school. He was terribly chatty, not to mention contentious if you dared complain about any aspect of the food. Either something was wrong and he needed to comment on it, or someone he recognized as a friend had just crossed his path. Judging by the chipper tone of his voice, Gadget guessed it was the latter today.

"So what's with this petition? Lemme see that paper, sister!"

And he whipped from someone's hand a petite clipboard entrusted with several sheets of lined paper. He read through it quickly, nose almost touching the paper.

Gadget, Dex, and Tillie peered around the crowd ahead of them to see who had handed him the paper. Oh. Naturally.

There stood Olivia, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as Pip perused her petition, a wide, expectant smile on her face. Was there no place she wouldn't invade?

"Hmmm," Pip mused, tapping his foot a mile a minute as his keen eyes roved over the paper one more time. "Weeeeeeell, I don't usually sign these things, buuuuut... baseball sounds like a worthy cause. Ya' got a pen?"

"Here you go!" Olivia squeaked happily, extracting from the inside of her coat pocket a blue pen and offering it to Pip. He took it swiftly and signed the petition just as fast.

"Just make sure you get me a position as umpire!" Pip said, handing her back the petition and pen.

"Oh, I will! Thank you!"

"Say, uhhhh... how many signatures you got on that thing so far?"

"Twenty-three!"

"Heeeeeey. That's not bad!"

"Come on, Pip!" a student piped up, brows furrowed.

"Yeah, we've got class!" a girl vole squeaked from behind the trio.

"All right, all right already! Sheesh!" Pip nipped back, rolling his eyes. "Hey. You keep gettin' those John Hancocks, okay?" he said, winking at Olivia.

"Um... Okay!"

And with that, she was off, not even bothering to grab an apple or a cracker, something that others cast glances at her for. Olivia passing up an opportunity to nab some food? She must mean business...

"She's so cute," Gadget mused, watching Olivia sprint around, on the hunt for more signatures, as she moved up a couple steps in line.

"Yeah," Dex said, arms folded. "She's a trip." Despite himself, he smiled after her. Little kids amused him sometimes, even if they could be a bit pesky underfoot.

As more students spilled into the cafeteria, fingers pointed, some quite shamelessly, in the direction of the food bar. Dex followed the invisible lines to a spot some paces behind them in line. But of course. They were all directed at the new teacher, Ronald Pinkus. The girls seemed particularly smitten, giggling and whispering and acting, in Dex's mind, perfectly idiotic. In fact, come to think of it, as he looked about the room, most of the girls were in deep conversation, their eyes trained on the same subject in the room, including Maisy's group. He shook his head. This was a university, not a middle school. Daftness came in all ages, he supposed.

"What?" Gadget queried, taking notice of the furrowed brow and the folded arms.

"Nothing," Dex muttered, shuffling forward a few paces as the line moved ahead. Both he and Gadget grabbed a plate of chocolate cake.

Gadget looked back at the new teacher and snickered.

"Don't let it get to you."

"She's just as bad as everyone else."

"Who? Maisy?"

"Yeah..."

Gadget shrugged.

"It's probably just a phase. Next week she'll fall for Basil again or someone."

Trays full, they set off to find a table. Tillie waved at them from a corner. They headed towards her.

"I dunno. I kinda...," Dex began, then stopped as they reached the table, sitting down with their trays. Tillie was already deep in her bowl of clam chowder.

"You what?" Gadget asked as she pulled her chair up.

"It's... whatever."

"What?"

Dex picked up his spoon, swirled it around in his own bowl of clam chowder, then set it down. Screw it. He grabbed his fork and dug into the chocolate cake instead.

"I miss when we used to hang out more."

"What are we talking about now?" Tillie asked, only half-interested.

No one said anything right away. Gadget picked at her sunflower seed salad for a minute, then spoke.

"You're her brother. She'll come back around eventually."

Dex shrugged again. He was about to shove another large piece of chocolate cake into his mouth when something lightly bumped his elbow. He turned and looked down. It was Olivia.

"Sign my petition?" she asked, her little whiskers upturned in a wide smile.

Dex couldn't help but mirror that infectious grin. In the distance, something... someone... caught his eye. It was Maisy. She frowned at him and shook her head. Dex frowned back. He took the clipboard and pen from Olivia's outstretched paws.

"You know what? Sure, kid. Baseball, right?"

"Uh-huh! We're going to have a mascot again, too! I hope..."

He handed her back the clipboard and pen and ruffled her hair, or, rather, the top of her tam-o-shanter.

"Break a leg, kid."

"Thank you!" she beamed, and off she went.

Dex smiled. In the background, Maisy shook her head. Dex snapped his fingers and winked, finger-gunning her. She rolled her eyes and went back to talking to her friends.

"Ugh. He's such a tease," complained Maisy to her company, twirling a strand of her long, golden hair as she sipped soda through a straw.

"He just cares about other people. Heck, I signed her petition," the black-furred mouse said. "How come you never hang out with your brother anymore? He's been lookin' kinda sad..."

"He's not even my real brother, Marvell. He's just my half-brother. You know that. Do we look like we're related?"

"But y'all used to be so close! What happened?"

Maisy shrugged.

"I dunno. We just... shifted."

"Don't you mean 'drifted'?" offered up a boy rat next to her.

"Whatever," Maisy shrugged. "Anyway, what do you guys think of him?" she smirked, jerking her head in the direction of Pinky still in line at the food bar.

All at the table turned their heads to look at him. He seemed to be picking out quite an odd assortment of foods: a hot dog, two cups of custard, and several pieces of cheese - just cheese. Every person that passed him a "hello" he greeted with a chipper "Good morning!", and his attitude towards the servers was polite and enthusiastic. Those around him couldn't seem to keep the smiles off their faces. Even the students generally known to be more reserved or stuck up couldn't help but throw him a curious glance. He was, for lack of a better term, "sunshine-y".

The boy rat popped several corn puffs in his mouth, his dry expression unchanged.

"He's kind of a twink, isn't he?"

Maisy slapped him on the shoulder playfully.

"He is not!"

"Dude. Come on..."

"He's not that young," Marvell said, filing her nails as another of their group, a white mouse in a red shirt and with a yellow sash tied about his neck, came and sat down beside her, a cup full of fizzy raspberry water tottering dangerously on the edge of his tray. "He is kinda cute, though..."

The white mouse set down his tray carefully... but not carefully enough. Slip went the cup, the mouse grabbing it before its contents could spill out entirely.

"AH!" Marvell yelped, jumping a little. "Stuart, that's the second time this week!"

"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry, Marvell!" the little mouse said, apologizing profusely as he skittered off towards the food bar. "I'll go get some napkins!"

"Awww, man. I just washed this," lamented Marvell, picking up a corner of her frilly blue frock, now tainted with fizz. "Well... At least it's just water. I can work with this, right? Looks kinda... sassy?"

The boy rat sat up, the better to look at Marvell's new fashion statement. The water had painted the rounded edges of one side of the dress. It could have passed for an interesting pattern if one squinted hard enough.

"Yeah, sure. You could pass it off as the new look," he suggested, smiling.

"Hm," Marvell replied, smirking as she sat back down, ringing out the dress edge.

Maisy didn't seem the least bit phased.

"I think he's kinda hot," she said, eyelashes fluttering as she sipped at her soda noisily.

"Hotter than Globetrotter?" sniggered the boy rat.

"Okay, Globetrotter's in his own league. Okay? I can never compete with that."

"Ummm...," Marvell mumbled, covering her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her embarrassed smile as she pointed to a figure behind Maisy's back.

"What?" Maisy asked, craning around slightly to look before swiftly turning back 'round in her seat again, shoulder hunched as she visibly blushed. "Oh my gosh," she whispered, burying her face in her hands.

The boy rat beside her could barely hide his laughter as Globetrotter walked past them, his nose deep in a very thick, very red, and very heavy-looking book. Had he actually been paying attention to their conversation Maisy might have had more reason to involuntarily add a bit of color to her cheeks. As it stood, however, he had not, and so continued towards the bar, oblivious to the fact that he was now fifth in line behind Pinky.

"That's astounding!" Pinky exclaimed, tray of food all but forgotten as he leaned across a glass awning in front of him, totally invested in Pip's latest story. "But... how were you able to keep the syrup layer from separating?"

"Oh, that's easy!" Pip replied, and on and on he went.

Two students ahead of Pinky peered back, interested. Others behind him simply chuckled... or tapped their foot impatiently. To Globetrotter it was complete gibberish. The culinary arts was a branch he rarely dabbled in unless absolutely necessary. Although I do make a mean rigatoni, he thought to himself before shaking his head disgustedly. Where the heck did that come from? He was supposed to be engulfed in Brownian Motion and Stochastic Calculus, but, as it stood, he found his attention inexplicably pulled towards a much... lesser subject. It was unfathomable how anyone could be so intrigued by such mundane topics as the properties of pancakes and how effectively one might prepare them, but the fanaticism with which his coworker now described it was almost... infectious. Nevertheless, Globetrotter frowned as he checked his watch. 12:18 PM. They were wasting precious time. He was wasting his precious time.

"Will you move along already!" he called out, voice peppered with vexation. "I've got class in twenty-seven minutes!"

"Oh! So sorry!" Pinky called back, paws quickly grabbing hold of his tray once more. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Pip. Good luck with your pancakes!"

"Same to you, my good man!" Pip squeaked back. "What a pleasant fellow," he muttered to himself, smiling as Pinky walked off towards the refreshments bar, laden with food.

Globetrotter huffed and moved forward, grabbing a single bowl of fruit and a cup of cottage cheese on his way down. As he passed the pasta section, he paused, reached out a hesitant paw towards a plate of spaghetti, then quickly snapped it back, sighing and frowning sadly as he moved on to the refreshments, grabbing a banana on his way over and angrily slapping it down on his tray.

He stopped beside Pinky, who was humming and pouring himself some English Breakfast tea. Globetrotter huffed again. Flavored water - a poor man's excuse for caffeine. How anyone could drink that stuff was beyond him. He went for the coffee, pulled down the carafe lever... and grumbled. Empty.

"Is there any place in this building that can afford a mouse a decent cup of coffee?!" he whined, popping his empty cup back onto the others.

"Oh, that's a shame there, isn't it? Have you tried the tea, Brain?" Pinky offered helpfully, as he popped a lid on his own steaming cup.

"I refuse to bow my knee to such a lowbrow form of refreshment," Globetrotter bit back, picking up his tray. "And it's Brian, you nincompoop."

"Well, how do you know you don't like it if you don't try it? Poit!" Pinky replied, unfazed by the retort.

"If I liked it I'd drink it. Good day to you."

And off he went, choosing a spot as far back in the room as possible, Pinky sadly watching him as he picked out a table devoid of occupants. Pinky looked back at the empty coffee cup, a light whimper escaping him as he stared at it dolefully. He turned back to focus on Globetrotter, who was once more lost in his big red book. Students who sat nearby gave him as wide of a berth as they could. Pinky's ears drooped. What a sad little man, he thought. But it wasn't long before they perked back up again. Why, yes. Of course! Beaming, he set his tray down at an occupied table ("Watch this for me, will you?"), and rushed out of the cafeteria, leaving several students at the table to stare after him, puzzled.

Flip. Globetrotter turned a page of his massive tome, popping a grape in his mouth and crunching down on it satisfactorily. Flip, flip, flip. He looked to his right. A girl mouse sat nearby, also buried in a book. A huge pink bow sat atop her head. He recognized her. She was one of his students. Teresa, her name was, if he recalled correctly. She was one of his brighter subjects, but struggled with the occasional mathematical theory. As it was, her nose practically brushed the pages of a book that Globetrotter recognized by sight alone: Calculus by Gilbert Strang. Teresa sighed deeply, her unironed brow effectively relaying her frustration. She looked up... and jumped a little as she noticed Globetrotter staring at her, a light pink almost the exact color of her bow kissing her cheeks. Globetrotter slowly ducked back into his own texts, his peripheral vision catching Teresa shifting her seat over a notch in embarrassment.

A paw reached out to grab for his coffee, and he looked up when it touched nothing. Right. No coffee... Sighing, he popped another grape in his mouth, biting into it rather harder than necessary. Nearby, at another table, several students whispered.

"Did you find out what he teaches?" a girl vole asked, her question laced with ardor.

"Yup. He teaches Trozology," replied a male rat next to her, a pair of thick headphones hung about his neck.

"What the heck is that?" voiced another female rodent at their table, a cream-furred mouse decked out in purple - purple shirt; purple pants; purple socks; purple everything.

"I dunno," the rat shrugged. "Sounds kinda cool, though."

Globetrotter frowned. His ears twitched as tinkling laughter echoed from another table beside him.

"I knooooooow. He's so cute!" chuckled a rosy pink-eared mouse. She spoke in a barely-contained whisper along with the rest of her group, all of which sported bulky backpacks laid out on their table and decorated with all sorts of patches, stickers, and keychains. "I hope I can get a spot in his class!"

"I think he still has slots open!" one of her friends, a field rat, spoke up. "As far as I know, though, no one's actually signed up."

"Whyyyyyy? He's adorable! I'm gonna sign up just so I can stare at that face every day," a girl hamster said.

"What if you don't even like the class?" the second friend spoiled. "Maybe it's a dud. And we don't really have time in our schedules for another course..."

They all paused sadly and contemplatively at this. Then the first girl perked up.

"Well, I guess we'll get him all to ourselves then. If no one else likes the class then we'll stay just for the teacher!"

"Yeah, until every other girl does the same thing. You know we're not the only ones with the hots for him," the hamster said, taking a swig from her soda bottle.

"Well, then I guess we'll just have to fight for him," smiled the rat nonchalantly as she picked at her nails.

"Fight for him?!" yelped the other girls, covering their mouths at their loudness. "Oh my gosh. Seriously?!"

"Yeah! Anyone who comes up, we'll tell 'em to meet us at the park at two. No knives. Just like... nail clippers and hair curlers or something..."

"No no! Wait! We tell them to meet us at the baseball stadium!" offered the hamster, soda pop forgotten.

"You mean the one Olivia's petitioning?" the girl mouse asked. "It's not even built yet!"

"Yeah, but when it is we can tell them to meet there!"

"Winner gets dibs. They get to call first date," said the rat.

"And the loser has to pay for the dinner tab."

"Yeah!"

"Oh my gosh, you guys are so funny," the mouse chuckled.

They all laughed gaily.

Globetrotter's frown deepened, his mouth hanging open, another grape suspended in mid-air. Was Pinkus really... that popular? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the conversations now swimming about his consciousness, when yet another light exchange, a distant one this time, caught his ears.

"... thinking of actually dropping Globetrotter's class to take that Ronald guy's one. It's just as many credits. Probably way more fun."

Globetrotter gulped. He tried reading a sentence in his book, only to find that he kept gracing the same words over and over and over again. Blast it. He couldn't concentrate. He plopped the book down on the table and went to devouring his cottage cheese, all around him oblivious to the private war going on in his mind.

Why do you care what they think? They're kids. They're idiots.

Yes, and have you forgotten what happened when Basil came to the school two years ago? They went gah-gah over him, too.

They didn't all abandon my class!

Nooooo, but half of them did. And Basil taught a required course at the time. Same as yours. They all went for his. He was much more interesting than you.

That's neither here nor there! I'm still employed, aren't I? My class is still sought after.

For now, and only because it's required. This new guy is significantly more popular. What if his class becomes required? What if it's worse than before? What if you become... old hat?

"No!" Globetrotter yelled, out loud. Half the cafeteria paused to stare at him. He sunk in his seat a little. How embarrassing...

In mock resoluteness, he grabbed the book before him and went back to reading. But he was only truly pretending to read, the bright crimson covers a pathetic excuse for a hole in which the frightened mouse hid.

The truth was that, despite his behavior being anything but amicable, his notorious reputation in the school had garnered him something akin to a celebrity status over the years. The course was required, certainly, even though he wasn't the only teacher who taught it, but the struggle to survive the rigorous schedule and harsh grading system he doled out had become a flat out challenge to the students. How long could you last? Would you manage to nab the ever elusive 'A' during a semester? One pupil even became famous for handing out "I Survived Globetrotter's Class" t-shirts. They hated the teacher, but reveled in the challenge. It was something that Globetrotter became ironically comfortable with over the years. Being notorious was better than not being noticed at all. He couldn't abide the thought of being second fiddle; of falling into obscurity. He'd never had reason to be concerned about it for seventeen years, even during Basil's "reign", but now...? Now he had legitimate competition. In all his years at A.C.M.E. Arts & Sciences, he'd never known an instructor so heavily discussed, so quixotic, so beloved, even on the very first day of his employment. Pinky was new and different, in all the wrong ways to him, yet in all the right ways to the students. And it terrified him.

On a sudden whim, he whipped out a pen from his inside jacket pocket and wrote feverishly on a napkin in front of him. He didn't see the tall figure approach him.

"Hello, Brain!"

Globetrotter practically leapt out of his skin.

"AH! Wh-... You..! Don't... do that!" he remarked, hastily stuffing the napkin and pen back into his coat pocket. He clutched at his heart, taking deep breaths as he rested his head in his palm.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Brain!" poor Pinky replied, resting a hand on Globetrotter's back comfortingly. Globetrotter shrugged it off, literally.

"And don't touch me! I just... h-had this... p-pressed," Globetrotter snapped, still catching his breath. "Who knows where your... paws have... been..."

"Oh, well, they haven't been far, Brain. They're always at my side! Ha-ha!"

Globetrotter cocked an eyebrow up at him, speechless. There was no way anyone could be this inordinately stupid.

"Mind if I join you?" Pinky asked, all innocence, that perpetually sunny smile never leaving his face.

"As I matter, of fact, I-"

"Oh, thank you!" Pinky initiated, grabbing a chair and pulling it close up to Globetrotter. Too close for his comfort. Apparently, personal space was something of a foreign concept to this character. "You know, I don't usually eat in public. Don't want to miss The Brady Bunch, you know? Hm hm. But it's rather nice out here! I might come and sit with you more often."

Heaven forbid, Globetrotter thought, ears reddening.

"Would you kindly refrain from mentioning that abomination of a tv show in my presence? It sickens me. And I don't appreciate your unnaturally close proximity."

"Come again?" Pinky asked, cocking his head.

"Move," Globetrotter said, managing, with difficulty, to push Pinky and the chair he sat in over an inch.

"Well, you could have just asked," Pinky chuckled, still smiling. He complied, scooting his chair a couple more inches away from Brain.

"Thank you," bit Globetrotter, turning away from Pinky and directing his attention back to the giant tome in front of him. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like a little privacy."

"Oh, but, I came to give you something!" Pinky exclaimed, and Globetrotter, despite himself, shiftily looked over as the lanky mouse dug in his pants pocket for... something. "A-ha! Here ya' go!"

And he handed him... a teabag? No. Not a teabag. It was too big to be a teabag.

Globetrotter took it from him tentatively, two fingers holding it away from his body as if it might explode.

"What is it?"

"Chicory root! I just thought that, well, when you couldn't find any coffee it reminded me of my mum. She used to be a big coffee drinker, too. She stopped recently, but she still missed the taste. Chicory root tastes a lot like coffee, only better! M-Maybe you'd like it, too?" Pinky offered helpfully, a tinge of shyness peppering his smile.

Globetrotter looked up at Pinky, nonplussed... and a wee bit confused. No one ever gave him anything; not unless he directly asked for it. To be fair, no one was ever bold enough to even attempt to show him much kindness, seeing as the result was often times a sharp reply and a sinister glare. This newcomer obviously hadn't learned the rules yet.

"Teachers... don't usually give me gifts," Globetrotter admitted. "Not unless I ask for them." Nevertheless, he pocketed the chicory root.

"Perhaps that's because you don't ask nicely, Brain? People give you lots of things when you're nice to them!"

It wasn't so much the statement itself, but the boldness of its deliverance that took Globetrotter aback.

"Sooooo... you're saying... I should be nice... to get rewards?"

"Oh, no, Brain! That would be taking advantage! You should be nice to people, 'cause, well, it's nice! And then they're nice to you! Don't you like making people happy?"

"No."

"Not even a little bit?"

"No one has ever given me reason to."

"Well, maybe they would if you showed them a little smile!"

And he actually stuck two fingers up against Globetrotter's cheeks, pushing up on each side in an attempt to draw something close to a grin on his drooping face.

"Ohhhhhhh. There's that smile, Brain!"

"Would you get off?!" Globetrotter blasted, waving his arms around as he flung Pinky off of him. "I told you not to touch me!"

His cheeks and ears burned red at the sound of laughter nearby. Some of the students had been watching and were now drowning in a hushed fit of giggles. Naturally...

"You dimwit. If you're still sitting in that chair in five seconds, I shall personally have to harm you," threatened Globetrotter, cheeks reddening worse than ever as his paws balled into fists.

"Do I get a prize if I leave in four?" Pinky smirked.

"One..."

"Or maybe I'll get one if I stay longer! It pays to be persistent sometimes, Brain."

"Two..."

"You know, you're rather funny when your ears turn red. Nya-ha-ha!"

"FOUR...!"

"Going, Brain!"

And with that, he was off, picking his food up off his tray to take back to his room, giggling to himself and humming, of all things, "Camptown Races" as he headed for the doors. One of the teachers, a Dr. Dawson, smiled at Pinky as he walked past him. And Dr. Dawson... Oh, have mercy. Dr. Dawson started singing along with him.

"I say. I do recognize that tune, young man!" Dawson said, grinning warmly. "Camptown ladies sing this song! Doo-dah! Doo-dah!"

"Camptown race-track five miles long! Oh, doo-da day!" Pinky sung back, beaming.

Others joined in. Still others. Soon, almost the entire cafeteria, minus Globetrotter and a few stragglers, was decked out in song.

"Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day! Bet my money on the bob-tailed nag! Somebody bet on the bay!"

And with that, everyone burst out into hearty laughter, Pinky's wail the loudest of all. He and Dr. Dawson exchanged a friendly word or two, shook hands, and with that, Pinky departed, leaving a trail of chuckles behind.

Globetrotter blinked, his mouth hanging slightly open again. Whatever had happened was... terrifying. This bloke didn't just have an effect on the students, but on the whole school. Even the teachers were getting involved! It was official. This needed to end. He had to be stopped...

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Pinky was still humming "Camptown Races" all the way back to his classroom. He'd just reached the door when a little someone came pitter-pattering down the hallway after him.

"Mr. Pinky! Mr. Pinky!" she called, hat bobbing wildly up and down on her ruffled, furry head.

"Hello, Olivia!" Pinky said, grinning from ear to ear.

"That was amazing!" she gasped, panting. "Mrs. Judson said she could hear you from the nurses' office. She was singing with you!"

They both giggled at this.

"Well, tell Mrs. Judson that Mr. Pinky is glad she enjoyed the song!" Pinky said.

"Oh, I will! I will! By the way, umm... do you have any more classes planned?" Olivia asked, tucking her paws behind her and rocking back and forth, the pink cheeks only complementing her humble posture. She looked awfully cute.

"Hmmmmm. Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Is that a Friday?"

"I think so."

"Yes! Yes, I will!"

"2:00 PM sharp tomorrow, little lady," Pinky said, winking at her.

"2:00 PM sharp, Mr. Pinky!" Olivia repeated, saluting him. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

And off she trotted.

"Oh! Olivia!" Pinky called.

Olivia stopped and turned around, her mouth in a curious little 'o' shape. Pulling a hand out of his pocket, Pinky tossed her a bag of crisps. She caught it with a trained paw.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, popping open the bag and tossing a chip in her mouth as she ran off and around a corner.

"Olivia!" Pinky called again, a hand to his mouth.

"Hm?" she queried, popping her head around the corner.

"How many signatures?!"

"Thirty-seven!"

"Woo-hoo!"

"Woo woo!" she called back, before flying off once more.

Pinky smiled, giggling to himself, as he turned the door handle and disappeared inside.

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

Author's Notes:

- Marvell is an original character created by a friend of mine who goes by the cognomen of "Geeky". You can find her lovely art and cute character on Twitter at: GeekyBlackGirl

- Flip phones weren't exactly in wide use in '93, but I cheated here for convenience's sake and story purposes.

- The book that Teresa was reading, as well as the book Globetrotter carried around with him, are actual published works. Stochastic calculus is, apparently, a very advanced form of the subject. Brain considers it light reading.

- Your typical volcano science project is partially composed of baking soda, which, in turn, is made up of sodium bicarbonate. The whole thing is a reference to Globetrotter's explosive personality, and how he views the current predicament as such: one big problem on the verge of erupting and destroying his position if he doesn't do something... and fast.

- Globetrotter going for the cottage cheese and fruit, while sadly eschewing the pasta, is due to the fact that, in this story, he has terrible bowel and diarrhea issues. He's been told by his doctor to avoid certain foods, but finds this... a struggle at times. I dunno why I decided to give him this problem, other than the fact that it amuses me. Lol.

- Olivia is a lot of fun to write. :)

[bangtann-bangdamn]

Nocturne

<Yoongi x Reader>

Part 11 - What’s a fake boyfriend for?

It was supposed to be easy: confess your love for Park Jimin and spend the final moments of the year locked in his arms. Only one problem – he has a new girlfriend and now you need to save face. Good thing Yoongi is willing to play pretend. But how long until you catch feelings for the quiet music man?

Warnings: Brief mention of an anxiety-induced eating disorder. Further explanation in AN at the end.

January 6th – 1:49am

“What’s a fake boyfriend for?”

You stared at your phone for what felt like an eternity. His words raced through your mind, barging through all other possible thoughts. You weren’t sure what made your heart flutter. It wasn’t like he had said anything untrue. He was your fake boyfriend, after all. Perhaps it was merely the surprise of seeing it written down for the first time. You were going to have to tell people. Officially. Perhaps even introduce him to your mother.

You whined at the thought, stomping your feet gently against the floor.

Jungkook stirred beside you, pulling his jacket closer to his chin with a slight mumble. You smiled. He had always been a heavy sleeper. Your mum used to joke that whilst it was the gentle summer breeze that could rouse you, even then strongest of storms would not be enough to wake Jungkook.

You glanced back down at your phone, checking the time. You still had eight minutes until Yoongi would be pulling up outside the building, but it felt like an eternity. Maybe waiting outside will make the time go faster?

You stood up and brushed the crumbs from your movie snack from your jeans. You glanced at your brother, uncertainty clouding your gut. You should probably leave a note or something letting him know you got home. Then again, he would text you the moment he woke up whether you left it or not. That, and you really did not know where they kept their paper… or if they even owned any.

Instead, you leant over Jungkook’s body and gently placed a kiss on his forehead. After all, it wasn’t often your twin would let you be affectionate towards him without a great deal of protest. You pulled away slightly, watching as Jungkook’s face scrunched up in disgust. You suppressed your laughter.

Even in his sleep, he protests.

You gathered your things and made your way towards the door, grabbing Jungkook’s keys from the side table as you passed.

As soon as you closed the door, you sighed. Loudly. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. You posted the keys through the letterbox before taking a seat and settling on the cold concrete steps outside Jungkook’s home. You tugged your coat closer to you, mentally scolding yourself for forgetting your hat, scarf, and gloves again.

You had known the evening was going to be stressful. How could it not when you were going to spend the evening with the love of your life… and his girlfriend. Yet, for the most part, you had found the evening to be quite pleasurable. But something had been off, and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Jungkook and Jimin had been their usual playful selves. Teasing and joking around. But every time Jess had spoken to Jungkook, you could see his walls go up. You knew Jungkook could be extraordinarily shy around strangers, but you hadn’t seen him react this way since you were small. In fact, Jungkook usually liked Jimin’s girlfriends. He always made a point of getting to know them.

‘Unfortunately.’

That’s what he had written when you asked if she was going to be there. You thought that maybe, just maybe, Jess was a nightmare. Jungkook would presumably have a better understanding of her character, considering he lived with Jimin. Which says a lot, really, when Jungkook liked the previous girlfriend when you could never warm to her. Perhaps it was because you were jealous of the two, but you seriously doubted that. The girl threatened to cut your throat at one of their parties after you asked her if she wanted another drink. Surely something had to be wrong with Jess for Jungkook to be upset by her presence.

Jess, it turned out, was a quiet little thing. Her long dark hair was braided down her back and she wore large circular glasses that seemed to magnify her doe eyes. She had pulled you into a hug the moment you and Jungkook walked through the door, cooing in your ear that she was so happy to meet you. For the first time, you found yourself immediately liking Jimin’s girlfriend. In fact, you had spent most of the evening with her whilst the boys goofed around. You were certain that Hye-jin would also love her once the two were properly introduced.

You smiled as you pulled your phone from out of your pocket, glad that you had the forethought of getting her number so you wouldn’t have to ask Jungkook for it. You contemplated creating a group chat between you three girls and set up a day out. It had been a while since you had been on a girl’s day and there was that new cat’s café in town that you had been dying to try.

Speaking of Hye-jin, you thought to yourself. Maybe I should text her to let her know I’m on my way home.

Then again, she wasn’t likely to be happy with you if you woke her up with a text. She would bitch and moan until the day you die. Then again, she would also bitch and moan if you didn’t tell her you were coming home at such a late hour. You sighed. Hye-jin was a hard person to please.

Of course, there was one way you could placate her. You could tell her that Yoongi was driving you home. She would forget to be angry in her excitement. In fact, it wouldn’t even cross her mind to be angry with you.

The thought created a whirlwind in your stomach. You couldn’t do that. You put your phone back into your pocket, hiding away the temptation. You could see all the potential outcomes of informing your best friend about Yoongi. She would overreact in her joy, begin planning a wedding you knew would never happen. In fact, you were pretty sure she had a binder under her bed with plans for both of your weddings. Or, she would react the other way – and complain about you stealing her only friend at work. Of course, it had been Hye-jin who gave you Yoongi’s number, but you wouldn’t put it past her to complain about it all the same.

Your head was beginning to throb. You didn’t want to think about the what if’s anymore. You didn’t want to contemplate the millions of ways this could all blow up in your face. For once, you wanted to switch your mind off. You wanted to go with the flow and simply enjoy the moment.

What you really needed at that moment was a distraction.

As if your prayers were heard, the purr of a car’s engine caught your attention. You sat up straight, watching as the car turned onto your street and started to drive slowly towards you. It was too early in the morning for the driver to be out for a casual drive, and they were driving too slow to be without a purpose. You placed your hands on either side of you, readying yourself to jump up and start banging on the door for Jungkook should they try anything. You held your breath as the car stopped in front of you. It wasn’t a particularly new car from what you could tell with your limited knowledge. It had a nasty dent in the back door, but aside from that, you could tell it was loved.

You tried to squint to see who the driver was as the passenger side window rolled down. Your body relaxed as you were greeted with the sight of Yoongi’s pale face looking up at you, his warm brown eyes sparkling in the lamplight. He smiled.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi.” You hesitated, uncertain of what else you should say. Was it too soon to thank him? What was the right etiquette for addressing your fake boyfriend? Do you go down there and kiss his cheek? Shake his hand? Do you say nothing as you climb into the car and simply let him drive you home?

“YN?” Yoongi licked his lips.

“Yes?”

“Are you going to sit on the pavement all night?”

You glanced down at your lap before sheepishly returning his gaze and standing. You made your way over to his car as he rolled the window up, only fumbling slightly with the door handle.

“Sorry,” you said as you buckled your seatbelt.

“It’s fine.” He eased the car back onto the road.

You try not to look at him. Instead, you settled your gaze on the dark world beyond the window. Beside you, you heard Yoongi press a button on the dashboard before the gentle caress of a piano filled the space between you. Your head is empty as you watched the darkness outside, broken only by streetlights illuminating brief sections of the world. It’s too early to watch strangers living their lives; too early even for the mail to be delivered. You find yourself watching Yoongi through the reflection of your window as he checked his mirrors, mouth slightly gaped in concentration.

It was so easy to forget how pretty he was when you spoke through texts. How easily you forgot about his perfect complexion, defined jaw, and pouty lips. You watched him turn towards you, meeting your gaze in the window before returning to the road.

You turned towards him, noting how his fingers drummed against the steering wheel.

“What song is this?” You asked quietly.

Yoongi’s fingers stopped dancing. He cleared his throat. “It’s one of Chopin’s Nocturnes”

“Ah. It’s nice.” You smiled, leaning back into your seat.

Yoongi hummed in agreement.

The music filled the silence between you once more. You could fill the tension begin to return to your shoulders as thoughts began to intrude the calm of your mind. You knew you had to get to know him. No one would ever believe you were dating if you couldn’t relax around him. But how were you supposed to relax around him when you could barely relax around Jimin, and you had known Jimin your entire life.

“Have you had anything to eat?” Yoongi asked, breaking you out of your spiral.

You relaxed into your seat, thankful that his question was an easy one. “Yeah, I have.”

“When?” Yoongi asked softly.

There was something about his tone that made you pause. It wasn’t like when Hye-jin asked, who would immediately spiral into a lecture about the importance of regular meals regardless of your answer. Or even Jin, who would just turn up with far too much food and refuse to leave until you were too full to do anything other than lounge in front of the TV.

“Jungkook took me to McDonald’s earlier,” you replied quietly.

“What did you get?” He didn’t look at you as he asked, but you could feel his focus on you.

“A McFlurry.”

“That’s not a real meal.” Yoongi scoffed. He checked that there were no cars on either side of the road before quickly manoeuvring his car into a three-point turn and driving back the way you had just come from.

You glanced around the car as if it were about to announce why Yoongi had just made an illegal turn in the middle of the street. “Wait – where are we going?”

“To get you something to eat.”

“No, you don’t have to do that!” You protested, turning as much as your seatbelt allowed to face him.

Yoongi simply shrugged, a coy smile playing on his lips as he refused to explain his actions any further.

“Seriously, Yoongi. I’m not hungry.” You folded your arms across your chest, hoping you sounded stern enough to force him to turn the car back around. Unfortunately, your stomach picked that moment to growl loudly in objection.

Yoongi snorted as he suppressed his laughter, shaking his head as he relaxed his grip on the steering wheel so only one hand was on the wheel. The other he placed in his lap.

“Okay, so maybe I am hungry. But I have food at home.”

Yoongi hummed but made no move to change the car’s direction.

You struggled to find a logical reason as to why Yoongi would want to make sure you’d eaten. Sure, you often forgot about food, especially when you were locked in your room painting. And you guess you had been painting a lot recently for your assignment. But Yoongi wouldn’t know about that.

Unless…

“What has Hye-jin told you about me?” You narrowed your gaze at him.

“Nothing that I haven’t already worked out for myself.” He smiled and, whilst it wasn’t directed at you, you could see the mischief twinkling in his eyes. You wondered just what he knew about you that made his eyes light up like that. It was as if he knew something you didn’t.

When you said nothing, he turned to look at you only to find your gaze was already on his. For a moment, neither of you look away. Then Yoongi’s eyes snap back to the road.

“And what’s that?” You lean your head against the headrest.

“You’re stubborn,” he quietly admitted as he stopped the car at a red light. He sighed as he turned to look back at you. “You always have paint on you. Even when you think you’ve got it all, there’s still a speck.”

“No, I don’t!” You protested, looking down at your clothes as if to prove your point. You knew you couldn’t possibly have paint on you right now. You had picked out a white shirt to wear underneath your dress and you never painted in white.

In response, Yoongi gently picked up your right hand and pointed to a red spot just beneath the cuff.

You were glad it was dark because you were sure you were a brilliant shade of vermilion at that moment.

“Fine. Continue.” You pouted as you pulled your hand away from his grasp.

“You hum to yourself when you’re thinking, and you always order chai tea even though you hate it and would prefer a hot chocolate when Hye-jin’s working.”

“Hey, you don’t live with her! The rants are not worth it. Trust me.”

Yoongi laughed. “Oh, I can imagine.”

“What else?”

Yoongi stared at you for a moment before answering. “You bake when you’re stressed.”

You scoffed, “That’s not true”

“Oh really? So, it was a coincidence a few months ago that you made a couple dozen muffins just before an exam?” he raised his brow in challenge.

You suppressed your smile. “Yes,” you said stubbornly.

“You looked like you hadn’t slept in a week.” Yoongi pressed.

You shrugged, finally breaking eye contact with him as you turned to face the road once more. “The light’s green.”

Yoongi said nothing more as he resumed driving. You remain silent until he’s pulling into an empty parking spot across the road from what you could only assume was a bar.

“We’re here,” he announced as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door.

You followed him out of the car and across the quiet street, hesitating only slightly as he held the door open for you.

What had originally appeared to be a bar on the outside was something closer to a restaurant, you learned as you walked through the door. A few patrons were dotted around the large space, many taking seats in the booths against the wall. A large bar with a copious amount of alcohol dominated the right-hand wall where a woman stood cleaning a glass with a dishtowel.

She glanced up at the sound of the bell, squinting at the pair of you.

“Yoongi, is that you?” She called out as she put the glass down on the counter and tossed the towel over her shoulder.

She was beautiful, you noted. Her long dark hair was loose around her face, her skin youthful despite the threat of wrinkles around her eyes.

Yoongi confidently strode to the bar, taking a seat opposite the woman. “It’s good to see you, Mimi.” He smiled with his lips pressed together.

You took the seat next to him, glancing between the two of them.

Mimi huffed. “Ah, don’t come in here all ‘oh Mimi, it’s so good to see you’” she dramatically imitated his voice with a roll of her eyes. “What can I get you?”

“Two bowls of the usual. Thanks, Mimi.”

Mimi clicked her tongue as she walked towards what you assumed was the kitchen.

“So, you come here often then?”

“Used to.” Yoongi turned his head away from you and towards the back of the room. You followed his gaze and suppressed the urge from gasping out loud when your gaze settled on a grand piano. Out of all the things you had been expecting, a piano was not one of them. You looked at Yoongi again; lost in his own little world. You wanted to ask him about it, about his history here in this weird little mix of restaurant and bar. But the answer was probably far too personal, and you weren’t sure where that sat in your little arrangement. So, you bit your tongue as you turned your attention away from the piano and back to him.

“So... what exactly did you order?”

Yoongi turned to face you again, the mischievous look back in his eyes. “It’s a surprise.”

“What if I don’t like surprises?” You asked playfully, leaning your arm against the counter and resting your head on your hand.

Yoongi shrugged, but something about his smile told you that he knew you did. You loved surprises. You loved seeing just how well someone knew you without you having to tell them. It’s probably why you cried when Jungkook gave you your necklace. You were unsurprised to find the box empty. It was such a Jungkook thing to do. He often forgot to buy you a birthday present only to present something days afterwards that would make you forgive him. You fully expected him to get you something in the sales, so when he cheekily handed you your real present to find the most perfect little locket with a baby picture of the pair of you inside, you just about lost it. Luckily, Jungkook had joined you in your tears and then blamed them to ‘twin empathy’. You’d been wearing it ever since. You fingered the simple silver locket around your neck and smiled.

“Did you have a nice time?” Yoongi’s question pulled you away from your thoughts.

“I’m sorry?”

“With your brother tonight?”

“Oh. Yeah, it was a typical night in with my brother, Jimin and his girlfriend.”

“That must have been awkward.”

You hummed. “Not really. I mean, sure it was at first but then it wasn’t. Jimin’s good at that. He can lighten the mood of any room.” You smiled. It had been Jimin dancing dramatically to a top 40 song that had done it. The usually elegant dancer had made his moves clumsy, his arms loosely splaying at his sides as he danced. Jungkook had been quick to imitate whilst you and Jess had practically wet yourselves from laughing.

“So how long have you known Namjoon?” You asked.

Yoongi contemplates the question, his lips pursing slightly into a pout. “Since we were little. Our mums are best friends.”

“That’s crazy. And here I was thinking that Hye-jin was our only connection.” You shook your head with a smile.

“I’m guessing you met Namjoon when he moved in with your brother?”

“Nope,” You announced proudly. “I actually met Namjoon first.”

“Oh really?” Yoongi raised his brow.

“Yep. So, it was back in my first year and I decided that I would do something completely different with my optional modules. There was one called ‘Human Nature’ and I thought it would be fun. It was not. Anyway, Namjoon sat next to me and I thought he was a complete idiot because he lost his pen like 4 times in a minute and it was just tucked behind his ear the entire time, but he’s surprisingly smart. Anyway, he mentioned that a few guys he was living with were moving out and he needed new roommates and I told him Jungkook was looking for a room.”

“Jungkook wasn’t living with you?”

“Oh, he was.” You sighed, shaking your head. “Never again, my friend. Never again.”

“So… This party on Friday?”

You groaned, burying your head in your hands. “Don’t remind me.”

“I thought you wanted to go?”

“Oh, I do. It’s just…” You looked at Yoongi, figuring out the best way to tell him that it was going to be a complete nightmare to tell everyone you were dating. “I haven’t exactly told anyone… about us.”

“Well, that’s good, I suppose. We don’t want anyone to know it’s all fake.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean… No one knows we’re dating.”

“Oh.” Yoongi pouted as he thought.

“It’s just… I don’t really date. So, if I was just to pop up and say… ‘hey, here’s my boyfriend’, they’re going to know somethings up.”

Yoongi hummed, his fingers drumming against the bar. “I see.” He tilted his head towards you. “Jungkook already knows.”

“Don’t remind me.” You buried your head in your hands all over again. If only he hadn’t heard Yoongi introduce you to his mum as his girlfriend, then you might have got away with denying this a while longer. But no. You were going to have to go public with this charade.

You could no longer remember why you thought this was a good idea in the first place.

“I could always pick you up?” Yoongi suggested.

“And go to the party? Together?”

“No, we’d go in separately. Yes together.”

“I don’t know…”

“You’re going to have to tell your friends eventually.”

“Have you told Namjoon?”

“Of course.”

“Wait, what? Namjoon knows?”

Yoongi shrugged. “He was over for dinner and my mum was asking a load of questions, so I had to tell him that we’re dating.”

“Oh.” So that was two people who knew you were dating. Fake dating. “It’s just… Hye-jin’s going to be so mad.”

“Is she though?”

“Yeah.” She wouldn’t be mad about you dating. Oh no, she would be so excited about it. She would take charge and make sure you never left the house unless you were looking cute. No, telling her you were dating was certainly not the problem.

It was the inevitable break-up.

“Yoongi, I don’t think we’ve thought about this properly.”

“I think we’ve thought about it just fine. People get into relationships all the time, Yn.” He reached over and grabbed your hand as he stared into your eyes. “They also break-up for dumb reasons. Hye-jin will get over it.” He smiled.

“Okay. But if she wants to fight me, then you’re going to have to tell her it was all your idea.”

Yoongi chuckled. Before he could reply, Mimi came back out with two steaming bowls of Hakata ramen.

“Enjoy.” Mimi smiled as she placed the bowls in front of you.

You felt your mouth begin to water as you stared down at the bowl.

Mimi placed a bowl in front of Yoongi and, her sweet smile still in place, said, “I hope it burns your mouth.”

You choked out a surprised laugh as she walked back towards the kitchen. “Okay, what did you do to her?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I- uh. I used to play the piano here, but I had to stop.”

You hesitated. So that was why he was staring longingly at the piano. “Why?”

Yoongi picked up his chopsticks, shovelling some pork into his mouth as he thought. Eventually, he shrugged. “I just had no time anymore.”

You glanced at the piano again. “You know, I’d love to hear you play something.”

Yoongi glanced at your untouched bowl before meeting your gaze. “Stop trying to change the subject and eat up,” he scolded.

“I’m not changing the subject,” You scoffed as you pick up your chopsticks and started to move the food around in the bowl. “Why won’t you let me hear you play?” You pouted down at your food. Hye-jin had heard him play countless times. She often spoke about Yoongi’s music, the way he conveyed so much emotion through a press of a few keys.

“How about we make a deal? If you eat your bowl, I’ll play you one song.”

Your hand paused as you considered it. You were starving and all you had to do was eat in front of Yoongi. You smiled. There was absolutely nothing in this bet that would stop you from winning.

“Okay. Deal.” You placed your chopsticks down on a napkin before extending your hand to him. Reluctantly, he met your hand with a sigh and shook it twice. It was not something you were ever inclined to notice about a person, but with his hands in such proximity, you couldn’t help but notice just how soft his palms were. Soft and warm, with his long thin fingers and bitten nails.

You wondered what your mother would make of him. She would probably note that he valued his hands with the amount of care it took to keep them so soft, but perhaps it also caused him a great deal of anxiety. You tried to remember from your mother’s lectures if nail-biting was one of the outcomes from anxiety, then stopped yourself. Right now, you really didn’t need your mother’s voice in your head psychoanalysing everything.

Yoongi’s hand lingered in yours for a moment before he pulled them away and turned back to his food. With his chopsticks, he pointed down at your bowl and barked, “Eat.”

Picking up your own chopsticks once more, you selected a portion of beef and held it in the air. You could feel yourself beginning to salivate as the smell began to invade your senses, yet the urge to put the beef back into the bowl and push it away was strong. Instead, you close your eyes and shoved it into your mouth. The moment the salt tonkotsu broth touched your tongue, you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from eating. It had been so long since you had the dish, you had forgotten just how good it was.

By the time your bowl was clean, you were deliciously full and stifling a yawn.

Yoongi waved Mimi over and extended some won out to her. She shook her head.

“On the house. Just make sure you come back soon, okay?”

Yoongi nodded solemnly as Mimi took the empty bowls away. Yoongi lowered his hands, watching as Mimi made her way back to the kitchen. The moment she disappeared behind the door, he jumped up and rounded the bar.

You frowned, watching as he pressed a button on the till and the cash drawer flew open. You felt your heart plummet. Your protests were on the tip of your tongue, but you quickly bit them down as you watched him lower his money into the till. He closed the cash drawer as quickly as it had opened, and returned to his position beside you, picking up his jacket.

“Come on, let’s get you home”

“But you haven’t played yet?” you protested as you got to your own feet.

Yoongi smiled mischievously and you knew instantly that you had been tricked. “I’d said I’d play for you, not that I’d play tonight.”

“That’s not fair!” You moaned as you put on your coat and followed him out the door.

“It’s too late tonight, anyway.” Yoongi reasoned as he held the door open for you.

You glance at your phone. “It’s barely 4am.” You said calmly, but inside you were surprised. You had been with Yoongi for over two hours without realising.

“Exactly. Don’t you have a class in a couple of hours?”

“I – how did you know that?” You narrowed your eyes at him. Just how much did he know about you?

Yoongi paused just for a moment before unlocking the door and climbing into the car. He waits for you to strap yourself in before resuming.

“Whenever I worked a Monday morning shift, you usually come in asking for an expresso and down it like a shot. Then you loudly complain that it was too hot and bitter.”

“I do not do-“

Yoongi, raised his brow, challenging you to finish your sentence.

“Okay, so I do that. But how else am I supposed to survive Monday mornings?”

Yoongi smiled. “Maybe I can show you one day,” he said softly. He focused on the road in front of him, unaware of your perplexed expression.

“That’s awfully vague, Yoongi.” You folded your arms across your chest. “I’m not sure whether I should be afraid or excited?”

Yoongi said nothing more on the subject, but you noticed that the smile never quite left his face for the remainder of the drive.

<Part 10 (x) Part 12>

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AN: So I wasn’t sure what to call YN odd relationship with food as. I settled on anxiety-induced eating disorder because that’s what it is. When she’s not anxious, she doesn’t have an issue with feeding herself. But when she’s riddled with anxiety (you know, like lying to all your loved ones about a non-existent relationship will do), she tends not to eat. It can be quite problematic, especially during exam season when all she’s basically just anxiety in human form. That’s why Jin and Hye-jin are always asking if she’s eating or feeding her. They know what she’s like. 

Anyway, I thought I would just leave a little explanation at the bottom because I wasn’t sure if that all comes across in this part. 

That being said, if you’re still reading this - then thank you. I know it’s been a while since I updated this story. I can’t even guarantee when the next update will happen. So thank you for sticking around and I hope you enjoyed this part. 

[ronoken]

Fic Snippit

So, I read tow lovely comments this week and saw someone was kind enough to give me a shout out on Tumblr. So... A quick epilouge piece?

A quick epilouge piece! Comment on this, dammit.

*** 

In the really, really far future... 

Caline M. Bourgeois, age 13, stood in the wings of the Francois Dupont auditorium and wrung her hands as the act in front of her finished up. Olive was twirling the crap out of that baton and the blacklight admittedly looked awesome, but she was winding down and that meant Caline was next.

‘Fuck,’ she thought to herself.

She was in a white dress with some (but not too much) frill, accented with two bows holding her sandy blonde hair back in a ponytail. One bow was red, the other yellow. She didn’t want two bows, but her mother insisted this was the best way to keep the peace.

Caline glanced into the audience from where she was hiding, and sure enough, the whole Goddamn family was there. Grandpa, all three Grammas, dad with his phone ready to go, Aunt Emilie, Aunt Camille…

And an empty seat.

Caline frowned and felt her stomach start to knot up. Olive was bowing as the audience politely clapped. Behind her, two stagehands were wheeling out the beat-up school piano for Caline’s performance.

“She didn’t come,” Caline said.

She felt something rustle in the frills on her shoulder.

“Aw shucks, girly,” a voice with a thick, southern drawl said. “Y’all just need ta have some faith. Yer mama may be a bit flighty, but that dere woman ain’t one ta miss her own kin’s recital. No ma’am. She’ll be here. Y’all see.”

Caline smiled and patted the tiny lump hiding in her frills. “Thanks, Ziggy. But,” She looked again at the empty chair. “She’s not here.”

Ziggy popped his head out and patted Caline on the shoulder. “She will be. Jus’ give her time.”

“But I’m going on now!” Caline said, slightly panicked. Out on stage, Ms. Beauréal was going on ad nauseam about how hard the students had worked for the talent show this year, and how excited she was to introduce the next performer. “Ziggy, what do I do?”

“Ya get out there and ya play fer everyone, of course. Yall gonna let yer dad and yer grammas and grampa down?”

Caline bit her lip. Of course the whole family was there. Of course dad was recording. Of course this had to happen today.

“She knew this was important to me, Ziggs. She knew.” Caline muttered as she walked on stage. From the audience, she heard two voices cheering for her.

“Go Caline!” The first one cheered.

“You’re gonna do great! Gramma loves you!” The second one chimed in.

“I love you more!” The first voice said.

“I love you most!” The second one screamed.

There were sounds of a scuffle. Caline ignored them and turned to face the audience. Her eyes drifted to the empty chair…

And sitting there was a woman with short, light brown hair and glasses. She had her phone out to film, and she was waving.

Caline’s eyes went wide. “Mom?” She asked under her breath.

Beside her mom, Caline’s father looked practically spooked. At least one of her Grandmas was frowning and had her arms crossed while her Grandpa was busy laughing into his shoulder. He was doing his best to cover it with a cough.

Caline smiled.

“Toldja,” her shoulder whispered.

***

Out in the audience, Caline’s mom grinned as she watched her daughter being playing Nocturne No. 2 by Chopin. Caline had worked for two months with her Grandpa on the piece, and the dedication had paid off.

It didn’t hurt that Adrien was a good teacher.

“Where were you?” Marinette quietly hissed beside her daughter.

“Work,” Gina whispered back. Her eyes never left Caline as she played.

“You were almost late,” Marinette growled. “How can you of all people be late?”

“But I wasn’t,” Gina rebuffed. “And she saw me. You think I’d miss today?”

Gina didn’t have to turn her head to see the glare her mother was shooting her. She could feel it.

Gina felt a hand squeeze her shoulder. She glanced back to see Aunt Chloé smiling at her. “Ignore your mother. She’s just mad because she lost a bet.”

At that, Gina did look to her mother. “You bet I wouldn’t be here?”

Marinette blushed and crossed her arms. She turned her attention to her granddaughter on stage. “When they closed the doors, I might have been overly upset.”

Gina nudged her. “Hey, it’s me.”

“I know,” Marinette sighed.

“Shh!” Sabrina shushed them both from behind. “I’m trying to enjoy my granddaughter’s performance!”

They shut up.

Caline had barely finished up when Marinette and Chloé both rocketed to their feet, cheering and applauding wildly. Caline visibly recoiled on stage from the outpouring she was receiving from her grandmothers, but she was still smiling. Mainly because beside Gramma Marinette, her mother was also standing and applauding louder than everyone else put together. She was cheering and whistling and making a scene, and Caline was 100% loving it.

Afterwards, once the other nineteen acts were done (Aurore refused to cut any students that wanted to be on stage. Something about it not being right to deny a student their moment in the spotlight), The family group headed out for a walk by the Seine to grab some dinner and gush about the performance. All three grandmothers had argued over where to eat, but André settled things quickly by loudly asking Caline what she wanted.

So, chilidogs it was.

“Hey,” Gina said as she took a large bite. “You did great up there, sweetie. I am so, so proud of you, you don’t even know.”

Caline blushed and grinned. “Thanks. Um, hey. So, like, where were you? I didn’t think you were coming.” Her eyes drifted to Gina’s green blouse. “Um, there’s some blood on your collar.”

Gina’s smile fell a bit. “Work was a bit much tonight. Sorry about that, but I was doing my best to make sure of things. I, um, I panicked and got the time slightly wrong. Otherwise I would have been in my seat sooner. Sorry.”

Marinette’s eyebrow went up at that. “What things, exactly? Is everything okay?”

Gina nodded. “Everything is fine. Nothing interrupted the recital, and nothing is going to interrupt our dinner. We all get a nice, normal, uneventful evening to ourselves.”

Marinette was the first to catch on. “How many times did you have to go back?” She asked.

“Seven,” Gina fired right back. “It took me over four hours to figure everything out. There were gonna be two akumas tonight, and don’t get me started on the werewolf.”

“Werewolf?” Caline asked.

“There wolf,” Gina quickly replied. “Seriously, how does Aunt Alix do this?”

The group went quiet.

Gina quickly read the room. “Sorry. I know that’s a sore… Look, I know it’s weird, but I’ve honestly seen more of her since she died than I ever did before. It’s nuts in the Burrow. She was super active with monitoring time. In fact, I’m pretty sure she lived in there. Like, right before I got to the school, I ran into her.”

Adrien bit his hip. “Is she okay? Was she okay? Geez, I don’t know what the best wording is for this.”

“She was good. She was in her PJ’s and brushing her teeth. I think she’d been sleeping in a side portal again. Oh,” Gina turned to Marinette. “She also told me to tell you not to worry about your appointment next week and that it’s just a clump of fat cells. You’re okay.”

Chloé laughed a little while Marinette blushed and smirked. “That sounds like her,” the bluenette said. “But did you have to say that in front of everyone?”

Gina shrugged. “You wanna drag me for my punctuality in front of my daughter again?”

Marinette glanced at her daughter. “Touché.”

“I’m just glad you came,” Caline said. “It meant so much.”

Gina smiled and kissed her daughter on the head. “I know, sweetie.” She glanced to her husband and smiled. “I wouldn’t miss tonight for the world.”

***

Later that night, after Caline had been put to bed, Gina snuck out to the patio for a moment and slipped into a waiting portal.

“Sup, kiddo.” Alix called out from the center of the Burrow. She was transformed and kicked back in a recliner. Even though her hair had long since gone from pink to red to silver, she looked as feisty as ever. She was slurping down a smoothie and swiping through floating ovals, each showing a different moment in time. “You make it on time?”

“Would you please explain to me how the wall clock in the center of time itself is six minutes slow?” Gina huffed. She gestured to a clock floating in the void. “Seriously! I was almost late!”

“But you weren’t,” Alix pointed out. “Look, changing it means going all the way over there and taking it down and fiddling with it, and that’s just a lot of work. I’ve just gotten used to the difference, you know? And if I did it now, then that would completely mess me up going forward. I mean, I’d look at it and be off by six minutes. Screw that.” She slurped her drink.

Gina shook her head and sighed. “You were more tolerable before you died.”

“Which time?” Alix asked with a grin. “Thank you again, by the way. You’re really not supposed to redo things that often, but I do prefer being alive to dead, so no complaints.”

Gina smirked as she stood beside her favorite aunt and watched the portals with her.

“Thanks for your help tonight,” Alix said casually.

“It’s my job,” Gina replied. “You know I won’t say no.”

Alix glanced to her. “You ever get upset that I, um, that you got drafted into all this?”

Gina didn’t answer for a moment. She crossed her arms and settled in place as she thought.

“I used to think being Ladybug was the hardest of our jobs,” Gina said. She glanced to Alix. “I was so wrong.”

“Well, regardless? I’m proud of you, Gina. I always have been.” She considered Gina for a moment. “Hey, I’ve got tonight, okay? Go spend some time with your family.”

“Oh, did you see the recital?” Gina asked.

Alix smiled and swiped the portal in front of her. An image of Caline appeared as she sat at the piano. “You think I’d miss it?”

Gina smiled at her aunt and patted her on the shoulder. “Try not to stay up too late, okay?” She leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Love you, Aunt Alix. Please get some rest. Please?”

“Psssh,” Alix said as she waved her off. “Get out of here. I’ll give you a holler if anything pops up. Promise.”

Gina smiled and turned to leave. Someday, she’d have to tell this version of Alix that her version, the one that had… That wasn’t here anymore, preferred electric blue slushies, not cherry. Still, it was sweet of her to keep popping in and pretending.

Gina wasn’t sure what timeline this Alix was even from, but it didn’t matter. They were all her Aunt, after all.

Gina stopped at the entrance to her portal and glanced back to the woman who was casually kicked back in the recliner, a familiar ghost that if Gina squinted, was enough to help her to forget for a while.

“Good night, Bunnyx,” Gina called out.

“G’night, Time Bandit,” Alix called back. She toasted her with the half-finished slushie.

Smiling, Gina slipped through the portal, and back to home.

[leboutique-lily]

Class

》Jimin x dancer!reader

▪︎Summary: The joys of having a little dance studio at home in the late afternoon, you decide to give yourself some time there and Jimin happens to come home right on time.

▪︎Warnings: basically none, kisses, some teasing words, nothing much for now.

▪︎Author's note: I couldn't hold back my dancer ass, so there's a bunch of ballet technicalities and some classic composers, I'm sorry 🤷🏻‍♀️

I just needed to write this to get it out of my head, maybe I'll do it a second part with some good stuff in it.

Plié

Hold your core, knees out.

Grand plié

Keep those hips in, firm elbows and light hands. Melt like a dripping champagne all the way down and firm those feet to get up. How many things do you have to think to do a plié? More than you could imagine.

Check your en dehors, open your hips and knees, push those pelvic muscles up and keep your core engaged. Head follows the fingers of a very soft and delicate hand, and a lot more things that could fill a whole page. Oh! And breath. Very important.

All this was going through your trained head, while you started you barre after warming and stretching your muscles and joints deliciously, at home. You've got yourself a mini ballet studio, mirrors on the walls, a good brown linoleum floor and a soft grey color on the details of the room. It was light and calming, it was your safe place.

You didn't dance as a profession, but you loved since you could remember, you felt most at peace when you did. All the problems going way in the moment you put your leotard on. That was your place.

Jimin got home and was welcomed by the soft notes of Chopin's nocturne. 'Plié ' he tought, he knows how much you love that nocturne to start your exercises, it's been a week of you using only this piece to warm your body.

He couldn't resist and slowly, very silently went to your studio, opening the door enough to see you graciously going to your fifth position in your back open royal blue leotard, voil white short skirt and your beloved flats. My my... he loved seeing you dance, you look so beautiful- even more -your posture perfect, your lines soft and precise... He's beautiful ballerina.

He stays there watching you, not wanting to disturbe your moment. You only notice eyes watching you when you're at the end of the left side of your jetés, being too engrossed on do the steps right.

"Is my audience enjoying?" You say with your back to him, pushing your feet up to your knee in a passé and balancing on the other leg in a demi point. If you saw the smile that formed in his face... you certainly would've melted. No option.

He enters the room barred foot and in a flash he's behind you, holding your waist while your arms stays in fifth position up your head in a pretty round shape.

"Beautiful" you hear and feel his whisper in your ear, making you close your eyes to not fall from your position.

"Jimin, don't distract me..." you whisper back to him, his hands getting a better grip on your waist to turn you to him. Now that you're face to face with him, your arms forgotten in his shoulders and your legs still in passe, he proceeds.

"But baby, I'm helping you. See... we're working on your balance." Then you feel his plump, pillowy lips on yours and you forget about your position, legs going limp in his arms.

"Uh uh... back to balance baby. You were doing so well." He dare to smile, no... smirk at you after securing you on your center again and grabbing the side chair to seat down and watch you some more.

You nodd your head at him in disbelief, this man is such a tease... all you want to do is throw him on the floor and ride him till complexion, his lips are so soft and he smells so good- His voice brings you back to present in a teasing tone.

"Y/N-ah... you have a whole class a head. Come on, show me those beautiful lines baby." His fingers playing with his lower lip, he knows what he's doing to your mind and your body and he enjoys it, so much.

You muttered a 'fine', pouting at him and preparing yourself for the adage. He choose Schubert, a melodic slow piece and you hope that he can behave.

You take a deep breath and get yourself together for the mental journey that is the adage, this thing is not easy people.

Everything seems to be going just fine, you're going through the positions and holding your tempos nicely, Jimin is seated there transfixed on your lines, his eyes loving and attentive of every movement you do.

Once you're done, you're almost at the end of the barre and you hear a "gorgeous" in a soft tone coming from his heavenly lips. He has this power to make you feel like the best, like the most beautiful girl and the most beautiful ballerina in the world. You don't need a full audience, you just need him watching you... you can dance for him for the rest of your life and don't get tired, ever.

The feeling is mutual, he feels like he can watch you dance for him, even if it's just a barre, a class... for days nonstop. He loves to see you dance anything for him, the way your body move by memory and yet so gracefully, the way he can see you soul in every tiny thing you do inside that studio, on stage... it's his favorite thing.

You smile, eyes shining in love with him. God! You just want to squish his cheecks and kiss the hell out of him at the same time. This man...

You go to the last part, the allegro. Listen, adage is slow and difficult... but you hate allegro with every fiber of your body. So much. Its fast and precise, wich is nice... but you never were very fond of it.

And Jimin knows it. The cute, lovely vibe is gone as soon as he notices that the end is here and that means the part you dislike. So your considerate boyfriend gives you some Stravinsky and you laugh at him knowing exactly what he's doing.

"Come on baby, I know you prefer what every normal human being hates, your precious adage, but I like it fast. So be good, uh.."

You scoff, eyeing the boy who's smiling provocatively at you.

"You sneak into my class, disturb my attention and make demands? You're not my teacher baby."

"But you love when I am." His smirk grow when he sees your cheecks blushing. You close your eyes and leave it be because you know you can't beat Jimin at his own game. The flirty quality run in his blood.

He play the music and your legs go flying beautifully in your grand battlements. You're not lifting to high because you wanna take slow and gentle today, not wanting to exert yourself to much, but Jimin's not having it.

"Baby we both know your legs go much higher than that - His words referring to your extensions inside and out of the ballet class - here, let me help."

Suddenly you feel him at your back, one hand on your waist and the other extended at your side, waiting for you to lift your leg and place it in his hand. You know that the rest of your class is ruined now and really hope it is indeed. You place your leg on his hand and he start to lift higher and higher until you can see it right beside your face, almost touching your ear. The strech feels good, his hands know how much he can push you.

"See... - his hand travel from your ankle to the back of your knees and your inner tigh - so much better. Hold it, baby"

As fast as he was at your back, he's gone to his chair again. You slowly lower your leg and turn to look at him, his eyes playfull and waiting for your words.

"Can you help me cool down baby? I think I'm done for today." You ask him innocently.

He get up and walk to you, standing behind you again and guiding your movements, slow and gentle to cool off your body, his eyes never leaving yours and his lips brushing your skin here and there a few times. You let out quiet hums and moans at the stretches and the feeling of his hands massaging your muscles, his fingers expertly working on your neck and softly descending to your arms, finding place in your waist and your hips and you relax, nestling your head back in his chest with your eyes closed.

He brings your body closer, no space between you two now and you can feel something against your ass.

Seems like your little moans has made someone happy, so you decide to have some fun and arch your back as if you're doing one more strech and press your ass against he's hard cock. You hear him inhale and feel his hands tightening on your hips.

"Thank you baby... you're great!" You say turning and giving him a quick kiss on those plump lips and go to the door to take a shower leaving Jimin standing in front of the mirror looking at your reflection.

Oh no... you're not gonna leave like this. Before you can comprehend what is happening, he grab your hand and push you back, taking a hold on your waist and lifting you from the floor.

"Jimin! What are you doing?!"

You place your arms around his neck to secure yourself, his eyes holding a mischievous desire, then he places you on the bar fixed to the wall, going for a little bite on your lower lip.

"I'm not done with you baby, we have a long way till the end of this class."

🌸

[dear-mrs-otome]

Hi, congratulations on your 2k followers 🌟. This is just a small reflection of your great talent. If you feel inspired to write something for Leonardo, how about writing him a little jealous? Maybe Theo can be blamed for this.😏 Thank you and Congrats!

SO FUNNY STORY you guys both requested Leonardo and I set out intending this to be mostly Leonardo but then Theo had to come and make it a-lot-about-him…being a scene stealer like he always is. 

Long story short, please forgive me for not making this 100% Leonardo - I hope you still both enjoy it anyways! If anyone wants to send me a request, my inbox is open for the month of September

~~~~

The grand ballroom glittered, lights high above in the gently-arched ceiling mimicking the stars you could just see outside the grand balcony doors, thrown open to air out the warmth of so many bodies in a small space. Dresses in every color of the rainbow swirled and fluttered about the dance floor, like a swarm of butterflies prancing amongst a garden in bloom, the strains of one of Chopin’s waltzes floating almost as airily between them. 

And you were…

Leaning against the wall, tapping your toes to the compelling rhythm and drowning a sigh in a sip of your champagne. You’d wanted to come - you were glad you had. The crown jewel in this lovely evening would have been a turn about the dance floor, a chance to live out your period-piece fantasies in real life.

But your vampire lover was far from amenable to the idea.

Over your shoulder you could hear the distinctive laugh of the vampire in question, and out of the corner of your eye spy Leonardo’s tall frame standing out from the crowd that had gathered around him. It was more than half of what appealed about him to you - the way his magnetism drew people in, how he fascinated everyone. But it was partly what drove you crazy about him too, when you had to share his time with so many other strangers.

Swallowing down the petty thoughts with another sip of champagne, you let your eyes drift around the room. You could see Arthur in a shadowed alcove, his lips scandalously close to the ear of a tittering young thing. Saint-Germain was holding court over a throng of his own adorers, Vincent was plucking a few artful tidbits from the platters carried amidst the crowd by servants, and his ever-present brother drifted along silently behind him like a shadow. 

Over the rim of your glass, pale eyes suddenly met yours, and you flicked your gaze away uncomfortably.

It was hard to say just what about the younger van Gogh unsettled you, but Theo did. Perhaps it was the gruff, irritating nicknames he always came up with for you. Or just the quiet intensity that always clung to him, like a cloak. The faint air of danger that lurked just below the veneer of his civility - as if a wolf had deigned to accept the leash.

Turning away from that piercing stare, you went out to the balcony for some fresh air.

You were leaning against the railing, looking out over the manicured gardens awash in moonlight, before you sensed someone and turned to find a darkened figure standing backlit in the doorway.

“So this is where you tucked tail and ran off to.”

There was only one person you knew who would make a comparison like that, and you sighed. “I’m not a dog, Theo.”

He ambled close enough for you to see him arch one brow. “Then why are you out here looking like a puppy that just got kicked?” Turning around, he rested his weight against the balustrade beside you and folded his arms across his chest as he fixed you with a look. “What’s wrong?”

And maybe it was the strangely comforting anonymity of the night outside, or the second glass of champagne you were working through that had words tumbling from your lips before you realized it. Spilling your thoughts to the last person you’d have thought interested in hearing them. “It’s…just that it is a ball, after all. It seems a shame to come to one and not dance, even just a song.”

Theo grunted pensively. “And Leonardo’s not exactly one for dancing.”

“No…” you agreed, and regretted how miserable it sounded before lapsing back into silence.

It was broken a moment later by Theo’s gusty exhale. A hand raked through his hair, and then he pushed away from the banister and held a crooked elbow out towards you. “Well?” he prompted, after you simply stared.

“Well what?” you echoed, perplexed.

“Do you want to dance or not, hondje?”

“You can dance?” You didn’t mean to sound so incredulous, but it happened.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing, nothing…” You waved his suspicion off. “You just don’t exactly seem the sort.”

“Social gatherings are important to any merchant. And dancing is usually expected. So, yes or no? I’m not waiting all night for you to make up your mind.”

It was far from the most gratuitous offer you’d ever heard, but then…was it any surprise? The real surprise was that you accepted, reaching up to settle your hand over the quiet solidarity of his still-proffered forearm as he led you back inside, through the throngs of people. 

“I’m not very good,” you warned him with a grimace as you both came to a stop in an open space on the parquet floor.

His mouth twitched, before he smothered the smile you suspected had almost broken free. “Any dog can learn new tricks, if they can obey commands.” He turned, grasped your hand fully and guided you into a proper frame, before angling a slightly wicked grin down at you. “Just follow my lead.”

The first tinkling measure of the waltz flitted past, cajoling you to come along, and Theo pulled you into motion - your steps uncertain at first, but quickly growing more bold. He was a good partner, leading confidently enough that you could simply surrender to the rhythm and the music, until you didn’t bother hiding the smile that grew on your face.

Who would have thought, only just earlier this evening, that you’d be enjoying anything with the acerbic Theo?

And on the next round, the world spun for a moment as he twirled you with a slight flourish, setting you stumbling slightly at the end. A strong arm wrapped around your waist, his broad hand splayed just over the flare of your hip as you steadied yourself against his chest.

“You know, knabbeltje…” His voice was so close, so low, it startled you into looking up. A mistake - for you were now floundering in a fathomless sea of blue, nearly drowning. Breathless. “If there are things you want in this life, you can’t just wait for them to fall into your lap. You have to do something about it.”

The rest of the room seemed to fall away as the hand on your hip tightened, almost imperceptibly. 

“Do you mind if I cut in?”

Leonardo’s smooth basso proceeded his shadow falling over the both of you, and when you turned it was to find an expression on his face you couldn’t quite place - save for that it wore the mask of a smile almost seamlessly.

“Not at all.” A satisfied smirk ghosted around the very edges of Theo’s lips as he handed you off to the other vampire. “It took you long enough.” He nodded his head at you in a surprisingly gallant gesture, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and sauntering off. 

For the first time ever, you saw something like uncertainty flash acoss Leonardo’s face, as the strains of music continued and the couples whirled, parting and merging around you unerringly as if you were two stones in a stream. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the music died away, and relief softened the crease between Leonardo’s brows.

“Do you want to get some air?” he suggested.

“Yes, please.” You took the hand he offered you gratefully, and he led you off the floor towards the broad balcony doors you’d come in from a bit before. The air outside was a blessing on your heated cheeks, swaddling you in the cool silk of darkness, and the glittering rainbow you could glimpse through the glass seemed like a far-off dreamscape.

“So…Theo?” Leonardo began.

“Believe me, I was as surprised as you are.”

“I’m not surprised, cara mia. Not really.” But before you could puzzle out just what he meant, he continued. “If you wanted to dance, why didn’t you just say something?” He lifted you into his arms, pulling a squeak of surprise from you as he chuckled. 

“Leonardo, this isn’t dancing,” you pointed out, as he began to turn in slow circles, still holding you easily.

His lips quirked. “Are you really complaining?”

“No…” Resigned, you looped your arms around his neck and tipped your face up expectantly towards his. He nosed at the line of your cheekbone before his mouth found yours and caught you up in a slow, gentle kiss.

“Don’t dance with anyone else, cara mia,” he murmured into the tiny breath you stole. “I know I don’t have any right to ask you that, but let me be this selfish.”

“Then…” Theo’s good advice echoed in your head, stiffening your spine with courage, and you drew a bracing breath. “Dance with me properly. I don’t care if you’re bad or good, I just want to share this with you.” You wriggled out of his arms and did your best imitation of the gentlemen inside, bowing with a hand proferred towards Leonardo and the beginnings of a cheeky grin. “May I have this waltz, good sir?”

He laughed softly - a bit helplessly - and took your hand to draw you close, an arm around your waist. “Very well. But the bruises on your feet are on you.”

And maybe he did step on your toes, maybe he didn’t - you wouldn’t have noticed either way when you were so caught up in the smile he wore as you both turned about the balcony, your heart singing counterpoint to the faint melody that drifted out from inside. The two of you like earthbound reflections of the stars wheeling slowly overhead.

~~~

Through glass doors and revelry, two sets of identical blue eyes watched the shadowy pair outside, caught up in their own little world.

“What did you say to her?” Vincent wondered aloud.

Theo only shrugged, and half-drowned his answer in a sip of his drink. “That if she wanted something, to just go after it. It’s exhausting, watching her constantly jump through hoops to avoid rocking the boat.”

Vincent studied his younger brother knowingly for a long moment, before a rue-tinged smile crept onto his face. “Oh, Theo. When will you learn to take your own advice sometimes?”

Theo pulled his attention from the couple to let it land on Vincent for a moment, his mouth open as if to say something. But it died away before he did, and he merely shrugged again in silence, turning his back on the scene outside to stride off until his figure was lost amongst the crowds once more.

~~~~

Thank you for reading - if you enjoy my work, you can find more in the ‘Masterpost’ linked in my blog description

[andy-loves-corgis]

All of The Lights - Ch 7 (TRR AU)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Looks like something is BLOSSOMING

Rating: M (I can’t make them not curse  I guess…)

Word count: ~ 5,400 (I did it because I love you!)

Notes: If you’re still here, you’re the real MVP.

WARNING: Read the Prologue! Every chapter has TWO timelines, Before (about a year before the Prologue) and After (two years after the prologue), if you don’t pay attention to that you might get confused!

BEFORE

She felt his rough hands caressing her tighs, a flush of goosebumps erupting from her naked skin, as his fingers found her core a surging heat spread through her veins, she moaned loudly, leaning her face towards his, his brown locks soaked as his stubble scratched her cheeks.

A name desperately forming on her throat as his lips ravaged her neck...

“Drake!”

Riley woke up in a jolt fleeing her bed as soon as her eyes opened, stumbling on covers and her orthopedic boot.

She sucked the air into her lungs almost forcefully, her hands traveling to her chest and neck. It was all too real.

What in seven hells was that?

She marched to her bathroom still feeling the heat from her dream, her cheeks were flustered as she checked herself on the mirror, refusing to think more of it; it was just a dream.

Still, she sat on her bed wrapped in her towel, refusing to let it go, but still not perfectly acknowledging that she had a wet dream with her best friend in the main role.

“Riley!”  Someone shouted opening her door and immediately closing it.

“WHAT?” She yelled back, before realizing that just like her dream, it was Drake there.

“Hum... sorry” she heard his muffled voice outside the door. “You told me to pick you up at 9, and it’s 9:10... I thought you were ready.”

Her dream consumed much of her head during what was supposed to be a quick shower.

“Give me 5 minutes” she quickly pulled the fasteners of her orthopedic boot, putting on some cotton pants.

She put the boot back with the satisfaction of knowing it would be the last time.

Opening the door she could see Drake  leaning on the corridor wall, texting someone, she wondered who.

“Shall we?” Drake offered his hand to her but she declined pretending to look at something in her purse.

It was just a fucking dream, Riley.

“Are you excited?” He asked after a few minutes of silence in the car. “You got to take it off before the end of social season!”

Riley loosened up to his cheerful smile.

“I can’t wait to get this shit off of me!” She smiled back at him and reached for his pack of gum.

As they waited for the doctor, Riley fought the urge of asking who Drake was texting again, thanking God as Dr Ramsey welcomed her.

He was a very handsome, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes like hers, but had no talent for small talk, he simply guided them to pair of chair in front of his desk as he analyzed her x-rays.

“Good, you can stop using the boot, as long as you compromise on not putting too much pressure on your left foot.” Dr Ramsey said after some time.

“So, I still can’t dance?” She asked just to be sure, as Drake snorted at the incredulous face the doctor made.

“You can’t even wear heels, Lady York.” Dr. Ramsey pondered. “There’s still half of the journey for your recovery, you will still need to be careful.”

“Oooookay, it was worth the try!” Riley laughed it out looking expectantly at her encased leg. “Come on, take it off for good now”

Dr. Ramsey chuckled and made sure to unfasten the boot in seconds; the feeling of her ankle and foot coming in contact with fresh air for real this time was freeing to say the least. She felt Drake’s reassuring hand on her shoulder as the doctor moved her food to take a deeper look, in a reflex she hissed and covered her mouth.

“Well, still wanna dance?” Dr. Ramsey asked mid chuckle. “It’ll hurt for a few more days, as you’ll regain the full movements, I advise you to be careful with the pain medicines during this time, pain is an indication that you’re going too far.”

“Okay, are you renewing the prescription or will I be fine with regular painkillers?” Riley asked and Drake shifted in the seat by her side.

“I’ll renew it for another dose only, you should be fine after that” Dr Ramsey answered signing her a new prescription and her records. “You’re good to go, Lady Riley. Enjoy your day!”

“Thanks Dr!” She shook his hand followed by Drake.

She gave a tentative step with her injured ankle, feeling her muscles and bones protest the weight, uncomfortable but bearable, she walked slowly behind Drake who would patiently wait for her every few steps.

“Hey, thank you for driving me here, I mean I know I have a driver who could’ve done it, but... I was scared that maybe press would follow me” she was now more comfortable around him, even though her dream was  still creeping up on her mind like a foggy memory.

“I owed you”

“And I’m your best friend” she offered him a full-teeth smile and chuckled, he pretended not to see, but the corners of his mouth insisted on going upwards.

Riley felt content in that small minute, getting comfortable on the shotgun seat of his black Silverado, her right foot up the dash, the city buildings and trees passing by, sun shining behind Drake’s head, almost like a golden aura. Suddenly his hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her arm close to him, she was startled but trembled in anticipation, but of what?

“Feet on the ground, York”  he gently kissed the back of her hand, making her silently suck on a breath.

By the time he tossed her arm back on her lap, her foot was down, but not the lingering feeling on her hand.

“Do you have a suit for tomorrow?” Riley tried to brush off the awkwardness she was feeling.

“I have a suit... I’m not really sure if it is for tomorrow or not” Drake smirked.

“It’s Madeleine’s big day!” The sentence came out less enthusiastic than she meant.

“You mean ‘Leo’s big day’, right? Tell me he’s not choosing that snake.”

“Drake!” She slapped his arm. “She’s not that bad, you need to see through her layers.”

“Like an onion?”

Riley burst out laughing and Drake followed through. Maybe she was just too happy to have her foot back, or she was just wishing very hard for the awkwardness to go away.

“So, what are you going to do today? I don’t have classes.” Drake asked parking his truck on the staff entrance. “We can hang out”

“I have violin lessons this afternoon” she bit her bottom lip.

“Oh, ok. Leo invited me for a drink tonight, that poor guy is a mess” Drank jumped out of the car and moved to help Riley to the ground. “Now that you spoiled me the end of this social season I can see why.”

She winced as her feet touched the ground, sucking on a breath, but in a blink of an eye Drake was there to help.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” He said at the palace doors after helping Riley on the stairs.

“The palace is not that big” she laughed and  waved her goodbyes.

The air left her lung before she even acknowledged she was holding her breath, closing her eyes forcefully she tried to even her breath, she wasn’t supposed to be feeling like this.

She grabbed her violin in her room and examined the gash, now partly cured, on her hand, Drake was right, it would definitely leave a scar.

“Hey Maddie!” Riley exclaimed surprised to find Madeleine outside the music room. “I didn’t expect to see you here, shouldn’t you be preparing or something?”

“I can’t stop my daily activities because of the Social Season, it would send a wrong message to the court, a good Queen would never falter on her duties.”

Thank God I will never be queen.

Mr. Chenson, their music tutor allowed them in the room along with a couple of other younger students.

“What’s that on your hand?” Madeleine pointed at her right hand with her bow.

“I had an accident at Maveen last week, slapped a flute.” Riley answered absentmindedly adjusting the pegs.

“Was it before or after your argument with Liam?” One of her blonde eyebrows was up. “You know you’ll have to talk to him and apologize eventually right?”

“I have nothing to apologize for, Madeleine” Riley said flatly. “Liam’s first priority is himself, but he also wants my priority to be him. Besides, in a few months I’ll be leaving to New York, so it’s better if we just keep things this way.”

“First, Liam’s priority is Cordonia, you can’t ask him to make you a priority. Second, this childish New York tantrum needs to stop, you know you’re not serious. You’re no going.”

Riley was baffled by her words, but couldn’t retort since Chopin was apparently calling for their instruments attention.

Distraction loomed over Riley the whole practice, which earned her a series of scowls from Mr. Chenson every time she missed a beat.

“Riley, about what I said...” Madeleine used the tone that was supposed to sound like an apology, but the “sorry” part would never come. What would come was something along ‘you know I want what’s best for you’.

“We’re late for tea” Riley cut her before being patronized even more.

They walked by each other’s side until they reached the sitting room where they were serving the tea, Madeleine turned on her heels to sit with the Royal Family along with the other participants of the Social Season.

For a second Liam’s eyes locked on hers, but he rapidly disconnected them, not even nodding to acknowledge her presence, suddenly she felt very tired and contemplated leaving.

“Lady Riley, here!” Penelope waved and a small smile crept on Riley’s lips as she moved towards the table. “Oh, I see you are healed, that’s such good news!”

Penelope had always been a sweetheart to her, Riley made a mental note to spend more time with her. The chat was light, shifting from Riley’s healing ankles to Penelope’s poodles back in Portavira.

For a second Riley forgot the cutting tension that was leaving so many of her closest people on edge. Tomorrow was to be life-changing, it has been years since Constantine held the last Social Season for himself, 15 years that he has been married to Regina, a Countess who has always been in love with him.

Now it was time for Madeleine, everyone knew there was no way it wouldn’t be her, she had trained her whole life for it, not that any true feeling of love towards Leo was being taken into account, maybe every time she said she was in love with him, it was just by his position as next in line.

Riley felt her venomous thoughts in her tongue. No, she wouldn’t think that bad of her best friend, even though Madeleine felt like she could control her life or her choices.

Feeling rather antisocial, she locked herself for the remaining hours, most of them were spent looking at her unfinished canvas. She was drawing a horse, parts of the paper were already gray from being erased and redrawn over and over. It had been a few years since she had left it for the ballet.

The idea of drawing came from the feeling of constant taming, constantly wanting to be free, she didn’t know of what.

Her particularly awkward dream wasn’t remembered until after dinner, when Riley decided to wander around the castle grounds near one of the pools, first to train her ankle, which was aching; second, because she was bored as hell and third, because she needed inspiration to finish her painting.

And she found inspiration indeed.

“I’m not doing that, Leo!” She heard Drake exclaiming between laughs.

“Come on, Drake! You know the rules, you lost the bet, besides, I’ll order you to do it, I’m your future King!” She heard Leo slur.

That was when Drake took off his shirt, chugging the remainder of his whiskey, and got down on the floor for push-ups.

“Well well well, is this an orgy and I wasn’t invited?” Olivia’s voice was the only thing that could’ve made Riley’s eyes move from Drake’s muscles.

“My dear Liv, you would be the FIRST invitee of my orgy” Leo pulled Olivia’s head to soundly kiss her cheek.

“I hope I would be the second” Riley made her presence known, a scowl forming on Liv’s face and Liam avoiding her eyes.

“Of course baby sis, otherwise I probably would never have the opportunity to look at that without all this.” Leo sized her up and she smacked his arm. Drake got up from the ground instantly.

“Gross, Leo.”

“Did I hear ‘orgy’?” Maxwell’s voice was heard nearby, coming closer with Penelope and Kiara.

“Well, now that’s a party!” Leo yelled, then noticed his cup empty and taking Rashad’s full one from his hand.

“The booze is over!” Drake shouted over his shoulder from the cooler.

“Au Contraire” Maxwell winked showing a couple of bottles of wine.

Riley had the feeling this little gathering wouldn’t end up well.

“Lets play a game.” Said Kiara reaching for a deck of cards from the table.

“Queen’s Cup will be perfect” pointed Rashad already sitting on the ground.

Riley almost fell to her butt trying not to pressure her ankle, she sat between Leo and Rashad, in front of Drake.

“I don’t know this game” Penelope, who was already a little drunk stated.

“Just follow the lead.” Maxwell patted her knee.

They used a bowl that was holding ice as the cup and put it at the center of their circle.

“I’m the King, I’ll start” Leo eagerly pulled a card from the deck. “8 of spades, everyone drinks”

They sipped from their own glasses, Leo spilled wine on his shirt, his stupor rising by the minute. Maxwell was next.

“3 means ME. So I guess I’ll drink” he shrug. “When will people start to lose their clothes?”

Maxwell was as bad as Leo.

“I got a 4!” Penelope exclaimed, everyone put their hands on the ground as fast as they could and Penelope looked puzzled.

“Drink!” Rashad laughed.

“That’s not fair!” Penelope sighed and took a gulp from the cup.

Next was Drake.

“Seven” he let the card fall in front of him wincing and a choir of ‘ohh’ echoed.

“What?” Penelope asked.

“Seven means Heaven, next person who takes a card will be locked with Drake somewhere for 7 minutes.” Liam answered. “I hope it isn’t me!”

“Who’s more eager now? Kiara or Beaumont?” Olivia laughed scornfully, sipping her own wine.

“Drake’s not my type, Olivia!” Maxwell faked a toast and drank from his own cup.

“Waaaait, I’m confused. Do you like boys or girls?” Penelope asked, her eyes already hazy.

“Why not both, dear Penny?” Maxwell laughed.

Liam took a 6.

“6 means True. Liam will have to answer a question truthfully” Kiara explained to Penelope.

“Great! How many time have you cheated on Lady Riley?” Neville asked with a smirk.

The circle went silent and Riley felt red rising on her face, quickly using her cup to cover her face.

“Never” Liam answer blatantly, “While in a relationship with her I never been with anyone.”

At least that was what she hoped.

“Whatever” Olivia said with a scowl. “I got an A”

“Oh! I dare you to kiss Liam.” Kiara laughed, and Riley tried to remain stoic. “It’s not like you and Riley are together, right?” She added to Liam.

“I’m literally here for the booze” Riley added rolling her eyes and pulling her pack of cigarettes from her shorts.

There was no time to give it the first drag before Olivia’s lips were on Liam’s. It turned Riley’s stomach upside down, but she didn’t avert her eyes from it, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“I’m hoping for a Seven for you Lady Kiara!” Leo exclaimed as she reached for the deck.

“Another 3” she tried to hide her disappointment while drinking her wine.

“I got a Queen. My rule is you can’t say anyone’s name anymore.”

“Come on, Neville!” Leo feigned surprise. “Oops, I drink”

“8! Everyone drinks” when Rashad’s voice got into Riley’s ear she felt that sweet wave of alcohol run through her, when did her cup get empty?

She reached for the deck laughing, although it died as she saw her card.

No fucking way.

As her card got down on the ground, a mix of laughter and surprised sounds erupted.

Obviously the destiny thought it would be fun for her to draw a Seven.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Leo shouted like a drunk frat boy.

Liam’s lips where a thin line as his gaze pierced through her, Olivia smirk growing by the second.

“Come on lucky guys!”

Riley didn’t have time to process as Leo pulled her up by the arm and led her and Drake to the shed with the pool equipment, she doubted one person could fit comfortably there.

It was cramped to say the least. Her back hit the side of the shed, her elbow pressed beside the shelves as Drake towered over her, pressing his chest fully to her.

“At least, it wasn’t Neville.” Drake said to her cheek a few seconds after Leo closed the door, leaving them in the dark.

Riley laughed, the sound reverberating between them. The unease came next as the heat of his body started to spread in her chest, she moved trying to pull her weight from her left ankle, she moved again just to have something to think about, anything other than her dream.

As she moved again, she felt his hand grip her arms.

“For the love of God, Riley. Stop moving!” his voice was urgent near her ear, she got goosebumps.

“I’m uncomfortable” she basically sighed in answer.

“It’s about to get a lot more uncomfortable if you keep brushing yourself...” he couldn’t finish his answer.

It took a few seconds for Riley to understand, and the heat started to come from her, the buzz from all the wine she drank making her head spin. She moved again, just curious about his reaction.

He gripped her arm again, stronger this time.

“Riley...” it was a warning and she felt the urge to press her tights together.

“Well well well” she found herself whispering in his ear. “Drake Walker finds me attractive.”

Feeling bold from the alcohol, a mixture of excitement and curiosity, she lightly brushed the corner of her lips to him.

And the door was open.

“Time’s up, lovebirds. I won this shit!” Leo slurred stumbling on his own feet.

Drake laughed loudly and she followed him, being able to breathe. When they came back the group was dissolving.

“Hope you didn’t give her all of our Polo strategies, Drake” Maxwell said to Drake. “I know that’s all you ever talks about and Lady Riley fraternizes with the enemy.”

She didn’t understand if he was trying to save them, or if that was an encrypted message. She couldn’t think straight, just waving them a good night as Liam tried to hold Leo.

Stumbling her way to her room, Riley let the her mind drift to her music class, she had to get together that Chopin song, and finish her canvas. She needed to focus.

Her back hit the mattress and suddenly it all hit her back.

What in the fucking Hell had just happened?

AFTER

“Were you out of your mind, Riley??” Duchess Annabelle’s voice held that tone she used solely to antagonize Riley.

“I have literally no idea of what you’re talking about” Riley answered annoyed, looking at her mother from the corner of her eyes while brushing her hair on her vanity.

“Do you know the repercussion of that video? I have a meeting with a lawyer in an hour to put it down.”

Riley felt relieve wash over her and softened her expression.

“They had no right to release that footage, we should also sue them for defamation.” With a last stroke of the brush she turned to her mother.

“The rehab video? That was the easier to take down, I’m talking about that masterpiece you recorded with the whole ‘I’m just a human’ message!” Her mother growled, Riley felt like she was punched on the stomach. “This is not protocol! And that money isn’t yours to spend!”

“ ‘That’s not protocol’? What did you want me to do? Issue a statement telling I was ‘deeply saddened that my privacy was invaded’ while the morning news ripped me for being shipped out without my knowledge to another country to a fucking luxury rehab?” Riley’s voice was rising by the minute as she moved towards her mother. “Should I have stated that my OWN MOTHER sent me in an induced coma across the ocean to get rid of the bad reputation of having a depressed daughter?”

Her face was red and she felt a knot on her throat, but she wouldn’t give her mother the satisfaction. Riley didn’t know if she ever saw her mother cry.

“You better recompose yourself before I decide you’re not in condition to make decisions again” her mother’s voice was low and cold.

Riley started trembling, anger overpowering her every sense, her brow rose and she took a step closer to Annabelle.

“I’m going to say this just once: I’m not afraid of you anymore, you’ve taken too much from me already. That money? It’s mine, this estate? It’s mine. Even your title is mine, I’m a York by blood and if you EVER again try to stripe me of my right to make decisions, I’ll fight to take it all from you.” Head held high, nostrils flaring and her hands in fists by her side, that’s how her mother left Riley in her room without another word.

A shaky breath left Riley’s lips, her vision blurred from the rush of adrenaline running through her veins.

“Your Grace, is everything alright?” She heard Gladys voice and got back to the reality.

“Yes... Yes Gladys, please tell Hans I need him to take me back to the palace.

It was still 1pm, too early to drink wine, so she chose to just stuck her nails on the leather backseat of her car.

When did her own home became so hostile? Flashes of scream battles with her mother, things breaking, the hot sting on her cheek where she was slapped.

I should let the past die.

But she couldn’t, the past was the only thing holding her back, before the unknown she needed to get the truth.

Leaving the car she found out she had walked in on Liam and Madeleine’s engagement photoshoot, because her day hadn’t been awkward enough.

“Lady York, send a message for the couple!” Ana DeLucca exclaimed and her face mechanically put on a smile.

“They look adorable! #relationshipgoals!” Riley waved and moved towards the entrance.

As if the fucking groom wasn’t shoving his tongue on my throat two weeks ago.

Putting on a bathing suit from her drawers and throwing on some tracksuit she left the palace building faster than she could.

Once again she found herself on the beach, sitting on the shore, water hitting her from time to time. She remembered to breathe, concentrating on how the air filled than left her lungs.

“You tattooed a Hamilton quote.”

She was startled and almost hit Drake’s legs when she turned, her lips formed a question, but he just pointed out at her back.

“I wouldn’t take you for someone who would remember Hamilton Lyrics, Drake” she realized he must’ve been swimming when she arrived, salt water as dripping from his body.

“You made me watch it three times” he shrugged. “I wouldn’t take you as someone who would get a tattoo.”

In a subconscious move, he cleaned the water on the tattoos in his upper arm.

It was Riley’s turn to shrug and turn her head back to the ocean.

“Did you get the information I needed to look for Sav?” She broke the silence, still not looking at him directly.

“Not yet, I’m gathering all the information I have before sending you the... case.”

“Well, thank you Detective Walker!” Riley chuckled, but dismissed him nonetheless. “I’ll reach you as soon as I have someone to interrogate.”

“Yeah... bye, York”

She breathe again.

I am the one thing in life I can control.

Riley couldn’t tell how longer she stayed at the beach, trying to meditate, to forget and to remember at the same time.

5 messages lingered unopened on her cellphone, she hasn’t checked it in hours.

3 were from Maxwell:

Hey Blossom

Where are you?

Do you think God takes all dogs as pets in Heaven?

1 was from Hana.

Hey R, how are you? We are a little worried, reach out when you can, ok?

1 was from Liam.

Can I see you tonight?

The night had fell outside her window and suddenly she felt too tired to deal with any of the messages, she grabbed some chocolate on her purse, barely feeling the sweet taste on her tongue before laying her head on her pillow, drifting off to sleep.

Suffocating, that’s how she felt getting up, droplets of sweat rising from her chest, her feet led her blindingly through the pitch black room, hands slamming on the balcony door as she gasped on the cool night air.

Riley felt like throwing up.

Once again she saw the trailing red against the bright yellow of her old car, there were also brown leather shoes, she recalled the footsteps, the sound making her guts wrench.

Waking up wasn’t much better, the balcony beside her room silent.

She tried to even her breath. Kicking herself mentally for once again relying on the occupant of the room next to her.

That door is closed, Riley.

On her own. That’s what she was, she thought as she frantically pulled clothes from the drawer, it would take hours before the sun came, and it was best if she just stayed in her room, the palace wasn’t safe.

But she decided against it, her room was cramping her, so Riley tiptoed on the corridor, remembering all the times she had done this on years prior.

To play with Madeleine.

To meet Liam.

To meet Drake.

Strange to think that she lost all of them.

I’m the architect of my own Hellscape.

The chill night air made goosebumps erupt from the skin of her arms; barefoot she felt the grass crisp below her feet as she made her way to a white bench placed beside peonies on the garden.

Pulling both knees to her chest and resting her chin on them, Riley just watched the time pass.

“You’re just depressing to spy on” a voice startled her.

“Olivia!” Riley exclaimed, finding the redhead standing partially covered by a column  not far from her. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question, but your answer would probably be rather boring.” She got closer and Riley noticed a bottle of wine in her hand.

“I had a bad dream.” Riley said and Olivia snorted sitting beside her.

While Riley was wearing sweatpants and a loose Henley shirt, a typical just-woke-up assemble, Olivia looked like she never went to sleep, with her button-down shirt and pants.

“Was it about that movie you watched when we were kids, with girl who came out of the TV?” Olivia started after some time, offering her bottle of wine.

Riley chuckled accepting her offer and taking a swig.

“No” she answered, her hand traveling to the back of her head, finding the line of the scar on her scalp. “But I’d rather it was.”

Olivia sighed.

“We never finished our conversation that day.” The redhead lowered her tone and an awkward silence fell between them.

“Are you still with Liam?” Riley blurted out, not knowing why.

“Are you?” Olivia shot a brow up. “Heard you two got cozy in your room before Madeleine’s birthday.”

Riley sighed and took another swig from the bottle.

“I didn’t come back for him, but apparently no one got the memo, him included”

“How about Walker?”

Riley bit her tongue not to say ‘it’s complicated’, because it wasn’t, it was rather simple, actually.

“He hates me me” she answered truthfully. “I don’t blame him, I hate myself sometimes too.”

“He was crap when you left, Liam was too.” Olivia took the bottle from Riley’s hand. “Guess they bonded over you not giving a damn about any of them.”

“I gave a damn” Riley whispered. “At some point in my life I’ve loved them both.”

“You just didn’t love yourself enough to stay alive.” Olivia’s words hit Riley like a slap on the face, she always knew it to be true, but hearing it made her stomach churn. “When I found you leaving the hospital that day, you were ok, then in the palace you were just... not ok at all.”

“I don’t recall meeting you here, just the hospital.” In fact, Olivia was the first person she  encountered after the hospital took her father’s body; she was smoking outside, clearing her face from the wetness of her tears. That day Olivia simply put her hand on Riley’s shoulder, looking deep in her eyes and said ‘I know’.

“I did, a couple of hours before... you know, before Walker found you.” Olivia gave Riley a very uncomfortable glance. “You were completely... out, I mean, your eyes, if the blood on your hand hadn’t crept me out, your eyes certainly did.”

Riley didn’t answer. Her head running too fast.

“Are you sure my hand was bleeding?”

“No, it wasn’t bleeding, there was just blood all over it.” Olivia’s stare was far from Riley. “Then you just left, I asked you if you were ok, you just snapped out of trance and left.”

The thump of Riley’s heart was echoing through all her body.

“Riley? RILEY!” Olivia called, but Riley was already on her feet moving back towards her room.

“Sorry, Liv. I gotta go, but thank you!” She answered the redhead out of breath, million things running through her head.

It was almost impossible to control her breath as she almost jogged to her room, not paying attention she collided with someone on the way.

“Whoa!” She heard Drake’s voice as she tried to steady herself on the wall.

“Oh sorry! So sorry Drake!” She apologized quickly “this doesn’t count as touching, right?”

His brows were knitted together.

“I swear I didn’t mean to touch you, but I can’t afford to let you leave my case now!” Drake kept silent looking at some point on her shoulder. “Olivia told me she saw me with blood in my hands that day, I’m not crazy, my dream isn’t a dream!”

“Wait, what?” He moved his eyes to her face, but something was still bothering him.

“The dream of the blood in my car, it’s probably a memory, which means hope, right? That I will remember what happened... and you’re still helping me right?” Subconsciously she moved towards her bedroom.

“Yeah...” he averted his gaze from her.

She stopped at her doorknob, not far from where he stood, anxiety like ice on her stomach.

“Is everything ok, Drake?” She wished to just know why running through her at that time in the morning was bothering him so much.

He scowled, seemingly weighing his next words.

“This shirt is mine.” He nod to the Henley clad to her frame.

“Oh. Hum... You sure? I didn’t know” Drake nodded uncomfortable. “I can give it back though.”

“No need to.” He cut her and got back to his room without another word.

Riley slowly stepped into her room, her fingers absentmindedly running through the white fabric.

Finally a silver lining. __________ I love you guys! Tagging the amazing: @drakewalkerrosenberg​​; @sleepwalkingelite​​; @agent-bossypants​​; @pug-bitch​​; @rtinaz​​; @saivilo​​; @iplaydrake​​; @likethetailofacomet​​; @notoriouscs​​; @mind-reader1​​; @annekebbphotography​​; @walkerismychoice​​; @tmarie82​​; @blackwidow2721​​; @thequeenchoices​​; @missameliep​​; @jovialyouthmusic​​; @perksof-everything​​; @choicesmacmakes​​; @carabeth @drakenazario​​; @drakesensworld​​; @moneyfordiamonds​​; @ao719​​; @lynne1993​​; @ilovedrakewalker23​​; @msjpuddleduck​​; @drakewalkerisreal​​; @violinist3121; @wannabemc2​​; @gibbles82​​; @furiousherringoperatortoad​​; @jens-diamondchoices​​; @rainbowsinthestorm​​; @bee1arw​​; @world-of-dreams-and-muse​​; @pintobomb @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​​; @emceesynonymroll​​;; @addictedtodrakefanfic​​; @texaskitten30​​; @dcbbw​​; @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​​; @kimmiedoo5;

[laughing-with-god]

Pandemonium XI

Words; 3.4k

“I don’t want to repeat my innocence.  I want the pleasure of losing it again.” 

The tension in the room always seemed to follow Namjoon.  

It was as if he carried the marvelous ability to take the thin air around him and bend it into a daunting aura.  The very presence of him screamed alarm to others, an alpha just begging you to fuck with him. One found it a bit of a task to just meet his eye line.  

You must admit, his little dialogue of his prediction of your ‘submissive’ side left a somewhat startled and taken aback feeling for you to process.  

Surprisingly, he did make a point of you aggressive persona being a lot to upkeep.  You weren’t sure if it was a defense mechanism or your personality, but you did feel a bit tired at times from having to keep a constant level of defiance.  Perhaps you did have a problem showing vulnerability, and that’s why you act so bold; especially in the face of men.

You found yourself in a position you rarely were ever in; flabbergasted and strangled by silence as your mind struggled to keep up with what was just said.  

Namjoon looked pleased, aristocratic features twisting up in a witty smile as if your confusion aided his pleasure.  His dimples made an appearance and you felt your own face scrunch up into a scoff. How befitting was it for such an adorable feature to be plopped beside the very same lips that uttered such taboo topics at the dinner table?

His smile sparked some annoyance within you due to it revealing the satisfaction that his plan was working.  

He wanted you to be freaking out right now.

He wanted you to feel exposed.

He wanted to plant a seed in your head.  

You wouldn’t let him.  

You leaned back in your seat and grabbed your glass to take a sip of whatever expensive wine he found necessary to splurge on.  ‘Rich people’, you thought while barely suppressing an eye roll.

“You know Mr. Kim, I think that perhaps your little male ego just needs to feel vital.  That’s why you enjoy the concept of being a girl’s ‘daddy’.”

A snark from his baritone voice.  His olive tone hand reached out to mirror your actions by grasping his own glass of wine.  “Charming analysis, really. Yet this doesn’t stem from a need to be in control and feel important.  Like I stated before nymphet, it works both ways. You’d be just as vital to me as I am to you.”

“Be that as it may, don’t you think that forcing a submissive role onto someone is just manipulative?”  You retorted.

“Not at all.  Tell me babe, exactly when did I force any type of role onto you?  In fact, I quite like you just as you are. I would be very bored if you were a utter doormat.”  

You snorted at this.  “And what exactly was that whole ted talk about your psychological analysis concerning my inner submissive side?”  

“My meer suspicions.  But let me ask you some questions.”  A pause as if to wait for your objection. You stayed quiet.  “Do you find it a negative that your partner would want to take care of your every need?”

You shook your head.

“Is it bad to depend on your partner?”

Another shake of the head.

“And will you admit that in relationships, one usually falls into a more assertive role while the other falls into a submissive role?”

A prolonged response, but you settled for a shrug.  

“And you have a softer side, it’s just hidden under a facade of aggression.”  

You placed your drink down quickly, and stuttered; “W-well, I wouldn’t say-” “No, no.  That wasn’t a question.”  His dark eyes glimmered with a knowing benevolence.  

You face warmed on its’ own accord.  

Logic was also something that was not wasted on this man by any means.  It was like you were debating against a world class lawyer. You felt small and somewhat stupid, trapped by the brilliant diction to escape those plush lips of his.  Of course, your immediate reaction was to yell and spark up another fight. He had tricked you.

Yet, you couldn’t.  You would be proving him right.

Perhaps you were too stubborn.  Maybe you were demonizing the idea of a dom/sub relationship.  As you searched your mind for one valid reason to take a strong stance against it, you couldn’t.  

“Are you two ready to order?”  This broke your trance, causing you to look up and see the anxious waiter, pen and paper in hand.  

You huffed and looked at Namjoon.  “Order for me.”

Namjoon smirked, “No allergies to speak off?”  

“Nope.”

Namjoon turned his attention to the waiter and informed him of the food that he would be expecting.  Meanwhile, you attempted to drown yourself in that alcoholic grape juice that suddenly became all too interesting.  Not noticing the very proud smirk Namjoon held.

--

“Any recent literature to capture my nymphet’s mind?”  

You shoved another fork full into your mouth, not knowing whether or not to be happy that Namjoon did indeed order something you found very delicious.  Not that you would ever tell him that, though.

“I finished Fitzgerald’s ‘This Side Of Paradise.’”  You bluntly responded.

“And your thoughts?”  Namjoon prodded.

“Amory Blaine was a player who got mad when he got played.”  

Namjoon laughed, “Really now?  I thought he was ahead of his time.  When he met a woman who was finally of his wit and standard, she rejected him because she was too clever.  Hell, Amory Blaine wouldn’t have married himself!”

“Sure, she was smart for dodging him and marrying someone rich.  Yet, he didn’t have the right to bitch about it.”

“He got his heart broken.”  Namjoon argued.

“He got his ego broken.”  You disagreed, remembering the protagonists’ self-entitled rants of despair.

“We should have our own book club.”  Namjoon suggested, seeming to enjoy the contrast of beliefs concerning classic novels.  

“No thanks, I would rip your head off if I constantly had to hear your propaganda.”  Chewing harshly on purpose, you glared straight ahead at him.

He smiled, amused by your lack of manners.  “You’re a messy eater.”

You chewed louder, mouth open to get the sound effect as well.  

“You know, you’re only proving me right by acting like a childish brat.”  He smirked before passing you over a napkin. “If it were up to me, you would have gotten something from the kid’s menu and be eating out of kiddie plates and sippy cups.”  

“I think you would find perfect companionship at a daycare if that’s what you would want to see someone eat out of.”  You swallowed loudly, taking in sick satisfaction from Namjoons’ eyebrow twitch,

“Someone needs to teach you manners.”  He stated.

“You’re right.  Maybe Mr. Kim or Yoongi would be up for the job.”  Using his brothers against him was cruel, but you couldn’t deny the opportunity to get under his skin.  

He halted his movement to slice through his steak and looked up to bore his orbs into yours, “Don’t you dare mention those buffoons when you’re with me.”  

“Why?  Does it grind your gears to know that one of your brothers could be a more capable ‘daddy’ than you?”  you couldn’t help but tease, feeling a level of power at finding a weak point at a seemingly powerful man.  

A silence passed and his head bowed to cut through his steak, more precisely and harshly than he was mincing it before.  You paused your consuming, partly startled at his sudden seriousness and lack of banter.

“Tell me something dear, were you spanked as a child?”  

You choked, “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

He popped a dice of meat into his mouth to devour, “......because you’re about to be.”

--

Besides the obvious undertones of power-play, the dinner was perfectly adequate.  

Namjoon held qualities that you would’ve liked in a partner; intelligent, gentlemanly, well-read, respectful and clever enough to uphold a repartee with you.  He was one of the few people who you felt stimulated with by debating openly, one of the few people you respected as an equal footing with you. He challenged you. Some men you considered below you, knowing that their intentions were ill moraled and brains not nearly filled enough.  Other men you considered to be of a different world, too out of touch to ever be a match to you. Similar to how you felt when your relationship first bloomed with Jimin, a man who should’ve never collided worlds with you.

But Namjoon was someone you felt rather comfortable with.  After getting past the desperate swaying of dom/sub dynamics, you found yourself enjoying the company of the previously intimidating man.  He entertained your thoughts on culture, music and even absurd analysis on how Oscar wilde was the ‘first gay king’ as you lovingly put it.  

The meal was finished and he refused to beg for more of your time (something Jungkook or Jimin would’ve pulled.)  He paid the bill with the help of a shiny black card, laid a crisp twenty dollar bill on the table and led you out of the restaurant whilst guiding you via an arm around your waist.  

The car ride home was rather silent, the enchanting notes of Chopin played through the radio and draped an air of sophistication into the atmosphere.  Neither of you spoke, yet it was far from awkward. It was more like a mutual agreement to appreciate a stillness after such engaging conversation.

He pulled into your dorm parking lot.  Like an old fashioned bachelor, he exited his side to open the door for you and walk you to your door (or more like the dorm entrance).  

“Was I satisfactory?”  His deep voice rumbled, tone sounding more intimate as you were directly next to him...practically feeling the vibrations from his chest as he said his words.  

You two continued your walk, however you were setting the pace.  It was a slow walk, you had to admit, but you wanted to prolong the time and see how Namjoon would wrap the evening up.  So it was your little secret that you took your time with calculated strides.

“Compared to what I thought was going to happen….yeah, I’m pleased.”  

“And just what was your prediction?”  He chuckled.

“I don’t know.  Maybe you pulling a Cosby and taking me to a playroom or something.”  You laughed.

“Your humor is too satirical love, people overhearing might not get the joke.”  Namjoon pulled your form closer to him as a chilly wind passed through unexpectedly.  You breathed deep and briefly wondered if it would be weird to ask just exactly how much this fucker drops on cologne alone.  

‘He did tip a waiter like 20 dollars though….maybe I don’t wanna know.’

Sadly, you had approached the door and were forced to face him with goodbyes.  

“Well...I’m glad you got to spend a night with a man instead of wasting it on a little boy.”  

You rolled your eyes, and debated with whether or not you should say what has been bothering you on the drive over.

“A-are you going to teach me how a man kisses?”  This indeed was the reason you had agreed to the date in the first place; Namjoon claiming to blow Jungkook’s boyish technique out of the water with a much more experienced mouth.  It was something that was bubbling under the surface for you, making you prone to bursting if it wasn’t addressed.

Namjoon quirked his brow and rubbed the back of his neck, “I suppose, if that’s what the lady wants.”  

You waited, holding your breath subconsciously.  

He smirked and stepped closer to you, invading any realm of personal space.  God, he was tall. You felt vulnerable but surprisingly….you didn’t feel any disgust towards this new feeling.  It felt almost intimate to be so close to such a bigger frame than yours...

“Close your eyes.”  He purred. You obeyed, you didn’t know why you did it without question...but you obeyed.  

You waited for the feeling of his lips to touch yours.  

Would his kisses be rough and alpha-like, like the domineering persona seen before?

Or would it be careful and elaborate, similar to his manners and mindset?

You felt his hand take yours.  

You pursed your lips, not wanting to waste any time and cover the distance quickly.

You felt something warm and soft pucker against the back of your hand.

What?

You opened your eyes to witness something you weren’t expecting; Namjoon’s broad and receding back as he retreated towards the parking lot.  

Rage spurred within you.  

The fucker really just kissed your hand before trying to leave while you had your eyes closed and lips out like a fucking idiot?!  

“What the fuck Namjoon?!”  You called out, not caring how shrill and insane your own voice sounded as it echoed through the parking lot.  

He raised one long arm to wave back, still not turning around to face you.  “A real gentleman doesn’t kiss on the first date babygirl.”

You breathed in.

Your breathed out.  

“YOU MANIAC!  YOU CAN TALK ABOUT BDSM OVER DINNER BUT CAN’T EVEN PECK ME?!  ‘DADDY’ MY ASS! YOUR BROTHERS WOULDN’T TREAT ME LIKE THIS!” You hollered as Namjoon got into his car, not once acknowledging your temper tantrum and starting up the vehicle to drive away.

You heard a window open as a college student poked their head out to see what was going on.  “What the fuck are you yelling for? People are trying to sleep!”

You looked up and flipped the anonymous peer off while taking out your keys to enter the dorm.  

The Kim brothers were an interesting breed, you decided.

--

You laid in bed, scrolling through your phone as you awaited sleep to come.  

When you had got home, Kat was nowhere to be seen and you were left with the dorm to yourself.  She did mention a study dat before so you weren’t too concerned.

You decided to wash up and turn in, knowing how early your first class was tomorrow.  

A notification popped up on the top of your screen, halting your browsing.

It was a text from Namjoon.  

‘I fell in love with her courage,

Her sincerity and her flaming self respect.  

And it’s these things I’d believe in,

Even if the world indulged in wild suspicions

That she wasn’t all that she should be.

I love her and that is the beginning of everything.’ ~F. Scott Fitzgerald’  

Did he really sent you a poem?  

You spent about ten minutes reading the words over and over again, letting it warm your heart as you pictured Namjoon’s long fingers typing it down and thinking of you.  It was easy for you to connect the dots given one of the his favorite topics was your submission to him. However, this poem hinted that he was not at all turned off by your aggression and bratiness. Even if the world didn’t think think you were proper, your flaming self respect earned Namjoon’s fondness of you.  And like the last line said….

This was only the beginning.

You fell asleep with a smile upon your face.

--

Perhaps if you had looked up the horoscope for your astrological sign, it would’ve warned you of just exactly how cursed this day was about to be.  Maybe even told you to stay your ass home.

Sadly, you had to discover this bad fortune the hard way by treading out into the very world itself.  

First, you woke up late and thus had very little time to get pretty.  Not only did you burst into your first class about 15 minutes late, but you also looked like a hot mess.  

Then, you realized that you forgot to charge your laptop last night.  Meaning, all notes were now going to have to painstakingly be taken by hand.  This would have been longer and more carpal-tunnel themed but god decided to strike upon you even harder by making that pen explode on you, ink now staining your shirt.  

And the final nail in the coffin was in your early afternoon class.  Your professor was handing back grades on the most recent paper to be turned in, one that you have worked very hard on and missed sleep over.  

And what did you get?

A big, bright, red ‘F’.

Red was a hideous color, you concluded.  Maybe that’s why teachers used it? To make the letter grade look angry and disappointed.  It worked like a charm given the more you stared at it, the more heavy the guilt and inner-turmoil felt on your chest.  

You had enough of this day.  

You looked like shit.

Felt like shit.

And apparently your quality as a student was utter shit.

There was a silver lining, and in a facade optimism you tried to focus on it and nothing else.  

You only had one more class to suffer through today, after that you were perfectly free to wallow the rest of the 24 hours in bed with whatever items to satisfy a pity party.  

But while walking on campus to your next class, you had caught sight of something.  

A group of guys were lurking by the entrance to your next class.  

The closer you approached, the more clearer their faces became.  

It was a fuck boy pack, about five in total.  They were excitedly talking with one another, some even rough housing with those enlarged limbs of theirs.  You rolled your eyes and continued your stride, not wanting to pause and give them any more inspection. All you had to do was pass them and get into the classroom.  

A boisterous roar that made you jump, the sound coming from the group itself (which now appeared to be like a group of wild hyenas).  

You turned to see what the fuck can be such cause for such foolish hollering.

Only to see one of the guys pointing right at you while the others turned to face the direction.  

And what face was among them?

Jungkook.

--

The scene was reminiscent of ‘Mean Girls’.  

When Lindsey Lohan ate her lunch in the bathroom because she had no one to sit with.  

You were just like her.

Instead, you weren’t eating lunch so much as you were bawling your eyes out.

A girl could only take so much, you know?

After you saw Jungkook among them, you snapped right back around to head to a bathroom.  Not wanting him to bear witness to your now red face and watery eyes.

You promised yourself that you were just heading to the restroom for a second to process what just happened.  Not to mention you also wanted to avoid them. However the more you tried to process it from within the claustrophobic stall of yours, the more unbearable the situation became.  

Paranoia clawed at you and it quickly became apparent that either way, it wasn’t looking good for you.

What the fuck did Jungkook tell them about you?

Did he also tell them about your night together?  

Did he tell them that you were a poor commoner willing to set aside self-respect for the wealth of sugar daddies?

Just how much did he expose of your intimate side to his bros for the sake of a laugh?

Although Jungkook was the proud owner of doe eyes, iron man socks and IU posters….he still hung out with jocks and wore too much axe spray to be allowed.  Foolish it was to place any trust on a man like that. If he wanted to let the whole school know of your dirty little secret, he would have all the proof and popularity on his side.  

You sniffled.

You knew that today in general just wasn’t a good day for you.  Over-sensitivity was a given. But did being aware of your wounded heart make the pain go away any less?  No. Of course not.

You just felt so...small.  Hopeless. Meek. Like prey to anyone and anything that wanted to hurt you today.  

And you craved protection of any sort.  

Your eyes released more tears and another sob broke through your seemingly paper-thin chest.  Just when exactly did you work yourself into a incomprehensive hysteria? You didn’t know.

Working on auto-pilot, you felt your own hand reach for your phone and swiftly click a contact name, tears dropping onto the screen before you put it to your ear.  

A ring as you called the person.  

He picked up on the second one.

“Hello?”  his deep voice greeted.  

“Daddy!   Please get me….I-I’m  scared.” you pleaded, not understanding the words that left your mouth until it was much too late.

Namjoon was taken aback on the other line.

Maybe the submissive side wasn’t so hidden afterall.

(Sorry I haven’t touched this fic in a long time....Im trash.  tbh I hit a writers block and found nam kinda intimidating to write for. Is it obvious I haven’t written this story in a long time lmao? I have an outline though for the next few chapters so we should get back on track.  Im very proud of the other stories I put out tho so if you haven’t yet, please check those out.  Ask my character is available, tell me your thoughts on this chapter and I’ll catch you guys on the flippity flop.)

[mlpdestinyverse]

Adore

Eventide Twister and Dream Flow share an intimate moment together on Hearth's Warming Eve.

*NOTE: This chapter contains in-story music! For the full experience, do listen to the song that's linked later in the story before or during the scene in question! Thanks!

Feat. Eventide Twister,  Dreamaria Flow

Story and Description Under The Cut

Ponies' voices fill the night!                Hearth's Warming Eve is here once again! Happy hearts so full and bright!                 Hearth's Warming Eve is here once again!" The jubilant voices of Twilight Sparkle's party guests resounded within the walls of her castle foyer. Various citizens of Ponyville crowded the spacious hall, mingling together in friendly chatter or the exchanging of gifts if they weren't already harmonizing along with one of Ponyville's Hearth's Warming songs. The sheer number of merry attendees was far from a surprise. It was a grand celebration hosted by the Friendship Princess herself, held every year before the day of Hearth's Warming. And the town's ever-expanding populace over the years only meant more room for families and friends to peacefully join together in celebrating the beloved holiday season. Yet even with that knowledge, Eventide Twister tensely sat on one side of the room, blue eyes momentarily flitting across any passing faces before looking away to avoid any possible eye contact. She let herself appear to be distracted by the well-decorated room; focusing on the beautifully draping fabrics of reds and golds, or the curling ribbon and colored lights that wrapped around each and every crystalline pillar in sight. At the beginning of the celebration, she had aided in flying about, setting up wreaths and hanging up ornaments on the looming tree in the middle of the hall. It was simply per yearly tradition for the party guests. Perhaps she had been the only pegasus to keep her distance from the other attendees while she quietly worked around the uninhibited nooks of the room. But having an extra horn right beside her, cheerily lifting decorations up to her with orange-hued magic and a matching vibrant grin, had significantly altered the experience she had once dreaded and avoided each year prior. Every other presence in the room had left her mind with the stringing of lights and the mirthful laughter of her company. But her small, blissful space of comfort and genuine fun had ended once the actual party had started and a wave of other ponies had flooded into the castle. Again, Eventide's eyes roamed over the crowd. She anxiously searched for the streaks of blue locks she had grown so familiar with in the past year. Though when the sight of her friend had yet again escaped her, Eventide returned to taking in the decor- "You're rather quiet, miss Eventide! I hope you're enjoying the party?" Eventide felt herself tense further. She turned back towards the group beside her and the older unicorn stallion who had paused conversation to address her. He was a researcher from Canterlot, as well as an acquaintance of her mother, much like the two other mares who flanked him. When Eventide instinctively glanced over at the red-headed mare sitting right beside her, her mother smiled back lightly. "She's just waiting for her friend to return from the refreshment table," Sunset Shimmer answered. She felt her mother's hoof affectionately rub at her upper back. It was a comforting gesture that was appreciated, and a reminder of why Eventide had stuck so close to the mare in her friend's absence in the first place. But it didn't quite distract the pegasus enough from the three sets of eyes that were now honed in on her. Eventide could only faintly nod in agreement, hoping the older adults would carry on with their previous conversation. "We're sorry if we've been leaving you out, dear!" One of the mares piped up. "Enough of us old ponies talking! I don't know nearly enough about you, darling, and I've known your mother for years!" Leaning in, the second mare gave her an eager smile. "Say, what is it that you do? I can only imagine what you're capable of as Sunset's daughter. She's one versatile mare!" Sounds of agreement were shared between the three ponies, all while Eventide stiffened. What was she supposed to say? That the daughter of one of Equestria's greatest modern researchers and inventors - right-hoof mare of Princess Twilight herself- was a simple mailmare? Eventide could feel her face grow hot at the pitiful thought, and the presence of her mother beside her became more prominent with each second she remained silent. And yet an answer refused to form. 'I...I'm barely anything. I can't embarrass her like that...' "Well, you're not far off! Eve is great at a number of things!" Eventide turned to her mother, surprised by her answer. There, she could see Sunset's motherly pride radiating off of her. Whether the older mare was taking the opportunity to brag and exaggerate, as a parent instinctively would, or save her daughter from an answer, the pegasus wasn't certain. "That's what I thought!" The inquiring mare laughed. Sunset happily hummed in return. "Yep! I mean, this whole month alone, she's been so focused on practicing away on her piano! She plays beautifully-" Sunset turned her head, her expression shifting to one of confusion when she caught Eventide's stare of dismay. 'Not again...' "The piano, you say!" The stallion exclaimed with great intrigue. Eventide just barely stopped a wince as the mares also made sounds of interest. "I enjoy some Fréderéin Chopin myself!" He continued with a strange puff to his chest, as if satisfied with his own tastes. "You must be quite skilled if you've been practicing that much!" One of the mares added, equally as interested as her stallion companion. "Well we absolutely just have to hear you play sometime, won't we~?" The other mare chirped. Eventide bit her lip. There it was; the suggestion this topic typically lead to ever since she was a kid. She gave a vague hum, hoping it'd be enough to assuage their interest. Because well, they were strangers, and acquaintances of her mom at best. The possibility of seeing them again soon, or of their request being serious, was next to none. "Hey, actually! One of the musicians playing for the party has a piano set up right here in the hall!" Eventide's body went completely rigid. All while the three ponies gasped in realization, the same idea seemingly flashing through their minds. There was a painful churn to her stomach as the ponies happily chattered, seemingly discussing their ideas for song requests. But at that point, she couldn't hear what they were saying. She was frozen, her mind struggling to catch up to the situation. She could feel her awareness extending outward towards the large sea of strangers surrounding her, to the possibility of having no choice but to be the center of their attention and judgment. Very quickly, Eventide could feel her skin flushing. Her mind fuzzed over as it looped the horrific idea over and over again in her head. "Actually," Sunset Shimmer quickly interjected. Her voice pierced through Eve's thoughts, though not enough to relieve her cornered mind. "Eve really doesn't like performing on the spot." "Oh, are you sure?" The stallion deflated, doing nothing to ease Eventide's anxiety-ridden nerves. "If you've been practicing that much, I'm sure you'd do just fine, deary! Give it a try!" While a look of annoyance flickered across Sunset's face, Eventide could already feel her mind retreating into itself, far away from the choice before her. Her blue eyes flitting from face to face, she could just barely assess their expressions. Their insistence and expectations weighed her body and mind like concrete, and she could feel her internal panic overpowering her- -until she felt a cooling wave rush through her form, followed by a warm foreleg looping snugly around hers. "I'm back!" That familiar sweet, sing-songy voice broke through Eventide's clouded focus. And there she was. Beside her stood her friend, Dreamaria Flow, who smiled brilliantly at the group. Two beverages were suspended in the air next to her head by an orange aura of magic; the very same aura that swirled around her radar of a horn. "Sorry to interrupt, everyone! I'd just like to borrow my friend back, if you don't mind~" Dream shifted her attention to Eventide and smiled brighter, if possible. Sunset didn't miss a beat or give the other three ponies a chance to respond. It was like she was making a point, cheerfully accentuating her words purposefully as she replied. "Oh no please, go on ahead! You two should enjoy the night while you can!" "Sure will, Sunset! You do the same!" Dreamaria was already gently tugging Eventide away. Before Eve could turn to follow, the pegasus didn't miss her mother's grateful smile at Dream...or the playful, knowing glance she gave to her daughter. Swiftly averting her gaze, Eventide moved to match Dream Flow's stride, although Dream slowed her own steps in return to pace with her friend. "That felt like one stressful corner you were being pushed into..." Dreamaria eventually noted once the two had made some distance away from the group and the other partygoers. She tilted her head, giving her friend a kind smile while her brows narrowed back. "I'm not sure what was happening, but it sure seemed like they were pushing boundaries...how are you doing?" Eventide allowed herself a deep breath, one Dream Flow frequently reminded her to take. The stress that had overtaken her chest and mind was far from subsiding completely. But it was significantly less of a strain than what it was just moments before. And she only had one talented pony and her magic to thank for that. While she shot her friend a look of deep appreciation, more than relieved to get away, her eyes were soon trailing over to the rest of the noisy crowd surrounding them. Even after regaining her comfort bubble, she was once more made aware of just how out of her element she was. She never went to parties. Never did she willingly attend social gatherings if it meant being stuck in a room full of strangers and their uncomfortable attempts at forced conversation with her. ...but being invited along by Dreamaria to the unicorn's first Ponyville Hearth's Warming party had been the one exception. 'I really thought I'd adjust...but it still feels like there's hardly any room to breathe.' Dream Flow herself took a glance around the room. Then, with a cheery hum, she leaned in closer to Eventide. "Hey! Why don't we get the heck out of here?" Eventide blinked, giving a puzzled glance to her friend. It was only met by the mare's pleasant beaming. "This whole experience has been new and interesting. But I think I'm ready for our presents back at your place~ So we can head home, but only if you're ready!" While Dream Flow patiently waited for an answer from the pegasus, Eve found herself searching the unicorn's face, questions rolling through her mind. Dream had been so enthusiastic about the celebration just hours ago, and they were barely an hour into the actual party as they spoke. Not wanting to keep her friend waiting, Eventide slowly nodded. That was enough for Dream to happily nod back and motion with her head towards the double doors at the beginning of the foyer that exited the castle. Walking out into the cold winter night, the layer of snow across the land crunched underhoof. And Eventide couldn't help once last glance at the bright, bustling castle before trudging on beside her friend. -------------------------------------------------- The town was far quieter than they had left it nearly two hours ago, with the dark of night claiming the sky. It seemed that the usual townsfolk were either attending Twilight's party or staying indoors to celebrate with their loved ones. This left the streets of Ponyville fairly empty. The only immediate sounds around the two mares were their soft sips of hot cocoa that Dream Flow had retrieved earlier, as well as their leisurely paced hoofsteps. There was very little rush when the stringed lights on every house and tree were a sight to behold. The orbs beautifully illuminated the town with dappled glows, various colors bouncing off of the snow as well as the extravagant decorations that lined the many streets. But by the time they were crossing the bridge in the middle of town, Eventide's confusion had slowly subsided and the bigger picture of Dream Flow's decision had pieced itself together within her head. Her legs had begun to slow and drag through the blanket of snow at her own realization. It wasn't the excitement of presents that had drawn her friend away from a party she had been looking forward to. No. Dream had left for her sake. The timing was too convenient. After going out of her way to invite Eventide out and celebrate Dream Flow's first Hearth's Warming Eve in Ponyville, Eventide had gone and worried her compassionate friend with her trivial stresses. Again. And over the idea of playing a piano, of all things. They were supposed to enjoy the party together. Eventide was supposed to let the unicorn experience the excitement of one of Princess Twilight's celebrations, along with the togetherness of celebrating it with her new town's merry citizens. But she couldn't even accomplish that much for her friend. Now Dream Flow felt obligated to walk her home, knowing full well how much Eventide couldn't handle the pressure of a simple social event. Eve's ears folded back against her head, her eyelids drooping. 'I let her down... I ruined her night. And now she's stuck looking after me. I shouldn't have come...I should've known I'd weigh her down. But I was only thinking about myself-' "I...don't think anypony should have to feel this guilt-ridden on the day before Hearth's Warming." Eventide stilled and her head snapped up, realizing that Dream Flow was a few paces ahead of her on the bridge. The blue mare stood half-turned towards her, orange magic still glowing around her horn and cup. With a meek smile, Dreamaria's hooves crunched the snow as she walked back towards Eve, stopping a comfortable distance before her. Her voice was one of patience as she spoke, keeping her question soft in the silence of night. "Want to share what's going through your mind...?" Eventide bit her inner cheek, avoiding her friend's eye momentarily. She struggled, for an uncomfortable amount of time she would say. Yet Dreamaria remained there with a tolerance that was far beyond Eventide's understanding. "I..." Eventide's voice sounded too loud in this stillness, and in general, too grating for her own ears. She nearly stopped herself from speaking any further if it meant not having to hear such an unpleasant tone. Her pupils flicked to Dream's, just briefly, before lowering back towards their hooves. Even as quietly as she replied, her voice carried through the quiet air. "...m-madeyouleave. I'm sorry." As her words faded into the air, silence overtaking the space between them once more, she could almost feel Dreamaria's two-toned gaze boring through her. She chanced a peek up at her friend, uncertain of what she'd find. With a mildly troubled expression, Dream eyes seemed to be searching Eventide, analyzing her even. And within a second of Eventide lifting her head, the other mare's expression shifted into something gentler. "...there's something I want you to understand." Dream stepped closer, except this time, she was looking off towards the direction they had come from. "I like experiencing new things. And knowing what a Hearth's Warming party hosted by Princess Twilight was all about was certainly something I was interested in. But. What was more important to me was sharing that fun. And I invited you with me because I wanted to hang out and share it with you." Dream shifted her attention back to Eventide, her warm smile never faltering. "Sure, I liked the energy! But there's no one at that party I'd rather spend my Hearth's Warming Eve with. And if you're uncomfortable, then that's my priority." Eventide's breath involuntarily stilled. She instead watched as a flicker of guilt crossed her friend's face. "Really, I'm the one who knowingly pushed your comfort zone with the invitation. Getting out of that zone every once in a while can be good, but it's not exactly fair if I made you feel like you had to say yes-" "No." Eventide startled both of them with the ease in which she had responded. A shaky breath escaped her mouth in the form of a white cloud. Taking in Dream's face, her kind words echoing inside her head, Eve recognized the erratic pounding within her own chest. "Iw-wantedtogo..." 'With you.' It took a heartbeat longer for Dream's surprise to fade back into its usual warmth. "That's comforting...and honestly, I'm proud you gave this party a chance. You should be proud too! It takes a lot of courage to face the things you aren't comfortable with." Eventide nodded softly. She willed herself to take the compliment to heart, however difficult that tended to be. And with a confident beam, Dream trotted to stand next to her friend, lightly nudging her with her muzzle. "Well~? Let's get going! I meant it when I said I was looking forward to exchanging gifts- eep!" Any steps they had taken were quickly halted by a gust of chilly winter wind that tossed their manes about. Dream jolted, her magic hastily tugging at her blue sweater vest and the green sleeves beneath in a weak effort to cover any exposed pelt. "I d-don't remember winter being this cold!" She turned to Eventide, wide-eyed. "How are you not shivering?" Fighting back a smile at the endearing sudden shift in demeanor, Eventide responded by looking back at her wings and the thick layers of feathers covering them. After a pause, she then slowly and timidly extended one of them towards the unicorn. No explanation had to be given, apparently. Dream might as well have teleported beside her as she ducked under the pegasus' cream and orange plumage and pressed up against her for warmth. It took another moment of hesitation and mentally calming herself down for Eve to fully drape the wing over Dreamaria's back. Dream released a sigh of relief. "You're so lucky to have a thick coat, Eve!" She laughed. "You're like a heater!" Eventide didn't hide a shy smile that time. Resuming their walk, it wasn't long before Eventide could recognize the dark red roof of her family's home. She pulled a key out from a pocket in the gradient, monochromatic sweater she herself was wearing. A click unlocked the door, and she ushered Dream and her shivering self to head inside first. As expected, the house was soundless. In light of her choosing to attend Twilight's celebration for the first time in years, her father had also decided to join in on the festivities. As for her brother Astral, there had been no sign of him at the party. He was no doubt working tirelessly away in his lab, as he tended to do these days. The interior of the living room wasn't completely cast in darkness. Much like the castle and the streets, the Shimmer family household was also decorated with various lights, although every light in the room gave off a matching golden glow that created a warm, soothing atmosphere. In one corner of the room was their Hearth's Warming Tree, shimmering with the very same lights. And at the top sat the common Hearth's Warming tree topper; a star of destiny, the biggest and most vibrant of lights in the room. It might as well have been a beacon in the dark. And unless her friend voiced otherwise, Eventide settled on keeping the actual living room lights off if it meant basking in this beautiful ambiance. Shutting the door behind her and removing her snow boots, Eventide watched Dream Flow float their emptied cups over to the closest trash can, just before making a beeline for the tree. The lively unicorn apparently wasn't wasting any time. "Okay, let's get to it! Me first!" Dream eagerly declared. As Eventide made her way to the middle of the room, one of the various presents beneath the tree began levitating before floating over to the mare. Once in Eve's hooves, the orange glow of magic surrounding it dispersed. Dream Flow sat before her. The unicorn had her hooves clutched close to her chest while she observed her pegasus friend closely. If Eventide didn't know better, she would've thought that the other mare was watching on nervously. Upon tearing away the green wrapping paper, Eve's eyebrows flew up at the thick, mottled blue leather journal that was within her hold. It was clasped close, the cover bordered by beautiful metallic silver. But what drew her eye to the center of the surface was the same metallic silver, forming elegant swirls, dots, and music notes into a large design Eventide could recognize as a stylized version of her own cutie mark. "I had it custom made!" Dream quickly spoke up. She was rubbing her hooves together at this point, and now Eventide could curiously see that the mare was, in fact, timidly looking between her and her present. "I noticed your other journal was filling up and I thought you could use a new one! Something nice and fancy for your wonderful poems." Dream Flow shone a sheepish smile at her friend. "I hope it's a useful gift. I've never...bought a present for anyone besides my uncle before." 'Oh... I'm the first...?' While that almost seemed hard to believe, coming from somepony as giving and considerate at Dreamaria, a part of Eventide somehow felt lighter with that thought. She held her new, beautifully crafted journal to her chest, offering the most earnest smile she could at Dream. "Iloveit. Thank you." "Oh good!" Dream breathed out heavily in relief. She clasped her hooves together, appearing at ease. "Happy Hearth's Warming, Eve! Soo..." Her hooves began to tap against each other, interest lighting her face. "Not to sound too eager, but you said you had a gift for me too~?" Eventide stood still, the mixture of determination and uncertainty that she had been suppressing the whole day catching up all at once. 'Right... This is it.' While self-conscious, Eventide walked over towards the nearest chair, shifting it to the most ideal location she had noted in mind. She wordlessly motioned for the other mare to sit, who did so without question albeit visibly curious. Holding her breath unknowingly, Eventide found herself tensely striding to a small studio piano of dark mahogany wood, tucked in one corner of the room directly in front of Dreamaria's seat. Its keys were facing the wall, providing a makeshift barrier between herself and any onlookers to her performance. During her younger days, back when she had played more, it had helped with stage fright. Years had passed since she could handle an audience beyond her own family. And as such, as Eventide slid herself onto her seat before her piano, the mare positioned her hooves in their rightful places, only to watch them shake. Her jaw tightened. '...I can do this. I've practiced day after day for this. Just to get this right.' She fought the urge to glance up at the mare on the other side of the piano, knowing it could very well break any sort of resolve she had desperately clung to. It was taking everything in her not to back out, to avoid the possibility of making a mistake and embarrassing herself. But she had looked over this piece she had written, tweaking it every way she could to perfect it. She had practiced it to the point of knowing it by heart. With one last deep breath, she steeled herself. Her hooves made contact with the instrument before her. 'This is for her...and only her.' After a moment's tension, the first high key pierced the room, like the first touch of snowfall. It hung in the air for a moment before other slow, gentle keys faded in with it. Eventide took her time, letting each key have its turn to echo in the room of golden glows. There was only a heartbeat of momentary silence before a lower melody drifted across the keys. To her it resembled the heavy fall of icy snow, churning in the darkness, where all sense of direction was lost. And then it dispersed. Her hooves flew across the higher keys, returning to that original melody with fervor. Closing her eyes, the storm had made way to the first rays of light, breaking through the clouds. It revealed endless snow-blanketed fields. And there she traversed. Uncertain. Searching. Reaching. But somehow there was trust. There was belief, even with no set path, that she could continue onward, believing in that light that had returned her sight. Her world. The light was warm and the sunlit clouds urged her on. And in return, she could feel something within her swell with tender emotion. Adoration. Before she had realized it, Eventide had completely relaxed as her song flowed out of her. There was no desire to hide, and no need to force herself around Dream Flow. At this moment, for once, she felt at peace. Like being a simple pianist at this point in time was enough. The keys slowed once more, and the pegasus had her final notes resound through the air. As they faded, she allowed herself a moment of silence. And relief flooded her. 'I...did it...' Eventide raised her head, realizing the silence had yet to be broken by either pony in the room. And her eyes found Dream's. Dreamaria was staring at her with an expression she had never seen before from the mare. Wide-eyed. Slack-jawed. There was the slightest bit of movement to her mouth, as if any words she had in mind had not fully taken form. "Eve..." she finally murmured, so softly that Eventide felt her heartbeat quicken. She chose not to say anything as Dream Flow pulled herself out of her chair. Her hooves clacked against the wooden floor as she moved towards the piano. Dream stood on her hind hooves and placed her hooves atop the piano from behind. One hoof slid across its cool surface, a look of bewilderment on her face. "What...how did you...?" Dreamaria continued to look over the piano, and then at Eventide, not even bothering to finish her questions. That wide-eyed speechlessness had Eventide unsure whether to feel elated or worried. Either way, she timidly glanced back down at her keys. "...Happy Hearth's Warming." "You..." Dream blinked, and Eve could see pieces fitting together in her head. "Because I wanted to hear you play...?" Eventide nodded. Thankfully, Dream appeared to be pulling herself back in again, with her mouth stretching into a thrilled grin. "That was amazing!" She declared, delighted laughter tinging her voice. "Wow! I just...that was almost less of a melody and more like an emotion you just played. I didn't even need my magic to feel it..." Dream touched her hoof to her chest. "It was so passionate and...incredible. And...wow, look at me, I don't even know if I have the proper words right now!" She giggled. "Is this what means to be shaken?" By the time Dreamaria had finished speaking, Eventide could feel her cheeks flaring with heat. She shifted in her seat, not knowing how to handle the amount of happiness brimming in her heart. Movement from her friend's end had her watching Dreamaria rest her chin and hooves on top of the piano. Only then did Eventide really take in the way the decor was illuminating Dream Flow's figure from behind, creating a radiant halo of light. Beautiful. Breathtaking. "You really never cease to amaze me, Eventide..." The lights glimmered in Dremaria's predominantly orange irises. She exhaled serenely and closed her eyes, shifting her forelegs to properly relax and rest her head. "Could you please play it one more time? That energy...I'd like to feel it again." That was a request Eventide would never refuse. With just a bit more confidence than before, the pegasus once again took to her piano keys. She took her time, playing slightly slower than before, but with just as much heart. There was something strangely intimate about presenting this song. It was like she was telling a story, and bearing her heart. And she felt safe doing so. A momentary glimpse at Dream Flow's peaceful face, and Eventide was once more smiling to herself. The two of them in this tender moment, and this song that carried everything she held within, were all that mattered.

_________________________________

-Music: "Adore" by Stephan Moccio. A fitting title. At one point in time I had planned on being subtle with Eve's feelings, but ultimately threw that out the window and this chapter happened. Say hello to DreamTwister~ This takes place at the end of Dreamaria's first year in Ponyville, and before either of them meet Skychaser. So back when it was just the two of them. It was a year Eventide spent learning what a friend's unconditional love and support was really like. And through the months, it lead to the development of...deep fondness. Eventide is far from ready to express the extent of it. But music and the arts have certainly proven to be a helpful outlet. Somanywarmfeelings...but if you've read Parental Shipping and know how well Dream recognizes the different forms of love, then well, you may imagine she won't be putting anything together any time soon. *holdsbothofthem* And because I designed it, here's a quick drawing I did for the design of Eventide's new journal!

[avantegarda]

Wonderful 1000: The Merry Misadventures of Chopin the Pig

@cherepashkadrabbles requested a tale featuring an assortment of Kiraly-von Holstadt family pets and somehow this happened. Enjoy!

--

It was all Anna’s fault, really.

Not Anna Király the elder—that esteemed matriarch had gone to her reward over a decade prior, though Andras insisted that her spirit still kept a watchful eye over the family, particularly around Christmas. The perpetrator this time was Anna Király the younger, aged three, the apple of her mother’s eye: a plump, auburn-haired little elf with strong opinions on absolutely everything. 

The opinions, this time, were regarding the family dachshund.

“Wolfgang is sad,” Anna insisted, with a fervent tug at her mother’s skirts. “Sad sad sad.”

Marta reluctantly put down the letter she was reading—a rare missive from her friend Sophie in New York—and regarded her daughter with surprise. “What on earth do you mean, Anna darling? Wolfgang is the happiest dog in Vienna. He has lots of food and a warm bed and you and Sofia and Zoltan to play with him. He has no reason at all to be sad.”

Anna shook her head firmly. “No, he sad. Lonely. He need ‘nother dog. Or kitty.”

“He’s lo…” Marta paused, her stomach twisting in sudden worry. How exactly did Anna, still practically a baby, know that word? Was Anna lonely? It couldn’t be terribly easy to be the youngest in their family, that much was true. Sofia and Zoltan, while affectionate and kind older siblings, had a tendency to disappear into their own artistic pursuits, just as their father did; Sofia with her singing lessons and Zoltan with his drawing. Leaving little Anna...well, out.

Perhaps it wasn’t Wolfgang who needed another animal around the house. 

“I’ll tell you what, darling,” Marta said slowly. “Your uncle Heini spends most of his time out in the country and he knows all sorts of animals. Perhaps he’ll have a kitten or a puppy who needs a new home.”

Andras might have some objections to another pet being brought in without warning...but at the smile on Anna’s round face Marta really couldn’t bring herself to care.

--

Heini’s reply was swift and enthusiastic.

Dear Marta,

I was wondering when you were going to ask me this very question. Three children and only one old dog around the place to keep them company? It’s obscene.

I have just the beast for you, too. You’re expecting a barn cat or some such, I’m sure, but I have a slightly more unusual suggestion. I’ve convinced Father to let me acquire a new kind of miniature pig from the East (I won’t bore you with all the agricultural details), and one of the sows has just produced an excellent litter of piglets. Would Anna like one? As babies they’re the size of a cat, practically, and they don’t grow to be more than two feet tall. Once he gets older he might have to spend most of his time in the back garden, but I can guarantee the children will love him.

Your affectionate brother,

Heini

“A pig?” Andras said incredulously that night, as he and Marta got into bed. “In the house? I always knew your brother was just as mad as you are but this seems like a bit much.”

“But it’ll be wonderful for the children, darling,” Marta replied. “Think what an educational experience it will be for them to have a new kind of animal to learn to take care of!”

“They’ve already got more animals than I ever had as a child. I had to make do with Erszi the pigeon, while our youngsters have Wolfgang and Nyafi and all the animals at Burg Holstadt…”

“Nyafi is a wonderful cat,” said Marta, “but she spends all her time in Pest and so the children only get to see her about half the year. And Andras, I think that…” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I think Anna needs this. Yes, she’s still very young, but she needs something that’s hers. Why not a pig?”

Andras sighed, though it was obvious that his resistance was softening. “I still say pigs belong in the barn, not in the house. Is this one of those things that’s so lower-class it’s gone full circle and somehow become fashionable?”

“Undoubtedly.” Marta snuggled closer and planted a kiss on her husband’s cheek. “And we’ll be the most fashionable family on the Wipplingerstrasse.”

“Hmm,” said Andras wryly. “If it’s a matter of fashion, I suppose I can’t possibly refuse. Now come over here and give me a proper kiss.”

Marta grinned triumphantly as her husband pulled her into his arms. If anyone ever asked why she’d given up a title and a fortune to marry a musician—as they still occasionally did—it was moments like this that she pointed to. Every single time.

--

The newest member of the family arrived two weeks later, carried in a basket and delivered by a beaming Heini. It was certainly a fetching creature; small and bristly and ivory-colored with dark splotches and shining eyes. And the children, of course, were utterly enchanted by it.

“What should we call him?” six-year-old Zoltan demanded. “Should it be a Hungarian name?”

Sofia rolled her eyes. “No, silly, Nyafi the cat already has a Hungarian name. The pig needs an Austrian one.”

“But Wolfgang already has an Austrian name…”

“Well, Wolfgang is named after a composer,” Marta cut in gently. “So perhaps this little fellow should be too. Andras, what music does he make you think of when you see him?”

“He has rather melancholy eyes, doesn’t he,” said Andras. He scratched his chin thoughtfully and hummed a few bars of something slow and romantic. Both Sofia and Zoltan screwed up their faces, thinking deeply, until finally Sofia clapped her hands in triumph.

“Of course!” she cried. “Chopin! It’s perfect.”

“Well, I certainly like it,” said Marta. “But Anna should have the final say. What do you think, love?”

The entire family looked down at Anna, who was crouched by the basket softly petting the piglet’s bristles. At the sound of her name, the little girl looked up and beamed.

“Chopin,” she said. “My piggie.”

There appeared to be nothing more to say on the subject.

--

“I am going to make that damn creature into kolbasz,” Andras growled. “I mean it, Marta. This is the last straw.”

Marta’s eyebrows went up. “Final straw? What were the first straws?” She had to admit, the last month having Chopin as a pet had been slightly less peaceful than expected, but she hadn’t been aware of anything too terrible. Besides, the children loved him.

“Well, first of all, Anna insists on letting him sleep in her room, and he knocks everything over and chews on all her toys. And then Zoltan put paint on his hooves for some piece of art he wanted to do—is that what art is coming to in this country?—and Chopin tracked it everywhere. And now,” Andras said with bitter triumph, “he has destroyed my work.”

Marta inhaled sharply. “He hasn’t broken Clara, has he?” Though technically an inanimate object, Andras’ beloved violin had been a part of the Király family since 1861, and if something happened to her…

“No, thank God. If Chopin damaged Clara he’d be at the butcher’s shop this very minute. But what he did do isn’t much better. I have a performance in three weeks, at which I am supposed to be debuting my No. 4 in B Minor which I have been working on all week, but that creature,” said Andras grimly, “has gone and defecated on it.”

The snort of laughter that escaped her lips was one Marta immediately regretted, and at Andras’ scowl she quickly apologized. “But how did he get on top of your sheet music, darling? Was it on the floor?”

“I don’t see how it matters where my papers were,” Andras said primly (which translated to “yes, they were on the floor, due to my excessive absentmindedness”). “We need to get that thing properly trained or he’ll be going right back to the country where he belongs.”

“I’ll take care of it. Now get back to work.” Marta wagged a stern finger in her husband’s direction. “If you give a performance that isn’t a success my parents still may find a way to annul our marriage.”

--

It was a generally understood rule in the Király household that when Andras was in his study composing, he was only to be disturbed in the event of an emergency. This was less because it would annoy him and more because when he was focused on music, he was temporarily incapable of thinking about anything else.

All of this was to say that, when Sofia cautiously entered the study shortly before dinner on Saturday, it was clearly a matter of some concern.

“Papa?” she asked. And, when her father neglected to look up, a bit louder: “Pa?”

Andras, whose world for the past two hours had consisted entirely of the concerto he was writing, jolted out of his reverie to find his hands nearly black with ink and a worried-looking eight-year-old staring at him. “What’s the matter, Sofia?”

“Have you seen Zoltan?” Sofia blurted out. 

“Sofia, your brother will be holed up in his bedroom or out in the garden. Is this really…”

“He’s not, though. I’ve looked everywhere, he’s missing.” Sofia sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “And it’s all my fault. The von Braumark twins came for a visit today and Zoltan wanted to play with us but Lottie said he couldn’t because he’s a boy and Liesel and I went along with it and he was so upset, and after the twins left I went to find him to say sorry and he’s gone.”

Having grown up with three temperamental younger sisters, Andras was quite accustomed to children going missing and then reappearing at the oddest of times. Therefore the news of Zoltan’s evident disappearance was no cause to panic.

Not yet, anyway.

--

Two hours later, through concentrated search efforts and several hastily dispatched messages, the Királys had been able to establish a list of places where Zoltan was not.

He wasn’t anywhere in the house or back garden.

He was not at his grandparents’ house (as far as anyone could tell, though the von Holstadt mansion had eighty rooms and it took considerable time to search all of them).

He was not at the homes of any of their family friends, nor was he in the nearby park.

And while all of this information was technically useful, it was not making Marta and Andras any less worried.

“I don’t want to call the police, but I think we might have to,” said Andras, pacing back and forth across the sitting room floor as he had been for the last ten minutes. “How else are we supposed to track the wretched boy down?”

Anna, who was crouched on the floor patting Chopin, looked up eagerly. “Chopin can find him.”

“Anna, darling,” Marta sighed. “Chopin is a very nice pig but I don’t think…”

“No, Mama, she’s right. Pigs have a good sense of smell, even better than dogs,” said Sofia. “And they’re very clever too. If we give him something of Zoltan’s to smell, and then we follow him…” She trailed off, looking up at her parents hopefully. 

Marta and Andras looked at each other for a long moment, until finally Marta sighed and nodded. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”

--

The five (four and a half?) of them made a rather odd sight on the rainy Viennese streets: Andras holding both Anna and a bright red umbrella, Marta clutching Sofia’s hand and Chopin’s lead. A proper traveling circus, that’s what they were. Marta would have found the situation more amusing had she not been scared out of her wits.

Chopin, at least, seemed to have understood his instructions. After getting a good whiff of Zoltan’s nightshirt he appeared to recognize the boy’s scent and was now trotting along briskly, pausing occasionally to snuffle at the ground. If he actually found Zoltan, Marta decided, she would feed him the finest scraps to be found anywhere in the city.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only ten minutes, Chopin halted in his tracks at the imposing gothic facade of St. Maria’s am Gestade. He snuffled at the ground for a moment as though confirming a suspicion, and then grunted with satisfaction.

“Is it sacrilegious to bring a pig into a church?” Marta inquired.

“If we’re looking for a missing child, then I’d say we’ll be forgiven,” Andras replied. “And this door had better be unlocked.”

It was, thank goodness. And when Marta’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom, she detected, in one of the front pews, a small dark-haired figure sitting completely still.

“Zoltan!”

The little boy looked up in surprise as his family all but ambushed him. “Mama? Papa? Chopin? What time is it?”

“Past time for you to be home! I am so glad you’re safe.” Marta pulled her son into a tight hug before pulling back with a frown. “But darling, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I like that painting,” Zoltan replied, pointing up at the glorious gold-hued altarpiece. “It always makes me feel better. So I thought I would come and sit here until I stopped being cross with Sofia.” He looked down at his feet and kicked his legs guiltily. “But it was naughty to run away, wasn’t it.”

“Very naughty,” Marta said, with considerably less sternness than she intended. “You’re lucky that we found you.”

“No, Chopin find him,” Anna insisted from Andras’ arms.

“Chopin was brilliant,” gushed Sofia. “Pa, you like him now, don’t you? You won’t have him made into sausages?”

Andras let out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose so, but I expect you lot to keep him in line. Train him up. No feral pigs in my house, if you please.”

As the children launched into a debate about what tricks, if any, Chopin could be trained to do, Marta reached down and scratched the piglet gently between the ears. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I knew you were worth the trouble.”

While none of the other members of the family would believe her, Marta insisted that Chopin replied to this with a very cheeky wink.

[xoexoxhoe]

On The Hill

A/N: This is LITERALLY one of the most interesting things i’ve ever read. My Co wrote this based off of her love for political angst/dramas, and honestly, it’s really good guys, TOTALLY WORTH THE READ. We hope you enjoy this little piece by Momo (@sailor-baek )

Characters: Park Seonghwa (ATEEZ) & Reader (Y/N), featuring another ATEEZ member! 

Theme: Political AU, angst, love affair, political drama 

Nothing comes easy when you work for the President of the United States. Especially when it involves Park Seonghwa. 

💥Warning: Angst💥

The processional march was colorful noise in your ears as you followed closely behind the big man. It got older every time you heard it, which was, quite regrettably, every first Friday of the month. Really, anything would be better than the obnoxious blaring of-what was it? An oboe? You had no idea but it sure didn’t sound like the Chopin Nocturne op.9 no.2 you had to turn on every night to sleep.

“You’re doing it again.”

You didn’t even remember getting on the floor, a communications intern behind the press caucus chuckled. Carrie Ann. George Washington University undergrad and poli-sci masters at the good ‘ole Harvard. You made a mental note to fire the little shit as soon as this thing was over. Your attention turned to the man, still waiting for a complete introduction at the podium.

“Doing what, sir?”

“That frown thing with your eyebrows. You’re gonna get wrinkles, Y/N. What was that cream thing you use? You better stock up before Big Pharma gets their hands on the patent or I’ll have to call you...what is that new movie with Oprah?”

“A Wrinkle In Time, sir.”

“Yes, that one! A wrinkle-”

“It’s a childrens movie; nothing to do with premature aging, sir.”

A little huff escaped his lips and a slight tug appeared on yours. The press secretary was clapping now signaling for your boss to give his address.

“I’m sure your daughter will be happy to watch it with you tonight. Mr. President, you’re up.”

“Ah yes, it appears so.”

You watched as he made his way up to the center; flurries of camera flashes turning the west wing corridor into a light show. This is the time when you would check out. His speech was solid, you had looked it over yourself the hour prior. Today, however, there was a particular bump in your paved smooth travel down the hill. A rather large bump, by the name of Park Seonghwa. He was standing to the right behind his Prime Minister with the cheekiest smile plastered across his face. Bilateral economic relations didn’t warrant this kind of happiness, it oozed off of him like fucking honey. You had heard your greenies gushing over him earlier that day. The hot speech writer from the embassy. Why was he even here? Stupid question, you knew it was because he was Prime Minister Cho’s nephew. Nepotism at its finest. You had to use that one later. It would definitely sting. When clapping resumed again you made your way to the podium to rally the cameras back into the hall.

“Coverage of the reception will be permitted. I’ll have the details sent over via secure line. Until then please wait in the briefing room for further instruction. Thank you, everyone.”

You turned the corner still trying to shake that stupid smile from your mind when Carrie Ann caught your eye at the coffee corner. Before you could stalk all the way over, someone called your name.

“Ms. Chief of Staff...sir?”

God, you had forgotten your interns had project due today. “One sec, hun.”

You pivoted straight into a paper cup of coffee. “You look like you wanted to, um, talk to me.”

“Carrie Ann, do I amuse you.” The cup was warm in your hand now; sickly sweet aromas filling your nose. A little sip of the searing liquid confirmed your suspicion, too much liquid sugar. The poor girl had gone white.

“More specifically, my face-does it...does it make you want to laugh in a room of every major news outlet in the Pacific?”

“No ma’am, I didn’t mean to-”

“But you did.” You took a longer sip and gave her one last canvas before turning back to the little crowd that had gathered. “This coffee is wonderful by the way. Just a little suggestion, though; go easy on sweetener. You’ll need to remember that when you start at the local Starbucks.” You relished the gasps all the way to your office. It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat that you remembered you weren’t alone.

“Shitty morning, my greenies. Tell me something that won’t make me want to throw you off of the east wing balcony.” A lazy finger point at the intern that had tapped your shoulder earlier opened a flood of updates.

“The KORUS coverage just hit air and it’s already trending on Twitter and Facebook.”

“Washington Governor Townsend has agreed to the state park expansion plans in Olympia; we should have the contractors’ bids on your desk no later than noon.”

“The writer guy is waiting in your blue room, ma’am. Said he has an appointment.”

Messy papers were strewn all over your desk; draft bills for POTUS to look over and countless testimony from the bane of your existence that was the municipal aide fund. You didn’t even look up. “I know plenty of writers, Joshua, you need to be more specific.”

“The hot one, ma’am. Tall, Korean, windswept hair look-”

“You need not go on, dear, this is the White House, not a middle school cafeteria. Send him in.”

The group trudged to the door. “Wait. I want all of you to finish up those Arbor Day submissions from the kindergartners. Pick a winner too.”

“The criteria, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, pick one that colored the trees unrealistic colors. I support impressionism and nothing says ‘Happy Tree Day! Thank you for the oxygen!’ more than a purple ficus.”

“Got it, ma’am, purple ficus.” You shoo-ed them off with the hope that the president would get a chuckle from handing a five-year-old artist a certificate for a periwinkle disaster on national television.

“That girl from earlier. I passed her crying on the way here; such a harsh way to be let go.”

You scoffed, “I might just call secret service to drag her out. Why are you here, Mr. Park? You didn’t have an appointment.”

Seonghwa sauntered to your desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket while easing onto the varnished oak and cocking his head to the side, “Hm…” he grabbed the bow cascading down your blouse, rolling the silk in his fingers, “I never imagined something so frilly on someone so…”

“So what?”

He glared down at you, dropping the bow and retracting his fingers, grabbing the pocket square out of his suit, “So… disdainful.”

You smiled unevenly, “Sometimes I wonder where you learn words like this, but then I remember you went to college here and I can’t one up you with pretentious vocabulary.”

A smile spread across his face, “Do you want it in Korean? 경멸적인.”

“Why should I respect you, Seonghwa? I’m the White House Chief of Staff; not the eager college girl that gets you a cream cheese bagel in the morning.”

The way he got under your skin was criminal. Bad enough that he still hadn’t answered your initial question. What was the question? You were getting too old for this. “Your speech on NATO was cute; Prime Minister Cho did well for the press.”

“Did you like it?”

“Oh, I did. In fact I have a particular word in mind to describe it.”

“What would that be?”

“쓰레기.”

“Ah! She knows Korean now; such a dynamic personality.” His index finger tapped against his palm, “First off, we have a condescending Chief of Staff, who, with no mercy or remorse, loves to fire her perky college interns. Second, she must be achingly smart because she dragged my Korean speech-”

“I’ll stop you right there. Perky? Not exactly the word I’d use to-”

Seonghwa stood, readjusting his suit, “Let me finish, Y/N. Finally, for someone so beautiful, you sure do have a terrible temper.”

“You came here to be an asshole; is that it?”

“Takes one to know one, ma’am.”

“You’re the one that called it a dynamic personality.”

He paused, clasping his hands together, “I simply came to ask if I’d be seeing you at the party tonight.”

“To gawk at your latest arm candy? Don’t count on it.”

◎

The Secretary of Commerce had always rubbed you the wrong way. From the beginning of the appointment, green shadows in his hollow eyes had made his motive clear. Sure, the trade renewal was beneficial to everyone. It was especially so to one certain senior official that had poured half the budget into the Korean subsidiary of a Chinese chemical manufacturer. You weren’t a god, neither was the president. The things that were sacrificed in the name of universal well being wouldn’t keep you up at night. Besides, the geezer talking your ear off had to pay for his estate in Great Barrington somehow. You felt a hand slip around your waist.

“It was a pleasure, Mr. Secretary. Congratulations on the agreement.”

Pulled away without much more than a nod in his direction you turned your attention to your companion. “How did you know I was dying of boredom?”

“Y/N, dear, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It couldn’t have been more obvious if you had screamed ‘insolent plutocrat’ in his face.”  

You gravitated towards the bar and took the cucumber vodka Yunho held out. He was every bit the man your parents had expected; fitting the description a 9 year old you had mapped out and stuck to the fridge. Doctor Jeong Yunho; Chief of surgery at Georgetown, specializing in neurology. How else could you describe Yunho but simply strapping. Heels didn’t challenge his height. His goofy smile never faltered and his bright eyes followed you like a puppy. Walking into any function with him felt like a cold drink laced with ecstasy; only mildly dangerous and the biggest ego booster. He made you feel powerful.   

You leaned in to begin a whisper into his ear.

“My my my, what do we have here?” If Yunho was ecstasy, Seonghwa was the dirtiest mephedrone on the black market. That hand found your waist again. The woody scent on Yunho’s lapel invaded your senses. There came a time every woman had to face the music; you hadn’t wanted it to be tonight.

“Mr. Park, I don’t believe you’ve met my fiancé.”

“Park Seonghwa, right? I’m Yunho, nice to meet you, man.”

The newest patron took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Likewise, Doctor. I assume congratulations are in order.” You cast a sidewards glance to Yunho who was playing idly with the silver band on his finger. The whole ordeal was suffocating.

“So when’s the big day?” Seonghwa’s eyes were on you now, still full of the morning’s mischief.

“End of June; we’ll make sure to send you an invitation.” You scooted a little closer to Yunho, letting his guarding presence hold you upright. A shrill beep sounded from his breast pocket; one that you had heard many times. He cleared his throat a little and reached for the pager. Duty always called. It didn’t matter even if you had just helped to divert a nuclear crisis. If someone had their head cracked open on an operating table, Dr. Jeong would be there to patch them up. You took a long swig of the sweating cocktail and set it down.

“You should go, honey. It sounds urgent.”

He offered you a sheepish smile. Seonghwa just turned to face the bar, sloshing a drink in his hand.

“Multiple trauma crash on the 95. Baby, I’m sorry.” Yunho lightly grabbed out your hands that re-did the buttons of his suit.

“I of all people know that work is work. Don’t sweat it kid. I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay?”

“You’re not coming home?”He met your lips in a chaste kiss.

“I fly to Mumbai first thing in the morning and I still have lots of stuff to do before then.”

Yunho just nodded with understanding and bent down to peck your cheek one last time. “Text me when you land.”

“Will do. Drive safe.” When he was far you heard a snicker come from the side. Rolling your eyes you motioned the bartender over for a refill. It was Bruno tonight. Thank god. He always kept the good stuff on the side for you.

“Work is work, huh?”

“Precisely.”

The brooding man eased towards you slightly, still looking forward. “Are you working me?”

“For what reason would I do that? I have nothing to gain.”

He downed his dark liquid. “We both know that isn’t true.” and with that, he was gone into the crowd of tipsy politicians. Dim chandeliers and the gaudy presentation was suddenly becoming too much. With swift steps you made your way to the president’s table, a pleasant smile plastered on your face.

“Sir, I’m going to head out for the night; lots to do for tomorrow.”

“Of course, Y/N! Send my regards to Yunho on his surgeries. I saw that he left earlier.”

It was that obvious, huh? “I will. Thank you, Mr. President. Congratulations again on the agreement.” With a quick side hug to the misses and last goodbyes, you walked to the back entrance. Your night detail was waiting at the door, purse and coat in hand.

“Evening, ma’am.” You took your purse and got into the car.

“Hello, boys. I’m so ready to sleep.”

“Home, ma’am?”

“Not tonight, Sarge.”

“Of course.”

The ride to the Regis was short. Without much thought you were in your suite; draped in silk and nursing a vintage malt the adorable concierge had given you. And you had tried so hard to not come off as an alcoholic. How disappointing. The door clicked open but you didn’t pay it any attention as you were still enthralled by the itinerary in front of you. A hand pulled the pin out of your makeshift bun sending hair cascading over your shoulders.

“You work too hard, Y/N.”

“I am my work. It runs my life” The humming in your ear made a familiar heat rush to your chest. It flared out down your arms in little tingles.

“This here isn’t work. I think this is something you’re doing all for yourself.”

You reached behind you, bringing lips hard against your own. There was a little cut on the bottom one from a consistent bite the owner was likely not aware of. Sucking on the spot elicited the deepest moan you’d ever heard. Music on par with Nocturne op.9.

“Add selfishness to the qualities of my dynamic personality.”

You turned around in your seat and found a firm grip on your ass pulling you flush against a rattling chest. “He seems like a great guy.”

“Don’t talk about him, Seonghwa.” Stepping off the chair you pushed him towards the bed. He fell onto the plush surface without a sound of protest.

“You definitely have a type. The press would have a field day.”

Settling over the cocky speech writer that had been tugging on the edges of your mind all day was satisfying to say the least. You fit there perfectly; taking everything that was Park Seonghwa in until it made you dizzy. Though not as dizzy as he became when you abused his neck with abandon. You always adored his icy veins threatening to pop in restraint. His hands fumbled at your hip, willing you to move against him. He was too busy getting off to shameless moans of his name in his ear to feel your knee press down hard on his clothed dick.

“If anything gets out to the media, prepare to have this handed over to your uncle on a silver fucking platter.” His breath hitched and you swore the bulge in his pants only grew. You replaced the knee with your hand and used the other to rip open his now wrinkled button down. Your favorite surface. Not as broad as Yunho, but Seonghwa would say the filthiest things to get you to paint trails down his chest until he couldn’t breathe. That’s the difference between your choice of drugs. The most dangerous ones were the most addictive. So when he captured your mouth again, a fresh whimper on his lips, you had no intention of backing up the threat. Seonghwa. Seonghwa. Seonghwa. Pure honey to taste.   

“Please, just fucking ruin me, Y/N.”

“I serve at the pleasure.”  

[lifepros]

#8434

Find a hobby and stick with it. Being very good at something is much more fulfilling than being okay at many things.

An old reddit post I saved (not mine):

The scariest thing about getting older isn't aging. It's watching all the possibilities life had when you were younger are start to decay. Virtually every day you'll be hit with the question, "So this is it, huh?" and the sickening realization that you understand people who commit suicide more and more with each passing day. Life takes on an increasingly meaningless and tedious feeling as you get into your 30s. One of the best ways to get through these doldrums is to have an interest you really care about outside of work, friends and family. Something that no matter how much your life sucks you can still do and find satisfaction and meaning in and nobody can take away from you. The thing is, it takes time to nurture a hobby so that has this effect. The better you get at something, the more you tend to enjoy doing it. Being able to do something at an advanced level usually increases the value and satisfaction derived from your work. For example, how much more would you enjoy woodworking if you had tremendous skill and could build wildly beautiful museum grade furniture that people would cherish rather than another crappy birdhouse? How much more would you enjoy playing piano if you could play Chopin like a concert pianist instead of just Ode to Joy? Of course you can start a hobby at any age, but it's a lot easier to get to the point where it really starts paying dividends if you put in the hours in your 20s. I know so many 30 year olds who don't do anything besides watch tv and drink. All the hobbies they used to have were motivated primarily by a desire to impress the opposite sex and without that energy they just don't care about anything. They'll usually pop out a couple kids to make their life feel like it has some kind of purpose. But that's a selfish and reckless reason to have kids. If that's your reason for having kids, that they're essentially a form entertainment you're using to fill the existential void in your heart, then you're probably not going to find what you want in parenting. More than anything in your 20s, it's important to find at least one thing you do for no other reason than because you want to do it and you think it's important to the world. It doesn't have to be mind blowingly critical to the human race. What matters is that you care about it and think it has value. You have to think it's worth doing for its own sake and do it for that reason, too, not because you think it will make your life better. Finding meaning in life is like finding happiness: you can't walk right at it or it'll run away. Do something you would still do even if ever other person on Earth was dead, something you could do without an audience and be happier just knowing that it happened.