#i imagine his juniors make a lot of trouble for them steal away their followers and also act as collections agents and help find examples

[fortune-maiden]

Today's theme is overthinking Shi Wudu the Water Tyrant and what his tyranny actually looks like

[harostar]

Copy and pasted from elsewhere. My attempt to summarize Roman Holiday!

Roman's story follows him as a young man in Mistral, getting into trouble with a pair of Spider goons (Brick and Mortar). They attack him for mugging someone on their turf, so he beats them up and steals the protection money they were carrying. A week later, the Spiders pick him up and bring him to meet Lil' Miss herself. (Roman likes milfs.) He convinces her that he can do better than her current people, and eventually rises to become her right-hand man over the years.

But he's overly-ambitious, taking the Twins on a raid of a gang's base of operations. Paul Parrot has a "treasure" in the basement, which turns out to be a Rat Grimm he imported from Menagerie that he feeds people to. Roman manages to outwit him by injuring the Grimm with the twins' help, then provokes Paul until he flips out and his rage makes him the more desirable target for the Grimm. They escape, but Lil' Miss is pissed about him moving on his own AND putting her daughters' at risk. This was all according to his plan, as he wanted to get out of having to play bodyguard to the twins.

Eventually, he's caught taking an extra protection payment for himself. His old partner, Cammie (very similar to Ilia) warns him and lets him escape after a fight. He flees Mistral, going over his options — Vacuo has a strong criminal element, but it's hard to break into. Atlas is...well...Mantle has nothing worthwhile and trying in Atlas itself is too risky. So he heads for Vale.

Roman's first criminal act is holding up a bank, which goes comically. Literally no one believes its happening, because Vale doesn't HAVE major criminal stuff happening. A pair of incompetent Huntsmen (Roch and Kandi) try to stop him, but end up beaten while Roman escapes. They end up in hot water of their behavior, with Ozpin being interviewed about it briefly. Roman begins building a name for himself, coming to the attention of Hei Xiong. He's threatened, but walks away alive and decides to further reinvent himself by having his Spiders tattoo covered.

Meanwhile, young Trivia begins to rebel against her parents. They keep her in isolation, forcing her to wear a brown contact to hide her mismatched eyes in photos and whenever guests come over. Her father is a prominent City Manager working for the Vale council, and they make a big fuss over her "overactive imagination" and "refusal" to speak. She has a private tutor, a former Huntress that was fired from Signal Combat School after getting a student killed. I THOUGHT it might be Gretchen, but it doesn't match what we know — it was Signal, not Beacon, so Ozpin wasn't involved. Trivia drugs her teacher and sneaks out using her Semblance. She goes into the city and gets bullied by a gang of girls, ending with the police picking her up. One of the officers suspects abuse, but their hands are tied. There's a party going on, and Trivia rampages through it using her Semblance to cause trouble.

As the years go on, Trivia keeps sneaking out and rebelling. She goes on a stealing spree in town, coming home with a ton of new stuff. Her father catches her and notes that he paid everyone off to cover up her antics. In a rage, she throws her new parasol at him. This leads to her parents locking her in her room, using increasingly complex locks. She studies tutorials and manuals to learn to pick locks, but eventually has one too complex. With "Neo"'s encouragement, she tries to damage the lock with hairspray and a candle. Instead, she starts a fire and is forced to leap from her window to escape. In doing so, she discovers she can make her illusions more solid temporarily — reinforcing her parasol to break her fall, and being caught by "Neo". Her parents are furious, and her mother smashes "Neo" in front of her. Trivia finds she can no longer make "Neo", but realizes it was simply her own wishes being expressed by her Semblance.

Trivia is sent to Lady Browning's private finishing school, a school her mother graduated from. It has incredibly strict rules, uniforms, and a bunch of mean girls led by the Malachite Twins. Trivia is relentlessly bullied, until one night she sneaks out to follow the twins. She witnesses them attack Roman, and helps him escape. Afterwards, Lady Browning offers her a spot in her "advanced" program and asks her to help capture Roman. This advanced program trains...well....basically Black Widows, for lack of a better way to describe it. Advanced combat lessons, espionage training, lessons in deception and reading other people, ect. Trivia excels, but also makes contact with Roman. She introduces herself as Neo, because she doesn't want to be connected to her father. She also begins dying her hair and altering her uniform, beginning to create the persona we all know.

They immediately form a strong partnership, with Roman training her further in combat and criminal stuff. He has the Schemes Board from Chibi, and they plot together before pulling off their first big heist. They hit up the warehouse supplying most of the city's coffee, and steal what they can. Roch shows up, having lost his license and out for revenge. Neo hits him with a truck to save Roman, and they end up destroying the warehouse leaving them with the only supply of coffee to fence. Roman gifts Neo with Hush, while she gives him his signature hat and makes matching outfits for them.

They carry out various wacky crimes, making a profit while putting Xiong in an awkward position. He controls crime in Vale, and has the police under his thumb. But he doesn't want to claim he's involved with these wacky crimes, nor does he want to admit he's got competition. His conflict with Lil' Miss starts heating up, with both parties starting to gun for Roman.

Neo discovers Lady Beat's server room, and realizes the school is a way not only to train agents but to basically have hidden cameras on all the prominent families/businesses in Vale. She steals the hard drive, fights off the Twins when they come for her, and realizes Lil' Miss and Lady Beat are working together. Honey Wine, Roman's old friend from Mistral, helps the Spiders capture him to pay off her loan to Lil' Miss for her Vale nightclub. In desperation, Neo approaches a pair of cops parked outside Roman's apartment — they take her to Xiong, who calls himself her "uncle". He explains that her father owes him a lot of money, and he intends to use her as a hostage to get his money. Even so, he wishes he had a smart kid like her instead of his idiot son Junior. Neo knocks him out and assumes his appearance, joining his forces as they go after Lil' Miss and her gang.

Neo hijacks the Bullhead, rescues Roman, and then they decide to lie low at her parents' for lack of anywhere else to go. Cue a nod to Blake and Sun visiting Menagerie, with Roman shocked when she points out that the big mansion is her house. Her parents are furious, but let them in. Her parents drug them with tea, intending to trade Roman and the hard drive to Lil' Miss to get out from under Xiong. They've both been hoping to take over Xiong's empire, but Roman faked being drugged and takes them both out. He finds Neo, and they devise a plan to get everyone off their backs and get rid of the hard drive. Roman sends the data to Lisa Lavender, while Neo plays decoy and discovers her father in her old room. She realizes he was stealing Dust from Xiong, and hiding the cache UNDER her room. This was the reason he was so angry about the fire. She's furious to realize he basically had her locked in a prison over a bomb, and locks him in her old room.

She disguises herself and Roman as her parents, then tricks Lil' Miss into firing on her old room. The Dust explodes, killing everyone still inside the mansion — her father, and likely her mother, Lady Beat, and Hei Xiong. Roman asks if she's okay, but Neo is kind of...shrugs and not sure how she feels. They ride off into the sunset together.

So basically, Roman and Neo are best buddies. Roman was QUITE LITERALLY Neo’s first and only friend, after a lifetime of isolation and bullying. Also the first person to not give a shit about her being mute, or about her “weird eyes”. He just accepted her without question, and encouraged her to never settle for less than  she could take. 

Junior is a pathetic crime boss because he’s the idiot son of the ACTUAL crime boss, who Neo ended up killing. He seems to have submitted to Lil’ Miss Malachite after his father died.

Neo is a Black Widow highly-trained spy and assassin, as well as a Savant that learns rapidly through observation and a shit-ton of tutorial videos. She loved Fairy Tales growing up, with her favorite being “The Girl in the Tower”. (lol)

[ibijau]

Future Past pt17 / on AO3

After being dragged on a Night Hunt by Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen ponders the choices in front of him

“And that’s when Sect Leader Yao fell face first into the bog,” Nie Mingjue finished with a grin.

Lan Xichen, who had been fighting not to react for most of the story, burst out laughing so hard he had to stop walking, before quickly pressing one hand to his mouth in a vain effort to silence himself.

“There, I knew I hadn’t lost my touch,” Nie Mingjue said with an even wider grin, and Lan Xichen was nearly overcome with how much he’d missed him.

Of course he only had himself to blame for that. During the past year, Nie Mingjue had reached out to him several times, inviting Lan Xichen to spend a week or two in the Unclean Realm to flee his uncle’s students, or else suggesting they go on a Night Hunt together. But every time, Lan Xichen had found plenty of excuses to refuse. They were all good excuses, and he’d been busy with his regular duties, and the copying of the library, and…

And good or not, excuses were just excuses. The honest trust was that Lan Xichen had, in fact, been avoiding his best friend. The lingering shame from that horrible future had been too much to bear. How could he have faced Nie Mingjue, knowing he would have failed him someday, knowing he’d sided with his murderer, knowing he’d allowed his precious brother to turn into a monster? Horrified by the terrible friend he would have become, Lan Xichen had tried to distance himself from Nie Mingjue.

It hadn’t worked. Nie Mingjue had been patient with him, until one day he wasn’t, and just dropped by the Cloud Recesses unannounced, warned Lan Qiren that he was borrowing his nephew, and took Lan Xichen on a Night Hunt before anyone could protest. That had been the previous afternoon, and since then Nie Mingjue had been on a quest to make Lan Xichen laugh.

They’d just arrived at the location where a demon bear was causing trouble, and finally Nie Mingjue’s effort had been rewarded.

Now that he was laughing, Lan Xichen felt a little stupid for trying so hard to stay serious. Even if in his memories of the future Nie Mingjue had become an angry man too short tempered to have fun with, in the present he was the funniest person Lan Xichen knew.

The most forgiving, too, because he wasn’t even angry that Lan Xichen had pushed him away for an entire year.

“You’ve gotten too stern,” Nie Mingjue just said while Lan Xichen laughed. “I need to scold your uncle for making you work too much. I also need to steal you more often.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Lan Xichen replied, meaning it. He had been too serious since gaining those unwanted memories. Except for music lessons with Nie Huaisang, letters from Jiang Cheng, and a few chats with his brother, everything had felt dreary and stressful these last few months. “I’d wanted to act more maturely, but I suppose it’s important to have fun too.”

This prompted Nie Mingjue to make an annoyed noise.

“Huaisang told me the same thing last week,” he said in an aggravated tone. “That little brat…”

“I thought you wanted him to act more seriously?”

“I do, but not like that,” Nie Mingjue grumbled as he resumed walking. “He’s weird since he came back. First he ran off on his own, flying on his sabre…”

Lan Xichen winced. That hadn’t happened in his memory of another life. But at the same time, in that other life Nie Huaisang hadn’t gotten in nearly as much trouble, not during that first year in the Cloud Recesses at least. Lan Xichen couldn’t help feeling guilty about that, since it had to have been his fault for changing the normal course of events.

“Then when he comes back, he brings that orphan he found somewhere and demands that I let him join the sect!”

That was new as well.

“Did you agree?” Lan Xichen asked.

Nie Mingjue shrugged, and Lan Xichen had to bite his cheeks not to smile. So that was a yes. As expected, Nie Mingjue just didn’t know how to refuse his brother’s whims. It was comforting to know that this, at least, hadn’t changed.

“He’s obsessed with that kid,” Nie Mingjue explained. “Don’t know why. The boy is a damn pest, gets in fights all the time with everyone… but I guess he is clever, and he’s got potential. It’s just so weird to see Huaisang always asking about his progress. He’s never cared about any younger disciples before!”

“Maybe he brought you your future brother-in-law,” Lan Xichen teased.

“I don’t think so. The kid’s only about ten, I’d need to have a serious discussion with Huaisang if he was going after someone that young. Besides, doesn’t he already have a fling with that Lan disciple, what's his name… Su She, right?”

Hearing this, Lan Xichen’s good humour crumbled. Since Nie Huaisang had told him in Yunping City that there was nothing of the sort between himself and Su She, Lan Xichen had stopped thinking about it. But Nie Mingjue sounded quite sure of himself, so either Nie Huaisang had lied that time, or things had changed since then.

If so, Lan Xichen could only be happy for them, he supposed. After all he knew too well how loyal Su She could be toward those he cared about, and Nie Huaisang had passionately taken the defence of his friend on multiple occasions. They wouldn’t be the worst of matches, and if Lan Xichen felt any discomfort over that idea, it was only because of lingering memories of that future that would not be.

"Did I get it wrong?" Nie Mingjue asked when Lan Xichen remained silent too long. "I've just never heard that brat talk like that about anyone. Since he came back, it's all 'Su-xiong said this' about everything, except when it's 'Xichen-gege said that', so I figured you might know something”

He paused for a moment, looking concerned. Lan Xichen glanced around, in case Nie Mingjue had heard a noise, or noticed anything about that demon bear they were after, but everything seemed quiet.

“That Su She, what sort of a person is he?” Nie Mingjue suddenly asked with a grim expression. “Huaisang really is enthusiastic about that boy, but he’s mentioned that his ‘Su-xiong’ has a temper, and… he failed the exams even though both you and your uncle wrote that he’s been studying a lot. It's almost like he did it on purpose. And he’s so nervous since he came back, but he won’t say why.”

“Su She is not a bad person,” Lan Xichen replied, and it still startled him that he meant it. Something of the man he would have become lingered in Lan Xichen that was still suspicious of what Su She would have done, but in the end it was unfair to judge him on something that hadn’t happened yet. “He’s not the most popular junior in the sect, but he’s hardworking and very dedicated to his friendship with Huaisang. If they do have that sort of relationship…”

He hesitated for a second. The idea remained startlingly unpleasant, but he refused to linger on that.

“If it’s like that, then I think Huaisang could do a lot worse.”

Tension immediately drained from Nie Mingjue’s body, who smiled at his friend.

“That’s a relief. I've been really… did you hear that?"

Lan Xichen gave one short nod, his hand resting on his sword. The cracking noise they'd both heard was followed by more, then a series of low grunts. 

The demon bear had been found. 

 -

 The Night Hunt went well, not that Lan Xichen ever doubted it. He vaguely recalled that even in the other future they’d hunted that demon bear, and though he hadn’t remembered the details, he knew it had gone very well over there too. 

With their job done, Nie Mingjue and him warned the local magistrate that the threat had been handled before heading to a local inn to eat and relax for a moment. They both had a lot of work waiting for them at home, but Night Hunting together was always a chance to escape that for a time, and to pretend they were just two ordinary young men as careless as others their age. They usually went to the site of the Night Hunt quickly, aware that lives might be at stake, and then took several days to come home, travelling together as far as they could before separating. It felt like a bit of innocent mischief, and Lan Xichen loved it. 

The inn they ended up in was pleasant enough, though Lan Xichen’s standards were not very high at that moment. As long as he was safe from the bitter winter cold, with some warm tea, and decent enough food, he was satisfied. Still, it was a pleasant bonus to discover that there was a musician at the inn that day, playing on his flute whatever songs people requested as long as they dropped a few coins. The man was decently skilled, and some of the songs were nice enough that Lan Xichen wouldn’t have minded learning them.

To Lan Xichen’s surprise, Nie Mingjue too was paying attention to the performer. It struck him as quite odd, since his friend had little taste for songs unless they were weapons to use in battle.

“If that melody is one you like, I can ask for its name and try to learn it,” Lan Xichen offered after a moment, a little excited for a chance to please his friend. “It would not be a problem.”

The suggestion startled Nie Mingjue who tore his eyes from the performer, and seemed a little embarrassed to have been caught staring.

“That’s very generous of you, but I was just… thinking about Huaisang,” he admitted. “He’s really obsessed with music lately. Even raided our library in search of pieces to learn. I’m trying to understand what’s so great about that. At least with painting I can see if it’s good or not, and his birds force him to be responsible, but music… I’m really out of my depth with that, and I hate that I don’t know how to support him.”

Nie Mingjue sighed, as if it truly wounded him that his brother would have a passion so foreign to his own interests. Perhaps it did. Lan Xichen, whose tastes were so similar to his brother’s in most things, couldn’t imagine what it would be like to love so much someone so different from one’s self.

"Is he actually any good?” Nie Mingjue then asked. “he sounds great to me, but that's not saying much. Every musician sounds good to me. But some of the elders have said they're impressed by his skill, and said they’d like him to play sometimes when we have guests to entertain. They might just be polite." 

"Did he borrow a guqin from someone to continue practicing?" Lan Xichen asked, still surprised by the enthusiasm Nie Huaisang showed for music.

"Worse, he bought his own," Nie Mingjue explained, rolling his eyes. "That brat! He used up half his allowance for the year on that. I’ve warned him not to beg for money in six months when he has nothing to use for his trips to Gusu, he needs to learn not to overspend like that."

Lan Xichen froze, and for a second nearly fell into breathless panic. It was a stupid thing to worry about, compared to everything else he had changed, but… 

But in that other life too he'd gone on that Night Hunt with Nie Mingjue, who had then complained that his brother had spent a fortune on a series of exquisite fans, and even had made the same threat about not giving him more funds (which he still had done when Nie Huaisang had written to beg for money down the line). It had been the starting point of Nie Huaisang's collection, a collection that he'd continued working on for the rest of his life, no matter what else changed. 

Even that very last time Lan Xichen had met Nie Huaisang in that other life, after every lie had been revealed, even as he spilled all of his hatred for a man he'd grown to despise, Nie Huaisang had been flaunting a brand new fan, painted by a famous artist. 

Fans had appeared to be Nie Huaisang’s last joy left after he'd lost everything else, and if Lan Xichen had taken that from him… 

"You know," Nie Mingjue said, "whether he's good or not, I'm grateful you decided to teach him. He's so damn nervous all the time these days, but playing seems to calm him. So I was wondering if you might continue with the lessons?”

“Really?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged with affected indifference. 

“If that brat is finally interested in something I can pretend is related to cultivation… " he grumbled." I’m not asking you to teach him any Lan songs," he quickly added," but I wouldn’t mind if some of our elders thought that. If you have time, of course. It’s gonna be a rough year for you, with the students you have coming this time."

Lan Xichen wrinkled his nose at the thought. The year promised to be intense indeed. He hadn’t yet decided what to do about that Wei Wuxian person who would play such a role in his brother's life, sometimes for the better, often for the worse. In his memories of the future, the man he’d become had eventually accepted that Wei Wuxian was Lan Wangji’s true love, sharing with him a bond so strong that not even death had severed it. 

But Lan Xichen as he currently was couldn’t help thinking about all the pain and hardship that love had cost his brother, and he wasn’t sure if that was quite worth it. For all that he’d supported the acquaintance when it had started in that other life, Lan Xichen now wanted to prevent his brother from falling in love with that person. Surely it would be better if Lan Wangji didn't suffer like that. 

“I don’t mind continuing the lessons,” Lan Xichen said, who had already been planning for that anyway. “He’s quite good, and he actually could learn some of our songs, if he set his mind to it. Besides, he’s good company, we’ve had some good fun.”

Not to mention Nie Huaisang might be able to help with whatever Lan Xichen decided to do regarding Wei Wuxian, since they would become good friends. He might give a hand in preventing Lan Wangji from meeting that boy, or give a hint in the right direction if Lan Xichen decide to help that little romance.

“So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me then,” Nie Mingjue replied dryly. “A prettier friend who makes you laugh and calls you cute nicknames… I'm ditched so easily. Truly tragic.”

It was a joke. 

Having been friends with him for this many years, Lan Xichen knew how Nie Mingjue joked, as deadpan as his brother was dramatic, but this time the teasing hit a little too close to home. Lan Xichen hurriedly grabbed his friend’s hands and squeezed them tight. For a moment he found himself fighting to breathe, for which Nie Mingjue threw him a concerned look.

“I would never betray you,” Lan Xichen managed to wheeze out. “I swear! You… You are my friend, the person I trust the most, the person who knows me best. I would never choose someone else over you!”

Not again, anyway.

Not while knowing what the cost of it might be.

Of course even in that other future he’d thought he’d been acting for Nie Mingjue’s good. He’d thought he was helping. He had trusted Jin Guangyao's sweet words, trusted the power of Cleansing, trusted… 

Nie Mingjue freed one of his hands, and leaned closer to rub circles on Lan Xichen's back, encouraging him to breathe. It was Lan Xichen's worst attack since the night he awoke with memories not quite his own. Panic and guilt mixed together, closing his throat tighter so no air could get to his lungs. It lasted long enough that Lan Xichen wondered if it might be possible for him to die like this. 

Just as soon as that idea hit him, his body's desperate need for air became stronger than the power of his memories, and he was able to take one shaky breath. He gasped and coughed, all too aware of the eyes of other patrons on him, while Nie Mingjue continued rubbing his back. 

"Wipe your face," Nie Mingjue gently ordered when his friend had calmed down, handing him a napkin. "Do you need to go out for some fresh air, or do you prefer to sit?" 

"Sit," Lan Xichen replied in a raspy voice as he dried his tears. "Sorry. It happens sometimes. It looks worse than it is."

Nie Mingjue said nothing. A fresh pot of tea was ordered, which soothed Lan Xichen's poor throat and warmed him up again. He still felt a little fragile, but put on a smile to hide it. This, in turn, only made Nie Mingjue frown. 

"Your uncle told me he was worried about your health when I saw him some weeks ago, but I didn't realise it was this bad."

"My health is fine," Lan Xichen protested. After one sharp look from his friend, he continued: "It really isn't that bad. I've been a little anxious, that's all. It's hard not to be in the current climate." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Haven't the Wen just absorbed another sect?" 

Nie Mingjue grimly nodded. The leader of a sect had just died, and Wen Ruohan had promptly married his youngest son to the man's daughter and claimed the whole sect. It was not something they could openly discuss, but the issue was serious and should have distracted Nie Mingjue from the panic attack he'd witnessed. 

It did not quite work. 

"Your uncle too mentioned something about that when I saw him. He used to be pretty sure nothing would happen, but lately he's been keeping me updated on that sort of news." 

Lan Xichen hesitated. His plan regarding the war, so far, had been to stay out of things. The Sunshot campaign appeared to him like a terrible thing that could not, should not be avoided, like a great fire that would allow for a healthier regrowth. Perhaps he might have hoped to lessen the damage, but ultimately nothing less than a war could rid them of Wen Ruohan. 

That plan to allow for the war to unfold naturally was countered by two things. 

The first was that Lan Xichen had already changed the way it would happen. If everything went as he hoped, Meng Yao would never become a spy amidst the Wens, something which had been crucial to their victory (or something that had appeared to be so to the man Lan Xichen had become; he was ever so fond of that Meng Yao, perhaps the memories of that dark future were tainted by that). It was after all unlikely that the Jiangs would ever give Meng Yao any help to join Lanling Jin, his first step toward spying on Wen Ruohan… and that was supposing Meng Yao even survived long enough to take part in the war, when most of Yunmeng Jiang was fated to be slaughtered.

And this was the second issue with Lan Xichen’s initial plan. He had, from the start, been uncomfortable with allowing the slaughter of the Lotus Pier to happen, even when it would someday become agreed that nothing less than this attack on a Great Sect could have convinced the cultivation world to finally rebel against the Wens. But just because people in the future found ways to justify that disaster didn’t make it right to do nothing to avoid it. Lan Xichen was taking measures to protect his sect, wasn’t it his responsibility to also help others?

Having been cursed with that knowledge, wasn’t it his duty to…

“Breathe,” Nie Mingjue said, his hand on Lan Xichen’s shoulder once more. “Slowly, breathe in, breathe out. There you go.”

Lan Xichen obeyed, and managed to avoid another attack, though only narrowly, and only because the fear of the Sunshot Campaign was his alone. The man he would have become had made his peace with the horror witnessed during that time, but Lan Xichen himself was overcome by terror every time he thought about what was to come.

It was a burden too heavy for his shoulders alone, and he alone couldn’t have done much to prevent that dark future from coming to pass, at least where that war was concerned.

So perhaps he needed to not do it alone. What good had secrets done to Jin Guangyao, to Nie Huaisang, in that future that would not be? It had turned them into monsters, bitter and too willing to hurt others, and for what? Jin Guangyao had lost everything, Nie Huaisang had become isolated from everyone who had ever cared about him, and all just because they wanted to be in control, because they thought nobody around them was worthy of being told the truth.

Lan Xichen refused to become like them

“Mingjue-xiong, do you trust me?” he asked when he had calmed down again, and breathing wasn’t such a struggle.

“You wouldn’t be my friend if I didn’t trust you,” came the answer, honest and earnest and so painful that Lan Xichen thought panic would seize him again over that underserved trust.

But this time he managed to keep his calm, either because he was too exhausted to panic again, or because his mind saw this as a chance to right some of the wrong he would have caused in the future.

“I have something to tell you,” Lan Xichen said as he stood up. “But we’ll need to be somewhere more private. It’s going to sound completely crazy to you, but… you need to know.”

Nie Mingjue looked worried but quietly stood up as well. They left the inn together and took flight, making their sword rise high in the sky, where no one might spy on them without their notice.

“So, here is what happened,” Lan Xichen explained when he felt he could do it safely. “Around this time last year, I had a vision…”

He wouldn’t, couldn’t say everything, because it would have been too cruel to plague Nie Mingjue with the knowledge of his own early death, to tell him how loss and rage would turn his beloved brother into a man he might have despised. But the rest, the Wen’s exactions, the war that loomed over them… this Lan Xichen shared with more details than he’d ever given to Lan Qiren. Nie Mingjue listened, first with astonishment, then with concern, eventually with anger. 

"Are you sure?" Nie Mingjue asked when Lan Xichen had finished a quick tale of what was to come. 

"I know it's odd, and I won't blame you if you find it impossible to believe." 

Nie Mingjue did not reply right away, a deep frown creasing his forehead. 

"You've already had proof, and you're sure of it. That's good enough for me. Now let's find a quiet place to talk about this. I'll need you to tell me everything you remember about the Wen's forces, so I can start preparing." 

Lan Xichen felt breathless again, but this time it was gratitude overwhelming him. He'd forgotten how good Nie Mingjue was. Those last few months had spoiled so much, souring old memories, but there had been such great times before that. There would be even more, in this new life, this new chance they'd been given. 

This time, he swore to himself, he would be worthy of that affection.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

hungry eyes (pjm)

Summary: Jimin's summer job is more often than not a pain in the ass, but you seem different than the other girls who need dance instruction at the resort.

A/n: A commission for @kpopnoobsstuff​! 

Warnings: dirty dancing au, some prejudice given race relations for Asian Americans in the 60′s but not a lot of detail, unprotected sex, public vaginal fingering, praise, dirty talk, Jimin is a jackass like over half this fic, a serious ankle injury, angst, mention of sex work (with an age gap), alcohol, smoking

Word Count: 8767 (i have a lot of feelings about this movie)

Rating: Mature

hey, hey hey baby

Of all the things Jimin had dreamed he'd end up doing, working as a dance instructor/gigolo at an expensive resort wasn't one of them.

Julliard wasn't cheap, though, and so every summer he ended up here at Sanders resort, teaching salsa and letting old ladies put hundred dollar bills into the back pocket of his slacks as tips.

Jimin fucking hated the crowd at the resort, hated the way they smelled like new money and champagne, how they looked at him like either a side of meat (the women) or like something that they needed to scrape off the bottom of their shoe (most of the men).

It's better than before, digging ditches during the summer and shoveling snow during the winter because no one is going to hire a Korean boy for an office no matter how good his English.

His hands had cracked and bled, forming callouses where they'd been smooth before and he finds himself running his thumbs over the ones on his palms while waiting for his cue in rehearsal.

When his coworker tells him of a gig he'd done, Jimin's eyebrow raised at his friend's paycheck.

Having to go by "Jimmy" instead of Jimin because the supervisors think his given name is too hard to pronounce puts a bad taste in his mouth, but he needs the money. It isn't as if he can tell his parents he's decided to be a professional dancer instead of a doctor or lawyer like they'd dreamed, and they didn't have the funds to help with tuition anyway.

So he spends every summer rolling his hips for the hungry eyes in the crowd, smiling and pretending that them purring, "Jimmy" in his ear doesn't make him shudder. It's the third summer before anything truly interesting happens.

Jimin didn't even like salsa or ballroom dancing or the mamba or any of the stupid easily learned dances he was forced to perform. He was a classical dancer, ballet being his forte, but this pays the bills and it's a way to keep his father off his back about his choice in colleges.

The older women weren't so bad, they'd give him anything if he whispered "noona," in their diamond decorated ears, but the younger girls, the ones who came there with daddy's money, those are the ones he doesn't fuck with.

The only woman he'd fucked with outside of work, in fact, had been Sunmi, his best friend since childhood, and even that not for years. Sunmi had followed him to Julliard and to the resort but they'd gone their own way after that and it wasn't as if they were ever in love, after all.

Despite the rumors among the staff, Jimin hasn't touched Sunmi outside of dancing in going on three years. He knew they looked like a couple, moved in tune with each other's bodies, and that's why they got paid the big bonuses.

Maybe he still got a little worked up after performances, liked to work up a sweat after at the dancer's barracks, and who could blame him when he sees you slumming it, tapping your toe to the music with your nose wrinkled and a little smile on your face.

He doesn't even have to say anything, just smiles at you, quirks his finger and you bounce forward ungracefully enough to make him laugh.

Sunmi snickers at him but he waves her off, knows she makes her rounds among the male staff that work in catering so she can't judge.

 You know of Jimmy before you ever see him, having several members of the staff tell you in no uncertain terms to stay away from him, that he's trouble. You're surprised by how good he is, you can't take your eyes off him during the first dance performance of the summer. Jimmy Park certainly looks like trouble, with his sly smirk and the way he’d effortlessly flipped up his partner, Sunny, her skirt flipping up to reveal a pair of boyshorts stretched across her perfect bottom, and you’d swear he’d winked at you after.

You don’t think about the dancers for a while, busy touring the resort with your sister, who’d dragged you to the resort in the first place. You’d wanted to stay home and study, but your father had insisted that you join the family for the summer.

It’s boring, more for the older crowd than someone like you, a junior in college. You’re studying business because that’s what your father wants, but you like to write poetry, and you’re usually content to stay in your room and scribble.

It’s hot, though, the air conditioning not doing much to help the humidity, so you go for a walk, hoping there’s a bit of a breeze.

While you’re out, you run into a staff member, a dancer you think, but you aren’t sure, you’d been so busy watching the instructor. 

“Girl shouldn’t be out this late at night alone. Might get in trouble,” he teases.

He’s cradling bottles of alcohol and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for stealing those?”

He laughs, loud and open. He’s cute, dressed down in a white tshirt and jeans, not like the stuck up staff members that do catering and management in the resort.

“Not if you don’t tell, baby.”

You bristle, but only a little. That’s what everyone calls you, after all, Baby might as well be your name. You’re the youngest and you’ll admit you’ve always been spoiled.

He shuffles the liquor bottles around to stick out his hand. “I’m BamBam.”

You shake his hand, a bit awkwardly because of all that he’s holding. “Interesting name.”

His face falls, just a bit, but then he smiles again. “You don’t know the half of it.” 

Bambam pauses for a moment, and then cocks his head. “You wanna help me with all this? I’ll show you something.”

You’d been warned about being alone with men, you’d had some experiences in college that you’d never tell your family about, it’s not as if you’re a prude, but especially here, so many staff members whispered about how “dangerous” the dance crew was, but you’ve been bored out of your mind, and Bambam seems sweet, if a little flirty.

You shrug and take a couple of bottles, giggling when he sighs dramatically in relief.

It’s such a long walk that you start to get worried, but eventually you start to hear the music, a surprising amount of bass given the attitude of the resort in general, juggling two half liters of expensive vodka likely pilfered from the resort bar.

BamBam kicks the door open, nearly dropping the liquor, and you manage not to laugh but it’s a near thing. The heat almost hits you in the face, the music louder than you’d imagined, and you find your mouth dropping open, looking around at the dancers.

You recognize a few members of the dance team, but none more than Jimmy, the dancer you’d been unable to keep your eyes from earlier that week.

His partner, she’d introduced herself as Sunny and you’d noticed she was nearly as beautiful as him, is practically riding his thigh, her head thrown back as he moves to the music, and you turn your eyes away, embarrassed.

It seems intimate in a way that makes you feel a pang of envy. You’d had flirtations here and there, even a few flings at college (which you pray your father would never catch wind of), but here? In public, in front of everyone?

You try to tell yourself the heat in your stomach is from embarrassment instead of arousal.

When you look over, Bambam is looking over at you with a sly grin. He juggles the liquor bottles.

“You wanna try it?”

You gasp out loud and hope he can’t hear you over the music.

“The dancing,” he explains, all but yelling over the beat.

“Oh!” You exclaim, and his sly grin widens.

“What did you think I meant?” 

“Nothing! Nothing!” You insist, and finally find somewhere to put down your cargo on a large table next to the wall, just to have something to do rather than be embarrassed.

Bambam shrugs and moves to do the same, and you’re just standing there, looking around at everyone and how free and happy they look, so different than the way they look during performances and during instructions.

Bambam is about to say something to you, leaned in toward your ear, when Jimmy walks up to the table, and you freeze like a deer in headlights.

“Hey baby,” he says in this low but melodic tone, and you have this weird sense like you always do when someone calls you that, as if they know you somehow, know you’re the baby and daddy’s little girl and are somehow judging you for it.

To be fair, Jimmy looks like he’s judging everyone, even when he’s pasted on a smile during a rumba class or smirking during a resort wide performance. You’re not sure if it’s confidence, arrogance, or anger, but you have to admit it’s a little attractive, the way his dark eyes flash when you put out your hand for him to take.

He doesn’t just lead you out onto the dance floor, he tugs at your arm, pulls you close to his chest, looks down at you as if you’re lovers and you suppose the way the others dance, that’s just how this goes, that’s how the dance goes, but when he slides his thigh between yours you can’t help but gasp.

He laughs right at the shell of your ear and it makes goosebumps pop up on the flesh between your neck and shoulder.

“You gotta move your hips, baby. Nobody likes a dead fish.”

It takes a few moments and more of your face feeling hot but you manage to get a rhythm and it’s hotter in here than you’d expected, sweat rolling from the fine hairs at your temples to your neck, his hands on your hips and his eyes on yours and it’s intense, makes you wonder if this is what you’ve been missing out on when you refuse to go with your sister to the staff parties that she’s been trying to drag you to the whole resort stay.

His face is so close you can see the sweat on his brow, the way his full lips are parted, leaning closer and closer in and you could swear he is going to kiss you, you even tilt your chin up, part your own lips, close your eyes.

Then he spins you, instead, and you feel dizzy, open your eyes, and see him striding off toward the back of the building.

You huff out a long breath, torn between storming out into the cool night air or following him, deeper into the humid building, like descending into hell if you were to believe the way your father’s pastor preaches at your hometown church.

You look back at the open door, the breeze cooling the sweat on your body and making you shiver, before you follow him, weaving between the people on the crowded dance floor with murmured apologies.

You follow him all the way out into the night, just on the other side, and you feel a little stupid for your dramatic thinking earlier, watching him exhale smoke from his nose, leaned against he back of the barn.

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t make any indication that he knows you’re there.

“Jimmy?” You call, and you’d meant to be flirty, aggressive even, but it comes out small in the cold air.

He scoffs, takes another drag from his cigarette, glances over at you.

“What, you gonna pay for a lesson? Bet you didn’t bring daddy’s wallet with you when you followed Bam.”

“I-I didn’t-I don’t,”

He smiles then, not as much of a smirk, and it softens his face.

“Don’t worry,  baby. I'm only teasing. I’m not gonna tell your daddy you’re out here slumming it.”

“I’m not-” your voice raises and he turns his head to face you, one eyebrow raised, and you lower your tone. “I’m not slumming it.”

He shrugs lazily, offers you a drag of his cigarette and you don’t smoke but you place your lips around the end anyway, wonder if you can taste his mouth on it, inhale and manage not to cough.

“Jimmy-” you continue, and he rolls his eyes and your heart races, feeling like you’d said something stupid, and maybe you have because he flicks his cigarette into the night, turns, bracing himself against the wall and when he’s closer you wonder if he’s drunk, you can smell some type of acrid liquor and the leather of his jacket.

“My name is Jimin,” he says, and there’s no slur at all around his words so maybe you’re wrong about that last part.

“Jimin,” you repeat, the name rolling around your mouth, feeling thick on your tongue like the red wine you sip at your father’s dinner parties. You find yourself tilting your chin up again as he nods sharply and your eyes keep flickering between the sharp line of his jaw and his full mouth.

“I know your kind,” he continues, and you haven’t even partaken in any of the liberally spiked punch at the party but you’re the one who feels drunk, your head light on your shoulders.

“My...kind?”

Jimin does that sharp nod again, shifts his body so that he’s standing in front of you now and your shoulders brush the back wall of the barn.

“Mmhm. Come out here on Saturday nights to see what all the fuss is about, you college girls with fur lining your purses, I swear to God I could taste the silver spoon in your mouth if I kissed you,” he breathes, his words rude and harsh but you don’t move, don’t push him away, can’t stop staring up at the flash in his eyes.

That’s what they’ve been missing, you think. That’s what all those college boys you’ve let put their hands up your skirt, grab your tit too hard in the backseat of their muscle cars, even let them fuck you over the hood of said muscle cars, hoping for some kind of thrill because it’s wrong and dirty but all you got was their cum seeping down your inner thigh and their murmured apologies and this ache between your legs. Because they didn’t have this, this energy you can feel in the air, the light in his eyes, something like anger and lust and yearning all wrapped into one.

It isn’t even for you, not really, you’re not dumb enough to believe that, but god, is it something.

“You could test that theory,” you mumble, sure that your words sound slurred, leaning into him, and his chuckle is bitter but it still sends a hint of a shiver down your spine. He traces his finger under your chin, the corners of that full mouth turning up.

“What makes you think I want to, baby?”

You’re cute, he supposes, in that way that all little rich girls are cute, with your bouncy ponytail that you almost always wear, your conservative dresses. After he’d left you outside with just the smoke from his rolled cigarette hanging in the air, he prided himself in not giving in.

He’s positive he could have fucked you, could have coaxed you to his room with a few short words, but he knows from the rest of the dance team (especially from Bambam, who’d bagged his fair share of the rich daughters of CEOs, bank owners, lawyers, doctors, and the like from the resort, considered himself a bit of an expert in the matter), that taking one of those types to your bed leads to nothing but drama. 

Drama wasn’t something Jimin needed, especially since all the odds were already stacked against him in this job (in life, really, but who’s counting?) Jimin wouldn’t consider himself a bitter person, in fact throughout his childhood and most of his adolescence, he’d been positive, optimistic, always smiling. He’d gotten stellar grades, always did what his parents wanted, had even planned to work on law school after graduation. The one class he took was mind numbingly boring, and he had no aptitude for debating. He’d been naïve, foolishly thought that his father would support whatever he wanted to do, and since he felt most alive when he was with his friends, dancing, making their own choreography, he’d approached his father with an application to Julliard.

Needless to say, Jimin became less naïve day by day, after that. It was gradual, his fall from grace, as some people might say. He thought of it more as growing up, as becoming more who he should be - and if that was a bitter asshole who manipulated rich older women into his bed for extra funds, so be it.

This isn’t to say that he doesn’t feel shame about it sometimes, or even guilt, especially like with Mrs. Jensen, nearing fifty but with the most beautiful  green eyes and the way she called him “Jiminie,” had insisted on learning his real name, traced the line of his spine in bed before he got up to dress and murmured how he was the most beautiful boy.

“If I were twenty years younger, Jiminie. Hell, I were only ten years younger,” she’d mourn, those green eyes almost liquid, and he’d smile and tell her she didn’t look a day over thirty and she’d scoff but she’d also smile, and when she smiles sometimes Jimin thinks that if he isn’t careful, age gap or no, he might just fall in love.

In the end, though, he felt okay about what he did, it was a means to an end, and if he judged the denizens of the resort too harshly, that’s because they could take it, no skin off their teeth with their millions of dollars in the bank. They could dry their tears with hundred dollar bills.

It isn’t until daylight the next morning, when Jimin wakes up slightly hungover and chugs a glass of water, when there’s this flash of your face in his head, tilted up to his, this almost hungry look in your eyes.

He’d like to say he’d seen that look before, but he hasn’t. Not quite in the same way.

Jimin doesn’t want to think about it long, and for a while he’s able to distract himself with his morning workout and then rehearsal, but for the first time in several summers, he misses a couple of steps and Sunmi looks at him from the corner of her eye with a sly smile.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, and she laughs and does a little piourette.

Jimin thinks later maybe she was hungover too, or had taken too many of those codeine pills she claimed were for her periods, but she loses her balance and goes down, too quick for Jimin to catch her, off the stage, her foot caught under her body.

She cries out but then bites her lip, hard, knowing that the supervisor was just around the corner, gorging himself on snacks and champagne while they all worked for hours to get the steps just right.

Jimin tries not to show it, but he knows as soon as he hops off the stage that Sunmi’s ankle is broken, and badly. It’s already swollen, already turning a bit purple, a bit of bone poking through, a streak of blood down her foot.

“Fuck,” Sunmi says in a pained whisper, eyes liquid when she looks up at him. “Jiminie, what am I gonna do?”

Jimin knows she doesn’t mean the ankle. He knows she means the next rehearsal and the next, the big dance they’ll be doing at a nearby resort, representing the dance troupe and the hotel. He knows she means her whole fucking life because if she loses this she can’t pay for Julliard.

“We’ll figure it out, jagiya,” he says softly, lifting her into his arms. Sunmi buries her face in his chest and Jimin makes hand signals at a wide eyed Bambam to distract the supervisor while Jimin carries her back to the barracks.

There’s nothing but nervous energy throughout your body the rest of the week, as you sit through your father gorging himself on shrimp, your mother chugging champagne, your sister flirting with the staff members at the buffet. You’re barely able to make conversation, not that anyone notices. You’re used to being ignored, as the baby of the family. All you can think of is the dance instructor’s full lips inches from yours, his finger trailing up your throat before he’s just gone and you’re all but swooning with the smell of him around you like a haze.

You’d seen him a few times that week, watching from far away as he twirled a few women around the dance floor, once at a resort performance, right in front and center, seen the way his nose wrinkled when they introduced him as “Jimmy Park.” He hadn’t given you a second glance, and while it stung, you weren’t one to give up easily, not after how you’d felt when he’d looked at you, really seen you.

You’re sneaking out of the resort room when it’s barely ten pm on the last Sunday, unable to wait any longer and shimmying out the back window just as you had the other night. You manage to remember the way to the barn, and even if you didn’t you can practically feel the music booming under your feet, the faint sound drawing you closer.

Your heart rate increases as you get closer and you stand near the edge of the building, a wallflower as always, but your eyes are searching the floor. You don’t see him anywhere, and after a few moments you’re sure your lip is turning into a pout. You do spot Bambam, your ambassador from the other night, and you figure he might know something about Jimin’s whereabouts.

Bambam goes uncharacteristically quiet when you bring up Jimin’s name, though, face blanching slightly.

You look at him curiously. “Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “No. Fine, everything’s fine.”

“Bambam?”

He won’t look at you, rocking back and forth on his heels, and then he freezes. “Hey. Baby.”

“Hmm?” You’re distracted, looking around at the crowd in hopes that Jimin will show.

“Didn’t you say your father was a doctor?”

It’s a whirlwind after that, your brief panic wondering what might be wrong, the internal struggle to know if you should wake up your father or not, knowing he’ll ask what you’ve been doing out and about, waking your father and having Bambam lead you both to the dancer’s barracks, where you see Jimin sitting on the coffee table, getting up when Bambam bursts in with your father, who is carrying his doctor’s bag.

“What the fuck-” he hisses in a low voice, looking right at Bambam and not even acknowledging you.

Your father, for his part, rushes to the couch, where Sunmi is bundled in blankets but still shivering, sweat on her brow, and when your father yanks back the blanket you gasp because her right foot is dark purple and swollen.

For the first time, Jimin looks at you, and there’s nothing but dark fury in her eyes. “Get her out of here,” he demands, and Bambam’s mouth opens and closes like a fish.

“Jimin-” you start, and he scoffs, turns away from you, toward your father, thanking him for coming and explaining what happened, ignoring you as if you were never there at all.

You wait anxiously in the living quarters, and you wince when you hear Sunmi cry out as your father works on her ankle. It takes hours, and while you wait, Bambam explains what happened and you just cock your head, confused.

“Why didn’t she just see a doctor?”

Bambam frowns, but before he can answer Jimin is stalking into the room.

“Yeah, why didn’t she just see a doctor?” Jimin mocks, staring at you with glittering eyes. “It’s that easy, princess?”

You don’t know how to answer, your face feeling hot, and you want to look away but you can’t. “Explain it to me.”

Jimin laughs, bitter and low. “You’d never understand, Baby. We can’t all call daddy and have him throw money at the situation.”

“Jimin, she brought him here to help us, we should be kind-” Bambam protests, and Jimin waves a hand at him.

Jimin turns to you, takes your hand and even though his eyes are still glittering with anger, your breath catches in your throat at his touch.

You’re perched on the arm of a chair and he leans down slightly, brushes his lips just barely over the back of your hand, all the while looking into your eyes.

“Thank you, princess, for deigning to help us peasants,” he says, voice low and charming and absolutely dripping with venom.

Anger rises in your chest, tightening in your throat but you stay quiet, jerking your hand from his and looking away.

Your father tersely gives instructions to Jimin after both Sunmi and Jimin refuse a hospital, and Jimin nods, but you see his face fall when he says something about how she is not to bear weight on her ankle for six weeks at least.

Your father is escorting you out with a blank expression but you’re looking back at Jimin and he’s watching you with those dark, glittering eyes.

It’s only a few days before your father has to go back and visit Sunmi, and he’s barely spoken a word to you, angry that you hadn’t told him about your friendships with the staff, you suppose. You can’t bring yourself to care, you’re an adult and even if he’s paying your tuition, he doesn’t have the right to tell you with whom to spend your time.

You insist on going with him to check on Sunmi, and you do sit with her for a few moments before you hear Jimin and Bambam arguing.

“Can’t someone else do it?”

You know Jimin’s scoff well by now, it seems like that’s what he’d been doing most of the few weeks you’d known him.

“No, Bam, someone else can’t do it! No one else knows the routine, it’s a special stage for Sunmi and me. Maria’s on maternity leave and Sooyoung can’t learn it in two weeks on top of the final rehearsals for the final show.”

“Do what?” You ask softly, standing in the doorway and shutting Sunmi’s door behind you.

“Can’t go a week without princess butting her head in,” Jimin mutters, and you huff out a breath.

“It’s a special dance stage,” Bambam explains. “Sunmi is expected there and so far she’s been able to get out of rehearsals but if the performance doesn’t happen, the supervisor…” he trails off, and you fill in the gaps.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Can’t fix this with daddy’s money,” Jimin snaps.

“I wasn’t trying to-” you cry out, and then lower your voice. “I wasn’t trying to fix it, I just...I wanted to help.”

Jimin laughs. “Help? How? You shivered when I so much as brushed my hand across your hip when we danced.”

Bambam raises an eyebrow at that and you keep trying to fight down anger.

“I could...I could learn,” you insist.

“You are a dance instructor,” Bambam reminds him helpfully, and although Jimin is still incredulous, that's how it happens.

That’s how you start to spend three days a week at Jimin’s small bedroom, learning the steps to the most complicated dance you’d ever heard of. That’s how you start to fall in love with him.

I wanna know, oh

This is stupid, he thinks, over and over. This is so fucking stupid and it isn’t going to work and I’ll fail and Sunmi will be fired. Hell, I might be fired.

You keep stumbling in the heels you’d be required to wear for the dance and you’re taller than Sunmi so that throws off the whole performance and you only have just a touch of rhythm and you have an attitude and the list goes on and on.

The two of you are two weeks into rehearsals when it all comes to a head. You’d huffed out a long breath or given him a withering stare before, when he’d snapped at you or corrected your steps roughly, but usually you let it go.

There’s not enough room in his tiny space, and it’s not like the two of you were exactly friends, so it’s tense, for the most part.

One day, at the last rehearsal of the week, he spins you and you miss a step, stomp down on the top of his foot with your heel and he cries out and curses.

“This is never going to work,” he mutters when you try to help and you let out an annoyed almost growl that, in other circumstances, he might find kind of cute.

“You could give me a little goddamn credit, you know!” You yell, and he stops rubbing his foot and looks up at you.

Maybe he’d been a little dramatic, it didn’t hurt as much as he’d put on, but if that happened during the performance….

“Credit for what?” He bursts out.

You put your hands on your hips and you’re wearing this barely there white croptop and a flowing skirt and (not for the first time), he notices the swell of your hip, the outline of your breast.

“For one, bringing my father to help Sunmi-”

Jimin barks out a laugh at this, his eyes returning to your face. “Takes a real saint to call daddy-”

“Second,” you continue firmly, voice raising over his, “for working three days a week for hours to try and help you and your girlfriend keep your jobs!”

He opens his mouth to correct you but your voice keeps rising, your eyes full of fury.

“And last of all but most importantly, putting up with your constant bullshit! I can’t do anything good enough for you and I really just want to punch you and leave.”

Jimin pauses, stands up straight and looks at you for a moment. As much as he hates this situation he can’t let you quit. He needs you, more importantly Sunmi needs you, and he’ll never forgive himself if he fucks things up for his best friend because he can’t control his temper.

“Do it, then.”

Your eyes widen. “Do what?”

Jimin pats the middle of his chest. “Hit me, if it’ll make you feel better.”

You look at him incredulously.

He smirks at you, makes a little come hither gesture with his hands. “C’mon, princess. You scared?”

There it is, that flash in your eyes that he’s come to know well even during such a short time, and it makes the hair on the nape of his neck stand up.

You punch him, just at his diaphragm, weakly, and he laughs.

“C’mon, Baby. You can do better than that.” 

He takes a step closer and you just keep looking at him, your canine piercing your bottom lip, still breathing hard from the rehearsal.

He can’t deny it makes his dick twitch in his sweats, the fire in your eyes, the way he can see the outline of your erect nipples through that croptop.

He leans down closer to your face. “Still wonder if I could taste that silver spoon on your tongue,” he whispers, and then you slap him across the face, hard, making him stumble back with a laugh.

He nods, and you start to gasp out apologies but he holds up a hand. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

It’s been hot all week, and there’s on and off summer showers that come from nowhere. The thunder rumbles as you reach the parking lot and Jimin’s car, a clean but beat up Mustang. 

You dance around a bit as Jimin reaches into the pocket of his sweats for his keys but he curses instead. When you look in the window, cupping your hands, you see the keys in the ignition.

You sigh and stand up to tell Jimin but he’s removing his leather jacket and wrapping it around his fist as you watch, open mouthed.

He busts the back quarter window as if he’s reading the newspaper and unlocks the door, leaning over to pop your lock before cranking it up.

You stand there for a moment, shocked and oddly aroused.

“You coming?” He asks, looking up at you from the driver’s seat, and you scramble inside.

“You’re crazy,” you mumble as he pulls off at a speed that should have scared you but instead filled you with exhilaration. 

He looks over at you, as if confused. “What?”

“I said you’re fucking crazy!” You yell, laughing, and he starts to laugh too and you’ve never heard him like that, open and loud instead of derisive and bitter and there’s rain pouring into the back window but he doesn’t care and you can’t imagine ever feeling that free.

You have that feeling again, the one you’d had standing outside the barn with him, that energy like he’s wanting and hungry all the time and just like then, you want more.

You push that out of your head, though, he’s made it clear where his thoughts lie, and that’s with Sunmi. That’s the whole reason you’re doing this, to help her, help them. It’s certainly not because you just want to be near him, because even when he’s angry at you the way you feel with him makes you feel like you never have before, not because you want to memorize the bow of his lips, the line of his jaw, how his eyes crinkle up at the corners when he smiles.

“Where are we?” You finally ask when he’s pulled off into a clearing in the woods.

“You’ll see.” He grabs your hand and tugs you behind him and your heart skips a beat.

You end up practicing at the river for hours, and you ask questions and he answers them, about his family, how he started dancing, Juilliard and why he’s doing this job.

You’re not surprised that he wants more, he’s too good for this place and you can see it, even though you’re no expert.

He talks a lot more than he ever has, tells you so much about himself and you have fun, laughing and talking with him, he’s barely teaching you anything at all.

Finally, he’s sitting on a high log, swinging his legs and looking down at you as you sit on the shore.

“We haven’t practiced the lift because it’s best to practice in the water,” he says, and that’s how you end up waist deep with his eyes on yours and his hands on your hips.

“Ready?” He asks, quietly, as if there isn’t only the woods and the river and the birds to hear him.

You nod, your mouth dry, but then his hands slip up to your waist and you’re not sure you’re ready at all. Of course he’s touched you during rehearsals, here and there, but not like this, not this close.

“Jump,” he commands, and you do, think you’d have done anything he told you, but he lifts you up effortlessly and you try not to stare down at him as your heels lift off the riverbed, try to look ahead like he’s taught you but it’s impossible and when he lifts you over his head, telling you to hold the position, you go straight into the water, coming up sputtering.

He laughs, pulls you close, and does it again, and this time it works, this time you hold it and he slowly lowers you back down.

Your body slides down his, your nipples brushing his chest, his breath on your throat, and surely this is too close, surely you won’t be doing this on stage in front of people.

“Baby,” he murmurs, close to your ear, like it’s your name, and you shake your head.

“Call me Y/n.”

He says your name and you watch how his lips shape it before you tilt your chin to kiss him, pressing your mouth to his without thought, your lips parted.

His tongue in your mouth is hot, hungry just like you knew it would be, and your arms tighten around his neck. You hear the water moving and gasp into his mouth when you feel his hand slide up your thigh, under your skirt, sliding along the river water soaked crotch of your panties.

“Jimin,” you moan into his mouth, and he just kisses you harder, presses his hand harder against your cunt and you want more more more.

You’d imagined it, late at night, sore and exhausted from rehearsing and you could feel his hand on your hip as he’d turned you, slid your hands down your body imagining they were his, but this is so different, so much better than you’d ever dared to dream.

Suddenly, he pulls away from you, and you whine. 

“We should...we should get back,” he says, voice slightly hoarse, and he wades back to shore while you’re left wanting and aching.

would you be my girl?

You’re quiet in the car, your head spinning, and he doesn’t say a single word until he pulls back up.

“Want me to walk you back to the resort?” He asks quietly as he turns off the car.

You blink at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He doesn’t  look at you, his eyes down in his lap, and you open the door and slam it when you get out.

Jimin knows he should stay put. He should stay put for so many reasons. It’s too much drama, you’re a guest of the resort, you’re a little rich girl with daddy’s money, you deserve better.

But he sees your shoulders shaking and he can’t help himself from getting out, rubbing your shoulders as he leads you inside. You’re shivering now, it’s after sundown and you’re soaking wet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your shoulder. “I’ll get you some tea and some warm clothes.”

He turns to go and heat the kettle but you grab his wrist, tug him back.

“Nobody makes me feel the way you do,” you say in a quiet and shaking voice. “Even when we argue I-”

“Baby. Y/n. Don’t,” he pleads. He feels like he’s right on the edge of something, like he’d fall over with just a single push from you.

All these things are flashing through his head, moments where he’d let himself notice how he felt when you’d do this little growl in frustration when you missed a step, the way your mouth turned down at the corners when you were focused, how you set your jaw when he said something to make you angry. After just a few weeks he’s all but memorized the lines of your body and he’d blamed it on being focused on the performance but he knows somewhere that it’s something else, that you mean something else to him.

“Why?” You ask, sounding almost pained and he can’t stop looking into your eyes and he can’t speak either so he kisses you first this time, one hand at the nape of your neck to pull you close.

We aren’t from the same world, he should say. It won’t work and I’ll break your heart or you’ll break mine and I don’t know if I can take it.

He should say so many things but instead he says nothing at all, just kisses you and kisses you until you jump just like you did in the water, wrap your legs around his waist this time instead and he carries you to his bed, peels off your soaked clothes while you keep kissing him in between, his mouth, his throat, his chin, and it makes him laugh.

You’re bare beneath him and he doesn’t even realize that he still has his wet clothes on until he slides over you to kiss you again and you hiss.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and smiles at you and you blink, have this expression he can’t quite pinpoint. “I’m usually better at this,” he finishes after pulling off his tshirt, and you open your thighs with this slow smile.

“We’ve got time.”

His breath hitches in his throat because that’s probably not true, after tonight you’ll probably avert your eyes when he looks at you in public, come to him late at night like all the others.

Instead of saying that, he curses under his breath and looks down at you, slips his fingers through your slick, sliding two fingers inside you as you arch your back.

You’re so wet already and he’s barely touched you and it makes him groan.

“Look at you. Such a pretty baby,” he praises, moving his fingers because he loves the way your face goes slack, your mouth parted as you writhe against his hand.

“God,” you whimper, voice a little slurred. “Please.”

Jimin feels like he might burst before he even gets out of his sweats, wants to make you come before he does but you lock your legs around his waist, surprising him and he falls forward, catching himself on his palms.

Before he can catch his bearings you drag your tongue along his throat and he groans.

“Baby, you’re full of surprises.”

You smile against his mouth and push down his sweats with your feet and it makes him laugh again, he’s found himself biting back smiles so often with you that it feels good to let it out.

Then his cock is sliding against you and you’re so hot and wet that he bites down on your lip. You cry out softly and rock your hips against his, panting out his name and then he can’t do anything else but slide inside you, burying his face against your throat.

He thinks, too late, that he should have flipped you over, focused on your ass and the line of you spine instead of like this, looking down into your face and the way your eyes focus on his. He knows better, but you’re rolling your hips up to meet his and biting your lip and you keep moaning his name and he can’t stop now.

Your nails rake down his back and he leans up to fuck you harder, hoping to focus on your breasts bouncing instead of how pretty you look beneath him. 

“Baby,” he breathes. “I’m gonna-” 

He doesn’t get to finish because you’re making the prettiest sounds, moving your head from side to side and your cunt clenches around him like a vice.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

It’s been fast and sloppy and he’s almost embarrassed when he comes inside you, but you lock your ankles around the small of his back and pull him down again.

After he’s made that tea he promised earlier and you’re sitting crosslegged on his twin bed, facing him, you call his name softly.

“Hmm?” He asks, distracted by how you look now, your hair mussed, skin slightly flushed.

“Does my mouth taste like silver?”

He frowns until it hits him, what he’d said to you that first night, and then he’s laughing again and tackling you to plant kisses along the side of your face.

Jimin is gone when you wake up, leaving you a note to lock up. No heart drawn there, not even his full name, just a -J at the end. You assume he must feel guilty about Sunmi, assume maybe he never meant for things to go too far and now here you are, heartbroken, and you still have to keep your promises and finish rehearsals and this dance with him.

You stay in your room at the resort for two days, until your scheduled next rehearsal with Jimin, and you feel like you’ve cried enough that when you see him, it’ll be easier.

You walk into the studio already dressed in your leotard and shorts, and he’s standing at the record player and even the set of his shoulders looks stiff, and it makes your heart ache.

You don’t speak, just start taking off your sneakers to put on the heels that you have to practice in, and it’s Jimin who says your name, softly. 

Your real name, not Baby, not sweetheart, and it seems like all the tears you’ve cried the last two days are stuck in your throat.

You take a deep breath before looking up and the words come out before you know what you’re saying.

“I know you’re going to tell me that it was a mistake. I know you’re going to tell me you love Sunmi and I understand. Let’s just not, okay? Let’s just not talk about it because I’m embarrassed and I’m sad and I feel stupid-”

Jimin sits on the floor with you, moves close and presses his forehead to yours.

“I don’t love Sunmi. I mean...I’m not in love with her.”

Your heart does a backflip. “But I’m a mistake.”

Jimin lets out a heavy sigh, shakes his head softly, looking into your eyes.

“Jimin,” you whisper, and then he kisses you and you forgot what you were going to say.

There’s two weeks until the performance and you spend all of those days irrevocably in love with Park Jimin.

“Why do you stay?” You ask him one night while you’re lying with your head on his chest after he’d bent you over the arm of the recliner in his room, rough, and you love it but you  know he’s angry because they wouldn’t let him change the choreography of the final dance, wouldn’t let him do anything but teach old ladies the foxtrot.

He’s been stroking his fingers along your spine and you wonder if that was a stupid question when he freezes just for a moment.

“It’s not like it’s easy, Baby,” he says, simply.

“It should be,” you insist, and you press a kiss between his pecs, knowing it isn’t something you can understand.

You know you’re privileged, know that your father would flip his lid if he knew you were getting  fucked by the dance instructor four nights a week and most days too, because your father didn’t think he could provide for you. You’re sure that if he found out, your father would disown you and you’d lose your tuition money and your apartment back home.

So when you and Jimin are walking back to the resort from the studio, holding hands and laughing and you catch sight of your father in a golf cart, you gasp, tug Jimin’s hand to hide behind a nearby building.

Jimin lets you lead him there, doesn’t protest, but his face is like stone when your father passes and you can relax.

“Jimin-” you start.

“Tell me again how it should be easy, Baby,” he says, his voice like ice, and when you try to take his hand he pulls away. 

You make up, eventually, it only takes a day before Jimin gives in to your apologies, the kisses you plant along his shoulders while he’s trying to stretch before practice, but in the end, he’s right.

It’s not easy at all.

just a fool to believe

Jimin knew this thing with you wouldn’t last forever. In fact, he’d been preparing for the performance to be the last night, the last time he’d see you look at him like that. He starts to dread it, starts to stay awake later at night to watch you sleep so that he’d have more memories of your face pressed against his pillow.

He’s always known you’ll leave him, whether it’s in the middle of the night because you realize you can’t let your father find out, after the performance when you’ve done what you’ve said you would, or at the end of the summer, when you’d return home to your college and your friends. Hell, maybe even a boyfriend. He tried not to entertain that, it made his throat feel tight to wonder if you have some Ivy League jerk with a letter jacket waiting for you, but it’s crossed his mind.

He knows he’s not good enough for you, knows that if his own bosses can’t even use his real name to introduce him he’ll never have someone like you, not long term, anyway. He’s used to being someone’s dirty little secret, with this job.

He’s always thought that you’d leave him, but in the end he has to leave you.

You’re full of nerves, counting down the days to the performance, and it’s only three days away when Sunmi comes up to you, sweating on her crutches, and your eyes widen. She’d barely left her room, knows that if the supervisors find out it’s her foot instead of an illness like your father had told them, she’ll be cut from the team.

“Sumni, what-”

“Jimin’s gone,” she bursts out.

“No. No he’s not gone,” you say confidently, but you can feel your heartbeat in your ears.

Sunmi is near tears and she nods her head sadly. “He’s gone, they fucking fired him!” Her voice breaks and you put out a hand to steady her. It feels like you’re moving underwater.

“He wouldn’t leave without...without telling me,” you say, less confident with every word.

Why wouldn’t he? Why would he come to you, a summer fling, someone he doesn’t even know that well?

Because he loves me, you think. But does he? He hasn’t said it. He hasn’t made you any promises.

“What about the performance?” You ask, feeling like you’re floating farther away from her as you speak.

“They replaced him,” she chokes out, crying openly now, and you hug her, comfort her so that you don’t break down yourself.

You find out from Bambam why, and it’s all your fault. Apparently one of Jimin’s so called students had caught you and Jimin in the studio, seen you through the window and in a bout of jealousy reported him for “cavorting with a guest.” It was against the resort’s rules, even though Bambam says all of them had done it, at least once and usually more.

It doesn’t matter. Jimin had been caught and he’d lost his job and probably his tuition and it was all your fault. You’re like a zombie the last three days, your mother asks if you’re okay and your father keeps ignoring you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You can’t care about anything. You don’t have any idea where he lives, you can’t even write to him, and you lie in bed staring at the ceiling and thinking about how he joked that your mouth must taste like the silver spoon you were born with and how it used to make you laugh.

The night of the performance, your mother demands that you go, dresses you in this stupid pink dress you’ve never liked and rolls your hair, and you’re picking at your food when they announce that the performance is about to start. You’re sitting in the corner, against the wall, hanging your head.

Tears are welling in your eyes as you hear the familiar opening bars, but then there’s a loud feedback sound as someone kills the microphone and you look up, startled.

Jimin is standing at your family’s table, wearing a white tshirt and jeans, a leather jacket, similar to the outfit you’d first seen him in, and you wonder for a moment if you’re dreaming.

Then he says your name. Your real name, not Baby, not sweetheart, and you blink up at him, shocked.

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” he says with a smirk, and takes your hand to pull you up.

this could be love

You don’t leave him after the final dance, like he’d thought, but he was right that it wasn’t easy. Nothing worth it ever was, he supposes. You run away with him, live in his tiny college dorm on his twin bed, and he still doesn’t think he deserves you. 

You still apologize for getting him fired from that shitty job and he still cops an attitude and tells you that you’re spoiled sometimes but it ends in hot and hungry kisses or an impromptu dance session around his record player.

It isn’t easy but he wants it, and so do you, and he hopes that in the end, that’s all you need.

[thirsthourdemon]

i loved your 'delinquent s/o' hcs!!! could I get those, but with Hinata, Daichi, and Suga? Thank you so much!!

Headcanon with them having a delinquent!s/o (2)

Includes: Daichi, Suga and Hinata

Genre: Fluff, smut (slight)

Warning: Slight NSFW

A/N: THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING! NO ONE EVER REQUEST HERE AND IM HAPPY THAT YOU DID 😭😭😭

||Daichi

-You two? Hate each other

-He doesn’t want anything to do with you at all

-You hate his guts the moment he protected one of your targets because it was “the right thing to do” even though the guy he protected was actually one of the guys who robbed and beat your underclass men up

-You told him to apologize and he just ignored you

-Lucky for you and him, you guys aren’t in the same class

-How did you become a thing you may ask...Field trip

-During the senior’s field trip your class had an odd number and so did theirs

-You two were paired up and you even bought a small bat just in case he tried something

-Eventually night time came and...Never trust a boy and a girl in one tent that’s bit farther away than the others

-“I-It was a one night thing! D-dont Get it twisted, Sawamura!!!”

-“Look! I didn’t think that would happen too! I regre-“

-You just kissed him to shut him up and just a tiny bit of blood rushed out down to his PP

-The following days he hated to admit it but he noticed how...Soft you were...Like whenever you gave your food to your underclassmen whenever they didn’t have any

-Or how you had a flower petal on your ankles and how you’d hide it by wearing high socks

-He never noticed the way you’d smile triumphantly when you would shoo some junior’s bullies away

-You too! You never noticed how he’d laugh when he just finished scolding those two persistent juniors

-How he would help the girl’s in his class carry stuff they cant carry

-You would never have noticed how inspiring he was when he lead the volleyball team

-Both of you are just noticing shit like this and the next month ya’ll are like

-WHAT DO YOU MEAN I LIKE THEM?!

-Becoming a thing because the two of you were scolded by suga cause this is cute but painful to watch

-He would love every tattoo and piercing on your body and during the nasty he would kiss them lots

-Daichi is a very soft and domestic lover

-I can tell you without a doubt that he hates it when you come to pick him up from practice and you have scars all over you

-Is calm and collected but scolding you on how stupid it was of you to

-GO TO A NEIGHBOURING SCHOOL TO CHALLENGE THEIR LEADER TO A FIGHT BECAUSE YOU HAD TO KEEP YOUR HONOUR AS THE “The Black winged princess of Miyagi” OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT

-Shoyou thinks that title is cool though 😡

-You, noya and tanaka are the reason daichi has migraines

-He definitely convinced you to live a better life after high school though

-Slight NSFW her but...

-Daichi loves it when your tough exterior breaks in front of him and you’re reduced to a whimpering mess

-Just you begging daddy daichi to stop kissing your inner thighs and actually do something is his entertainment

||Suga

-He noticed you and shimizu seemed awfully close even if you guys were completely different

-“Hey shimizu, who’s this friend of yours?“

-“Oh hello, suga-san. This is-“ “Y/N!!!!”

-Suddenly Noya just comes rushing towards you and pounces on you

-“Noya, You know her?”

-Suga lowkey jealous that noya knows you more than him 😡

-“YEAH! This is Y/N and we hung out together cause we got suspend at the same time!”

-Suga’s thoughts: This bitch is actually proud he got suspended?

-You smelled like trouble and though there was a little voice inside of suga that told him not to get associated with an underboss of a gang...

-You simply intrigued him

-He would pat your head whenever you cried cause you were broke and discouraged you from stealing someone’s food

-My man now makes a bento for two

-HIS COOKING: DIVINE

-It wasn’t long until you guys come together and you’re whole gang even your boss tells you that you’re going soft so you were forced to let them meet suga

-You introduce suga to them and everyone there tried to intimidate him but oh jeez...

-They got scared and intimidated of him instead

-What surprises everyone in your class is that...whenever you and your boyfriend were together you seemed so...weak? Like you had rumors about that you took down half a gang with your boss with just a baseball bat

-Everyone knew how scary your aura was

-Heck! Every gang on your side of miyagi was scared of karasuno because although your boss well...

-Your gang’s boss was strong but he was a leader not a fighter. What people were scared of was the underboss...

-Imagine what their reaction is when you’re over at the court yard giggling and pouting at suga to give you a kiss

-Suga scares you when he’s mad because he can break someone without touching them

-Slight Nsfw...Hehehe

-He has you on his knee spanking you and nonchalantly degrades you by telling you how pathetic you look whimpering with pools of tears under your eyes when you were supposed to be a scary delinquent

-You earn one spanking every time you smoke 😤

-Overall wholesome

||Hinata

-You just cant hurt him, can you?

-I mean Look at the boy! He looks like sunshine and what literal happiness is!

-You thought he was an easy target but he was so kind and nice you ended up giving him your oath.

-Here’s the thing, alright? You were raised in a yakuza household and no one shows affection there so look at you now giving your oath to protect him because he was so nice that you opened up and all that

-No one can bully hinata about his height whenever you were right there or they would never be able to see the rise of morning again

-Hinata and you become a thing real quick though

-Baby boy wants to be dangerously cool too! He asks you to teach him but you tell him you cant and that it isn’t cool just dangerous

-Tobio doesn’t care if you’re there though still hits him on the end

-You and kags respect each other and have come to the understanding that your S/O is dumb

-You follow hinata around a lot and walk him home

-I know it’s supposed to be the other way around but you always reject that offer only because you dont want him dead when your family meets him 🙂

-To everyone else you were cold blooded and dangerous

-To hinata you were protective, loyal and sweet

-I headcanon that hinata’s love language is Actions and Gifts

-He and natsu give you small gifts like a cool rock they found or a cheap hair clip that has a nice a nice flower on it

-You keep these small things in a vault at your room. Whoever fucking touches them will have their fingers cut off

-So picture this...Karasuno VBC just holding hinata because they don’t trust you enough but kags is just like “Oh hey Y/N”

-Everyone right at that moment is like :0

-WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT HINATA HAS BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP FOR HALF A SEMESTER NOW?!

-They start trusting you when you actually kicked someone outside of the gym because they started talking shit about hinata

-MUST PROTECT, OKAY?!

-Hinata told you that he wont kiss you if you vaped so you stopped ever since 👏

-Sunshine boy’s favourite past time is tracing your piercing and tattoos

-AHAHAHAHA Slight Nsfw

-He blushes whenever he feels your tongue piercing when you kiss

-Im not saying he loves it when you’re pegging him and asking him if he’s okay but...that’s exactly what Im saying.

[hecohansen31]

Can I request an angsty hemlock grove imagine? Roman tells reader his feelings but she says. "I'm sorry Roman. I'm with Peter now, I have been for a while." And jealous/upset Roman going to Peter's trailer and seeing them cuddling on the hammock or something.

(A/N): Hello there, lovely!

DO YOU WANT TO MURDER ME?

I just can’t… I can’t… Roman is like… my babe, he is my child and I also love my wolfie Peter and… THIS IS A PERSONAL ATTACK!

But on more serious matters (I would have thrown a ‘what the fuck was her name’… the blondie idiot from season two… with a threesome, thank God for threesomes) I hope you’ll like it, and as always… if you didn’t like it, please feel free to actually send me another asks, asking for it to changed!

I based a lot of the fic onto the first season of Hemlock Grove and I hope you’ll be ok with that!

WARNINGS: Angst, Mention of Broken-Heart, Rejection, Stalking, Slight Toxic Behavior,

Roman Godfrey had broken your heart when you were nothing but fifteen.

You still remembered the heartbreak of his promise about bringing you to the junior prom, just for it to be deleted as Roman canceled all the plans you had made together because of a mysterious ‘flu’ he had gotten at the last minute.

The following day you had caught him with Sylvia Pertyl in the school hallways, making out and giggling, as if you had never existed.

And this had been enough for you to understand that no matter ‘how dreamy’ he was, Roman was bad news for you.

Hence when Peter Rumancek had joined the shithole of Hemlock Grove you had seen him as something completely different from Roman and quickly, although the differences, you had grown to love the sweet werewolf, smirking gently at him whenever you could, meanwhile he would hold your hand between classes, since he sat behind you.

It was a cute romance, certainly anything better for your heart than what you could have ever had with Roman, and with the passing of time, your romance had grown into a full-blown relationship, with kisses, nights of love onto Peter’s shitty hammock and sweet words being whispered in each other’s ear.

With time you had completely forgotten about Roman, till the day he stopped you after class.

You were supposed to be meeting Peter for a date that afternoon, but you took your time with Roman.

Although he had broken your heart, he was one of the most beloved friends of yours, and he looked extremely worried enough that you asked if something was troubling his mind.

“… everything is alright, but you are right… something is troubling me… it’s about you” he mumbled, munching onto the words “…I have felt about you this way and I just can’t… hide it anymore: I fucking am in love with you, (Y/N), I know that… I haven’t always shown you that, but… shit… I have never showed it to you, but right now I have decided to do thing ardently and…”.

“I am with Peter” you hadn’t meant to sound so cold, but you couldn’t help but be surprised by Roman’s confession.

He was right: he had never shown you any feelings of that kind and this entire thing seemed like a joke gone bad by the look onto Roman’s face, fear mixed with sadness, due to the harsh realization, his fists coming up to his side, tightening their hold.

“I … I didn’t know” he mumbled, and you couldn’t help but blush, mostly because his eyes focused onto you as if he was expecting you to be joking, but sadly, you weren’t “… how long have you two…?”.

“Officially… a couple of months” you didn’t want to sound too dreamy, but you couldn’t help it, head over heels for your beloved boyfriend “… unofficially quite more, but Roman… I… am sorry…”.

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?” his voice was damnably cold and for a minute you were scared by the crazed look in Roman’s eyes.

“Because… first of all… it wasn’t any of your business and second of all, I didn’t know about your feelings: for the entire time we have known each other, you made sure to tell me I was nothing more than a friend, so please… excuse me if I didn’t think you were interested in my love life”:

You didn’t want this to end up in a bitter note, but Roman’s question was not only rather insensitive, but it was also… not expected and surprise got the best of you.

Roman clearly recognized your irritation and, although he didn’t seem to have calmed down, he breathed out, some kind of sadness being shown on his face, but nothing more.

“… well that is good, if you are happy, I am happy for you” he mumbled, and you simply smirked gently, extending a hand to his shoulder, softly gripping it in a comforting shrug.

“Thank you, I appreciate it”.

You had thought the thing would be closed, but not for Roman.

He hadn’t meant to stumble onto your relationship, mostly when the wound of that knowledge was that fresh.

But he hadn’t been able to get himself away from you, following you after ��your little talk’, as you moved to Peter’s trailer, gently hugging him once you came there, meanwhile he brought a few strands of your hair away from your face before he leaned down to lay a little kiss on your lips.

And you didn’t retract yourself, you let him kiss you, pressing his soft lips onto your softer ones, as a few of his hair tickled your face, making you giggle and break apart the kiss.

You continued on giggling as you followed Peter on top of the hammock, meanwhile he mumbled something about ‘wanting to sleep with you’, making you blush at the little innuendo, but he didn’t go further than sleeping to your side.

Peter soon was snoring, following the light traces of your hands onto his face, meanwhile you mumbled a lullaby, getting lulled by the soft movements of the hammock.

Roman wanted nothing more than to steal you away there, be the one who slept next to you, meanwhile you slept so peacefully beside him, and he was sure that had he been extremely careful, you wouldn’t have noticed the change.

He wished nothing more than to steal you away from Peter.

But he would have to wait.

Even his entire life.