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quokkaholic · 8 days ago

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Locked In🍺 h.j

Warnings: Suggestive fluff, cussing duh, alcohol consumption, kissing and touching(tehe), claustrophobia maybe. Lightly edited

Synopsis: y/n is a student by day and flirty/sassy bartender by night. On a busy night, Han comes in and matches her freak. Han referred to as sexy man before y/n knows his name. They may or may not get stuck in the fridge.

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It's going to be a rough night tonight. Even though the dive bar you work at is on the smaller, more local side, you get pretty busy on Thursday nights. Busy enough that you typically have two bartenders, but tonight your literal other half and best friend, Janie, got a call about her boyfriend having a family issue in the middle of her restocking the cooler. You know she doesn’t want to leave you high and dry, but he needed her, and you aren’t soulless. You tell her to go to him; its already 1am, so you just have 3 more hours till close. It’s not like she hasn’t covered for you on many different occasions. She gives you a tight squeeze before grabbing her stuff and jogging out the door. While you’d like to sit and relish in the feeling of being the greatest friend of all time, you now have so much more shit to do.

You’re so busy trying to catch up on dishes, you can’t check who walks in when the bell that hangs on the door rings. You shout to the front, that you’ll be right there as you grab the rag that's hanging through one of the belt loops on your jeans.

As you speed walk to the front, you see the man that just came in is not a regular; you would remember if you had seen him before. He’s fucking stunning, and if you weren’t working, it would take some serious courage to go up and talk to him. Thankfully, you’ve been working on your bartender persona.

��Hey love, what can I get you?” you say to the patron as you lean over the bar to grab some empty bottles nearby.

“Oh hi baby. I uh…” he says as he squints at the torn and marked up beer and liquor list trying to read it under the dim neon lights.

“If you say “surprise me” it’ll be a bud light” you warn as you pour some pints for the couple at the other end of the bar. Sending you a playful glance over the paper, he slowly lowers it.

“Well what do you recommend?” He raises his voice just loud enough for you to hear him as you're running around doing little tasks but not loud enough to disrupt the others.

“I go for a paloma, personally. Its fresh, and bubbly, and not too sweet, but I'm warning you, the grapefruit soda we keep is pretty sour.”

“That sounds lovely” he gives you a soft smile kinda relieved he didn’t have to make a decision.

“I gotcha”

You pour some more shots for the group at the pool tables before mixing up the sexy man’s drink and pouring it into a sugar rimmed highball glass.

“For you, my dear” you say as you hand him the finished drink. He grabs it with both hands allowing his fingers to graze yours; his touch is warm and tender and dreamy, nothing like the usual snatching of other customers. Before you walk away, you pour him a little bowl of snack mix.

“Hey y/n! Why is he getting so much attention” a crotchety old man and regular of yours shouts to you as you make your way to the back.

“Come on. If you want snacks, use your words and ask next time, asshat” biting back, as you walk right past him.

You are shuffling around clearing off tables, tabbing people out, and wiping up spills. It takes a minute before you realize sexy man has not made much progress with his drink. Going back to him, you try to figure out the cause,

“How does it taste, babe?” striking up a conversation again. He gives only an innocent and sorry look in response, you can't stop the corner of your mouth from raising to a smirk.

“I swear to god, if you say its too sour”

“I'm sorry miss y/n” he says after sucking a breath through his teeth.

“You motherfucker” insulting him between laughs.

“I tried to warn you! I can add some simple syrup to it, but I think you’d rather have a beer, it’ll be on me”

Before sexy man can reject your offer, you reach into one of the beer ice chests, but are once again heckled by the wrinkly regular.

“Why does he get special treatment, huh? I’m supposed to be your favorite”

“I don't remember saying that” responding while opening the beer (idk but i feel like if han had to pick a beer found at your average US bar it would be modelo)

“You literally told me last week!” He’s probably right, you’ll say quite a lot to get a bigger tip.

“Well..” muttering as you wipe off the bottle. You lean to sexy man close enough so that when hold your hands up, it blocks both of your faces.

“What's your name, babe?” you whisper after you place the beer in front of him and he whispers his answer back to you.

“Han, is my favorite now. He's cuter, and nicer, and I bet he tips better too.” You and Han snicker together about it for a minute before you have to get back to running the damn bar.

You keep cleaning, and serving drinks, and running tabs; its nearing 2:30am before you can stop and talk to Han again.

“Han my sweet, you want some company?”

“That would be amazing, actually”

“So, what brings you here, at this hour I might add?”

“Honestly, jet lag. I just needed to get out of the hotel room, and I’ve been living the dream ever since. And you?” such a smooth talker, and he keeps eye contact with you the whole time. Not in an intimidating way but in the way where he is genuinely engrossed in your conversation, and it makes your heart pound.

“I’m a student so working nights works best with my schedule”

“Oh, an educated woman! Sexy”

“Yeah it would be, if I could get a good job with my four year degree, but alas, I make more as a bartender than I did as a lab tech. So, here I am, grad student by day, bartender by night.”

“Sexy and driven” He mumbles against the mouth of his bottle before he tips it back to finish it off. You and Han chat consistently while you take care of the handful of other patrons. You try to get him another beer, but he declines.

“You ready for the check, HANdsome? Sorry, that wasn’t good.” Its starting to get late in the night, and your charm is starting to wear off.

“No…uhh. What time do you get off?” Han seems to be infected by your shyness.

“Oh um. We close at 4, but i won’t leave until 5 or 5:30”

“Is it cool if I just wait till then? Maybe, I could take you to breakfast? I’m just not tired at all, and I…I’m really…”

“That would be amazing actually. I’d love to. Could I get you a soda at least?”

You and Han chat and get to know each other through the last call, and it's time to kick the last customers out. The grouchy regular is of course the last one out the door.

“Why does your new favorite get to stay?”

“Because I like him more than you. I already told you he's with me! If I hear one more word about this from you, I'll never serve you again. Now get the fuck out” you shout the last part locking the door being them.

Even though you try to get him to stop, Han helps you with your closing duties, but because you were short staffed tonight and were kind of neglecting some duties to talk to Han, it takes a while. It's a little after 5 by the time you guys are getting ready to walk out the back door. You pull on your coats and grab your purse, and just as you guys are about to open the door it hits you, you didn't restock, Janie was doing that before she had to leave.

“Fuck, will you help me restock the fridge, it’ll take like 8 minutes if we work together.”

“Lead the way”

Han is handing you bottles and crushing boxes as you organize the shelves. You two make a great team and finish the task in record time, but when Han turns to exit he just stands at the door darting his eyes all over looking for a knob.

“Here, let me”

You scooch around him, and reach up to the shelf where you keep the emergency “key” that opens the door from the inside, but it's not there. You feel around and nothing. You look around on all the surfaces, and it's nowhere to be seen. While walking past the fridge door, you see it out the corner of your eye, but to your dismay, you saw it out the window of the fridge door on the counter right outside. You slowly turn back to Han.

“Heeeeey. Bad news. We’re locked in”

“What?” Han's jaw might as well be on the floor.

“Yeah so there's the key” pointing out the window. Han indirectly squishes you against the door and places his cheek on yours in order to see what you see.

“Fuck” he breathes out.

“That's what I’m saying. We’ve got options, we left our phones by the door so we can’t call for help, but we could 1) cause hundreds of dollars in damage and break out and I probably lose my job or 2), which I am leaning towards, another bartender will be here at like 7 for opening stuff and we just chill here for an hour and a half”

“Well… I guess we have plenty to keep us busy” he says gesturing to the surrounding alcohol with a smirk.

“Alcohol actually speeds up the effects of hypothermia” his playful smile drops at your words

“I'm kidding! I mean not really; that is true, but we'll be fine! Here, have a drink” you open a beer and hand it to him.

Even though you and Han have already been talking for hours, the conversion is never ending. Topics flowing seamlessly into one after another and you guys snack on the drink accoutrements like cherries and such. You have your winter coats on, so the cold is bearable, but you’ve scooted inch by inch close between his legs but facing him with your legs bent over his. You take turns back and forth spraying the whipped cream you have for some of the more elaborate shots available into eachothers mouths. He fills your mouth a bit too much and when you try to close your lips, some spills out onto your chin. Han immediately apologizes and uses his thumb to wipe it off, but his hand lingers on your cheek, and his eyes bounce between your lips and eyes.

Not a second later your lips are smashed together and he is wrapping his arms around to clasp his hand behind your back and pull you into him. His lips are soft and plump and sweet from residual cream. The kisses are slow and passionate. There's tongue but not down your throat, just gentle gliding over lips and dipping in just slightly to get a taste. Things start to heat up when he withdraws slightly to lick over the area that he had wiped, instead of stopping there he licks along your jaw and pushes your hair back to kiss over and behind your ear. Once he pulls away with his head still tilted, you have the opportunity to access his neck leaving wet kisses down to where his shoulder and neck connect. He moans softly as his hands fall down to grip your ass hard. This kiss is truly more intoxicating than any drink, and you recognize that as his noises have a warmth building in your core. You’re loving every seconds, but this is risky enough, the last thing you need if for your coworker to find you fucking a stranger in the walk in. You start to slow down a little and Han immediately follows your lead. To be silly and try to help the sexual tension dissipate you feel Han reaching towards his head and then yours. He pulls your hoods up over your heads and is holding them shut to create a kiss cave forcing the passionate kiss to halt due to your grins and giggles.

Soon the bartender arrives and thankfully the staff is pretty close and all really cool so you don't have to explain much, at least not right now. You guys grab your things, and scamper outside.

“I guess we don’t need breakfast anymore” Han chuckles to himself.

“I could go for coffee”

“Coffee? I could go for a nap! Don’t you need sleep?”

“Sleep? Baby, I have class.” His eyes widen in shock as he reaches out his hand for your phone.

“You’re insane. I have to see you again, but only after you get some rest.”

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A.n- VERY lightly inspired by the anime How I Attended an All Guys Mixer (get into it). Thank you for reading

-mo♥️

Masterlist

#han jisung x reader #han fluff #skz #stray kids #skz fanfic #skz x reader #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han skz #jisung x reader #han x reader #han fanfic #han stray kids #han fic #skz fluff

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uravitypng · 3 months ago

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𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

pairing: denki kaminari x reader, (hanta sero x reader)

word count: 6.6k

content warnings/things in part five: not a lot in this chapter! some inappropriate thoughts and daydreams, reader kind of has self esteem issues but it's mainly fuelled by the paparazzi, reader wears a bikini, petnames (babydoll, pretty girl, princess->used playfully), jealous denki, maybe jealous hanta (if you squint really really hard??), mineta (ewww), written with a chubby reader in mind/// minors do not interact (in later chapters there will be more smut and more explicit content!!)

a/n: chapter five is finally out!! sorry it took so long but it's finally out and boy is it longer than previous chapters. i really really really hope you enjoy this part, i've loved writing it! i was meant to finish it last week but i've been binging romance animes lmao.

summary: it's terrible when you're in love with your best friend. it's terrible that he's in love with someone else.

<< previous | next >> | masterlist / polls for this chapter: 1 & 2

"I can't believe our agencies are letting us go to the beach! Out of all the ways they could deal with the current situation they choose this!" You say excitedly and beam as you walk a little ahead of everyone but they can still all hear you.

"Yeah it's like that typical anime beach episode." Denki runs up over to you grinning. As denki runs up to you he trips over on the sand before catching himself, you bite you lip to stifle a laugh and process what Denki just said.

"Did you just compare what's happening to a beach episode right now Denks?"

"She's right Kaminari, this may seem like a relaxing day but we're here for a reason. If those League of Villain copycat group show up here like we suspect then we need to be ready." Todoroki 'reminds' you all and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes. You weren't referring to the mission when you said that Denki, you were just stating that beach episodes are different to real life beach trips.

A couple of heroes with you seem so suspicious, shifting their eyes around the surrounding area. Plus you don't understand the choice of bringing along Todoroki and Bakugo, they're to recognisable and well known, even if the villains did show up they wouldn't stay for long after noticing who's here too.

You have a gut feeling this mission will come up with nothing. This whole time will be a wild goose chase leading you here with zero results. You've told them just as much, 'when have I ever been wrong about this kind of stuff guys? this whole mission to the beach will be useless we should focus on other things, find out where they really are.'

It's so frustrating that they don't believe you... Well most of them... All of them to be honest but they can't voice that out loud. Everyone whose hair is currently blowing in the wind and sand beneath their feet knows you very well and trust your instincts but they can't just ignore this lead they've been given. Katsuki expects you have a second quirk that allows you foresight, he especially trusts your intuition.

Denki stretches, groaning in pleasure while you quickly turn your head away from him and try to drown out the noise.

"Well I for one think we can relax, I have it on good authority" he grins at you before continuing, "that nothing will happen today. We might as well relax. This reminds me of our extended three day weekend holiday our class went to on the last week before leaving school."

All of the UA, Class A, alumni heroes that are present reminiscence on your time together. Bittersweet feelings flood your emotions as you think about how much you miss seeing them so often, yet glad and blessed with the time you did get to share with them back when you were all teenagers.

"Or when we went to Nabu island in our first year," Ochako adds.

"I didn't like that at all. Not only did villains attack but on top of that every single hour of every day people on the island was calling into the hero centre wanting us to do something, no matter how trivial." Minata replies, his voice more apparent with age, mostly losing the lisp he had.

"That's not the reason why and you know it. Every other day you were being perverted to random girls on the island." Hanta doesn't try to hide his annoyed tone from everyone. He's never concealed his disapproval of Minata's actions and that was originally one of the first things that drew you to strike up a conversation and friendship with him.

"Can we just sit down and make snide comments in a minute?" You ask, holding onto a large cooler with both hands and a couple heavy bags slung over your shoulder.

Ochako hums in agreement and pulls the massive beach towel from under her arm and places it down.

You hear Mineta mumble, "how are you a hero?" as he sees you strain to hold the icebox and it becomes so quiet but even though it's mumbled it sounds like the loudest anyone has spoken since you got to the beach.

Your quirk isn't suited to strength, everyone knows that. Your quirk isn't like Midoriya's or Kiri's or Sato's. It doesn't mean you aren't strong though, your quirk is very strong. Struggling to hold a box full of ice cubes and cold drinks plus two bulky bags for over an hour doesn't make you weak.

He's so hypocritical... he wouldn't even be able to lift it up and get it off the ground.

You're a hero for a reason, you know how brilliant you are but hearing that bothered you and distressed you for a reason and coming from Mineta it's even stranger that it effected you, he's made plenty of jabs towards you before but the way he said it irked you, especially because he said it in front of so many other heroes.

Before you can even defend yourself and before anyone else can, Denki does. Mina was about to speak, Hanta was about to, Katsuki took a deep breath in to start yelling and making tiny explosions in the centre of his palms but Denki beat them all to it, he even beat you to it. "What the fuck does that mean?" You stand in shock and your eyes widen at how much rage is in his voice, almost hostile. You've never heard him speak like that before. It doesn't only shock you but everyone else is taken aback.

Denki was so distracted and enraged by what Mineta said he didn't even notice his own tone, all he could think about was 'how dare he say that about you.'

Mineta started stuttering a response about how it was a joke and he didn't mean it. That snapped you out of you stupor and you pull on Denki's sleeve. "Denki, what are you doing?"

His eyes snap up to look at you and his body relaxes, "I- I no one should speak to you like that 'doll," he murmurs gently but you still hear him, all of you do.

A small smile slips on your face and you grip his sleeve tighter. "Thank you Denki," you tell him sincerely. He turned bright pink and you miss it instead whipping your head round to face Minata and pointing a finger out in the air, "listen here small fry, don't speak to me like that again. Who beat you all the times in training? Oh yeah, it was me." You tell him sternly and firmly, not leaving room for any hollow argument.

Katsuki smirks when you call him 'small fry' and wonders how many other nicknames he's made that you use.

Mina claps her hands together after you said your peace and had shut Mineta up, "right, let's get this towel down so I can start sunbathing," she grins. She sees from the corner of her eye that Todoroki is about to say something again about how they need to stay completely focused so before he can say anything Mina adds on, "just kidding," mumbling "kinda" under her breath.

One second Mina's fully clothed and the next second she's only in her bikini laying face down with her face to the side pouting at you and Ochako, "can someone put sunscreen on me? I don't want to burn."

"I'll do it!" Mineta replies automatically, just when you thought he wouldn't say anything else perverted today.

"The fuck you will!" Katsuki yells and you can almost hear the threat of explosions coming from his palms. He stays silent after that and doesn't say anything else, he leers over all the girls but in silence this time.

Everyone relaxes and starts up idle chatter and it was worth it carrying all those heavy things when you finally get to open up a cold drink, refreshing you. Ochako lathers Mina's body in sunscreen claiming that she doesn't want her to burn. You pat next to you and set your eyes on Todoroki, "come sit down Todoroki, you look really shady just standing around."

His lip quirks up in a rare small smile and accepts your offer. "You're right, we're heroes, we're ready to fight and apprehend a villain at the drop of a hat."

You giggle, "that's the spirit."

Due to the sweltering heat everyone has shredded layers, apart from you and Hanta. Even Todoroki has taken off his shirt and is currently annoying Katsuki while most of the heroes are playing beach volleyball. You're boiling and you can feel a few drops of sweat running down your neck but you don't get changed- you can't.

Underneath your clothes you're wearing a bikini but you feel too self conscious to get rid of your clothes, even though your hair is sticking to your face and your skin feels tacky and kind of gross. In your head you curse out those paparazzi from the gala a couple months ago who made you feel insecure as the photos taken of everyone started circulating online.

You gaze up at Hanta, squinting as the sun hits you eyes. Noticing this, Hanta moves the parasol to the side so it covers your eyes from the light. Now in the shade, Hanta grins "better?"

You make a noise of confirmation and nod your head, "thanks Hanta."

Hanta tells you that you're welcome while he lifts up his top starting at the top of his body, near his neck, his voice muffled under the top making you giggle. Your brain catches up with the situation too late as you watch his midriff exposed and the rest of his top half soon after. You swallow your saliva and time seems to slow down as you check him out. His hero costume is skin tight so it's not hard to imagine how he looks under his clothes. It wouldn't be fair to actually compare the two of what you envisioned to reality because after seeing him topless, wow reality is that much better you'd thought.

You wish those thoughts didn't rush though your mind but alas they do, 'my subconscious didn't do Hanta enough justice in my dream.' His arms are particularly muscular, which makes sense with his quirk and you wonder how much he can lift up with all that upper arm strength. There's a large pink scar on his shoulder that you've never seen before and you speculate silently how he got it.

One minute you were admiring his physique and the next you were nearly jumping out of your own skin as Hanta takes off his shorts and you feel the need to bury your head in your hands. You see his thick thighs and you have no control as all you can hear in your head is him calling you 'pretty girl' over and over again.

You're incredibly embarrassed by thinking about your sex dream. You try to avert your gaze away from him but beforehand Hanta can feel your watching eyes on him and spins his body around making eye contact with you, grinning wide and winking. You fiddle the hem of you top, suddenly shy that you've been caught and Hanta flops down next to you, still grinning. "Like what you see princess?" He asks teasingly, emphasising 'princess.'

"O-oh, shut up," you roll your eyes at him. Hanta chuckles and reaches over to the cooler and gets himself a drink. You elbow him on the shoulder, "idiot," and burst out in a fit of laughing and Hanta joins in.

"What's with the shirt?" Hanta asks gesturing to what you're wearing.

You feign ignorance, pretending you don't know what he's talking about. "Huh?"

"You must be hot in that."

"I'm okay," you say and you hope he doesn't notice that you're lying.

"I can see sweat trickle down your forehead, don't get me wrong you're still hot, just now in every sense."

You feel a combination of scoffing at his playful flirting and wrapping your arms around yourself shy and embarrassed but Hanta doesn't let you get too in your head and grabs an unopened drink and places it on your cheek, making you yelp and interrupting your thoughts. "Any better?" He moves the can up onto your forehead. "Why don't you want to get changed pretty girl?"

You stay silent and Hanta waits for you to speak patiently. "What I'm wearing underneath exposes more than normal."

"You've worn swimming costumes and bikini sets in public before, has anything changed. Is it a bad day today?"

Your heart warms when he asks if you had a bad day. "Not a bad day as such but there's been photos of everyone circulating after the charity gala a little while ago and the dress doesn't look as good as I thought it did. Because we're in public I'm kind of wary if someone takes photos and like I said it's more revealing than other ones I have... I regret choosing this one to wear today, it's not very flattering."

"I'll be the judge of that pretty girl." he grins lazily and you huff at his behaviour. You were intending to condone his reaction after you've just been so sincere about how you're truly feeling, especially since Hanta is typically more considerate than that but you should know not to jump to conclusions because after a pause he starts speaking again.

"In all seriousness you looked beautiful that night and I saw photos of everyone all over my twitter feed the day after and it didn't change my mind about how you looked that night. If people take pictures then they take pictures, we're here on a mission," you wince at the reminder that this is a mission but he gives you a reassuring smile, "a pointless mission with your perfect intuition but a mission all the same. You shouldn't sacrifice the relief of cooling down and if your swimming costume is revealing then that's okay, Mina is practically naked," you giggle and he smiles wide. "All of us are hot so anyone who sees us should be lucky,"

There's a cross between a chuckle and a raised eyebrow as you ask him, "even Mineta?" The immediate hard reply of 'no' makes you laugh again. "Haven't you always preached body positivity and acceptance for all?" You tease.

"If he wasn't such a pervert than my answer would be different," Hanta's says simply and you don't know if he's unaware of the affect that had on you. Hanta never once treated anyone different if they didn't fit societal norms, even when other people would, he didn't. Both him and Kiri were like that, it's probably why you always respected them so much.

Hanta's words did convince you to pull off your clothes, you were boiling but you finally shed off your clothes, grimacing as the top sticks to you. Hanta's resting his face in the palm of his hand, looking at you with hooded eyes that makes you feel almost bashful. You can tell his gaze isn't one of leering so you don't mind it so much.

You're completely free of clothes now and feeling a lot better now but you're still sticky, planning to go for a swim in a bit.

"I knew it," Hanta smirks and you look at him confused. "You look beautiful in that pretty girl, pink and white suits you."

"Oh please Hanta, sweat is trickling down my back and clinging to my eyebrow and cupid's brow. I can practically taste it," you disagree with him.

Hanta chuckles deeply, "you're still beautiful."

You tut and grab the sun-lotion from one of the bags, wanting to hide your face for a second. "Who first?" You grin at each other.

"Whoever you want."

"Okay, turn around to face me." He does what he's told, beforehand downing the rest of his drink and sitting so close that your knees are nearly touching his back as you sit on your heels. Opening the cap and squirting some in your hand, you begin to place you hands on his back. Hanta jumps slightly and you ask if he's okay, he responds that he is but it was colder than he expected, you apologise but laugh louder than the apology you give at that answer.

You rub your hands over him, making sure you don't miss any spots not wanting him to burn and have to take a deep breath as you feel his defined shoulder muscles under your palms. You lift his hair up slightly that's covering his neck and make sure it's covering his neck too. Half of you is thinking about how you're very physically close to Hanta and you've never done anything like this before but a louder voice is disagreeing, you both are very touchy-feely, you fall asleep on him and spar together all the time and when watching films in groups you'll share blankets, so is this really different?

'He's kissed me too, so this isn't a big deal...'

You don't pay much mind when you start to press your hand over the places that he can reach. You don't think as you rub cream on his arms and get up and face him, sitting back down as you make eye contact and give him a small smile. He doesn't say anything and neither do you. You put sunscreen on his chest and marvel about how built he feels, you carefully pick up his arms and make certain you cover every inch of him. You squeeze more sunscreen on your hands and close the lid before gently swiping along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. You see the genuine smile that adorns his face and that snaps you out of your stupor, you momentarily stop putting the lotion on him, freezing, before starting again, although this time a bit more bashfully and not being able to make eye contact with him, instead just looking at the rest of his face.

"Think I'm nearly covered. Next it's you, yeah?" He says softly and you hum confirmation.

At the same time Denki's breathing deeply, trying to catch his breath after overdoing it while playing volleyball and he lets everyone know he's going back to get a drink and he's missing the next match out. He runs up, not noticing until he got close how your hands are running along Sero's body and how you're too close for comfort, it's looks far too intimate, too sensual. Denki clenches his teeth so hard it's a wonder they don't shatter.

"What's this?" Denki asked you both, forcing a smile on his face. You're surprised by his sudden appearance and feel almost guilty, you're really not sure why though.

Kaminari chooses to ignore the exasperated sigh that comes from Sero and gazes at you. You take your hands off Hanta and place them in your lap, "helping each other with putting on sunscreen. Have you already put yours on?"

"Uh. Yeah?"

You scrunch up your face not believing that and give him a pointed look, crossing your arms and it gives both Denki and Hanta everything in them to not look down as you unknowingly push your breasts up higher as you cross your arms. "I don't believe you."

"I did! Just.. Probably not the most thoroughly." He admits sheepishly and you cross your arms.

"Hey Sero, come join our team! We're a player down," Mina hollers to him, not asking you, knowing that you wouldn't want to play. Hanta goes slightly rigid at the request, he doesn't want to leave, he's supposed to put sunscreen on you in a minute and being around you one on one was wonderful, your soft touch on his cheeks and how you delicately moved his hair out of the way.

Little does he know you're in the same situation, although Denki's here now you don't want Hanta to go, you want him to jokingly make more flirty comments and call you pretty girl again. Even though you know he isn't serious about it and even though you know he does it with everyone it still makes you feel good.

Denki sits down very close to you and has a drink before saying, "You should go Sero, a lot of them won't let it go about an unbalanced team. They'll either have won unfairly with an extra player or lost unfairly because they were a player down."

Hanta sighs again before sitting up, "yeah you're right, I don't think I can handle another repeat of similar situation with Bakugou beating Todoroki at the sports festival." You chuckle and he leaves.

You want to ask Denki if he likes your swimming costume but you can't get the words out so instead you ask him, "Hanta was going to put sun-lotion on me but he left, can you do it instead? Just my back and stuff," you ask him. "The places I can't reach," you clarify. You really don't want to get burnt and hopefully if Denki's only touching quickly from behind you won't get too flustered and if you slightly do he won't see. You're definitely not strangers to physical affection with Denki but you are strangers when it involves so little clothes.

"I... uh-"

You interrupt him, taking his pause and lack of answer as reluctance and you don't want to force him to do something he doesn't want to do. You try and ignore the voice in your head that's asking a million questions about why, what's so bad about it. "Don't worry about it Denks I'll just put my top back on," picking up your top and turning it the right way round. 'Ah it was really nice to cool down for awhile.'

Denki grabs onto your top before you can put it back on. "No!" He rushes out and lets go of your top. Levelling his voice back to normal he says, "no, don't do that, you'll get too hot. Let me just move behind you." You give a tiny nod and hum. "Can you pass me the bottle babydoll?"

"Oh yeah," you open your hand and lay the sunscreen bottle in it so he can take it, his fingertips brush against your palm as he takes the bottle from you and you feel him shuffle behind you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah! All good!" He hopes you don't hear the strain in his voice as he tries to sound okay and squeezes some cream out. "Okay it's going to be cold now," he warns you, "although it might just be refreshing," he adds. He talks so close to you, you can feel his breath on your shoulder blade and for a second there you thought he was going to kiss it by the way he lingered after he spoke but he pulled away and you told yourself about how ridiculous that idea was.

Denki pulls back and repeats that he's going to start now. He's right when he's said it would be cold but also when he said it would be refreshing. However you underestimated thinking Denki touching you wouldn't impact you. What you didn't realise is Denki was doing worse of than you were and you don't hear his swallowing over your own thoughts. Your soft body melds in between his nervous fingers as he makes gentle large circular motions on your skin.

You fight back a shiver as he touches your sides and goes all the way up to your shoulders. "Do you want to lay down?"

"Huh?!" You say a little louder than necessary. Denki is taking so much care with you, more than you thought and it's making you try to force down all the butterflies that are trying to flutter in your stomach. With every minute that passes with his gentle touch, the more heat rises to your cheeks and the more bashful you become. You don't know if you'll be able to handle much more of this.

"You asked me to help you with the places you can't reach." He reminds you and you wince. You didn't ask Hanta to lay down but now the man you love is asking you to and that means he'll be touching you more. Half of you is almost happy about this but the other half is thinking back to how Denki was silent when first asked and why was he silent, it would of been so much easier if Hanta didn't have to leave but you do what he says and lie down on your front, your head turned to the side watching everyone play volleyball in the distance.

You jump as Denki touches you again, still with care. You start to ball up your fists and your cheeks get hotter and hotter, especially when he touches your thighs. You were about to break the silence between you both when he touches your plush thighs but he quickly moves on, quicker than when he's touching other parts of your body.

Simultaneously Denki sucks in teeth and squeezes his eyes shut when he touches your thighs, he almost regrets asking you to lie down. He doesn't stay on your thighs long and goes over to your hips, you feel like his hand itches a bit to close to the string of your bikini bottoms but you dismiss it as he quickly moves his hand away again.

"All done," he says quietly but deeply as he retracts his hands from you.

"What?" You ask. It's not your fault you're distracted it's his, if Denki's going to hover around certain parts of your body he's to blame for any daydreams. It's not your fault if you imagine Denki lowering your bikini bottoms and untying the strings of your bikini top while he actually does place kisses on your shoulder blade, all along down your spine reaching the place he normally keeps his hand when you get too panicky and overwhelmed at events. Holding onto your hips and leaving bites and marks all over your body, letting small sparks go from his fingertips in your inner thighs making you moan-

"I said I'm all done now," you nearly squeak as you're interrupted from your daydream again and swiftly move to get up, Denki holding out his hand for you to take to help you up and turn you back round so you're facing each other again. "Do you want me to do your front?"

You shake your head rapidly and reply, "it's okay I can do it." Your eyes narrow as you see how red his cheeks are, "I know you said you didn't put sunscreen on properly but come on Denks at least put it on your face," you condemn.

"I did!" Denki rebuttals but you don't believe him for one second as you see his face and you tell him just as much.

"I don't trust you, if you've put sunscreen on your face why are you so red?"

"I must not have put it on properly, I should have had someone do it for me. Even though it's the front of my body I should have been more careful with applying." He hopes you don't call him out on his lie and his wording, you don't. After you don't he pushes a bit more, "Sero won't have the same problem because you made sure he was completely covered... I don't want you to burn."

You weigh the pros and cons and in the end the pros outweigh the cons. On one hand you'd prefer not to have anymore dirty inappropriate imagery of Denki but you don't want to get burnt, you're going on a blind date in a few days from now and you don't want them to see you with peeling skin and burning, angry, crimson hot streaks from wherever the sunscreen didn't cover.

"I'll take you up on that, if you still don't mind."

"I offered didn't I?" He smiles at you kindly and gestures for to lie on your back.

"Do I have to lie down Denki?" You ask a bit wary about any more daydreams you might have.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, it's your decision. I think it would make the most sense though."

You're not entirely sure about his logic behind that answer but you trust him and if it makes the most sense then you're sure you'll be able to survive a couple more minutes.

"Great!" Denki says a bit to enthusiastically and he's not deaf to how strange it must sound with how quick his attitude towards this situation seems to have changed.

Lying on your back you suppress the urge to cover your face with a sun hat to hide from him and from this position. The sight you're seeing takes your breath away. You're often reminded about how attractive Denki is, and at random times of the day too, like right now. His pretty golden eyes are reflecting against the sun at this angle, making you get lost in them. Denki unintentionally flexes as he reaches over you to pick something up you don't see and it's only natural that your eyes drift to his well-earned muscles from hero work, his lean body shining with sweat and his blonde hair is falling down his face. You don't even think about it before reaching up and running your hands through his hair and away from his face so you can see his whole face more clearly. A tender smile that you return appears on his face and you swear his face looks redder than before.

What he was reaching before becomes into your view and you see it's his black headband to push back his hair, he didn't think it was necessary earlier but now he's more confident in his movements and in his mind getting his hair completely out of his face so he can see you properly is the best way to go to make sure you're completely covered from the sun and he tells you just as much, although leaving out the part of him being previously not confident and being nervous about it, because you would ask 'why?'

He pushes his hair back with his headband and continues to rub lotion in circles on your skin, this time on the front of your body.

Denki's hand stops and even though you can't see what he's looking at you just know. "Denki?" You say quietly.

He's jolted from his thoughts at your voice and rests his whole hand gently on your rib where a faded jagged scar decorates your skin. His hand is now no longer covered in any cream after rubbing the remaining sunscreen left over in his hand and was currently just gently stroking your scar after hearing your voice.

Subconsciously he's moved his other hand to your hip and normally you would be more flustered than you are by this gesture but the way he's holding you clues you in that all he's thinking about is how you got that scar and he's holding you for comfort- his own comfort.

The first year of hero work out of UA you encountered a villain that got the better of you. You were too slow or maybe she was too fast but either way you ended up with her arm slicing into you. Realising too late that her quirk allows her to form rough, sharp, knife-like shapes in her forearms, cutting deep into your skin as the quirk then secretes poison after making contact with your blood after the slash.

You don't remember much after that just everything fading to black and waking up, lying in a hospital bed, with Denki by your side, looking like he hasn't slept in days as he tells you that Sero found you and luckily he did find you because you lost a lot of blood but more urgently the poison had entered your blood stream and destroying your body from the inside, luckily you were treated when you did.

That wasn't the only time getting injured while working but it's the one that seemed to scare Denki the most, from your point of view that's what it looked like at least. You surmised a long time ago that that incident was more serious than everyone told you.

"Denki, I'm okay now." You assure him softly.

"Yeah," he says so quietly that it's almost silent.

Trying to cheer him up but also sharing your honest feelings about the matter you admit to him, "plus I think it's kind of cool y'know? It's almost like we're matching now. It reminds me of a lightning bolt."

Denki's eyes snap up to look at you, and squeezes your hip subtly for a second before letting go. His mouth opens and it looks like he's about to say something before closing it.

"You're right babydoll," he doesn't say anything for a second before adding, "I promise you won't get hurt like that again," he tapers off at the end and it becomes more of a mutter.

You giggle because how's he going to do that? You're a hero, just like him and his protectiveness of you makes you giggly and giddy because what is he going to do, wrap you up in bubble wrap?

Denki brightens up as he hears you laugh and smirks, uncapping the lid of bottle again and finishing the rest of his assigned role. He surprises even himself as he lifts up the strap of your bikini top a bit to put sunscreen under it, he's not sure what he'll say if you question it but you're too busy biting the inside of your cheek because 'that was intimate, he was basically undressing me'. You know that's not entirely accurate but he was still moving your clothes, and your bikini top no less!

Luckily for your own sanity the only other noteworthy thing that happened was when Denki applied the cream to your neck unlike how he's been doing the whole time beforehand. Instead of making circular motions he was wrapping his hand around your whole neck all at once and rubbing it in all in one go. You can only imagine how rapid your pulse was beating and it's astonishing that Denki didn't say anything. You think at that moment you exploded and couldn't help but wonder about how his hands seemed very confident and comfortable around someone's neck...

Lifting yourself up, Denki stands at the same time and holds out his hand for you to hold onto, "wanna go swimming?"

"I'd love to," while taking his hand you answer.

As soon as you stand up the voices from your friends get closer and you watch as they make their way over to you. You hear Mina exclaim, "Ahh, I love your bikini! It really suits you. Where did you get it from?" You heart warms when you hear the compliment, knowing that not just Hanta likes it but Mina does too.

Even though you haven't been playing volleyball like some of the others you're still equally hungry having been sweating all day and only having a light breakfast so your plans to go swimming gets delayed as everyone sits down and gets ready to eat lunch. Bakugou starts laying out food prepared by him, not trusting some random person at his agency to do it or anyone else going on the mission, people like Todoroki are notoriously bad when it comes to anything involving or similar to cooking. Denki grabs a couple of sandwiches for the both of you, and you can't help but scrunch up your nose at his choice, having a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich is completely normal but the amount of mayonnaise he adds to it is not. He's kind enough to grab your favourite though so you don't verbalise your slight disgust (this time at least) and happily eat lunch with everyone else, listening as Katsuki brags about how he scored the most in the volleyball.

After finishing your sandwiches Denki picks up a watermelon slice from the platter and holds it near your mouth, "say ahhh" you automatically open your mouth humming 'ahhh' not even thinking about it. Denki feeds you the watermelon as you take a bite of it.

"Want to go swimming now?"

"Sure."

" 'Kay." Denki then speaks louder so everyone else can hear him, "we're gonna go swimming."

Then a swarm of replies of people saying 'okay' and Kiri saying, "see you in a bit, i'm going to go swimming after finishing up eating".

Taking the already inflated doughnut with you, you leave and get to the sea line, yelping as the cold water moves and touches your legs. Denki chuckles and you scowl at him. He sprints into the water and sighs as it cools him down, gingerly you walk into the water, reaching him and a cross between a sigh and a shiver escapes you.

Denki takes the doughnut ring from your grasp and places it over your head onto your waist, pulling the side, with you in it, further into the water while you float along with him, you halfheartedly complain but he grins at you while you pout.

"Cooler now than you were earlier in the day 'doll?"

"Yeah," you smile softly.

"I'm glad," Denki replies back.

As you get farther from the tide Denki stops and spins the float that's holding you around a couple times, before stopping and holding the inflatable with his two hands on either side and grins as you. "Remember when we were like fifteenth and we went to the beach together, you ended up burying me in sand, I still have nightmares about it," Denki says solemnly, jokingly.

You giggle uncontrollable at the memory remembering it like yesterday. "It's your fault, I mean who falls asleep while eating an ice cream at the beach. It was only natural for me to lay you down and bury you. Plus, it was payback!"

"Payback for what may I ask?" He knows what you'll say.

You gasp in fake horror of him forgetting, "you knocked down my sandcastle when we were little! We went to the beach together for the summer, both of our families, and I begged you to make a sandcastle with me but you didn't want to, you ran off and made a new friend for the day and while you were running back from the sea with him you ran into my sandcastle and knocked it over! It was traumatic!"

"I don't remember that, are you sure?" Denki smirks and you slash him. He starts spinning you around again, this time rapidly and continuously, you squeal and get dizzy. You try and splash him more as you both laugh. He halts spinning you and you make eye contact, "please forgive six year old me, it's not like he brought you a coke and an ice cream and let you decide what film to watch that night when you stayed at mine to make up for it or anything." He teases you with a grin and you think about how you'd like to stay in this moment forever, this perfect moment, his arms brushing against your body as he holds onto the float, the grinning and laughter you share, the memories and the now, just the two of you.

You're thankful you were right about the mission.

tag list: @st4r-girl-official @xnorthstar3x @cherribxio @stabbygabyy @boreaswrites @skylardarling (i don't remember if you wanted me to tag you, sorry but you sent me an ask about i talk too much so i thought i'd tag you) @kelly-fushiguro345 ♡♡

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qu1cks1lversb1tch · 2 months ago

Note

I love ur works so i just HADDDD to request!!!! Ik its impossible for sinners to even have children buuttt,,,, Vox w his bio toddler daughter hcs??👀👀 Hope its not weird or anything, i js find it soo cutee. Would love a sprinkle of angst too!!

A/N — Your honor, I love this ask. I've been imagining so many characters as girl dads lately, and Vox was certainly one of them. I feel like it's moreso implied angst at one point than actual angst — however, I hope you like these! I may come back in and add more if I think of more, but this is all I could think of with my tired brain lol.

Little Sunshine

Wildly protective, without a doubt.

If his daughter taped a paper tiara to his screen, he's wearing it all day (he sometimes forgets it's there — you know how many times he's worn a poorly colored paper tiara on live television? . . Often.)

He loves that she looks like her mother, but already thinks just like him.

Vox only dresses his little girl in the best, which is usually something Velvette made just for her.

He pretends to be upset when he finds her running around the penthouse with his stolen overcoat draped over her with the sleeves and coat tails dragging on the floor.

He really finds it adorable.

There's a hefty amount of people he doesn't trust to be in a room with his daughter. It's Hell, he doesn't really trust anyone.

Especially not with enemies who have tried to force his hand by using his only weakness — his precious little girl — as leverage.

All parties involved were promptly handled by a very angry, very protective father.

He insists on her being nearby all the time, needing to hear his daughter's giggles or see her sitting on the floor playing with a stuffed shark.

Speaking of sharks. He let her name his second shark, so now he has Vark and Spark (his name is really Sparkles, but he calls him Spark to everyone, unless she's around, then he's Sparkles.)

Generally cute and funny moments.

"Come on, sweetheart. . . Put the flour in the bowl." Then she flicked her wrist and sent half a cup of flour into his face.

She stood there for a few seconds and then turned to look at her dad, bursting into a fit of contagious giggles at the sight of him standing there, dumbfounded, with flour coating his front. "Oopsies."

He can't stay mad at her for anything, especially when she looks up at him with those big, pretty eyes and grabby hands.

She has his temper, so he sometimes finds himself standing toe to toe with this strong willed, opinionated toddler.

Anything she wants, she gets. It doesn't matter how big or small it is. Candy? He buys all her favorites. Toys? He gets all the new ones he knows she'd have interest in.

Just because he spoils her, doesn't mean she's undisciplined.

When she does something particularly bad, her punishment is spending a couple hours with Velvette (which isn't much of a punishment because mini Vox loves her auntie Vel).

He tries not to laugh when she argues with Valentino or makes some blunt comment that has the moth overlord on the edge of losing his shit.

The only think keeping Valentino from saying something he shouldn't, was the fact that Vox would end him if he even made so much as a single tear run down her cheek.

He reads her bedtime stories and stays with her until she falls asleep.

Sometimes he even dozes off next to her, her little head resting in the crook of his neck.

Stickers. Glitter. Gemstones. So. Much. Glitter. He purposely buys stuff without glitter, yet the penthouse always ends up with glitter covering some surfaces (he later finds out that she found Val's body glitter).

His daughter is the light of his afterlife. Something good in a realm of absolute shit.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #x reader #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #vox imagine #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox the tv demon #vox hazbin x reader #vox headcanons #anonymous #asks #answered asks #answered anon

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magicshopaholic · 4 months ago

Text

Dinner at the Kangs’ (Yoongi x OC)

Summary: Yoongi is invited to a dinner he regrets attending, but couldn’t refuse. Every waking moment after that is spent worrying about you.

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Suspense, angst, mild fluff (but it’s angsty)

Word count: 9K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, if that

A/N: Literally zero editing has taken place. Set a few weeks after A Lack of Colour.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld

Listen to: “hold me” by hojean

yoongi masterlist | main masterlist

Tap tap tap.

Yoongi glances briefly at Miso to his side, to see her gazing out of the window. Her side profile seems calm enough, although her arms are crossed tightly across her chest. It’s a moment before he realises the tapping sounds aren’t coming from her.

She looks at him the same time he turns to face the road.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

The question seems incongruously directed; Yoongi frowns slightly and presses his fingers against the steering wheel to stop them from tapping.

“I am,” he says deliberately. “Are you?”

She shrugs in response. It’s a long way from her demeanour earlier today, including the investors’ meeting she hadn’t been invited to but had to attend anyway, including the nepo baby whispers he’s sure she’d heard but couldn’t respond to, and the surprise dinner invitation to him from her father she clearly hadn’t expected but needed to echo while in his presence.

Any friend of Miso’s is welcome in our home.

Kang Jaesung’s lips had curled very slightly around his words but his face had stayed unreadable. A couple of years ago, Yoongi would’ve automatically accepted it to be polite. A year ago, he would’ve found it mildly smug but still would’ve said yes, just to keep an investor happy.

Today, he’d hesitated, his mind immediately trying to work out why he, of all people, had been personally invited to dinner at Miso’s father’s house, while Miso stood right next to him, her eyes going momentarily wide but her face staying still with an effort. Yoongi had met her eyes but she’d looked away instantly, almost as though her father went around inviting a stranger to dinner every day.

Except he wasn’t a stranger, and Kang Jaesung knew that. The lead producer who had forced Miso into this meeting, someone who probably didn’t even know the names of the other assistant producers, had been open about why she was included. He had probably meant well, too, when he’d gushed breathlessly during his presentation, that Kang Miso has been a pillar for this project, working so hard and burning the midnight oil with her co-producer, never knowing how Yoongi’s stomach had jolted at those words and he’d faced forward - only to see Miso’s father staring right at him.

“Is it about the album?”

Yoongi is about to deny it, but he figures he may as well engage - anything but think about what’s to come.

“Er - kind of.”

Miso waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, she blinks. “Yes, you’ve really painted a picture for me,” she says dryly.

Fighting the urge to sigh, he shakes his head. “The way I’ve written it… it’s perfect. If I may say so myself,” he adds hastily, glancing away from the road momentarily. “That includes a collaboration… with this absolute jackass.”

Miso makes a sound of mild surprise. He pictures her raising her eyebrows in the way she does, which could indicate anything from sympathy to mockery.

“Why’s he a jackass?”

“He said some stuff about us - BTS - back in the day.” Yoongi takes a turn into a wide street, now officially entering the suburbs of Gangnam, home to the rich and famous. Not idol rich. Businessman rich. Chaebol rich.

“What kind of stuff?” Miso prompts him.

“Just… basically implied that some of us were sell-outs for doing the idol thing instead of sticking to hip-hop.” He winces at the memory. “I mean, he apologised publicly for it later, but…” He clicks his tongue.

“You called the guy who dissed you to work on a collab?” She lets out a low whistle. “That doesn’t sound like you, Min Suga.”

He half-chuckles. “It doesn’t?”

“No. Although, I’ve dissed you a bunch of times and it hasn’t kept you from working with me.”

“Not for lack of trying, too.” He hears her snicker at that and his smile widens a bit. “I didn’t call him. He reached out to me - or, his people reached out to mine.” He sighs deeply. “I don’t know.”

Miso is quiet for a moment. “You said he apologised, though.”

“Well, yeah, but -”

“And it’s good for your album?”

“It would be great - he’s an incredible rapper. But -”

“Then what’s the problem? It’s just work.”

Yoongi is about to argue but stops himself, sensing that he isn’t going to make much headway here. Things like baggage, band loyalty, camaraderie - while she understands them on an intellectual level, she seems too detached to actually spot them in reality.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you nervous?”

“About tonight?” Miso hesitates, then shakes her head. “There’s no point thinking about it. You never know what’s going to happen and…” She turns to him, leaning back against her side of the car. “It’s better to just be prepared for anything.”

Yoongi blinks, for this does not help him at all. But there’s a note of resignation in her tone that prevents him from pointing it out and he half-wonders if he himself is overthinking it, or if Miso has just transcended past the mad anxiety into a state of unhinged calm or something.

They don’t speak again until they reach Miso’s house - or, rather, her father’s estate. Like the last time he was here, Yoongi can’t fathom this kind of wealth - the kind that changes people, or the kind that influences things like business and politics beyond what you read in the papers.

He parks the car and they step out together, walking beside each other but with a careful distance between them all the way from the car park to the lawns sprawled in front of the house. It’s dark by now and the perfectly mown grass is damp with dew. Yoongi’s stomach churns unexpectedly; a few more steps and they will be fully visible in the glow of the lights along the garden.

“Miso.”

She takes a couple of more steps before stopping, turning around when she realises he isn’t next to her. “What?”

He stares at her and holds up his hands. “You have to give me something before we go inside. What to expect, what to say - I mean, I have no idea what’s going to happen in there,” he adds, pointing towards the house.

Miso frowns, her arms crossed. “Neither do I. This is quite literally the first time this has ever happened.”

But something in his expression must have told her he’s serious, for a moment later, she sighs and her face softens a bit. She clears her throat and takes a small step towards him.

“Fine. Don’t tell my mother her house looks nice,” she says. “Tell her the decor is better than every celebrity’s house you’ve ever been to.” She waits for a few seconds, presumably to let this digest. “Don’t… compliment me. But also don’t insult me,” she adds, frowning. “And don’t make it seem like we’ve worked together all that much… but also kind of let it be known that I’m probably the most valuable team member you’ve ever had.”

“How -”

“And try to act intimidated by my father,” she continues, “but not in a… like a simpering way, or he’ll lose respect for you.”

Yoongi scoffs. “I’m not trying to earn his respect.”

Miso purses her lips lightly. “Maybe. But trust me - you don’t want to lose it.”

He bites his lip, his head swimming. He wishes he could enter her mind to try and understand what the hell she’s talking about. But he never has and he doubts tonight is when it will change.

“Let’s go back to your earlier suggestion of not thinking about it,” he mutters. Miso pokes her tongue into her cheek, looking almost as though she’s suppressing a smile.

“If I were a cliche, I’d tell you to just be yourself,” she tells him as they resume walking. “But that hasn’t worked out so well for me in the past, so…”

“Worked fine on me. Well, not during the first couple of years of knowing you but, you know. After that.”

Miso snorts again, covering her hand with her mouth. “New rule: do not try to make me laugh in there.”

Inexplicably, Yoongi feels his mouth twist. They are almost at her front door now, only a few steps remaining before them. “I’ll do my best, Kang Chanel.”

“Do not call me Kang Chanel in there,” she hisses, her eyes still betraying mirth. “Min Suga,” she tacks on at the end.

Yoongi wants to joke back but at that moment, she reaches forward to push open the door. Just like the first time he’d seen it, it’s enormous, creaking cleanly on hinges. When they step inside and the door closes behind them, it’s like being enclosed in a dungeon again.

The living room is expansive - but it’s also different. He frowns, trying to recall the last time he’d been here, so long ago. Had it always been green?

“Mother took on an interior decorating project earlier this year,” mutters Miso, almost as if she can hear his thoughts. “She thought cream and green were more regal.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond immediately. Once the initial surprise dies down, the olive green and cream combination is actually not too bad, if a bit unexpected. He remembers Miso’s advice and makes a mental note to mention it to her mother.

“Where is -”

“In here.” Miso walks ahead of him, the distance between them already increasing. Yoongi follows her out of the hall and into the dining area, the entire space as big as the apartment he grew up in. The fireplace is immaculate, with electric flames dancing mildly on the base. The floors are shiny enough for him to see his reflection in, and the decor (black, white and light gold) makes him feel like he’s in a hotel. He exhales and turns to look for Miso, only to face the bar - and the bartender.

“Welcome,” says the man behind the bar. He places four glasses before him - three tumblers and one wine glass - with smooth precision. He doesn’t look up until he’s poured a whiskey into the first two glasses. “Do you drink, Yoongi?”

Yoongi starts; he realises he expected the house to be crawling with staff. A cook here, a butler there, a housekeeper, a gardener, possibly a shoe-shiner - definitely not Kang Jaesung himself standing at the bar, making his own drink.

A sound breaks through this revelation; it’s Miso clearing her throat and Yoongi realises he was asked a question.

“Uh, yes… sir.”

Kang Jaesung nods mildly but doesn’t look up, pouring a third whiskey, followed by a few drops of water in each. Yoongi doesn’t know if he’s imagining the sudden aroma of expensive whiskey. A few ice cubes clink with the bottom of each glass; Miso steps forward to pick one up and her father does the same. Just before taking a sip, he pushes the third glass an inch.

“Drink,” he says, finally meeting Yoongi’s eyes. There’s no please, no hint of a question or an offer, but something about his tone takes Yoongi off guard. It’s not a challenge, or even an order - but he doesn’t know what it is either.

After hesitating for a moment, Yoongi picks up the drink. He takes a sip to discover the smoothest whiskey he has ever tasted, and his stomach twists painfully at the thought of how much this bottle would’ve cost.

“Delicious whiskey, Father,” says Miso, standing by the dining table.

“It’s Scottish,” he replies in answer, now retrieving a bottle of Cabernet from the shelf behind him and pouring it into the remaining wine glass. He finally steps out from behind the bar just as, as if on cue, Miso’s mother appears in a spotless white sleeveless pantsuit.

“For my lady,” he murmurs, reaching her and offering her the wine. They exchange a momentary hint of a smile and clink their glasses together before drinking together.

Yoongi frowns but immediately straightens his face, instead turning to look at Miso and hoping to see his own confusion reflected in her face. But she isn’t looking confused; in fact, she isn’t even looking at him. She’s walking towards the expansive kitchen and scanning the food neatly laid out - trays of sushi, the choicest cuts of lamb, devilled eggs and salmon. It seems like an awful lot for only four people, but before he can dwell on it, he hears his name.

“Yoongi.” It’s Miso’s mother this time. “How lovely to see you again.”

For some reason, my mother’s got it in her head that I’m her competition. Yoongi’s mind immediately goes back to the hotel, to the restaurant opening, to the coat closet. To his horror, he can feel his cheeks heat up and he hopes to the heavens that they aren’t changing colour.

“You, too, Mrs Kang.”

He bows, a little belatedly, but finds she has simply brushed past him and into the dining area. “Your - your house is beautiful. Much more than some of the other houses I’ve been to in Gangnam,” he adds quickly.

Kang Sera says nothing but a moment later she raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement, looking somewhat satisfied. “Thank you. It’s changed a lot since you were last here.”

Yoongi is sure he spots Miso’s eyes widening for a fraction of a second but before he can react, she’s smoothly changed the subject.

“The new drapes are lovely, too, Mother. They are imported, you know?” she says. “From Italy.”

It takes him a moment to realise he’s expected to respond. Meeting her eyes briefly, he nods. “They’re… wonderful.”

There’s a brief silence during which Kang Sera, looking almost bored, takes a seat at one end of the table. Her husband follows suit and sits at the other end after which, finally, Miso pulls out a chair along one of the sides.

“You should offer a seat to our guest first, Miso.” Kang Jaesung speaks, sounding like he’s chiding her for not doing her homework on time. “Yoongi. I apologise for my daughter.”

“Oh, no, that’s - that’s quite alright,” he replies hastily, not quite sure why he’s stuttering. He pulls up a chair as well, directly opposite Miso, who’s pursing her lips with her eyes on her glass.

Kang Jaesung makes a motion and as if out of nowhere, two men appear from somewhere near the kitchen and pick up the trays of food, beginning to silently serve them.

“So, Yoongi. I hear you’ve been working for Big Hit for a few years now.”

It’s not a question. Yoongi isn’t immediately sure how to respond, especially since no one has ever referred to him as “working” for Big Hit before.

“I - yes. Eight years. Eleven, if you count training.”

“Training?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised, sounding barely interested.

“Yes. All idols need to train before they can debut. Before they can begin releasing music,” he adds, as if to clarify. But then the next second he cringes inwardly, wondering if that comes across as patronising.

“Idol? So… do you dance and sing and all that?” There’s a hint of a smile on his face, teetering between confusion and amusement.

He instinctively bristles, becoming instantly defensive. But Yoongi gets a distinct feeling that the question is meant to unsettle him, and he nods.

“That’s right. Sir. I also work as a producer for the company, though.”

Kang Jaesung observes him for a moment, then raises his eyebrows and nods, sitting back in his chair, spine straight. “That’s quite impressive. Two jobs, two roles. Two ways to make the company dependent on you,” he adds, his smile widening slightly, as though sharing a private joke. “Impressive.”

It occurs to Yoongi only now that as such a big stakeholder of Big Hit, it seems unlikely that he would not know about Yoongi’s participation in the group. But the thought seems benign; instinctively, Yoongi smiles back, albeit a little uncomfortably.

“Do you think it’s impressive, Miso?”

Yoongi’s heart jerks a little, but Miso doesn’t even flinch. “It is,” she answers, before looking at Yoongi briefly. “Congratulations.”

Their kiss in the coat closet might as well have been a figment of Yoongi’s imagination for all the distance she’s displaying right now. He tells himself it’s a part she’s playing (too well, possibly) but for now, he finds himself wishing she would at least meet his eyes for longer than a second.

“I suppose it’s a good thing you and Miso are working together,” he continues, as the last of the food is finally served and the waiters shuffle away just as quietly as they’d appeared. “I didn’t think much of it in the beginning but it might be worth it for the experience. And the role models.”

Yoongi can’t tell if he’s being made fun of. There’s that twinkle in Kang Jaesung’s eye again, like he’s bringing Yoongi in on a joke, but a bigger part of his brain is focused on Miso. Surely - surely - this must be making Kang Miso’s blood boil?

Miso takes a sip of her whiskey and looks at her father, tilting her head slightly. “I told you there was an upside, Father,” she says, almost teasingly.

Kang Jaesung nods and smiles, raising his glass slightly. “I concede to you there.”

From across the table, Miso’s mother chuckles. “You may have done the impossible, Miso. Your father doesn’t admit defeat so easily.”

They all laugh lightly and begin tucking into their plates, while Yoongi watches in horrid fascination. It’s as though he’s watching a play - a terribly written play with rubbish storytelling, with actors simply reading off a script.

As the dinner progresses, the same line of delicate conversation continues. Kang Jaesung asks a question whose answer seems elusive as ever, Yoongi uneasily provides one anyway, he responds with a statement that could be taken in ten different ways, while his wife and daughter interject occasionally.

Try as he might, Yoongi can’t understand Kang Jaesung. Until today, he had pigeonholed the business magnate as a narcissistic, sociopathic capitalist who struck a mysterious fear in Miso. Yoongi hated his very existence on principle - which is why he cannot fathom how he is not only sitting next to Kang Jaesung and eating his food and drinking his booze, but he is actually trying.

It’s hard to admit but somewhere through dinner, Yoongi realises he’s genuinely intimidated by Kang Jaesung. It’s not hostile in nature, but the mild smiles and the sparing, passive aggressive compliments make Yoongi want to correct him - to actively appear better in front of him.

The Kangs continue to put on this charade of a well-natured, riffing family which would be amusing if it weren’t so obviously untrue. He wonders how and why Miso is participating, until it occurs to him that this little production isn’t being put on for his benefit. No, it seems far too rehearsed, almost as if it’s been going on for years.

He also realises a little while later, when there’s a momentary pause after a joke that he’s suddenly sure has broken this facade (but results in a borderline haunting chuckle from Kang Jaesung), that the only reason it seems so fake to him is because he knows it’s fake. Everything Miso has told him, however grudgingly, about her family has been with disdain and resignation and he is suddenly sure he is the first and only person she has ever confided in.

Yoongi tries to meet Miso’s eyes, but it seems hopeless now. She’s acting like he’s just a colleague. Even worse, she’s channelling the Miso he met and resented instantly over a year ago, ignoring the waiters who serve her and seeming more in tune with her horrible wealthy parents than ever.

It isn’t until the dinner is coming to an end, the last course of smoked lamb and caviar (Caviar? On a Wednesday night?) being cleared away that Yoongi gets any indication at all that he isn’t stuck in the most mediocre nightmare he’s ever had.

Miso has just nonchalantly laughed off a rather backhanded comment by her mother regarding her relationship status. Yoongi, for a plethora of reasons, grits his teeth at this but holds his tongue, biting his lip until his phone buzzes in on the seat of the chair next to him. He’s about to ignore it until he sees Miso’s name flash across the screen.

His chest jolts; looking around and deciding that the minor transition movement of the plates being cleared away, Kang Jaesung checking his phone and Kang Sera motioning for another drink, is safe for him to swipe up the screen.

Kang Chanel [20:35] Fix your face, Min Suga.

Yoongi grits his teeth harder - but, he realises a moment later, only to keep from accidentally smiling. His eyes snap up to look at her but she’s finishing her drink, looking rather haughty and bored in her own dining room, as though she can’t wait for this night to be over.

Yoongi can relate. He is supposed to meet Jungkook to record a demo tonight, he remembers suddenly. Eleven pm was what they had agreed upon which seems doable, but also seems too far away.

“So, Yoongi,” says Kang Jaesung, as dessert starts being served. “What do you think of my daughter?”

There’s a moment where no one speaks, and Yoongi simply blinks. “Sir?”

He raises his eyebrows. “As her superior,” he clarifies slowly, “what do you think of her? Do you think she has a future in music?”

For the first time all night, Yoongi deliberately does not look in Miso’s direction. “She does,” he replies honestly. “She has shown a good understanding of the different elements of making music and… well, she’s worked on quite a few collaborations that have gone on to release.”

Kang Jaesung smiles; the same small, mild, perfunctory smile. “That’s good to hear, I suppose. Although, it’s tough,” he muses. “You see, for a man in my position, I have to be… discerning, when I hear about my own family. Miso is my heir and I have to be sure that my life’s work, my fortune… it’s in the right hands. I have no doubt she works hard but she will never truly know the desperation to make it,” he says casually, as though his heir and legacy isn’t sitting five feet away from him. “Not like you and me.”

Yoongi’s stomach twists; he feels nauseous. He doesn’t know if it’s Miso being called her father’s “heir”, or Kang Jaesung’s familiarity in lumping himself and Yoongi together, or the fact that a part deep down inside him, the part that once thought very less of Kang Chanel for the exact same reasons, almost agrees.

He doesn’t want to dwell on how much Kang Jaesung might know of his own struggles; whether he is simply guessing or he’s had a PI tailing him. But it’s dawning on him that accepting this invitation was a huge mistake, on every level. He can’t imagine looking Miso in the eye right now. Does she assume he agrees with her father?

“I suppose one can’t be held responsible for their childhood… sir,” he says finally, feeling both defensive yet drained. “But you can be proud of Miso’s work ethic. She is an asset to - to the team.”

Kang Jaesung nods, then frowns. “I wish I could take your word for it, Yoongi. But you are just one person in the company.”

“Yes, but I have worked with Miso the longest, on multiple songs,” he replies, trying not to sound too argumentative. “It’s been over a year and I can - I can tell you, sir… she has grown a lot. I can vouch for that.”

There’s silence again. Kang Jaesung licks his lips slowly, the hint of a smile still present, observing Yoongi as though he’s just noticed him for the first time. For a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s convinced him, but a movement in his periphery distracts him.

He turns to look at Kang Sera, who’s just placed a hand under her chin with one slender finger over her mouth, a grim sort of satisfaction on her face. Next to her, Miso is finally looking directly at him, her eyes wary.

And Yoongi realises he might have made a terrible mistake.

—

The Kangs’ living room, now that he’s actually in it, is enormous. It’s like a hotel ballroom, like an extremely luxurious prison cell where a billionaire might be forced to stay in solitary for the crime of not wasting money.

A waiter appears at Yoongi’s elbow where he’s by the floor-to-ceiling glass case, holding a silver tray with a small white coffee cup.

“It’s Arabic,” says Miso’s mother, the only person sitting, legs folded elegantly underneath her on the plush white sofa. “Handpicked coffee beans that are dried and shipped in airtight containers to our doorstep. Costs a fortune.”

Shocker. Yoongi takes a sip; it’s good, but not worthy of a soliloquy.

“It’s delicious. I’ve never had anything like it.”

She nods in satisfaction and goes back to her phone, manicured talons swiping up the screen while she sips her coffee.

“Did you drive here, Yoongi?” Kang Jaesung asks, standing at the other end of the glass case, one hand holding a cup and the other in his pocket, observing a plaque displayed inside.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you find the house alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about the guards outside? Did they give you any trouble?” He tilts his head towards Yoongi, almost jovially. “They are instructed to protect the house from outsiders after all.”

Yoongi grits his teeth again, frustrated. It’s a double-edged sword, one that cannot keep those guards from getting in trouble either way unless he gives Kang Jaesung the exact response he wants.

“They recognised Miso, sir.”

“Oh, yes, of course. You drove her here,” he feigns remembering. “I almost forgot.”

Bullshit.

“How nice of you, Yoongi.” Kang Sera looks up from across the room, her gaze flickering towards Miso by the corner of one of the armchairs, shoulders hunched and silently staring into her coffee. “You and Miso must really go far back for you to offer her a ride. Or you’re just a very good boss.” She titters.

No, you witch. Your husband took the car and the driver, and outright asked me to drive your daughter home - apparently just so he can fuck with us.

Kang Jaesung chuckles in agreement, and Yoongi wants to throw the steaming contents of his cup in the older man’s face.

“You’re a lucky girl, Miso,” her father says, glancing back at her. “But she’s always been lucky. She graduated from a university in New Zealand - a year early,” he adds. “Did you know that, Yoongi?”

“Australia,” mutters Miso, but no one save for Yoongi seems to hear her.

“Come. Take a look.” Kang Jaesung motions to Yoongi to join him and waits until he does. He points to a plaque inside, with the name of a university, followed by Class of 2012 embossed in bronze. On the left side is a space for a photo frame, with a picture of a much younger Miso in a red and white graduation gown, holding a diploma.

“Wow,” murmurs Yoongi, only for a lack of anything else to say.

Her father hums. “Two years after this, she got her business degree from Columbia - Columbia University, that’s in America - but she wanted to move back to Australia straight after.” He shakes his head. “I tried to talk her out of it but she’s really quite stubborn that way.”

Something about this anecdote just does not sound correct at all, but Yoongi knows it’s not his place to ask - not here, anyway. He makes a mental note to bring it up with Miso later, but for now, he just wants this dinner to end.

“I’m sure we have the plaque for that, too - Miso, come here and help me look.”

For a moment, it looks as though Miso might decline but then she walks over, moving straight past Yoongi who takes this opportunity to step away from Kang Jaesung’s immediate radius so he’s standing a few feet away from both father and daughter who are by the glass case.

“Over there,” she mutters, pointing to right behind the first plaque.

“Oh, of course. It’s getting blocked by this.” He opens the case and shifts a framed magazine cover with his own face on it - looking blazing and stony and worldly all at once - and brings Miso’s Columbia plaque forward.

“There we go. That’s better, isn’t it?”

Miso sips her coffee noncommittally but doesn’t answer. Yoongi gets the feeling she was expected to, however, and finds himself responding.

“Congratulations on the Time cover. Sir.”

“Thank you. I suppose achievement is genetic as well.” He smiles and looks from his daughter to his wife - the latter of whom has now put down her phone. Any remnant of phone humour has left her face as she stares at her husband, who’s looked away by now.

“They are both quite impressive, Yoongi,” she says after a moment. “In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t see it the last time you were here.”

It’s the second time she’s brought up his last visit to this house, during a time when the only feelings Yoongi could muster towards Miso were resentment, annoyance and some amount of pity. There’s no avoiding it this time, though; Kang Jaesung picks up on it immediately.

“What’s that?” He frowns, his tone sharper than it has been all evening. His eyes snap up to Yoongi. “I didn’t realise you’d been here before.”

He’s telling the truth, Yoongi realises. All evening, Kang Jaesung has been one, maybe several steps ahead of them. This time, though, he’s been caught off guard.

“Of course he has. It was at the family gathering last summer. Don’t you remember, darling? Miso brought Yoongi as her date - I was so excited until Miso told me they were simply colleagues.” She titters again, but there’s no humour there whatsoever.

Yoongi can’t accurately judge the severity of the situation, but even though she’s a few feet away, he can’t almost feel Miso stiffen.

“I see,” says Kang Jaesung, softly. “How amusing.”

“He wasn’t a date, Father,” says Miso, eyes flickering upwards but not meeting her fathers’. “I invited him as a guest, because he was my boss at the time. You had met him, too, in the studio.”

“Is that right? Well, now. It might be my mistake,” he says suddenly. “I wasn’t made aware that I was… setting something else in motion.” His lips curl around the words. “I suppose girls never grow out of keeping things from their fathers.”

There’s the same pretence of good-natured family humour, but Yoongi is not fooled this time. It’s the most tense, uncomfortable situation he can remember being in. He looks up to see Kang Jaesung watching his daughter, while Miso’s fingers tighten around her cup.

Maybe it’s completely innocuous, but something about the motion makes Yoongi’s gaze move to her hands and an image flashes in his mind, of a bluish purple mark on her wrist.

It all happens in an instant. Kang Jaesung raises his hand very slightly - he may have simply been reaching for his phone for all Yoongi knows - to his right, Miso inhales shakily, and Yoongi instinctively steps in between them. At the last second he places his empty coffee cup on the table under the glass case, attempting to be nonchalant.

But the damage is done. Kang Jaesung’s gaze bores into Yoongi, a few seconds which feel like they last several hours, until finally he takes a step back.

“I think we might call it a night here,” he suggests, taking a sip of his coffee and placing his cup right next to Yoongi’s. He picks up his phone and moves away, as though already having forgotten. “Yoongi… forgive me. I’m a busy man.”

Yoongi nods jerkily. “Of course. Thank you for the invite. The dinner was wonderful. Thank you, Mrs Kang,” he adds after a moment. He moves to leave, careful not to acknowledge Miso at all. Just as he’s almost out of the living room, his heart uncomfortably and irregularly beating, Kang Jaesung speaks again.

“Miso, please escort our guest to his car.”

“Of course.”

There’s no time for Yoongi to react. Miso walks towards him and motions for him to continue, and they exit the house together, down the stairs and across the lawn in complete silence. Yoongi is too on edge to speak, not even sure where to begin. But the mansion looms behind him, opulent and intimidating and it isn’t until they cross beyond the lights bordering the lawn and reach his car in the dark parking lot that Yoongi is finally confident enough to openly face her.

“Miso,” he says, and he is shocked to hear the worry in his voice. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what just happened but I - I swear I didn’t mean to say -”

He’s cut off almost instantly, however. Her face is shrouded in the dark of the night underneath a moonless sky, but he can still see the smile flicker across her face before she reaches forward and kisses him.

It takes Yoongi a few bewildered seconds to respond but by the time he can register it, it’s already over.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. She doesn’t look or sound happy, but the smile is still there, almost resigned. She looks like she wants to say more but gives up quickly. On some level, Yoongi is glad. He doesn’t know if either of them wants it out there, in the universe: the implications of his instincts, the reason for their being. But they can’t deny that it happened and that for a moment, someone stood between her and her father.

“I’ll see you around, Yoongi,” she says. Before he can say anything, she turns around and walks back to her house.

—

Miso doesn’t come into work the next day. Yoongi does an all-nighter at the studio, but even when he returns in the late afternoon, after a nap and scarfing down some instant ramen, she still isn’t there. He waits, fidgeting throughout the day, but she never comes. She doesn’t come the next day either, or the day after that.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to feel. Paranoid is a safe word, especially because it implies a fear of nothing in specific, which is exactly what it seems like right now. He calls her, half-heartedly, only to get her voicemail. Disappointed but not quite surprised, he asks Donghyuk.

“She called in sick a couple of days ago,” he supplies, which sounds like bullshit to Yoongi but is none of Donghyuk’s business.

Finally, after four days during which Yoongi tries hard to suppress his helplessness so he can work, Miso returns.

Yoongi is in his studio, working with a young solo artist on a track for her second studio album. They are debating a lyric in the second verse, stuck on the inflection of a particular word, when the door to his studio opens.

“Yoongi,” says Miso, in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. “Donghyuk is asking if you will be available any time today to prep for the marketing meeting tomorrow.”

It’s a full ten seconds before Yoongi is able to answer. It isn’t until she raises her eyebrows and gives him a look that he snaps out of it.

“I - yes. I will be. Uh… when?”

“I don’t know. He’s not here right now, but I can ask him when he gets back.” With that, she nods and retreats, the door swinging shut behind her.

Yoongi stays still, glued to his seat, and takes a deep breath. “Where were we?” he asks the artist next to him, barely noticing when she points out the line they were discussing. He nods and they stay on the topic, tone neutral, while Yoongi counts to a hundred and twenty in his head.

“You know what? Just give me a minute,” he says apologetically, already standing up. “I forgot something - but keep at it. I think we’re finally getting somewhere.” He gives her an encouraging thumbs up before calmly walking out of his studio. The moment the door closes behind him, he rushes to Donghyuk’s studio.

Without knocking, he throws open the door to see Miso standing at the opposite end of the studio, leaning back against the wall and typing something into her phone. She looks up the moment he enters and a smile starts to form on her face.

Yoongi exhales and strides in, and they meet halfway in a hug.

“Fucking hell, Kang Miso,” he murmurs, realising at this very moment that not only had he been worried this whole time, but he’d also missed her. “Could’ve dropped me a text or something, you know?”

She chuckles dryly, and her arms tighten around his neck for a moment before she relaxes and steps away. She looks the same as always, but a bit more subdued somehow. He can’t put his finger on it exactly; it’s something in the eyes-face-hair area but the smile she cracks is the same as always.

“Nothing nearly interesting enough to text you about,” she replies, shrugging. “I’m sure me being gone was a net positive - you probably got a lot more work done without me snarking about it.”

“Shut up, that’s not funny,” he mutters, but feels his lips twitch anyway. “Jesus, Miso, where… I mean, how…” He trails away, suddenly with no idea what to ask. A sudden memory flashes through his mind and he grabs her hand, pushing her sleeve up to reveal her pale, slender wrist.

Yoongi blinks at it for a few seconds before slowly meeting her eyes, part relieved and part embarrassed. Miso’s head is tilted slightly, as though she knows where his mind is. He’s saved from trying to speak when the studio door opens and it’s Hyeongseo, the artist he’s been working with all day.

“Hey - oh, sorry,” she says vaguely. Yoongi realises he’s still holding Miso’s hand and drops it immediately, turning away from her. “It’s just… I need to head out for a shoot soon, so…”

“Of course.” He nods and follows Hyeongseo out of the studio but stops just short of the exit to look at Miso. “We’ll, uh…”

She crosses her arms across her chest and nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” There’s a moment of awkward silence during which Yoongi’s feet won’t move. “Don’t leave,” he blurts out, managing to add a warning tone to it at the end to cover up the mortification.

Thankfully she chuckles and waves him away. “Go do some work, Min Suga.”

And Yoongi does just that. For the next hour, he pores over the rest of the song with Hyeongseo and even manages to record a rough demo for their next meeting. His mind is catching the most minute beats and sounds and pronunciations with ease and by the time they listen to the final version of the demo, he’s surprised even himself.

He doesn’t go back to Donghyuk’s studio, though, even after Hyeongseo leaves. He spends a while longer on other work, returns some emails, goes on a smoke break - anything to not be the one to try and accost Miso again, especially after that overeager Don’t leave!

At some point during the night, she drops him a text.

Kang Chanel [21:50] Donghyuk has managed to pick the absolute worst pizza place in the damn city.

It takes Yoongi a few minutes to decode the message, after which he simply decides she wants him to come over on the pretext of helping finish some sub-standard pizza. He turns out to be correct on all accounts and while he’s initially mildly disappointed to see Donghyuk there as well, it ends up being for the best, for it’s the first time since he’s ever known Miso that they have both hung out as friends, with friends, eating pizza and joking around without any sort of awkwardness or discomfort.

Despite Donghyuk’s reputation for crassness and abrasive attitude, he and Miso genuinely seem to be friends. Yoongi is uncertain how much he knows or what he thinks he’s deduced; it becomes somewhat clear when Donghyuk finally decides to head out for the night and tells them very cryptically to not to do anything he wouldn’t do. It elicits a chuckle from Miso, and Yoongi finds himself grateful on two counts as the other producer bids them goodbye.

“The pizza wasn’t nearly as bad as you made it out to be,” says Yoongi after a moment, when it’s just the two of them. They’re on a revolving chair each, about five feet away from each other.

“Clearly, since you polished off four slices,” she points out, stretching her arms and gathering her hair into a ponytail. She hitches one of her legs up on the chair, the soles of her Converse shoes slightly muddy, and sighs tiredly.

Yoongi glances down at his hands. They’re finally alone but it hits him that despite a lot of worrying, he’s had no way of preparing for this moment.

“So what have I missed?” Miso asks, as though she’s been on vacation. “Aside from that weird new security scanner they have on the floor.”

He doesn’t look up. “A sasaeng managed to break into the building. Twelve hours later, it was there.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Really? Wow, some people have a lot of time on their hands. Who was she here for? Wait - is it offensive to assume it was a girl?”

“Miso,” he says.

“Hm?”

Yoongi meets her eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” he asks softly.

“Home,” she answers, without missing a beat.

“Home?”

“Home,” she confirms. “You were there a few days ago.”

He ignores the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I remember your house,” he mutters. “So you were just… in your house, the last four days?” When she shrugs, he blinks. “Why?”

“I mean…” Miso shifts in her chair and sighs, as though the answer should be obvious. “As you could probably tell, that dinner did not go all that well. My father said he needed to decide if he could - quote unquote - trust me.” She rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue nonchalantly. “So I couldn’t go to work until he was sure.” She shrugs again.

The questions in Yoongi’s mind are endless. “So… what? He trusts you now?”

“Apparently.”

“Like, he gave you permission to come to work today?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

Yoongi sighs deeply. “Miso, come on. I’ve been worried sick about you - I thought I got you in trouble. You’ve got to give me something more here.”

For a moment, she looks like she’s about to argue, but then her eyes soften slightly. “Yoongi, there’s really nothing more to tell. I’m serious - I know what you’re thinking,” she adds when he opens his mouth to retort. “Okay? The sleeve thing was pretty obvious. But I promise you, I was mostly just in my room, getting bored, getting my meals delivered to my doorstep, and trying to read War and Peace.”

“What -”

“It’s a book.”

He stares, feeling a very familiar annoyance surfacing. “I was going to ask, What about your phone?” he clarifies slowly. “Or could you not just drop me a text to let me know you were okay?”

For the first time, Miso hesitates. “My phone… may have been taken away. It was brought to me this morning along with my breakfast, which is how I figured I was good to come in today.”

It occurs to Yoongi that he isn’t about to get any further details about her disappearance. From where he’s standing, it sounds as though she was locked in her room for four days with no means of communication until her villain of a father deemed it okay for her to be released. But Miso’s tone seems extremely incongruous to the situation, sounding almost unbothered, and it’s frustrating on multiple levels.

“You know…” He begins, then stops. This could backfire. “I hope you know that you can trust me,” he tries again. “You can tell me if… well, anything.” He waits.

She observes him for a moment. “Okay, I’ll say it,” she states abruptly. “No, I wasn’t hurt. My father doesn’t really have a taste for violence.”

Yoongi scoffs without meaning to; despite having no evidence to the contrary, he finds that hard to believe.

“I’m not saying he’s not capable of it,” she amends, “but it’s not his style.”

“Yeah? What is his style?”

“This,” she answers, surprising him. “Power. And control. Something that night made him feel like he wasn’t fully in control of the situation,” she says, and her pause indicates to Yoongi that they both know what that probably was. “So this was his way of making sure I know who’s really in charge. He’s done it before,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

What the fuck? “So…” Yoongi struggles to form a coherent sentence for a few seconds. “So what changed? What did he do in those four days that changed everything?”

“I don’t know!” Miso exclaims, half-chuckling. “Who the hell knows what goes in my father’s head? It’s pointless to try and figure it out after a point. But you shook him in a way that I haven’t seen in a while,” she admits after a moment.

He can’t deduce if this is meant to be a compliment. “I really thought I got you in trouble,” he murmurs. “I tried to keep my distance but I think I might have…” He trails off.

“Yoongi.” She shifts in her chair so she’s facing him completely. “This wasn’t your fault,” she tells him, as though it just occurred to her that this might be a possibility to him.

“But you told me, even back at that restaurant opening, that your mother would get all crazy and even before the dinner, you said -”

“Yeah, but that’s not what happened here,” she interrupts him. “Yoongi, my father knows I’ve had relationships with men. I mean, I’m almost thirty - it’s not that shocking. That is not why I asked you to keep your distance. I mean, it is, but…” She shakes her head. “Not in the way that you think.”

Yoongi runs his hand down his face. He can’t imagine growing up like this, living, constantly, in a cold war with your parents.

“Look, somehow, all the guys I’ve ever been with - and there haven’t been that many of them - have always been related to my father in a way. They were either in the same social circle or their fathers worked for my father, or they worked for my father.”

“I don’t work for your father,” he says immediately.

She frowns. “Don’t you?”

The minute detail of Kang Jaesung being a Hybe stakeholder had slipped Yoongi’s mind, and the fact suddenly makes him want to vomit.

“The only guy that had nothing to do with my father was this guy I was seeing when I lived in Australia,” she continues. “The moment they got wind of the fact that it was getting slightly serious, I was made to return to Seoul.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond. Perhaps Miso realises why, for her tone is suddenly gentler.

“But you may be the first one of them to ever make him feel threatened. And I’m not just talking about the thing at the end,” she clarifies, a hint of a smile on her lips.

It takes him a moment, but he returns it. Her kiss had lingered for hours after the fact - days, even - and Yoongi had remembered it with guilt and longing in equal measure. He wishes this were easier.

“Why don’t you leave, Miso?” he asks, noting how she stiffens. “Haven’t you even thought about it?”

It’s clear from the way she turns away from him ever so slightly that this isn’t where she expected the conversation to go.

“It’s not that easy,” she says flatly.

“Not at first, sure. But you’re twenty-nine - I mean, it’s pretty common to move out by this age,” he points out. “I’m sure you have savings. You can get an apartment - or I can help you out. But… why are you still here?”

She presses her tongue into her cheek. “It’s complicated.”

He’s about to argue, when something else stirs in his memory of that dinner. “By the way… can I ask you something?” He takes her begrudging raise of the eyebrows as a yes. “What did your father mean when he said… that you’re his heir?”

She’s silent for so long that he thinks she may not answer at all. “He meant exactly what you think he meant,” she says eventually.

“So you’re going to inherit… what? His whole company?”

“I’m a chaebol. You know what that means, right?”

He does, it’s true. Not only does he know it in theory, he knows she is one. He’s called her that, multiple times; in the early days of their tense dynamic, it felt harsher than nepo baby.

“What did you do about your collab?” she asks before he can continue on his train of thought.

“Oh -” Yoongi pauses. “Um - nothing. Yet. Still debating what to do next.”

“Still? Either this artist is epic or you’re just overthinking this, Min Suga.”

“Genius Dragon is unfortunately that good, but I’m not overthinking for no good reason. It’s -”

“Hold on - his name is Genius Dragon?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a mouthful.”

“Not to mention original.” She rolls her eyes and winces. “God, I remember this guy. I think I attended a workshop he took a million years ago.”

“Yeah?” This is surprising. “What did you think of him?”

“Kind of full of himself,” she mutters. From this, Yoongi gathers that she agrees with his assessment about the rapper’s talent. “But if he’s that good… come on, don’t tell me this is still about something he said to you a decade ago.”

“It’s not about me,” he retorts, a little defensively. “This album is personal, and this particular song is even more so. Aside from the fact that he’s from Daegu also… he struggled, too. He gets it - and I think that’s why he was harder on Namjoon and the rest of the group, because he thought they made me soft. That’s also why he’s the best choice for this song, though,” he mutters, dropping his head against the back of the chair.

“Isn’t Namjoon an artist, too? Won’t he understand that?” she points out.

“He -” Yoongi sighs. “He might. He’ll never stop me from doing this, if that’s what I want. None of them will.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

It should be obvious, but Yoongi can’t bring himself to say anything other than, “It’s complicated.”

There’s a pause during which he looks up and sees her still looking away, but the corner of her mouth lifted slightly, almost in satisfaction. Her words from a little while ago ring, and he concludes that she’s still miffed with his persistence.

“Hey.” Yoongi reaches forward towards her; hooking his hand under the seat of her chair, he pulls it towards him. It works; despite the fact that she turns to look at him like it’s a massive effort, there’s a softness that’s returned. The arms of their chairs are touching, and they’re closer than they’ve been all night.

“I shouldn’t have pried,” he admits. Miso nods before leaning forward and kissing him.

It’s the first time they’ve kissed without either of them being taken by surprise, or in secret with the fear of being found out. Yoongi hasn’t cut his hair since the last leg of his tour; a pleasant shiver runs down his spine when her fingers brush against the ends at the nape of his neck.

The last thing he wants is to rush this. In the absence of anything else in their way, the kiss is slow and exploratory, with an air of relief that Yoongi knows is not one-sided. He squeezes her knee and she gets up off her chair; without breaking the kiss, slides onto his lap, straddling him with a comfortable weight.

Yoongi wraps an arm around her waist, holding her face to his as gently as he can as her shoulder-length locks brush against his cheek. She sighs into his mouth and his heart skips a beat, but he doesn’t pull away. He can’t imagine it. She smells of something that vaguely reminds him of jasmine but still feels expensive, and he pulls her even closer.

“Min Suga,” she murmurs against his lips, “is that your phone in your front pocket?”

Yoongi freezes, realising a second later that his phone is indeed vibrating in his front pocket. “Among other things,” he mutters, regretfully pulling away slightly and fishing it out of his pocket. His heart sinks when he sees Bang PD’s name flashing on the screen.

“You need to take that,” she tells him, reading the screen upside-down. She moves her torso back and shakes her hair out of her face and off her neck. “And I… I need to get home.”

His phone is still ringing. “Do you want me to drop you home?” he asks as she climbs off his lap.

She gives him a small smile. “Thanks. But Seungkwan is here, so he can…” She doesn’t finish her sentence.

Fifth ring. Yoongi closes his eyes - he needs to take this call. He stands up and reaches the door, hesitating before opening it. There’s a lot that needs to be said and done, but nothing comes to mind. A moment later, Yoongi realises only one of them really matters.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asks, his hand on the door handle.

“Yes, you will,” she confirms, already starting to pack up the electronics. Her nonchalance is betrayed by the small smile widening a bit. “Now take that damn call, Min Suga.”

He chuckles and nods. “See you tomorrow, Kang Miso,” he says, before stepping out of the studio and answering his phone.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#yoongi x oc #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #wkcnet #hyunglinenetwork #bts suga fanfic #bts suga angst

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bowowark · 1 year ago

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I absolutely love the theory that Mike is Henry’s kid. Usually I’d be upset that they made the movie a whole other universe, different from the games, different from the books, but this universe is so captivating. If Henry is Mike’s dad, Henry and William’s families must’ve been close, but that brings up so many questions. If they were family friends, why does Mike not recognize Will at the beginning of the movie? And even more, after he knows Will’s real name and who he is, why does he still not remember? Well I have three theories.

One, the basic “trauma made me forget”. But would it be possible for Mike to COMPLETELY forget a whole person? Not just a whole person, a WHOLE family? Likely, that’s not it.

Two, Will may have changed so much from when they last met that Mike can’t recognize him. It makes sense, we can presume that Mike was the same age the last time he saw Garret AND the last time he saw Will, just a couple days or months apart, and Mike was 12. Now he’s maybe 25 or 27? That’s a pretty big gap of time for someone’s face to change, AND it would make sense that he doesn’t remember Vanessa either. If we combine it with the first theory, maybe there’s something there.

But the last theory I like the most, he knew. At least after Vanessa told him his real name. The reason I think this is because of how he never acts like he never new Will, which would make sense, why would he know a William Afton? He only met a Steve Raglan. As well with what he says after he finds out, “you knew?” Maybe that’s when he’s realizing. Realizing that Vanessa new who Mike was, along with Mike’s family, along with the whole children murder thing. That’s why Will looks shaken when he reads Mike’s last name. But what if his name was really Micheal Emily. I was always weirded out about how Mike never introduces himself with his last name, neither does Abby, neither does aunt Jane. Maybe Mike told Will that his name was Micheal Schmidt, but on the papers, it was really “Micheal Emily”.

I’m thinking maybe after Mike and Abby’s mom died, when their dad left, they became so upset with him that they chose to take their mothers name instead? Another reason I feel this way is because before Will is about to kill Mike, he says, almost sarcastically, “Farewell Micheal Schmidt.” Also, before that he mentions that the animatronics told Will about Abby, meaning he didn’t know about her, that makes sense if the last time the Emily’s saw Will, was before Abby was born. But one last theory, Vanessa has the same airplane that Garret has, maybe he used the same airplane to get Garret to get in the car, or maybe, it was a present, from the Afton’s to the Emily’s

If we add all three theories together, we get a story. Mike was Henry Emily’s kid, Henry did something to make Will angry, Will kills Garret (maybe with Vanessa’s help) along with the others. Mike’s family falls apart, at one point, Abby was born, their mom died and dad left. Feeling betrayed, Mike and Abby took their mom’s last name, but didn’t change it legally. Years later, Mike and ‘Steve’ meet, Mike being too young and too traumatized to remember Will at that point, Will finds out he’s an Emily and sends him to the pizzeria to be killed. Yada yada stuff happens, Mike finds out that the killer of his brother was the killer of other children and a close family friend, everything comes back to him. (in the scene you can almost see tears in his eyes but it might be the lighting lol) And so on and so forth

Anyway this might be a shit theory but I’m kinda proud, we’ll just have to wait for the next movie that’ll come out in 2050

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fandom #fnaf theory #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt #vanessa afton #william afton #steve raglan

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la-petite-lapin · 9 months ago

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Double the Love | Part Eight

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.1k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, excessive swearing, mentions of sexually explicit content, self doubt, OC has anxiety, poor communication, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is (once again) bad at feelings

The morning after

The next morning, John calls.

Simon and Johnny have left to get some food shopping in, allowing me some much needed time to decompress. I woke up this morning feeling... I don't know. Conflicted. Confused. Like the consequences of getting myself into this - whatever this is - are finally starting to land.

"Hey, Tali," John says softly, and I can hear voices talking in the background. A woman, not Marcella, and a man who sounds fairly pissed off. It takes me a minute to recognise that it belongs to Gaz. "How are things on your end?"

I blow out a long breath. "Everything's okay."

There's a pause. A long pause. An I-know-that's-bullshit kind of one. "Talia, come on. It's me you're talking to." When I don't immediately spill my guts, he adds, "If you won't tell me what's playing on your mind, at least talk to Winslow. Marcella, even. Or, if it's something that the boys have done, try and talk to them about it. They're far more understanding than they look."

My heart stutters in my chest. That's part of the problem. And, to add to that, I don't even know what's wrong.

In the past few days, I've gone from not wanting any sort of relationship at all, to wanting nothing more than to have both of them tell me that they want me. Not even that they love me - God knows that it's far too soon for anything that serious - but something. Any sign that last night was more meaningful to them than a couple hours of mindless fun with a brand-new toy.

But I don't know how to ask. And I don't kind I'm strong enough to handle the inevitable rejection. Not when I've grown to consider them as friends.

"I would... if there was something wrong," I grumble back. My eyes flicker around the empty apartment/ Maybe having some more company around would be a good distraction. "Can you and Kyle come over again, please?"

I can hear the smile in John's voice as he replies. "We're a little busy at the moment, but I'm sure we can sort something out for the weekend. We could watch some more of those God-awful military movies Gaz likes to rip apart."

I snort out a laugh. "Perfect."

We say our goodbyes and John hangs up, muttering something about an 'incident' that he needs to deal with. But, before I can put my phone down, I catch a glimpse of a missed call and a text message from Winslow, all while I was on the call with John.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Call me xx

I'm calling her number before I can even think about it, a sense of panic gripping my chest as I raise the phone to my ear. What if she'd been in an accident? What if she was hurt? Stuck somewhere in a foreign country with no way of me getting to her...?

"Hey, honey," Winnie says immediately, answering on the third ring. Her voice soothes my frayed nerves, so much so that I almost let out a sigh of relief. Just hearing her makes me feel lighter than I have all day.

"I'm so happy to hear your voice." It's only been a matter of days since we last spoke on the phone, but it feels like it was a lifetime ago somehow. Thank God she only has two weeks of her France trip left before she's back home again. "How's Paris?"

Winnie lets out a breathy laugh. "It's been... interesting to say the least. But it's part of the reason why I called." The cold feeling of realisation slides in as she elaborates, "It looks like I might have to stay a little while longer. Just while I help them sort some stuff out and tidy up some loose ends."

My heart seizes at the vagueness of 'a little while longer'. "Okay. How long is that looking?"

"Um... maybe an extra week."

"Oh." It's the only word I can think of.

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry, Tali," Winnie says, and I can hear the genuine sadness in her voice. "I'll be back in time for Alex's birthday though, I promise."

My gaze trails across to the calendar hanging up beside the kitchen. Just under a month. In four weeks, he would have turned thirty.

We would have thrown a big party; which would have pissed Alex off to no end. He would've grumbled about it for months, complaining that he's a private person, which is just a code word for boring, but secretly loving that I'd gone to the effort. Just like his twenty-first.

My heart aching in my chest, I say, "It's okay, Win. You've got to do what you've got to do, and I have the guys here to keep me company." There's a beat of silence, so I follow it up with, "And I'm going back to work, which I've strangely missed."

We both laugh at that.

"Anyway, how've you been?" I can hear Winnie settling in on the other end of the line. I find it more amusing than I care to admit that she's still so invested in what's going on back here while she's living it up overseas. Despite it being a work trip, I've seen her Instagram posts. She's thriving over there.

"I've been good. But there is something you might be interested to know."

Winnie giggles. "Oh? Please enlighten me."

A mischievous grin forms on my lips. "I slept with them. Both of them."

There's a long stretch of silence. It's a pause so long that, for a minute, I think the call might have dropped.

"Winnie? You still there?"

She coughs, spluttering for a second. "Still here. Just stunned into silence because... wow! You really did it? With both of them? How did that even work? What was it like? I have so many questions, Tali! You can't just drop a bomb like that than and not expect me to have questions!"

A laugh slips past my lips, dissolving into a burst of laughter. "It was something new. But it was fun. They didn't take everything all serious and alpha like some guys probably would. They made it fun, we laughed about stuff, and the aftercare was perfect."

"10 out of 10 would recommend then?"

"I would," I reply, letting myself smile. Despite all of the conflicted feelings I have about what happens now, it doesn't in any way diminish how unwaveringly happy I feel thinking about last night.

We talk a bit more - mostly about all of the interesting people Winnie has met in Paris, the new places she's seen, and all the restaurants she's tried - before she has to go. We say our goodbyes and I promise to call her in the morning on my way into the office. Not long after, I hear the sound of the spare key turning in the lock, and I look up to see Johnny nudging the front door open.

He's beaming, a broad smile on his face and two overflowing shopping bags in his hands. Simon follows him into the kitchen, carrying the other three. He nods to me on his way past, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face.

"Want to help us with the meal plan, princess?" Si calls out from the kitchen.

Huh?

I follow them through into the kitchen to find Johnny leaning over the counter with a piece of paper and a pen, as Simon dutifully unpacks the bags. Johnny takes one glance at the questioning look on my face before offering me one of his most charming smiles. "Me and Si were talking. Did'nae think it's fair for ye to be doing all the cooking, not when ye're going back to work now. And we eat most of it."

A frown forms on my lips. "I didn't complain about it."

Si turns around now. "We know, but we don't think it's right. You do a lot for us already, darlin'. Just let us do something for you."

I try not to blush as I fold my arms across my chest. "Fine. Okay."

Johnny grins. "So, what do ye want on Monday?"

After dinner, we settle in to watch TV in the living room. I fold myself into my armchair, letting Johnny and Simon cuddle up together on the sofa.

It's hard not to keep glancing over at them; even harder to hold back the un-earned feeling of jealousy that keeps nipping at my heart. They're a couple. They're allowed to act lovey-dovey in the privacy of their own home.

Home. Thinking about that makes it even worse. At some point - when all of their army drama blows over - they're going to leave.

Logically, I know that. I know that me, them, and Winnie can't all live in this two-bedroom apartment together, but it still stings. It's irrational, and I know it.

I watch as Simon runs his fingers through Johnny's hair - the Scotsman all but asleep with his head in his partner's lap - as I swallow down the growing resentment. Bitterness coats my tongue, and I swallow thickly.

Simon looks over, because of course he does, with a questioning look of concern. Mask-free, it's all too easy to see his expression now. It almost hurts to look at his face; to know just how beautiful he was.

I shake my head and close my eyes, kicking myself for being so stupid about this.

We're all grown-ups. We agreed to have sex. It was one night.

But then why does my chest burn when I think about them, like someone's trying to squeeze the life out of me?

"You alright, love?"

I nod, my eyes still firmly shut. Why did I do this to myself? Let myself have a taste of the one thing I can't have from them?

"Hey, love," Simon calls again, voice laced with something I can't place. "Open your eyes for me, yeah?"

So, I do. I open my eyes and level him with the blankest expression I can muster. "I don't feel well. I'm going to go for a walk," I say, thankfully giving no hint of my emotions. "I'll be back before midnight."

His hazel eyes harden. "Not on your own you're fucking not."

I wince, but something in my resolve strengthens. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do."

"I'm not telling you what to do," he growls. "I'm saying it's dark out, it's cold as fuck, and I'm not having you out there alone surrounded by a bunch of creeps while I sit in here like a lemon."

We stare at each other for a long, long time.

Uncharacteristically, he breaks the silence first. "Just let me put Johnny in our room and I'll come with you." He nods to the dead-weight of a completely knocked-out Johnny's cheek resting on his muscular thighs.

My temper flares. "I didn't invite you."

I can feel Simon battling his anger from here. I also get the distinct impression that if I was anybody else - other than Johnny - I'd have already received the bollocking of my lifetime for being so damned difficult right now.

"The only way you're leaving this flat tonight, princess, is if I'm with you," he grumbles, hazel eyes dark and unwavering as he pins me with a glare. A glare that tells me Ghost is back. "I'll lock you in your room to keep you safe if I fucking have to."

I match him with a fierce glare of my own. "Why do you fucking care?"

That seems to take him aback. His eyes soften, the harsh line of his mouth pulling down at the corners, making the scars around it all the more apparent. "Of course I care."

"But why?" A hollow laugh slips past my kips and I spring up from my armchair, starting to pace in front of the TV. I'm completely aware that I must look borderline hysterical as I look at him with wild eyes. "I'm just one of the many, many women you two have fucked. Why do you care if I want to go walking at night? If I cook dinner?"

Simon's frown deepens. "That's not what this is. You know that."

"Really?" I gesture wildly to Johnny, who's still blissfully unaware of what's happening. "All night you've been cuddled up, while I've just sat here and... and watched you. Do you know how much that hurts? After last night when you made me feel so fucking included? And now you're back to making me feel like an outsider." The words spill out of their own accord, frantic and rushed as I feel the tears start to roll down my cheeks. A broken-sounding laugh bubbles up from my throat. "I've spent all day telling myself I wouldn't do this because it's so fucking embarrassing. It was one night, and now you're both going to think I'm crazy."

Si stares back at me and the expression on his face is so heartbroken that it hurts. "I... we didn't know you'd see it like that."

My heart cracks in two inside my chest. The tears pour even faster as I glare down at my slipper-covered feet.

How could I be so reckless? I've just ruined everything.

"Tali, can you come here please?"

My eyes trail back to Simon. To his hand patting the tiny space on the sofa beside him - the side not occupied by Johnny, soft snores pouring out of his mouth like cats' purrs. My feet carry me across the room. I slot myself into the gap beside Simon, trying not to let any part of my body touch his. Preparing myself for whatever it's not you, it's us speech that is inevitably coming.

a/n: hey guys! hope you've enjoyed part 8 :) sorry that it ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but it was getting quite long and I try to stick around 2.5k words to make it flow better i'm aiming to have part 9 out by the end of next week, but I won't make any promises just yet <3 - much love, lapetitelapin

#cod #cod fanfic #fanfic #ghoap x reader #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #female reader #female oc #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #simon riley x reader #double the love #romance #angst

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ninja-muse · 4 months ago

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August is over! My reading month felt like it took forever even though otherwise, the month flew by. I blame this half on my top two reads of the month, which I was only reading in short snippets, and half on a number of lackluster reads and DNFs. I'm hoping to get back into my usual habits in September.

I did do better on reading off my physical TBR though! Even though one book was a "aw man, what do I read now?" and two more were, "I'm behind on my goal, quick, read something fast!" Plus the T. Kingfisher, which was graciously provided by my work, as was Running Close to the Wind. (Finally a month where I didn't spend money to add to my library!)

As for my top reads, The Salmon Shanties would be near the top of my list even if there wasn't a degree of reverse-nepotism involved. Absolutely excellent poetry collection, very layered and complex. If you're into Canadian poetry or poetry-of-place, pick it up! And Rose/House, once I got it back from the library because my Libby hold ran out, was absolutely fantastic! As was the quality of the French translation, because it sounded like Martine. So very, very glad I had the nerve (and linguistic ability) to read it. Super-creepy and I'm glad Tor's picked it up so I can hype the heck out of it next year. And then there's Jinn-Bot, which I wrote an actual review for.

On the other end of the list, sigh. I DNFed one book for feeling kind of trite, and another for being too predictable, and probably should have DNFed Voyage of the Damned for being uneven but I needed to know who the killer was. The Library Thief I'm also counting as lackluster—very good book, just wasn't for me or what I was expecting. Still deserves a 7.

Lula Dean, on the other hand, was surprisingly good! Fun and satirical and just plain entertaining. Read it in a couple days and it would likely be higher on my list except my reasons to be "glad to have read them" this month are less about quality and entertainingness than usual. I can't put "really liked this" above "finally I get to read a new book by X!", for instance. Or necessarily above "learned stuff!"

You might notice a distinct lack of any other news, and that's because there is none. September may be marginally more exciting, we'll see. (I know there'll be a bigger book haul.)

Anyway, on to September now, and in the meantime, here's my list everything I read this month, in the rough order of how glad I was to have read them.

The Salmon Shanties - Harold Rhenisch

A collection of poems centered on and celebrating Cascadia in all its facets (or taking it to task, as the case may be). Out in September.

10/10

🇨🇦

warning: mentions racism, colonization, genocide

digital reading copy

Rose/House - Arkady Martine

There is a body within Rose House—two, if you count its architect, who ordered the house shuttered with his passing and left to its AI. Only one person is allowed to enter now, and she’s accounted for. And yet there is a body within Rose House….

9/10

🏳️‍🌈 author

warning: descriptions of a dead body

library ebook

The Jinn-Bot of Shantiport - Samit Basu

Lina and Bador want freedom: from surveillance, from power structures, for their city, for all bots, or just for their family. This might come from cunning, or revolution, or a lost ancient artifact, or an underground bot-battle, or swaying a visiting space hero or the Not-Prince. Much more than an Aladdin retelling.

8/10

🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (multisexual, achillean), Indian-coded cast, Indian author

warning: discusses colonization and oppression, references police violence

reading copy

Unwritten, Vol. 8 - Mike Carey with Peter Gross, Dean Ormston, Yuko Shimizu

When Tommy Taylor learns that Lizzie is trapped in the land of the dead, he goes to rescue her—but he’s unprepared for his adventures there, or the wider implications.

8/10

Indigenous Australian secondary character

off my TBR

All Quiet on the Western Front - Erich Maria Remarque

Paul Bäumer recounts his time serving in the German army in WWI.

7/10

warning: war, death, animal death, gore, injury

off my TBR

A Sorceress Comes to Call - T. Kingfisher

Cordelia’s terrible mother has decided to marry a squire. Cordelia knows he and his sister don’t deserve that—but how to stop her, when she can do magic?

7.5/10

warning: child abuse, torture, murder, animal cruelty and death

finished copy received through work

A Man and His Cat, Vol. 4 - Umi Sakurai

Kanda gets the courage to make a new friend and revisit an old situation.

7/10

Japanese cast, Japanese author

off my TBR

A Gentleman from Japan - Thomas Lockley

The true story of a Japanese man who was brought to the court of Elizabeth I and influenced early modern English science.

7.5/10

warning: slavery, orientalism, war and violence

library book

Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books - Kirsten Miller

In Troy, Georgia, the fight for public decency is kicked off by Lula Dean, who craves attention and loves her Southern history—and her fencepost library, where someone’s put wholesome jackets over books she’s tried to ban….

7/10

ensemble cast including Black, 🏳️‍🌈 (gay, lesbian), and Indo-American POV characters

warning: Nazis, anti-Semitism, anti-Black racism, homophobia, rape, suicide

reading copy

The Library Thief - Kuchenga Shenjé

Florence talks her way into a job repairing a lord’s library, but is quickly drawn in by the mysterious death of the lady of the house. A gothic novel centering race, gender, and other marginalizations in late Victorian England.

7/10

Black British main character, Black British secondary characters, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (trans woman, sapphic), Black British author

warning: racism, including slurs; rape, abuse, misogyny, queerphobia

library book

The Voyage of the Damned - Frances White

A grand state voyage is upset by murder and it’s up to the lowly, non-Blessed Ganymedes to catch the killer before they dock. Goddess help them all if he doesn’t….

5.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (multisexual), fat protagonist, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (nonbinary, ace, trans man, sapphic, achillean), Indian-, African-, and Japanese-coded secondary characters

warning: murder, injuries, blood, colonial thinking, attempted genocide, suicidal thoughts

reading copy

DNF

Remedial Magic - Melissa Marr

Safe and ordinary Ellie meets a mysterious woman in her library, and is whisked to a fantasy world where she’s probably a witch—and almost certainly in trouble.

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (sapphic), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (sapphic), 🏳️‍🌈 author

reading copy

Casket Case - Lauren Evans

Garrett stops to ask for directions at Nora’s casket shop and they hit it off. Unfortunately he works for Death…. Out in September.

African-American secondary characters

reading copy

Currently reading

A Natural History of Dragons - Marie Brennan

A memoir by Lady Trent, renowned natural philosopher and adventuress, but covering her childhood and first expedition, to the mountain highlands of Vystrana, and the troublesome dragons encountered there.

library book

Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century - Richard Taruskin A history of early written European music, in its social and political contexts. The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle Victorian detective stories.

disabled POV character (limb injury), occasional Indian secondary characters

warning: racism, colonialism

Monthly total: 11 Yearly total: 70 Queer books: 1 Authors of colour: 3 Books by women: 6 Authors outside the binary: 0 Canadian authors: 1 Classics: 1 Off the TBR shelves: 4 Books hauled: 2 ARCs acquired: 3 ARCs unhauled: 6 DNFs: 2

January February March April May June July

#books #booklr #bookblr #reading wrap-ups #rec lists #book recommendations #read in 2024 #my photos

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scary-pixie · 2 months ago

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November 1st = New Tina Year! (secret diary entry and upcoming goals)

I'm mainly writing this down so I don't slack off! Cause if I slack off I can look back on this and think, "wow, you failed terribly. dingus."

Ahem.

Anyways, I am in the process of thinking up some new short term goals now that:

2024 con season is over (with the exception of some smaller events)

Spooky Season is almost over (I like posting non-stop spooky stuff during this delightful time)

Twitter is going inside the toilet

Magazine troubles (more on this below)

I have met the famous man whose inspiration played a big role in both: a) getting back into drawing my old OCs after 15+ years (little round glasses are a bad influence), and b) getting brave enough to be on video after saying I would never do this for god knows how long. (secret: I watched a certain music video with one of his characters the morning before I made my own). BUT HE WILL NEVER KNOW ABOUT THIS AND I WILL NEVER TELL! I AM FULL OF CRINGE!!!

This is what I'm thinking at the moment, in terms of my next creative direction. I appreciate any thoughts or advice!!:

My OC art was an absolute flop in terms of gaining new social media followers. Bluesky seems to be a LITTLE bit better, but it's still early to tell and I haven't posted too many of my OCs there yet either. For the time being, though, I plan to get back to my Schoolism subscription assignments since I've been neglecting them for a bit!

good lord I need to flatten my stomach somehow, as I cannot fit into my preferred fashion choices. I quit watching TV for a while in the summer, which helped a bit (I tend to eat everything in the house while I watch), so I may try this again soon.

arm workouts are going alright I guess, I am gaining a bit of muscle in my armes so they do not look so much like noodles.

Tempted to get back into posting video game screenshots and mini-reviews on social media since people really liked this stuff, but I'm worried it might just add more to my plate.

I'm really enjoying doing videos now, I'm just not sure which direction to take them (or if I even should take them places). I tend to film a lot of myself and a long-time friend in the car just saying stupid shit, but I don't really want to post all of these.

I wish to read more books without falling asleep, jesus christ this is tough.

On a similar note: the magazine I used to write book and comic reviews for has SHUT DOWN GOD DAMN IT so maybe I'll write some new stuff here?? Not sure yet!

I need to get back to my Japanese studies!! I used to do them at lunch and dinner but now I get distracted by all the awful political shit online! Aaaaaaaa!! I really hope America doesn't combust in the next few days but I guess we'll find out soon...

Finally, I need to be more active HERE! It's the best place for longform writing and art that might be a bit too "cringe" for the general public. Let's see if I can stick to it!!

I think that's all I have to SAY for NOW. Wish me luck in sticking to my goals instead of spiralling into ADHD Twitter nonsense, aaaaaaaaaaaa!!

Tagging a couple frands: @prometheus-ghost @fadingdreamerdream @thewebspinner @autolykiss @draganwhorror

Also anyone who actually wants to watch my shitty ass videos, the link is below. I have a bunch more but haven't posted them! https://www.instagram.com/kittensoft39/reels/

#secret journal #goals #creative goals

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opreaadriann · 3 months ago

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Weekly Update - October 20, 2024

Hello, everyone! Sorry for disappearing on you all, I had an interesting couple of weeks. Long story short, there was a death in the family followed by a vacation in a country with really bad internet.

Now that I’m done with the explanation, let’s get into High School Revenge, the reason you’re all here.

I’ve finished 99% of the homecoming campaign. I wrote on my phone, so a lot of variables are all over the place and I need to fine tune everything on my computer. When you can actually play this part of the demo, I want to hear your opinions on the help the ROs can give you. I think Isaac’s is pretty funny, but I do have the sense of humor of a 5 year old. Also, a bit spoilery here, so skip to the next paragraph if you know nothing about Vivian, but you can get her homecoming party proposition during the campaign too, if you missed it the first time around.

I’ve also started work on the first phase of homecoming: asking out someone to be your date. You’ll first have a choice to wait and see if anyone will ask you out or directly ask whoever you’re interested in. There’s a lot of freedom here, so even if you get rejected by 7 out of 8 ROs, you can try with the 8th RO as well. Generally, I’ve decided to make things harder for male MCs, since most ROs won’t take the initiative if you’re a male. I know, very sad, boys don’t get asked out as often as girls. Just to clarify, the check that will decide if the RO accepts your homecoming date invitation will have nothing to do with gender (unless we’re talking about the ones that have some sexual identity problems).

I’ve also come up with one non-RO date option, Fighting Rooster members can likely guess who it is, since it’s been implied. If you think there’s another option I may have missed that could work, please mention it.

The art contest I did a few weeks ago is also done, so I should start to have a lot of cool art of the characters done in the next coming months. I’ll start with a free one this month for everyone to see what me and Duveru will be offering up on Patreon. I’m thinking of doing the scene where Cecily tells the MC to not talk to her friends on the first day.

Last thing I want to ask is if you guys would be interested in joining the Discord I set up for the story? As you’ve all probably noticed, I tend to not talk much unless an update date comes, but I tend to be more active there since I also have some work-related stuff to do there. If there’s enough interest, then I have to work on making it a bit more fun and interactive (don’t worry, it won’t be a lot of extra work since I already have another server and know what I want to add) and then I’ll likely share the invite link next week.

#high school revenge #interactive fiction #if wip #romance #interactive game #choicescript #update

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bump1nthen1ght · 7 months ago

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It's Honest Work (Masc!Reader x NB!Ghost)

Pairing: Masc!Reader x NB!Ghost

Genre: Modern, Crushes, Pining

Word Count: 3380 words

Warning: N/A

Summary: You’ve started noticing some oddities of the old library you work at, smaller incidents building up to stoke your suspicion. Unbeknownst to you, the presence is looking less to haunt, and more to help.

A/N: Not sure if this is dark academia, but I hope I did some pining justice! This prompt was just so cute.

Request: Oooh could I request a Drabble featuring a masc reader who cares for an old library accidentally discovering that there’s been a timid but sweet ghost (enby) floating around the library’s old halls who’d been staying hidden cause they didn’t want to frighten reader and leave them all alone, all with some heavy romantic tension and pining please? Feel free to add whatever extra details you want if you feel like it, I’m just craving some sweet and spooky dark academia romance :)

Day 1: I think the library might be haunted.

You look at the drying ink on the page, wondering if the three hours of sleep you got last night is getting to you.

It’s easy for your mind to wander in the library. Especially on nights like these, when no one wanders in for hours, when every slight noise echoes across the giant bookcases, when the dark corners seem full of monsters. It’s human instinct to grow wary, the deep-seated monkey-brain part of you on edge.

But this has been more than that. It's why you’ve decided to write stuff down, to catalog all the weird occurrences.

March 11th:

Books in the YA section have been reorganized methodically to the dewey decimal system. Supervisor complimented me on my thorough work, and I know I did not do that good of a job.

Air conditioner that has not worked for months sputtered to life this morning after I complained about the summer heat. No one has been able to figure out what happened.

You look at your list, those doubtful thoughts once again creeping into your mind. These really could be explained away as happenstance, pure coincidence, or another fault of your sluggish, sleep-deprived mind.

But you must push on. They may jot happen everyday, but these oddities have stuck out to you the past couple weeks. You’re hoping that by writing them down you’ll either see a pattern that ascribes logic to all of this, or see that there’s no connection at all and be assured it's just your own overreaction.

The rest of your shift goes relatively normally, nothing too odd occurring. You allow yourself to sink into the normal routine of sorting books, helping patrons and cleaning. It’s a nice rhythm and it’s hard not to feel peaceful in it.

Even with an extra pair of eyes watching you.

—

You must really love this new artist. With the library closed down for the night you don’t stop your humming, nor the shimmying of your shoulders and hips. You even walk with a slight bounce, headbanging to the heaviest parts. It’s enough of a distraction that you completely miss a book falling from your cart, nearly left behind as you trot into the new section. Luckily, Gene is able to grab it just as quickly and slot into the cart, right next to the other books of the same genre. You continue to bop, muttering some half-lyrics under your breath as you sort books.

Ah, they’re always so cute when they dance.

For an avid reader who died in a library, you'd think Gene would never be lacking in entertainment. And yet after ninety odd years, even Gene had to admit reading could be snore.

But then you showed up.

You, the vibrant, young librarian, just bursting with passion. Who took the extra time to recommend a series based on people’s tastes, who always volunteered to be the reader at kids reading circle, enthusiastically acting out each part. Who remembered each familiar face and what they had just finished and what they were hoping to read next.

If we had met when I was alive, would they remember me, too?

Just the thought of talking to you has Gene in a tailspin, hands throne over their translucent face as if they still blushed like before.

No way.

You were so you and they were so themselves. Even if they were alive, Gene would never have the courage to come up to you. Not with that radiant smile, or your laugh…

At first Gene and contented themselves just to watch you. Convince themselves you were the first new face in a while, all your coworkers being people in their 60’s who had worked at the library for 30+ years. That hearing you banter over the phone was like watching a sitcom, getting a snapshot into an idealized life.

But then you had a particularly bad day, nothing going to plan. Someone had screamed at you, your coffee had spilled the minute you stepped into the building, and your hair was acting strange. You had hidden in a storage closet and cried, and Gene felt their dead heart breaking all over again.

That was the day they started helping, in their own way. It was win-win, really. You had most of your inconveniences done away with, and Gene got to feel like they were actually interacting with you. Like you guys were friends.

Maybe more, one day.

Gene sighs, breath unneeded but the emotion too heavy not to. The watch as you bop down another aisle, doing a quick air-guitar in between the aisles.

It seems I might be in over my head.

—

Day 5: WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!!!

After a whole week’s worth of observations, your fears have been confirmed, not assuaged.

Something weird is happening. Umbrella’s don’t just pop up when the weather takes an unexpected turn and you forget yours at home. Fridges don;’ just close when you forgetfully leave them open. But the most damning thing of all is-

Some kid spilled apple juice all over one of the tables today. Luckily no books were harmed, but I went to go get some paper towels while the mom rushed her kid to the bathroom. When I was back, the table was clean. No bystanders, no thrown out paper towels, nothing.

I work alone today.

Something is happening, even if it's not necessarily a bad thing. More of just an odd thing, in a guardian angel sort of way.

You’re not sure where to go from here. You had hoped this journal would lead you somewhere, some kind of resolution. But this half-answer gave you nothing but confusion. And maybe a little gratitude.

Maybe…you should just leave it alone. Let your angel do their magic, and take the extra generosity when you can.

You’re closing up for the day, headphones left in their case as you put away leftover books and move the carts around. Your ears are pricked for another person, a small part of you still convinced that there must be someone else hiding. The front entrance has already been locked, you’re in a bottle here.

Nothing, not a peep. Not even a kid who lost track of time reading and hasn’t realized the library was closed. It’s quiet, too quiet.

With all the closing tasks done, all your stuff shoved into your bag, you’re just about ready to go home. It’s a bit anticlimactic, and you start wondering if this ghost theory came from a need to spice up your life a bit.

Still, you can’t help the feeling…

Right before you turn off the lights, bag slung over your shoulder, you turn to the looming library.

“Um, I don’t know if anyone’s actually there, but I just wanted to say…uh…thank you. For helping me out. If that’s what you're doing, anyway. I guess I don’t know it’s for my benefit but…I appreciate it.”

Silence lingers, echoes off long stacks of books. No response.

You sigh, wondering what you were thinking in the first place. You flick off the lights, turn towards the door and start moving for your car keys.

“You’re welcome.”

Your body bag hits the ground with a thump as you nearly jump 2 feet in the air, heart kicked into overdrive. Eyes darting around, your blood pumps fast across your chest, neurons firing.

“Holy shit.” You hold out a hand like calming a wild predator, even though there’s still only empty space all around you.

That was real, you heard that. It had to be.

“H-hello?” Anyone there?

Like a Dickensian dream, the kind that has you rubbing your eyes and questioning your sanity, a half-see through apparition peaks its head from behind a bookshelf. If it weren’t for the faded apparation proving your initial ideas correct, the fact that they’re hovering 3 feet off the ground would have.

Oh my god, I was right.

“Hello.” A gentle voice whispers, the transatlantic accent already apparent. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” They tug at their long sleeves, eyes darting all over the place. The dumb expression of shock on your face probably isn’t helping.

“It’s no problem! I wasn’t scared…just surprised.” You rub the back of your neck, the beating of your heart slowing down just a bit. Of all the ghosts to meet in your lifetime, this one seemed pretty nice. “Um, I’m ____, Nice to meet you.” Taking a step forward, you hold out your hand, then pull it back, wondering if a bow would make more sense. Then you stop and think “That’s stupid”, and hold out your hand again.

God, even around dead people I am so awkward.

But it’s enough to make the ghost giggle, peeking out from behind the bookshelf. They hover over, laced shoes just barely touching the ground, and take your hand in a handshake

Touching their skin feels like touching a pile of feathers; A tickling of sensations that only last for a second, a vague imprint before it’s only air behind. It’s interesting, and less unnerving than you thought it would be.

“I’m Gene. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ___. Officially.”

You nod along, brain still reeling from the revelations currently occurring.

Though their silhouette is partially transparent you can see the hints of color of their clothing. Some faded brown slacks, tucked into high socks and shoes. Their button up is loose and striped, not as pressed or finely cut as for a suit, but more for everyday. All in all it looks like an oufti you could see being worn by a hipster of today, or a particular dedicated historian.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I think I already know the answer, but, are you the one who's been helping me?”

Gene’s face goes dark, no blood flowing through their veins but their blush still apparent. They tuck a stray lock of hair behind their ear, twirling it nervously.

“Yes…that was me. I never meant to spook you, it’s just…” Gene yanks at the wayward hair, eyes still pointed to the ground. “...seemed right, to help around. I have been sort of free-loading here in the afterlife.”

You nod along, silently cheering that your mad hypothesis was correct after all.

“Well, thank you, again. It’s actually been really nice, someone having my back all this time.” You scratch the back of your neck. “How long have you been here, anyway?”

“About, 90-ish years, now? I can’t remember the exact day, just that it was a Sunday, and I had come here on my day off. I loved this place.” Gene looks all around at the library. It’s a mix of nostalgia and melancholy, a quiet resignation.

“And…it’s just been you? No other ghosts around?”

“Nope.” Gene sighs a nonexistent breath, rubbing the bridge of their nose. “Just me. Guess I’m only one to be foolish enough to die in a library. By a copy of Moby Dick, no less.”

“Oh.”

There’s a twisting in your gut, a primal sadness at the fact. The library was large, larger than most, but even you felt stifled after working a particularly long shift. There were some windows added in recent decades, but the old construction of the building meant little light often crept in. The tall bookcases didn’t help, making the place seem more cramped and constricting than it was. It was nice in bursts, but nine whole decades?

And they still found the time to help me out.

You had been planning on heading home and crashing, maybe vegging out in front of the TV before dragging yourself to bed. It feels too anticlimactic now, given how this night is going.

What to do? You don’t want to ask too many prying questions, even though you’re dying to know more about the afterlife. Feels a little too personal, even tasteless. Then again, you can’t just leave. Not after they made the effort to introduce themselves, and have been your guardian angel these past few weeks.

“What books do you like?”

Gene looks slightly taken aback, their brow furrowing.

“Uhm, a little bit of everything, I suppose. I’ve read just about everything here. But I guess if I had to choose….” That blush returns, coloring their cheeks a slightly darker hue. “...Mystery. I’m partial to Mystery novels..”

“Mystery, huh?” You tap your chin, thinking about the last shipment of books you got. “Any particular favorites?”

Gene’s see-through eyes somehow light up, their mouth quirking into a grin.

“Agatha Christie, oh for sure Agatha Christie. I actually-” Gene stutters over their words, suddenly sheepish, “-I was reading one of her books when it…” They look upward at the tall bookshelves, rubbing a non-existent bump on the back of their head, “...when it happened.” Gene shrugs their shoulders. “Guess I was too lost in thought.”

Well, at least they have good humor about it, it seems.

“Oh, she’s really good! I’ve only read the Murder of Roger Ackeroyd, but I remember loving it when I did.” The library training kicks in, the familiar Christie Christie Christie you had to shelve and the countless kids reading her for English class haunting you. “We have a pretty decent mystery collection, their on the-”

“Third row down, shelves 28-30?”

Gene’s hand point the same way, not even looking in the direction.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Force of habit.”

Gene’s cheeks darken again in a blush, waving their hands back and forth. “I-it’s no problem! I know this place a little too well, by now I've read about every mystery book it’s ever had. I think I’m stuck with that knowledge forever.”

You’re about to say something, maybe ask them more about the books, when the clock chimes.

It’s an old clock, installed up at the front back in the 70’s. It still chimes at every hour, little less useful now that everyone carries clocks in their pocket.

“My Apologies!” Gene blusters, floating form jerking a bit upright. “I’m keeping you so late, you’d probably be home by now if not for me.” Gene’s hands tug at their sleeves, which probably would be threadbare at this point if not for the fact they are incorporeal.

“It’s no problem! I don't live that far anyway. Besides, what kind of person would I be if I didn’t thank my savior properly?”

Gene averts their eyes, a small smile on their face. The bask in the praise, sinking into it like a warm blanket.

Cute.

The thought surprises even you, the apple of your cheeks feeling hot.

“Do you like movies?”

Gene eyebrow furrows, a small dimple on the side of their cheek. It’s a sign of their thinking, a small detail you’re slowly starting to pick up again.

“I enjoy them. I saw a couple when I was alive. Those and the few they put on here, sometimes.”

Ahh, and those are few and far between. Most of them are stuffy documentaries or animated children's movies. Not that those are bad, per say, but it seems alongside everything else, Gene has been deprived of most other genres while trapped in the library.

An idea blossoms in your mind, locking the front door behind you and setting down your backpack.

“Gene, I think I found a way to pay back those kind deeds.”

“You don’t need to do that-”

“Nope, I’m gonna.” There’s almost a skip to your step as you hurry to the employee office, specifically the larger closet in the very back. It’s filled with all the stuff needed for those rare movie nights; blankets, pillows, foldable chairs for stability. You shove all of those into a big laundry basket, then gently fold the projector screen and tuck the projector on top of the soft pile.

Gene is in the same spot as before, puzzled as you bring out more and more things.

“And, of course.” You shake an old box of microwave popcorn. “No movie night is complete without this.” You ripe open the bag with some fanfare, popping it into the staff microwave before running back out.

“Movie night?” Gene tilts their head, reminding you too much of a puppy.

“Yeah!” You lay out the first blanket, setting some chairs up at all corners, then draping another blanket on top. “A wonderful modern soiree, The movie night is a classic occasion that everyone has to experience once in their life. Or, afterlife.”

The lights in the library are still slightly dimmed, only two flickering from when you were closing up. But they don’t seem as spooky as they did before, much more cozy.

Gene peaks their head in as you fluff up more pillows and blankets, using other chairs as supportive backs so the two of you can sit up.

You sit back on your legs, admiring your cozy masterpiece.

“Ta-da!”

Gene leans further in, feeling up the soft fleece and cotton. Their thumbs run circles over the fabric. It makes you wonder the last time they even laid in a bed, let alone wrapped themselves in the blanket.

“And I have just the movie too! You’re gonna love it.”

You prop the projector up on a seat covered in a thin sheet, shuffling out of the fort to hang up the projector on a nearby wall. By the time you’re turned around, you see Gene has curled themselves into the blanket fort, knees tucked into their chest, sitting on top of the blankets. You grab the now hot popcorn from the microwave, pour it into the large communal bowl, snag the nearby remote and join them, turning the device on and connecting it to your phone.

“Here, I got this just for ya.” You hand Gene a fleece blanket, a boldly decorated Lion King Merch blanket someone’s mom has donated too many years ago.

Gene takes it like it’s hot, holding it daintily in their hands.

“Oh, thank you.”

They lay it over their lap, smoothing out the wrinkles. Their back is ramrod straight.

“First rule of blanket fort, coziness comes first.” You quickie burrito yourself in blankets, settling the bowl in between you two.

Gene takes your hint, shoulders unlocking, knees untucking and splaying out in front of them. They daintily rest their nonexistent weight on the back of the pillow.

A familiar streaming site pops up on the director and your quick to search for your movie of choice.

“Knives out? I think I may have heard of this one.”

“Oh yeah, it was a huge hit. Really good mystery movie.”

You click play, hands shuffling through the bowl of popcorn and stuffing your mouth. You hold up the bowl for Gene.

Gene looks at the bowl, brows still crossed.

Wait a minute.

You struggle to swallow the handful of popcorn.

“Sorry…can you eat? I just realized, uh-”

A translucent hand shifts around the popcorn, moving it just like a corporeal one would. Gene lifts it up, just as surprised as you are that they can hold it.

“I don’t need to eat. But I guess I never tried to before. Never too many options.”

Gene daintily pops a popcorn into their mouth, mouth chewing in slow motion. 9 decades later, they're almost out of practice.

A dramatic swallow, and…

“Apparently I can.”

“Hell yeah.”

—

3/4th’s into the movie, your long shift finally hits you. It’s slow and gradual at first, Gene only noticing once your head hits their shoulder, a soft tap, half-of a sensation.

You’re still snuggled up into your blanket, the warmth of your body seeping into their half-one. Gene never realized how cold they were until they touched your hand earlier tonight. They had forgotten just how hot human bodies were.

But you don’t flinch away or shy from the cold breeze, snuggling deeper into the soft sensation, the weird texture of touching something half-way in this dimension.

If they still had a heart, Gene’s would surely be thumping wildly. So long they had wondered what it would be like, talking to you, doing things with you, touching you.

A stray hair falls onto your forehead. Gene brushes it away, goosebumps rolling down your neck. You look so cute like this, relaxed and in your element.

Maybe there could be something after all.

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #ghost x reader #ghost

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