#i think this is best described as basically a kind of platonic fluff?

[hal-1500]

Another very silly interaction between everyone’s favourite technopagan and Iowa’s answer to G.I. Joe:

Jenny and Riley have got some time to kill in the waiting room at Sunnydale General while their respective sweethearts are getting patched up.

Bonding may or may not occur. 

So do some other shenanigans courtesy of their single shared braincell.

[nilouandnarimylove]

Thoughts on the 4ggravate polycule

Basically just how I feel about each of the ships inside the polycule

4ggravate: I like it! More as a crack ship though, lol. Realistically I couldn't ever really see them getting into an polyamorous relationship (at least not with the interpretation I have of each character). But with certain fanfictions and fanart I find them fun haha.

Cynonari: This post best explains my thoughts on the ship. I just can't see it romantically despite being popular. However, I think they work great in a platonic relationship!! Though not canon, I love the idea of them growing up as childhood friends and seeing each other as brothers :)

Haikaveh: Yes. This is probably my favorite cc x cc ship in game. Their dynamic is just everything to me- the banter, the tension, the subtle moments of care, the slow burn. They really are so domestic and I love that for them. I can't explain specifically why I like them so this image would be the best way to describe it-

Haino: The relationship I have with this ship is complicated. On one hand, I love it as a crack ship and think the two most emotionally inept (Alhaitham is much more emotionally inept than Cyno) people attempting to navigate a romantic relationship is comedy gold. On the other hand, Kaveh is really the only person I ever see Alhaitham developing feelings for, and well, I just don't think Cyno would be very into Alhaitham💀 It's funny, but that's kind of all I think of it. (The art I see of them though is very cute though).

Kavehno: This is honestly my biggest comfort ship EVER. Why? Simple reason: Fluff. There's just not a lot of angst or drama to them like at all, they're both really caring and kind people who would be very attentive towards each other. They're just so soft and sweet and I find myself smiling whenever I think about them :)

Hainari: Another ship I have a complicated relationship with. I feel as though I'm biased for my love for the ship because I read a wonderful AO3 fic on the ship and that impacted my fondness for the ship. However, realistically with the interpretations I have of Tighnari and Alhaitham I just can't really see it ever happening. I can't even see them ever becoming good friends. Their relationship to me is "oh, that guy." And nothing more. The only time they see each other is when the four meet up, so they never really have any one-on-one interactions. This is how I feel their interactions go-

Alhaitham: ....Is there anything new happening with you?

Tighnari: No. You?

Alhaitham: No.

Tighnari: Oh. Alright then.

Kavehnari: Can't see it romantically, I love the idea of them being besties though. Tighnari being the FIRST person Kaveh runs to whenever he needs to vent and Tighnari is always ready for the tea. He may not respond with much other than a few head nods, and "really?"s, but he's listening intently to everything Kaveh tells him.

Keep in mind that these are all just my personal interpretations on each ship, and not me trying to bash on anyone else.

[tierra-paldeana]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have?

from the moment i saw rika, i fell in love. basically the same experience everyone else had when they saw her in game - thinking she was a boy, and then having your world rocked the moment you discovered she was a girl hahaha. ever since that day she became a very big source of comfort, as someone who considers herself gnc. matter of fact, rika as a character makes me feel so cozy she raises my self esteem and makes me even prouder to be gnc hahah!

but i also had that instinct of mine of 'what if i take her and make up her backstory and give her trauma'... i waited until the DLCs came out to start developing stuff though.

is there anything you don’t like to write?

anything related to non-con. also sorry but netorare and related topics are also a no. i'm prolly missing stuff but those are the things i hate the most off the top of my head-

is there anything you really enjoy writing?

i love shipping of all kinds (platonic, romantic, familial, etc), i love putting my characters through anguish and angst only to get sweet catharsis and comfort by the end, i love fluff a ton, and also character exploration rps (i'm not sure how to describe it tho-)

how do you come up with headcanons? 

i feel them as i go. sometimes i see something that causes a thought to pop into my head and i write it down. other times i'm simply listening to music or doing something else, i start thinking and connecting dots, sometimes even from canon info from the games, and i start making up theories and stuff- however, other times i come up w a hc that i apply to most of my muses by virtue of me already being biased by other things-

like rika being 10% feral? that's because i'm a fucking furry---

do you write in silence or do you play music? 

i got some playlists and random ambiance videos that i pop in and listen to in the bg, especially if i'm writing something that necessitates a specific mood that i have just the right music for. usually they're not songs (as in, sung, with lyrics) otherwise my brain gets distracted and i can't concentrate.

do you plan your replies or wing them?

i try to plan them, but it depends on how i'm feeling most of the time-

do you enjoy shipping? 

i FUCKING LOVE shipping, as i said earlier-

what’s your alias/name? 

akai!

age?

26

birthday? 

may

favorite color?

orange and blue!

favorite song? 

most songs by owl city, i'mma be honest.

last movie you watched?

alice in wonderland, with a friend who hadn't watched it

last show you watched?

currently watching the pokemon anime!

last song you listened to?

a horse with no name, by america!

favorite food? 

pasta, chicken fillets with pepper sauce...

favorite season?

summer!

do you have a tumblr best friend?

not yet- this blog's still in its infancy, i think haha, and i haven't interacted with anyone outside of @laprimera on discord cause i'm super awkward and don't just give my discord away, despite considering myself an ambivert- i might start giving it out more tho once i can get over myself ><

tagging: feel free to steal this lul

[moon-thething]

A bit of a weird idea: but I kinda thought of this. This is a platonic request though lmao.

Basically, I'm not sure how to describe it—but how would Kevin react to Reader(his best friend) having a crush on Streber? And how would Streber react to learning that Reader(in a separate scenario anyway, who is also his bestie) has a crush on Kevin? Would either of them act any different after learning that the Reader liked the other person?

- Kevin Anon.

Oooooo, this is interesting! Thank you for this lovely request Kevin anon! I'm guessing that Kevin and Streber are dating? Or at least I'll try to not mention it that much???

Romantic or platonic?: Platonic

Readers gender: neutral

Type: fluff-ish?

Warnings: slight sexual talk on Streber's part

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

Kevin

Let's just say you didn't tell him... He kind of found out. Won't say how but it's not dirty, ya nasty

I mean, he would be understanding

Who wouldn't like Streber? (Even Bob liked his taste 🤭)

But when he found out that you liked him, he tried so hard not to make it obvious he knew

He would be so awkward around you

But you didn't know the difference since you were head over heels over Streber

It took you a month to notice the shift in his personality around you

Any when you noticed, you of course thought it was the right time for you to tell him you liked Streber

"Uh.. hey Kevin?" You spoke up. You two were currently sitting on the couch, just watching your favorite TV show

He hummed, signaling that he was listening as he munched on his popcorn. You took in a deep breath, looking back at the TV and then back at Kevin

"I think I... Might like Streber."

"Oh, I know." He said, continuing to stuff his mouth with popcorn. Note of your eyes widened as Kevin turned to you

"Shit- I mean,- Oh my gosh, really?" He tried covering up his cracks, quickly wiping the salt of the popcorn off of his lips. You just stared at him with knitted brows and disbelief

"... Did you go through my diary again?"

"What- NO!"

As he expected, you were embarrassed

He tried so hard to comfort you, being like: "I mean- It wasn't that obvious-" even though he is the most dense person ever. He didn't know that the hottest chick in high school liked him, and she literally gave him so many hints-

You then started to panic if Streber knew you liked him, and that led to a whole other situation

But yeah, he was pretty chill about it, slightly awkward about it, but pretty chill

And if he and Streber started to date, he would be slightly on edge, but you're his best friend, and he knows you wouldn't try to steal him away. He also feels bad for dating the person you like, but you assure him that it's fine

Streber

Doesn't give af

He didn't find out like in Kevin's scenario, you told him

And he immediately started fangirling over him with you lmfao

"Hey, Streber?" You said, leaning over the cafe table. You were currently at Streber's favorite cafe, aka the cat cafe near his house

"Yeah?" He said, looking at you as he held the cat in his hands. Flashing his fake fangs at you that he insisted for you two to wear for shits and giggles

"I think I might like Kevin." You said. Streber stared at you with knitted brows, the information slowly getting to his head as his expression morphed into tone of shock

"Omg, really?!" He spoke, his voice too loud for your liking

"Yes- but-"

"OH MY GOD! FINALLY!" He yelled, the cat in his arms jumping from the loud voice and quickly running away, every person in the cafe was looking at you two and you felt like you wanted to pass away then and there

"Crap- sorry everyone!"

Literally feeds in to your delusions

One time he tried to figure out how big his.. you know what was and you screamed at him to stop and he just kept GOING

One made a cardboard cutout of Kevin for your birthday and you turned it the moment he left

Once he starts dating Kevin he feels so bad istg-

But he tells you EVERYTHING, you kept telling him not to say anything about his romantic life, but he kept insisting. Made you write a fanfic about him and Kevin

Actually asked Kevin if he would be interested in a threesome w you

Although he sometimes gets jealous, he does feed into your delusions. So much so that your crush slowly fades away, so it's a win win 👍

[call-sign-shark]

Brummie! You've listened to the song on repeat, I can't believe it. It strengthened the atmosphere and enhanced emotions right? I love reading with background soundtracks. If you liked the experience I'll think about adding the song I've been listening to write for the next chapters. To begin with, I am so glad you picked up the very first scene of Heaven stepping out of the train with Kaiser because she's quite an unusual view for Small Heath, hence I wanted to insist on the contrast with people looking at her. Their certainly a great duo, but it's mainly thanks to our wonderful guardian Kaiser!

I giggled when imagining poor Arthur running everywhere and threatening everyone. Honestly, I can understand his reaction: he told his wife to stay safe and, suddenly, he receives a letter that basically says "fuck you I'm coming". He was in total panic. 🤣 But fortunately John was here to drive her home safely. Talking about these two young idiots, aren't they adorable? I'm glad I can fangirl over the twirling scene because I found it so cute when I wrote it. This is so John-coded in my opinion. So touched that my prose managed to catch you in the story each time. This is the best thing an author can read. 🖤

But despite the fluff, I didn't completely trick you, right? Because you felt that something was off in their last exchange. In my opinion, you have perfectly described what happens here: she instinctively engraves all the tiny details of his face, without really knowing why. About their relationship, I've always loved how you rooted for a platonic bond. Ultimately, I let readers have their own opinions because that's sooo interesting to read. But I really like yours.

Arthur shoving Michael right in the wall got me laughing too, I mean... I agree with both you and Arthur. That's so frustrating when you're walking behind someone slow as fuck 🙄But he just wanted his reunion with his sweet angel. Talking about this, I am delighted you liked the scene 'cause I wasn't satisfied with my descriptions. Their love is definitely electrifying and each time they touched, its as powerful as the first time -- you perfectly and poetically describe their dynamics I'm speechless. Eehh do they feel like family to you? Because now you got me teary. Seriously I can't thank you enough for the love you give to this little couple. 🥹 Still about their reunion, we could almost feel the kiss eh? That was what I call a burning kiss, with his hands touching and rubbing. That sounds super hot so I can only but agree with you. 🥴 (and Arthur's all blushing at the compliment now)

Now, let's talk about the worst part of this chapter... I am glad you managed to feel the eerie, almost fairy-tale-like atmosphere of the scene. Haute-Falaise is a kind of embodiment of the concept of melancholy: she's not even sure she wants to come back there, it's more like a longing for a home that cannot be retrieved anymore. The combination with the beautiful landscape and John's brutal death strengthens the sudden nature of the attack. Now, I am really for breaking your heart, honey. I am so surprised and moved by the fact I've managed to stir so many powerful emotions in you. I've never thought someone would care when I first started writing this series. As I wrote, I wanted this chapter to be more descriptive but I felt like the pace of John's death was quick and brutal, so sticking to a very raw and fast prose would be better. Also, the simple realisation that her best friend is dead is enough to be painful, I don't think writing an extended description of her feelings would have done the trick.

Thank you again, honey, I'm sending you love, hugs, and chocolate to you alright? I am proud that this chapter is your favorite because, really, I used to dislike it when I was working on it ugh. Thank you again, it means a lot, especially from such a good storyteller like you! 🖤

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Disobeying Tommy's orders, you're back in Small Heath. Your rebellious attitude starts to really bother him but you don't care. All that matters is that you're reunited with Arthur and John, the two men of your lives. From then, nothing can go wrong. Nothing, right? -- Featuring John Shelby x Reader.

Words: 5.5k

TW: Extreme angst - read at your own risk, graphic depiction of violence, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, major character death, allusions to self-harm.

Notes:

✞ Theme song on repeat if you want to break your heart: HERE

✞ Quotes from the TV Shows are in bold and italics

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you �� (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT CHAPTER

The deafening howl of the train’s honk boomed in Small Heath’s station, quickly followed by a whistling sound. The steel giant had barely opened its heavy doors when the foul-smelling wind of the city rushed into the wagon and made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. It was not that you hated Small Heath strictly speaking, but the stark contrast between the industrial city and the green landscape of the forest in which you lived now was difficult to process. The sound of your stiletto soon clicked on the metallic steps as you got off the train, attracting people’s eyes to your tiny frame. Yet, you weren’t really sure if this sudden attention came from their sound, or rather the sight of your short black dress adorned with the most expensive white fur coat you had ever owned, and the gold choker necklace you wore, whose shape was one of a barbed wire wrapped around your neck. When your heels found the dirty concrete of the platform, a gargantuan hundred pounds Cane Corso with a spiked collar followed you closely, like a silent but off-putting bodyguard. He was your shadow, mimicking each of your movements and grazing your steps,  except if told otherwise. Loyal guardian, Kaiser was even more protective since Arthur left. Without minding the fascinated or curious stares that were looking at you, you walked out of the station with the dog’s leash in one of your small hands and a cigarette in the other.

“Mrs. Shelby? Here is your bag.” A man told you, all the while putting the said luggage at your feet. 

“Thanks, sir.” You replied with a brief polite smile, before stubbing your cigarette on the nearest wall and throwing it away. At first, you had been surprised by the care the staff provided you during the whole trip until you saw the glow of fear in their eyes as soon as they noticed your family name on the ticket.  She’s Arthur Shelby’s wife, you better be ready to help her with her stuff if you don’t want her husband to knock at your door and break your skull. That was what the ticket inspector told one of his colleagues when he met him in another wagon a few minutes after this frightful discovery. Waiting in front of the train station with a slight feeling of uneasiness, you swept your surrounding with your celeste blue eyes, whose coldness equaled the freezing English wind.  Looking around you in the hope of catching sight of a cab, your fingers absentmindedly brushed the almost imperceptible white burn scar on your wrist. The circle-shaped wound the cigarette had left on your skin had miraculously healed in a matter of days.

“Welcome home, little Angel.”  A familiar voice echoed right behind you. You turned around in one swift movement, and your freezing gaze turned into a child-like expression: John’s smile welcomed you, its charms so blinding that it made you momentarily forget about the dreadful feeling you carried in your soul. 

“John!” You exclaimed, unable to hold your joy any longer. Kaiser’s bark followed right after when he recognized who the man was. Without further ado, you rushed into him to pull him in a hug. Amused, John could not help but chuckle at such a vivid reaction before wrapping your body with his muscular arms and tightening his grip around you with the firm desire not to let you go, “What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at him. Your enlightened expression adorned your doll face and made your hypnotizing eyes shine with elation.

“That ain’t the right question, love. What are you doing here?” He teased you, raising one of his eyebrows, then stared right at your eyes. His tongue pushed the toothpick that was in his mouth from the right corner to the left before he went on, “When Arthur got your letter he told me about your arrival in Birmingham. Hell, he was so happy and terrified at the same time I thought that bastard was having an aneurysm. I’m the one who came at the train station ‘cause Arthur still has to make a few last-minute adjustments to welcome you here.”  As he talked, the young Shelby brother had freed one of his hands from your delicate body to pat the big Cane Corso’s head. The latter closed his eyes, mouth wide open and tongue hanging in bliss.

“A few adjustments?” You frowned.

“Like, threatening all the men of Small Heath not to even look at you, and dealing with Tommy’s reaction. He’s fuckin’ mad at you, eh.” 

Of course, he was — you could not expect less from Thomas Shelby. God, you barely arrived in town he already found a way to bother you, even if he was not here. At this stage, he had real talent. “You know what? Fuck Tommy. If he thought I’d be dumb enough to stay out of the plan while my husband and you risk your lives, well it’s his problem, not mine. And if Changretta’s men come to my door, I’ll put them in the dirt myself.” That being said, you waved off the topic, “But let’s not talk about Tommy, please” You concluded, then laid a soft kiss on his chin.  As your juicy lips crashed against his skin, John half-closed his eyelids and let out a soft exhale from his nostrils.

“Yeah, I bet you will,” He stated, referring to you possibly burying Changretta’s henchmen six feet deep. John enjoyed the physical contact for a few extra seconds, then he gently parted from you and closed his fingers around your wrist in a soft grip. You raised your gaze to him, surprised.

“Wait a minute. I just wanna check something before you get in my car.” His smile vanished, handing over to a very serious expression that kind of unsettled you.

“What‘s the problem?” Your smile followed his somewhere else. You didn’t know where, but what was sure was that it had left your face. 

Without the slightest warning, John raised your arm above your head and made you twirl one first time, “Would you look at you, little angel! What a stunning outfit!” He exclaimed, before spinning you again to admire your otherworldly beauty, “Oh my God, I’m in love. Last time we met you were barefoot in the grass like some kind of ethereal nymphet and here you come in the shape of a goddess, dressed like a queen?”  You suddenly chuckled at his unexpected reaction.

“Hey fuck you! You’ve scared me!” You nudged him in the ribs with your free arm, but it only made him laugh louder. 

“My little heart can’t resist that.” He winked at you, his grin stretching in an adorably annoying smile only he could do before making you twirl again. Sometimes, you wondered if Tommy and he were really brothers. He is so different from Arthur and John. You thought.

“John! Shut up, dumbass. Your little heart can’t resist girls in general — or more like your cock can’t resist girls.” You rolled your eyes, faking an annoyed pout which only resulted in John protectively wrapping your shoulders with one arm. 

“That’s my mean angel! Fuck I’ve missed you and your quick wit so bad. C’mon!” He said, grabbing your bag with his free hand before you started walking away. Kaiser ran and hopped inside the car a few seconds before you did.

The whole trip went well, casual conversations and joking with John had managed to alleviate the anger in your heart, which was far too focused on the driver’s joyful voice and stunning eyes. He talked to you about the kids, about his new house, and about some childhood stories. Surprisingly enough, each of his sentences had snatched a smirk from you despite the anxious situation in which the Shelbys were embedded. Nevertheless, your mind drifted away at some point and you stopped listening to him though. Not that he bothered you, but it was rather due to the fact that you lost yourself in the contemplation of the smallest details of his face. The adorable freckles, his little round ears, his pinchable cheeks… Everything about John Shelby made you feel at home. 

“Is that fine with you?” His voice suddenly popped your thoughts bubble.

“Hm?”

“I was saying that you’re going to live a few days at me house just the time for Arthur to secure Watery Lane properly. You’ll spend Christmas with me, Esme, and the kids.” He repeated, noticing he had been talking to himself for a little while.

“Ah,” You started, batting your Bambi lashes quickly to chase away your daydreams. That was all you could say, for you dive into your thoughts right again. A comforting silence fell between you. After a little while, John slightly bit the inner of his cheek and glanced at you. The truth was he had been hesitating on his next move for five solid minutes. No matter how goofy John Shelby could act, he was a sharp observant. Considering his ease at analyzing people, he naturally noticed the way your fingers nervously played with the fabric of your dress, indicating your inner turmoil. The young gangster slowly moved his hand towards you, still conflicted about what he was about to do — Was it appropriate? Were you going to slap him? He hoped not, for he didn’t want to crash the car on the side of the road and explain the reason behind the accident to Esme. But worst than facing his wife’s wrath was to offend you.

No, no he wouldn’t want you to hate him. Yet, John was not the kind of man to let the demons of his mind win. Acting first, and thinking after was a motto he often applied in real life. He briefly looked at you again, his sky-blue eyes meeting your aquamarine iris before they shifted their focus back on the road. The young Shelby brother finally gathered his courage and rested his warm and strong hand on your thighs. 

“Hey. Are you okay? You didn’t tell me what you think about living at me house.” 

“Oh yeah,” You slightly shook your head, “That’s fine with me John boy.” You finally said, punctuating your sentence by gently covering his hand with yours and, to his greatest surprise, your small and cold fingers clenched around him. The physical contact almost immediately sent a wave of comforting warmth into your soul. John’s lips stretched in a caring smile and he replied to your sweet gesture by turning his hand to intertwine your fingers together.

That was definitely fine with you, for you knew that as long as John was around, there was no place for the storm.

Only for the sun.

A sun as bright as his smile.

“Get the fuck off my way.” Arthur’s gruff voice thundered in the hallway, followed by a noisy thud and Michael’s flourishing insults.

“Piss off, Arthur!” 

The tall gangster had been so eager to rejoin his sweet angel after two awful weeks of loneliness that he had shoved Michael right into the nearest wall for the sole reason that he had been walking too slowly for Arthur’s tastes.  All the while walking through the corridor, he had thrown his beret out of frustration and had brought his hands in his hair to nervously slick them back. He busted into the living room and his shiny steel blue eyes, sparkling with a gleam of hope, searched for you. 

“Hey, Arthur.” When your soft voice swirled in the room and reached his ear with the tone of a mesmeric siren’s chant, goosebumps of excitation appeared on Arthur’s skin. Moving your body with a wildcat’s grace from the sofa, you stood up and looked at your husband with an adorably shy smile, like a young bride seeing her groom for the very first time. All the confidence you’ve felt kinda disappeared now that you were standing in front of him — would he be happy to see you? Or did you deceive him by disobeying and coming back to town despite Changretta’s men lurking in the shadow? You hadn’t the time to think about the matter though for Arthur rushed to you without waiting any longer and, with an uncontrolled strength enhanced by the power of his overflowing emotions, hugged your little frame. The gangster then lifted you from the ground, causing a cry of surprise to break free from your plumped and glossy lips.

“Bloody Hell, angel! I’ve told ye to stay safe at home!” 

He said, putting you back on the ground right before cupping your face with his large, warm, and calloused hands, before you could even react, “I’ve told ye it was too fookin’ dangerous here! What if Changretta and his men would have attacked you on the train eh?!” He exclaimed, a bit more aggressively than intended. At first, you opened your mouth to reply but no sound came out. The sight of his pained eyes and his worried expression suddenly made you feel a bit guilty: if there was one thing you hated it was being the cause of his worries. “Hmm?!” He insisted when faced with your silence. His piercing blue iris dived into yours, looking in their celestial frost for the answer your mouth could not produce. 

“I— I don’t care. If you’re in trouble then I am too. If you fight, I fight. If you die, then I fucking die. We’re one, and I’m sick of acting like the good frail wife waiting for her husband to come back from the war,” You started, shaking yourself out of your silence; and the more you spoke, the more your confidence came back, backfiring, “I don’t care about the danger, Arthur.” A desperate smile stretched the corner of your lips, making your eyes squint a little bit. A smile both tainted with sadness and mad love, “The first time we met I’ve made the promise that you’ll never face Hell alone ever again and I don’t plan to back up now that we’re at its gates.” 

“Yer fookin’ crazy, I swear you are.” He replied. His eyes shone with dawning tears as he observed your holy pulchritude, “Out of yer goddamn mind, Heaven Shelby… Fookin’ bonkers.” His face relaxed, anger swept away by the winter breeze that had rushed into the living room through the open window. Arthur finally let out a nervous yet endeared little chuckle and shook his head in disbelief, "You're so much trouble eh."

“I’ve learned from you.” You straight off replied, gently pressing your forehead against his in this intimate gesture that was so proper to him. Yet, he didn’t reply right away, still shaken by your fierceness — these last two weeks had almost made him forget how untamable you were. He wanted to scold you for behaving in such a reckless way — He really did. But the truth was big bad Arthur Shelby couldn’t resist you. And God knew how hard it was to function without your heavenly and reassuring presence. If he had to be honest, he would admit that he wasn’t sure he could do it without you anymore. He was consumed by his love for you, body and soul.

A little sigh escaped from his lips as his boiling worries slowly faded away, drowning himself in the little details of your face. With trembling fingers, Arthur grazed your snow-white hair. Fuck, he had missed you bad. Very bad. To the extent of drinking himself to sleep almost every night and lashing out at the boxing ring, mercilessly beating his opponents, for these were the only ways he had found not to slip into pure insanity. 

“Angel —“ He started, wanting to say so many things at once, but words choked in his throat. Closing his mouth, Arthur swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did. The joy of having you there was so intense that his mind could not find something relevant to say: he wanted to talk about Tommy, about the letter he had sent you, about the Changrettas but nothing mattered anymore. What did though was you and him. That was why he finally gave up everything to hug your frame again, his spine bent so that he could bury his face in your small breasts. “I promise I’ll protect ye with me whole life, Angel. No one’s gonna hurt ye. Not on me watch.” He finally mumbled, the sound of his words muffled against the soft pale skin your cleavage exposed, thus turning his plead into more of a symphony of low grunts than anything else. 

“I’m here, darling.” You reassured him. Arthur squeezed your body a bit too painfully in reply, but you didn’t mind. The uncomfortable pressure of his brutal grip chased your worries away and made your whole soul flicker — It made you feel so tiny, so fragile, as no other men did before, and you genuinely liked it. So, he could break you in half with his hug if he wanted, you would be okay if it was the price to pay to keep feeling his possessive and aggressive love all around you.

With the desire to soothe his heated spirit and confusing thoughts that were bumping into each other in his confused head, you let your small fingers lose themselves in his messy hair. Your gesture brought immediate relief, whose warm sensation spread in his bones at the contact with your frozen skin. Arthur’s whole being gradually relaxed, and he could finally let out the pressure of these last two weeks. All of sudden, you felt salty and wet drops running down your chest, “I’ve fookin’ missed ye.” He lamented, his crystal tears dying in your cleavage. Parting from you was the worst idea ever, he thought, and he didn’t want to experience it ever again. 

“I’ve missed you too.” You said in a whisper. Ceasing to caress his hair, you put your hand on the back of his head and pressed his face a bit more against your bosom, keeping him still until his grip finally loosen around you and his tears run dry. Now that the storm of emotions was slowly calming down, Arthur sniffed one last time and raised his head, his lips reaching for yours. The press of his kiss, eager and hungry, dissipated the last couple of clouds of his troubled mind the moment your flesh reunited. Weakened by his scorching passion, your legs shook at the sweet and liquored taste of whisky on your tongue, while his strong hands explored you just as if the tall gangster wanted to make sure you were really here. To make sure he was not dreaming. His hands grabbed you, rubbed the sides of your thighs, ran up the curves of your ass, and then clenched on your shoulder blades for a short while before going down again to seize your waist in a bruising movement. You squeezed your eyes tighter, shaken to the core by the way his fingers left streams of fire in their trail, melting the ice that had settled under your skin the night he had left the house without you. Arthur deepened the kiss, almost leaving you breathless.

After an undefinable while during which you both lost the notion of time, his tongue gave yours one last stroke before he finally broke the kiss and reopened his eyes. Yes… You were still there — to his greatest relief. You let out a faint feverish sigh, the sensation of his kiss still tingling on your swollen lips, then you tilted your head to the side. Betrothed by your adorable pout, Arthur’s smile widened until the crow feet at the corner of his eyes appears. 

“Look at you. You’re fookin’ stunning, little one.” He laid his big hand on your cheek and you gently rubbed it against his palm in reply.

“What about you you tell me what you're up to instead of treating me like a little girl, Mr Shelby?” You teased, your reunion definitely erasing the worries out of your brain, even if the threat section D had sent you still lingered at the back of your mind. 

“Listen,” He started, his thumb brushing your lips with utter desire but he tried not to get too distracted by them, “John should have already told ye but you’re going to stay here ‘til Christmas hm? The house isn’t safe yet and you’ll be safer with Esme and the kids. Also, John will stick around to protect you. Just until Christmas right?”

“What about you?” You retorted, furrowing your brows. 

“As for me Tommy and I will figure out what to do. But don’t ye worry… " He brought his face closer, his mouth reaching your ear, "Each night I’ll be back in your arms and I’ll show ye how bad I’ve missed you.” He whispered, his low voice alike the growl of a starving wolf, “I'm a little afraid ye’ forgot what’s like to feel your husband, hmm.” A little amused snort came from your nostrils at the delightful perspectives. For sure, Arthur’s way to make up for the last two weeks of loneliness you’ve both been through was particularly exciting. 

“You think so? Little evil me is not so sure if she prefers Kaiser’s presence next to her in bed rather than yours. ” 

“We’ll see, love.” He was about to kiss you a second time to shut your bratty mouth when Esme appeared at the doorframe, arms crossed in her chest and one brow raised.

“There are kids there.” She reminded, her voice cold and slightly bothered. Of course, she wasn’t enchanted by your stay here, but it has been two years since you joined the Shelby family, which had given her all the time needed to tame her hostility toward you. Your relationship was still rocky, but at least she had stopped insulting you on every occasion. 

“Oops, sorry Esme.” You replied with the biggest and most charming smile you could do before taking a step back from your husband to help him —and you— resist the temptation of giving in to your burning desires. Arthur could not help but chuckle at the comment. He slipped his hands into the pocket of his long black coat, coming to the conclusion that it was safer if they stayed there.

“Alright, no need to bark Esme.” He grunted, but the sincerity of his grumpiness was definitely undermined by the faint smirk etched on his lips.

“I’ve made tea.” Esme went on, her magnificent brown eyes going from Arthur to you several times. Their dark color struck you for one second for their hard beauty reminded you of autumn leaves spinning in the immensity of her iris. You did not hate her. You never did. As harsh as her behavior had been, you had come to understand that her reactions were dictated by fear rather than spite. As a very catholic person, Esme was more than terrified by evil spirits — and she ultimately thought you were one, not seeing the enamored twenty-five-year-old girl you were, but the evil witch you could be. You could not blame her though, for she wasn’t entirely wrong. Somehow, you were convinced that Esme was the only one of the family who truly understood your dormant dangerous nature. What she did not grasp though was the sincerity of your feelings, “Hurry up.” She said, turning around and returning to the kitchen.

“Come on,” You gently wrapped your arms around your husband, “Kaiser is waiting in the kitchen. He’s going to be so happy!”

“Ah right, let’s see the man who took me place in bed.”

Arthur had barely stepped into the room when you heard the dog’s frantic barks, soon followed by his muscular body running toward his master to greet him with great enthusiasm. The sight of Kaiser almost reaching Arthur’s height, with his two front paws on his shoulders, filled you with joy.

It was at this very moment that you were almost convinced that nothing could go wrong.

The calm of the forest was a type of peacefulness nothing else could outmatch. All that was lacking from this grandiose landscape was the mighty shadow of the old and wise mountains of Haute-Falaise, whose silent lullaby could only be heard by those who paid close attention to it. From where you came, Christmas was always synonymous with snow along with the cold sensation of frosty wind biting at your face. Each time you would come back home after a joyful moment of playing games outside with your little sister, the warmth of the hearth’s fire would welcome you. But this Christmas, like many others since you left France, there was no snow. No mountains. And no little sister anymore. You were alone in the forest, wandering among the dead trees and the howling breeze.

Katie had woken up with a light fever, and she had cried in her father’s arms for twenty strong minutes before he managed to hush down her sorrow. Following a quick discussion with John, you informed him that you knew a natural remedy against fever and then, you went in the forest to collect the few plants you needed to concoct a healing tea. Esme would have naturally disagreed with the idea if John had told her, which hadn’t been the case. Instead, you simply replied that you needed some fresh air when she asked you why you were venturing outside the house on Christmas morning.

Oh, fuck it's you. Got nothing better to do on Christmas morning? // Tommy wants everybody at Charlie's Yard now, come on.

You’ve been wandering for over one hour when you finally found all the plants you needed for Katie’s tea. Satisfied, you headed back home with a light heart, already thinking about the pleasant breakfast that was waiting for you. A small grin flattered your lips at the thought of the children tearing their gifts’ paper apart and screaming with awe at the discovery of their new toys. 

What's gonna happen man, it's fucking Christmas.

Moreover, you could not wait for the adults to open their gifts too. Even if Ada told everyone to focus on the kids, you could not help but buy a little something for the house’s hosts: a beautiful silver necklace with a protective crystal pendant for Esme, and an expensive ring for John inside which was engraved the sentence “Le soleil brûle dans ton sourire” which meant "The sun burns in your smile". 

John. John, come to the meeting. All right? Think about the kids. Come to the meeting and if you want to leave, then fine.

For sure you could not wait to see their surprised expression slowly shifting to joy the moment you would give them their gifts! A little smile flattered your lips at such adorable thought. In truth, you had stopped celebrating Christmas for so long that the perspective to do it today delighted you. It was going to be a wonderful, wonderful day.

Get in the fuckin' house!

The petrifying detonations of gunshots tore the forest’s silence apart, which caused a cloud of afraid birds to erupt from the trees’ thick foliage. One shot, the surprise made you wonder if you had really heard that or if it was just the traumatizing memories of men chasing you down in the forest that was playing with your mind. Two shots, you turned towards where the noise was coming from, realizing it was real. Three shots — they stirred a brutal pain in your chest. A pain so vivid your fingers loosened their grips on the plants, letting them go, and grabbed the place where your heart was. It was drumming so hard in your chest that you felt it was about to burst your ribcage open. Crushed by the unexplainable ache and a crawling feeling of anxiety, you leaned against a tree not to collapse on the muddy soil. Your throat felt tight, to the extent you could barely breathe anymore. With eyes wide open, you desperately tried to calm yourself and comprehend what was happening to you. And suddenly the macabre evidence of the whole situation hit you like a train — a suffocating panic seized you again as you realized that the gunshots were not coming from hunters in the forest but from John's house.

No.

Your body moved slowly from the tree, taking a few wobbly steps.

“No!” Your voice yelled but no one was there to hear your desperate cry except the pristine nature, which had sent the wind to howl in pain with you. A surge of adrenaline ran through your body and, as if you had received the fiercest whiplash ever, you started running to the house as fast as you could. You ran faster and faster, with the cold breeze biting your face and brambles clawing at your exposed skin as you rushed past thick bushes. That was all you could do anyway for every other function of your being had shut down to focus only on your restless race. You could not think straight anymore. You could not hear anything else than the brutal beating of your heart resonating in your skull. Gosh, you couldn't even see properly, your vision narrowed into a small point in the horizon that was John's house. So you just ran, you ran no matter the insufferable burn in your lungs and the soreness of your legs.

"Hey! Come back, little doe". You could almost hear them behind you. The cruel men who hunted little thirteen years old you in the dark woods of Haute-Falaise. "We’re not gonna hurt you! Fuck — where’s that little slut?!"

Moving away the last branches aside, you jumped above a thick root and broke the last meters that separated you from the house. That was when you heard it, the agonizing scream of Esme. Her voice, filled with pain and fear, almost pierced your eardrums like the wailing lament of a Banshee. You reached the front of the house and suddenly, your legs made an abrupt stop, refusing to move anymore. In front of your wide-opened eyes, from which tears were already leaking, laid the inanimate body of both Michael and John in a crimson puddle of their own blood.

"John! Oh my God, John! No!" Esme yelled, her face contorting with indescribable sorrow and insufferable ache. She was kneeling on the pavement and hugging the motionless frame of her husband, whose skin already faded two shades paler. The young Romani beauty shook him but John's eyes remained shut. At first, you wanted to scream along with her, giving in to panic, but no sound came from your mouth. Instead, you let your quivering body drop to its knees and immediately put the moist palms of your hands on your best friend's wounded chest — The numerous bullet holes had made flowers of blood blossom on the white fabric of his shirt.

You took a deep breath, threw your head back, and closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to channel all the magic that was running in your blood to save him. After all, you had witnessed your mother performing similar miracles in your childhood. All you needed to save him was a faint beating of his heart, even the weakest would do the trick. Thus, you focused on your task the best you could and drained yourself of most of your energy in the hope of seeing John reopening his magnificent blue eyes and offering you one of his beaming smiles. You were pretty sure that he would come back to life, just like the bird you had found in the garden two years ago. Yes, you were going to bring him back to life, and this awful nightmare would be over and you would all have a good fairy tale ending.

— But life wasn't like the tales you loved: his heart had stopped beating for too long for you to do anything. It had been only a matter of minutes but still, you came too late.

You came too late.

When you understood it, a river of tears streamed down your angelic face. One of your hands gently moved up to his throat, and you pressed two fingers on his carotid artery to check his pulse in a desperate and last attempt to feel something, but there was nothing. Only the dull silence of Death. You slowly backed off and looked at the surprisingly peaceful expression on his face, forever frozen by the Reaper's cold kiss.

John was gone.

And so was the sun.

✞ A little note now that you've finished this chapter: Heaven did not ignore poor Michael by the way. When walking past him she noticed that his wound was not as serious as John's, so she decided to check him after checking John.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ gif by the amazing @fkmylif3

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader @alexandra-001 @dearshelby

[bluenpjm]

the kang code ✹ 4 — knj x oc

© bluenpjm | all rights reserved. do not repost, translate or claim as your own.

synopsis. when you can’t trust your instincts anymore, what do you turn to? 

genre. murder au + detective namjoon + angst + fluff 

pairing. knj + oc 

rating. M

wordcount. 1.8K

warnings. ignoring needed medical care + the entire stress of a killer being on the loose 

chapters. previous — four — next // new chapters every day at 00:00 KST

May 10th, 2022.

My head hurts like hell. The paramedics said I should go to the hospital. They said I might have a concussion. But I can’t. How did I let this happen? Right in front of my eyes… I should’ve been more careful. Now Hyori might be — no might be, that wasn’t a sick joke. She is in danger. And all because of me. I will find her in time. Even if it is the last thing I do.

If Namjoon had stopped to think about the current situation he found himself in, he would probably consider the possibility of admitting himself to psychiatric arrest. This… this sudden behavior of his was very much out of character. This foolish thinking. Or better yet, this lack of thinking. At all. He was always analytical. Despite being sentimental and empathic. Although, his profession had quickly taken a tool on his soft side. Everyone was a suspect. Everyone. 

So this sudden connection with Hyori was... strange, to say the least. 

He would be lying if he were to say that he hadn't had this kind of platonic passion. Just a beautiful stranger that he would sometimes pass by in the street. A mind that seemed to match his on a deeper level. The scenarios he painted. His lack of social life would often make him reminisce — despite feeling very much empty — about the different outcomes that could happen to him. Only if he was brave enough to follow his feelings. To act on impulse. Be the guy from the movie that gets the girl. The guy that risks everything and still has his way in the end. 

But that had proven foolish. And it was a basic rule from the academy. Always focus on the evidence. Don't let your feelings get in the way. 

So to see Hyori come so swiftly into his life... If it could even be described as that. Such a short period of time had passed. Today was his fourth day in Busan, after all. And in that span of time, she had been the only thing in his mind. The thing that would make him relax when he became too anxious about the case he had been presented with. She was always there. The scenarios he had imagined before with strangers. But this time he had a name for the beautiful face. From the moment he would open his eyes and sometimes even while he had them close. Still, something in him told him she was more than that — that if he took the risk, she would mean more than a silly crush. Despite that, he was too stiff to follow his gut. Too scared. So, for the time being, he had decided to keep on dreaming — with her. 

Just like last night.

After waking up in the alley where he had last seen Hyori, he managed to walk back until he saw someone. He didn't have his phone with him. His notebook was gone, too. His badge... and then it hit him. The sudden weight he had been so accustomed to… His gun wasn’t perfectly attached to his belt anymore. He was in big trouble. He wasn't even supposed to have it in him. So far away from his jurisdiction… What was he thinking? The thing that at the beginning of the day had made him feel safer now was making him feel like he could faint at any time, his stomach swirling with the uncertainty of what his future would look like. For a second — and a second, really — he even pondered hiding such an important fact. He wasn’t that much of a coward, though. 

It had taken him crucial time to get help to the alley. And when Seokjin finally appeared, followed by two other patrol cars, Namjoon was losing it. 

Pacing back and forth, he tried his best to remember everything. Eventually, the paramedics had already given up trying to clean his wound. Seokjin was sitting on the ambulance, feet swaying, scrapping lightly on the asphalt. At the moment, he was more concerned with his friend's state than the information he was giving. Namjoon wasn’t one to lose his cool like that. And seeing him like that… well, let’s say it was making Seokjin question his stance on the case.

“Alright, Joon.” Seokjin finally gets up from the ambulance, his hand finding a place on Namjoon's shoulder. “Let's get you checked up first and then we can work with that.”

“No. It's been hours Jin. You know these are the most important. We need to move. Have people on the ground. They were in a van. By now they could be anywhere!” Namjoon raises his voice. 

“I know. And we are going to find her. For all we know, this could even be a trap.” It was funny how Seokjin had suddenly become the rational one of the two. And even more so, how such a simple astute comment had Namjoon fuming. 

“Fuck Jin. I got the note. He was watching me. And he was watching her.”

Seokjin sighs. “I believe you. But we need to do this smart. We don't know anything. Even if she's really a victim.”

Namjoon hadn't been able to shut his eyes. He was sitting by Seokjin's desk, eyes quickly yet carefully scanning the pictures in his hands. It didn't feel the same as analyzing his rough sketches in his notebook. His head was pounding, still, and it felt harder and harder to focus. Despite that, he was trying his best to focus.

Lifting his eyes from the printed paper, he saw Seokjin in the glass room, drawings on a whiteboard as tables were filled with officers in uniform. He was giving them the tactical move, the profile of the killer — which, if Namjoon could be honest, was very much still a blur in everyone's mind. 

Seokjin was trying to keep him away from the investigation. The reaction his old friend had was far from great. He couldn't quite understand why, but something made Namjoon's mind foggy when it came to the killer and the woman missing, and having him, in such a state, was a risk Seokjin couldn't and wouldn't take.

His eyes fall back to the papers in his hand. There was something hidden in the messages... Namjoon was certain of it. He wished he could have his notebook with him. There were so many notes written on the side of the pages, that he was certain he would already have some sort of thought formed about the case. Something that would help. 

Displaying all the pictures on the desk, he grabs the post-its, writing down the deciphered version and sticking them on top of the respective image. 

Can you solve this? Kang is my name. Next kill is in 24 hours.

Was I sloppy? I think not. Can you catch me? Or will I kill again?

And, of course, the one he had received the afternoon of the day before. The one no one seemed to believe he had seen. 

You are so easy to find. Are you taking the right steps? Think again, pig. No one is safe. Tictoc.

The highlighted words in each message made less and less sense to him. 

24 hours.

You. Will. Kill.

You. Find. The. Right. Steps. Tictoc.

There had to be some sort of hidden message. Namjoon was certain of it. But he couldn't figure it out. If he could... by now Hyori could be safe and sound and the killer would have been stopped, put behind bars, where he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone, anymore. 

He sighs heavily, gaining some looks from the officers at the nearby desks. He gives them a small smile, fingers finding his hair. For a moment, he rests his hands there. His mind is absolutely blank as he stares at the papers. 

Readjusting his position on the chair, he furrows his brows. Let’s do this, he thinks.

There were two indicators of time. The 24 hours and the tictoc. But truth be told, those could mean anything. Hyori's voice echoes in his mind, as she points out all the different meanings the number could have. A date, a time, a street name… And following his gut, he decides to look up the maps of the area. 

“Seokjin!” He calls out, seeing the man leaving the glass room. “I think I may have something.”

“That’s my man!” Seokjin pats his back, before leaning next to him, ready to take in all the information. 

“See here-” Namjoon points at the red crosses on the map. “These were where the two victims were found. And here, this street… it could be a long way, but hear me out.” 

Namjoon grabs the papers from the desk with the first cipher. 

“We immediately assumed this was an hour- you know because the second body showed up just a day after. But what if it isn’t?” 

“What is it then?” Seokjin makes a somewhat confused face. 

“A street,” Namjoon says brightly. 

“Did you pull satellite images yet?” 

“I did.” Clicking on the computer, he continues his explanation. “This street stands perfectly between the two alleys. There isn’t a number 24, I checked. But there’s a series of abandoned houses that could be the perfect spot. There’s also no surveillance on some routes he could’ve taken. Only on the main street but considering the van, he could easily slip the bodies in and drop them later.” 

Seokjin nods, hand finding his chin as he caresses it, thinking hard. 

“Perfect. If he has the woman, she will be there. Otherwise, it would be unnecessary far. Stupid even.” Seokjin concludes, a pleased smile on his face. “I mean, he is about to get caught, so he can’t be that smart.” 

Namjoon begins to get up from the chair, right after Seokjin. “I agree.” He chuckles. 

“You should stay here.” Seokjin’s hand stops Namjoon, resting on his shoulder and the smile the former had on his lips is quick to fade. “You’re our brains. If you think of anything else, just let me know, yeah?” 

Namjoon can’t help but just nod, his lips pressed tightly as all he wanted to do was oppose the leading detective’s order. He slumps in the chair, chin resting on his balled fist. He watches all the officers follow Seokjin into the garage. Namjoon feels useless. 

An hour goes by and through the communicator, Namjoon listens attentively. He left the main area, secluding himself in the break room. By now, all the buildings begin to be scavenged by Seokjin and the rest of the officers. He listens, one by one, as each update comes out as a failure. Empty houses. And nothing but the growing pain in Namjoon’s chest. 

“Mr. Kim,” an officer knocks on the door. “There’s a package for you. At the front desk.” 

“For me?” Namjoon frowns but is already getting up. 

A craft package is handed to him as soon as he reaches the counter. 형사 김남준 is written on the front, in big, bold, red letters. He thanked the officer, before returning to the break room. He fights the urge to open it, a feeling of whom it might be from. 

[ chapter five ]

[abbynx]

L-word

Ghiaccio X Reader

Genre: Romance, fluff

Warning: Language

A/N: I love him, your honour

You've been dating for a year now, taking a slow, yet steady pace into consideration even for a man who lives fast but he truly did make an effort to take things slow... Too slow apparently, that he hasn't said the l-word and it's starting to bother him that you might think that he doesn't love you— of course he does! Does he need to tell you that?! Were the roses not enough?! It's the florist's fault why to WITHERED TOO QUICK AND— Oh yeah, he forgot that he simply can't blame everyone for this small inconvenience of his, my bad.

"It's simple, all you gotta do is tell them you love them. Easy enough."

Spoiler alert, it wasn't. For a vocally expressive man who has no trouble getting out whatever he wants to say, whether expressing his vexation towards people butchering words or idiomatic expressions that doesn't seem to make sense and yet he can't get out the l-word for you.

At first, yes, he thought it was dumb. I mean, he prefer to show it through actions rather than saying anything really but it really got him thinking... How you would daze off watching romantic movies with him (as much they make his face contort into disgust, he watched it for you sake to bond with you), the way you smiled when the l-word is uttered between poorly developed characters forced into a relationship by writers who followed the trend of making male and female platonic relationship nonexistent... But that doesn't matter, what matter is the soft smile lighting your features, the utter astonishment and pure adoration of the on-screen couple's romantic exchange of the l-word... Well, that really got him thinking.

As a couple, well, you two were compatible that's for sure (according to how Melone would describe it). You're patient, kind and most importantly, composed. Basically, something he is not. But on a positive note, ever since the beginning of your relationship, you were able to keep him in check. Calm him down, reassure him, have his back all the good stuff and for that, he truly does appreciate you for it and tries his utmost best to reciprocate the love and care you provide him.

As for the origin of your relationship... Well... It started with his very first mission. He was fresh meat at that time and so were you, about a month into the Mafioso schtick, but you have a month-worth of experience that was good enough to be assigned to a very minor mission to show him around the ropes. It was a simple retrieve-and-leave type of deal, simple enough. It wasn't even a life or death situation like Ghiaccio envisioned. He was told this was also the very first mission you've been assigned to last month, and you knew how the transaction goes. The mafia is anything but easy, and true to that word, the mission was more cathartic than you expected. Guns were fired, Stands were summoned, a bullet pierces through your thigh courtesy of the fresh boy who pulled the trigger at the wrong time. Despite of how bad it sounded, you succeeded the mission.

From then on, you were just there for him for as long as he can remember ever since he joined La Squadra. There was a mutual bond and he knows you felt the same too, so why not mutually join together as... Well, something. It took about three months before you labelled your relationship and made it official, and as I've said before he likes to take it slow, bla bla bla you get the point.

He truly values your comfort, coming onto you and telling you straight up that he knows the way you look at him was already inconsiderate of him and he regretted it... But can he really regret something he did a year ago that lead to a relationship that he wouldn't know what to do if it ever ended? You are everything to him. You were the only one who had an effect to him. If ever he got upset, mulling over dumb inaccuracies in history, you'd be there listening attentively. It was a small act, but a big deal. You were there, listening, caring about him and loving him despite his nature of being so brash. If ever he found himself in a temperamental outpour, seeing you was enough for the flame in his heart to settle down. It's as if he was conditioned to calm down at the face of your presence and that's just how you got a major effect on him.

He loves you, he truly does. He just couldn't say it and he doesn't particularly know why. It's just three words! I love—

"Hey Ghia, are you okay?" You rang beside him, your soft features looking up to him with concern. "You've been staring at me for like... A minute now. Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing." He clears his throat, his averted eyes awkwardly darting back to you. "You looked unconvinced, why's that?" He raises a brow at you.

"No, it's not that. But um..." You pause, choosing your words carefully. "If you want to tell me something, just tell me."

"Sure, whatever." He rolls his eyes, and waits until you turn away from him.

His face softens at the sight of you being reabsorbed into the romance displayed on television, probably replacing the actors with yours and his face with that dumb dazed grin.

He huffs irritatingly. At himself, of course, not you. It's not really your fault that he's frustrated with himself for being unable to say I lo—... I... I love—... Love y— you get it!

Ugh damn these thoughts.

He tries to shake them off by diverting himself— finding himself watching the TV with you only to be greeted by the sight of the on-screen couple pulling away from a kiss... Muttering 'i love you's' whilst under the influence of the intoxication of their lips entanglement.

His mouth parts— when it abruptly closes.

Within his cold hand, was your warm ones. Your fingers latched between his, gripping firmly. You remain fixated on the TV, whilst you were unaware of the messy pile of melting ice boy beside you.

Red in the face, he accepts his fate in your hands. His tensed form grew lax, giving you an equally firm grip. He wasn't well-aware of the smile he has in his face at the duration of everything, but his heart was certainly aflutter.

At this points, who needs words? Talkers are overrated anyways... But he'd love to say the l-word to you someday...

Well, looks like we'll get 'em next time.

[snackhobi]

pairing: hoseok x reader / word count: 26.8k / genre: fluff, smut, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, slow burn, technically a buzzfeed unsolved AU but you don’t need to be familiar with BFU at all so dw!

summary: having hoseok as your best friend and co-host for your web series is a dream come true. the only hitch? you’re kind of in love with him, and it’s getting harder to ignore that fact, even if he doesn’t feel the same for you. 

warnings: idiots being oblivious, sexually explicit content, oral (f receiving + brief mentions of m receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), body worship + praise (f receiving), a lot of soft emotions and pet names, hoseok treating reader like a pillow princess

a/n: the more I read this the less happy I am with it but after the amount of time I’ve spent on it/how long it’s gotten, I’m calling it finished (even if it’s a lot lighter on paranormal related stuff than I’d initially planned OOPS...) please feel free to let me know what you think AHH x

--

Jung Hoseok is a lot of things. 

Jung Hoseok is: a work-friend-turned-real-friend-turned-best-friend, and one of your favourite people in the world. 

Jung Hoseok is: very easily scared, the opposite of a thrillseeker, Not A Fan of big rollercoasters, or haunted houses, or anywhere that involves jump scares or loud noises or anything vaguely dangerous or threatening. 

Jung Hoseok is: a man with ridiculous lung capacity who can also screech so loudly that you’re fairly certain he could shatter glass if he wanted to.

“It’s just a bat, hyung,” Jimin says, before the bat comes back round and Hoseok shrieks again.

Jung Hoseok is: clinging to you with a vice-like grip as aforementioned bat flutters above you, squeaking and trilling, and you stroke his hand in an absent, instinctual motion, trying to soothe him.

“I definitely heard footsteps as well,” Hoseok whimpers. “Why are we here?” 

Why are you here? Well, because Jung Hoseok is also: your co-host for one of BigHit’s most popular series, BigHit Unsolved.

It’s funny, in a roundabout sort of way, that Hoseok’s general fear of Most Things had been the thing that had cinched him his spot. You’d never expected Unsolved to explode in the way it had, starting off as a short video series with Yoongi beside you to bounce off as you described unsolved crimes, but then Hoseok had starred opposite you and the audience had just eaten it up: the way he got spooked at real life events, the modulation of his voice when it would rise or dip in fear, the way you riffed off each other- you, calm but enthused about your topic, and Hoseok, a quivering jelly of a man when scared.

Not to mention that Hoseok is just great on screen anyway, personable and bright and charming. He makes you laugh and brings out a level of exuberance in you in a way that no one else can, makes you do ridiculous things without even trying- your interactions are good video fodder, basically, and your audience loves how your friendship comes across on the show. 

And that’s another funny thing. You’d known Hoseok before Unsolved, of course, because everyone knows Hoseok, because Hoseok is wonderful, a sunshine of a man, loved by all. You, however, hadn't really spoken much to him- when you'd started at BigHit you'd been crushing on Hoseok in kind of a big way and you'd been worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him, so… you'd done the logical thing of avoiding him as much as was possible without being rude or weird. Face your problems and anxieties? In this economy? Haha, you don't think so.

Anyway. Because of this, your interactions had been pretty limited up until you’d asked him to appear in one of your videos. If anyone asked it was because you’d thought he would be a fun, one-off guest star, which was true, but the main reason was that Yoongi had cancelled because he was sick and no one else had been free when you’d been scrabbling around the office for a replacement. Despite not knowing you all too well, and despite being scared easily by true crime (“my mum watched CSI when I was a kid and it gave nightmares,” he’d told you afterwards), Hoseok had heard about your plight and was happy to replace Yoongi for the episode, and you’d found out that- despite your initial worry that you were going to make things weird- you get on really well.

Like, really well. Not just on camera, either. Before they’d started to roll, you’d been frantically making sure everything was in place, that you had all your notes, that all the pre-production was ready- and Hoseok had made you stand still, taking your hands in his, and he’d smiled at you in a way that had been so warm and comforting that all the tension had leaked out of you. After that it had just been so easy. You’d felt relaxed and the episode had come out great, and then Hoseok suggested that you grab lunch together in the cafeteria so you could get to know each other more. Of course you’d agreed- and the rest is history.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to turn from a nice and funny colleague, to someone you actively looked for at work gatherings, to someone who you decided to ask to be your permanent co-host for the show, to someone who now has a spare key for your flat in case he ever runs out of snacks or just feels like dropping by. Which he feels like doing a lot, apparently, but you have a key for his place too, so it’s all even stevens. (You steal a lot of his face masks whenever you visit him and he never complains.)

Over time your huge crush on Hoseok has ebbed into a deep platonic love, fading and morphing into a comfortable friendship. Okay, sure, you still think he’s the most beautiful person in the universe and you’d immediately accept if he asked you to marry him and you kind of want to kiss him on the mouth sometimes (a lot of the time) or whatever, but that’s because you know how wonderful he is. It’s platonic. Not romantic. Mmhm. (Mostly.) Either way, you're completely comfortable around him despite any lingering feelings you might have, which is something you appreciate more than you can put into words.

So fast forward to now, multiple seasons into your show, and you’re more than used to Hoseok’s fear and touch. It had been startling, at the beginning, when Hoseok had grabbed onto you whenever he was afraid, but now you’re used to navigating places in the dark while Hoseok clings onto you like a particularly oversized backpack or holds your hand like a lost school child. (You’ve lost count of the minutes, nay, hours of footage that exist of Hoseok doing this, like some sort of gangly limpet, but you don’t mind.) Fans love to splice together footage comparing interactions over the seasons and it’s very obvious how wide eyed and stiff you used to go whenever Hoseok seized you, but now? This is your every day, baby.

Hoseok is still cowering behind you as the lone bat flaps above you, high up in the rafters of the old generator building you’re standing in. You and your crew and your guide are the only people at the abandoned gold mine, so Hoseok can’t have heard footsteps, other than your own- which is what you tell him.

“I think it was the building settling, Hobi,” you say. “This mining warehouse is pretty old.”

“Old and full of ghosts.” Hoseok moans. Jimin readjusts the camera and you know that, without a doubt, he’s zooming in on Hoseok’s terrified face. Namjoon’ll have some fun shots to edit later. Jimin is a very capable cameraman, and also unruffled by ghosts/loud noises/etc, but he does love to catch some interesting angles of the two of you. At least Taehyung refrains from doing that, although he does sometimes get too focused on making a shot artistic rather than capturing the abject terror on Hoseok’s face when it would be a good clip for the final video.  

“Well, we don’t know that.” You pause. “Maybe we should test it with the spirit box to find out?”

Hoseok’s face twists and you can’t help but laugh.

The supernatural half of the show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Your fans enjoyed his eternal suffering and fear whenever anything remotely spooky was mentioned, so they'd bandied about the idea of a paranormal-themed season and you'd taken the idea on board; the juxtaposition between yourself and your co-host was all the more defined when he was banshee shrieking at some innocuous sound while you stayed calm. You’re open to the concept of the supernatural but have yet to come across any evidence that you find compelling enough to make you a believer, while Hoseok is convinced in the existence of ghosts and finds the idea terrifying.

He doesn’t like the spirit box because of this, but you don’t mind it- although you don't really like the loud static it makes when it’s scanning through radio frequencies, trying to pick up if any spirits or ghouls are trying to talk to you. (They’re not, even if Hoseok insists that the random bursts of sound it spits out are definitely coherent words and sentences, rather than a mish-mash of random rubbish that it just happens to pick from normal radio waves.)

The spirit box, of course, is about as interesting as normal: that is to say, not really at all, though you have a good laugh after you ask for any spirits to give you a name and the only response is ‘pineapple pie’, which makes you feel hungry. Hoseok lets you rummage around in his pocket for a cereal bar, which you end up munching on between shots, as Hoseok swats bugs away from your faces. He attempts to karate chop a mosquito but misses by miles and you almost choke on a mouthful of oats as he makes the world’s most incredulous face and you giggle.

“We should make pineapple pie for a video at some point,” you suggest, and Hoseok is briefly distracted from his fear- he’d given up on the bugs and has been shining his torch over your shoulder at some old generator equipment and casting warped shadows on the walls behind it, dark silhouettes that could admittedly be considered a little spooky. “I’ve never had pineapple pie before.”

“There’s a Filipino bakery near our place that sells it!” Taehyung jumps in before Hoseok can respond, turning away from where he and Jimin have been making shadow puppets on the wall with their own torches. “It’s so good, you should definitely do it.”

Hoseok hums. “Jin-hyung would probably be happy to help out,” he says. You finish the cereal bar and tuck the wrapper back into Hoseok’s pocket, making a mental note to get in touch with the Tasty team member to ask him about it. He’ll leap at the opportunity. 

There’s a clattering noise somewhere far in the distance, probably rocks shifting or something, and Hoseok squeaks and crowds even closer to you, as impossible as that is with how he’s already wrapped around your back at this point, the harness for his chest-mounted camera digging into your spine. It’s a familiar sensation by this point. “Please can we get out of here now?”

“Sure,” you say indulgently, stroking Hoseok’s arm where it’s wrapped around your collarbones. “We need to drive down to the mining tunnels now anyway.”

Hoseok keeps hold of your hand as your guide drives you to your location, squeezing your fingers every time the car goes over a bump- which is pretty often on the rocky dirt track. Hoseok’s fairly touchy in general, always holding hands or hugging or kissing people, raining little pecks over their faces, and it had been Very Overwhelming when he’d first turned this attention to you. You’re not, like, not touchy, but back in season 1 you were definitely not used to spending time with someone who loves skinship as much as Hoseok does, and it had taken time for you to stop freezing up every time he casually touched or grabbed you.

It says a lot about how used you are to it now that you don’t even bat an eyelid when he wriggles into your twin bed at the hotel later, curling up around you once he’s finished his meticulous skincare routine.  “Your bed is over there, Hobi,” you say, although you immediately snuggle back into him, letting him spoon you. He’s always a lot clingier after you finish filming a supernatural episode- as if you can ward off any ghosts that might have decided to hitch a ride back from wherever you’d come from.

“I know,” Hoseok replies. He hitches a leg over yours, sighing happily when you reach an arm down to rub his calves. He always sleeps better if you massage him.

“I can’t wait to get home.” You dig your fingers into a muscle and Hoseok squirms a little. You huff out a laugh. “Arizona is so hot.”

“You look cute in shorts, though,” Hoseok says. He’s been saying the same thing all day.

“You just like shorts.” He’d been wearing shorts too, pretty much matching his clothes to yours; at this point you’re starting to wonder if he looks through your luggage before he packs his own stuff, because your outfits end up being eerily similar a lot of the time. You think he finds it reassuring, maybe, when you’re somewhere unfamiliar. Or maybe it’s because Hoseok’s fashion has influenced your own over the years. You definitely own a lot more bright clothing than you used to, not to mention the matching items you’ve both purchased together anyway.

Now that you think about it, Hoseok really has been a big influence on you, huh.

He falls asleep pretty soon after, going lax and limp as his breaths deepen and he dozes off. He always falls asleep before you do, awake one second and flat out the next; you envy his ability to drop off like that, usually taking a lot longer yourself, but you do find it good that he’s able to sleep so quickly despite his earlier fear. He always crashes at yours after you finish filming an episode when you’re home, too, otherwise he says he’s up all night with the fear- this is all part and parcel of Hoseok being your co-host and partner on the show, and honestly, you don’t mind it at all.

So you're used to this. When Hoseok makes a little noise in his sleep and starts shifting behind you, you lift his hand to your mouth and gently kiss his knuckles, running your thumb down his wrist- he settles immediately, going lax again. You'll chase away any nightmares with soft touches, shuffling around in his grip and holding him tight if you need to, before eventually drifting off yourself, safe and warm in the circle of his arms.

Even though you usually fall asleep after Hoseok, one thing you have over him is the fact you’re a morning person and find it a lot easier to get up with the sun. Despite your late night, you’re awake moments before your phone alarm starts to ring, turning it off before it can rouse Hoseok out of his sleep. When you slide out of the bed he stirs a little, instinctively reaching out for you in his sleep, and you carefully put a pillow in his arms so he can hold onto that instead; he settles down once he has the pillow hugged to his chest, and you take a moment to look at him fondly and gently kiss his forehead before you start to get ready for the day.

You’re pretty much done by the time Hoseok sits up at the sound of his own alarm, blinking blearily in your direction as you turn it off for him. He’s still holding onto the pillow as he sits up.

“Morning, honey,” you chirp. “You want coffee?”

Hoseok stares at you for a second, eyes squinting as he tries to wake up fully. “Morning,” he replies, voice hoarse from sleep, and you smile. “Please.”

When you’d first found out that Hoseok wasn’t a morning person, you’d honestly been gobsmacked. He’s just so bright and energetic that you figured he rolled out of bed like that- it just makes sense- but it actually takes him a surprisingly long time to get fully up to speed with his normal self. He’s a little slower, a little softer, draping himself over your back as you fiddle with the room's coffee machine to try and get some caffeine into him.

“We can always get some more at the airport,” you say conversationally, and Hoseok hums quietly into your hair before dropping a kiss there. “It’s a shame we don’t have time to eat at the breakfast buffet.” 

Despite his morning slowness, he’s still ready on time; he’s always punctual, is your Hoseok. You make up for missing breakfast at the hotel by purchasing tons of snacks for the flight to Pennsylvania, munching a pre-wrapped croissant as you read off your phone while Jimin dozes next to you, his head resting against the window. You’re sandwiched between him and Hoseok, who has the aisle seat- he cranes his head at your pastry and you tilt it against his lips so he can take a bite. You end up with a lapful of crumbs, but that’s okay. 

“So where are we off to next?” Hoseok asks once he’s done chewing, peering at your phone screen. Across the aisle from you, Taehyung very loudly unwraps a pain au chocolat, much to the irritation of the woman next to him. 

“We’re going to an old prison,” you say, and Hoseok meeps. “A penitentiary, to be exact.”

Taehyung shoves the pain au chocolat into his mouth whole so he has his hands free, fumbling for his phone as he starts to film how the colour drains from Hoseok’s face as you give him a brief synopsis of the prison and other places you’ll be going to while in Pennsylvania. This isn’t even for Unsolved; Taehyung just likes to have video evidence and receipts for everything, if his camera reel is anything to go by. Even though you’re vague with your descriptions- you like Hoseok’s reaction on camera to be as unscripted and natural as it can possibly be, when you finally turn up at your locations and then set up so that you can talk about it- once you’re finished, Hoseok is curled up against you, hiding his face in your neck.

“Why can’t we go somewhere nice for once?” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Budget doesn’t cover it, that’s why we have to sleep at haunted hotels. They’re cheaper.” Hoseok meeps again, and you relent, lifting your hand to cup the back of his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you,” you say, stroking his hair as you use your free hand to clumsily scroll through your phone, double checking the details of your planned trip.

“I know.” Hoseok is uncharacteristically quiet against your collarbones. Taehyung gives up filming and rips into another pain au chocolat packet, smiling guiltily at his seat neighbour when she tuts at him. “You never do.”

Despite Hoseok’s fear of a lot of things related to the show, and the fact he jumps and screams at pretty much everything, he’s never asked to bow out or avoid doing something. He even agrees to go into areas alone when the two of you try to ‘make contact’ with spirits, even though he’s obviously terrified- but each and every time before you part, you promise that you’re not going anywhere and you’ll be waiting right outside for him. You would never abandon Hoseok (even though ghosts probably aren’t real and he has nothing to worry about), and he knows that, and takes strength from it. It warms you.

He keeps his head nestled against your neck for a beat longer, and then smacks a loud kiss against your skin, which makes you squeal and slap him away while he laughs. 

--

As fun as it is to jet around the country- especially with Hoseok and the other guys- it's also exhausting, and there’s always something nice about coming home. Even though the increased budget that you’ve been allocated as the show’s been growing in popularity means that you can stay at nicer hotels now, your own bed is still the most comfortable place in the world. (Well, tied with Hoseok’s bed, thinking about it. The two are basically interchangeable at this point anyway, if you consider how often Hoseok ends up sleeping at your apartment and squirreling his way under your blankets as you’re trying to sleep.)

On the other hand, though, in spite of a return to your regular creature comforts, coming home still involves work: there are Q&As to be filmed, footage to edit, later episodes to plan, research to be done. As the original progenitor of Unsolved you take the brunt of the last two parts; Hoseok is the one who reacts to the facts you throw out, he’s not the one who investigates the different things you talk about on the show, but he’s always there to support you and talk to you whenever you need it. 

(Your audience knows Hoseok as someone who is cute and bright and cheerful, but he’s also quietly thoughtful and surprisingly serious when he has to be. That’s the side of him that you get to see whenever you stay late at the office, your desk lamp the only one left on in the room, hunched over your keyboard as you trawl through conspiracy threads in the deep bowels of the internet that are discussing who D.B. Cooper is. You love loud Hoseok, of course, but you appreciate this hushed part of him, too- the way he'll deliver you a hot chocolate with a kiss to your forehead before quietly sitting beside you and waiting for you to finish so he can take you home.)

Anyway. Coming home means coming back to the office, means putting in shifts at BigHit headquarters, etc, etc, all that jazz, so here you are, sitting on Hoseok’s lap and scrolling through your tablet as he does something of his own on his PC. The first time this had happened, it had raised eyebrows- not because it was considered inappropriate or anything, as BigHit is the kind of place where people can make out in hallways to ‘test the longevity of this 24 hour lipstick’ for a video and no one bats an eyelash, but because up until this point, you’d been renowned for pretty much being glued to your desk while working. But you like Hoseok and his energy, even when he’s not doing anything, and his lap is comfortable, even if he doesn’t exactly have the world’s thickest thighs. You work better when you’re around him. 

You’re scrolling through Instagram comments for questions to answer in this week’s Q&A episode when someone clears their throat. Both you and Hoseok look up in tandem to find Seokjin standing there, looking decidedly more grey-haired than he had the last time you’d seen him. He pulls it off effortlessly, of course. 

“What’s up, silver fox?” You let your tablet droop into your lap as Hoseok takes his hands off his mouse and keyboard and secures them around your waist instead, so you don’t slide off his legs. His hands are warm where they splay across your stomach and you can feel the bumps and texture of his bracelets through the material of your shirt. “Liking the new look, by the way.”

“You look really good, Jin-hyung,” Hoseok says from over your shoulder, and you nod in agreement.

“I know.” Jin sounds flippant but he seems pleased. He doesn’t say anything more than that, though, and just looks at the two of you expectantly. You both blink back at him.

“So… did you come over just to be complimented, or?” You slowly start to lift your tablet, acting as if you’re about to start reading off your screen again. “Were the thirsty comments on your latest video not enough for you today?”

Jin raises an eyebrow as he pretends to inspect his nails. “No, no, there were plenty of comments, as always,” he says loftily. Unsurprising, considering his unofficial(/basically official) title of Most Handsome Face in the office as well as the leagues of fans he has. He lets his hand drop as he quickly gives up pretending to be aloof. “So when are you planning to fit making pineapple pie into your schedule?”

“Oh!” Hoseok squeezes you in his excitement and you wiggle a little in his lap. “I almost forgot about that! Did Tae mention it to you?”

“Jimin too. They burst into the kitchen while I was filming and they were both holding a piece of Filipino pineapple pie aloft like they were wielding Excalibur, so, yes, you can say that it was mentioned,” Jin says, and you can’t help but wince. Being interrupted while filming is one thing, but the Tasty studio can be hazardous on top of that (y’know, what with the knives and fire and stuff), so you can only hope that Jin wasn’t using a mandolin or something when they had appeared. 

“Oof.” You wiggle your hips again and Hoseok immediately catches your drift, turning his chair so the two of you are facing Jin fully rather than having to turn your heads to look at him. Jin makes a weird expression, something you can’t put a name to, but it slips away too fast for you to catch properly- maybe he just had a sudden chill or something, who knows. “Sorry about them. How about I email you our filming schedule and you can see when you’re free as well? We were going to film a 70th episode retrospective soon and the pineapple pie video might be a nice sort of bonus on top of that.”

Jin agrees easily. You use your tablet to open the Google Calendar that you have with Hoseok, which makes Jin pause when he notices. “You share a GCal?”

“Duh?” You flick a look at Jin through your lashes. You and Hoseok have GCal where you input your work schedules to avoid potential clashes when you need to film together, but you also put in other plans the two of you have outside of work, if it’s ever necessary. “Why wouldn’t we? It makes it easier when we need to plan things for Unsolved.”

“Uh-huh.” Jin sounds sceptical, but you decide not to address it. You miss the look he gives Hoseok as you scroll through your calendar, the two men having a silent exchange as you start to draft an email. Somewhere across the office you hear Yoongi shout out an expletive and two sets of cackling laughter that sound suspiciously like Taehyung and Jungkook; you and Hoseok turn at the sound, but you don’t spot anything from where you’re sat. “Alright, I think that’s my cue to leave,” Jin says, and promptly dips before he gets dragged into whatever’s going on.

Whatever shenanigans Jungkook and Taehyung have gotten up to seem to be pinpointed to one area, so you avoid any fall out, and Hoseok eventually excuses himself to go to the toilet. You take over his chair while he’s gone. Asides from yourself, both computers at this desk are entirely abandoned- Yoongi is still absent, nowhere to be seen- and you’re tapping away at your tablet when all of a sudden you have a camera shoved in your face. 

For once it’s not Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook, and instead when you look up you see Irene and Seulgi, the latter girl beaming at you while Irene holds the camera. Seulgi says your name and points at you with a perfectly manicured nail, and you blink at her, completely caught off guard. Irene zooms in on your bewildered expression.

“Um, hey guys,” you say. “What’s up? Need me for something?”

“We wanted to ask if you wanted to guest star in the next Ladylike video!” Seulgi chirps brightly, and you’re immediately on guard. While the offer seems innocent enough on the surface you can’t help but wonder if the next video is one of their wilder ones (you don’t care if the underwear is silver-infused and apparently wicks away smell and moisture, you flat out refuse to wear the same panties for a whole week). Fortunately your fears are assuaged when Seulgi seems to read your mind and answers your question before you have the chance to ask it. “We’re trying to recreate elaborate Instagram makeup looks with dollar store makeup.”

Irene giggles behind the camera when you visibly relax. “I’m in, that sounds fun,” you say, and both girls seem inordinately pleased. “Um, when are you planning to shoot it?”

“Tomorrow! It won’t take long, we promise,” Seulgi says. “You just need to be free for filming, we’ll do all the editing and stuff.”

You finalise the exact time you need to be available by and by the time Hoseok comes back from the toilet both girls have just gone. You stand up so that he can reclaim his seat, eyes glued to your tablet as you open up your Google Calendar so you can put the Ladylike video filming in, but you’re interrupted when Hoseok grabs you. You squeal in surprise when he tugs you back down rather than letting you sit down yourself, tablet getting sandwiched between the two of you as you end up straddling him in a desperate attempt to catch your balance- but before you can resituate yourself he starts to tickle you and you end up laughing uproariously into his face.

“Cute, cute, my Y/n is so cute,” he sing-songs, and you continue to laugh as you try to bat his hands away.

“Stop, oh my God, Hobi!” There are tears of laughter in the corners of your eyes as you squirm in his lap, trying to get away from his hands but being prevented from doing so by the desk at your back; you’re trapped between it and Hoseok, entirely at his mercy as the two of you giggle at each other.

“You realise other people work here, right?”

Yoongi has finally reappeared. He sounds disgruntled, but you put it down to the fact he has KITTY AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION and a phone number scrawled across his face in what appears to be permanent marker, rather than at the fact that you and Hoseok are making noise. As Hoseok’s deskmate he’s used to this sort of behaviour by now.

“Hey hyung,” Hoseok says, shameless as his fingers continue to dance up and down your sides, although the touches are light enough now that you can turn your attention away from giggling to appreciate Yoongi’s new look. “Did you have a good nap?”

“A cat nap,” you say, and then giggle at the unimpressed look Yoongi throws your way- it’s hard to find him scary with the multi-coloured letters scribbled over his face.

He grunts as he sits down. “I’ll kill those kids,” he says, but there’s no real heat behind his words, and he slumps into his chair with a resigned sigh. “I kept scrubbing at my face but this shit won’t come off.”

You exchange a look with Hoseok, the two of you thinking about the hand sanitiser you keep in your handbag- the alcoholic gel would probably lift the ink off Yoongi’s face, but neither of you offer up this information. “I’m sure it’ll come off by tomorrow,” you say, and Yoongi makes a hopeful noise at the back of this throat. "Any particular reason why you've decided to act as a walking billboard for abandoned cats?"

"Thing 1 and Thing 2 said they were raising awareness for a local cat shelter and asked if I wanted to help. I said yes." Yoongi sounds rueful. 

"I feel very aware of it, hyung, so I'd say they did a good job." Hoseok laughs when Yoongi just flips him off.

Hoseok’s hands have gone still by this point. It’s not until Yoongi starts to tap at his keyboard that you remember the position you’re in, straddling Hoseok in his chair, your hands on his shoulders and his hands on your waist as you lean back against his desk- but as questionable and potentially incriminating as this entire situation seems out of context, literally no one is batting an eyelid. People are used to seeing this sort of thing from you two, both comfortable and not awkward with each other at all.

Hoseok's hands are warm and steady where they wrap around your waist. You're struck again by how large they feel- supportive, as always, when he holds you. 

"Mind letting me go, cowboy?" You say. "I should go back to my desk to get some work done."

"You're more of a cowboy in this situation," Hoseok says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Seeing as you're the one that's doing the riding."

"Good lord," Yoongi mutters.

You laugh at the expression on his face before Hoseok wheels you both away from the desk so that you have room to swing your legs off him. "That's dirty, Hobi," you say, but it's said with a smile and wink.

After you've disappeared, waving at the two men, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at Hoseok. "I know you two are basically married at this point, but can you try and rein in the flirting when I'm trying to work?"

"We weren't flirting," Hoseok protests. Yoongi looks unconvinced, his other eyebrow rising to match the first, and just shakes his head before he resumes Googling ways to get the permanent marker off his face.

--

Irene’s touch is light as she puts the makeup onto your face, surveying her work critically as she does. 

“Alright, that’s the foundation done,” she says, once everything seems to have passed whatever rigorous criteria she has. “So we're onto the concealer next.”

There’s something soothing about having someone else do your makeup. Not to mention that you don’t have to worry at all about the production of the video- with your usual projects, your level of investment means that there’s always something to think about, but right now all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. You do listen and react whenever Irene shows you the products and so on, but otherwise, you are literally just sitting there and letting the other woman put stuff on your face; you can relax and unwind and let her take the lead.

Irene has just finished blending the concealer under your eyes when your phone vibrates in your pocket. While she's rummaging for the next product- setting powder- you quickly check your phone to see if it's anything important. It's Hoseok, asking where you are, because he has a coffee and Danish pastry for you and he can't find you; you realise then that you never put the Ladylike video filming into your calendar, distracted by Hoseok grabbing you, and today you'd just disappeared without telling him where you were going. Oops.

You quickly shoot him a reply before Irene starts to brush the powder across your face and you're both surprised at how well it sets. "Your skin is so nice," Irene says with a smile, sweeping the brush over your cheeks. You try not to laugh when the bristles tickles your face, flattered at her comment.

She's just finished doing your brows when you hear the studio door open and you catch sight of Hoseok. He's staying off camera next to Wendy so he doesn't get in the shot, quiet and unobtrusive, but you can't help but perk up when you see him. Although you stay silent so that it doesn’t interrupt the filming, Irene notices how you brighten and pauses in her motions to look over where Hoseok is standing.

"Hi, Hoseok." Much to your surprise, despite the fact that the cameras are rolling, Irene still greets Hoseok. You thought she'd make him wait until you were done. "You're here for Y/n, I presume?"

"I have a coffee for her," Hoseok says, a little sheepish, holding up an iced macchiato and a paper bag that's got a small grease stain spreading on it, a tantalising glimpse of the deliciousness inside. "I just came to drop it off?"

"I don't deserve you, Hobi," you say, beaming, and he smiles back at you. 

Irene gestures for Hoseok to come into the frame. There’s a brief moment where you and Hoseok exchange a small, surprised look- Irene is rummaging through eyeshadow palettes and seems like she’s still going through with the video even though Hoseok is about to walk on set- but he acquiesces and steps into the shot. Irene points at the Instagram photo she has open on her iPad, which is propped on the table so she can use it for reference and zoom in if necessary. “We’re doing this look with dollar store products."

“Woah,” Hoseok says, leaning down to peer at the picture, and he sounds suitably awed. “That’s really nice. You’ve chosen one with all of Y/n’s favourite colours.”

“It’s cute, right?” You’re so excited to see the final product, even if it ends up not looking as good as what you can see on the screen, considering the cheapness of the makeup that Irene is using.

“Not as cute as you,” Hoseok says, and you blow him a kiss before looking at the iced macchiato in his hands meaningfully.

“Coffee, coffee?” You sound hopeful but Irene tuts.

“You’ll need to keep your eyes shut while I do your eyeshadow,” she says.

Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Hoseok comes to the rescue. “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you.”

And so that’s how you end up with Hoseok holding the straw of your iced coffee up to your lips while Irene applies the different shades and shimmers to your eyelids, your eyes shut as she does so; Hoseok makes appropriate ooh-ing noises, bowled over by how she manages to blend the cheap eyeshadows before doing a cut crease- you have to keep your eyes shut the whole time, letting the concealer dry on your lids so that it doesn’t smudge, gauging how it looks based on Hoseok's reactions. 

Every so often Hoseok will make a small noise and then you’ll feel the straw press up against your lips, and you’ll take a sip of your drink while Irene is switching colours or brushes; you feel thoroughly pampered today and you’re enjoying it immensely. She’s been describing the different products and their quality to the camera throughout the whole video, but now that Hoseok’s there, he responds to what she’s saying, making her giggle with how enthusiastic he is despite not recognising all the terminology she’s using. Although your eyes are shut you can't help but smile: that's your Hoseok, always lightening the atmosphere and making people laugh.

“Alright, you can open your eyes,” Irene says after what feels like a lifetime. The liquid eyeliner has dried by the time your eyes flutter open, the stark blackness against the expertly blended eyeshadows the first thing you notice when you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Woah, Irene! This is incredible!" You turn your head from side to side, taking in how different your eyes look after the ministrations of Irene's skilled hands. "Hobi, look at those wings! I wish I could get mine that even.” You don’t often wear liquid liner and when you do it takes you eons to get them to match, making each side bigger as you try to match the other- most of the time you just give up.

“You do look incredible,” Hoseok agrees. You look away from the mirror to smile brightly at him and then take another drink of coffee when he lifts it back up to your lips; the straw makes loud slurping noises as you reach the bottom of the cup and you end up sucking up more air than liquid, much to your disappointment. He chuckles at the look on your face but then coos when you pout. 

“I’m not done just yet, you know,” Irene says, unperturbed by your interactions. You wonder how this footage is going to turn out after the edit. “We still have lips and cheeks to do.”

Despite the fact your coffee is finished, Hoseok still remains next to you and watches Irene work. She lines your lips and then paints them a pleasant nude colour, before going in with an extra touch to your contour, and blush, and highlight (you’re genuinely in awe at the selection of makeup you can apparently get for a dollar each). There are so many steps involved in the execution of this look and you wonder how long it would take you to try and do this yourself, before deciding there aren’t enough hours in the day, even if Irene makes it look easy, finishing your face with a flourish.

“Alright, done!”

You pick the mirror up to tilt your head at different angles. You catch the way the highlight shimmers on your cheekbones and cupid’s bow, the way your eyes look after they’ve been shaded with colour and glitter, the sharpness of your brows, the fullness of your lips. 

“I can’t believe this was all dollar store makeup,” you say, awestruck. “It’s so much like the photo! I look so good.”

“Irene had an already perfect canvas to work with,” Hoseok says, and you end up smiling so widely your eyes almost squeeze shut.

“Flatterer,” you say.

“You two are so cute.” Seulgi sighs wistfully from behind the cameras and Wendy muffles a quiet cough into her palm.

Irene asks for your opinions on the makeup- you, moreso on how it feels on your face, and Hoseok, if he thinks it looks close to the Instagram photo (he does, but he's clearly biased because you're involved, which he doesn't try to hide). Once the cameras have been cut and everything has been wrapped up, Irene says you can go and so you hop off your chair. Before you can get too far, though, Hoseok stops you, touching his fingers gently under your chin. 

“Let me have a proper look.”

You immediately relax and let him tip your head slowly from one side to the other, eyes scanning across your makeup, which feels a lot heavier than you’d expected, but you’re still happy with how nice it is.

“Wah, so beautiful,” Hoseok says, a small smile on his face; it’s one of his softer ones, one that doesn’t show his teeth or his dimples, but rather squeezes his eyes into crescents, his gaze warm. Still blinding but in a different way.

“Irene did a really good job, didn’t she?” You say, enthused. Hoseok pauses, but then his teeth show as the smile grows.

“Yeah, she did.”

"Maybe I should get her to give me makeup lessons so I can look prettier more often." You've never been all too great at the more refined parts of makeup- blending eyeshadow or contouring, for example- but maybe you should add it to your repertoire, you muse.

Hoseok's smile dims as he becomes oddly sombre, hand shifting to cup the bottom of your chin so your face is gently cradled in his hand. "You're gorgeous all the time, makeup or not," he says. "Makeup is fun and you do look great but please don't think you need it to be pretty."

A shy smile plays at your lips. You feel bashful but you can't hide from Hoseok's gaze when he's holding onto you like this, but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. Hoseok knows you well enough to read your moods if you attempt to hide them- but because you trust him you don’t try to. 

"Ahh, you're too sweet to me, Hoseok," you murmur. He always compliments you, but the thing with Hoseok is that he always means it, and although you should be used to it, it still catches you off guard every time. 

"You deserve it." The soft smile has returned to his face and he lets his fingers drop away from your chin to tangle with yours to lead you out of the studio. “Now come on, you still have your pastry to eat.”

“I totally forgot about that! Oh, but I’ll probably smudge my lipstick.” Your sudden excitement about food dips instantly as you realise this. “I mean, I doubt dollar store stuff has much staying power anyway, but it’ll definitely smear onto the pastry, like, immediately.”

“I’ll cut it up into small pieces for you,” Hoseok says, and you make a noise of happiness as the door to the Ladylike studio shuts behind you both.

Seulgi and Wendy and Irene all look at each other, the two of you all but forgetting that they'd been standing there and had thus witnessed that entire exchange in excruciating detail. Wendy and Seulgi both open their mouths but before they can speak Irene holds up a hand. “I know,” she says. “Trust me. I know.”

--

Around the office, Jin might be renowned for his silliness, propensity towards dad jokes and loud laughter, but on set- while he’s still very much himself- he’s a professional and takes safety in the kitchen Very Seriously.

“If you damage any of my equipment with your clumsy fingers, I will grate so much parmesan down your throat that you die of cheese asphyxiation.”

“Sounds kinky,” Hoseok laughs, but then he jumps behind you when Jin brandishes a decorative pineapple at him as if he’s about to brain the other man. 

“Babe, I’m not about to explain to your family that your final words were, and I quote, ‘sounds kinky’, especially if it was before Jin offed you via fermented dairy products,” you say, although you still shield Hoseok with your body- as if there was any chance you’d be able to stop Jin if he was on the warpath. His shoulders are so broad. Still, you’d fight him for Hoseok if you had to.

“My family love you, I think they’d be okay with it,” Hoseok says from behind you. Jin makes a weird expression with his face before he sets the pineapple back down onto the table next to the rest of your equipment, raising his eyebrows at something; before you can ask what’s up, you’re distracted by the sensation of Hoseok’s hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “It’s okay, Jin, Y/n and I cook together all the time. We won’t mess up.”

“Hobi’s really good at cooking,” you pipe up, and Hoseok affectionately nuzzles at the crown of your head. You cook dinner together at least once a week, trying to use different recipes each time- cooking is a great hobby because you get food at the end of it, and cooking with Hoseok is especially great because you get an excuse to break out the candles and fancy tablecloth your mother had gifted you, even if your food is something simple. 

(You never thought you’d learn multiple ways to fold a napkin, but Hoseok is always so excited whenever he sees you start to crimp them into shape, so you like to mix things up for him.)

Jin’s face shifts back into that look that you’re starting to think looks like he’s eaten something that he’s not sure if he likes or not- a little disbelieving, perplexed, resigned. You never get a chance to ask why, though: Jin claps his hands and tells you to put on your aprons so you can start filming, and you eagerly pull it over your head before helping Hoseok tie his behind his back. (Jin makes the face again, but you’re too busy tying a cute bow to notice.)

Jin seems genuinely impressed when it turns out that the two of you have been telling the truth. Of course, the Tasty team member is directing you and giving instructions so it’s not as difficult as it might be otherwise, but he ends up surprisingly uninvolved with the physical part of the process; you and Hoseok hand jobs off to each other and work in tandem to prepare the dough and filling, and once the pie is in the oven you even begin to clean everything up unprompted, moving around each other with an unconscious level of ease. 

Jin just ends up sitting on a stool and watching you do his ‘minion work’ although you think he just doesn’t want to get in the way. Hoseok hipchecks you gently and then giggles when you pretend to be pushed back by the strength of the motion and flop dramatically over the sink.

“How often do you two cook together?” Although the question is technically directed at the both of you, for some reason you get the feeling that Jin is aiming this more towards Hoseok, who answers him.

“Usually two or three times a week,” Hoseok says.

“Hmm. I see.” Jin looks thoughtful, and you can’t help but feel like there’s something you’re missing in this simple question and answer exchange. Hoseok has an expression on his face that you’ve never seen before- which you’d thought was impossible, because you know Hoseok inside and out, and it’s confusing. You feel surprisingly unsettled by it.

Your best friend seems like he’s trying to cut whatever tension’s in the air by turning his attention back to tidying up, but he fumbles when he goes to shut a drawer and catches his fingers. He’s barely had time to make a small ow noise before you’re there, lifting his hand and inspecting it carefully. “Stop distracting my boy, Jin, let him focus on cleaning up your messy ass kitchen,” you say.

“Excuse you, my kitchen is a temple, it’s only a mess because you’ve been in here,” Jin says primly.

“Sounds like something a messy person would say.” You would roll your eyes but they’re focused on the reddened skin of Hoseok’s fingers. They just look slightly pinched, nothing major, but still. You’re careful when you touch him. You don’t want him to hurt any further. “Are you okay, baby?”

“No.” He sniffles and his lip wobbles dramatically and you laugh. You do what you always do when Hoseok hurts himself in some small, superficial way- you lift his hand to your lips and gently kiss the fingers he’d gotten caught, inflamed skin already fading back to its usual colour, pain clearly already gone. 

“There,” you declare. “All better.”

Hoseok’s expression is warm and tender as he looks at you, his fingers still cradled in yours as you look up from your touching hands, and your gazes lock. There’s a brief moment of stillness, a second that starts to crystallise into something more, and you’d swear his face had just started inching forwards when there’s suddenly an almighty clattering noise from behind you and you both jump, the moment broken.

“Oops,” Jin says blithely. You turn around to discover that all the pineapple related knick-knacks and decor on the table are now scattered on the floor around him, a tangle of paper decorations and plastic fruit that’s rolling across the room. “I seem to have slipped.”

“Weren’t you just going on about how messy we were?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you’ve already turned away from Hoseok to squat down and help Jin tidy up, chasing down an errant pineapple. You don’t see the pointed look that Jin gives Hoseok behind your back, and when you turn around with the over-large pineapple clutched in your arms, both men seem to be acting like normal. “I’m going to pay Namjoon to keep that in the final cut so everyone can see how chaotic you are in the kitchen.”

“Joonie would never betray me like that,” Jin says with completely unearned confidence, just like he does with most things- but the sad thing is, he’s right. Namjoon is too much of a professional to keep unnecessary shots in the video, and besides, Jin seems able to get away with being outrageously chaotic because he’s so charming and pulls it off so well. If the footage of him somehow sending everything to the floor was kept in the video, people would probably love it.

Once the pie is done cooking and has finally cooled enough for Jin to cut it into triangular shapes, you’re so excited to eat it that you’re bouncing up and down on the spot a little. Hoseok is too. Jin humours your excitement with understanding- he loves to eat too- although he raises his eyebrows at the way you and Hoseok lock your arms together before you lean forward to take a bite of the pineapple pie. You let out a muffled little groan into the pastry once it finally touches your tongue, sweet tartness of the pineapple exploding across your tastebuds, pastry buttery and flakey as it melts in your mouth.

“Jin, this is so good,” you say, and Hoseok hums around a mouthful of fruit filling in agreement.

“I think your ghost was onto something,” Jin says. He’s already polished off his slice, while you and Hoseok are barely halfway through your own, disentangling your arms so you can focus on eating properly. Sometimes you wonder if Jin just unhinges his jaw and swallows things whole because you’ve never seen someone who can eat as quickly as he can. “They could see you pining.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“You know… pining… like a pineapple,” Jin says, before giggling to himself like he’s just told the world’s funniest joke. You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok, but then you take another bite of the pie and immediately forget about Jin’s cryptic nonsense.

“This is so good, isn’t it, Hobi?” You ask.

“It’s so sweet and light and delicious,” Hoseok says. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I thought we were talking about the pie, not me, Hoseok,” Jin says, and then lets out peals of squeaky laughter when you roll your eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I think you can get a cream for that,” Jin continues to laugh, before you throw a paper pineapple at him.

--

There’s still pie left over the next day. Of course, you’ve saved slices for the rest of your crew. Jimin and Taehyung are snacking on slices of pie as they help each other set up the cameras and mics in the studio, making sure the lighting hits you and Hoseok so that you stand out against the room behind you. Today’s the day you’ve set aside to film the 70th episode, and you’re excited for the chance to do an official retrospective of the show so that you can look back at all the places you’ve been to and the things you’ve discussed, as well as plans for the future.

“Did the two of you coordinate your outfits for the video?” Tae says curiously, and you glance down at your clothes. It’s only then you realise that- although your outfit is darker than his- there are flowers on Hoseok’s bomber jacket and your dress is covered in a floral pattern.

“Huh, I didn’t even notice,” you mutter as you pluck at your dress.  “Guess we’re just telepathic.”

Hoseok stays silent, strangely enough, but when you hold your hand up for a high five he responds enthusiastically and continues to grip your hand afterwards, which makes you laugh. “That’s friendship,” he says, and you laugh again, squeezing his hand.

The two of you keep laughing as the cameras start to roll, watching the clips from your most popular episodes so far, between answering commonly asked questions from fans- one of the more frequently asked being ‘why did Hoseok agree to be a co-host when he always seems scared during filming and screams all the time?’

You read this question off your list and Hoseok’s answer is immediate. “Y/n is one of the hardest workers I know,” he says. “So I was excited to be invited on board for a show that she had created. And I wouldn’t say that I’m always screaming-”

“Yeah, when you have to pause to breathe,” you interject, and he laughs.

“Sure,” he says indulgently. “But, honestly, when Y/n is there it’s easy to forget that we’re standing in some terrifying old building or haunted tomb or whatever.” You rest your chin on your hand as you watch him continue to speak. “I would honestly be a lot more scared if she wasn’t there. She’s very good at distracting me if I’m getting too worried. She’s very comforting.”

“That’s a nice way of saying that I’m basically a defence mechanism for you.”

“Basically.” Hoseok grins at you so widely, teeth on show, gorgeous. 

Now that he mentions it, it’s true that as your friendship has grown, his fear has ebbed; although he still screams as loudly as before, it happens less often, but because sudden noises and jump scares always startle him, it still happens a lot. If you don’t take the time to reflect it’s kind of easy to forget how your friendship has grown over time, which is why it’s another good reason to have this retrospective- for the sake of the series, sure, but your relationship with Hoseok has grown as the show has, too.

When you flip over the final page to read the final question, you’re surprised to see an extra one tacked onto the end- you’d been the one to select them, after all, and this one has been added after the fact, someone’s messy handwriting scratched across the paper. You don’t recognise the writing. Honestly it kind of looks like someone had written it with their non-dominant hand to avoid detection, almost like a child’s writing from a cartoon, all but missing the backward E’s- but the question is pretty innocuous, so you figure you may as well answer it. You can just ask Namjoon to cut the footage later if you don’t like it.

“Y/n: If Hoseok decided to quit being your co-host, who would you want to replace him?” You squint at the paper as you decipher the scrawl, not seeing how Jimin and Taehyung exchange a sly, down-low high five off camera. “Huh.”

“You started the series with Yoongi, right?” Hoseok pipes up. “Would you bring him back?”

You’d chosen Yoongi as your original co-host for Unsolved because you vibed well and had pretty similar opinions when it came to a lot of things, and you’d worked well together in the past, but the truth is that- “No, I wouldn’t,” you say immediately. Hoseok seems genuinely surprised. “Honestly, if you stopped co-hosting with me, that would be the end of Unsolved. Hoseok and I are a package deal at this point and I would never consider filming the show without him.”

Hoseok looks stunned, but you keep going. “The show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Yoongi was great for the videos he was in, but- even if he didn’t have other commitments, he couldn’t take over from Hobi. Unsolved isn’t just a show about the supernatural, or crimes, it’s about us dealing with the supernatural or true crimes,” you continue, and then your nose wrinkles as you realise what you’ve said. “Well, we don’t directly deal with true crimes, fortunately. I’d make a terrible detective. My hand isn’t steady enough to draw one of those chalk outlines, y’know? I’d probably just end up drawing someone who looked suspiciously like Kirby. Anyway, Hoseok is my best friend as well as my co-host; if you get one of us, you get both of us, and if you don’t get both of us, you get neither of us.”

“I love you, Y/n,” Hoseok says. It’s not the first time he’s said this to you, but you think it’s the first time he’s ever said it on camera, and his tone is strangely earnest. He must be getting really nostalgic about the start of the show if it’s making him sound like that.

“Love you too, Hobi.” You beam at him. “I’m really glad we became friends.”

Behind the cameras, Taehyung makes a weird croaking sound and Jimin hits him hard on the arm.

“Uh, normally when someone's choking you hit them on the back, Minnie,” you say.

“I’m not choking, I’m fine,” Taehyung wheezes. Jimin punches him again.

“Uh-huh.” You raise an eyebrow. “Anyway. What was I saying. Oh! Yeah, referring back to the question- while I would never stop him if he thought it was the right thing to do, I certainly hope that Hobi doesn’t want to quit being a co-host.”

“I would never.” Hoseok’s expression is weirdly intense as he says this and you can’t help but laugh.

“Good! I’m glad we’re both in it for the long haul.”

Taehyung still looks kind of constipated once filming is over, but before you can ask him what’s up, Jimin pulls him to the corner of the room and the two men exchange some quiet words. They seem oddly serious and you purse your lips as you try to work out what’s going on, but then Hoseok’s hand slips into yours and your attention is drawn away from them.

“Celebratory 70th episode filming dinner?”

“I thought we were going to have a celebratory dinner with our minions when the episode actually aired,” you say, tilting your head at Taehyung and Jimin. “Didn’t you put it in the GCal?”

“I meant just you and me,” Hoseok says, squeezing your hand gently. “A co-host only dinner.”

“Ooh, we’re in an exclusive club, are we?” You giggle and squeeze his hand back. “Sure, why not. Can we have pizza? I’m feeling like pizza.”

“You can have anything you want, baby,” Hoseok answers, affection written across all his features. You go all wobbly inside, your insides melting into a puddle of goo at how warm and tender he is. You love your best friend so much. “Let’s leave those two to it, it seems like they’re busy.”

You look back over at your cameramen. Jimin has his cheeks puffed out and Taehyung looks chagrined. You purse your lips again, a little unsure if you should leave them if they’re having some sort of disagreement, but then Hoseok slips his hand out of yours and crouches down in a way that you recognise instantly. You make a noise of happiness and leap up, letting him lift you into a piggyback; you lock your arms around his neck and start to giggle as he bounces you a little, getting his hands comfortable under your calves.

“We’re off!” Hoseok announces. Jimin and Taehyung look away from their discussion to the two of you, their expressions both mirrors of each other as their eyebrows rise in unison when they spot how Hoseok is carrying you. “We’ll leave you to tidy the studio.”

“Enjoy the rest of the pie!” You wiggle your fingers at them in a little wave before squealing when Hoseok hitches you up his back again without warning, tightening your grip on him. “Pizza time, Hobi, let’s go.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes you laugh before you bury your head in his hair, stifling your giggles against his scalp. He smells so nice and soft and lovely, familiar, like home.

“Wow, they’re unbelievable,” Jimin whispers behind you, though you don’t hear him, more focused on not bumping your head in the doorway as Hoseok walks you both out of the studio. 

You end up going to your favourite pizzeria, sitting at your usual booth in the corner. You’ve been here so many times with Hoseok that you don’t need to look at the menu and just order your usual half-and-half, feeding each other slices of garlic bread and struggling with the gooey, molten cheese that seems to stretch endlessly from your slices of pizza. You feel warm and comfortable, your feet brushing under the small table whenever you shift your legs, laughing each time Hoseok traps your foot under his before letting you go.

“I can’t believe we’ve done 70 episodes,” you say, leaning back against the smooth leather of the booth seat after you’ve stolen a sip of Hoseok’s Sprite. “I never thought we’d get this far. I honestly thought you’d have died of fright by now,” you tease, swinging your leg gently against his.

“If I die, I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave,” Hoseok says, pulling a face at you that’s clearly meant to be ghoulish, and you laugh.

“I’ll take the spirit box home from work so you can talk to me.” You lean your elbow on the table and rest your chin on your palm, still smiling. “Obviously you’d do the same for me, right?”

“As long as you kept other ghosts away from it,” Hoseok says, shivering. “I don’t want to have to talk to them too.”

“I promise. I’ll be the only thing haunting you, don’t worry.”

Hoseok smiles at you, eyes warm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You share a banana split for dessert. You’re pretty full so Hoseok eats the majority of it, which gives you the opportunity to watch him, the way his dimples appear when he chews; you must have watched him eat a thousand times but you’re never any less endeared by the sight.

“I meant what I said, you know,” you say suddenly, and Hoseok looks up, cheeks bulging with ice cream and banana.

“Hmrh?” He makes a noise of questioning around his mouthful of food, and you laugh when you spot a smear of chocolate sauce on his chin. You swipe it away with your thumb before mindlessly sucking it off, too distracted by the sweetness bursting across your tongue to notice how Hoseok stares at the motion with wide eyes. He swallows. “What?”

“When I said that I was glad that we became friends,” you say. “When I first asked you to star in an episode I never thought we’d end up here, you know? But… I’m really happy. And I really do love you a lot, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiles all the time. In fact, you’d say he spends more time smiling than he doesn’t, happiness always radiating from his face like sunlight shining down from the sky, golden and bright- but the smile he gives you right now is softer than that. It’s more like the softness of the sunrise, spilling over you through just-opened curtains, warm and gentle and comforting.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he says. “More than anything.”

You put a hand over your face as you giggle bashfully at the earnest look on his face. “Stop,” you whine. “You’re so cheesy, oh my God.”

“You said it first,” Hoseok points out, but he starts to laugh along with you, before the server comes over to give you your bill and you end up fighting over who pays- Hoseok wins, much to your disappointment, but lets you front the tip as a compromise.

As always he catches the subway with you and holds your hand all the way home, only letting go when you get to the door of your apartment building. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says, and you glance up from where you’ve been rummaging in your bag for your keys.

“Bright and early as always,” you reply, smiling. “I’ll make sure to bring your casserole dish back tomorrow, it’s still on my counter. I’ll make you some lunch to make up for how long I’ve kept it.”

“Okay.” Hoseok watches as you finally unearth your keys, jingling them triumphantly as you do. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You look up from where you’ve been fitting the keys into the lock. “Yes?”

“I meant it when I said it, too.” He looks oddly sombre, none of the usual levity on his face. “I love you more than anything, Y/n.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, stuttering a little at his tone and his expression. He’s told you that he loves you, sure, and you always say it back, but Hoseok’s never said it like this: like there’s more meaning behind his words than normal. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, key still pressed into the lock- but before you can gather your thoughts Hoseok’s face is morphing into his usual smile before he dips forwards and kisses you on the forehead.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t forget the casserole dish!” 

And then he’s bouncing down the steps just like he always does, turning momentarily to give you a jaunty wave before walking briskly back in the direction of the subway.

“See you tomorrow,” you echo faintly, feeling off kilter and off balance as you watch him disappear into the distance.

--

Okay. So. You’ve told yourself on multiple occasions that, nowadays, what you feel for Hoseok is entirely platonic. He’s your best friend, and you love him, and it’s very easy to feel romantically inclined towards your friends sometimes because friendship involves love, and you should be friends with your romantic partners anyway, so there’s a lot of overlap. You may have lingering memories of your crush, yes, but you’re over it. 

At least, you could have sworn you were. So why are you projecting onto Hoseok again all of a sudden? When he said he loved you, it wasn’t a romantic confession, despite what your instincts might be telling you. Your brain is screaming at you to look at it logically, and you’re trying your best to tell yourself that, that it Wasn’t Romantic and it was Just Hoseok Being Hoseok, the man who tells all his friends that he loves them on a regular basis, it wasn’t romantic.

“Morning, baby,” Hoseok says, smiling at you, before noticing both the coffees you’re holding. “Ooh, is one of those for me?”

“Hi.” Your voice is weirdly breathless. “Yeah, I got your favourite.”

Hoseok lights up and makes grabby hands at you, and you feel utterly helpless as you hand it over. You feel like Past-Y/n, a previous version of yourself, the one that was still new to BigHit and used to get all in a muddle when Hoseok so much as looked at you. You feel like you’re rediscovering your crush all over again, like some sort of giddy schoolgirl, and you kind of want to slap yourself- but then Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee and makes a little noise of pleasure and all that self-hatred turns to static, replaced with nothing but affection for the man holding the door open for you.

You manage to keep it together pretty well, for the most part, you think. It’s not until you leave your computer to speak to Hoseok about something that you nearly lose it. He sees you coming and smiles widely, instinctively wheeling away his desk and patting his lap in invitation. Your brain goes blank as you panic and you abruptly swerve and act like you were walking over to Jungkook the whole time, missing the way Hoseok’s face drops with disappointment.

You’ve been lurking to one side of Jungkook’s desk for a few minutes before the man acknowledges you, looking away from the video he’s apparently editing to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you lost? Hobi-hyung is over there.” Jungkook starts to point but then you grab his hand before anyone notices, pushing it back down against his desk.

“I know where Hobi is,” you say through gritted teeth. Jungkook blinks at you as you continue to trap his hand against his desk, tightening your grip when his fingers twitch. “I am having a small crisis and I would appreciate it if you let me pretend to have a conversation with you about work.”

Jungkook looks baffled but doesn’t argue, clearly a little scared of how tightly you’re grasping his fingers. “Um, okay,” he says, slowly. “Do you need to hold my hand at the same time?”

You look down at where your hands are still connected before you release him. He flexes his fingers with a wince. “Wow, you’re a lot stronger than you look.” He sounds impressed. “Have you been working out?”

“I bench press the weight of my stupidity daily,” you sigh. Jungkook lets your words pass without comment, putting his free hand back onto his mouse and resuming his work. You squint at his screen, intrigued. “What are you working on?”

You end up perching on Jungkook’s desk as he talks you through his most recent project, and how he and Tae have almost finished putting together the cat shelter video- you coo at all the footage of the different cats, small kittens to mangy strays, scruffy and cute. You’re too busy laughing at the unflattering shots they have of Yoongi while he’d been sleeping before they’d written across his face and you don’t notice how Hoseok keeps looking over with a mix of confusion and almost hurt flashing across his features. 

He doesn't show any of this when you meet him later, though. You’ve recomposed yourself by the time lunch rolls around and you manage to return Hoseok’s casserole dish without fumbling. Despite your inner turmoil last night you’d still made time to pack lunch for the two of you, using the cute lunchboxes that Hoseok’s family had given you last Christmas- he lights up when he sees the dosirak you’ve packed, fluffy rice and other side dishes, all of his favourites.

“You are a blessing,” he says, and you smile as he eagerly dives in. You tackle your own food more slowly, having to approach the kimbap carefully because of how you’d been overzealous with the filling. “Ooh, can I have some of that?”

“Sure,” you say, gesturing at the bite sized slices in the tub in front of you. Instead of taking one of those, however, Hoseok leans forward for the piece of kimbap you’ve already grabbed. You’re frozen in place as you feel his lips around your fingers, teeth lightly grazing your skin as you instinctively surrender the food to his mouth, a light swipe of his tongue over your fingertips to catch the light sheen of sesame oil there, soft and wet against your touch. 

Hoseok leans back and chews like nothing is out of the ordinary- and to be fair, you’ve fed finger foods to him before, it’s not out of the ordinary, but right now you feel like you’re on the verge of a meltdown. Your brain keeps replaying the past few seconds, the softness of his lips around your fingers, the wet of his tongue against them, the way his eyelashes had fanned out against his cheek as he’d glanced down at the food in your hand. You are Very Much Not Okay.

Hoseok is still happily chewing his kimbap, swallowing it down and taking a sip of water before he seems to notice that you’ve gone eerily silent. “Y/n?” He blinks at you. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Um. I just remembered that I. Have a thing? I have to? Go do? You can eat the rest, seeyoulaterBYE.”

You can’t let this crush rear its head like this again and make your friendship awkward. The two of you have shared the same bed more times than you can count, for God’s sake, and you’ve even discussed rooming together- the rent in LA isn’t exactly cheap, and if you pooled your resources you could get a pretty nice place- and that had all been okay! That hadn’t made you feel strange at all! But Hoseok eats food from your hand like he has a thousand times and you’re spiralling out of control like this? Why is this happening now?

Ugh. Ughughughugh. Stupid.

Namjoon finds you hidden away in the Unsolved studio later, where you’ve absconded with your tablet to try your best to get some work done with your limited resources, hidden away from everyone; it’s weird being in here when you’re not filming, without Hoseok in the seat next to you, so you’re not really doing a great job. (You’ve spent more time blankly watching Queer Eye on Netflix than you have being productive.)

“Hey, Y/n.” Namjoon’s gentle voice is like a balm to your soul. Hoseok might be your best friend now, but Namjoon was your friend first and the two of you are still close, both in and out of work. He’d made you feel comfortable and welcome when you’d first joined the team and continues to support all your projects. He’s a really great friend and colleague and an even better person.

You smile at him as he shuts the door. You can tell he’s trying to do it quietly but ends up accidentally slamming it loudly, and you stifle a laugh as you notice the guilt that appears on his face.

“Joonie! Come on in.” You beckon at the seat next to you, scooting away a little so he plenty of room to sit. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanted to talk to you about some editing stuff but Hobi said you’d disappeared somewhere for a, um, ‘thing’.” Namjoon doesn’t comment on the fact that you still clearly have Queer Eye open on your tablet, Jonathan’s face a blur on the screen from where you’ve paused it during a transitional shot. Instead he sits carefully down next to you and leans back in the chair, adjusting his glasses; he looks particularly cozy today, with his glasses and jumper and cardigan. He pulls off the Hot Academic look really well. “Any particular reason why you’ve squirreled yourself away here?”

You muffle a sigh, looking down at the notebook you have next to your tablet; what little handwriting is on the page is especially messy and disjointed, reflecting your distracted mind. Namjoon has a naturally reassuring presence anyway but his outfit today seems to accentuate that even further, like you could bury your head into the fuzziness of his jumper and find inner peace.

“Oh, okay, I suppose this is happening,” he says.

Yep, the jumper is just as soft as you’d thought, and it smells nice and soft too. Namjoon doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve smooshed your face into his shoulder and instead he angles himself so you’re both more comfortable, and he starts to pat your back soothingly. It’s nice, of course, but you can’t help but compare his touch to Hoseok’s- Namjoon is more methodical and measured, like he’s thinking about each motion, while Hoseok just seems smoother and more natural because he’s always touching you, second nature by now. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ughughughughguhguh,” you say articulately into the weave of Namjoon’s clothing. He chuckles warmly.

“Long day?”

Good old Namjoon. A gentle question, open ended, offering you the opportunity to deflect, or tell him the truth. You turn your head to avoid getting jumper lint in your mouth, but stay leaned against him.

“Kind of,” you say. “It’s just…” You struggle to put it into words, but Namjoon just waits patiently while he continues to pat your back. “It’s Hobi?”

Namjoon’s hand goes still, though you’re not sure if it’s because of your words themselves or the tone of them, the way you pitched it up at the end like a question, like you weren’t too sure yourself. “Did he do something?”

“No! No. Yes? No,” you settle on. “No, no he didn’t. It’s not him, it’s me,” you say. “Ugh.”

You end up pulling away from Namjoon to scrub tiredly at your face, not noticing his expression, which he quickly reschools when you look back at him. “We were just doing our usual thing, you know,” you say, and Namjoon nods as he listens, even though your description is incredibly vague and could mean any number of things. “But then he said he loved me and like- we’re best friends, we say we love each other a lot, it’s not unusual or anything, but… I guess it got to me this time? Like it felt like something more than just friendship? He didn’t mean it like that, of course, but I guess it’s hard to, uh, shake that feeling now that it’s gotten into my head.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Although Namjoon seems a little perplexed he’s still clearly concerned, and your eyes widen.

“What? No, no, it’s fine! I don’t mind it. It’s more that-” You pause. You’ve never actually voiced your less-than-platonic feelings for Hoseok out loud, though you’re certain it must have been obvious to start with- even though no one had ever mentioned it or teased you about it, so maybe they hadn't noticed. 

Either way, it sort of feels like once you put the words out into the world then the truth will linger and be unavoidable in a way that you’ve been desperately avoiding so far. But it’s just you, and Namjoon, and you would trust Namjoon with your life, even if you wouldn’t trust him to hold anything fragile or delicate. “It’s not the idea of Hoseok loving me like that that makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t want things to be weird?” Namjoon continues to look levelly at you, waiting patiently for you to get to the point, and you take in a deep breath. “IhaveacrushonHobi,” you rush out. “And I don’t want to ruin the friendship by reading into things too much because I’m being overly hopeful or something.”

Namjoon pauses. He looks thoughtful as he fixes his gaze on you through his glasses. “Y/n.” He sounds solemn, like he’s discussing something of deep importance, like your tiny breakdown over your best friend requires the same level of gravity as the rapid disappearance of bees, or climate change- like it’s something world changing and heavy and important. He’s not doing what you’ve done over the years, as in, desperately tried to minimise your feelings just so you can stay sane. “You sound unhappy about it.”

“I am unhappy about it,” you say, unhappy. “Hobi is my best friend and I do love him a lot, and I’m happy being friends, and I reallyreallyreally don’t want to make things weird. I should be used to this by now, it’s not like what he and I do is anything I’m not used to.”

“Things change when romantic feelings develop,” Namjoon says, ever patient, and you let out a pained little groan.

“It’s not- these feelings aren’t new, Namjoon.” You sigh, and for the first time since you started this conversation, Namjoon looks surprised. Guess your crush on Hoseok hadn’t been obvious in the beginning, then. “I don’t know if I ever told you that I met Hoseok before I even got a job here, technically?”

You’d come out of your BigHit interview feeling unsure. Off balance. You hadn’t known if you’d come across as desperate and too eager to please, rather than a go-getter team player, but all you’d been able to think about was how getting a job at BigHit would mean that you could finally save up enough to move out of the awful shared room you were in with the mould in the corner that kept coming back no matter how many times you cleaned it. The interview had gone on longer than you thought and you barely had time to get to Starbucks before your shift started- if you got a job at BigHit you could finally quit that place- and you’d hurried to leave the building only to discover that it was raining.

“Oh,” you’d said. 

You’d stood in the reception area, staring out of the glass windows at the torrential downpour outside; it had been sunny earlier that day, no indication that the heavens were going to open, and you hadn’t brought a coat or umbrella with you. Your one nice interview outfit was going to get drenched, and it was going to stay wet in your locker at Starbucks while you were working, and basically the entire month had been just terrible and after a potentially wasted interview you just kind of wanted to cry.

Before the tears could start to pool in your eyes, however, Hoseok had appeared. Not that you’d known him or his name at the time, of course, but he’d swept into the building like some burst of sunlight that had cut through the clouds despite the rain, shaking an umbrella off before laughing at Yoongi’s disgruntled face at the scattering water. You’d been stunned by the sudden flare of energy in the room and were still standing there when Hoseok’s eyes fell on you, on your stance, the way you were staring at the grey skies outside and the obvious lack of an umbrella in your hands.

And he’d just- he’d just walked up to you like you were friends, like he knew you, and he’d proffered the still damp umbrella, like it was nothing.

“It’s raining pretty heavily out there,” he’d said, and he’d been smiling, and you’d looked at him in shock, and he’d laughed. “You’ll need this.”

“I- what?”

“You clearly need this more than me,” Hoseok had said, bright smile fading into something a little more gentle, and you’d accepted the umbrella with unsteady hands, unable to say no to this sunshine of a man. “Feel free to give it back whenever.”

“I- I don’t work here,” you’d admitted, shamefaced. “I’m just here for an interview.”

“So you can give it back to me once you get the job.” Hoseok had said it like it was a done deal, like there weren’t other people vying for the position you’d applied for, people who were probably infinitely more qualified and better in interviews. “Okay?”

For the first time that month, you’d felt like someone believed in you- because you certainly didn’t believe in yourself. But Hoseok had been smiling at you, with his heart shaped mouth and his bright eyes, and you’d felt like a flower basking in his rays, turning towards him as your petals unfurled in his light, and you’d said- “Sure. Yes. I will.”

Here, now, in the present, you look down at your hands as you finish telling this story. “I just put the umbrella on his desk when he wasn’t around, after I got the job,” you tell Namjoon. “I didn’t talk to Hobi for ages because I didn’t- I didn’t have the strength to look him in the face without, you know. Without making it obvious that I had a raging schoolgirl crush on him. And he never said anything about it- I don't think he even remembered me at all, he'd just given some person his umbrella because they needed it, you know? And then we became friends and my crush died down and everything was okay, but- I guess the crush never really went away after all. Ugh,” you say. “This sucks, Joon. It sucks.”

The way Namjoon looks at you is compassionate and soft. “I know,” he says. “It’s understandable that you’re worried about this, because your friendship with Hoseok is important to you. But I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about, really.”

“You’re just saying that,” you mumble, and Namjoon chuckles.

“No, I’m not,” he says, gently. “I think you need to be more confident in what you and Hoseok have. Even if you admitted your feelings and he didn’t feel the same, you know he loves you too much to throw your friendship away, and it’s strong enough that it can survive whatever’s thrown at it. But, if you’ll forgive me for speaking out of turn, I would wager you’re not the only one with romantic feelings, Y/n.”

“You’re very sweet, Joonie, but I really don’t think that’s the case.” You let out a little self-pitying sigh. “Hobi’s just so lovely to everyone, it probably seems like that because we’re best friends.”

One of Namjoon’s eyebrows rises. “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes,” you say, a little miserable, looking down as you pick at a loose thread in one of your sleeves. “People mistake us as a couple a lot because we’re so close, you know? But Hoseok doesn’t see me like that.”

“Mm.” Namjoon makes a little noise of understanding, giving you a considering look as you continue to unravel your sleeve. “I see.”

He eventually coaxes you out of the studio, and when he discovers that you never finished your lunch he brings you to the café around the corner that all the BigHit employees love; you pick up an iced coffee for Hoseok, just the way he likes it. You feel better after talking to Namjoon and by the time you leave the café you feel pretty much back to normal. Mostly relaxed. You don’t feel weird when Hoseok lights up when he sees you, because he always does, because you’re his best friend, and this is normal. You can be normal.

“Again? It was my turn to get you coffee,” Hoseok says with a pout and you laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” When you hand Hoseok his drink and your fingers brush, it’s okay. It’s okay. Your friendship with Hoseok is more important than your other feelings for him, and you’ll just focus on that. You’re not sure that’s what Namjoon was trying to communicate to you, with all his listening and gentle words, but you can bottle up these emotions and keep them on lockdown until the weird feeling passes. It’ll work. You’ll be fine.

A few hours later, you realise that you’re not fine.

“Joonie!” You pounce on Namjoon when you find him alone in the break room, filling a glass at the tap. He jumps and sends water sloshing over his hands when he drops his cup, though it fortunately doesn’t break when it clatters into the sink. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“I’m not going to point out that you snuck up on me from behind without making any noise, but, that’s okay,” Namjoon says, ever tolerant. He very carefully puts the glass upright in the middle of the sink before he turns around. “What’s up?”

“I, um, am maybe panicking a little bit,” you admit in a hushed voice, even though there’s no one else in the tiny kitchen with you. “So you know Unsolved has a bigger budget now that we’re more popular? And I’ve been pushing for us to go abroad somewhere on said bigger budget? And they said we could schedule some episodes for Britain because basically every other building in Britain is haunted?”

“Yes, I am aware,” Namjoon says. “I did help you to draft the emails that you sent management.”

“You did, and I’m still eternally grateful,” you say, truthfully. “But I’ve been so caught up in the 70th episode retrospective and my much more recent, uh, Hoseok related stuff, that I totally forgot how soon it was coming up and we fly to London next week?”

Namjoon blinks at you. “You have plenty of time to pack before next week, why are you panicking?”

You muffle a scream into your hands while Namjoon looks on with concern. 

“It’s not packing I’m worried about, Joon,” you say once you’ve pulled your face out of your palms. “It’s just that when we’re abroad I’m not going to be able to get away from Hoseok and I’m worried that I’m going to erupt like a volcano and spew all my emotions over him and then I’m going to have to change my name and drop off the grid forever when he inevitably rejects me, and I was always terrible at camping. I could never get the fire to light.”

Namjoon, for all that his patience seems endless and eternal, gives you a look that borders on weary. Like he’s the father to a child who keeps eating glue even after being told that there’s no nutritional value in it and they should be using it for macaroni art anyway, and also why are they eating the glue when it’d make more sense to eat the pasta that’s right there, even if it’s uncooked? 

“First of all, you can be off the grid and still have access to ways of heating that don’t require fire,” he says. “And second of all, why are you panicking so much about London?”

“Because Hobi always gets super clingy when we fly anywhere.” You shuffle from foot to foot, feeling awkward. “And that’s when we’re still in the US. I feel like if we’re in a different country it’ll be compounded? Even if I don’t say anything out loud, I feel like my feelings will be obvious just in the way I act?”

Namjoon pauses before he grips your shoulders. His palms feel so big and warm, a steadying presence. “Would that be so terrible? Think about it, Y/n. If that was the case, then it gives Hobi the opportunity to speak out if he notices. If your friendship is entirely platonic to him, then he won’t notice, right? You’ll be okay.”

You open your mouth to take in a breath and respond, but before you can say anything Seokjin comes sauntering into the cramped break area, entirely indifferent to the weird atmosphere he’s walked into. His eyebrows raise as he spots how you and Namjoon are standing. “Ooh, are we gossiping? Is there tea to be spilled? You both look very serious, let me in on it.”

“I was just asking Namjoon if there was any advice he could give me about travelling to Britain,” you lie.

“She didn’t realise that over there lemonade is like soda.” Namjoon lets his hands drop from your shoulders as he plays along with ruse, and your face twists up in confusion.

“It’s what?” You look at him for a second before realising that Jin is staring at you, and you pretend to laugh. “Ohh, yeah, haha! Yeah, that’s crazy, haha. Um, I should get back to my desk for my notebook, I should write this down before I forget,” you say, before scuttling out of the break room.

Once you’ve disappeared, Seokjin gives Namjoon a long look. “I can’t believe you haven’t broken yet,” he says. “I still personally think we should just lock them both in a room together until one of them confesses, but apparently that’s ‘inappropriate workplace behaviour’.” The air quotes he makes are exaggerated and theatrical, as if the entire thing is a farce.

“It is and I’m not going to take that statement back,” Namjoon responds. Seokjin rolls his eyes dramatically but Namjoon ignores him. “It’s better if they come around to it by themselves. I believe in them. Besides, weren’t you the one who intervened when it looked like Hoseok was going to kiss her? I had to edit that footage, I saw how you pushed all those decorations off the table.”

Jin raises his eyebrows. “Can you imagine the chaos if he’d done that without either of them confessing properly first? They’d both pretend like it never happened. I was doing them a favour.” He casts a sideways look at Namjoon, who nods in reluctant agreement. “You know the rest of the office has a pool on how soon one of those idiots actually confesses? Do you want in on it? If either one of us gets it, we can split it 50/50.”

“That’s also grossly inappropriate,” Namjoon says, before he pauses. “Hm. How much is in the pool?”

--

Turns out you didn’t need to worry so much.

“Oh my God, look at that!” Hoseok has his face pressed up against the glass of the pod, the London Eye giving you the opportunity to look down at the metropolis of the city sprawling out below you; Hoseok’s pointing at a weirdly shaped skyscraper, panels of glass refracting off alternate shades of blue. “That’s so cool!”

“I think it’s called The Gherkin,” you say and he makes a noise of delight. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung take a selfie with the panorama of London behind them, and you smile.

It’s true that Hoseok has been clingier than usual. The thing is, though, you’ve been clingier too; you’ve had time between filming to do some sightseeing, and neither of you have been to London before, so everything is exciting and fun and new, and you’ve been holding onto each other throughout the journey, familiarity in an unfamiliar place. You’re too busy taking in the sights and travelling from place to place, you and Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung cramming close together each time you take the Tube somewhere, or asking people to take photos of you, and you’re having too much fun to worry about anything else.

You even get recognised a few times, which is exciting. You know Unsolved is popular but there’s something gratifying about people an ocean away knowing who you are and enjoying your work- you look on fondly as Hoseok makes your fans laugh, putting the nervous ones at ease, before shuffling together so they can take photos with you. It’s lovely, really, and you’re so glad that you and Hoseok get to experience this together. There’s no one else you’d rather be with.

You’d had a brief moment of panic after filming the first episode, Hoseok sliding into your bed as per usual, but you’d both been so tired and jetlagged that you’d basically fallen asleep the second he’d finished wrapping his arms around you, so it had been okay. You weren’t as jetlagged for the second episode, of course, but there was something soothing about having Hoseok curled around you as he slept; despite how your heart probably should have been racing, it had just gone quiet instead, slipping into a gentle beating rhythm as you’d drifted into sleep.

So on the whole it’s been all been going a lot better than you’d thought. It feels natural to let your head fall onto Hoseok’s shoulder as you both stare out of the train window, watching the fields and villages slip by as you race out of London to your final filming location, only a few days away from jetting home again.

“We should come back,” Hoseok says suddenly, his voice low enough that Jimin and Taehyung aren’t distracted from the card game they’re playing together across the aisle from you.

“For more episodes? We’ll probably have to wait till the next quarter so there’s money in the budget.” You turn away from the view outside to look up at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “We can start looking up other haunted locations when we get home, if you want.”

Hoseok smiles. “I meant we should come back just for a regular holiday,” he says. “So we don’t have to worry about rushing from place to place. I know you’re disappointed we didn’t have time to see the Royal Botanic Gardens. I know how much you love flowers.”

Oh. You keep looking up at Hoseok, the way you have such a perfect view of the round apples of his cheeks, the swoop of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw- you think about walking hand in hand with him past bursting blooms, through delicate arching greenhouses, surrounded by colour and beauty, and you know you’d still think he was the most beautiful flower there. 

“I’d like that,” you say quietly. You’re almost drowned out by how loudly Taehyung yells snap! and the subsequent groan Jimin lets out, but you know Hoseok hears you by the way his mouth lifts into a smile. “Is there anything you wanted to see next time?”

Hoseok shrugs, but only with one shoulder, doing a little jiggle with the one you’re not resting your chin on, which makes you smile. “Nothing specific,” he says. “I’m happy as long as I get to see it with you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he says this, words settling deep in your chest, and you turn your head so that your cheek is resting on his shoulder again, shirt soft against your skin. “Love you, Hobi.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond straight away, but then he turns his head and kisses the crown of your head lightly. “Love you too.”

You arrive in Colchester in the late afternoon, and you don’t film until tomorrow, so after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff at your apparently haunted bed and breakfast, you make the group decision to just chill out for the evening and grab a couple of drinks. There’s a pub near your B&B so you and the boys pile into it, claiming a table in the corner so that you’re not in the way of the regulars, although every so often one of you has to venture up to the bar to order your drinks, trying to follow whatever sort of queuing system seems to be going on. (After the lemonade thing you had actually ended up actually asking Namjoon about Britain and the etiquette over here, and he was very insistent on following queues.)

By the time it’s your turn to grab the drinks it seems like it’s starting to get busy, so it’s taking some time for the bartender to get to you, but that’s okay- you lean against the bar and scroll through your phone, taking the opportunity to double check your schedule for tomorrow, when you feel someone tap your arm and you glance up.

“Hi,” the man says. He’s been waiting nearby, lounging against the bar, similar to you. “Are you waiting for a drink? You can go first, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, no!” You shake your head and laugh a little. “You were here before me, that’s okay.”

When he hears your accent his eyes light up. “Oh, are you a tourist? I thought I hadn’t seen you around, because I definitely would have remembered you. How long are you over here for?”

“Uh, just a couple of nights.” You smile at him. “I’m guessing you’re a local?”

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you. “I could show you around, if you’d like.”

You startle at the sudden sensation of hands sliding around your waist, but it only takes you a second to recognise the touch and you relax against Hoseok, your back pressed against his chest as you turn away from the man to glance up at your friend. “Hi, baby,” he says. “Did you make a friend?”

“We’ve only just started talking, actually,” you say, turning back to the guy you have yet to introduce yourself properly to. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“That’s okay. I think my friends are calling me,” he says, and he pushes himself off the bar before brushing himself down and then walking away, giving both of you a polite little nod as he passes.

“He never even ordered his drinks.” You blink with confusion and then shrug. “Oh well, means we’ll get ours sooner. You can go sit back down, Hobi, I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m already here, I may as well stay with you,” he says, tightening his grip around your waist, and you don’t argue. He keeps hold of you as you wait and then helps you carry your drinks to the table before he pulls you onto his lap, keeping you in place with one hand splayed over your stomach while he uses the other to lift his glass to his mouth.

“Fuck chairs, right?” Jimin says. Taehyung elbows him.

“Don’t be jealous because I have the best seat in the house,” you say, before sticking your tongue out at Jimin. 

He gives you a mock affronted gasp and clutches his chest and you laugh before settling back against Hoseok, comfortable on your familiar perch atop his thighs. Hoseok might be the world’s biggest lightweight and easily gets tipsy over a single sip of alcohol- but despite this, his hold on you is firm and steady, even when he’s laughing over your shoulder, keeping you safe in his lap. He keeps stealing sips of your drink, dipping his head forwards to capture your straw whenever you’re not paying attention, but you don’t mind. What’s yours is Hoseok’s. (You’ve been taking sips of his beer, too, even if you make a face at the bitterness each time.)

By the time you shuffle back to your B&B, you’re all pleasantly drunk and keep giggling at each other about dumb and inconsequential things, although you’re careful to keep your voices down so that you don’t disturb anyone, trying to keep your footsteps light as you walk up the stairs. Jimin and Taehyung’s room is a little further up the corridor than yours and you clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter when you see Taehyung trying to open the wrong door before Jimin redirects him.

You might not be too much better, but at least you remember which room is yours- you unlock the door on your first try, although it’s a little hard to step inside with how Hoseok is wrapped around your back, trying to time his steps with yours but failing a little with how tipsy he is. You keep laughing whenever he moves his feet forwards at the wrong time, a messy tangle of limbs that keep bumping together as you kick your shoes off, and you end up collapsing onto one of the beds with Hoseok still clinging onto you. He tips over backwards while your back is still pressed to his chest and you let out a little squeal at the sudden falling sensation, but he cushions your fall without complaint and still doesn’t let go, even when you accidentally elbow him in the sternum.

“We should wash up and get in our pyjamas,” you say, but you’re already wriggling into a more comfortable position, turning over so you can look at his face instead of staring up at the ceiling. Hoseok’s head has sunken into one of the fluffy hotel-style pillows, his hair a messy halo around his head, face flushed red from the alcohol. You smile down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says. “I don’t want to move right now.”

“You’re so drunk,” you giggle, but you rest your head on his chest and let your body relax, muscles unwinding as you let out a long, happy sigh. “We can move later, then.”

Even though you’d genuinely meant to get up and do your nightly ritual, you’re so comfortable snuggled with Hoseok in the soft bed that you drift off. For once, you fall asleep before him, eyes fluttering shut as your breaths deepen with sleep; Hoseok keeps stroking a hand down your back, brushing tenderly down the line of your spine with his long fingers in a way he’s done a thousand times. He’s still grateful for the opportunity every time, though- that he gets to see you like this, that he can touch you like this, that you’ve allowed him so deeply into your life and made a home in his, too.

“Goodnight, baby,” Hoseok says, voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. You’re so deeply asleep that you don’t stir, but he’s still careful and gentle when he touches his lips to your forehead with the lightest of pressures, tender. “Sleep well.”

When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a long time to come fully to your senses. You feel warm and heavy, surrounded by the smell of fresh sheets and Hoseok, and you don’t want to wake up just yet; you’re in that soft place between waking and sleeping, drifting in wakeful limbo as you slowly start to regain a sense of who you are and where you are. 

Your brain flickers on, starting to pull itself together as the sensation of being a singular warm mass starts to dissolve, drawing up a mental map of how your body is slotted against Hoseok’s, where your limbs start and his end. That’s your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. That’s his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close even in your sleep. That’s your hand, resting on his hip, fingers hooked in his belt. Those are your legs, tangled around his, your toes pressed to his calf, and that’s-

Your eyes fly open. You’re still wearing your clothes from the night before, thicker denim of your jeans rather than the flimsy cotton of your pyjamas, but you know exactly what’s pressed against your hip bone. You’ve slept in the same bed with Hoseok enough times that this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken to his morning wood, but you’ve never been this tangled up before; you normally slide out of bed and pretend you haven’t noticed anything, and by the time Hoseok wakes up it’s normally gone, or he subtly shuffles off to the bathroom to deal with it, thinking that you’re none the wiser. 

It’s natural, it’s normal, it’s nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, but right now all you can think of is the hand you have near his hip, how close it is to his arousal, how easy it would be to slip your hand past his belt and jeans and boxers to grasp that hard, heavy heat-

You stiffen. You would never, ever do that, not ever, never take advantage of Hoseok while he was sleeping, and you know it was just a flickering thought in your still sleepy brain, probably still a little drunk, too- but you feel sick. You can’t believe you would even hypothetically consider taking advantage of him like that. If you were more than friends, then, sure, you’d wake Hoseok up with a pleasuring touch- but you’re not. You’re not. 

It takes a real feat of slow, drawn out acrobatics, but you manage to extricate yourself from Hoseok’s grasp without waking him. He only wakes up to the sound of the shower rumbling through the wall, blinking as he realises that his arms are empty, even though he should be used to this by now. By the time you walk out of the ensuite, towelling off your hair, Hoseok’s got a cup of tea waiting for you by the kettle, a few scattered milk droplets nearby from the tiny, complimentary pots.

“Morning, baby.” He’s still sleepy and there’s a crease on his cheek from where he’d turned his head into the pillow, hair ruffled, shirt wrinkled after a night of sleeping in it. “Tea?”

You feel a little better after your hot shower, scrubbing all the dirty thoughts off your skin, but when Hoseok looks so soft and homely like this it’s hard not to want to just eat him whole. 

“Ooh, how British,” you say, trying to laugh- Hoseok still seems too heavy-eyed to notice how you’re a little bit off right now, thankfully. “Yes, please.”

Unfortunately, you can’t shake your lingering weirdness and feelings of guilt, and when Hoseok wakes fully, he notices. You’re not due to film at Colchester Castle until it’s night time, shooting the episode when it’s going to be dark, so you’ve organised a day trip to the town’s zoo- Colchester Zoo is huge, full of all sorts of animals and exhibits, and Hoseok’s been excited to visit it from the moment he found out about it. 

You’d even looked up the map online so that you could plan out the optimum route and ensure you didn’t miss anything, the two of you crowding around your phone screen and pointing excitedly at the names of the different exhibits, ready and raring to go.

So Hoseok is understandably a little stunned when you apparently seem to want to drag your feet and stay with Jimin and Taehyung instead. Both the boys want to just wander around the zoo willy-nilly, separating off from you and taking it slow- but after a brief, silent discussion between the two of them, eyes flicking at each other and then back to you, they agree to come with you on your planned route.

You send up a silent prayer of thanks to anyone who’s listening. You can use the chaotic duo as cushioning and put them between you and Hoseok if you need to.

You know you’re not being especially subtle right now, but every time Hoseok moves closer to you all you can think about is how his choice of outfit today is fraying your already delicate nerves, the loose fabric of his fashionable sweatpants doing nothing to protect the outline of his dick from your wandering gaze. You don’t mean to look, but you can’t help it, even if you’re fairly certain that half the time it’s just a crease in the fabric from how he’s standing and not actually his dick, but-

“I thought it’d be harder than that,” Taehyung says. “It’s so much hairier than I thought it would be.”

You freeze, eyes shooting away from Hoseok’s crotch. Luckily no one seems to be paying you any attention and instead the boys are peering into the armadillo exhibit, watching as the animal snuffles around the ground.

“They don’t call it a large hairy armadillo for nothing,” Jimin giggles. “And it’s still a baby, the armour hasn’t grown in properly yet. It’ll look harder once it’s grown up a bit.”

All the tension rushes out of your body at once. Jesus Christ. 

Hoseok notices you slumping a little, glancing up from the map when he hears the sigh of air escape your body. “Are you okay?” He seems concerned.

“Never better,” you lie unconvincingly, giving him a weak smile. “What’s next on the list?”

Hoseok seems concerned about you for the whole day, and even a little hurt when you keep slipping out of his grasp, but the truth is that you need to put some distance between the two of you right now, for the sake of your own heart and sanity. Being desperately head over heels for Hoseok is one thing and you’d just started becoming okay with that again, but this sudden wave of physical yearning (you’re too embarrassed to think of it as horniness) is out of the left field and it’s a lot harder to cover up. You hate seeing sadness on Hoseok’s face, and normally you’d be cooing over him and asking him to tell you what’s wrong- but you know what’s wrong. It’s you. 

“Do you think something happened?” Taehyung whispers quietly to Jimin, the two of them watching as you act like you’ve been distracted by the Koi fish and walk away from Hoseok as he’s just about to reach for your hand.

“I think we’re reaching critical mass.” Jimin pretends to read from the zoo map. “We’ve nearly hit the nuclear reaction and one of them is finally going to blow. It might get messy.”

“I hope not,” Taehyung says, watching the way Hoseok stares at the back of your head as you peer into the tank of glittering fish. “I’ve never been good at cleaning up.”

It’s a little easier once the evening finally rolls around and Hoseok replaces those delicious sweatpants with marginally more professional jeans, as ripped as they are. It’s also easier to slip into the natural rhythm and rapport you have when you’re being filmed- it’s not that you’re ever any faker on camera, but it’s just an unthinking response to the sight of them, your body switching from Normal mode to Work mode. Taehyung readjusts the camera rig you have looped around your body while Jimin sorts out Hoseok, night vision lens pointed towards your faces, before letting you go.

“Ready?” You ask, glancing at your co-host. Hoseok seems less enthusiastic than usual, and you internally cringe, contrition shooting through you at how you’ve managed to dampen his mood because you’ve spent the whole day being distant.

“Ready,” Hoseok says, subdued. Your face crumples and you reach out for his hand, squeezing his fingers, trying to communicate a silent apology for something he isn’t even aware of. 

“I won’t abandon you, okay?” You keep your fingers tangled with his as you speak and grip them hard. “There’s a lot of scary stuff in this castle and I promise I won’t leave your side.”

Hoseok pauses but then squeezes your hand back, and he seems to brighten, even though he’s still a little dimmed. “I know,” he says. “I know you won’t.”

Even though he says that, he spends less time clinging onto you than normal. It’s probably not noticeable to the average onlooker, and with how most of the footage is going to be cut later, you’re certain your audience won’t notice either- but while Hoseok still screams and jumps at things, he seems to separate from you as soon as the fear has passed. He doesn’t linger or keep hold of you, even when he seems visibly shaken, eyes wide as you ascend the stairs and hear what sounds like singing even though there’s no one else here- it’s probably just wind whistling through the ancient corridors and walls of the castle, but you know that Hoseok is terrified.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” You look over your shoulder and proffer your hand but Hoseok just shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He’s clinging onto the banister, both hands white knuckled around the metal railing. “I’m fine.”

Even though you’ve been the one who’s been avoiding touching him all day, it hurts when he says that, as hypocritical as you know you’re being. You draw your hand back to your side and don’t offer again after that, although you still pat him soothingly when he instinctively grabs you later, jumping at a clattering noise in the distance. You’re not easily spooked, but Colchester Castle definitely has some weird vibes, so if you’re feeling like this, Hoseok must feel even more scared than normal.

At one point you walk through a spider web and flinch in surprise when you feel it on your face, jumping backwards and swiping at your face. Hoseok is immediately there, eyes wide as he stares at you, immediately protective despite his fear. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Uh, it was just a spider web,” you admit, chagrined. “I overreacted, sorry.”

Hoseok nods and immediately backs off, giving you room as he turns around. You can’t help the hurt that flashes across your face as soon as he looks away.

“Critical mass,” Jimin mutters to Taehyung, who nods sagely.

The worst and weirdest moment of the night actually happens once the episode is over. Hoseok is oddly quiet as you both get ready for bed, not talking to you through the open bathroom door as he meticulously massages cream into his face like he normally does- and once he flicks the light off, plunging the room into blue tinged darkness, you’re stunned as you watch his silhouette slide into his own bed instead of into yours.

He’s never slept in his own bed after a supernatural filming. Even after your first paranormal themed episode together, when you’d still been mostly strangers. He’d been bashful and hesitant despite how obviously scared he was, asking if he could sleep in your bed, and of course you’d said yes, wanting to do anything you could to soothe him and help him feel safe. So the fact he’s not sleeping in your bed now, it’s- it’s- it’s not right. 

The only light in the room is from the tiny, faint red numbers of the digital clock, and you watch as time trickles slowly by- you stay awake for what feels like hours, laying on your side as you stare towards Hoseok’s bed. Your eyes adjust to the near darkness, room painted in low-contrast sfumato, and you can see how Hoseok is turned away from you; he’s unnaturally still and silent, and you know he hasn’t fallen asleep either, too scared and wound up to drift off.  

Outside, a vehicle rumbles past, and you can see how Hoseok stiffens at the noise of the loose fan belt, a high squeal that’s admittedly startling after the silence of the night. The shine of the headlights through the drawn curtains is muted but still more than enough to throw the room into brief, sharp relief, the tension in Hoseok’s shoulders screaming out to you- you can’t stand it anymore and you slip out from under your blankets so that you can make your way across the dark room. 

Hoseok turns when he hears you stumble over something on the floor- you think it’s a pair of socks- and makes a little noise of surprise when you throw back the corner of his duvet so you can slide in next to him.

“Y/n?” He sounds tired, but still fully awake- you were right, he’s been struggling to sleep.

“Hobi,” you say. “Why are you over here, all alone like this?”

You can barely make out the details of his features, as curved towards each other as you are; you can see the faint darkness where his hollows of his eyes are, his pretty mouth nothing more than an undefined line in the muted room. 

“I- I didn’t want to disturb you.” His voice is a quiet, unhappy murmur, and you feel your heart break at the dejection in his tone.

“Oh, Hoseok.” You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks; you can feel the tension in his face, how he must be frowning. You might not be able to see everything all too well, but you’re more than familiar enough with Hoseok’s face to know where the furrow between his brows is, and press a little kiss to it. “My Hobi,” you say, and start to litter kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. “My baby. My darling.”

You keep touching your lips to his skin, wanting his unhappiness and fear to fade away, whispering pet names between each kiss. You tilt your lips against his chin, and Hoseok makes a little noise before his hands come up to grasp your wrists, pulling them away from where they’re still cupping his jaw. You go still, eyes widening, even if he can’t see it. “Hoseok?”

“Did I- did I do something wrong?” He sounds unsure. “You were avoiding me all day- I thought you didn’t want- I thought you wanted me to leave you alone,” he says, and you can hear guilt in his voice. “I thought I’d scared you off somehow.”

You make a little, unhappy noise. “No, baby, no,” you say. You shake your head, faces still so close from your kisses that your noses brush, but you don’t pull away- you need him to know that it’s not his fault. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then what was it?” His grip slips away from around your wrists to slide his fingers between yours instead, holding your hands. “Tell me.”

You go still. His tone is so imploring: he wants to know what’s wrong, so he can fix it, make it better. “Hoseok.” Your voice is quiet. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok.”

“And you’re mine,” he says, squeezing your hands. Your heart feels small and feeble in your chest, a weak little thing that swells up at Hoseok’s words, but immediately shrinks again in fear. “You can tell me anything.”

“You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you repeat. Hoseok goes silent. “You’re my best friend, and I-” You take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs, get some oxygen flowing through your terrified heart, taking bellows to a dying ember, trying to grow it into a flame. “Honestly, I’m just selfish, Hoseok,” you say. “I’m just- being your best friend is already everything to me- but I’m so selfish-”

“Y/n.” Hoseok’s voice is a hush.

“I’m in love with you, Hoseok.” 

There. You said it. 

You can feel how Hoseok stiffens, how his fingers go utterly still in yours as you continue to speak.

“I’m in love with you, and I was just so scared you’d realise how head over heels I’ve always been for you and you’d end our friendship because everything I feel is just so much, and I just needed space today, I needed space to try and get my head straight and not scare you away by making things weird, and I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I never want to hurt you, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t hate me.”

You take in a deep shuddering breath once all the words have spilled out of you, so much air. It’s out in the world, now, and you can’t take it back. 

As the seconds tick by, the initial heady rush of terror starts to fade and is instead replaced with resignation, unsurprised at how Hoseok is still frozen against you. He’s deathly silent. He’s probably mentally drafting the nicest way to gently let you down, always so kind and lovely, so wonderful, your Hoseok. 

A twinge shoots through your heart as you mentally correct yourself- he’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be. You should have just kept your mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. Your voice is a miserable whisper. “You’re just so easy to love.”

You try to pull your hands out of his so you can slink back to your bed and wallow in your misery, but Hoseok just tightens his grip. You tug again, a little more insistent, and this time he lets go- but before you can roll out of his bed he’s grabbing your face, long, beautiful fingers splaying over your cheeks and jaw, locking you in place as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Y/n.” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, low. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re-”

You’re cut off when Hoseok presses his mouth to yours. He’s kissed you before, on your forehead, your cheeks, the bare skin of your shoulder when you wear the sundress he likes so much- but you’ve never felt his heart shaped lips against yours, never felt them soft and warm as they catch your own, and it’s so much. He keeps drawing his mouth across yours, catching your lips between his own, tongue pressing out to swipe across them, and you shiver as the kiss slowly turns slick and wet, even as it stays so tender.

His hands wrap around your waist and he rolls over you, pinning you down with his weight as you keep kissing and kissing and kissing. Your hands are in his hair while his cup your face, holding you like you’re something delicate and precious, palms warm against your skin. You don’t separate to breathe, keeping your lips locked as the kisses turn open-mouthed, Hoseok’s tongue gliding against yours, the lingering taste of your shared toothpaste mingling with his saliva- you shiver underneath him when he nips at your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you crane your head forward to press further into his mouth, kisses slow and deep, and by the time you finally separate, you feel dizzy and breathless.

“Hobi,” you breathe out. “Hobi, turn the light on, I want to see you.”

Hoseok leans over you to flick on the bedside lamp, illuminating you both with its bright light- you can see how kiss swollen his gorgeous mouth is, how the sheen of your saliva on his flushed lips glows gold from the lamplight, how his hair is a mess from how you’ve been running your hands through it. He looks like your best friend, and also nothing like that at all, something familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Hoseok, forever changed by the touch of your lips.

“My baby.” He’s smiling at you, all warmth and fondness, and you squirm underneath him, embarrassed by the weight of his affection for you. “Y/n. I love you too.”

You probably shouldn’t be surprised, considering how Hoseok has just kissed you breathless, but you still feel your heart stutter in your chest. You’re staring up at him with your wide eyes as he bends forward again- he mimics what you did earlier, trailing kisses over your forehead and cheekbones and nose before he kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, then your cupid’s bow, then just under the swell of your bottom lip. “I love you, love you, love you,” he says, punctuating each kiss with the repeated confession, as if each time he says it it’s not punching the air out of your lungs.

“Hoseok?”

“Yes?” He’s still smiling, those warm little creases under his eyes as he looks at you, every inch of him just screaming out happiness. You did that. He’s happy because of you. 

“Do you- do you remember when we first met? Years ago?” You don’t want to break the moment, but he’s never mentioned the umbrella thing and you’ve never asked before and you have a burning desire to know if he can recall-

“Do you mean the first time we actually met, or the first time you officially introduced yourself to me? I remember both,” Hoseok says. “I always knew you’d get the job. Besides, if you hadn’t, you would have had to keep the umbrella,” he adds, smile edging into something a little cheeky. “And then there would have been a pretty girl out there thinking about me every time it rained.”

Your eyes widen before you hide your face in your hands, overwhelmed at the idea that Hoseok had thought that you were pretty before he’d even known you; he coos at you and pulls your hands away to reveal your flustered expression, trapping them against the pillow so you can't hide your face again. Hoseok’s smile has faded into something a little more serious, but no less loving, and although you feel open and naked and vulnerable right now, it’s not because you think he’s judging you. 

“You never said anything, so I thought you’d forgotten,” you admit. “But from the second you smiled at me as you handed me that umbrella, I knew I was a goner. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Hoseok.”

It’s not often that you see Hoseok look like this, his eyes so serious and deep, but his entire face is still so soft, smiling. “Me, too,” he confesses. “Me too. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to risk our friendship and I love you too much to want to give that up.”

The smile that splits your face is so wide it almost hurts. “I love you,” you say again, for the sheer novelty of hearing it out loud, seeing how Hoseok lights up- the fact you can say it without fear of his reaction, because he loves you, too. He loves you. He’s in love with you. “I love you, Hoseok, I-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing your words of love into his curved mouth, the two of you smiling and laughing as your lips come together again and again- but when he presses his tongue to your lower lip and you part them, he licks into your mouth in a way that’s almost lewd, warm and wet, and you shiver as you think about exactly how long that tongue is.

Hoseok still has his hands around your wrists from before, and you feel how his grip tightens imperceptibly when he feels you tremble underneath him. Your cheeks feel warm when he pulls back and you wonder if your blush is visible, but Hoseok seems intent on other things, dipping his head forward to catch your earlobe between his teeth for a sharp moment, nipping it before licking it with his hot, wet tongue. Your entire body shudders as he starts to kiss down the side of your jaw, and you tilt your head to give him better access, gasping when he draws his tongue over the oversensitive skin of your neck; you can feel how he smiles against your skin before kissing your throat.

“Hobi,” you breathe, and then gasp when he draws the flat of his tongue over the hollow of your neck. Each teasing touch of his tongue and lips is trickling straight to your core, your panties growing wetter and wetter with your arousal. “Hobi, oh.”

“I’m going to worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped, princess,” he murmurs, lips moving against your collarbones as he speaks. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long." He keeps kissing you between his words, punctuating them with sweeps of his tongue over your skin, and it's so much. "Hold still for me, baby, there you go.”

Hoseok releases your wrists and you flex your fingers but stay in that position, your hands palm up as they rest either side of your head. Hoseok leans back to stare at you underneath him, laid out for his gaze; you’re in an old t-shirt and faded pyjama bottoms, face bare, hair a haphazard mess where it rests against the pillow, but he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re draped in diamonds and gold and silks. He looks at you with reverence and love, like he wants to cherish you- but there’s also something deeper in those half-lidded eyes of his, like he wants to swallow you whole.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. You bite your lip, swallowing down a needy noise at the tone of his voice, hands clenching into fists where they rest beside your head.

“Hobi, please,” you say. “I need you.”

“You have me.” He takes one of his hands and slowly pushes the material of your shirt up, dragging his palm over your skin as he reveals the softness of your stomach. He lets the material bunch just under your breasts, ignoring how your nipples have hardened and stand out through the thin cotton of your old tee, running his fingers over your sides; you buck a little underneath him, sucking in a breath at how his touch is almost ticklish. “So sensitive.”

“You haven’t even touched me properly yet,” you say, a little snarky despite your breathlessness, but then you’re cut off when Hobi’s hands slide under the t-shirt to cup your breasts, palms and fingers cool against your overheated skin. Your pussy clenches when he flicks his thumbs over each of your hardened buds, running the pads of his fingertips over them, and you arch into his touch.

“So sensitive,” he says again, a little smile behind his words as he watches how your chest rises and falls under his hands, sucking in air when he pinches your nipples between his fingers. “Do you like that, baby?”

“Like it when you touch me,” you sigh. Hoseok smiles, flashing his teeth at you before leaning forward to kiss you again. He coaxes you to lift up a little so he can pull off your shirt, smoothing your hair when it gets ruffled by the motion, but before you can smile up at him for his tenderness, he lowers the heat of his mouth over one of your nipples and you gasp.

One of your hands flies up to grasp his hair when he circles the bud with his tongue, and you let out a low moan as he continues to lave attention on it, flattening his tongue and dragging it over the sensitive flesh. He alternates between your breasts, using his hands and fingers on whichever he’s not suckling between his lips; goosebumps erupt over your skin, and you keep biting back whines and gasps each time he does something particularly wicked with his mouth. 

You feel so, so wet, arousal pooling between your legs, and you need him to touch you there. But he's slow, taking his time until your chest is heaving and your skin is flushed and your nipples are slick from the wetness of his mouth, his fingers just the right side of rough whenever he pinches the hardened peaks, and you mewl beneath him.

You’re just about to beg Hoseok to give you more when he finally lifts his mouth from your nipple, and you go tense as he starts to trail his lips down the valley of your breasts, across the sensitive skin of your stomach, hands roaming over the rest of you; he slides down the bed until he’s resting between your legs, and all you can think about is how close his mouth is to where you want it to be. 

You’re so wet that you’ve soaked right through your panties, a touch of dampness clinging to the flimsy material of your pyjama bottoms too, and you shiver at the way Hoseok seems to drink down the sight before he hooks his fingers into the loose elastic waistband, and starts to inch them down. He’s moving torturously slowly, kissing your bare legs as he reveals your skin, touching his lips to your thighs, your calves, your ankles. 

He does the same again with your panties, even more slowly; palms sliding up the side of your legs so he can curl his fingers around the fabric of your underwear and peel it off you. You shiver when your pussy is finally revealed, your inner thighs slick with your arousal and cooling from the touch of the air- Hoseok continues to suck and kiss trails across your legs even as he stares at your naked, weeping core, his gaze heavy as he drinks down the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, running his fingers over your bare skin as you tremble beneath him. “So gorgeous and perfect. Look at you, all laid out, just for me. I love you.”

“Hoseok,” you whimper. He’s still entirely clothed while you’re naked and bare, and you feel utterly debauched in comparison to him, the sheen of his saliva still shining over your body, nipples hard, your pussy lips flushed from arousal, every part of you begging for more- meanwhile he’s still got his surprisingly cute matching pyjama set on. The contrast is making your dizzy. He cups your foot in one of his hands, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner ankle, and your toes curl. “Please, baby, I need you.”

“I’ve got you, princess,” he murmurs. He drops one last kiss to your ankle before shifting towards your canting hips; his breath curls out over your core and you shudder, another flood of arousal shooting through you, your cunt clenching as Hoseok stares at it shamelessly. “Look at you,” he says, reverent. “So pretty and wet for me.”

“Hobi,” you whine. You bite back a gasp as he hooks your fingers behind your knees and forces your legs apart, spreading you open, entirely helpless underneath his hungry gaze. You watch in wonder as he lets his tongue curl out of his mouth, looking sinfully dirty as he does- but then you let out a whine when he turns his head away from your pussy and licks the inner seam of your thigh instead. Your hips jump at the sensation, your skin so sensitive from the attention that he’s lavishing on you, but it’s not where you want his mouth to be, even if the lingering kisses he’s giving to your inner thighs feel good. “Hoseok, please.”

He hums indulgently, and you’re about to start begging again when he purses his lips and blows out a puff of air over your flushed lower lips; the sudden chill against your damp folds has you tensing, and before you can gather your wits Hoseok drags his hot, wet tongue up the seam of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You cry out from the sudden explosion of sensation when he repeats the motion but presses past your lower lips to tongue at your slit, lapping up the juices at your entrance before circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, your spine arching as your hips buck. “Oh, God, Hoseok, yes, right there.”

He slides one of his arms over your stomach, trapping you, holding you down as you try to cant your hips towards his mouth. You sob with pleasure as he continues to drink down your juices, leisurely licking at the most sensitive parts of you, in no rush at all. “Hobi, please,” you beg. “Please, I need more.”

Hoseok turns his head to lightly bite your inner thigh, your leg twitching at the sensation, surprised at how pleasurable it is. “Ssh,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time. I want to savour it,” he says, and you let out a whine when he dips his head back down and starts to lap at your clit again, his dark eyes watching each of your reactions, the way you writhe and curl your toes each time he dips back down to your entrance, pressing his tongue inside you. “You taste so good, baby. Your pretty little cunt is so perfect.”

You whine at the praise, writhing when each swipe of his tongue over you is fanning the flames of your arousal higher and higher, and you can feel how the coil inside you is tightening, so close to reaching your peak. Hoseok’s still eating you out, nice and slow, and you’ve never felt an orgasm creep up on you like this- you moan as Hoseok finally buries his face in your pussy, tongue sliding from your slit, to your clit, over and over. 

It’s so, so good, and then you watch as he slides one of his long fingers inside you and curls it inside you just right- “I’m gonna cum, Hoseok, I’m- oh!”

The intensity of your orgasm hits you like a freight train, exploding from deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed and your toes curl as you cum and cum and cum, Hoseok keeping his mouth on you the whole time, your entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over you, wetness flooding out of your cunt that he drinks down eagerly. 

The build up was slow, and the come down is slow, too, aftershocks rippling through your body for longer than any orgasm you’ve had before, and Hoseok keeps licking and sucking you through it all until you’re almost crying out from the overstimulation and you have to push his head away. The aftershocks are still rippling through your body as Hoseok rises, your pussy clenching each time, and you feel boneless and strung out- but you know Hoseok isn’t done with you yet.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he says. You reach out for him and he comes so easily, fitting himself between your arms. His lips and chin shine with evidence of your arousal and when you pull him in for a kiss you can taste yourself across his tongue, a noise bubbling up at the back of your throat when you feel how slick his lips are against yours.

“Wanna make you cum too,” you say, your voice weak after the strength of that orgasm; you take in a deep breath, willing the oxygen to bring some energy back into your body. “Baby. Hoseok.”

“Mm.” He kisses you again. “You will, baby, don’t worry, you’re always so good for me.”

Your fingers fumble when you try to unbutton his shirt, but when Hoseok laughs, it’s not patronising at all; he just sounds fond. He takes over, deft fingers making quick work of the shirt before he throws it aside, revealing the slim line of his body to you. He’s beautiful and lean, nipples dark, skin golden, with a dark trail of hair that dips down into his pyjama bottoms- your eyes zero in on the way Hoseok’s loose pyjamas do nothing to hide his erection, the hard strain of his cock against the fabric, and you let out a little sigh of happiness that you’re finally getting to see what you’ve been desperately staring at all day. When you reach out for him your fingers barely brush his skin, and you make a greedy little noise, hungry for more.

“Need you,” you say. You want Hobi inside you, splitting you open, as close to each other as you can physically be. “Clothes off now.”

Hobi lets out a loud laugh, and you melt at the utter joy in the sound, how his face is so open and bright. 

“God, I love you,” he says, before unceremoniously shedding the offending garments. He wiggles his hips in an entirely unsexy manner, and you end up laughing too when he gets one of his legs caught and has to kick the pyjama bottoms off in an entirely graceless way. You’re still letting out quiet giggles even as Hoseok is finally bare in front of you, beautiful and unabashed in his nakedness, and you love him. 

You feel like liquid sunlight, overflowing with happiness; you’ve never laughed like this with anyone before, both naked yet still somehow amused, flipping from all-consuming arousal one second to laughter the next, but it just feels natural. Because it’s Hoseok, and everything feels so easy with him.

“I love you too,” you say, and then, when your eyes drop to his cock, you say: “God, you’re beautiful.”

His cock is gorgeous, curving up towards the ceiling, a drop of precum beaded at the tip; it’s not completely straight, hanging just a little to the left, but it’s Hoseok, so it’s perfect. He wraps his fingers around your hips and you let out a little squeal when he tugs you down the bed towards him so that your legs are dangling off the side and your hips are practically flush; his cock bobs when he moves and you shiver with how close it is to your heated core. Just like the rest of him, it’s long and lean and gorgeous, and you can’t wait to have it inside you. Although-

“Don’t I get to taste you?” You can’t help but say this with a pout, and Hoseok’s face splits into a wide smile.

“Next time, baby,” he promises. “Tonight is for you.”

Next time. The realisation that tonight is just one of many, just the start of an entirely new chapter in your life with Hoseok- that you’ll still be friends, best friends, but also more- settles inside you, warm and soft and safe. Your face creases into a smile and you slide your hands up Hoseok’s body, over his stomach and chest, touching all the skin you can, relishing in the fact that you’ll grow familiar with it all in a way that you never could have dreamed of. 

“You’re always so good to me,” you say.

“You deserve it, princess,” he replies. You tilt your hips towards him and you see how his eyes darken at the motion, tenderness swallowed by lust, and your body lights up like a livewire in preparation, ready to feel him push inside you. You’re already loose and wet from your first orgasm, but you don’t protest when Hoseok starts to run his fingers over the seam of your thigh; he presses straight in with two fingers, your body opening up for him so easily, and you gasp at how deep they move inside you, so long and pretty. 

“There, Hobi, right there.” He’s clearly not trying to bring you to orgasm again but he still listens to your directions, keeping the motions of his hands the same, fingers rubbing over your inner walls so perfectly. 

You can hear it, noises slick and dirty before he pulls them out, and you watch as he uses your arousal to slick up his cock, rubbing your juices over his hard length. It’s lewd, how he does it, pumping himself as he spreads it over his cock, wet noises vulgar and obscene, shooting straight to your core; you don’t think you’ve ever seen or heard anything so arousing in your life, the way Hoseok has his lip caught between his teeth as he looks at you, cock stiff between his legs as he runs his fingers over it. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper. “Hoseok, fuck.”

You arch your back when he grips his cock in one hand, guiding himself towards you- but rather than pressing into your entrance he runs his throbbing length back and forth through your lips, gathering even more of the wetness there, the slide so easy and smooth. It’s the most delicious, glancing pressure against your clit, not enough to satisfy, but enough to have you gasping again, the way you can feel the silken heat of his cock against you. 

“Hoseok, please.” You don’t attempt to hide the desperation in your voice. “I need you.”

Hoseok lets out a guttural groan at your words; he drinks in how blown your pupils are, the flush from your orgasm still visible over your chest, the way your fingers are clutching the bedsheets, white cotton tangled in your grasp. “Anything you want, baby,” he says, and finally, finally, he grasps his length and tilts it to your entrance. He rests there for a second, the tip barely touching you, and you see how he steels himself as he grasps your hips, before he starts to sink into you.

“Oh!” He fills you so well, inch by torturous inch, your body opening up for him so easily it’s like his cock was made to fill you; once he bottoms out you can feel how snug he is inside you, cockhead pressed against your cervix, and you shiver. “Oh, yes, Hoseok, so good.”

He stays still for one long, drawn out moment, before his hands slip off your waist and he reaches for yours. You entwine your fingers with his, staring up at him as he leans forward and kisses you; the motion has his cock shifting inside you and you whine a little against his lips, before biting off a gasp when he rocks his hips forwards. The motion is fluid and rolling, and Hoseok sets an unhurried pace, languidly filling you up with his cock, over and over and over.

The pleasure that’s growing in you is slow and relaxed. You’re not chasing your orgasms- you’re revelling in the closeness, the connection, the slip of skin against skin, how Hoseok is filling you up, how you’re drawing him in. You end up staring into each other’s eyes, Hoseok’s forehead pressed to yours so there’s nothing in your vision but him; you only break eye contact when one particularly deep roll of his hips sends a shudder through you, your eyes squeezing shut as you gasp.

“Feel so good, baby,” Hoseok murmurs. “So good for me.”

You make a noise of confusion when he lets go of your fingers and leans back, straightening up, but then he hooks his hands under your knees and you lift your hips; you drape your legs over his shoulders, arched towards him, lower body lifting off the mattress. Hoseok drives forward and you immediately gasp at how he hits your sweet spot straight on, the change of angle forcing the head of his cock to brush the top of your inner walls, each drag of the blunt head sending shocks of pleasure shooting through you.

“Wanna feel you cum around my cock, princess,” Hoseok says, and you shudder. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Hobi, yes- faster- oh-”

Hoseok starts to ramp up the pace, snapping his hips into yours with the sound of slapping skin, and you can feel how you’re starting to tighten around him, pussy clenching with each thrust of his hot cock inside you. “Gonna cum for you, Hobi,” you say. “So close, fuck.”

He takes one of his hands off your waist and slides three fingers over your clit, and you cry out with pleasure as he starts to rub at your bundle of nerves in tight circles; the added stimulation is just what you need, and you tumble over the edge into your second orgasm of the night. Hoseok moans when he feels how your cunt clenches around him, rippling tightness around his cock, and your eyes fall shut as your mouth falls open and you rock your hips into the sensation, grinding against Hoseok to prolong the pleasure, and he continues to snap his hips forward.

You go lax, almost limp, but Hoseok is still hard inside you, so you try your best to keep your back arched towards him; the fluid roll of his thrusts is starting to fall out of rhythm as he approaches his own peak, and although your pussy is crying out at the oversensitivity, you try to match his pace, canting your hips towards Hoseok each time he drives forward.

“Want your cum all over me, Hobi,” you say. “Want you to cum on my tits-”

Hoseok curses, composure slipping entirely for the first time all night, and you feel how he fumbles his rhythm before he catches himself. His thrusts are fast and choppy before he pulls out and drops your hips to the mattress; you whine at the sudden emptiness, but then he’s shuffling his knees onto the bed and he has his hand wrapped around his slick length, jerking himself hard and fast as you arch your back and push your chest towards him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says through gritted teeth. “So pretty, baby- fuck!”

He gasps in air before he lets out one long, drawn out moan, and then there’s hot cum splattering across your breasts, whiteness painting itself across your skin. Hoseok continues to pump himself, cock letting out more ropes of cum, and you can’t help but let out a noise of satisfaction at the sight, lifting your hands to run over his hip bones and waist and flexing thighs, watching the way Hoseok’s face draws together as he rides out his own orgasm, until his hand falls away from his cock and he’s slumping forwards over you, panting.

You hum, reaching for him and pulling him down so you can brush your lips against his. “You’re so hot when you cum,” you say. “I could watch you cum all day.”

Hoseok lets out a breathless laugh before he kisses you again, properly this time- you’re content to keep kissing regardless of the cum that’s starting to cool on your chest, but Hoseok is insistent on being a gentleman and excuses himself to the bathroom to get a towel so he can clean you up. When he drags the damp towel over your skin, he’s so soft and gentle, although you still shiver a little when the rough fabric drags over your nipples; he bends down and kisses you in apology. 

You feel warm and small and soft, watching as Hoseok walks around the bed, still naked; the paltry lamp light is still more than enough for you to see every line of his beauty, the way each of his muscles shifts under his skin as he walks and moves, bending over to gather some of the discarded clothes from the floor. You sit up and lift your arms so he can help you back into your thin t-shirt, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him with a firm press of your lips, before he shimmies back into his boxers, though you personally don’t think he needs them.

When you finally settle down for the night you both curled up on your bed- because Hoseok’s is rumpled and sweaty from your previous exertions- and nestle up gratefully under the sheets, warm from the weight of the duvet and Hoseok spooning you from behind.

“I love you,” he murmurs, nosing at the side of your neck.

“I love you too,” you reply, and then end up giggling a little, stomach jumping under Hoseok’s hand. “I need to buy Namjoon a thank you slash apology gift when we get home, you know,” you say thoughtfully. “He had to put up with me having a meltdown about you, and it turns out he was right.”

Hoseok brushes his nose over your ear. “Jin kept making pretty blasé comments to me about us,” he tells you. “But he does that about most things, so.”

You hum lightly before pressing back further against Hoseok, who tightens his hold around you in response. “I guess they knew before we did,” you say. “We’ve been acting like a couple for a long time, to be fair.” Thinking back on it, it was pretty obvious, but hindsight is 20/20, as they say. 

The next morning, as always, you wake before Hoseok- and this time when you feel the hardness pressed into your ass, you don’t panic. You do what you always do and slide carefully out of Hoseok’s arms, but unlike every other morning, he doesn’t wake up to an empty bed. Instead, he wakes up with a small gasp to the sight of you with your mouth around his cock, your eyes wide and innocent as you stare up at him; you work him up while he’s still half-asleep and slow, swallowing down his cock until he cums down your throat. You litter kisses over his hips and thighs, smiling into his skin as he comes down from his peak, his pupils blown.

“Morning, Hobi,” you say, kissing the divot below his hip bones. “I love you.”

“Come here,” he says, voice still a rasp from his sleep, eyes hungry as he reaches for you.

When the two of you eventually stumble downstairs for breakfast, Jimin and Taehyung are already there; you’re much later than normal but neither of the boys seems to notice anything out of the ordinary, Taehyung asking Hoseok to pass the pepper mill as soon as you’ve sat down.

Taehyung is enthusiastically grinding pepper over his bacon and eggs when Jimin pipes up. “You know, the ghosts in this B&B apparently like to watch the guests while they try to sleep and make noises to keep them up,” he says conversationally. “You didn’t happen to notice anything out of the ordinary in your room, did you? Taehyung and I could have sworn that we heard moaning or something at some point, but I think it must have been a trick of our minds.”

You and Hoseok exchange a quick glance. “Uh, nope, can’t say that we did,” you say, and Hoseok nods emphatically in agreement.

Jimin pauses. He squints at you, before turning to Taehyung and pulling the pepper mill out of his hands to get his attention. “I told you it was going to happen soon,” Jimin says. “They finally hit critical mass and confessed. I knew that moaning wasn’t from ghosts.”

“And there’s no mess to clean up, even if we didn’t win the betting pool.” Taehyung sounds pleased. “Can you pass the salt now please?”

You watch incredulously as both boys continue their business as usual, Taehyung swapping the pepper mill for the salt grinder while Jimin opens a tiny jar of raspberry jam for his toast. 

You turn to Hoseok, scandalised at the idea that a) your friends/co-workers heard you last night and b) there’s apparently some sort of office bet about your relationship with Hoseok, only to find that the man in question has a look of alarm on his face.

“Do you think the ghosts were watching us last night?” He has an expression that’s a mix of affronted and also scared. “That’s dirty.”

“No, baby, I don’t think we had ghostly voyeurs in our room,” you say, stroking Hoseok’s hand with reassuring fingers, before you frown and look back at the other two boys. “I hate our friends. You have a betting pool?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” Taehyung says. “I’m not sure who’s won the money, I’d have to check the spreadsheet when we get back home.”

“I bet Jin was the one who came up with it, wasn’t he?” Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look, but neither of them say anything, which is more than enough to answer your question. “I’m going to shove a wedge of parmesan down his throat when we get home and see how he likes it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok says.

“I love you too,” you reply, turning your head to accept the kiss he gives you.

“You’re so cute,” Jimin says.

“Why parmesan?” Taehyung asks, before twisting the salt grinder with enough gusto that he pulls the bottom off and salt goes cascading over his breakfast. “Oh, oops. Do you think they’ll let me have more eggs?”

--

Your thank you/apology gift to Namjoon is a tin of Scottish shortbread that you find in a cute tourist shop, although when you find out he’s actually the proud winner of 50% of the betting pool, you take the shortbread back for yourself and Hoseok instead.

When Yoongi arrives at his desk to the sight of you sitting in Hoseok’s lap and feeding him between kisses, he just rolls his eyes, mutters ‘finally’, and makes no further comments. You laugh into Hoseok’s mouth and allow Jungkook to steal a piece of shortbread on his way past, too busy kissing your boyfriend to care.

“You can have the last bit of shortbread,” you say, and Hoseok grins up at you.

“You’re just saying that because I ate you out this morning,” he says, and you giggle.

“I can’t believe you just made me listen to that with my own two ears. I’m in hell.” Yoongi sounds so tired. “I think I preferred it when the two of you were dancing around each other. Go back to doing that.”

“No can do, Yoongles,” you sing-song. “I love Hoseok and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

“I love you too,” Hoseok says, looking up at you with bright eyes, and you giggle before dipping down to kiss him again.

“Everyone else knew before you did,” Yoongi mutters, but neither of you pay him any mind.

[honeyypotato]

Rules for Requesting, etc.

So I'm starting to receive requests, and it's honestly super cool that y'all like my writing enough to ask me to write your ideas! It makes me really happy that people enjoy the funky things my brain comes up with 😊

However, I feel like I should highlight what I'm comfy/uncomfy with writing, and a few rules so that I can get to writing your request asap :)

This post is linked on the pinned post on my blog, so you can check it at any time.

Of course, if I'm uncomfy with your request and what you asked for is not on this list, I'll let you know.

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

What I absolutely, WILL NOT write:

Incest, even if it's not in the main pairing

Rape

Anything where either person from the main pairing dies

Sex scenes with 5 or more people, simply because that's too many people for me to compute writing at once

Child characters in a pairing that is not platonic (While I may START the characters off at a younger age, or they may initially meet as kids, their romantic relationship will not start until they are at least 16, and I absolutely will not write smut or major expressions of affection until they are 18+)

Descriptions of childbirth

Abuse

Drug use

Heavy mental illness. I'd like to keep my content relatively light in that aspect

Age gaps of over 10 years in pairings

Smut where one character is sober and the other is blackout drunk. If I write drunk smut, both characters will be the same level of drunk

Some things that I feel I should mention I WILL write (basically don't be afraid to request these bc I will not judge you and am probably into it as well):

(is this calling myself out? probably)

I will write male/male-bodied readers for both sfw and nsfw, however if you send a request in for that please understand it might not be perfect as I am a fem-bodied person who is not experienced at writing dude anatomy (at least not yet) :) I will do my best!!!

Monsterfucking; demons, vampires, (tentacles?) any of it

Polyamorous pairings

Threesomes, foursomes

NSFW (obviously)

BDSM

Pregnancy (again, I will not describe childbirth, but I will write pregnant characters if asked)

Drinking/getting drunk, but I will age the characters up to 21.

If I write an age gap, both characters will be at least 21

I will attempt horror themes, but since I don't consume a lot of that kind of media, it might not be great lol

Headcanons! Ask me what I think their fave ice cream is, or how they take their coffee, or how they are in bed, idk. I've already got some written, so keep an eye out for those

General rules when requesting:

Include the AU that you want me to write for, otherwise I will just pick one I think fits with your request (if that's what you want that's cool too but let me know that you want a random AU pls)

Let me know the gender of the reader. I will write any gender, but if you don't let me know, I will default to gender neutral

Tell me the content, and level of sfw/nsfw: is it just the characters interacting, fluff (lmk if it's platonic or romantic fluff), light smut, or something nsfw that's a little more hardcore? 😈

Furthermore, if you want a specific kind of smut, let me know!

I will not write anything longer than 5k words for requests, so keep that in mind

Please SPECIFY if you don't want me to write curse words into a fic. Otherwise, there will be strong language. I'll usually tag for it anyway, but this is a heads up

SO BASICALLY ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS WHEN YOU REQUEST PLS:

ship (person x person) or headcanons (and who they're for)

gender of reader

AU or setting

NSFW level: 1 - random interactions, 2 - fluff, 3 - smut

specify the fluff/smut if you have something specific in mind

violence? yes/no

cursing? yes/no

╚══════════════════════════════════════════╝

I am considering taking commissions if you want me to write YOU or a named OC with a character, and the fic will be sent privately to you, but that's for the future ;) If you're interested in something like that, send in an ask! If enough people are interested I'll def do it

[whyiask]

Just a Stupid Dare (ch.11)

Masterpost Ao3 Link tw/cw: virgil has some anxiety. I think that's it. Notes: one word to describe Virgil right now is Gay. Roman thinking some deep thoughts. enjoy. you have a few chapters of fluff to prepare yourself for the worst, dw :D

This...was nice. This rhythm they had fallen into, eating lunch together, meeting sometime in the evening to just hang out. It was Friday, and Virgil didn't know how time had flown by so quickly. It wasn't fair. He wasn't ready yet.

Come Monday, Janus would break apart everything they'd become. Come Monday, it would mean nothing.

It didn't bother him in the slightest. Not one bit.

Now, now, he said to himself, no need to lie. Wouldn't want to be like Janus, now would we?

Virgil always associated Janus with lies in his mind. Just like Roman was to theater as Remus was to a spiked metal baseball bat; and Logan was to science as Janus was to lies. But truly, everybody lies. The only difference is whether you're lying or you're lying to yourself. Both are equally as addicting. Both are equally as spiraling and both would lead you down a path of hurt. Virgil didn't know which kind he hated more.

Thinking about all the lies in his life always sent Virgil spiraling, too. And there he was, on a bench with Roman, Friday night. Lying to himself, lying to his friend, and breaking down silently.

"Hey," Roman said softly, nudging his shoulder. "You good?"

"I'm fine."

Roman sent Virgil his most scolding look.

"I will be fine," Virgil amended.

Roman nodded, absently taking Virgil's hand and squeezing it. It was warm and flush against Virgil's cold skin.

"Why is your skin freezing?" Roman nearly yelped.

"You know what they say," Virgil replied, flushing a bit. "Your body heat reflects your soul."

"Oh please," Roman rolled his eyes fondly. "You always pretend to be so dark and brooding. We all know it's an act."

Roman's face was closer now. Why was he so close? The sunset lit up his features with an ethereal glow that only Roman could possibly achieve.

Focus, Virgil.

Virgil tuned back into what Roman was saying.

"-feels stereotypical. If this were a movie, I reckon we'd kiss right here on this bench."

Virgil flushed harder, stuttering out an awkward reply, before finally settling on, "oh?"

Roman took that as an invite to expand on the idea.

"And!" He cried out, making a grand gesture. "There'd be a sappy speech right about now. Maybe I'd profess my undying love for you. Maybe you'd do the same. And in this same spot, only a few months later, is where we would break up. We'd get into an argument, and I'd dramatically storm away. The sky would start to rain."

The corners of Virgil's lips quirked upwards. Roman's brightness was so infectious, Virgil decided to ignore the fact that he was basically planning out a whole ass fanfic for them and their non-existent relationship.

"But maybe someday, we'd make it up to each other. And...maybe someday, we'll be right back here again, and everything will be so much more confusing than it is now. Maybe we'll be in this same position again, and everything will be so familiar and... nothing and everything will be the same. One can only dream of a story like that. Fairytales don't come true, but maybe happy endings can."

Virgil nodded, not much he could say in response, and Roman lowered his arms slowly.

"That's all I really want, I think. A happy ending."

Virgil tilted his head to the side. "A happy ending is still a lot to wish for."

"I'm not gonna wish. I'm going to make it happen. It's not luck, it's action."

Virgil snorted softly. "Now you just sound like a motivational poster."

Roman looked at him, a dead serious look painted across his face. "If that's what it takes," he said, before breaking character and falling into peals of laughter.

Virgil's smile stretched. "If a happy ending is too much to ask for, then I'd settle for a content one. Or a hopeful one," he said, after a moment of contemplation.

"Those are two very different things," Roman frowned slightly.

"I know."

"I think I could settle for a hopeful ending to my story."

"Do you think of all things as cinematic or just another page in a book?" Virgil asked, genuinely curious.

Roman hesitated for a moment. “I like to think of life as one big storybook. And I know-” he rushed on, “-that it’s not, and it never will be. I know things don’t always work out. But it gives me hope, y’know? That even if the whole world is against me, things will still work out okay in the end. That I’ll be satisfied when the day is done. I think that’s what I’m afraid of, to be transparent. I’m scared that one day I’ll look behind me, and everything that used to be there will be gone, and I will die without ever leaving my mark.”

He looked weary, an expression Virgil had never seen on Roman’s face before.

“I like believing in the fantastical because in a story, a movie, a musical, everyone plays a part. They say ‘there are no small roles’ in theater, and it’s true. Everyone is there for a reason. I don’t want to live life without ever finding mine.”

Virgil hummed in agreement, and sat back, letting his head rest on Roman’s shoulder. Virgil didn’t know what was going to happen in the future, and the idea of time passing always gave him chills, but whatever happened, Virgil knew he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.

If life is a story, Virgil thought, then this is by far the best chapter.

.

---

.

Virgil was starting to regret everything. It had been an accident when he hit send on the text inviting Roman over for the weekend. Maybe he had typed it, but he wasn't actually going to send it, for crying out loud.

Too late now, he supposed.

Too late when Roman was already standing outside his door with a duffel bag, familiar coat, familiar red glasses, familiar coiffed hair. Familiar smile, familiar bright sparkling eyes.

...too late for any takebacks now.

"Fancy seeing you here, stranger," Roman joked, standing awkwardly for a minute before Virgil startled out of his anxiety-induced trance and gestured him inside.

“Welcome, welcome, to my humble abode, princey,” Virgil said, taking Roman’s jacket almost by instinct and hanging it on the coatrack. His father was out of town for the weekend, so they wouldn’t need to worry about that, which gave Virgil some small sense of comfort.

Roman slid out of his shoes, placing them by the door and heading up the stairs to Virgil’s room.

Virgil flittered about, wringing his hands together.

“I don’t have- ah, an inflatable bed or anything, so you can sleep on the couch downstairs if that’s okay?” Virgil said quickly. “If not, that’s fine too, we can figure something out- or, unless you brought an inflatable mattress? No, that’s weird, nevermind, you probably didn’t-”

“Hey,” Roman cut off Virgil’s ranting with a fond smile. “It’s okay, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Maybe it was something about the hysteria of the moment, or the adrenaline running through Virgil’s veins, but Roman’s words seemed to break through his walls, clear as a bell and easy to focus on. Virgil clung to Roman’s voice like a lifeline.

He breathed. And again. This was fine, it was just Roman. Somehow the thought simultaneously soothed his nerves and scared him more.

It was just Roman, funny, charming, Roman. Roman who made him feel real compared to the Dark Sides. Roman who could light up his world with one glance.

Roman, his platonic friend who he loved platonically, as a friend. As friends do.

Ah.

He would be fine, because this was just his friend. Nothing more. And they were going to have a fun time. As friends do.

Because they were friends. Platonic friends. He was just filled with so much platonic love for Roman.

Mhm. Yep.

For some reason, he was beginning to question it.

[nerdlifecentral]

Unknown Secrets [3]

Summary: Y/n joins the hunt for the mysterious nephidemon, but she finds out some shocking information that brings them closer to saving this town from the clutches of Asmodeus’ child.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, reader, Gabriel, Castiel, Mick, Ketch, Asmodeus

Pairing: everyone platonic

Genre: Angst, bit of fluff

Word Count: 3,906

Warnings: none :)

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but here it finally is! <3

I pull up next to Baby in front of the small motel. "So we meet again, beautiful." I say lovingly, patting the roof of Dean's beloved car. I walk up to room number 63. The six has a loose screw which makes it look more like a nine, so I hope it really is room 63.

My anxiety is quelled when I see Ketch open the door with a wide, relaxed smile. "Hello, darling. I hope you didn't spend all of last night trying to research just to show off,” he says while giving me a hug and playfully winks, prompting Mick to shake his head from his spot at a small table across from Sam, whose laptop is open and running some sort of crazy code.

"No, not this time. Although I have always been the brains behind the operations when it comes to you two." 

Mick let out a chuckle while Ketch simply rolls his eyes and went to lounge on the couch. Sam then gets up, somewhat awkwardly and offers a quick hug.

"So," he starts, "me and Dean tried to dig up anything extra we could have skipped over in either demon lore or any offspring they could produce." I nod for him to continue as he takes a seat and turns his computer towards me. "The only thing that could be a possible lead is the tracking spell Rowena used and there's been a history of weird weather patterns - especially lightning storms for almost forty years. So that means that either Asmodeus or his child has been here for at least forty years."

I rest my chin on my hand and think about what could explain this Prince of Hell living in my town for forty years. I mean, how have I never ran into him or seen anything weird even once?

The door opens and in walks Dean with lots of beer and various snacks, along with a pie that I assume to be cherry.

"Alright, what's the game plan guys? FBI or some basic computer research?" Dean asks, putting away his items and walking over to his bed and plopping down looking at me.

"Sam was just catching us up on the weather stuff y'all found last night." I respond, noticing Sam's open laptop. "Although I think it would make the most sense if Asmodeus was here for, let's say, twenty years, scoping the place out and getting other Hunters to believe that the storms would be normal so no one bats an eye once his child is born, and they could live here for maybe twenty more years, completely undetected."

After a short pause, Mick speaks up, "It is certainly possible and the most likely lead we have. Why else would he want to risk staying in one area for that long?" 

Sam sighs and nods in agreement and slides his computer to face himself again.

"So, y/n," Dean starts and I pick my head up and look to him, "has anyone ever seemed off to you or someone you heard of being born thirty to forty years ago?"

I snort a laugh and respond. "You named most of the folks in this town. Most people have grown up here all their lives and don't really have the desire to move away. Not many long term or consistent visitors either."

Ketch stands up from the couch and walks over to Mick snatching a notebook sitting next to him. He says, "alright, who could be the most likely candidates for being this monster, y/n?"

I rubbed my eyes and leaned back, trying to narrow down who to say, but all I could see were faces morphing into each other and names swirling through my thoughts. "How should I narrow it down?" I ask with my eyes closed for a moment, opening them only because of the sound of Sam typing on his computer and Ketch speaking.

"Let's start with anyone especially strange or out of the ordinary, people between thirty and forty who have lived here their whole lives, only children, maybe anyone who doesn't know their parents or their mother died in birth."

I take a deep breath and start naming people that fit any or all of the criteria Ketch described while explaining which characteristics they have as Ketch writes the addresses that I can remember and Sam types up the list.

It takes us a few hours of narrowing down and organizing everyone into sizable chunks and who our most likely hidden monster is. Luckily, everyone lived nearby and Dean brought back some good food choices. Well, as good as gas station and tiny grocery store food can get.

"I vote we get a move on with this list and split up a bit to cover more ground." Ketch suggests.

Sam glances at Dean as he says "Works for me. We going for FBI on this one?"

The group nods as Dean butts in saying, "We'll go through the people in these neighborhoods," he waves his hand over the section towards the east, "and you three can take the rest." He says while pointing at me.

"Alright, let's get ready and get a move on." I say, standing up and walking out to grab some gear. I can’t help but think how odd it is that I have grown up with these people and all this time one of them could be such a horrible, dangerous creature. My palms almost itch with the anticipation of making my town, and the world a safer place. But I can’t help but wonder if we’re making the right decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Last house will be just to the left of Willow Street.” Mick says from the passenger side, directing Ketch to our final stop before it got too late.

I don’t even know how we’re gonna find this nephidemon at this point. No one we’ve talked to all day has said or remembered anything that would help us remotely. Hopefully Sam and Dean have had some better luck, I think as Ketch pulls up to the curb across from the house.

We all climb out of the car and casually walk up to the front door, Ketch and Mick with their badges and me prepared for the endless complaints this case will earn me from the locals for bringing the feds to their doorsteps. But, if I can possibly help out Mick, Ketch, Cas, and the Winchesters with something like Asmodeus or his freak kids, then it’s worth it. The door opens revealing Fred and his wife, Josie with polite smiles on their faces.

“Hey, Fred and Josie! How have you guys been?” I ask, smiling warmly.

Josie responds for them both. “We’re doing just fine, dear. You should join us for game night next time!” 

I laugh and nod enthusiastically, about to explain and introduce the two "agents" beside me when Fred beats me to it. “Who are your friends? They visitors?” he interjects with slightly narrowed eyes and hands shoved in his pockets.

��Of course, my apologies. These are FBI agents McCullough and Morgan.” They both hold up their badges with calm expressions. “They’re old friends of mine and have been looking for someone they think might have been hanging around here for awhile. I figured you both have excellent memories and I was hoping you wouldn’t mind us taking a few moments of your day to help them find a potential suspect?” I slightly tilt my head and try to look as innocent and eager to help as possible. Fred and Josie have always treated me as one of their own children and I certainly hope Ketch doesn’t offend them in any way.

“It’s no problem at all. Very nice to meet you gentlemen. As y/n stated I am Josie Hutcherson and this is my husband, Fred.” Josie, being the polite and kind person that she is, shook hands with Ketch and Mick, welcoming us all inside.

One nice thing about living in a small town is how nothing really changes; not the people, the drama, and not any buildings save for the occasional fresh coat of paint or new lamp. Having something constant is always welcome, especially when it feels like the world is ending.

"What case did you say you were helping them with, y/n?" I'm drawn out of thoughts by Mrs. Hutcherson kindly sitting down across from Mick and Ketch, Fred still choosing to stand near his wife with crossed arms.

"They're trying to track the movement of a very dangerous criminal, they have reason to believe he stayed here awhile back and then left." 

Josie smiles at me and turns back to the "agents" to speak, but Fred says, "Uh huh. And why does the FBI want to take up your time in this what I would think would be a highly classified search?"

Fred may mean well, but words were always something he left to Josie. Hopefully he's only put off by Mick and Ketch, I would really hate for them to be hiding this demon kid.

"Y/n here knows almost every person in this town, and from what she's told us she is extremely attentive as well." Mick offers, "We were looking around aimlessly until we met her. My partner actually was interviewing her and she offered to help us look around town for a little bit." He gave a reassuring smile towards Josie and a firm nod towards Fred.

"Now, have either of you noticed anyone strange at all in the past thirty to forty years? They would be extremely charismatic but slightly arrogant as well. And maybe looked something close to this picture." Ketch asks while pulling out a picture of the current vessel of Asmodeus. Even though we aren't sure he was in this vessel when having a kid, it's the best bet we have in recognizing him at all.

Both Josie and Fred denied anyone acting out of the ordinary or ever seeing that picture before. I could tell Mick and Ketch wanted to keep interviewing Josie since she was more open, so I tried to get Fred a little ways away to get through to him better. "I know that you don't really care for the FBI and sticking their noses where nothing has happened, Fred. "He uncrosses his arms with a sigh and a reluctant nod. "But this guy is a really bad guy and they asked me who would be the most attentive people to ask about. And you and your wife were the first I thought of, that's all."

After Fred agrees to be more open to answering their questions, I smile and thank him before walking back out toward the living room where Mick and Ketch are standing up.

"Y/n, I believe we shouldn't take up anymore of these people's time. Thank you both so much for all your help." Mick says with a kind smile and handshake with Josie, then Fred.

"Thank you Josie and Fred, I'll come over when I can," I say with a wave out the door and down the sidewalk. Mick and Ketch also exit and walk back to their car.

"Anything you guys picked up on?" I question, lowering my voice with caution.

Ketch closes his eyes and with a short huff of air responds "Not really. The only odd thing Mrs. Hutcherson mentioned were the persistent lightning storms that drove everyone inside, except for this one time. There was a man and a small child who were outside in the middle of the road, completely unprotected. Just gazing up into the sky for a few hours...."

Thunder, so loud that it feels as though the earth beneath my feet shakes. I look up in wonder as brilliant flashes of lightning take over the dark sky. A warm hand rests on my shoulder, its presence keeping me focused and grounded.

I glance up to the man, who has a prideful smile and warm eyes, and I remember feeling safe despite the chaos and danger surrounding us.

The man speaks, sounding southern and calm. "My daughter, this will be our last night together, I was hoping for more time with you but it's far too dangerous." I tilt my head in question, turning to face him more. He continues, "Someday all of this will seem like a dream for you. That's when your purpose will become clear. And we will be united once again."

I feel tears starting to form, this is my father, he can't abandon me now! "But father, when will that happen? And how long after I remember will I see you again?" He bends down to my level taking both my hands in his.

"I know I will miss you, my child, but I would rather feel this heartache than know you are at risk from Hunters. They are so dangerous and you must always be careful around them. Alright?" I nod my head and hug my father, one last time. I hear him speak once more. "I love you, never forget that." And the whole world goes silent.

I faintly hear voices speaking to me but I couldn't make out what they are saying. I know it’s Mick and Ketch. What on Earth are they doing here? The entire case comes flooding back to me, the Winchesters, Asmodeus, his kid, my strange hallucination. I struggle to open my eyes met with blinding light and someone, Sam, I think, sitting next to me.

"I'm sorry Sam, but there is no way for me to understand why she fainted. She appears to be in good health, not dehydrated, having enough food and energy. I can't find anything wrong." Cas says, slightly leaning his head back from his place at the end of a bed, near a small mirror on the wall.

I try to sit up and ask what's going on, but Sam gently pushes my shoulders back onto the mattress.

"Hey, y/n don’t sit up yet, alright? You've been passed out for a while. Do you remember anything?" Sam speaks calmly and softly, as though speaking too loud may cause me to lose consciousness yet again.

"I remember helping you guys on a case," I start, realizing how quiet my voice is and how hard it is to speak clearly. "You and Dean went to interview some people and Mick, Ketch, and me did the same. I remember leaving their house and walking out to the car..." I trail off, too unsure of how much I should reveal before learning whether it's a weird vision, or... a memory? I shake my head at the thought. It's simply impossible. I glance at Sam then Castiel while saying "I think that's all I can remember, sorry."

Sam gives a gentle smile just as the front door opens, revealing Dean, Ketch, and another person. He's the shortest out of all the men but has a confidence about himself, sandy blond hair that's longer than Dean's but shorter than Sam's, with beautiful whiskey colored eyes.

"Morning, Sunshine. Feeling any better?" Ketch asks, dragging my attention away from the newcomer.

"A little. My brain is still kinda foggy though. What happened?" I ask, looking between Mick and Ketch hoping they can help me discern reality from fiction.

"Well," Mick begins, "we had finished interviewing the Hutchersons and walked out to our car. I told you what Mrs. Hutcherson had told us about seeing a man and a child during a lightning storm, and you fainted."

He explained, taking a seat on my other side. I just stared at him for a while, trying to understand what had happened. I'm not a person who regularly faints, and this simply cannot be a coincidence.

"Okay, um thank you." I say, surprised at how numb I sound. "Also, who are you?" I ask, looking at the strange man sitting at the table with Dean.

He smirks and responds "I'm Gabriel, like the Archangel." He puts his hands next to his shoulders, waving them to mimic flying.

Dean rolls his eyes while Cas stares annoyed at Gabriel's actions. I guess that sort of makes them brothers?

"Naturally. Well, I'm y/n and didn't realize you were joining us." I tilt my head at Mick slightly and he makes a point to stare at Sam across from me.

"Yeah well neither did we." Dean speaks up, glancing at Cas.

The angel sighs and faces me "Gabriel was kidnapped by Asmodeus for his grace, a little over four months ago. Ketch used to work with him and was able to get Gabriel back to the bunker." I look to Ketch who looks down, almost in shame. Then to Gabriel who simply rests his head on his hand and shrugs. Cas continues, "I called Gabriel here since he deserves to be in on taking down Asmodeus, and it certainly won't hurt to have his help."

"But enough about me," Gabriel exclaims suddenly. He looks over to Sam, raising his hands up in question. Why can these idiots never just say what they need to say rather than act all secretive?

Sam takes a deep breath and turns slightly to better face me. "Y/n, I know you're not going to remember everything. But, " he pauses, searching my eyes while being careful to not give anything away.

"But...?" I prompt, looking around only to be met with Gabriel staring with anger towards me. Which is unbelievably rude and unfair, considering how I literally just met him.

"But, are you sure there's nothing else you can remember? Any detail or generic thing?" Sam finishes, with an understanding smile. I don't know what he could mean by that though, I mean, I was passed out for a long time and I don't think people can speak while being unconscious in that sense.

I shook my head no after thinking for a moment. Gabriel let's his head fall back in dramatic fashion while mumbling something under his breath.

"Sorry my answer isn't the one you wanted, Gabriel." His head snapped up and glared at me. What is this guy's problem? "But I barely remember even walking out to the car, let alone any specific details of our last interview."

"You're lying," Castiel said from the corner of the room, a perplexed look on his face. I wanted to ask what he meant but he continued, "you woke up in Ketch and Mick's car and described something very disturbing." I try not to shrink under the angel's condemning gaze; because I actually don't remember waking up at all until being in the motel. The disturbing thing I described, I don't think I will ever be able to forget.

"I don't remember that at all. I had no idea I woke up before five minutes ago."

Gabriel stands up and snaps his fingers in one motion and I immediately find myself in the backseat of the Impala with Castiel next to me.

"What the hell was that for?!" I say trying to steady myself from falling to one side or the other.

Castiel barely spares me a look and explains "Gabriel snapped us both here to have some kind of privacy I assume."

I try to open the door handle but Cas reaches over to grab my arm, and locks the door. He refuses to let go of me whether because of my continued swaying or because he thinks I could outrun him or something.

"Okay, and what exactly are you doing here? I wouldn't think he would want privacy from you if he's saying his piece."

Castiel finally releases my arm but gives no answer, and instead, looks out the window.

I do the same hoping that Gabriel and the Hunters don't take all day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Back in the motel room)

Y/n and Cas had disappeared from the room thanks to Gabriel.

"Really, Gabe? You probably could've just asked them to leave the room for a minute." Sam says, exasperated with Gabriel already.

Gabriel takes a deep breath and slowly walks around the room, in deep thought.

Dean uncrosses his arms, letting them rest on either side of the motel chair while watching the archangel pace the room, waiting for an answer.

"What have you got to say that you didn't feel y/n or Cas should hear then?" Mick stands from the bed and asks, squaring his shoulders and walking towards Gabriel with annoyance.

Gabriel pauses his movements, stopping in front of Mick while saying, "Cas already knows what I'm gonna tell you, that's why he's with y/n right now." He turns back looking at Ketch. "She did just wake up after being knocked out for a few hours and I'd rather not be responsible for a casualty already."Gabriel brushes by Ketch to sit on the spot that he vacated. "And I doubt she would appreciate her being told how probable it is that she is this nephidemon we've been looking for."

The room falls silent as the Hunters process his words.

"And why exactly do you think this?" Sam asks Gabriel, a shocked expression on his face. "She literally volunteered to help us with this case without any kind of convincing from any of us. If she is the nephidemon, then wouldn't she want to get as far away from all of us as possible?"

Gabriel closes his eyes and leans his head against the bed's worn bed frame, "Sam, I can't put my finger on it but when I first saw her, she reminded me of Asmodeus all over again." He slowly opens his eyes, keeping them focused on the ceiling missing the spark within them. I can only assume that kind of trauma doesn’t leave a person - or archangel I guess unaffected.

"Well, try to. We have to figure this out now, or come up with a plan on testing her or something," Dean says, rubbing his temples still trying to understand how y/n could have played them all along. How she could have played Ketch and Mick for even longer.

Gabriel sighed saying, "I don’t know if this will make you feel better, I doubt she knows herself if she's related to Asmodeus. She doesn't act like him at all, and from what you've said she sounded confused, scared even by what happened when she passed out."

The group relaxes but only slightly. "How could she possibly not know?" Ketch thinks aloud, "and why would a single memory or hallucination suddenly reemerge right now?"

Gabriel only shrugs, not really being able to provide any kind of a possible answer or solution. Mick shakes his head and offers "He could have wiped her memory in order to protect her. That is why we initially thought the nephidemon would be here for so long." Dean slowly nods while Sam rubs his eyes in frustration. "And maybe Ketch describing what Mrs. Hutcherson saw triggered part of her memory to come back; why she passed out."

The men sat in silence, mulling over everything Gabriel brought up, before anyone could move to suggest anything further, the archangel snapped his fingers and slowly let his hand drop back down to the bed.

"Figured it might be smarter to ask her about it, maybe search her memory or something." He states, beginning to act a bit more normal, as they wait tensely for y/n and Cas to walk back through the door.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Can you write about MJ’s internal thoughts as Peter started clearly flirting with /her/ and liking her back and reciprocating? 😍

Hello!! Sorry this took so long, but YES OF COURSE I can write this!! I have been so excited to write this all week and am so glad I can finally share it with you guys!!

It’s been a bit since I’ve seen the movie, so I may not have gotten some of the exact quotes right, and it’s a little brief, but I hope you enjoy!!

Thank you for the lovely request, anon

Here is about 1.5k of PURE fluff and a teensy bit of angst

.

.

It takes every ounce of strength MJ has in her hormone riddled teenage body not to visibly show any of the emotional whiplash that comes from Ned asking Betty to swap seats with Peter due to a surprising perfume allergy, to Mr. Harrington hijacking the whole switcheroo and subsequently placing her right next to Brad Davis. She doesn’t even have time to imagine What Could Have Been™, no time to feel the slight sting of disappointment of not getting to sit next to her dumb crush, before her teacher basically forces a game of musical chairs onto them, Ned now in her old spot next to Betty, Peter sandwiched between both chaperones, and of course, herself next to Brad. 

It could certainly be worse, she figures. Mr. Harrington could have made her sit next to Flash, or something. Brad’s nice enough. He’s smart, pretty funny on occasion, and she’d be lying if she said that he wasn’t at least a little bit attractive. She had eyes, she wasn’t blind; the boy was more than easy on the eyes.

But she didn’t like him like that.

He didn’t have that same cute, boyish charm.

He didn’t fill her with those same, stupid, bubbly nerves.

And he was no Peter Parker.

It was much more ideal that she wasn’t sitting next to the real object of her affection. Over the past few months, Peter’s been getting progressively weirder and weirder around her, and as observant and perceptive as she was, she couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for his change in demeanor. This proved to be endlessly frustrating as someone who spent a good chunk of her time watching him from a distance. Numerous times she’d caught him staring at her, that same dopey little expression he’d had when staring at Liz. But sometimes, he couldn’t even look her in the eye when she was right in front of him, instead, his gaze trained on his feet as his hands wring together, his voice a shaky octave higher than normal. 

“I brought a dual headphone adapter.” Brad’s voice cuts through her inner monologue, an easy smile stretched across his face. “In case you wanted to watch a movie, or something.”

She’d once toyed with the idea that maybe, just maybe, it was because Peter liked her back, that his nerves came from feelings of the Romantic™ variety.

See, she’s only about 42% sure– maybe even less than that– that there’s even a possibility that Peter Parker might like her back.

“Only if it’s really depressing.” She deadpans, leaning back against the head rest. “Or hilarious.”

Brad’s smile only widens.

Yes, perhaps this was a better idea. A good distraction.

–

She sees him step out of the jewelry shop, tiny golden gift bag in hand, and there’s a brief glimmer, and entirely unwelcome, hint of wishful thinking at the back of her mind that it’s something for her. But she quickly shakes that thought away. It was impossible. She and Peter were just friends; nothing more than that. 

The way he looks at her as she’s describing the fine inventions of the Italians makes her stomach do these weird Olympian-level back handsprings, and she silently curses him for being so… so… so Peter. This would be so much easier if he weren’t himself. She dares to ask what’s in the bag, and she can’t help but notice the mild panic that flickers in his eyes as he glances between her and the gift in his hand. 

She smiles, nodding in approval as he throws the perfect word, “bo,” right back at her.

–

Honestly, at this point she’s never been more disappointed in herself for being so damn oblivious. How the hell did it take her so long to figure out that, yeah, maybe Peter does like her back? It’s not a realization that hits her like a truck, nothing like that. It sneaks up on her, little by little, piece by piece until it all comes together, and she feels like a proper idiot for being so invested in her own feelings that she doesn’t even consider that he might have the exact same ones. 

It’s kind of like how she’s only about 67% sure that he’s Spider-Man. It’s something that’s pretty freaking obvious when you think about it, but she doesn’t want to get ahead of herself. 

Her heart nearly bursts out of her chest, butterflies erupting in her stomach when he tells her she looks pretty just before the opera. She barely has a second to react when her brain seems to go on auto-pilot, and the sarcasm just flies right out of her mouth before she can even stop it. 

“Therefore I have value?”

Peter sputters, frantically trying to explain himself in a way that’s not cute in the slightest.

She has to laugh, though it’s quiet, and she shows mercy. “I’m messing with you.”

And now her heartbeat seems to be one of the only things she can hear in this moment as he sighs in relief, smiling up at her, the expression widening when she tells him that he looks pretty, too. 

Okay, yeah, she’s 67% sure that Peter Parker might like her back. 

–

The pit in her stomach is a concoction of both nervousness and excitement as they walk side-by-side on the bridge. The faintest brush of their knuckles sends those dumb butterflies into overdrive, and she instantly yanks her hand away. She catches his gaze a few times, offering a tight-lipped smile in return. Slowly, she starts to question why she agreed to this… date, walk-thing, evening ambulation, or whatever it was, and the giddiness in her belly gradually melts into dread. 

Truthfully, she’s never had very much luck with relationships, both romantic and platonic. It wasn’t really her area. She was happy just staying on the sidelines, a background character in their daily teenage lives. Getting close to others has never been something she’s been very good at, the idea of putting that much trust into another person only for them to potentially shatter it into a million tiny pieces putting almost the fear of God itself in her. That was the whole reason why she never did anything like this, never pursued anything with anyone. 

She can’t help but feel like Peter’s about to confess something to her. Something big. 

And she doesn’t give him the chance to say it for himself.

“That’s what you were going to say; that you’re Spider-Man.”

The pain didn’t really seem worth it.

Which was why, in a last minute change of heart, she goes against her regular, trademark brutal honesty and lies when Peter asks if him being Spider-Man was the only reason she was watching him. 

“Why else would I be watching you?”

If neither of them said anything, neither of them got hurt.

It was easier just to be alone.

–

She didn’t have a whole lot of time to admire the necklace the old sweaty guy gave her, but that doesn’t stop the warmth that blooms in her chest when she holds it in her hand. She still thinks of it, burning a hole in her pocket, as they’re all seconds away from what they assume is their imminent demise, and she is instantly filled with regret for never telling Peter how she felt. 

Which is why she doesn’t take a second thought as she sprints from the tower and to the bridge, mace in hand, ready to help her Peter no matter what as the drones fall to the ground. He’s standing there, battered, broken, and limping as she throws herself into his arms, bodies drawn together like two magnets. She can feel him shaking in her embrace, and she tightens her hold, mumbling her worries into the crook of his neck.

She shows him the broken necklace as they pull apart. Her favorite flower, the Black Dahlia, now in pieces. Her heart flutters in her chest as he takes her hand in his, disappointment clouding his features as he stares at the shards of glass, apologizing profusely and going on about some grand plan he had.

And she can’t help but kiss him. 

Yeah, it’s a little awkward and entirely too quick, because again, she’s never really done this before, but she still can’t help but smile at the way his eyes widen in surprise, even if her body feels as if it’s on fire as she waits for his reaction. 

“You kissed me.”

Maybe another time she would have made fun of him for pulling a straight-up, Captain Obvious moment, but she holds back, instead, her voice nearly failing her as she confesses her true feelings, that she lied when she said she’d only been watching him because she thought he was Spider-Man. It’s a scary thing, and she desperately fights against her own flight response at putting herself in such a vulnerable situation, setting herself up for what could be the worst pain in the world. 

But she doesn’t care. 

He apologizes again for the necklace being broken, but she stops him, the corners of her lips twitching upward as she tells him that she likes it better that way. 

His voice breaks as he smiles at her, like she’s the best damn thing he’s ever seen, eyes welling with happy tears, as he says the words she’s always wanted to hear.

“I really like you.”

A breathy, nervous chuckle escapes her as she matches his expression, and she feels as if she might explode into a million, tiny little overjoyed pieces. 

“I really like you too.” 

And after all of this, she can safely say that she’s about 100% sure that Peter Parker likes her back.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

absolute top favourite tony h/c fic recs?

Thank you for the ask and sorry for taking so long to answer! I have a recommendation section here on my blog, but I extended it a bit and posted it below:

Cat’s Tony hurt/comfort fic recs

Long works

If you’re up for a dark, violent, and incredibly touching and well written novel in which Tony and Peter are broken and put back together countless times, go for How to repair a broken heart by InfluentialPineapple. In my opinion, it’s one of the best pieces of literature ever written anywhere, even outside of the fanfic-realm. It describes a journey on which Tony and Peter slowly grow together, and although it´s terribly sad and extremely whumpy, you can see the love the author has for their characters in every single line. Injury, illness, violence, torture, anxiety, PTSD, this one´s got everything, so please heed the TWs.

Dark Memories by @trammelsb: This story is centered around child (sexual) abuse. But it is so much more than Tony suffering through flashbacks and panic attacks (although there is a great deal of that) and being comforted by his team members, especially Bruce, his partner. It is about Tony going through a great deal of character development, learning that he is not to blame for what has happened. The author doesn´t shy away from all the heavy topics, but she also never ceases to treat the characters with respect, In the end, it seems to be a story about not giving up, and despite all the pain it causes when you read it, the feeling that stays is that it´s worth to keep fighting.

Arc Tremors by @rose-on-the-mountain: 44 epic chapters of Whump and the kind of fluff that is not fluffy at all, rather makes your heart overflow with emotions. It´s Avenger-family centric, including Pepper and Rhodey and wonderful robot characters, themed around an illness that forces Tony to go through a difficult heart procedure. Everyone’s shadows and traumas get their due, and it balances darkness and light admirably well.

One Hell of a Show by MillyVeil: Clint and Tony get kidnapped and tortured. Heavily. This is one of the physically most brutal whump-fics I know - Milly is like the Tarantino of fan-fiction - but god, it´s well done. TWs for detailed descriptions of rape and violence.

Resistance by thegraytigress: Tony and Steve are captured by the Kree and held in a concentration camp-like environment for months. This is a slow-built, well thought-through love story with a lot of pain and a deep exploration of Tony´s and Steve´s characters as well as their emerging relationship. It has one of the best and most realistic aftermaths to traumatic experiences that I´ve ever read. It’s basically a book worth of heavy, heavy, heavy physical and emotional whump. Please mind the TWs.

She’s my Ride Home by OfMonstersAndMe: The most beautiful recount of how Nebula’s and Tony’s friendship develops in the 23 days they spent in space. Lots of great hurt/comfort scenes and spot-on characterisation.

450 Feet Under by Veldeia: Tony is trapped in a cave with no way out. The Avengers are on the way to get him, but when he gets seriously injured, the rescue mission becomes a race against time. 15 chapters of absolutely satisfying whump, snark, and feels. Background Stony. Simply brilliant!

Short(er) Works

Basically all Tony fics by @builder051​. I especially like this Pepperony Christmas fic and this Nat & Tony cave anxiety fic.

Strong Enough by Ranni: Steve, Tony, and Clint are held prisoner, but the real danger begins when their captors abandon the prison to let them die in their cells. Injuries, torture, pneunomia, great dialogues. Platonic relationships between the three men, really touching, but not cheesy. Ranni is one of my favourite writers, and all her other stories are equally intruiging. Monsters and Beloved Companion also have a lot of Tony Whump.

Five Times Bruce is Not That Kind of Doctor™ + One Time He’s Perfect For the Job by @whumphoarder and @awesomesockes. The most amazing mix of humour and whump you’ll ever find. I love all their fics, so some more of my Tony Whump faves are The After Party and Desperate Times.

@taylortut writes beautiful and touching fics in which Tony gets whumped around other Avengers. Mostly h/c with illness or injury (and some adorable daily-life drabbles).The stories are generally light-hearted, but not at all superficial. I still can´t decide which one is my favorite because I love all of them, so I´m putting up the general link to Taylor´s Blog. Find her here on A03.

The Minor Fall, the Major Lift by sahiya: This one is about Bruce coming back to the compound after Civil War, trying to pick up Tony´s broken pieces. It has the best characterization of Tony, Bruce and Rhodes I´ve seen in a while now. Everything about this fic seems fragile, the characters, the conversations, the shaky comfort they manage to build. It´s slow-paced, and it´s not a fix-it-all, and this is what makes it so good. Sahiya is one of the best writers out there and her series “Me through Him to You” is printworthy.

Bruce and Goose´s Truce by @twentyghosts​: After Infinity War, Tony is saved from space. Bruce medically examines him while being heavily flirted at, then they bathe together, and Tony cries, and Bruce holds him tight. Everyone is more than a little broken, but it´s okay, because they have each other back. More Tony Whump in Cold, Comfort and Unmasked.

nimentia by TinyFuryCloud: Tony and Steve have been married for more than 20 years when Tony is diagnosed with Alzheimer´s disease. This story is so terribly well done. The whole process of Tony slowly disintegrating, slowly getting lost, but somehow, somewhere, still being Tony, is recounted in precise detail with just the right mixture of matter-of-fact descriptions and emotions. Also, A+ characterisation of everyone who is and was part of Tony´s life, including Peter and Jarvis.

Hubris by @writingromanoff​: Tony gets kidnapped and tortured by Justin Hammer. Tortured, as in forced to walk for days and days in the desert without a drop of water, and that´s just the beginning. When Steve finally shows up, Tony doesn´t even know whether he´s real anymore. I still can´t decide whether the whump or the whump´s aftermath is better in this one, both are very well described. Heed the TWs (torture and humiliation, obviously, as well as ED behaviour and others). By the same author: somno, the best concussion fic in the universe, and Blue Lips, Blue Veins, which is on some other level of genius alltogether.

Just a rather very intelligent system by @darkestsight​: Seven instances of Jarvis taking control over the suit and saving Tony´s ass without anyone noticing. Not all of them are sickfics. Chapter 3 is my personal favorite and contains a physically and emotionally beaten-down and extremely tired Tony; chapter 5 has him dealing with PTSD and chapters 6 and 7 involve him getting injured. I liked the idea of it and enjoyed the interactions between Tony and Jarvis.

Pressure Point by ratherastory: Another migraine fic, with a very precise description of the pain Tony´s in and a nice amount of Starkasm. Steve as caretaker. Can be read as Stony, but doesn’ t have to. Pain and vomiting.

Home by @saber-wing​: All Tony wanted was a cup of coffee. But then Thor’s Asgardian monster pet decides to try and eat Tony’s leg for breakfast. Excellent whump, Avengers family feels and a lot of humour. The author has many more amazing whump fics!

I Can´t Exactly Hold Your Hair Back by SirSapling: This is based on the comics and not the movies. It features Tony with cancer and Steve taking care of him on one of his bad days. I like this one for its slow whump build-up. Stony. Tags for migraine, vomiting, mentions of cancer.

Bust a gut, Tones by @whimsicalethnographies: Tony has appendicitis and Peter is the only one who realises it. Perfectly balances between humour and seriousness.

Fool’s Luck by @msermesth: Steve arrives on his doorstep exactly three hours and twenty-seven minutes after Tony finishes the last word of his eulogy. LOTS of pain. TW alcohol abuse, angst and suicidal thoughts. This is short, but extremely well done.

don’t let the blue skies fade by @blancheludis: This starts as a mission-gone-wrong fic with a perfect whump setting (of course Tony has to hide his injuries from everyone) and character depth that focuses on team dynamics and the evolving relationship between Tony and Steve.

Side Effects by discipulapauper: Steve and Tony are stuck in the desert, and Tony discovers that the serum causes unexpected complications when Steve doesn´t get food and water for a long time…Nice whump scenes, good characterization and mostly non-cheesy, non-stony dialogue. Featuring heat stroke symptoms and hallucinations.

Presenteeism by Veldeia: Tony thinks it is a good idea to send an empty suit along with the team on a mission while riding out his hangover alone somewhere in the middle of Russian nowhere. Too bad his hangover turns out to be something worse…

Mohini´s prompt fill for Nov(emeto)ber 5 by @mohini-musing​: Tony is sick and Bucky doesn´t really know how to handle it. A short but greatly written fic with emeto and fever, no WinterIron.

My own fics : 40+ stories of physically and/or emotionally hurt or sick Tony

[bngtanah]

The Difference Between Boys & Girls | o1

summary: Sam & Erin are university students who share a cheap one bedroom apartment above a shitty takeaway restaurant. Due to the limited space, they’ve grown accustomed to sharing just about everything, including the occasional kiss. Despite the amount of time they spend together, their complete comfort in sharing a bed, etc, the pair continues to hold on to the idea that they are completely “platonic.” None of their friends believe this excuse, but as ridiculous as it sounds the unconventional living situation truly does seem to work for them.

Well, it used to anyway..

pairing: Jung Hoseok (Samuel Park)  x Named OC characters: meet the cast.

word count: 10k+ genre: angst, smut, fluff

chapters: o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11| 12| 13| 14

warning: boyfriend!hoseok, jealous!hoseok, friends to lovers trope, college au, angst, sexual themes, slow burn, ambw

a/n: i am a fool. I accidentally deleted my blog so this is me re-uploading EVERYTHING.

"You headed out?"

Erin's head whipped around in her roommates direction as he appeared in the doorway of their shared bedroom. He was shirtless, for no proper reason, jogging pants barely clinging to his hip bones. Sammy and Erin, to a certain extent, had stopped being shy being half-naked or completely naked around each other after a successful year of living together, and keeping things from becoming noticeably awkward between them. It was almost a tradition for them to freely walk around their tiny apartment space in the dead of winter or in the sweltering heat of summer in next to nothing.  

She turned in her seat to fully face Sammy as he flashed her one of his infamous megawatt smiles. It always amazed Erin how he did that, going from smoldering and sexy one second to unexpectedly adorable the very next. It was a talent if she ever saw one. Erin inhaled and clenched the makeup brush in her hand with a tighter grip.

“Uh, yeah. Some girls from my study group invited me out for a drink” She nodded, tapping the fluffy end of her powder brush against her knee as she did her best to keep her eyes focused on his face and not his bare chest.

“I don’t really feel like going, but it beats lying around here doing nothing with you all night,” She shrugged.

Sammy rolled his eyes and drilled his toned shoulder into the doorjamb. "You make it sound like we don’t have any fun just lying around" He replied with a gentle pout.

"Oh, so much fun," Erin reassured with a hint of sarcasm. "But I’m sure they will kick me out of the group if I keep turning down their G.N.O’s."

"They sound like shitty friends; why would you want to go out with them anyway?"

"Well, there aren’t too many people falling over themselves to hang out with an English major, some of us have to take what we can get" Erin chuckled and turned back to face the mirror to finish constructing her 'I don’t really want to be here’ face. Minimal makeup and boring straight hair.

"I enjoy hanging out with you, am I not enough?" Samuel shot back.

Why were they debating this?

The question nearly fell from Erin’s lips because it almost sounded like her roommate was trying to convince her not to go. It was a stupid thought but one that had to be considered.

"Sammy," Erin sighed. "Are you bored or something? You're a big boy I'm sure you can find some way to entertain yourself when I'm not here," She craned her head to look at him again, "Maybe catch up on some of the 'anatomy' research I caught you doing in the living room last night?"

The slight frown that was forming on Sammy's lips disappeared into a broad grin in response to Erin's statement, making her stomach flutter just slightly. She always enjoyed seeing him laugh, especially when she was the cause.

With him partially distracted, Erin took the chance to subtly drink in every inch of his toned skin. He wasn't overtly muscular, more lean than anything but cut where he needed to be. Erin concluded that he had the years he spent dancing to thank for that.  His face… Sam had a face that wouldn't seem like much at first glance but there was simply something about him that made you want to keep looking once he caught your eye. Strong jawline, straight nose, deep-set brown eyes that turned into half-moons whenever he smiled, which was often. It convinced Erin that he could make any person fall in love by doing something as simple as breathing, and you'd find yourself becoming jealous of the air that filled his lungs because it could touch him in places that you couldn't.

Not that she was in love with him, but she would be an idiot not to notice what a total hottie her roommate was.

“Whatever, noona.”

His voice snapped Erin out of her haze.

"Go out with your book nerds and paint the town beige," Sammy pushed away from the threshold, padded into the room and came to stand behind where Erin sat.

It should be noted that Erin wasn't entirely dressed either. She was in her robe, bare underneath, and silently willing her nipples not to get hard. The vanity mirror she set up cut Sammy off at the neck so all she could see was his torso just about pressed up against her back. He leaned down bringing his cheek close to her own.

She inhaled softly. The scent of his soap and cologne filled her nostrils and almost made her eyes flutter with satisfaction. She held it together though, no matter how much Erin harped on and on about not feeling anything but friendship for Samuel the past few months made it clear she wasn't sure what the hell she felt anymore.

They had been friends long before they decided to live together. Having seen each other through all the lows and highs of life since high school, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that they were more than just friends. They were basically family. Which was why Erin just couldn't bear to question exactly what had been going on between them lately. The closer than normal contact, him asking to share the bed with her because the pullout couch was messing with his back, all the goodbye kisses that seemed to linger for a second too long to be innocent. All signs pointed to the fact that he was feeling the same kind of attraction that she was, but even with all that evidence Erin just couldn't muster up the courage to call any attention to it.

Sammy brought a hand up and brushed it through gently through Erin's hair. Inwardly, her muscles tensed at his caress, and ripples of energy splintered everywhere. Erin's hair just happened to be an erogenous zone for her, but apparently only when Sammy touched it, which he did often enough.

"If you really want to go have some fun, then I'll stop bothering you," Sammy stated, twirling a strand around his index finger.

His voice sounded coarse like the words pained him to say out loud, that was probably just Erin's imagination.

Instead of responding Erin shrugged her shoulders and reached for her darkest tube of lipstick that wasn't actually black. Dreary colors usually did the trick to scare any guys planning to target her as an easy lay. To the weak of heart, they seemed to suggest hypersexuality, dabbling in witchcraft or both. Which meant whatever lame pickup line they had planned would not fly with her.

“Don't make it sound like I'm locking you in a cage here by yourself.” Erin said after a few seconds, biting into her lip when Sammy's hand smoothed down to her shoulder.

His brow scrunched, and his lips pulled down at the corners. “There's only so much I can do when you're not here.”

Erin snickered and began lining her lips in plum lipstick. “We have internet and a laptop, go nuts.”

“That's only fun when I think you're gonna catch me.”

Erin's eyebrow quirked, but she ignored that minor revelation “You're so gross.”

Sammy laughed again and that curious hand of his moved back up to Erin's neck, his thumb rubbing circles at her nape.

“You're distracting me,” She said through a soft breath.

“Ah, sorry,”  Sammy dropped his hand, but he didn't move from his spot. His eyes zeroed in on her lips while she put on her lipstick. “Is that new? I really like that color on you noona.”

Capping the lipstick, Erin smiled gently and looked forward, her eyes connecting with Sammy's through his reflection in the mirror. “When exactly did I become noona, by the way? In the years we've known each other I can count on one hand the amount of times you've called me that.”

Sammy smirked and shrugged his shoulders, "You don't like it?"

It was quite the opposite, actually. If Erin had a smidgen of confidence, she would tell him she absolutely adored hearing him call her 'noona'. She was over the novelty of the age gap a year after moving to South Korea but there was just something about the way Sammy said it. It wasn't said condescendingly or begrudgingly but with genuine love and Erin could feel that.

"Nah, it makes me feel old."

"Well, that's too bad because I enjoy saying it to you-" Sammy lowered his frame until he rested on his haunches with is chin just about resting on Erin's shoulder. "Noona."

He was too low for her to elbow him like she wanted to so Erin settled for judgmental glare before returning to her makeup. "Keep this up and I'll be waking you up in the middle of the night just to gush all about all the guys I make out with tonight, with vivid detail."

Sammy cocked a lopsided grin. "I doubt that will happen. When you spend nights making out with guys you don't want to give it up to, I usually just hear you lock the door and bzzzzz." He replied, complete with sound effects and what could only be described as his imitation of a stroke victim having an orgasm.

"Out! Right now, that's enough out of you for the night" Erin exclaimed through a mixture of laughter and embarrassed groans, turning to smack him a few times on the shoulder.

Chuckling, Sammy rose to his feet.

"All right, all right I'll go but I do have one question for you," He said as he stared down at Erin, placing his hands on his hips, and wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. Erin dug all ten of her fingernails into her kneecaps to get a hold of herself.

"What's your question, Samuel?"

"Are you planning on bringing anyone home tonight?"

Erin paused, suspicion making her eyes squint gently. That was a question she'd never heard from him before. "Why?"

"Just answer the question, Erin."

"I....don't know, probably not. Why?"

"I just wanted to know if I'd have time to try out my new noise-cancelling headphones tonight."

With that Erin rolled her eyes and stood to face him, "I've had enough of you Sammy, get out. I need to get dressed and you’re just distracting me with foolishness." Sammy only chuckled then shuffled toward the door, whistling.

Just as quickly as he left Sammy's head popped up at the corner of the entrance again. Erin stared at him expectantly.

"Why don't I come out with you tonight? I know for a fact that you only tolerate those book club girls and I know Kasey won't be coming because I was eavesdropping earlier. Come on, I'll do you a favor. ,"

Erin's fingers strummed the vanity top as she contemplated her roommate's suggestion. The girls from her study group weren't exactly nuns, but they definitely weren't the most fun to hang with on a Friday night. They also probably wouldn't take too kindly to Erin inviting a guy to their 'Girl's Night Out'. However, having Sammy around all but guaranteed that she would have a good time tonight, even if it meant getting on their bad side.

It seemed worth it right?

"Can you promise to be on your best behavior?"

He shrugged. "Probably, but that depends on what you mean by 'best'."

"Like no challenging random people to a dance off, no hitting on any of my study group members..."

Sammy laughed. "Ooh, don't think I can agree to that last request, I've been on a kind of book smart, nerdy girl kick lately."

"Ugh, whatever just don't make it obvious" Erin replied, grabbing her cellphone. "I'll text Kim and tell her I have a....friend joining me."

Sammy beamed and immediately rushed over to envelop Erin in a smothering hug, making her blush like a silly schoolgirl in return. "We're gonna have a blast, noona."

Erin grinned and stroked the smooth skin on his back softly. "I wouldn't speak too soon."

The smile on Sammy's face faltered slightly, but he made no attempt at letting her go, his hands found their way into Erin's hair again and she shuddered slightly. A response that did not go unnoticed by Sammy since their bodies were practically sandwiched together. "You don't sound convinced."

"I don't control the future; we could get hit by a car on our way there. Go cover up your nips. We have to leave soon, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah" The lean boy replied as he slowly released Erin from his grasp and began making his way toward the door for the third time that night. He paused for a second once he was in the doorway and turned to glance at Erin who was combing through her hair, "Can I make a suggestion?"

"This better not be something silly."

"Wear your hair up."

Erin blinked a few times at her reflection before her eyebrow shot upward and she swiveled her head in Sammy's direction, waiting for him to elaborate on his random suggestion.

His expression was serious, and his eyes almost appeared to be darkened. "Your hair up, with that dark lipstick…? You look irresistible."

A pang of electricity sparked right through Erin's core, it took every amount of self-restraint in her not to cross the room and smear her perfectly applied lipstick all over his toned chest.

Instead, she chose to cover up her attraction with a pleasant smile while obediently complying with his request.

 "Up it is."

[teenytinystorage]

Coinscore Arcade And Laser Tag

Summary: “The Sides all run an arcade together, each using their talents to keep it up”

Word Count: 3,872

Warnings: One very very brief mention of blood, knives, and injury, but no one gets hurt whatsoever

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Platonic/romantic prinxiety, logicality, dukeceit, & basically all the sides are besties

Notes: This fic is based on this amazing prompt I found from @sanderssides-prompts! Kudos to the anon who submitted it!!

Enjoy! :)

—

Coinscore Arcade And Laser Tag was the best arcade Gainesville, Florida could offer. And its owners Logan Middleton, Patton Heath, Roman and Remus Weston, Virgil Holmes, and Dee Webber couldn’t help but agree.

Often shortened to simply “Coinscore” for the convenience of begging kids and tired-out parents, the place had it all. Long windows in the front of the building beamed glimmering moonlight into the neon, darkly colored interior filled with music-pumping, color-flashing, ticket-spitting arcade machines.

In the front left of the building sat the prize table run by Logan and Patton, occasionally by Dee as well, with a wall hanging up packaged neon signs, inflatable aliens, plastic swords, and labels with way overpriced ticket amounts. It, of course, also had a glass shelf-table combo filled with erasers, alien-finger-toys, and parachute army men.

Right then, a couple of kids, maybe 7 or 8 or so, stood at the table, standing on their tippy-toes to set their tickets down and see how many they won.

Logan, with his tree-like lankiness, crumpled up as he crouched to grab the scale from under the table and pulled out a comically sized calculator that would only be practical in an impractical place like Coinscore.

He set the tickets into a bucket, placed it upon the scale, and quickly started to type some numbers into the calculator, all the while the kids bounced up and down and were deciding which color of alien they wanted.

Logan then looked up (or, well, down in his case) from his calculator and at the awaiting children. “Your total comes to 991 tickets.”

The kids then deflated at the admission, looking at the giant alien hung up on the wall that stared at them in otherworldly longing with its 1,000 ticket label.

One little boy ran over to his mom sitting in a chair talking with other moms and sniffly told her the tragedy. She stood, grabbing her purse, and walked over to the table.

Logan tensed. It always got serious when the mom came over.

It was at that moment Patton Heath himself walked out from the supply closet carrying two cardboard boxes stacked atop each other, his shimmering brown skin glinting in the same shade as the boxes.

“Hey Lo, my bestest friend, the platonic love of my life,” Patton smiled wide.

“Hi, Patton. I’m stuck in quite the predicament right now,” Logan answered, nodding over to the sad children and the confused but somewhat uptight mother standing on the other side of the shelf.

“Ohhhh. Not enough tickets?” Patton whispered, setting down the boxes he carried and trodding over.

Logan nodded.

Patton stood at the table and looked down at the kids. “What prize did you guys want?”

The kids sadly pointed to the giant aliens mounted on the wall in all of their extraterrestrial and airy glory.

He looked at the ticket label then back to Logan, whispering, “How much are they off?”

“One-thousand minus nine-ninety-one is nine, so they’re nine off.”

Patton turned to Logan and gave a small pout, not unlike the children’s pouts ahead of him. “It’s nine tickets off, Lo. Can’t we just give it to them?”

Logan thought for a moment, pressing his cold, long fingers onto his chin.

Patton leaned over and whispered, “Hey, hey, I get it. But I read your salary spreadsheet for the week and I can tell we’ll be fine giving away a prize for only nine tickets less. And they might tell their friends about their prize and how they got it at Coinscore and we might make even more than a breakeven amount!” Patton beamed pridefully.

Logan had a surprised look on his face. “I suppose you’re right.”

Patton turned back to the kids. “Would you guys like the red, green, or purple alien?”

“Purple!” the kids cheered, smiles coming back to their faces.

Patton unhooked a purple alien toy from the wall, detached its ticket label, and handed it to the starry-eyed kids. “Here you go! Don’t worry about the nine tickets, this little buddy’s all yours.”

The kids squealed in excitement and the mom grinned in relief. She clutched her handbag and smiled at Logan and Patton. “Thank you very much. Christian, Daria, Jacob, what do you say to the nice men?”

“Thank you!” the three children echoed as they walked with the mom out the door, smiling and squealing about their alien friend who was just as big as them.

“I didn’t know you read my salary reports, Patton,” Logan turned to start unpacking the boxes.

“I like to be a little smart sometimes,” Patton smiled, grabbing Logan’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze. “Like a certain smartie pants I know.”

Logan’s pale face bloomed with rose-pink tones, and he shook his head, a small smile across his lips.

As they got to work unpacking boxes, inside the arcade was where the real fun and drama happened.

Inside, there were all kinds of games monitored by Roman and occasionally Virgil: whack-a-mole, helicopter shooting games where players step inside a shiny plastic interior to play, ball toss, spinning wheels, hard-hitting hammer-swinging games, even an electronic Fruit Ninja game, and the classic skeeball.

And at one of the three skeeball stations stood an angered, growling 9-year-old, who chucked another ball forward into the glass cage and landed into the zero zone again.

She let out an aggravated yell before tossing her long brown hair over her shoulders, crossing her arms.

Roman, who stood at a pirate-themed wheel game and was encoring two little boys who won eight-hundred tickets, saw this outburst and, like the modern knight he was, pranced over to the distressed darling.

“Hello! You’re playing skeeball?” Roman greeted, crouching down to the girl’s height.

“Yeh, but I suck at it,” she pouted, “Hmph.”

“Here, do you want me to show you my trick on how to win? I like skeeball too,” Roman offered, and the girl reluctantly handed her one of her last two neon orange skeeballs.

Roman turned to face the glass chamber of point holes. “What I always do is focus on the wrist.” Roman bent his right hand backward, aiming it towards the skeeball ramp as he turned his eyes back to the pouting girl. “I like to think of my hand like a broken excavator, those construction cars with the big arm in front that pick up big lumps of dirt. My hand goes up super fast and flings the ball forward, just like a broken excavator would fling dirt up in the air and make dirt go everywhere!”

The girl, despite just having been mad, perked up a bit as she laughed and stepped back to watch Roman play.

Roman stood up to full height, a modest 5’5”, and stepped his left leg back and his right leg forward as he turned to face the ramp.

As he described, his hand became a broken excavator as he shot his wrist up, causing the ball to barrel forward on the ramp and land right into the sweet 1,000 point spot.

The girl smiled widely and clapped for Roman, giggling.

Roman turned and bowed sillily. “Thank you, thank you. I’m honored. Now you try,” Roman took the other skeeball from the game’s compartment and handed it to her. “Remember, broken excavator.”

The girl nodded, determined, and positioned herself like Roman had earlier with her left leg forward and right leg back (since she was left-handed), and bent her wrist back before flinging it forward and tossing the ball up the ramp and into the cool 500-point spot.

Roman smiled, clapping his hands excitedly. “What an excellent toss! Ten out of ten.”

“Thank you,” the girl smiled shyly, twirling her pink tutu around her finger. She held out her tiny hand. “I’m Melanie.”

“Nice to meet you, Melanie,” Roman grinned, giving her hand a quick shake. “I’m Roman.”

“Cool name,” Melanie added.

“Thank you!” Roman beamed, before putting on a serious face. “Alright, play another round and show me what you’ve got!”

Melanie nodded, grinning and letting two tokens clink-clink-clink down into the machine as five more skeeballs plummeted into the machine compartment.

Now, although the games and prizes were cool on their own, the hands-down coolest part about Coinscore was that the back end of the arcade was devoted entirely to a laser tag arena.

Behind the two big flashy entrance doors, the debriefing room and the vesting room, the arena was themed like an abandoned, haunted town, thanks to Remus’s suggestion.

Ripped up buildings and large open windows, bus stops, holographs of floating books and chairs projected onto the walls, long ramps up to different structures, a large platform bridge in the middle of it all, and plenty of running space for excited kids filled the massive arena space.

Dee, Remus, and Virgil ran the laser tag rodeo and also did the cleaning of the arena when arcade days were slow.

Dee’s job was to read out the rules to the ecstatic players in the empty, glowing blue debriefing room and had the kids repeat and promise not to run or hurt anyone or jump or rules like that that basically fell under anything that could cause a lawsuit. (And Dee was just finishing up law school; he knew how much lawsuits sucked.)

Meanwhile, Remus and Virgil were the “laser masters” as the kids were told to call them 3 times in a row when something went wrong or their laser gun stopped working or they got lost or anything like that.

But laser-master-worthy incidents were rare, so Remus just had to stand guard during games and hang out with Dee while Virgil got plenty of time off to help out with any extra work going on, like birthday parties or, in some cases such as this one, helping to convince a fearful kid to play laser tag.

A lonely little boy, probably 9 or so, stood outside the laser tag doors, staring at the cracked wallpaper and the spooky neon green lighting, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.

Virgil noticed this boy as he stood holding open the arena entrance and as the other boys he was with walked inside after trying tirelessly to convince him.

Virgil called out to the boy, “Are you coming in? I’m ‘bout to shut the doors.”

“I… I want to,” the boy said, still staring at the wall ahead of him. “But I’m scared.”

Virgil took in a breath. “C’mere, let me tell you something.”

The boy walked over to Virgil and stood, twiddling his fingers. Virgil crouched down on one knee.

“I know it looks scary from the outside, and you wouldn’t be wrong about that,” Virgil started, looking at the boy’s frightened face. “But believe me, it’s not scary on the inside. I promise. All it is is some broken buildings and bus stops. There’s no scary robots or scary ghosts or jumpscares. There’s no scary music or blood or knives or anything like that.”

“You’re sure?” the boy croaked out.

“One-hundred percent,” Virgil nodded as the multiple chains around his neck clinked against each other. “But if you don’t want to play this round, which is totally fine, you can watch up from the top and make sure it’s all good yourself. This round’ll be done in fifteen minutes and then the next one is the last round for tonight. You can play the last round if you deem the arena good for you.”

“I think I’ll do that,” the boy nodded quickly.

“Alright. You go up and check for me, and make sure none of your friends do anything silly, okay?”

The boy chuckled. “I’ll try, but they’re very silly.”

“I’d bet,” Virgil grinned, standing back up.

“Thank you sir,” the boy smiled.

“No prob,” Virgil waved, shutting the door behind him but before that seeing the boy speedily running up the ramp to the spectator station.

Dee and Remus were leading the kids into the dark vesting room as Virgil approached in his black work apron over his P!ATD hoodie and black jeans, making him entirely camouflaged in the blacklight except for his neon purple hair that practically made him a beacon of purple light.

“Where were you?” Remus asked, retying the ponytail that held back his lion’s mane of hair.

“Helping a kid out,” Virgil answered back.

“Well, good thing you’re here now,” Dee commented, “I think these kids are especially insolent this time, so we might need another ‘laser master’ for the tots that didn’t hear the rule about having to hold onto the blaster to shoot.”

“You got it, Jekyll,” Virgil pointed a finger gun at Dee before walking into the vesting room, Jekyll being a nickname solicited by Dee’s vertigo that split his face into halves like the halved aspects of Jekyll and Hyde, and also by Dee’s absolute dorkery in all that was musical theater.

As the round was about to start and as Dee made the kids once again promise not to do anything that would hurt themselves, Remus and Virgil congregated into the half-emptied vesting room with glowing vest-holding-pillars and a few leftover vests with blasters attached.

Dee then assigned the colors and heard the groans of annoyed kids who didn’t get computer-assigned on the same teams as their friends.

The robotic voice announced above that the round was starting in ten seconds, and as the kids scrambled to find their spots, Dee turned back around to Remus and Virgil.

“I swear I’m up to here with these foolish wildebeests,” Dee sighed. “Our last few rounds were good but I think they’re just starting to get rambunctious and just want to see me mad.”

“I’m not blaming them,” Remus shrugged, leaning back against the wall with his wide pale shoulders and torso. “You’re pretty sexy when you’re mad.”

“Ugh,” Virgil shook his head, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets and wishing he could put on his headphones during work. “Leave me out of the friend-flirting, please.”

“No can do, dreamy darkstorm of doom!” Remus beamed, wrapping his arms around Virgil.

Virgil shook his head, grinning only because of the beaming Remus and the chuckling Dee beside him.

“Alright alright, let’s actually watch this match now and make sure no one gets hurt please?” Dee pulled up the arena cameras on the scoring screen in the corner of the room. Remus and Virgil crowded around him.

And from the spectator camera, Virgil could see the little boy he talked to earlier watching the round and his friends that waved and cheered to him as they played.

“Did you see what I did there, Sal?!” one boy exclaimed. “I got that kid and he didn’t even see it coming!”

Sal smiled at the comment, only then to start laughing once the boy’s vest beeped, showing that he got shot as he was talking.

“Who did that?! Michael, if that was you I’m gonna destroy you!” he fumed as he ran off. “Bye Sal!”

“Sal, huh?” Dee added. “Seems like a nice kid. Good job helping him, Vir.”

“I relate to him, y’know? Might as well try and help a little me or whatever.”

“Virrrrgilllllll has light in his soullllll!” Remus teased, poking Virgil’s cheek repeatedly. “I knew it I knew it I knew it!”

“Oh, get over it,” Virgil smirked as he playfully bopped Remus’s arm.

And once the round had come to an end (only needing assistance from Remus once because a kid did indeed forget the “hold onto the blaster to shoot” rule), Virgil saw Sal hurry out of the spectator floor to join his friends outside the door.

The kids returned their vests and quickly ran out the doors to see the TV-displayed leader-board. They crowded around Sal and told quickly and loudly of their adventures, to which Sal smiled and laughed.

And it was quite a delight for Dee, Virgil, and Remus, who were all standing by the door that Virgil held open once again for the last time that night, to see that Sal followed his friends in and that Sal smiled at Virgil with a big beaming grin.

Virgil shut the door behind them as the last round started and finished and as the kids flooded out from the doors to their parents so they could leave the arcade, smiling and laughing all the way. Virgil waved goodbye to Sal, who graciously thanked him again for the help before walking out with the other kids and their parents.

Remus locked arms with Virgil and Dee as the three headed out of the arena and over to the prize table, where Logan and Patton waved goodbye to a few more kids who stayed late to play more games and where Roman leaned against the snack bar shelf and gave some high-fives to kids as they walked out.

“Bye Melanie! You’re a skeeball champion,” Roman cheered as a little brown-haired girl and her father walked out of the doors, both waving goodbye to Roman.

Remus approached Roman, letting go of Dee and Virgil’s arms, and chuckled, readjusting his ponytail for approximately the twentieth time that day. “Made another new friend, huh?”

“I did,” Roman turned to Remus and grinned. “One more than you’ve ever made, intro-dirt.”

“Oooh! Right where it hurts,” Remus cried, putting his hand over his heart before hooking Roman into his arm and ruffling up Roman’s hair.

Patton turned from the prize shelf and walked over. “Melanie, was it? Such a cute-looking kid.”

“Oh, but you won’t believe this! Virgil made a friend today, too,” Remus beamed, letting go of Roman and turning to Virgil.

“Really? I’m shocked that your void of a heart had enough room for that,” Roman teased, before quickly adding, “Just kidding. Who was it?”

“Name was Sal,” Virgil commented, his left contact-purple eye and his right green eye darting down to his shoes. “Nice kid. About eight years old?” he glanced off to the side.

“Awww!” Patton squealed.

“Sal was afraid of the laser tag arena, but Vir convinced him it wasn’t so bad and Sal went in for the last round with all his friends,” Dee added, stuffing his hands into his black apron’s pockets after he swiped away a loose strand of hair that fell out of his yellow beanie littered with Broadway buttons.

“How charismatic of you!” Roman smiled, “What a kind and fair lad,” he trilled, stepping down onto his knee and grabbing onto Virgil’s hand for a tiny hand-kiss.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “How about you save the prince kiss until after you’ve had a breath mint?”

Roman scoffed, standing back up and dusting off the bottom of his apron while Remus and Dee both simultaneously ooooh’d at the roast.

Just then the joking atmosphere was quelled as Logan’s clacking strides from his derbies coming towards them filled the air. “Okay jokers, we’ve got a bit more work to do before we can officially wrap up for the night. There’s some boxes to be carried and a bit of cleaning to do.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Right. Which one of you is strongest, again?” he asked, directed to the two Westons, who simultaneously pointed to themselves respectively.

“Go see,” he said. “There’s four boxes behind the table.”

Roman and Remus shoved past each other to get over to the boxes, and soon enough they were both fighting to grab more boxes than the other.

Logan opened the prize booth’s gate and walked out to Dee and Virgil with Patton following behind him.

“Smart, L. Using their competitiveness to get more work done,” Virgil commented.

“Oh, well, I try,” Logan replied.

“Nothing is stronger than a sibling’s need to outdo their brothers and sisters,” Dee recited poetically, holding a nonexistent skull up in his hand like he was the new Shakespeare.

Patton laughed and clapped, and both Logan and Virgil stifled a chuckle.

“Hey, Dee, speaking of that,” Virgil added with Dee turning towards him.

“I saw you reading out rules today, and your theatrics are pretty cool,” Virgil complimented, lightly shoving Dee with his elbow. “I swear, the kids always listen to you say all the rules when you do your voices and acting. They just start snoring whenever Ree and I try.”

Dee grinned smugly, shoving Virgil back. “Gee-muh-netti. I’m flattered,” he blushed as he tipped an imaginary hat from his head.

“Hey nerd, where do you want the boxes?!” Roman yelled from in front of the storage closet, carrying all four boxes with Remus swiping at them to grab them back.

“Back of the storage closet!” Logan yelled back. “And don’t drop them, please!”

Remus opened the door for Roman politely before slamming it shut behind both of them and probably trying to grab the boxes back again.

Logan sighed, holding the bridge of his nose in his fingers. “That’s all the lifting work. Everyone else, cleaning duty. We had a crowded day today.”

And so the four got to work wiping down and unplugging all of the machines, and once all the work was done all six owners met back up at the front of the arcade.

“I carried more boxes than Romie!” Remus cheered, smiling and puffing out his chest.

Roman pushed him to the side. “You liar! I carried all four at once.”

Patton stood between them and broke up the fight. “Guys, guys, you’re both strong, okay?”

Roman and Remus both stared at each other angrily for a moment before both of them absolutely melted at the compliment.

“Thank you so much!” “You really think that? You’re too sweet!”

“Alright, listen up everyone,” Logan started. “I’ve calculated our weekly earnings up, and it seems that we have enough to do a sort of ‘splurge’ for our late-dinner-early-breakfast tonight.”

“I call IHOP!” Patton beamed. “Pancakes, anyone?”

“Not a bad idea,” Virgil nodded, slipping out of his apron and tossing it onto the coathanger to the side of the entrance doors.

The other four unanimously agreed, and Logan nodded. “IHOP it is,” he announced, taking his car keys out of his back pocket and spinning them around his fingers. He opened the door for the other five who graciously thanked the ever-loving heck out of him.

As the six headed out, Roman’s arm over Virgil’s shoulder, Dee and Remus’s arms locked together, and Logan and Patton’s hands interlaced after Logan shut off the light switch, Remus interjected, “I have another idea for the arena, by the way! What if we add a totally wrecked bus to the middle of the space, like halfway stuck in the ground and open windows and a raised ramp so it’d be a cool hiding spot?”

“Not a bad idea,” Logan added. “We might have enough in the budget for something like that.”

“Or what about this! Pop-up ghost targets that appear at random times for extra points!”

“Cool.” “Good idea!” “Not too bad bro, coming from that one braincell up in your head.” “Sounds good.” “That could work,” the others agreed.

The six friends loaded up into Logan’s RV and drove off to dinner and a long night of rest after the busy day.

Coinscore really was the best arcade Gainesville, Florida could’ve ever asked for.

—

[lovelylogans]

You seem to be the person that I follow who knows the most about fanfic, and I kinda want to get into reading it again. I used to read a lot of phan or supernatural stuff and now I read none, lol. Can you rec me LAMP or any pairing between the light sides or platonic fics with happy endings? Even if it's the most basic ones that everyone has read, I probably haven't. Thanks so much!

*cracks knuckles*

this is gonna be a long one. it’ll go title, pairing, then super basic plot summary, so. below the cut!

as far as self-promotion goes, i’ll get that out of the way first and rec you some of my most popular stuff in this fandom. these links will be to ao3, though you can also find them on my tumblr:

where you lead, i will follow (romantic moxiety, romantic logince): 150k of a gilmore girls au that absolutely no one asked me for, you do not need to have read the show to read this. it’s slowburn friends-to-lovers moxiety and childhood friends-to-lovers for logince, this fic follows patton, who was a pregnant trans teen who ran away to the tiny town of sideshire, his son, logan, who just got accepted into one of the most prestigious high schools in the state, patton’s parents, emily and richard, who clash often with their son, virgil, the owner of the local diner and reason all the locals have not developed scurvy, and roman, a teenage dancer/dance instructor who just so happens to have a crush on his best friend. this is a big personal favorite of mine, and i’m still writing in that verse, so. 

lavender for luck (romantic polyamlamp): the fae family has been cursed with magic dating back two hundred years. with great power, however, comes a great price; any man or woman who falls in love with a fae is doomed to die. virgil fae is trying his best to ensure that that does not happen. as is his uncle, dee. however, three of the friends he makes at college makes that increasingly difficult, for him.

my true love gave to me (romantic prinxiety, romantic logicality): a christmas-centric fic of four roommates, all of which are in love with each other in some way. follow these disaster gays being wooed or attempting to woo their crush in time to make out under some mistletoe. (this fic was nominated for best overall in the fander fic awards on tumblr.)

not you again (romantic prinxiety): inexplicably my most popular fic in terms of tumblr notes, this follows roman being a Gay Disaster Barista who is crushing hard on one of his regulars, who unfortunately has a boyfriend (or does he?) ft. remy (aka the sleep character from thomas’ short vids.)

dance partner (platonic royality): the popularity of this one is also due to the fanart made by the incredible sanderstribute, roman takes patton for a night of dancing on the town. 

okay, that’s enough of my stuff. this section is mostly “fandom essentials” in that most people have either read them or are familiar with them, in some way. a lot of these are kind of old-school fander fics, but they’re still really good and a good introduction to fandom! mostly the most kudos/bookmarked fics on ao3. also a pretty good starting point to a variety of popular fic-types in this fandom.

to build a home (romantic logicality) by avalorouschoice on ao3: patton and logan adopt virgil from an orphanage. this is a lot of found family, kid-growing-closer-to-the-family, and it’s just. i Like It A Lot and i’m definitely due for a re-read of it, it’s just very sweet

starved (polyamlamp, ft. thomas) by @randomslasher: honestly, it was tough to pick just one randomslasher fic to put on the list (if you’d like more fandom essentials, i’d argue that lj has written a toooon of them so just reading through their fics would be good!) but this one kind of had to win out. this fic boils down to “virgil needs hugs desperately and hides how desperately he needs them from the other sides, the other sides find out, the other sides give him hugs.” that’s... yeah. that’s the one. it’s Good Stuff.

of trying and towers (romantic prinxiety) by @parsnipit: similarly difficult to parse down any parsnipit fics! a lot of their stuff ranks among my personal favorites, so again, just reading down the list of what they’d got is a Good Call especially once upon a dream, which is similarly one of those “fandom essentials.” this fic in particular is about thomas in medieval times, stuff goes wrong, and all the sides split up and are turned into what they hate/fear, and it’s their journey of teaming up together again and defeating the evil ruler in place of the kingdom. there’s dragons. it’s Good Stuff.

it’s only logical (romantic logicality, romantic prinxiety) by @tinysidestrashcaptain: logan owns a flowershop and hires single dad patton, while his best friend virgil, who owns a coffee shop, and roman flirts with virgil a lot. very cute, very sweet, kid thomas is Great! again, tstrashcaptain has a lot of the stuff i’d call “fandom essentials,” so. those! all good stuff!

silence and duality (platonic lamp) by @xaandiir: one of the first takes on the whole “dark sides” aspect we had, back in the day, this fic follows along with the sort of psychology/mentality of the sides as children, as they grow up, and the potential of what could happen to one of the dark sides, especially if they were rejected. i’m trying not to spoil it too much, but! again! good stuff!!

insomnia (platonic lamp) by @xaandiir: virgil cannot sleep, attempts to hide it from the other sides, and the other sides find out. Good Stuff. let the boy take a nap

learning & loving verse (romantic prinxiety, romantic logicality) by @virgilsjourney: jenna’s just... yeah, lots of really good fics there! again! a college verse fic in which Pining Roommates feature; virgil helps roman through some stage fright (trying not to spoil it!) to eventually star as fiyero in wicked, and the realization of Feelings throughout. good stuff!

college verse (platonic lamp) by @princelogical: again! one of those Really Great Authors to just read a ton of their stuff! this one in particular is a college verse, in which all the sides have various emotional reckonings. really great character development, really great backstory. i will say read the warnings, just in case!

and now, for some of my personal favorites. this is only a fraction of my favorite fics, and if you’d like more of my personal recommendations, i have a whole tag for fanfic! (if there’s an indent under, it just means ‘more by this author!’)

love and other fairytales (polyamlamp) by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors: ohhh my fuckin god. worldbuilding a+, characterization a+, plot a+. have you ever wanted faerie!virgil and changeling!logan and witch!roman and a-little-cursed!patton??? you do! trust me you do! i have no idea how to describe it without spoiling any of the plot, however, i will say that this is basically just Straight Up a novel and has developed a little fandom of itself which is honestly so lovely to see, so!

faded with uncertainty (romantic prinxiety): in the aftermath of ‘dealing with intrusive thoughts,’ roman finds virgil crying in the midst of the mindscape and comforts him in the aftermath of That Reveal that virgil had in the video

blanket!verse (romantic prinxiety, romantic logicality): a few oneshots of varying topics, this deals with virgil and his anxiety in his new relatinoship, as well as patton’s tendency to hide emotions, with fluff involved in each. (canoodling especially it’s so soft and fluffy and just!!!)

track seven (romantic logicality): logan struggles with his emotions and snaps and blows up at everyone; patton tries his best to get to the bottom of it.

lovely, dark, and deep (romantic analogical) by @teacupfulofstarshine:  MERMAIDS!!!! virgil’s a doctoral student and thomas is his advisor, and logan, roman, and patton are all mermaids, of a sort. very good, very gay, the imagery is spectacular and it is Good! Stuff!!!

little and broken (but still good): moxiety as dads! logan, roman, and thomas are their kids! they’re all so good! so cute! really great family feels! i cry every single time! the domesticity! the FLUFF! it is a masterpiece!

the pattonella au (romantic analogical, romantic royality): oh my actual god, star, YOUR MIND, this au is just such a wonderful take on the cinderella fairytale and putting it within the context of the sides with its own little twists and turns, they are Cute and Good and the development of the relationship in the aftermath of a cinderella-type event is just chef’s kiss 

living in the real world (ain’t it fun): the sides coalesce into the real world, and thomas is KIND OF FREAKING OUT about it; they’re having trouble adjusting, at first, but since the work’s still in progress you can see them kind of slowly coming to terms with it and it’s just a take on the “sides become people” au that i’ve never really seen before so!!!!!!

stardust sleeper (and the college!verse in general): logan gets to take the nap He Deserves, there are Cute Accents in here, and it’s just a very cute, very good domestic slice-of-life in the midst of the chaos that is college. it’s Very Cute and Very Sweet and please just read it oh my god???? 

internal bleeding (past romantic logicality, romantic prinxiety) by @princelogical: virgil and roman come to visit patton at christmas, in the aftermath of patton’s husband’s death; his husband is very aware that he’s dead, but he hasn’t been able to leave yet. angst, hurt/comfort, Oh My Fuckin God

the queerplatonic logince verse: logan and roman are in a queerplatonic relationship, and the stuff that entails. i just really like it whenever someone focuses on aro or ace sides, and i think this is a really well-done portrayal of the fact that relationships absolutely do not need to be romantic in order to be significant.

i feel like it’s just me: patton is a professional cuddler, and the people he meets in the course of that job, ft. some patton angst and general thoughts about loneliness. to quote, “this is more of a concept piece,” but i very much like the concept

lists.: just a short, sweet lil thing about the other sides appreciating logan.

hold your breath until it’s okay by insertfandomjoke, @notafeeling on tumblr: a brooklyn 99 style au in which logan is the captain, and virgil, roman, and patton are the detectives—it’s a “Five Times They Closed a Case Without Anyone Getting Hurt and the One Time They Didn't” au. 

in which we are all virgil: in which virgil stares at elliott and thinks “oh no they cute!!!” and also presents elliott as joan’s anxiety and dr. picani as a fusion between patton and logan and it just. Good!

sweaters: patton makes his boyfriends all christmas sweaters and They Cute

habits (romantic logicality) by @astralbone: human au, slice-of-life kind of thing. the characterizations are Very Good and honestly i just really love to read it. both of them are hurting and their life may not be perfect but they’re fitting together and it’s just. it’s Very Good

sanders sides ficlets by @virgilsjourney: ranging a variety of topics/timespans in terms of the series, there is a ton here. you want movie night fluff? it’s here! you want hurt/comfort angst in which roman is locked away like in the snow queen? you got it! you want logan and patton mend up after moving on???? it’s here! just a lot of really good stuff!!!!!!

blink back to let me know (romantic moxiety, hinted romantic logince) by @virgilsanxiety and @shakespearesocks: virgil and patton are both pining, logan and roman don’t get paid enough for this, and they are Good Soft Boys who maybe need to improve a bit at communication

logic’s notebooks (romantic analogical) by @parsnipit: logan keeps notebooks about all the sides and feels bad about it; in the midst of all this, some Very Great domestic analogical

and you lied to all your selves (romantic prinxiety, romantic logicality) by penrosequartz: i haven’t read this in a minute, but it’s a prinxiety fic in which they get closer, and virgil is being, well, anxious, and i’d recommend you read the warnings but!!! loosely structured, good characterization, it’s just some! good! stuff!

migraine (analogical) by @theonlyjelly-iwillput-inmybelly (philosophicalrune on ao3): virgil is overworking himself through a migraine, logan helps him feel better, and tries his best to make virgil feel better. it’s cute and sweet and very good in terms of hurt/comfort, i tend to go back to it whenever school is stressing me out, so that should tell you something!

smile (platonic moxiety) by @doggo-fiends-on-a-spaceship: to steal their alternative title, “Alternatively titled: Virgil has a nightmare and wants a hug, but being emotionally constipated, Cannot Ask for one.” virgil has a nightmare and spends the night in patton’s room; the trouble is, patton did not know that he was doing that until he nearly trips over virgil. they are Good Boys and it’s just Real Nice

again, this is a tiny, miniscule fraction of really spectacular fics in this fandom—there’s a lot of talented people here, so happy reading!