#is there really any practical difference between 'five lines' and uhm

[marlenacantswim]

Fic ask,,, The Editor,,, "You're Gonna Need to Call A Doctor."

You're Gonna Need to Call a Doctor

He's alive. For a brief moment, he thinks this unfortunate, as if he were dead, he wouldn't be experiencing the ghastly stench of his pulverized boss. Former, boss, he remembers. As the events of the past few hours return to him, he tentatively opens his eyes, and sees only complete darkness— a rarity for him. The overall silence in his mind seems to indicate a complete shutdown of the thought broadcast system, and the darkness probably means there's no power to floor 500. It's strange: he almost feels asleep.

See, to minimize any excess heat, lighting on floor 500 was kept to a minimum, which of course necessitated ocular enhancement for The Editor. As such, since being chosen all those decades ago, he could always see in the darkest of environments, even with closed eyes. Add to that his constant operator-level access to the stream of consciousness only ever deactivating for his monthly rest, and it becomes pretty clear why his idiotic human instincts are yearning for a hearty nap at the mo. How blissfully unaware of them.

Alright, enough of this stupidity: where the hell is he? He hears the sounds of searing and thick bubbling, so he can't have been out that long. The amount of heat going on is also tremendous, but living and working in an icebox for several decades hasn't exactly tempered his perception of temperature. He tries to move. There's a lot of wet resistance; his backside must be covered in Jagrafess sludge. "So disgusting," he moans to himself, pushing himself away from the chilled wall of the lifeless computer system. In his panic from Suki's bafflingly strong corpse-grip, he'd rolled himself under the main console as a last-ditch grasp at survival. A typically brilliant call on his part, seeing as the metal paneling retained its cold temperature, and likely shielded him from the onslaught of molten innards.

His struggling motion must set something off, because a single light somewhere in the room hums to life. It's on for maybe a second before it fizzles out, once again leaving him blind. "Woooow, how thoughtful," he muses to no one. As he continues to inch his way out, he notices both his legs can move completely unhindered. A devilish smirk crosses his face: "Ohh, see that, you mole? Really tried your best, didn't you?" Feeling around for the edge of the console, he pulls himself up to a sitting position. "All the good that did you, ay Suki? Still had some kindle of life in you, and you wasted it! Your husk boiled away, and I remain completely untouched!"

As if on cue, that same bulb from before reawakens. The first thing he sees after the writhing masses of sinew coating the place are his legs: his left, loafer still shiny, and about two thirds of his right— the only two thirds that seems to be remaining. "Aw, what? No, that— c'mon!" How annoying. It'll cost him at least 3,000 credits for a new one. The end of it, still sizzling, sits in a pool of what he first assumes is anti-freeze, before coming to the conclusion that no, actually: that's just what his blood looks like. He's never really seen it before; always assumed it looked like everyone else's— just how much altering did Max do to him?

Whatever. No time for an identity crisis— he's got to get out of here. For one, it smells like absolute rubbish, but more importantly, it can't be good that he's... leaking, and of course he's got to get the bum leg thing sorted. He's still got administrator clearance for the lift, he'll just go down to the 417th floor, fork over the credits for a leg prosthesis, and blend in with the citizens of Satellite Five until some new, decent opportunity presents itself. He pauses, staring at his reflection in the blue-ish pool of his own blood. His irises are so massive, and his pupils more jarringly so in the dim light. Would the masses even consider him human? The surgeons would probably take one look at the foreign substance seeping from his wound and report him to... well, himself, he supposes. This is what he gets for being too good at his job.

Maybe their expertly curated xenophobia is right, though. Would his name— his real name— even show up in their systems? What would a medical scan reveal? They'd probably find his genome more analogous with one of those cold-faring species. Regardless, It's been so long since another alien's been on the station, the medbay no longer carries anything but iron-based blood— certainly nothing resembling whatever's flowing through his veins. A frown forms, unbefitting of his face. "Bloody hell, I look pathetic," he spits. Fine. Screw it. Guess he's having this identity crisis now. Who the hell even is he without the Jagrafess's influence? Not that it was particularly grand; must've been a pretty flimsy system if it only took one fool and a lucky break to blow it up completely. All that aside, it still gave him power and purpose, and now what has he got?

He perks up— Knowledge. He tilts his head, and a foxy grin sneaks back onto his mien. He's got knowledge. Valuable, valuable knowledge. Knowledge of the Doctor, and his time-traveling capabilities. That anomaly and his human plaything may have squandered his previous, let's say, "business endeavor," but they've shown themselves to be a far more lucrative investment opportunity. He brings himself to his fee— foot. To his foot, and cackles. "Oh Doctor," he sneers, "won't you be excited to see me again." Perhaps there are some benefits to his unexpected survival. How many people in the universe know that there's a Time Lord frolicking about spacetime unsupervised? How fewer can identify him by face alone? The Editor gives another scan of the alien remains around him, and bursts out laughing. "Sorry for the late notice, Max, but my resignation still stands. I think it will greatly benefit both of us." He points at a lifeless eyeball that wound up in the chair next to him— "Can I put you down as a reference?"

As he hears the metered sound of the approaching lift, he puts on his most pathetic pitiable face, and begins weaving his sob story.

It's about time he became his own boss, don't you reckon?

[mae-gi-writes]

Once Again (PT.I) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN : PART ONE 

Summary:  Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother. 

Genre: fluff, slight angst, f!reader x dad! Iwaizumi 

A/N: There will be 2 or 3 parts of this oneshot! Depending on how long I feel like writing. Thanks for checking it out and stopping by! Let’s dive into some Iwa moments :,)

NEXT PART --> 

---

“What’s your return policy on rings?” 

The saleswoman smiles sympathetically behind the counter. That stupid sympathetic smile he’s been getting for weeks on end now. And it never stops; with his co-workers, with his family, his friends...

Iwaizumi’s sick of it. He’s sick of having to prove that he’s doing just fine, thank you very much. When in truth, his heart is constantly being torn apart and stomped upon as is people have nothing better to do than torture him in their free time. 

“I’m sorry, but these rings have been brought more than three years ago, and our warrant only lasts for three years,” the saleswoman keeps on talking but it doesn’t matter, for Iwaizumi can already feel the anger slowly creep up through the back of his neck, can already feel the vibrating emotions clogging up his sense of judgement. 

His fists clench at his sides upon impulse, the physical pain of his nails driving into his palms enough to remind him to stay cordial. It’s not the woman’s fault, the better part of him chants, it’s not her fault at all. 

“Fine,” he manages to grovel out, barely, “thanks anyway.” 

He all but storms out of the shop while shoving the rectangular box back in his pant pocket, and though it’s been more than four months since his ugly divorce with the woman he’d hoped to share the rest of his life with, the weight of their promise hangs heavy and hot upon his thigh. 

The thing is, Iwaizumi is mad. He is seething. If one were to give him a bat, he’d probably destroy the entire town by himself. Not because she was the one that cheated, not because she was the one going behind his back numerous times a week to seek out her lover when he’d been basically driven mad between Hoisuke’s cries and the stress of call meetings scheduled back to back. 

No, he’s angry. Because how the fuck could she do this to Hoisuke? How can she break the child’s heart like that, so ruthlessly, without even thinking twice about the consequences? 

Because if there is a victim in all this, then it’s definitely Hoisuke. And not only that, Hoisuke understands that his mother has been acting strange, that she doesn’t return at regular times and that her hugs now smell of cigarette smoke with a bittertaste of alcohol. 

Iwaizumi is so caught up in anger that he almost blunders past his battered Hyundai, red and chipping away at the corners. Still, this car holds so many memories, the good and the bad ones. 

“Can’t you get a newer car? I thought your company could sponsor you,” the ghost of his wife’s voice echoes through his head, a blatant reminder of all the things she’d found wrong in his life.

“Why?” he’d tilted his head around to fix his gaze on her figure bending over the sink. The TV was playing in the background and he thanked the gods that the morning comics were taking up Hoisuke’s attention, enough to distract him from his parents’ quibbles. 

“It’s just--so old and tacky.” 

“It still works well, doesn’t it? Why change it now?” 

She’d paused, hesitated slightly before blundering on, “It’s embarrassing. My colleagues keep asking if we're poor or something."

"Who cares what your colleagues think?"

Fuck her, Iwaizumi mentally swears as he turns on the ignition. Fuck her and all her needs for a better life. As if the life they had wasn't more than enough. Pulling out into the street to join the incoming traffic, he blinks away the sudden tears accumulating at the corner of his eyes and swears once more, this time aloud, glad that Hoisuke isn't in his presence when he gets in such a foul mood.

Iwaixumi may be angry. He may be filled with pent-up rage from the memory still attached to the day he'd discovered a used condom in their bathroom trash. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

That doesn't mean he does not still cry into his pillow over it every night.

----

"Please don't forget to do your homework for tomorrow! We'll correct them before moving on to the next chapter," you call out to your students as excited chatter fills the air. Students rise from their seats, some calling you bye and waving as they all file out of the classroom and you can't help the small smile lingering over your lips even though your feet are killing you.

Outside, parents have already lined up to collect their kids, the chatter and bustle of people ebbing away down the corridor as you let out a soft sigh.

"Miss?"

You jolt, not realizing that one of your students stands by the table wringing his hands, "what's wrong Hoisuke? Dad's not here yet?"

He shakes his head, watery eyes blinking up at you as he raises his thumb to his lips. You stand quickly and motion him to come close until he's within reach before your hand smoothes over the back of his head, "it's okay. He's probably stuck in traffic. I'll wait with you."

It's not surprising that parents get tardy once in a while and you're all too accustomed to those slight change in plans. Thankfully, you manage to distract the young boy with some coloured crayons and a piece of paper while you dial for his father's number.

It keeps ringing. No one picks up.

You try once more, one more time after that. But still, nothing. It shifts to voicemail. You decide it's better than nothing, "hi Iwaizumi-san. This is Y/N, Hoisuke's teacher. I was just wondering what time you would be picking up Hoisuke? Please call me as soon as possible. Thank you."

You end the call only to spot Hoisuke's eyes on you, intent and impatient for you to explain, "it's okay," you tell him with a smile, "he'll be here soon. Don't worry. Do you want to keep colouring some more?"

Hoisuke nods, to which your smile widens. It's those special moments, where your shyest students express themselves, that your chest warms with sympathy and affection. You've been there, you know how it feels like not to be heard, and you appreciate every interaction they offer you.

Being a primary school teacher is tough, especially since it wasn't in your original plans. But the satisfaction of bringing up some of the world's future leaders cancelled out all the late nights correcting tests and scrambled weekends trying to finish off as many worksheets as you possibly could for the coming week. You can’t complain, not when you have a decent salary that keeps bread on the table and a roof over your head.

A tug on your sleeve brings you back to Hoisuke looking up at you, a scribbled drawing of what seems to be of him and his dad. You feel yourself chuckling at how he's drawn both their hair in brown spikes, erratically extravagant and yet so close to reality.

"That's really good, Hoisuke!" You beam down at him, "what do you and your dad do on weekends?"

He shrugs shyly, head averted to the side so that there's no need for eye contact. And in the shyest voice he can muster up, he says:

"Daddy brings me...to see Mama," Hoisuke's words are barely above a mumble, "they live in different houses. They can't live together anymore."

Uneasiness squeeses in your stomach, followed by sympathy for this soft-hearted boy. You had overheard some of your colleagues giggling about Hoisuke's dad being attractive and single -- a combo that teachers adore -- but that doesn't mean that the weight of his words don't lay heavy on your own conscience.

"Do you miss your Mama a lot?" You ask him softly. Unconsciously, your hand finds a way to smooth over his head.

The boy doesn't pull away. Instead, he nods, "sometimes. But it is better this way. Daddy smiles more now. And there's no one to shout and make noise."

"Are you happy, Hoisuke? With your dad?"

He nods and to your amazement grins, "daddy is funny. He tells me not to swear but when he burns the food he always swears. And then he says to shush and tells me to close my ears. He also makes me pancakes every Saturday morning before I go see Mama."

Right on cue, a figure bursts through the open classroom door and both your heads snap to see a drenched, older version of Hoisuke who looks like he just finished running a marathon.

"I'm--" he wheezes, causing you to stand in alarm and concern, "I'm sorry I'm--so late--"

"Daddy, you forgot me again!" Comes Hoisuke's statement as you ask Iwaizumi if he's okay. He shakes off your worry with a flick of his hand and a shake of his head, "I'm fine. Sorry-- there's a nasty rain outside--"

"It's okay," you reassure him as Hoisuke practically barrels into his father and almosy knocks him off his feet.

"Sorry Hoisuke," you watch Iwaizumi's hardened features soften ever so slightly as he ruffles his son's hair. Then, looking back up at you as you bring over Hoisuke's backpack, he says, "thank you. For looking after him."

"It's no problem, honestly. We had fun didn't we?" You grin down at your student and are delighted to find Hoisuke grinning back up at you, albeit shyly, "I put his homework in his diary. He'll need to complete it for tomorrow so that he doesn't fall behind in class."

His father nods, "alright. Thanks."

"Daddy, your hair looks atrocious," Hoisuke says, tugging onto his shirt.

"Atrocious huh?" Iwazumi's eyebrow rise, "someone was listening in their English class today."

"Atrocious means that it looks bad. Daddy, your hair looks bad."

"Thanks buddy, I knew that. Now say bye to Miss Y/N."

"Bye bye, miss Y/N," Hoisuke says, wriggling his short arm through the air as you wave back with a giggle. His father nods at you in silent thanks, makes a move to walk out of the class, only to swivel back to you just as you're collecting your bag.

"Uhm," he clears his throat, causing you to jump slightly, "yes?" You blink back at him and try hard not to stare at the way his white shirt clings to his toned chest, translucent from the rain.

"Do you need a ride?"

-----

You've known Iwaizumi since high school. Having graduated just two years later than he did, his reputation had preceded him throughout the school halls even though you'd never actually had any face to face interaction with the said man. Iwaizumi doesn't know this of course and you are adamant about keeping it a secret. But that plan seems to be unraveling before your very eyes the moment your small talk turns towards your academic history.

"You're from Aoba Johsai?" His surprised glance doesn't escape your notice, especially since that's the most reaction you've gotten out of him.

"Yeah," your eyes stay glued to the row of cars crawling through the motorway, "I remember you went there too, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"You were Aoba's ace volleyball player. Everyone knew who you were."

His silence answers you and for a moment, you fear that you might have offended him. Not that it's something to be offended about.

Before you try to scratch your brain for some kind of response -- any response -- Hoisuke pipes up from the back seat, "Daddy was famous back when he was in high school. He hit the ball like kapow! And jumped so high he can touch the sky."

"Oh? Have you seen him on camera?" You turn slightly, a small smile dangling off your lips at how adorably amazed and excited Hoisuke seems to be.

"Yeah! His spikes are so awesome! It goes pow! And it zooms! Like a cannon ball!"

You burst out laughing, "yes, your father was amazing whenever he was on the court. Every girl in our class had a crush on him."

"What's a crush?"

"Hmm, you know when you really like someone. You like like them, you want to be together with them. Like, girlfriend and boyfriend."

"Oh," Hoisuke draws out, "did you really like daddy too?"

"Yeah I did."

"What?" Iwaizumi almost chokes on his own spit at the same time traffic eases and you're glad for the distraction, for you're certain there's a scattering of colour upon your cheeks.

"Do you really like him now?" Hoisuke persists, undoubtly untouched by the embarrassment taking over his father's features and you swear that more than ever, you want to laugh at how flustered Iwaizumi looks.

You decide to play nice though and instead turn to wink at your student, "that's a secret for me to keep."

You don't have to look twice to know that the man beside you is bursting into hot flames.

-----

"Did you really like Mama before you started living separately?"

Iwaizumi swears that he's never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Not when he's had to state that he was divorced, not when he had to sign divorce papers half drunk off his ass. Not even when he'd raged after his said ex-wife after finding a tie that wasn't his own in his laundry pile.

Now is probably a good definition of what uncomfortable means.

"You're not gonna let me off the hook are you?" He steals a glance at Hoisuke from over his shoulder while stirring the vegetable curry, "yes, I really liked your mother."

"Did she?"

The word 'yes' almost slips past his mouth. Except, he isn't sure whether that's the truth and decides to shoot back with, "have you finished your homework, Hoisuke? You know it's due tomorrow. Miss Y/N said so."

"Do you really like miss Y/N?"

"What?" Iwaizumi frowns, "well--no. Not like that."

"Why?" His son whines, "I really really like Miss Y/N. She's nice to me and she never shouts. And she bakes good cookies!"

"How'd you know that?" Iwaizumi leans over to taste a bit of the sauce. Not bad, he thinks and mentally pats himself on the back. A few weeks ago, he would've probably burnt the entire house down.

"Because she bakes them every month. Every time we finish a test."

"That's nice of her."

"Yes," there's a pause as the man fishes out a bowl in which to serve the curry, "daddy, what do you do when you really like someone? Do you marry them like you and Mama did?"

"Uh--yeah. Sure."

"Then does that mean I need to marry Miss Y/N if I really like her?"

"Yup."

"Daddy!"

Iwaizumi bursts out laughing. Turning off the stovetop and bringing the bowl over to the dining table, he reaches out to ruffle his son's hair with a grin, "you're the one who has a crush on miss Y/N."

"She's too old for me Daddy," grumbles Hoisuke while scooping out two rice bowls as the pair sit down for dinner, "but she'll be good for you."

"Not that simple, buddy," Iwaizumi says as he dumps two spoonfuls of curry into his son's bowl, before doing the same with his own, "there's a difference between like and love."

A frown falls over his son's face, so like his own that Iwaizumi can't help but chuckle, "what is the difference?"

"Well, when you really like someone, you might want to get to know them better. Or play with them andd shit--stuff like that. When you love someone, it's..." he hesitates, "it's different."

"Why?"

There goes that innocent question that punctures his chesy a little too deeply. The brown-haired man steadies his gaze upon the calendar fixed on the wall opposite him as he answers with:

"When you love someone, you want to live with them. You want to start a family with them. Their happiness," his brown orbs switch back to his son's focused attention, "their happiness is all that matters."

Maybe it's the fact that he's not used to speaking so truthfully about such things. Maybe it's just Hoisuke who suddenly realizes the layers hidden beneath his father's poker-faced exterior. But for a moment, neither of them speak, as if bewitched by a silencing spell if broken by the scraping of cutlery against porcelain.

"Did you love mama?"

Hoisuke's voice is small, fragile. So fragile that Iwaizumi pauses just as his spoon reaches his mouth, glancing over at his boy. His beautiful boy.

"Yeah."

Another short pause. "Did she love me?"

"Of course she did," Iwaizumi's face softens. To be honest, Hoisuke hadn't showed any kind of restraint during the entire divorce procedure, had merely accepted things as they had unfolded before his very eyes. But sometimes, Iwaizumi fears his son might be keeping more from him than he lets on.

He ressembles his mother a lot in that sense.

"Then," wet coffee-coloured eyes blink up at him, lips trembling with a hoarse whisper, "why'd she leave?"

Before his father can say anything, the young boy bursts into tears.

Iwaizumi rushes over, clasping Hoisuke in his embrace as the child buries his face into his neck and cries and cries and cries. His little heart beats like wild horses and with every sob echoing through hid body, Iwaizumi feels his own heart break over and over again. One of his hands rub comforting circles of Hoisuke's back, while the other smoothes over the back of his head as he murmurs soft nothings in hopes that it will calm down the young child.

"I want--" Hoisuke's voice is thick with tears, "I want Mama--"

"Shh, hey it's okay," Iwaizumi murmurs out, "s'alright kiddo. I got you."

Hoisuke falls asleep eventually, the soft sniffles dying out into even breaths as he slumps against his father’s shoulder, probably tired out from his earlier emotions. Iwaizumi takes this as his chance to tuck the boy into bed, glad that he’d listened to the small subconscious in his head telling him that Hoisuke would be falling asleep sooner rather than latter. 

As he smoothes over his son’s hair, a part of him wonders how much Hoisuke is still silently hurting from his mother’s departure. He can’t imagine it; suddenly changing lives like you’ve merely changed your bed sheets and Iwaizumi had been so caught up in his own heartbreak, in his own bout of silent rage, that he’d forgotten that along the way, Hoisuke was also a victim to their endless fighting, the cold war that had broken his family apart. 

He wishes he can take the pain away, ease it somehow. But it’s not that simple. The truth is, no one can actually predict how a heart gets broken, nor when it does. The only evidence are the repurcussions. And it’s only now that Iwaizumi gets to see it truly take its form. 

Leaning over to press a soft kiss to Hoisuke’s forehead, Iwaizumi murmurs his silent goodnight before walking out and gently closing the bedroom door behind him. 

He leans onto the hard wooden surface and rubs his eyes. It is only upon pulling them away that he takes notice of the family photograph hanging on the opposite wall, frozen smiles wrapped up in lies.

He really needs to take that down.

-----

[anika-ann]

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader    Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it’s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you.  You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? –, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you –, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

S.R. masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

[jiminrings]

Hello hello 🥺 I miss Hobi nd I just wanted to request a drabble piece with him as a teacher and your also a teacher and somehow??some students??? Ship you two??? And the next thing you know, they're trying to get you two together and oh boy...chaos ensues :') there's no pressure 🤗🤗 stay safe Hannah! 💞💞

base line

pairing: hoseok x y/n

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: hoseok swears that you’re intolerable, but maybe that’s just because you don’t greet him good morning like you usually do :D // gif isn’t mine!!

notes: my first hobi drabble!!! thank u for requesting and waiting babie!!! this threw me back to when i was in preschool and one of my earliest memories ever was me being a teacher’s pet and being able to read straightly and coherently :D (i am a mess now hee-hee)

you love your job

YOU LOVE YOUR JOB!!!!

YOU LOVE YOUR JOB!!!!!!!!

you shouldn’t even call it a job if you’re genuinely enjoying what you do, right??

there’s just some days that you feel like you’re going to sit down the puzzle-matted floor in the middle of the class, tuck your head in between your knees, and sCREAM then yeet yourself out to the corridor

ok but listen

you really do!!

you studied for this!! you have a degree!!! you have a license!!! being a preschool teacher has been the career path you’ve always wanted to take!!

you like being around kids in general and taking care of them and teaching them!!

your age gap with your older brother isn’t exactly small and that meant that growing up, you had to keep up with him!!

because FUCK coloring books and building blocks :-) let me read your textbooks :-) i can’t read but i wOuld like to pretend and bond with u

jin has kids of his own and since it’s only the two of you, that automatically meant that you’re the favorite aunt!! well because after all you are the only one

you’re young and you’re hip and you watch animated shows still!! you can resOnate with them!!!

seokjin can’t make his two-year old eat his steamed carrots but YOU can!!

aha you have now established power <3

but ya know,,,

being a teacher is different from being an aunt!! it’e worlds apart because not everything that applies to your nephews and nieces, also applies to other kids necessarily

obviously you can’t treat every kid to the park once they master their ABCs and can grip a pencil properly

you’re just exhausted ok!! it doesn’t make you love your job any less

it’s just as simple as that

wait actually no

there is ONE more hiccup in your job and at this point, the thought of it plagues your mind beyond your place of work

not it

h i m

jung hoseok — your co-teacher!!

your co-teacher that helps you in handling a batch of fifteen preschool kids for hours, two batches a day, five days a week

hoseok whose hair smells like vanilla and flowers and is never not wearing an article of beaded jewelry and has the good voice that could make three to five year olds listen

.,.,. hoseok.,.,.,. who isn’t yours.,.,.,

and hoseok.,.,., who probably hates you.,.

you’re not trying to make a reach but you FEEL it,,,, you feel it in your knees and your spleen that oh god your co-teacher probably resents you and just tolerates you to not make the kids worry :((

it doesn’t certainly help too that uhm

well

aha

... you may have a tiny crush on hoseok

maybe you really do like him or oR!!

or maybe you just see him practically like everyday and you find yourself paying more attention to him and finding details that you normally wouldn’t find for any other person besides him but-

“good morning, hoseok!!”

you mostly make french toast every morning because:

a) you’d probably eat it as often as you could until you could no longer look at it anymore and practically barf at even the mention of it

b) baby it’s EASY

c) you can make it as a batch and that way you won’t have to wake up every morning to cook for yourself

d) tastes immaculatE whether warm or cold

e) jungkook gave you his recipe after nagging him everyday for a month <3

you knew how to make it in the first place but uh well,,,.,,

jungkook is jin’s regular babysitter for his kids and he’s very organized although you won’t admit that

he’s carefree but like disciplined at the same time y’know

like YES eunji you can take a sip of my orange juice that ur appa told me not to give you BUT you need to drink one whole sippy cup of water okay??? say yes uncle goo

and he’d also have snacktimes and he’d make his own and french toast is one of them

one time you came over and babysitted with jungkook and u snuck out a piece from eunji’s bowl and wow

𝔀𝓸𝔀

every time you came over you’d make him cook and he’s all??? 

“y/n are you SURE eunji told you she wants two bowls of french toast?? to herself?? are you sURE???”

lmao he’s figured it out late that it was you who kept eating the french toast because he peeked at the bowl and then??? eunji’s mouth doesn’t bite THAT big?? 

not unless a toddler’s mandible is already that big and he’s been wrong all along 

so the french toast?? yeah you put it in your cute tupperware with the cute waterproof stickers in the lid

AND SPLIT HALF WITH HIM

one loaf is to four squares and two of those are for hoseok :D

minor problem tho

he doesn’t take up your offer :((

maybe it’s just yOU who’s the problem at this point because you tried bringing other food and ?? he just shakes his head no and gives you a curt smile

every morning, you greet him!!

“good morning, hobi!!”

you call him that because that’s what jimin and namjoon call him since they’re your co-teachers!!!

... although maybe it’s just for friends of his only...... a-and well maybe you aren’t his friend

.... aha anywAys!!

you leveled it up a notch and switch up your greetings

“good morning handsome!!” or like “heeeeey cutie!!” or maybe even “hi sunshine!!!”

you: :D

him: :|

every afternoon, you ask him if he wants anything from the vending machine in the faculty room

every month, the principal gives tHREE bottomless cards to the best-performing teachers and that basically meant you don’t have to pull bills from your wallet to pay for overpriced soda

you’ve gotten it twice consecutively in the last month

free pass or not, if hoseok finally tells you what he wants from the vending machine, then you’d get it for him in a heartbeat and less

vending machine talks r some of the best talks and you want that :((

sometimes he’ll tell you that he’s full, or shake his head no, or semi-rudely glances at you and sets his head down and that translates to no

every weekend, you ask him if he feels ____ because you totally have that in ur apartment

“it feels a bit hot, no? good thing i have a new airconditioning unit :D”

no you don’t have a new airconditioning unit

you just had jin clean out the filters while you were at work and it’s basically the same thing, right??

pls say right

you’re basically FLIRTING with him

and you feel useless about it because you haven’t made any progress whatsoever no matter your approach :((

at first you didn’t feel embarrassed whenever namjoon pointed out your crush on hoseok

in fact, the whole faculty knows but you’re just gonna ignore that

you didn’t feel like a FOOL because it’s hoseok you’re making strides towards to

he’s worth the embarrassment that you don’t feel at all

and he doesn’t notice and doesn’t care and he probably won’t talk to you if you are the only preschool teacher in this school besides himself

you’re starting to feel the secondhand embarrassment joon always points out to you multiplied to five

oh god what you’re doing is LAUGHABLE

it’s even more painful to look at yourself in a third perspective because you look like an utter fool chasing after him and all he does is push you away

you’re tired of trying 

it’s okay :)

hoseok looks like someone who’d tell all about your doings to his groupchat and they’d laugh at you together

wait no that’s quite a reach

you’re probably not even tHAT important to be made fun of in the gc :((

fine then

you’re gonna focus on everyone and everything else besides him -- it’s not like he’s even gonna notice anyway!! not that it’d matter

if hoseok can sleep at night peacefully without even acknowledging you, then you could sleep at night without him crossing your mind

sike

you kept thinking about not thinking of hobi last night that in return you did think about him

but that is the LAST time ok

you’re gonna start tallying this morning

wait a minute!! you don’t have to tally because you genuinely need to not care and be indifferent!! 

....

oh....

wait this was easier than you expected

you feel a weight out of your chest when you kept your eyes on the ground when you passed by hoseok in the hall

you felt nervous initially because you never skip a day of not being all googly-eyes for him but you know!!!! this was actually nice!!!!

for a change yOu’re the one who’s unaffected and as cold as it sounds -- 

it feels good to not care :D

“up please!! up!!” 

you’re feeling so zen and un-dejected that you forget for a moment that you’re still in class and yOU’RE the teacher

and it’s hyunjin!! one of the younger kids in class

also he’s quite the troublemaker and intentionally likes teasing you and being play-mad at him makes him giggle to no end

he does nOt vibe with hoseok he’d jus keep a straight face on and ??? no ur not teacher y/n

he’s tugging at whatever he could reach and if he turns out to be holding a marker in his hands then you might just Pass Away

you comply to hyunjin’s request but you know you’re gonna put him down in two seconds because you know that the other kids are gonna see and-

yeah nevermind

it’s now a carrying train :D

you just made up that name on the spot

it’s a line of kids going up to your arms, and then you passing them to hoseok, and then putting them down to the ground and them running back to the line again until everyone’s satisified

bAsically you’re passing around kids and it’s hoseok who calls off the game because you have no backbone sometimes when it comes to four-year olds

throughout the whole time though, hobi feels like something’s wrong

he just can’t place it

he’s trying to sniff so hard if someone had a toilet accident and he can’t smell anything??

maybe his shoelaces skipped a hole??

either way there’s just something wrong in the back of his head

anyways he better snap out of his daze before you ask if he’s okay or if he needs anything

..

....

........

why are you not looking at him

....

......

....

wAIT WHY ARE YOU NOT LOOKING AT HIM

huh

that’s weird

but you always look at him??? and he can see you in his peripheral vision and this time he can’t even see you glancing when his head’s turned????

hmmm

omg

his prayer’s been answered!!

honestly hoseok finds you kinda annoying and he’d like it if you just leave him alone and stuff and give up whatever it is that you’re doing

you finally got the message :D

yeah that’s good :D

hoseok’s okay he’s cool he’s happy he totally feels complete

“let’s stop now?”

hobi leans in to tell you because he counted and this is hyunjin’s third time on him

you’re kinda lost because he stops this game in his own accord but whatever

you just give him a smile and what’s THAT supposed to mean???

“oh sO do you want another round?? or??”

he’s enunciating it for you but it’s more for him actually

you just wave him off

.... communication.... where is it

he’s gathering the facts so far.

you’re not looking at him!! that’s fine

you didn’t call him handsome but hEh he’s handsome even if you don’t call him that

not that he needs comforting words and compliments.. or whatever...

that he can let pass because he doesn’t really care

but what he dOES care about is why are you not offering him anything right now???

where.,., WHERE is his french toast

he’s been putting his hand on his tummy for the past five minutes and rubbing it in circles and he’s ALSO humming every now and then

jimin’s lost as he’s writing his agenda for the week and hobi’s across him looking constipated and relieved at the same time

aHEM

ok what’s happening now

you’re... not trying to wedge into the same table he’s in.. ?

you plop right next to namjoon and he instantly throws his arm around yours because he’s been looking for you too

“hey!! how did your recipe night go??”

you reckon that joon allotted another evening for trying out new things because it helps him destress!!

he shudders just by thinking about the smell in his apartment and how opening the windows didn’t do shit

“tasted so bad i couldn’t even eat it :((“

mug cake is the actual devil!!!

imagine having to crack an egg along with a couple other things in a mug and cook it in a microwave and it doesn’t turn as good as the ones you’d see in youtube videos

congrats you now have bread stuck in a mug that smells like chocolate but tastes absolutely nothing like raw eggs

there’s an irritable scowl on his face and great now hobi just feels worse

it’s been almost a week

and practically everyone knows that something’s wrong going on with him and they don’t know wHY

some people dO have an inkling though,.,.

“ah, what seems to be troubling my best teacher?”

principal min drawls out as soon as hoseok enters his office before rolling his eyes at him

normally in other schools you’d be fIRED if you disrespect the principal but nah :D

yoongi takes pride in being the cool principal

he’s so cool that everyone’s in a first-name basis with him

he’s not your typical principal!! normally they’d be preppy and he’s not that much but when he sees the kids??? immediately goes soft

“you say that to EVERY teacher”

lol everybody knows that but no one points it out

he’s so grumpy that even the principal took notice of his behavior!!!

“there’s nothing wrong, okay??”

hobi says it in more of a scoff and that just goes against what he said

yoongi’s sitting here,,, eating his plain loaf of bread aND minding his own business,, and then now hoseok’s mad at him??

“don’t show me bread sTOP showing me bread!!”

the next day hobi’s so grouchy <3

there’s a circle that the kids are in and it just keeps going in and out

you and hobi are in the middle and each time they sing, the circle keeps getting sMALLER

now normally y/n from a week ago would blush to death

but present y/n just feels awkward and kinda :// at the whole situation

it’s not really a tight squeeze tbh but hoseok kEEPS going forward torwards you to the point that his arms around you already

he’s obviously flustered and he’s trying to recompose himself but you’re barely meeting his eye contact

okay now that hurt

god he’s just so left behind with what’s going on :((

and he won’t say this now but fUck he misses you!!! a lot!!!! he feels like pavlov’s dog and he’s automatically wired to miss your affection whenever he’s aware of your presence

does he uhm

does he l-word you??

“and that’s it!”

you’ve just finished teaching them how to fold a paper boat :D

that is a BIG achievement okay you’re actually serious

it teaches them how to be more patient and pay more attention!!

“you can give them your mom!! or if you have a tiny crush on someone in the room then-...”

lil seungmin steps right up to give you a boat

yes it’s wonky and the folds aren’t really done properly and won’t float in water but wow!!! that’s so cute!!!

you immediately thank him and ruffle his hair 

he’s such a cute kid omg 

“thank you s-...”

however hyunjin wOn’t be affected by that

with a huff does he march over to you and his long hair’s getting in the way (hobi just tied it awhile ago) but nO that is not important rn

he gives TWO paper boats but the other one he just stole it from jisung lmao

the kids are catching up and sUddenly it’s a competition to who gives who paper boats

there’s a fair share of boats between you and hoseok

you’re awed bc wow they really did learn and yOU taught them and it’s just so fulfilling to see wonky wittle boats :’’)

“give to who??”

the tiny felix sitting by your side tugs at your shirt and he’s pointing to the boat you made yourself sitting on your palm

“o-oh!”

how did you get put in the spot by preschool kids

oKAY definitely not hobi

maybe you can call namjoon from the other room???? or maybe even yoongs and-

the sudden shrieking in the room brings you down from your thoughts and you’re quite frantic trying to catch up

the commotion?? ur palm

hobi himself folded a crane!!

:)

and it’s sitting snugly in your palm

:)

he’s been feeling so lost the past week and he realized that it’s because of yOU and how he’s so dense to drive you away when all he wants to do is keep you close

hobi’s never really beamed at you directly like that before

you might just cry

hyunjin’s kicking the air and so does every kid who has googly eyes for their teacher 

but it’s okay 

it’s all okay because hobi’s looking at you the way you look at him and he’s the most gentle and pleasing thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on

it’s his turn to put his chin against his palm, a knowing smile on his face before he asks

“do you feel chilly tonight?”

[aesthbaby]

Because I Love You

Summary: Angst/comfort story. Check out the request for an actual summary

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x gender neutral reader

Request: This one

Warnings: Cursing | fighting

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

She didn’t come home.

She left you a voicemail saying she was sorry but she didn’t come home.

Rationally, you called Penelope and she didn’t really tell you much except that this case really got to Emily. She didn’t say anything on the jet back but everyone knew it really got to her. They had a rule, never take your work home with you. After everything that’s happened with Morgan, Hotch, and JJ the team had made a promise to never take your work home with you. You and Emily don’t have children like they do but it was the same principle, the best way to keep their loved ones safe is to keep them away from their work. You didn’t know that was a rule they made; all you knew was the Emily hardly ever talked about her job and just chalked it up to her being closed off.

You had to hear about the rule from Penelope when you called her all flustered and worried. Apparently Em stayed later than everyone to finish her reports but since she was silent throughout the whole thing everyone was worried. Penelope volunteered to stay behind and keep an eye on her but eventually Emily convinced her she was fine.

So when you called and asked where your girlfriend was, she didn’t know what to say. 

“Emily, baby, please pick up. I know you’re not okay, I mean I know you’re physically fine. I didn’t ask Pen to ping your phone because I know that’s an invasion of privacy but don’t underestimate me Emily Prentiss.”

That’s the 6th voice mail you’ve left for her and now its two in the morning. You’re on the couch eating Twizzlers (mostly just chewing on them because it calms your nerves) while some trashy reality show is playing in the background. When you first moved in together you couldn’t sleep without her next to you. It took some time for you to get used to the empty space in your bed and being woken up by her crawling into bed at late hours. She would snuggle herself under your arm and just listen to your heartbeat after a long day. She always thought you were asleep so you’d play along while she would tell you about her day. Its the most vulnerable she’ll let herself be; although you’d prefer it if she talked to you awake, you’ll take what you can get. Just when it felt like you were settling into a routine, she up and does this. You’d finally gotten her to agree to do an emotion chart with you. As ridiculous as it sounds it was something you used to write in your bullet journal years ago, you bought Emily one so she could do the same. She resisted at first but now she likes doing it (but she’d never admit that). Writing her emotions down has helped her be more open with you.

“I’m sorry y/n but the last time I saw Emily was on my way out of the bullpen, hours ago.” JJ sleepily tells you over the phone. “But I’m sure she’s fine, probably just needed some space after today.”

“Right...well, sorry for waking you up JJ.”

“Oh no, don’t worry its fine. I’m still finishing up some paper work for Henry’s new school. Who knew getting into a private school would take so much work out of you?” She laughs.

“The uhm...The Merit School?” I doubt I’d ever send my child to a school THAT expensive but who knows.

“Yeah, its going to cost us an arm and a leg but its a really great school.”

“I wish you guys the best of luck, and I’m sorry for bothering you so late.”

“Anytime,” Right when you’re about to hang up you hear her call your name. “Take care of Emily for me--for all of us.”

“I will JJ.”

Then you texted Garcia but never hit send because you already feel bad for bugging her earlier.

So you bothered Reid instead. You two have never been close but you do bond over vintage movies every now and then. You practically beg him to break this rule the BAU team has put into effect. The doctor was hesitant to tell you anything but eventually he did after rambling on about something that didn’t make any sense he gave you a brief summary on why he thinks this case may be hitting Emily so hard. “The unsub was the lieutenant for the local cartel who had been killing off his lovers. Those being undercover detectives who he would nicknames his wives. They would have to feign loyalty to him no matter what he did and by the time we arrived he had already executed three of them.”

“Why did he kill them?” You ask not really wanting to know the answer.

“There was a mole in the department. When he found out about them he...uhm...”

“Its okay Spencer, I get it.”

After a moment of silence he says, “Emily’s going to come home to you y/n. She loves you, we can all see it.”

“Thank you Spencer.”

Your concern is slowly morphing into frustration. How could she do this? She knows how worried I get if she simply leaves me on read. If I did something like this, Emily would have my head! Oh and what happened to aLwAyS teLLiNg eAcH oTheR tHe TrUtH?? Guess that doesn’t apply to her huh.

You get up to take a shower but instead you run smack dead into the coffee table. You’ve got to be fu- 

“Oh hi Sergio.” The black cat dances around your legs. I think this cat senses my impending anxiety. “At least you’re here, your  mommy is going to be in trouble when I see her.”

Where the hell are you Emily Prentiss? And like magic you hear the door unlock and open. I’m going to kill her. No no, I am going to give her a stern talking to. You know what? I don’t even feel like arguing--actually I do. “Sergio, hold me back.” Y/n, breathe, you need to empathize and sympathize with her. Or else this could get real ugly, real fast.

So, you sit down in the plush arm chair you begged Emily for when you first got here. She thinks its ugly but eventually she stopped trying to fight you. “Emily. Elizabeth. Prentiss.” You pronunciate each word slowly.

And there she is, white button up shirt tucked into her hundred dollar Express slacks with a double breasted blazer over the whole thing. My baby looks good but I will show no mercy for this behavior. “Hey.” She says casually, like she hasn’t been MIA for hours. “I brought Pad Thai.” She dangles the brown bag while locking all the locks on the door. A total of four, five if you count the alarm system. She goes straight for the kitchen without looking your way. No doubt that’s suspicious. “I couldn’t decide between cheese rangoons or egg rolls so I got us both.” You hear the fridge open and close but you still haven’t seen your girlfriend’s face. “Sorry for not picking up earlier. I needed time to get my head together.”

“Emily.” You almost growl the name. “Please, come and sit down.”

“You know at first I thought I’d get something from that fancy Slovakian place you like but then I remembered how sick I got last time.” She walks straight past you without a glance, into your shared bedroom.

This is unbelievable. “If I have to call your name one more time, Emily there will be hell to pay.” That seems to get her attention. She walks back into the living room but her back is to you and her head is low. Emily’s head never hangs low. “Look at me, Em.” When you’re met with nothing you stand, “Meet me half way Emily. Look me in the eyes.” You walk up to her and gently turn her by her shoulder. Her eyes have a sheer layer of pink over them, she’s not crying but she wants to. “Em...” You let out a brief sigh.

She walks out from under your grasp and heads toward the kitchen again. “Y/n...can we just go to bed? Eat trashy Chinese food like we always do and watch, I don’t know? The Bachelor?”

“You hate that show.”

“I know...”

“But you need something to take your mind off of today...” You nod, you know her too well. She’s silent in that moment. “Em I know this is about Ian Doyle.” Her eyes shoot up to yours. “Don’t be mad but I made Spencer tell me.” She turns to walk away but you grasp her hand, firmly. “You have no right to be upset about that Emily!” You and her hardly argue so the shout that came from your mouth was shocking. “I had to hear from your friend what was going on with you because you tell me nothing!” You’re in tears and it looks as if she feels some level of guilt. “Nothing Emily! I respect your privacy to the best of my abilities but this is where I draw the line.”

“Why do you care?” You look at her in complete disbelief. “Y/n why do you care so much?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me?” You don’t curse much around her (away from her is a different story) so this is how she could tell when you’re really upset. “Are you serious Emily? Why can’t you just open your heart to me? Is it honestly that hard to sit down and have a decent conversation with me?”

“Y/n,” She pauses. “Why do you care about me? Why do you care about any of this?”

“Because I love you! Do you not understand that? I’m constantly worried about you and the main reason has nothing to do with your job. Its because you compartmentalize so well that it feels like I don’t even know you sometimes. I never know if you’re actually okay because you don’t tell me anything! Not knowing what you’re going through hurts like hell.”

“Y/n...Its not what you think. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Emily,” You take both of her hands in yours. “I’m not the one that’s hurt, you are. I know you don’t like to talk about him but baby if you keep this shit bottled up it will destroy you.” Her mouth opens and closes like she wants to say something but nothing comes out. “The victims reminded you of yourself, didn’t they?”

“What? No,” She tries to shrug off your question. “They were detectives. They were young, blonde, and sporty types. That’s not me.”

“They had to pretend to be in love with a drug lord.

“No...”

“They had to pledge allegiance to a man who didn’t think twice about killing them.”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Someone from their own department exposed them and for that they were executed.”

“Stop!” She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t scream. Her voice is broken by the tears welling up in her eyes.

You lay your palm on her cheek and look deep into her brown eyes. “These women were betrayed by the people sworn to protect them. Their lives were taken by a man who called himself their lover.” She starts to cry a little more and you feel bad but this has to come out.

“Stop. Please.” She chokes.

You wrap her in your arms, with her head on your shoulder. “It could have been you...”

“It could have been me...” She repeats after a beat of silence.

“But it wasn’t you.” You just hold onto her until she pulls away.

“Y/n...I’m sorry.” She takes your other hand in hers. 

“Its okay.” You just hold your love like this is the last time you’ll ever meet. She deserves so much more than what this world has given her. She’s worth more than she’ll ever know. “He will never lay a hand on you ever again.”

She looks at you with the saddest eyes, it reminds you of the childhood pictures she’s shown you. “Never.”

“Never.” You repeat. You sniffle a little while wiping your eyes. “Now, did I hear you say you brought Cheese Rangoons?”

She laughs a little at that. “Yeah...about that...”

“What?” Your eyes narrow on her.

“There’s only one left.” You playfully punch her shoulder. “I ate like three in the car.” Its good to hear her laugh after the day she’s had.

“Its okay.” You grab the bag from the fridge and two bottles of water. “Now, you and I are going to eat in bed and talk about your day while Keeping up with the Kardashians plays in the background.”

“But I hate that show.” She wines.

You steal a quick kiss before heading to the bedroom. “I know, we’re just using it as background noise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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@andreaxxg13​ 

[missinghan]

night changes (2) ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : rich kid!au

❖ word count : 21k.

❖ warning : explicit language & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : fate decides to backfire when you try to pull the son of the Senator in as a barrier between your life and Bang Chan.

❖ a/n : read pt.1 beforehand to understand the story better, I’m too tired to proofread this after the nth time, please don’t @ me.

one. The only reason why your mom persuaded Jeongin to move after when you moved in with your dad was college being practically thirty minutes away from the place. And also because of the rent. You feel bad for your brother mainly since the walls there are awfully thin and the girl next door always seems to have someone over every other night. They aren’t exactly trying to be subtle either. Sometimes you wonder how the fuck can he study for finals when the noise pollution can’t get any worse but he still manages to hit straight A-s.

On the other hand, you and Felix never have to worry about things such as students’ loans or college tuition. Every single penny was paid, as well as every other necessity in life. But you feel like nothing but a filler or a mannequin whenever you dad demands for intimate parties where you’re forced to sit still and look pretty when he’s too busy talking business with the other families. You’re just simply there, in his circle of status. Even when you’re all dressed up in designers’ clothes and whatnots, you still feel so out of place, sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Felix rolls his eyes dramatically when you pull up right in front of a rather ugly tree, scowling hard. “And you’re seriously taking your Rover today? Where did all of your standards go?” He glances sideways and sees a black Mercedes right in front of your car but shrugs it off shortly after.

“Hey! You take that back! She’s my baby! And also, it’s not gonna freak Jeongin out as much as your Tesla would,” you chuckle and punch his arm, earning a wholehearted laugh in return. Despite being born in a well off family, your stepbrother isn’t as much of an asshole as you’re expecting him to be. He’s pretty down to earth and acts like every other college kid that you’ve met with a questionable obsession with Fortnite. Except he loves to shove all the logos of luxurious brands into people’s faces who keep pissing him off, making him that much more intimidating.

“Wait here or stay there, pick your poison,” you tell him before grabbing your key and exit the car.

Felix mumbles something along the lines of ‘don’t be so rude’ and trails after you. He flutters his eyes upwards to take a closer look at the apartment complex before him. It’s quite small but seems very cozy. He wonders if it does feel less isolating and cold when there isn’t so much extra space around him all the time. “Hurry up, Lix! Jeongin gotta run to class in three hours.” With that, he hastily follows you up a narrow, rusty flight of stairs, the place reeks off the smell his dad always despises. He calls it ‘the subway smell’.

When your hand is hovering over the wooden door, it suddenly swings open, revealing an impossibly handsome guy. Chestnut brown hair, midnight orbs, tall nose, and peachy lips. He has you completely frozen for a good five seconds before you snap out of it, raising an eyebrow. Since when did Jeongin have hot guys as his roommates? And since when did your mom even allow him to have roommates? “Uhm sorry, you are..?”

The stranger smiles, perfectly showcasing his white. That’s your weak spot too. You’re a complete sucker for guys with cute smiles. “I’m Jaemin, and uh, my friend asked me to come over and help him with an upcoming exam.” You subconsciously stare at his outfits for a while, seeing no signs of any designers’ pieces. But his posture screams mad confidence, straight back, always maintaining eye contact, like he’s been raised in a wealthy family just like Felix. You can’t help but automatically judge people for what they wear, it’s been drilled into your mindset at some point and you hate yourself for that.

“Hello? Are you okay?” He waves his hand when you stay unresponsive. He partially thinks that you’re mentally judging him for acting like a weirdo.

You laugh nervously, completely oblivious of how Felix is facepalming himself behind your back. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m here to look for my brother.”

“Brother who?” Jaemin narrows his eyes at you skeptically.

“Yang Jeongin? Ring any bell?”

“What? Jeongin never told me he had a sis—“ his gasp is cut off midway when a hand flies to his mouth out of nowhere and pulls him backward. Your brother pokes his head out from behind Jaemin and smiles sheepishly. You can’t help but notice how different his smile is. Oh…where are his braces?

Jeongin says flatly, “Hey, sis, long time no see.” Then he scratches the nape of his neck, unsure of what to say. “Uhm, so what are you doing here?” It’s really been a while since you last saw him. Your dad can’t really do anything because your mom had full custody of raising him and he wanted to stay with her either way. He said he wouldn’t feel like he belongs if he dares to take a single footstep into his billion dollars mansion. Sometimes it feels like you’re just two strangers with the same blood coursing through your veins, family in name, but not in fact. But to be fair, you don’t even have the same last name as him.

“Where’s mom?” You avoid his question before stepping into the studio apartment completely. The last time you were here was when you’re still a freshman in college, you believe. And now all you can do is stand there in awe.

There was nothing but cardboard boxes scattered everywhere, dirty dishes piling up day by day, chipping wallpapers and a crusty old couch that the previous owner left behind as a result of your heartbroken mom. It used to make you grimace but holy shit, mom really did pull herself together. The place is freshly renovated, the smell of new paint is still evident, a teal couch, wooden cabinets, clean kitchen, bathroom on the left along with a brand new TV. Although it’s not the newest model of any sort, you can see how far your mom has come. She worked hard for your brother, and it’s definitely paying off.

Jeongin whispers something into Jaemin’s ears and pushes him out the front door, leaving a very shocked-looking Felix as a witness. “She’s at work,” he states the obvious monotonously.

“Oh,” you chuckle to yourself and let your fingers dance along the kitchen aisle. “Silly me. Anyway, when did you have your braces off? Last week?”

“It’s been a lot longer than that, Y/N. The last time you saw me was Woojin’s wedding.” He massages the side of his temple, sighing heavily. And your heart sinks, a pang of guilt always seems to be inevitable whenever you come over to visit him. Even when it’s only once or twice a year, you could never move on with life without knowing how he’s doing. You tried. “What are you doing here?”

You cut to the chase, “Dad wants you to come and join his party at the hotel this weekend. Nothing major, just another event as an excuse for him to make more money. And also he said he wanted to see you.”

“As if he needs any more money,” your brother sneers. “And he wanted to see me? Don’t be ridiculous. The old man probably wants me there to humiliate the shit out of me so that I’ll stay away from him and his precious jewels.” You perk a brow at what he’s referring you and Felix to, “I’m not gonna be there and smile through the whole thing. I don’t even own a tuxedo for fuck’s sake! Those people aren’t just rich, they’re crazy rich. They’re snoshy, and loud, and act all elegant with thousands of dollars draped over their bodies—“

Felix makes a face, “Snoshy?”

“Posh and snobby.”

“Are you coming for my accent?”

“I dare not.”

He laughs and swings an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders. “Good move, kid. Now get in the car, loser, we’re going shopping.”

The younger boy scrunches his nose in disgust, shoving your stepbrother away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t make me put you in timeout.”

two. Jeongin feels like he’s sitting on a pile of burning coal instead of the espresso-colored velvet couch in the middle of a Tom Ford store. Soft white light slipping through the ceiling, walls embedded with mirrors all around and closets that are probably made with the finest kinds of wood. Even the fake pot of flowers on the glass coffee table in front of him looks more expensive than everything he owns combined. While he’s receiving dirty looks from some of the staff, Felix on the other hand, is too busy skimming through the watches and ties displayed inside the see-through cabinets.

Being humiliated just because he doesn’t dress like ‘your people’ makes him wanna bust through the door and stay at home for three consecutive days. People already disrespected him in a clothing store, what will happen if he attends that stupid intimate party? He’s not gonna fit into the social circle just because he’s wearing some designers’ pieces because that’s not who he is.

“Wrap those up for me,” you voice, face stoic of any emotions.

A staff at the checkout nervously laces her fingers together, a bead of sweat unknowingly rolls down on her temple. “Miss Lee! Having you buy our newest collection is more than we can ever afford, I’ll make sure to contact our superior to let you—“

“To let me fire you?” You cut her off, voice soft and stern at the same time. “Oh please, don’t bother,” the staff almost jumps back when you place one of your hands on hers, your rings cold against her burning skin as shivers run down her spine. “Minho will take good care of you, I guarantee.”

Jeongin groans in pure frustration when you wave at him, smiling in your luxurious glory when he’s sitting inside a high-end store like an absolute idiot. “Tom Ford? What is wrong with you people?” Felix glares at him and he immediately puts his hands up in defense. “Right, sorry. But would you mind and just strangle me right here right now so that I won’t make a grave mistake by putting that on? Can’t I just wear the tux that I had on Woojin’s wedding?” You bringing Felix along had already suffocated him enough when he literally lives and breathes in Gucci. Jeongin is not a fan of the tiger on his bomber jacket either.

“Eh..it’s a little dated, wouldn’t hurt to buy a new one. And did you really think that your sister’s gonna let you pay by yourself? How innocent,” Felix puts an arm over his shoulders when he refers to the brand new suit jacket, dress shirt and slacks on the marble counter. All that for more than ten thousand dollars, so… he’s gonna need more than ten years to pay you back. “Also, did you know that your sister is scary when someone pisses her off?” He whispers under his breath, slightly scared that you’re gonna catch his words.

“You’re wasting my time,” you hand your credit card over to the other staff, in which he receives with shaking hands. “Get yourself clean up and pack your bags, I’m sure a professional like you would have no problem landing another job like this.”

Jeongin almost gawks at how you’re giving ten thousand dollars away like you’re simply buying a burger at McDonald’s. He even feels bad for the staff who’s on the verge of breaking down, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. She did treat him like he was trying to rob the place but having her fired is far too harsh. Now he knows why he should never be on your bad side. “I think I do now.” He swallows thickly with two hands on his knees, the muscles on his back tense.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, we—“

You smile coldly, “That’s enough, I believe you all can reconsider your own behaviors towards customers. All of your customers.”

“Yep,” Felix catches the jet black Tom Ford bag when you walk past the couch, seemingly busy talking on the phone with Minho. “Iced cold motherfucker.”

Then, an unfamiliar figure enters the store the moment you walk out the door. Felix and Jeongin also pass by her without a second look even when they both accidentally catch some parts of her conversation with the staff. Fuzzily. So he doesn’t bother to think too much about it. “Good afternoon, ma’am, how can we help you?”

“I’m here to pick up a tuxedo for my boyfriend,” the girl takes off her sunglasses and grins, a smile that can take the breath right out of anyone.

The staff returns her smile and taps away on the iPad while the others are escorting the crying woman into the bathroom. “May we have the name please?”

Felix tosses the bag into the car trunk as soon as you start the engine, hurrying to the backseats after. Jeongin has his arms crossed in front of his chest in the passenger’s seat, no words can describe how frustrated, and mad, and partially relieved he feels right now all at once. All will be revealed in the next episode of how his sister fucks up every relationship he’s ever made, stay tuned folks!

“I was having a migraine just by seeing you handing out one of your five other credit cards. And firing her too? Aren’t you being too harsh? Couldn’t you spare her any sense of kindness at least?”

You laugh monotonously, “There are way worse things that could have happened to her. Trust me, you don’t wanna know what ‘my people’ can do.” This isn’t the first time you’ve seen some self excessively conceited staff who judges people by their social background. And now they had the audacity to insult your brother? Being fired is the only sense of kindness that you can give them for today.

“Great, now I’m gonna have to pay the old man back.”

You carefully take a turn and almost snort at your brother’s pointless concern. “That was my money, in my own defense. I don’t live off dad’s pennies anymore.” Even if it was your dad’s money, he would never make his biological son pay for what he can’t even afford. That’s like…asking a vegetarian why they want to bring down the mood of a BBQ party.

Jeongin replies flatly, looking out the window in boredom. “Huh, funny. Last time I checked, you said you were working at his hotel. Who’s the big boss there? Where does all the money come from? Him. Same thing.”

“Are you familiar with the triggers of migraines?” Felix abruptly places a hand on Jeongin’s shoulders, almost giving him a heart attack.

Jeongin doesn’t know much about migraines but he does know that your stepbrother is high-key a weirdo who just happens to be born with a butt load of money. “Uh…no?” If he happens to live in the same home with this idiot, he’s gonna go insane in a minimum of twenty-four hours. No doubt.

Felix excitedly laces his hand together and you mentally facepalm yourself. You’re so over his discussion about stuff like this because you know damn well he’s just trying to take it out on people after being stuck in med school for two years. He’s convinced that he’s gonna kill people instead of curing them so his mom gave him the consent to drop out to prolong the family’s legacy. “Here are some of them so that you know what not to do; from most likely to least likely: emotional stress, hormone, not eating, the fucking weather, sleep disturbances, certain odors, neck pain, alcohol, bright lights, smoke, certain foods, exercise, sexual activities, etc.”

“Sexual activities? Like a hangover after getting laid?” Jeongin asks.

“No, like just sex itself but it’s not supposed to happen that often so don’t worry too much about that.”

You automatically grit, feeling the need to bleach your ears after this. “Do not encourage him.”

“Hey! This is for educational purposes! Besides, it’s not like he’s still a little boy or whatever, he’s an adult now. #LifeCoachingWithLeeYongbok.” Felix takes no time to defend himself. “Now, I wish I could lecture you about the hypothalamus and give you a long-winded explanation of the science behind it, but Imma spare you for today.” Even if it were possible for you to sew his lips together, there’s no doubt that those unnecessarily inappropriate words would still find their ways to crawl out of his mouth and potentially mess up your little brother’s entire existence.

You let out a humorless chuckle, one that yells ‘hey, stop before you fucked it up for the rest of us’. “I’d hate to poke your enormous ego, but whoever attends your classes is gonna have their life crumbling right in front of their eyes.”

Felix simpers at your attempt of a clapback. “Actually no, people who attend my classes drastically turn their life around because they know what not to do. If you think about it, all of my advice to you has been great. I just don’t practice what I preach,” he tuts in that deepass voice of his, not noticing how Jeongin’s face is morphing into a very disgusted expression. “Just one more shot, I’ll be fine. I can quit whenever I want. I’m not addicted,” he mocks one of his friends who can’t stop drinking for their own good. “No, you won’t you lying bitch. An example of someone who followed that sentiment is right in front of you.”

He fairly believes that he can become the youngest professor to be teaching at a college or university with a Ph.D. in the ‘Getting your shit together’ Department.

But in your eyes, these are just some of the side effects that he got from hanging out with Minho so much. Being bitchy and all. If anything, Minho should be the one who takes his spot and becomes the youngest staff for big places like Harvard or Oxford. And you’d love to continue this nonsense of an argument but you’re already pissed off by that staff previously so you should just let him win or your dad’s gonna find you three ending up in the E.R.

“So this is what I get for setting you up with Chan,” Jeongin crosses his arms and you glance at him sideways, staying silent for the rest of the drive home.

three. Chan dreads the packing process after a long tremendously because not only does he have to trust his idiotic friends to not damage his luggage, he also has to help them pack since they are literal children. Changbin’s butler straight up shakes his head when Chan FaceTimed him, asking about how he usually helps him with preparation for a trip. He really hopes his family pays the man good money because dealing with Changbin’s impulsive, indecisive ass sounds extremely exhausting, and burdensome as well.

“Which one?” Changbin refers to a dozen of black tuxedos hanging inside the dressing room, and Chan feels like his brain’s about to retire.

He exclaims in frustration, “THEY’RE ALL BLACK FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

“No you uneducated moron,” Changbin purses his lips, “There’s carbon black, raisin black, olive black, super black, coal-black,..which one’s sexy enough for me to snatch myself a date at the party?”

“Seo Changbin!”

Chan’s been so sensitive these days, to the point that he decided to whack a mosquito with his MacBook the other day. He did miss the mosquito, but also, he almost killed Jisung who’s taking a nap right beside him in the studio. And apparently, Han Jisung holds grudges. Hence, there’s no way in hell is he gonna help Chan in the ‘Getting Seo Changbin aka the snobby brat the perfect tuxedo’ Operation. It would be way easier if Jisung was here.

Changbin interjects his trains of thoughts, “Silk or wool?”

“Uh- silk.”

“The Gabardine one or the smoking jacket?”

Chan makes a face, “Smoking jacket?” Whatever that means. He didn’t like the shoulder pads on the other one anyway.

“You heard him, Park, go get that ish and wrap it up! Go go go!” Changbin pauses for a second, “Wait, no, actually…just take them both.”

Call him delusional, but in the span of ten seconds, Chan fully believes he’s already entered (or has been pushed into) the Panamera 4 E-Hybrid that’s waiting outside of the mall. Jisung’s sitting in the passenger’s seat, honking the car repeatedly while the Seo family’s chauffeur is constantly throwing daggers at him with his eyes. Now he’s starting to question if bringing Jisung to the mall would be the wisest decision.

“What’s with the grumpy face, grandpa?” He chimes unhelpfully with a pout on his face. And now all Chan wants to do is to deck his perfect teeth and knock upside his head. “You really need to lighten up, old man, you’re going home!” He groans dramatically, arms crossed like a three-year-old.

“Yeah, going home,” Chan says with expressive hands. “To put on a goddamn show for my grandparents so that they won’t have a heart attack knowing that I can’t give two fucks about their promise with some random family in the same circle.” He’s on the verge of breaking down just thinking about going hand in hand in public with another woman that’s not you. It makes him sick to the stomach more knowing that he’s been hiding everything from you.

He’s such an asshole for doing this to you. Avoiding your calls and texts every other day becomes almost all too unbearable for his shoulders. Instead, he’s been trying to leave you voicemails every other week but it seems like you’ve already despised him. The night of Woojin’s wedding comes crashing down on him as he takes a stroll down memory lane. He might as well be cursed because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to have you in his arms again. The saying: “out of sight, out of mind” works for some people as an excuse to forget someone but truth is, he still misses you, all the time, every second, every minute, every hour, every day.

“So you didn’t tell her?” Changbin perks a dark brow.

“Not yet…”

“You should though,”

Chan barks, “I know! She just won’t answer my voicemails,”

“Then call her you coward!” Changbin immediately barks back, fingers still tapping away on his phone, “Look, if Y/N was your date in the first place, you would be crazy giddy and all right now, and not the nervous kind of giddy, but like the exciting kind of giddy. You are so loopy in love with her it makes me wanna feed my eyeballs to my dad’s German Shepherd whenever you’re FaceTiming her,”

Chan’s been clenching his jaw for God knows how long, and now it’s starting to ache. “Don’t say that, she probably hates me. Like you said, I’m a coward. I don’t deserve her and she doesn’t deserve this. Falling for Y/N was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. All I’ve been doing is tearing us apart. Sometimes I wish I didn’t fall for her—“

“—listen up, you genius. If falling for Y/N is a sin then so be it. Because being in love with her is gonna be the best fucking mistake you’ve ever made in your twenty-three years of existing,” Changbin’s words start zeroing in on Chan, so when he opens his mouth to say something, it automatically snaps closed. “I’ve never seen your eyes do that thing where they sparkle whenever we mention her name or when you’re just simply giggling to yourself while texting her. And have you seen the way that she looks at you? She looks at you like you’re the only person to exist on this planet, like someone she’s ever truly loved more than herself.”

Chan drops his gaze from Changbin to his knees, his heart beating rapidly at the sound of your name. Goddamn, he really misses you. “It’s okay, Bin, even if she hates me. I can—“

Changbin interjects immediately, gripping onto his friend’s shoulders tightly and stares into his tired eyes. “Don’t fucking tell me that it’s okay because I saw you alone in the studio every night. You were crying like a baby!” Seo Changbin gives really good advice because pushing people to their limits, not crossing them, just dangling at the edge so that they can’t stop acting like a loser and get their shit together is what he does for a living. Without getting paid a single penny.

“It’s because I’m losing her! I did that to myself!” Chan shudders at his own words, shaking his head profusely to hold back his tears. The idea of losing you sounds so terrifyingly panic-stricken that he would rather lose anything else than not have you in his life, or just not having you at all in the first place. Chan was an idiot for kissing you that night but something deep down still tells him that “screw life, you said what you said and you did what you did, now go out there and get her back before she falls into someone else’s arms”.

Changbin corrects him, pinpointing his words. “You’re losing her, you didn’t lose her yet. You still have an opportunity to make it up to her.” He knows Chan long enough to know that his friend doesn’t easily wear his feelings on his sleeves, mainly because he’s the eldest in 3RACHA. If he falls, the group’s gonna fall with him. But today, seeing the pool of tears in his eyes, the raw emotions in his voice makes Changbin believe that he’s senselessly, wildly in love with you. He knows damn well that Chan would never let you slip away again.

“This is your chance, to prove to Y/N that you’re still the goofy, caring, dumbass Bang Chan that she has already fallen in love with, not only once, but twice.”

four. “Have you been hearing anything from Chan? He hasn’t called me for two months. Changbin and Jisung have been avoiding me like the plague too.” Woojin asks you with a questionable looking drink in his hand. Minho said he mixed the masterpiece with all of his blood, sweat, and tears. You don’t know how to take it, metaphorically, or literally because both options would make sense. You’re just fairly concerned for Woojin’s liver since he’s been attending too many parties, mainly for business but still, that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna stay away from alcohol.

So much for adulting.

“Not really,” you didn’t want to admit that Chan was ignoring your texts and calls before but it’s quite obvious now that he doesn’t want to talk to you. You didn’t think about it much at the beginning because everything must have been so hard for him in a foreign country where young talents are out there competing with each other like they’re in The Hunger Games. But daily conversations turned into weekly, and then monthly and then basically non-existent. No more ‘Good morning’, no more ‘How was your day?’, no more ‘I miss you’. None of that.

The kiss that day seems like it’s disintegrated into literal dust.

‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ sounds like utter bullshit now and you’ve never felt so foolish for saying ‘I love you’ to someone you truly believe won’t take your heart and crush it. But Chan did just that. You spent lots of sleepless nights thinking, and bawling your eyes out. You felt so lost and tremendously hurt. You didn’t know what to do. But you soon figured that it’s okay, people aren’t supposed to know what to do in those kinds of situations. You just gotta figure it out by yourself. So wherever he may be, whatever he’s doing, you still hope that he’s happy. That’s all that matters.

Or maybe you’re just too tired to reach out to him again.

You reply with a lifeless smile, bracing yourself for the upcoming party that’s starting in less than an hour. “He hardly talks to me. He doesn’t even text me in full sentences anymore.” You shrug it off casually, ignoring the sound of your heart aching to focus on other stuff for the time being. “Maybe he’s just busy? You know how problematic the music industry is.”

“Being busy isn’t an excuse to ignore your loved ones, Y/N,” Woojin knits his brows together. “Mind you, I still come home to my wife at nine o’clock, every single day.”

You check the time and almost panic, but before you can form a proper sentence, someone’s already dragged you away from the scene, “Look after Jeongin for me! Got it?” You yell back at him only to receive a thumbs up with a grimace. Woojin is the CEO of a well-known IT firm, after all, no one’s gonna mess with Jeongin if he stays by his side. The last thing you want is your brother coming home sobbing his heart out just because some wonderbread doesn’t know when to keep their mouth shut.

“I’m like..” You trail off while tapping away on your phone. “—pretty much free tomorrow morning, right?”

Chaeyoung - your assistant frowns and stops you midway, smoothing out your baby hair. “Not quite, you can’t skip DBR at seven,” she asserts. “And the daily phone call with your dad- I mean, the CEO at half-past six as well.” It’s obvious that everyone wants a coffee in the morning and since it’s a common time to gather, it seems like DBR (or Daily Business Review) is a good idea to just have a meeting before the day starts. The rules are simple. The meeting can not last more than half an hour and to make sure, you all stand up. You talk about the night before, VIPs coming in, the forecast for the coming day and any common issues to the group. Then you all dismiss and go to work. This way, everyone is on the same page 24/7.

“Oh, and a meeting at three too, and also the Kims Are coming in fifteen minutes.” She checks her watch subconsciously and it reads [7:30p.m.]

“Right, right,” you close your eyes for a moment and let the information sink in, slightly taken aback by yourself that you forgot Jennie’s coming back from New Zealand. The party won’t start until eight, you can still spare fifteen minutes and chat with your friend before being pulled away into utterly unnecessary conversations. “I can’t believe I almost forgot Jen’s visiting us…” You murmur under your breath, “God, Chaeng, what would I do without you?”

Chaeyoung pushes your shoulder playfully, “You’d die, obviously.” She’s not necessarily wrong because if it weren’t for her to manage your shitty schedule, your life would become a fucking merry-go-round which makes you all nauseous and dizzy. As if you’re not being tossed around and fucked up enough.

“Hypothetically speaking, I can just hire another assistant and move on with my life,” you smile cheekily.

She follows you towards the front desk, where Lisa is too busy texting someone cute to focus on her main task: greeting people that she despises with her entire existence. “Well, hypothetically speaking, no one can replace me and you would never have the heart to do that anyway.” Again, you hate it when she’s right. And she’s always right. Because she’s Park Chaeyoung.

You put your phone away finally and ask her about your beige suit with matching high-waisted slacks. “How do I look?” Also, you’re never wearing heels again because you’ve learned not to torment your precious feet when you’re gonna be out and about, being dragged around like a rag doll. Woojin’s wedding taught you that.

Chaeyoung gives you the warmest smile, “Like a boss bitch,”

“You have to come with us to Bora Bora this summer! We just opened a summer resort there with a beach and spa services, it’s absolutely delightful! Very fitting for de-stressing, dare I say.”

“How convenient! Do you see these wrinkles? We were all exhausted after the flight from New York. And I’m stressing over how it’s impossible for my son to improve his English. How in the world is he gonna travel the world for business trips now?”

“Ew,” you automatically scrunch your nose at your stepmom’s conversation with the Senator’s wife. “If we’re gonna act like that when we’re their age, I’d rather jump off a cliff.” And Chaeyoung clears her throat awkwardly when she sees your mom waving you over, giving you a pat on your back. There goes your fifteen minutes of freedom.

You quickly fix the lapels of your blazer and muster a sickly sweet smile, just for the Senator’s wife. “Yes, mom?” Or in this case, ‘stepmom’ but you wouldn’t want it to be awkward for the both of them. She does treat you with nothing but kindness and generosity although you’re not her actual daughter.

“Honey,” you almost snort at the nickname. Honey is practically a bee’s vomit. So you don’t really see the point in calling people bee’s barf. Ain’t cool. “You must know that this is the Senator’s wife, she suggested that you and their son can perhaps—“

You cut her off sharply. “No,”

“Y/N, don’t be so rude,” she laughs nervously as the Senator’s wife wears an unreadable look on her face. As if she’s interested in your particular kind of demeanor like you’re a completely different species. She doesn’t seem to be mad or offended at all. “I’m sorry, you see, this girl can play hard to get from time to time…and—“

You elect to ignore every word that comes out of her mouth from this very moment. Not again with this bullshit. An arranged marriage is basically a living embodiment of your biggest nightmare. You can’t imagine being tied down to a person that you barely know just because of their social status or for the sake of mutual benefits. Not to mention, every guy in the circle is all the same anyway. Disrespectful, egotistical, and only show mild interest if the person they’re marrying at least has something to offer that’s related to cold, hard cash in the long run.

It feels like the world just stops spinning when you flutter your eyes upwards and make direct eye contact with him. He enters the front entrance in a full-on black tuxedo, black silk shirt tucked neatly into his pants, chestnut hair rather well-styled, and black dress shoes. The outfit looks like it was made for him, personally tailored to every detail of his body. You almost scowl and look away until you recognize that smile, those midnight orbs.

To your dismay, the Senator’s wife exclaims, “My goodness! I told him not to wear that specific shirt!” before excusing herself from the conversation.

“Uhm is that…”

“Oh yes! That’s their son, Jaemin. Felix used to go to the same kindergarten as him, I believe,” your stepmom explains calmly, watching how you’re slowly becoming interested in the Senator’s only son. So that explains the black Mercedes in front of Jeongin’s apartment. “He got sent to a private school in the UK after graduating from middle school but somehow, I don’t know how he still can’t speak fluently English. Maybe you can help—“

You quickly realize how fast the situation’s escalating and you must say, you’re not letting that happen. “Sorry mom, Jen’s here! I gotta go!” Learning to let Chan go is one thing, but getting yourself into an arranged marriage with another guy who cares about nothing but money is an absolutely torturous idea.

People change, they all do eventually. But sometimes they don’t. Certain things can never fluctuate despite the circumstances. For instance, Kim Jennie still pulls you into a bone-crushing hug like she always does the moment she spots you in the crowd. Her gummy smile didn’t change, her gestures, the way she walks with pride didn’t change and you highly doubt that she no longer sneaks cute boys into the house when her parents are conveniently abroad. But she definitely looks more mature the last time that you guys met in Paris.

“Wow, Jen,” you utter. “You look…good,” Tonight she’s wearing a white dress from Chanel, diamond earrings and bold red lipstick. And don’t even get you started on her ring, you’re pretty sure that it was a present from the brand themselves. She is the ambassador, after all, they would be more than happy to spoil her with their newest collections.

Jennie takes a look at your outfit, twirling you around before breaking into a fit of giggles. “Good? I look good? You look gorgeous! Look at you! Well, actually you look just fine in your PJs as well. Heck, you can even breathe in this thing, I can’t relate,” she beams and keeps on admiring you as if you’re her own life-sized Barbie doll. Baggy clothes can look good, she knows that now.

Jennie clings onto one of your arms and receives a glass of champagne from a waiter, smiling at him softly. “So, how are you enjoying the party, manager Lee?”

You threaten to spill alcohol on her fifteen thousand dollars dress but only proceed to roll your eyes because you value her money too much for the sake of being petty. “It’s kinda meh,” you make a face. “But you know, let’s just get it over with. And to be honest..I’m kind of sick of socializing with people that I don’t even like.”

“Oh really?” Jennie raises a brow curiously when she sees a certain someone in the midst of the chaotic party. “Someone seems to be interested in you though, that cutie over there…” She then motions towards the general direction of Na Jaemin, the person who you’ve been trying to avoid all night. “I think he fancies you. Been eyeing you up and down for the past ten minutes,”

Right, you also forgot that Jennie didn’t know about you and Chan.

“Actually—“

“My God! Did you see that? The Bangs are here!” She gasps and tries to tiptoe in order to get a closer look, allowing her heels to dig into her feet even more. You won’t blame her, the Bangs are basically the biggest developers in Korea. Real estate, investment, tons of things, tons of boring paperwork but you do respect them for what they do. “I heard their eldest son’s dating some up and coming artist, her exhibitions were quite successful, all big hits since last year. It’s mind-blowing!”

You pull your friend back in time when people are shoving each other before her white dress can be contaminated with the bubbly champagne. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to patch your lips together?”

“Damn, he looks fine,” your friend murmurs and has you roll your eyes for one too many times tonight already. “I’m not messing with you, look!” She grabs either side of your face and turns it sideways, towards the front entrance.

You feel like someone just kicked you to the curb and stepped on you, knocking the breath right out of your chest. It’s Chan, it’s really Chan. Navy tuxedo, brown hair styled neatly, he looks even more beautiful than the last time you’ve seen his face. Beside him, hand in hand is another girl. She has the most delicate features and probably the most angelic smile in this world. She’s looking at him all lovingly, the same look you gave him approximately a year ago when you thought that the kiss did mean something to him. Apparently, it didn’t. Now you feel like a paper bag being thrown away, forgotten in the corner, drifting through life like a haze.

Your heart is stuck in your throat, slowly crumbling into dust when you see how he smiles at her, the dimpled smile that you treasured with your entire heart. They look like they are meant to be. And yes, you wanted to see him again but not like this. It’s like karma’s trying to tell you that this is what you get for falling in love with Chan faster than a tick of a clock, for foolishly holding onto false hope. And your butt load of money doesn’t matter anymore because your everything is already being held in someone else’s arms.

Now you’re the one who’s left with a broken heart.

five. In the dead of the night, you no longer feel the sounds of your heart shattering into pieces. Chan’s just making it easier for you to forget him.

“Y/N?” You stay unresponsive at his voice calling out to you. Every cell, every muscle, every neuro inside your body is yelling at you to turn around and throw your arms around his neck. The willpower that you’re mustering to not do that right is impossibly terrifying. But you’re not giving in again, not this time. You won’t be able to piece your heart back together after a second heartbreak. “It’s been quite a while huh? Are you—“

You turn around with glossy eyes, tears threatening to spill any second. Chan’s words get caught dead in his throat upon seeing you on the verge of breaking down. It hurts more knowing that he’s the one who made you cry. “You should have told me..” Your voice cracks and it breaks Chan’s heart into a million pieces at how broken you are. “You should have told me if you wanted to cut it off sooner..” You smile bitterly with tears rolling down on either side of your cheek. You no longer care about how pathetic you may sound or look, you just want to be completely transparent with him.

Another thing that you hate about yourself: how you just let yourself go exposed and vulnerable right in front of his eyes. “What happened to ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’? Does our kiss that night mean nothing to you? Was I setting the bar too high? Was I…getting in your way?” You ask him between quiet sobs, not bothering to put on a fake smile anymore. You’re too exhausted for that anyway. “You didn’t even tell me..that you’re part of the Bangs family, like the Bangs family. What else are you hiding from me, Chan?”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders to hold you back firmly, eyes boarding into yours fiercely. His touch once made your heart weak, now you feel nothing but disgust when his fingertips graze past your clothed skin. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t understand— she’s not—“

“Y/N!”

Chan snaps his head towards the owner of the voice and grimaces when he sees Jaemin waving at you from the other side of the room. You gotta be shitting me. Chan then looks over at you in disbelief, eyes almost popping out of their respective sockets. Out of all people, you’re dating Na Jaemin? The Senator’s son? Without letting him know? And you’re accusing him of hiding things from you when you’re also with someone new already? “You know,” you wipe your tears away and look him dead in the eye. “I’ve always thought that all the guys in my dad’s social circle were a bunch of ignorant jerks, but it turns out you’re the asshole.”

With that, you briskly walk away with your phone clutched in your hands, knuckles turning white as you bite down your tears. Chan’s gaze trails after your figure until you’re completely gone, falling into another man’s arms like it’s your safe place. Jaemin caresses your cheekbone and smiles at you. You return it too, bitterly. It was supposed to be Chan who makes you feel like the happiest woman in this world, not the one who takes your heart and crushes it into pieces. His heart breaks, again, and again, and again, and again until he no longer feels its presence beating inside his rib cage. There’s something else more than just distance between the both of you now, something that was never there in the first place. Little did you know, you’re not the only one with a broken heart after all.

“Jaemin right?” You sniffle when he lures you away from the party, away from the chaos, away from Chan. “Thank you, I can manage myself now.”

Jaemin shakes his head and speaks to you softly. “Nonsense. I’m staying here with you. The party sucks, but don’t take it personally.”

You chuckle with teary eyes, but you’ve determined not to cry again tonight, especially not in front of the Senator’s son. “Does my brother know that his tutor is the son of the Senator?” Jaemin shakes his head again, the warm smile never once leaves his lips. He gently wipes a single tear that unknowingly rolls down on your cheek and heat flares through your nostrils, a shade of coral scattered across your face. This is why you never cry in front of a stranger.

“There, there you crybaby,” he comforts you with a hand on your shoulder, the other pulling out a handkerchief to dab your tears away. “Who knows the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel is such a softie. I heard from the staff that you’re fucking scary when someone gets on your bad side.”

“Then don’t get on my bad side,” you roll your eyes in annoyance. “But God, I really can’t blame them. Our people are so posh, and snobby—“

“We’re basically snoshy,” he finishes your sentence and laughs. “Your brother tells me that all the time, if only he knew about my family. He’s most likely gonna murder me in my sleep.”

You roll your eyes, pushing his hand away slightly. “This is why we’ll never get a happy ending of our own. What’s the point of owning all the dollar bills when we’re just sad motherfuckers? And people wonder why we all prefer one night stands. I fucking beg to differ. Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed him that night. Maybe I was nothing but an instant filler for his non-existent love life. ‘Do you still want my phone number?’ He didn’t even bother texting me anymore! Bullshit!”

Jaemin doesn’t know you very well but by the looks of it, you’re definitely not the type to lash out on someone very often. You must have been furious with that Chan guy because whatever he’s done to you, shit must have stung. Because you still look at him with those eyes. Eyes of those who are madly in love. He can’t change that.

“Y/N,” he pulls you into a hug and rubs little circles on your back as an attempt to soothe your aching heart. “Listen, it’s okay if he’s not the one. He might be the wrong person at the right time for all I know. And your soulmate is probably taking their sweet ass time because they are completely oblivious about your existence. But they will be there for you, they will, I promise. You know damn well how life likes to toss us around right? Love is patient, love is kind. And it will come one day.”

You snicker and hug him back, grateful for how he’s already consoling you although you’ve only met twice. Maybe he isn’t like the other boys in the same circle, maybe he’s different even when he dresses the same and looks the same. “Cliché sayings are cliché for a reason, Jaemin,” you laugh before pulling away, staring into his starry eyes.

“I know I know,” he squishes your cheeks together and chuckles. “But hey, sometimes they’re not wrong either. Tell you what though, I was so close to decking that guy in the face back there but I didn’t want to go all Alpha Apeshit and appeared as a douchebag then get blood on his goddamn Tom Ford. Just throwing that out there in case it does help you feel better.”

You can feel your tear-stained cheeks cool against the night breeze. The balcony seems to be the only place that you can seek calmness in, mainly because there’s no alcohol and no one to push you from one boring conversation to another with the same topics. Your people are basically repeating themselves over and over again about money and arranged marriages which you’re not very interested in so yes, you don’t see the purpose of throwing parties that only consist of the top 1%. You lean your back against the railings and watch the party from afar, letting the background chatters sink in. Soon this whole place will be within your grasp along with many others, but you’re afraid that you’ll be lost in your own empire.

“No offense,” you turn back to him and smile. “I didn’t think you’d be able to throw a punch at all.”

Jaemin makes a face, “I’m not like those wonderbreads over there,” then smirks devilishly. “But I’ll never be one’s knight in shining armor. Life just teaches me things that our people don’t. For example, living in a mansion won’t teach you how to throw or take a proper punch. Also, wear black because you’ll never know whose blood is gonna be on there.”

“So you’re saying that being sent to boarding school is the best thing that’s ever happened in your life?”

“Not quite,” he winks. “The best thing that’s ever happened in my life is to have the pleasure of meeting you.”

You shove his chest and laugh wholeheartedly, it feels nice to talk to someone like this. “Don’t flirt with me and find yourself another trophy out there, I’m too bitchy to fit in with those chicks.” You jerk your head towards the girls who are all dressed up in fancy dresses and heavy jewelry, finding amusement in how they’re all eyeing Jaemin up and down like he’s a prettier version of an ATM. “And also, what do you expect? You have the look, the money, know how to kick someone’s ass. That’s more than what a trophy wife needs.”

Jaemin scratches his neck sheepishly. “I don’t know how to take that but thank you, you look better than all of them honestly. I don’t know why women choose to suffocate themselves in a dress and torment their feet just to attract guys with thick wallets like me. I think I’ll need to settle down sooner or later and I’m not planning on doing that with a brat who only sees how many dollar signs I can afford on Yelp.” He sighs in pure frustration and a puff of cold air escapes his lips.

“Haha very funny, Na Jaemin is adulting like how the Senator’s son should be in his early 20s,” you joke. “And no, I’m not gonna make fun of you for that. You want me to pinpoint where we are right now? Adulthood.”

“No! I’m being serious!”

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

“Let me take you on a date and prove it.”

“You’re drunk,” you laugh nervously. But suddenly he inches in closer and your breath hitches in your throat. Nope. He’s dead-ass serious. “You’re being fucking serious, aren’t you?”

Jaemin brings your hand up and presses a small kiss on your knuckles, “See you around, manager Lee.” before sliding away with ease, leaving you blushing so furiously that you almost forgot your heart was broken that night.

six. While you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack because of a date, Kuma - Jennie’s Pomeranian is complaining to you with his eyes about his first world problems aka, Jennie leaving his favorite toy back in New Zealand. “Yes, yes, I get that it’s absolutely unforgivable of her to do that.” You acknowledge and nod absentmindedly, petting him gently. “If anything, I can do you a favor and douse one of her favorite dresses in pickle juice.”

“But also what?” You tilt your head slightly, “She what?! She insulted your favorite tuna bites?! She’s a witch! Burn her!”

“I can’t stand the goddamn smell, that’s all.”Jennie glares at you while hauling her suitcases out of the closet. “You dramatic, bitchy, ungrateful ass.”

“Jen, it’s just a dinner date.”

Jennie dodges your eye roll and proceeds to rummage through one of her ten suitcases, throwing dresses and bodysuits all over the floor. She’s lucky the suite has plenty of extra space or you won’t be able to see the floor in the next fifteen minutes for all you know. Kim Jennie goes ham on picking out clothes for her favorite bitches because not only is she one of the most acclaimed actresses but she’s also a fashion icon, influencer, and Chanel’s one and only darling. Hence, knowing that you’re going on a date with the dress code: formal; she freaked out and dragged you all the way from your house to the hotel that she’s staying in.

You facepalm yourself onto the extra king-size bed and sighs into the soft blanket. Yeah, that’s how rich the Kims are. Not king-size, but extra king-size that can fit at least four people but still have extra leg space. You know where to have your girls’ night this weekend now because you’d rather not have Ryujin whip your ass for bringing friends over.

Your groan grows louder when you keep hearing Jennie repeats “I’m a genius, a fucking genius!” to herself over and over again until she stops. And that’s when you decide to push yourself off the bed carefully to not wrinkle your clothes. “Look at this baby!” She holds up a long, bedazzled gown with spaghetti straps. Gives you a very 70s vibe but you’re not mad at it, you think you might be able to pull it off. “Listen, if you don’t look good in this, I’ll call Chanel and drop it as a flop, got it?”

Wow, Chanel is hanging on the edge of flopping by a strand of hair just because of you. The pressure’s on.

Jennie shoves you into the ridiculous-sized bathroom with marble floor and all, she’s definitely not letting you wear one of your blazers today. “Knock knock,” she impatiently leans against the door after what seems like ten minutes. But all Jennie’s met with is dead silence, she’s starting to get worried now. “Y/N, you good?”

You barge out of the bathroom with a panicked expression, shrieking. “Kim Jennie what were you thinking?!” When she gives you a what-do-you-mean look, you mentally groan to yourself and are kind of ready to call the date off. You’re not going out looking like this. “It’s 64 degrees outside and you’re making me wear this?!” You do a full 360 turn to only to show her the awfully low cut on the back of the dress, and she immediately claps happily like a seal. God, what is wrong with your friend?

“Stunning! Absolutely stunning!” Jennie nods to herself like the evil mad mind genius that she is. “You’re pretty tolerant, so I think it’s not gonna be a problem.”

“Do I have a say in this?” You eye her in defeat when she helps you on a dainty necklace and a pair of silver earrings.

Jennie puts her hands on her hips and almost laughs, admiring you like a piece of art, a creation that she will forever keep in her heart. “What makes you think so?” And off to the date, you go.

Jaemin picks you up not long after, wearing a full-on white suit in his black Mercedes. It’s not hard to guess that it’s his favorite. Since the party from last week, both of you have been texting and FaceTiming non-stop, it almost feels like he’s making up for the lost time that Chan’s wasted. For the Senator’s son, he’s surprisingly approachable, very quirky but charming at the same time. Jaemin does give an effort to make you laugh every time he sends you the same memes over and over again. Hey, it’s not your fault his humor is impeccable.

But being one of the Elite, you can’t blame him for wanting to do it the old-fashioned way. Fancy restaurant, having waiters drape white napkins over your lap, cheesy classical music in the background and the typical candles to set the romantic atmosphere. The place is quite busy too, some ladies in their forties are wheezing in helpless laughter as a waitress secretly shoots them dirty looks while a group of businessmen is eating in silence, an old couple is feeding each other in the corner and a younger couple that you don’t really pay attention to since they’re too far away. Sometimes you wonder what that feels like, to have someone by your side forever.

Maybe forever is just not meant for you.

Forever might not be for you, but going on a date feels like a fresh breeze passing by after so much pain and agony. Jaemin always tries to make you feel as comfortable as possible but still manages to make you laugh until your stomach hurts and tears are evident in the corners of your eyes. He’s not one of those guys who’s not used to hearing the word ‘no’ and never pushes your boundaries. But the feeling’s not there, it’s just not there at all and you wish that it was. You can’t play along then end up breaking his heart later on. No one deserves going through that, not even the ones who lost your trust.

“Okay..” Jaemin peels his eyes away from his crème brûlée’s when you set your fork down. “Just to be clear, I don’t hate you but I would never date you.” And he immediately chokes on his big bite, coughing furiously into the white napkin. You’re very straight to the point, he appreciates that, but still, ouch.

“Tell me three valid reasons why I should stop going after your heart.”

“One, I don’t wanna break your heart. Two, I don’t want you to break mine. And three, I just threw it in the trash.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes rather dramatically, holding back a lighthearted chuckle. “So what? You got your heart broken by some bastard and now you’re gonna distance yourself from everything that’s related to ‘love’? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this? Alone? In your giant mansion with your butt load of money?”

“Yes,” you nod without hesitation, trying to ignore the bitter feeling that’s rising in your throat. “And technically I can adopt as many puppies as I want to.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs and moves a bit to the side. “There’s your man, twelve o’clock.”

You feel like you would personally gouge your eyes out of the sockets the moment they land on Chan and his current girlfriend at the opposite table if you weren’t sane enough for a Michelin-rated restaurant. They’re both wearing black, laughing and talking with each other like they’re the only beings left in this world. You wonder if fate could be a bit more generous to you, just a little bit, then would you be there with Chan instead? You’ve told yourself one too many times not to dwell on the past but like always, you never learn. And you know that you’re dumb but you still don’t get why fate forces two people to meet each other knowing damn well that one of them is gonna leave the other behind.

But this time when you look more closely, his smile looks somewhat forced and the dark circles under his eyes have been darkened by time. He looks so tired and drained but still keeps up the smile for his date. A pang of guilt hits you hard when you realize that you should have listened to what he had to say at the party. He doesn’t look happy, that’s what ticks you off.

Chan subconsciously flickers his eyes upwards and meets yours, completely frozen in his spot like a statue. His smile falters, eyes going wide from surprise, utterly, undeniably speechless. It’s not easy to read what’s going on in his mind but you’re positive that he doesn’t seem to expect to see you in this kind of situation. He quickly averts his gaze back onto the other girl, laughing nervously so that she won’t turn around and accidentally see you. Your heart unknowingly sinks to the pit of your stomach.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” you never knew that you’ve been crying until Jaemin gently wipes your tears away with his handkerchief, his eyes softening at your sobbing form. “But it is what it is.”

seven. Chan quickly calls in a cab for his date after sliding his credit card across the counter. He grimaces slightly when she presses a goodbye kiss on his cheek, and then waves her off when she enters the taxi. After receiving his bill, Chan pushes himself through the busy waiters and waitresses, mumbling small “sorry” along the way until his feet lead him to the long flight of stairs.

And he sees you standing there with your back against him, fiddling with your fingers nervously. He knows you’ve never been good at hiding how awkward you are so it gives him a tiny bit of hope when he finds out he still has this kind of effect on you. But when he takes a few more steps forwards, his jaw almost drops to the floor when he can finally get a closer look at your dress.

Chan’s never seen you in a dress before, but he believes that you have the ability to pull off anything. He’s not wrong after all. The dress hugs your figure perfectly and in the most flattering way, leaving him in complete awe. But you’d never choose a dress, even when it’s a formal dinner. Goddamn, that kid is one lucky son of a bitch, he mentally curses.

You meet Chan once again on a balcony, but tonight you’re met with a sky without stars. It seems like they can’t even muster the courage to see where this conversation is gonna go.

“What’s her name?” You ask breathlessly, still not willing to make direct eye contact with him.

Chan inhales deeply, and exhales, “Her name is Eunji. Apparently, our families had an agreement that we’re gonna be engaged once we reached a certain age. I’m so sorry for shutting you out without a proper explanation, I really am. I’m such an asshole.”

You finally can look at him without getting all teary-eyed, your lips trembling. “It’s alright,” then you quickly look away to avoid any awkwardness. “You guys look good together, I’m happy for you both.” And when Chan doesn’t say anything, you decide to ask him softly. “But are you?”

He buries his face into the palms of his hands and sighs heavily. “I- I don’t know, I just don’t want to let them down. And I tried so hard to tell them that I already had someone else but I’m just scared that—“

“That they won’t accept me because you didn’t know that I do in fact, make cold, hard cash?” You stare deeply into the distance and laugh humorlessly. “After all those years, I had no idea, no fucking idea that you were Christopher Bang, like the Christopher Bang, the one who’s supposed to take over the family’s business, the most eligible bachelor in the country.”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders, catching you off guard when your noses are barely touching, his warm breath fanning your face. “Speak for yourself. You’ve never even told me that you were Felix’s stepsister. All those years of college, and I only know that you’re the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel now. And why are you dating the Senator’s son again? Last time I checked, you’re still leaving me messages even when I went MIA or put the phone on silent all the time.”

“I can date whoever I want to,” you try to shove his arms away but his grip only gets tighter. “And no shit, you know I’m not into guys like that. We’re not dating, he offered me dinner after seeing me so miserable at the party.”

And you quickly assert with a fake smile. “But that’s not the point, is it? Let me guess, if I were not some daughter of the CEO of the biggest hotel chain in the country, then you would never tell your parents about me, would you? You’d rather marry Eunji so that your grandparents won’t potentially disown you instead.”

Chan shakes his head profusely because he could never, would never, can never, and will never trade you for anything else in this world. “No, you don’t understand- I- just- just give me some time and-“ He loves you too much to the point that his heart bleeds a bit whenever you catch his gaze from across the table and return to your conversation with Jaemin, giggling and laughing at his lame jokes like nothing’s ever happened. But his biggest problem here, is how can he convey his love to you once again when you’ve already despised him with every single cell inside your body?

You narrow your eyes at him, slightly amused by how he’s stuttering. “And?”

“Let me make it up to you,” he tells you after running a hand through his brown locks. “Come with my family on a cruise trip next month in Singapore. I’ll prove myself to you and do everything in my power to get your trust back. Even if things can never be the same again. I can’t lose you, I won’t let you go this time. Bring whoever as your plus-one, just not that kid…I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“How are you so sure that you’re not gonna break my heart again?”

Chan says breathlessly and goosebumps automatically bubble up on your skin at his words, “I’m not. Because I know that no matter how many times I stupidly, or impulsively hurt you, you will always stay. And I’ll always be there to gather the broken pieces as if you’ve never felt the pain before.”

A long, muffled silence occurs between both of you. You quickly look away after a good ten seconds of making eye contact with Chan. He’s having that kind of effect on you like how he used to and you’re determined not to fall again. You’d hate to have your heart broken twice by the same person. “You do know that we wouldn’t have worked out anyway right?”

Chan doesn’t say anything, instead, he turns around and calls a ride for you. His eyes look stormy that night, impossible to read as if there are so many things on his mind at the same time to the point that his head becomes cloudy and nothing makes sense anymore. He doesn’t even wave you goodbye when you get inside the car but his gaze never leaves your figure until it’s completely gone in the distance.

You know that it’s something more than just love because your feelings for Chan are still there even when he’s not. You’re just far too busy being depressed inside your bedroom, under your fuzzy blanket to notice them. Now they’re back, again, for the third time, much, much stronger and more powerful. You don’t know whether this is hazing because falling for someone more than twice just sounds unhealthy for you, a person who lives off donuts for two weeks straight because you need the push of the sugar crush in order to avoid caffeine. Chan just stepped into your life like how he did about three hundred and sixty-five days ago and completely broke down the fort you were trying to build.

Call you an idiot, but is it bad to think that he’s not planning on leaving any time soon?

eight. You hate cruises for plenty of reasons, and one of them being, not surprisingly, a cruise is basically a hotel on water. The concept of a hotel floating on the water makes it a trillion times cooler and unnecessarily overrated. In your defense, having a massage or partying ‘til dawn while not knowing when you’re gonna drown to your imminent death is petrifying. Maybe you’re just bitter about the fact that people don’t appreciate normal hotels enough, because they really don’t.

Okay, if you have to choose one thing not to hate on a cruise, then it’s probably the mini theatre that Chan personally demanded for his chaotic group of friends. Hey, privileged people need some wholesome, chill times with friends too.

But the fact that almost everyone has already seen Stranger Things makes you feel more like a grandma than you already are. These are the times where you rarely choose to sit next to Jisung because you’re both on the same boat for once. Other times, you’re just bickering like the reincarnations of every movie where the main characters constantly want to put the other’s head on a chopping block but end up falling in love anyway; except, you will never fall in love with Jisung. That’s so creepy on so many levels.

Creepier than whatever the fuck of a demonic image that Hyunjin’s about to show you, being the pest that he is. “We have four votes for Stranger Things and four votes for Spider-Man: Far from home,” he announces in that irritating voice of his while hogging the whole bowl of popcorn to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, Han? Choose wisely, my friend,”

Jisung sips on his Coke and points his index finger at his roommate as if he’s accusing Hyunjin of murdering someone, “I’m with Y/N, because screw you,” he’s not entirely wrong because, without a doubt, Jisung’s soul is gonna detach itself from his body after the first episode. “And if Chan were here, he’d agree with me,”

“Nope,” Chan conveniently steps in when you’re about to do a fist bump with Jisung, taking the seat on your right despite plenty of other (about twenty-six) empty seats. “We’re watching Stranger Things, it’s been almost thirty minutes and all you guys have been doing is aiming at each other’s throat,” he whips out a small remote from his pocket and clicks the ‘play’ button without anyone’s consent. He has no right to do that! You don’t think you’ll ever forgive him after this.

Chill time isn’t so wholesome anymore.

So basically the whole plot is about a boy going missing, flipping a whole town from Indiana upside down. Everyone spends days and nights, desperately trying to find him until one day, a little girl with a shaved head comes into the story and makes the entirety of the movie that much weirder. And more horror-worthy when she’s being chased by ‘bad guys’. This is another reason why you hate Chan: he can’t be bothered about what he’s watching because he’s only here for good food. And probably your suffering. But mostly just good food.

Actually, it might be the other one because you can clearly see that stupid grin on his face when you pull your hood low enough to cover half of your eyes so that you won’t be potentially haunted at night by whatever’s ready to pop on screen. And Jisung’s already clinging onto one of your arms like his life depends on it, legs quivering in his boots. You really don’t wanna accidentally elbow him in the face when there’s an inevitable jump scare.

“Chan, you sadist, I hope you’re happy for doing this to me,” you sneer at him with gritted teeth, frustrated about the fact that you can’t singlehandedly feed him to the sharks.

Chan leans in slyly, lips dangerously close to your ear. “That’s for you ogling Tom Holland,”

Jisung automatically gasps scandalously, once again opening that useless mouth of his and decides to put you on trial. “A compromise was almost made, Y/N you monster!” (Actually no, he’d never survive law school). Jisung wiggles himself out of his seat faster than a lightning bolt and snuggles closely next to Woojin, who’s staring at the screen like someone’s forcing him to watch one of the worst pantomimes to ever exist. Great, now you’re stuck with Chan in the very front seat, having no choice to hold onto him like he’s your last option before falling into your impending misery in the next sixty minutes.

This asshole is really—

The moment you’re ready to pour a paper cup full of Sprite over his head, Jisung and Hyunjin just happen to whimper and yelp at the same time, with the same amount of awfully loud volume, spilling their own endless string of curse words with the same length while holding onto whoever’s lucky enough to sit next to them. So naturally, you stupidly let your guard down and cower like a child watching Snow White for the very first time and being absolutely terrified of the ugly witch. You’re far too busy thinking of ways to bury Hyunjin alive to realize that you’ve unknowingly pulled yourself closer to Chan and hid your face in his chest.

“Hwang Hyunjin you fucking moron!” Jisung yells at the top of his lungs when another demonic scene occurs, sending actual chills down his spine. He almost misses the feeling of still having a vendetta with his friend back in the good old high school days when they’re still wrestling each other every two minutes. Also, you’ve never felt this bad for Jisung (or even related to him) in a fairly long time, because… same.

Hyunjin can officially kiss your Jeep goodbye because you’ll never let him borrow it again. That idiot.

“You’re such a baby,” Chan comments and purposely cuts off your trains of thoughts so that you can peel yourself off him and look straight into the screen again, at the wrong time.

“I’m not your baby—“

You hiss in panic and throw yourself onto him again, trying to calm yourself by listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and persistent pace of breathing. You’re already mentally apologizing to Jennie because you’re 75% sure that she’s not gonna be able to sleep with you sticking to her side like a jellyfish. There was this one time you all watched The Conjuring because Jisoo insisted so much and except for her and Lisa, no one got a wink of sleep that night so you’re not sure how you’re gonna survive this when there’s no pillow or blanket to protect you from all of the horrifying sound effects and imageries.

Chan secretly bumps his fist with Jeongin in the back, who’s a little bit too occupied with Hyunjin crushing his bones every two seconds. The perks of hitting on a friend’s sister. Works like a charm, he smirks internally. “Little Y/N is scared, how precious,” he looks down at you, and a smile blooms on his lips, enjoying the blissful feeling of having you in his embrace again.

“I am not scared!” You still can’t learn to accept that sometimes, admitting to your defeat is better for your own good.

“Then why won’t you look at the screen then?”

“Because- oh my God, what the hell was that?!”

“It’s okay to admit that you’re scared, I can protect you,” Chan boasts with his chin high up. And you’d love to blush at his affectionate words right now, really. Only if he didn’t quickly jump into conclusion because of your crush on Tom Holland and chose the movie in the span of a split second.

“Christopher, this isn’t funny!”

“Well, I certainly didn’t try to insult you in any means at all, ma’am. I don’t see what’s the problem here,” he singsongs, gently draping an arm around your shoulders. This time, he’s glad that you didn’t end up punching him in the gut.

“Shut the fuck— Jesus Christ!” You screech when the demonic image keeps flashing in your mind, driving your head around in circles. “Chan, I swear to God, you’ll regret—“ you don’t even bother to finish your sentence and have no choice to hold onto him like he’s your only source of life, without him, you’ll soon disintegrate into fine dust and slip away easily. If Lisa was here, she would record the whole thing and play it on the slideshow of videos that she’s been preparing for your upcoming birthday. Thank God she’s playing beer pong with BamBam somewhere on the second floor.

That sounds so melodramatic but it’s not necessarily wrong. Chan still has that same sense of comfort whenever your skin comes in contact with his, even when it’s a thin layer of fabric away, you can still feel how badly it burns like a reminder for you that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. Nothing’s going to change that, your intuition has told you before but you elect to ignore it. You’re starting to realize that you let Chan into your life again just like that, let him tear down your walls, and lit your heart on fire.

But what you don’t know is that his heart is still beating vigorously in his chest cavity for you, after all this time. His one and only.

“Hey, hey,” he tells you softly.

“What? Don’t make me look, I don’t wanna see it, I don’t wanna hear it either, I’m scared okay just don’t—”

“No, Y/N, look at me,” Chan chuckles and takes your face in his hands, forcing you to stare into his starry eyes. All you can see is an entire cosmos, more wondrous and beautiful than everything you’ve ever seen. He shines like he owns the entire universe in his existence, glowing from within and leaves you utterly speechless. Your head starts to become fuzzy and your heart dips when you realize how terribly close you are to him.

Chan takes your head and gently places it on the left side of his chest, smiling. “Can you hear that? It’s your fault, yeah, you did that to me,” The calm rhythm of his heart cancels everything out; all you can see is him, and all you can hear is his heartbeat. You spend approximately one second debating whether you should kiss him and you hate every moment of that one single second, you dread every nanosecond of it.

“Are you still afraid?” He whispers and you shake your head almost immediately without replying with what’s in your head. Like no shit, you’re more than just petrified right now, this is by far, one of the scariest, most frightening, and most nerve-racking decisions you’ve ever made in your life.

At that moment, it feels as if you’re standing on the edge of a cliff with him by your side. And you do exactly what he’s asking you to because it’s the only thing that you can do.

You jump.

nine. Weirdly enough, you miss college.

You miss those days where you had to finish the entirety of your morning routine in a span of five minutes so that you could be out the door and not miss the bus. You miss those moments where you had to skip two steps at a time on the longass flight of stairs just so your professor wouldn’t have another excuse to yell at you other than the overdue assignments.

You also miss college parties, not because they’re ‘lit’ but because things were simpler back then. People come, drink, get wasted, fight someone (or make out with someone), and then go home. Actually, no, they usually make out first thing first in the front porch because college students don’t give two fucks about their dignity and decency. You definitely didn’t miss that. And also those times where you ogled Chan during lunch breaks or when you both took the usual 4419 to college on a daily basis.

Everything gets a little more nostalgic when Minho slides your usual mojito across the counter and gives you that cat-like smile of his. Somehow, it makes you wanna hug him and bite his head off at the same time but you’re not wasted enough for that yet. You just need to get your mind off Chan when he’s too busy being tormented by his own family.

“Zero sips and you’re already dreaming about Chan? Gee, if I’m not mistaken then you’re so in love with him, manager Lee,” Minho is in his element, surrounded by good music and alcohol. In which, there’s no point in arguing with him anyway because you’re basically vulnerable and defenseless when everywhere you go, you see Chan’s face.

You down half of the mojito in one go and the bartender in front of you almost staggers backward from utter shock. Normally, you’d be snapping back at him with a witty retort instead of being all sappy and dreamy like this. This is not good. “My my, you’re really thinking about him, aren’t you? So tell me, how does that feel? To be deeply in love with another human being,” he leans forward to approach you, propping his head up with his hands. You murmur a small “bullshit” and proceed to toss your head back for a bit, shaking the weariness away.

“Listen, I might be heartless and all but when I accidentally put Tabasco into Jisung’s orange juice instead of honey the other day, I did actually feel bad about it. I felt a rush of empathy for a split second there,” Minho muses when he sees the corners of your lips curl upwards, stretching into a small grin. “It was wild, and then I just thought; is this what it feels like…to be a decent human being? Edgy, I know.”

You laugh dryly with boredom glinting in your eyes. “You know, if you’re going to distract me from thinking about Chan, at least be good at it,” his mouth drops open at your statement, completely gobsmacked. Oh, how the tables have turned. He’s never felt so defeated and useless before. Usually, he’s the one who makes others speechless. It’s not hard to tell that he hates it when everything just flips upside down.

“Bitch please,” Minho says with puckered lips. “Even if I spiked your drink, you’d still repeat his name in your dream like a mantra because you’re so fucking whipped for him,” he stops for a while to train his undivided attention on the Tequila Sunrise for Jisung who’s already smashed after two beers. He can really use some counseling, Minho ponders. “And you wouldn’t kiss Chan back if you hated him, gotta love stupid feelings that you can’t even explain for yourself, am I right?”

You take another sip of your drink and exhale, staring into his sharp eyes. “Excuse me, who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Lee Minho, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor,” he holds back the urge to slap you across the face with Felix’s Gucci slippers and instead, musters the sweetest smile. Being a bartender and a potential alcoholic at the same time definitely doesn’t help because he wishes he could just chug a whole bottle of vodka before you complain to him about your miserable love life. “I believe I’m qualified enough to give you some solid advice. So shut up and listen to me—“

“—I’m trying! But Minho, what if I’m the delusional one? What if he just wanted a fresh start so that we wouldn’t be so awkward towards each other? A kiss can’t possibly mean something. I mean, if you consider our New Year’s kiss, it meant so much to me but I don’t know if—“

And now, Lee Minho, self-proclaimed, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor; doesn’t have the slightest earthly idea of what the hell he should do. God, serious relationships are so fucking complicated to the point that his brain is yelling for retirement. Usually, he just poisons his friends with a dose of some common sense and solid logic to knock them back to reality in order to figure out whatever they’re going through. But this time, he thinks he should just let you fall further and further until Chan catches you instead.

Now that he’s thinking about it. Chan definitely didn’t pay him enough to be the bartender and a personal therapist for the love of his life.

“Seems like you’re not enjoying the party,” you instantly turn around because you can realize the owner of the voice in the matter of a split second. The moment Chan’s eyes are locked with yours, your heart immediately jumps up to your throat and then drops back down to your chest. If only this was because of the mojito, you’d feel better about it somehow but unfortunately, Minho gave you a non-alcoholic one today.

You can tell that he’s already hammered by the smell of alcohol when his warm breath brushes over your nose and how his cheeks are redder than usual. Minho quickly excuses himself from the scene to save himself from witnessing a mediocre, drunk confession session. And also because people are starting to pour in by the second, so the bar will probably be overpopulated in the next ten minutes or so. It’s downright a college party again except for the fact that everyone is floating on water but still, alcohol-thirsty pigs are still pigs. Everyone’s sloppy and lightheaded to the point that you’re already hearing the janitors crying themselves to sleep tonight.

“I’m enjoying it more than you if you couldn’t tell already,” your face morphs into a frown when Chan giggles and stumbles around like a madman. He would have facepalmed himself onto the marble counter with various bottles that probably cost more than one of his cars combined and made a scene if it weren’t for your hands steadying the blades of his shoulders. The warmth of your fingers radiate through his denim jacket and sinks into his skin, making his head a little fuzzy while you’re wondering how the fuck did he get this batshit drunk when Minho was with you the whole time.

“What the hell did you have?”

“I don’t know, BamBam asked me to try out some of his new cocktail recipes,” Chan hiccups and allows you to fling one of his arms over your shoulders. “Guess I didn’t consider dinner with my family afterward. Mom said I should just get some rest but I was thinking of you, so voila, I’m here now,” he gives you that signature boyish grin of his that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. But this time, your frown just grows deeper because since when did BamBam know how to make cocktails? And almost knocked Chan out too? You know why you should just stick to Minho’s mojito now.

Your eyes widen in panic as Chan almost trips over your foot when Hyunjin accidentally bumps into his back. “Oh Y/N, I’ve been looking for you,” the younger boy tells you with a Margarita in his hand, curiosity laced in his eyes. “No, scratch that, actually, some guy called Jaemin is looking for you,” Hyunjin then leans closer to a very-shocked-looking you and tries to shout over the loud music. “Who is that guy anyway? I heard rumors going around that he’s the Senator’s son or—“

Even though Chan’s not very sober at the moment and all he can hear is “some guy” and “the Senator’s son”, he knows that he needs to get you out of here as soon as possible. That bastard, Chan thought he’s already eliminated him from the guest list. Without a second thought, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you away from Hyunjin although he’s not the real threat here, piloting you through the sweaty bodies grinding against each other to the EDM music in the background. He was gonna take up the DJ duty tonight but really…is he gonna let you have another encounter with Na Jaemin? Yeah, he thought so too.

Before you can even register the whole situation, Chan’s already backed you up against a wall in his bedroom, a hand over your mouth with the other on the small of your back. Time seems to stop when you see the golden flecks in his eyes, floating softly in his nebula, and you’re absolutely, definitely, totally falling for him all over again. He’s so incredibly beautiful it leaves you moonstruck, wondering how can God be so unfair to make Chan look better than you even when he’s wasted.

Everything starts moving once again when a series of “have you seen Y/N?” echoes through the hallway and you can physically feel Chan tighten his grip on your body, jaw clenching too much that it might hurt. You know that voice all too well; Na Jaemin is here. And he’s looking for you. But you can care less right now because your heart automatically does a flip when Chan makes direct eye contact with you, his index finger hovering over his lips.

“Y/N, I need to tell–“

But this is not the time to fawn over how good he looks, you tell yourself with such determination.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you help Chan walk over to his king-size bed, his limbs wobbly and unstable. After a solid minute of struggling and panting, you finally have Chan laying on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. While you’re too busy unfolding his blanket, he’s murmuring gibberish that you can’t quite, choosing to ignore it like how you’ve ignored Woojin snoring at two in the morning during a camping trip. “Chan,” you shake his shoulders slightly. “You’re gonna fall flat on your face if you sleep like this,”

You hiss through gritted teeth helplessly. “Chan!” But he doesn’t even move a single muscle. “You idiot, why did you agree to drink all of those cocktails?” You’re going to rip BamBam’s head off of his neck next time with your bare hands, it’s on. “Chan!” Your last attempt of waking him up fails miserably when he scrunches his nose a little, then proceeds to move on with his slumber.

Yeah, he’s definitely gone.

Or not.

Just when you’re about to give up and leave him as he is, Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you flush against his chest, heart thundering more vigorously than ever. He easily rolls the both of you to the side with no effort, only to get a better grip of your waist, his breath tickling your nose. At the suddenly close proximity, you can take a closer look at his long lashes that framed his eyes perfectly, his tall nose and his plump lips. Chan looks so ethereal and otherworldly that you wonder what it feels like to run your hands through his hair, dance your fingers against his jawline and press your lips against his.

But you also notice the bags under his eyes and how his brows are slightly knitted together. He doesn’t seem to be doing a great job at taking care of himself after all and it makes your heartache knowing that he didn’t have any other choice. It’s no one’s fault, really, though, in scenarios like this, people would love to point fingers and make assumptions out of something that they don’t even know. Falling in love with Chan for the third time can be the best thing that’s ever happened to you or it will eventually push you off a cliff, straight into a downward spiral.

Whatever the consequences are, you’d never trade him for anything in this world. Even if it means getting your heart broken all over again. You’re willing to walk through fire and step on thorns just to be by his side again. But at the same time, you’re not sure if he feels the same because if not, you’ll be left with nothing. Maybe he’ll forget all of this in the morning. Maybe it’s never meant to happen anyway.

Chan suddenly pulls you in more and his lips are terribly close to your flesh, your eyes going wide in panic. Moments later, soft snores escape his mouth as his chest heaves up and down in a calm rhythm. It reminds you of when he hugs you in the theatre, embarrassment soon flares through your nostrils and sprinkle a shade of coral on the apples of your cheeks. You can’t help but smile, arms snaking around his firm waistline.

Chan hugs you so tightly that you blindly believe that he needs you. As if it’s his way of saying “stay, it makes me feel at ease that you’re right here, in my arms again”. No one has ever really needed you. As sad as it sounds, your family can still move on with life just fine even when you’re not there. Your friends have their own jobs and other relationships as well, they don’t actually need you. You’ve never felt anything quite like this before, it’s a little bit frightening but also a little bit tempting.

Yep, you think to yourself. I’m done for.

Goddamnit BamBam.

ten. Chan groans loudly when the early daylight hits him like a truck, knocking him out of his semi-unconscious state. Hangovers still hit him hard, but this time, shit hurts way worse because someone still has a lot to learn as a mixologist. He smells like alcohol, probably looks like trash, and his head is fuzzy yet [insert culprit’s name] is standing right in front of him, all dressed up like he’s about to do a drug transaction.

“Bro,” he narrows his eyes to do a full scan of the bedroom, plopping himself back down only to realize that you’re not here. “You fucking suck at making cocktails,”

BamBam only chuckles humorlessly at that, five of his drinks didn’t even put a dent on Changbin yet the infamous Bang Chan wasn’t able to stay sober to not have a girl carry him to his bedroom. “Drink,” he gives the glass of water in his hand a light thrust before handing Chan a tablet of aspirin with the other. He’s also decided that it’s a lovely Sunday morning and he doesn’t have time for this shit. He should be chomping on breakfast in bed with something on the TV right now. But, he can’t risk having Chan roam the cruise looking all homeless and insane.

“I can’t believe not only did you let Y/N into your room, slept in the same bed as her,” Chan chokes on the big gulp of water that he’s just taken, and everything from last night starts pouring back to him like an unwanted nightmare. He was far too drunk to even remember every detail, he just prays to whatever gods up there that he didn’t say anything stupid. “Yet you didn’t even confess, great fucking job.” BamBam asserts like the true friend that he is, accidentally pushing Chan closer to his imminent misery.

Chan snaps his head up and almost screams aloud that his heart’s about to jump out of his chest, “You wanted me to what?!”

“You heard me,” BamBam tongues the inside of his cheeks in annoyance, regretting the amount of money that he spent to tip one of the cruise’s staff so that he could sneak his own alcohol in safely. “You know what that means? That means you still didn’t shoot your shot! You did not shoot your shot! Which entails? You’re gonna be lonely for the rest of your life and eventually die alone. You’re gonna die alone! You hear me?”

Chan thinks it’s way too early for him to endure BamBam repeating himself over and over again like a crazy person. He might still be slightly hammered because all he’s hearing is “shoot your shot” and “die alone”, he’s confused because why in the world is his best friend making him choose between killing someone and dying alone? Wait, no, actually….he might mean something else. Chan’s just in denial.

“Where is she?” He rasps out tiredly after taking the pill and downs the whole glass of water.

“Lisa carried her back to Jennie’s room in the middle of the night,” BamBam informs his friend, watching how his eyes are starting to turn stormy, and then he exhales out of relief. “She almost murdered me! This is all your fault!” He cries out dramatically before belly-flopping himself onto Chan’s bed, metaphoric tears dripping down on his cheek.

Chan perks an eyebrow as if BamBam just offended him, as if he’s mental and just made it out of an insane asylum. “My fault?” He questions, his voice getting louder and louder at the end. “Whose idea was it to poison me with your questionable drinks? Whose idea was it to make me all batshit drunk? Whose idea was it to let me into the party so that I could find the only thing that I’ve been trying to avoid all night? It was your fault, okay?! It-was-your-fault!” He deadpans and soon realizes that now he’s the one who’s repeating himself.

BamBam is more than confused right now because didn’t Chan want this after all? To confess to you once again and get you back? All he was trying to do is basically give his friend a teeny tiny sprinkle of motivation and this is how he repays him? Now he looks like an idiot who has been trying to sabotage the relationship between the two protagonists of another horrible rom-com. Jackson was right, he should have just played ping pong in peace and not stick his nose into other people’s business.

“Look,” he places a hand on Chan’s shoulder as he sighs deeply into the palms of his hands, mentally debating how the fuck can he make it up to you now. “She could have just refused your invitation of stepping onto this cruise. She could have pushed you away when you tried to kiss her,” BamBam stops midway to suppress his laughter at how Chan’s cheeks are taking no time to turn into a brighter shade of pink. “And, she could have left you alone and drunk at the bar, and- I don’t know, hang out with Na Jaemin or something.”

When a muffled silence descends in between the current civil conversation, only a confused look crosses Chan’s features and all BamBam wants to do right now is to put his head through a goddamn wall. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he murmurs to himself. “Minho’s right. You both are so dumb it’s physically hurting me.” Not exactly the most comforting words to tell a person in crisis but things hitting hard like this actually helps Chan a lot more than how people usually sugarcoat their words.

“Listen, it’s not like there’s no more fish in the sea but have you ever met someone who instantly clicked and just simply fell for you? She didn’t know that you had money, she didn’t know anything about your family. She could care less about your social background too honestly, because she fell for who you truly are,” BamBam hates to be cliché, really, but it is what it is. “Y/N has never gone a day without checking your notifications, she was so broken when you suddenly just shut her out like that. And yes, you were an asshole for doing that but can’t you see how hesitant she was every time you’re trying to get closer?”

Chan looks up at his friend, his tense muscles finally relaxing. “Which isn’t the point…”

“Which isn’t the point,” BamBam tells him, looking more serious than ever and it’s freaking him out. “Because what I’m trying to say is, it’s still not too late to shoot your shot.”

eleven. Maybe you deserve someone else, but deep down, you’ve always wanted Chan. And in your heart, you know that it’s right because humans only want the love they thought they deserved. You think part of the reason why you can never seem to let go of him is you’re just scared that something so amazing won’t happen twice. People might call you out for dwelling on the past but you call it a coping mechanism.

Magically, you’re starting to get used to the frequent encounters with Chan and Eunji since they’re also apparently part of the Privileged. You really should give yourself a pat on your shoulder for not having a mental breakdown whenever you see them hand in hand in public. The forced smile on Chan’s face always gives you the tiniest strand of hope that he’s just putting on a show as demand from his family. But at the same time, you’re scared that you’re just being delusional and you’d never have anything to do with his life from now on. Perhaps he wanted a fresh start so that everything can be like how they used to back in college? He didn’t want to “lose you again” because he still wanted to be friends?

But every time he tried to sneak a glance towards your direction and smiled, all you could think was: “Oh, shit,”

You knew that you fell for him twice, and you’re still falling. Every. Single. Day.

“Like what you see?” Changbin brags on the other side of the curtain, followed by a string of gagging noises by Jisung. And you secretly want to take a picture of his face, for science, obviously. But by that, you mean to blackmail him whenever wherever you want because he’d rather not have his fans gushing over him looking like a dying donkey, inside a fifteen thousand dollars suite on a cruise.

“You look like an idiot.”

Jisung voices with pure disgust in his tone. “Who the fuck lend you a white tuxedo?” Needless to say, you try to picture Changbin wearing a white suit and you immediately scrunch your nose up, shaking your head profusely. Changbin looks especially good in dark colors, but you’re not saying that he wouldn’t look good in brighter tones, it just feels weird not seeing him in a black tux, even when it’s just for a small party.

“My sister! If anything she’s an idiot,” he’s probably throwing his hands up in frustration. “She said I should switch things up. And I trusted her, now I feel like an idiot.”

Jisung asserts like a snake, “You look like you have a stick up in your ass, it’s so high up I can literally see it whenever you’re opening your mouth.” He’s probably man-spreading on the blue velvet couch, playing with the glass of bubbly champagne that he’s specifically requested. You don’t get why he would want to drink when he’s waiting for his friends in the dressing room but he will, just because he can.

“Ew,” he spats not long after. You’re not sure if he’s referring to the drink or Changbin’s outfit. It might be the drink, it’s shit but it gets the job done. It’s more about the concept of looking elegant and fancy more than the concept of getting wasted, in order to not look like a corrupted person. “Why would you godsend privileged, snoshy, live-and-breathe-in-money people deadass drink this instead of a nice Tequila?” Yep, not surprising.

Changbin protests, clearly annoyed. “Because we can afford that shit, just like how there’s a random, money dripping guitar in the dressing room,” you don’t even have to peek to know that he’s rolling his eyes to the point that they’re gonna fly out of their sockets. “But at the same time…true, I don’t like it either. That’s why I never get wasted whenever I go to parties like these, man, I miss college parties,”

God, this zipper is driving me nuts, you mentally curse when it gets stuck halfway and your arms are already giving up on you. Where’s Jennie when you’re in desperate need of her help?

“Whatever, let’s go find your sister and get you in a new tux,” you can hear Jisung pushes himself off the couch and settles his champagne down on the coffee table. “No offense towards her…I just fucking hate it on you,”

“Wait, guys—“ the moment you try to call out to them, they basically shut the door of the dressing room. “Well, shit,” you sigh, quickly realizing that 1) you don’t have your phone with you; 2) you can’t just run outside to grab it because what if Changbin and Jisung get back here at an untimely moment; and 3) there’s no way in hell you’re gonna ask one of them to zip it up for you. Now you’re forced to stay in a confined space with your only protection aka the red velvet curtain that looks way too cliché for your liking. Seriously, isn’t Jennie supposed to be here with you? It was her idea to put you in another dress, which you hate with a passion but you can never have the heart to tell her that.

The door swings open again and you exhale out of surprise, “Thank God, Jen. You’re here. Can you help me with my zipper? It’s stuck, and my hands gave up on me,” you immediately turn around, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Do you think Chan’s gonna hate seeing me in a dress again? I mean, I did call him an asshole when I wasn’t wearing one,” you stop to take in a breath, completely oblivious about the fact that it wasn’t Jennie who opened the door. “…but I was kinda acting like a bitch when I was wearing one too. I was so furious knowing that he’s seeing someone else behind my back that I wanted to bite his head off. And now I’m stuck here with him, his family, and that chick, in a hotel, on water, floating spontaneously somewhere near Singapore.”

Wordlessly, a pair of hands push the curtains aside to tug onto your zipper, slowly adjusting it and careful not to break it at the same time. Once your dress is zipped up all the way, you’re ready to turn your head and thank your friend. “Stay still, I’m not done yet,” your face automatically burns darkly when you come to a realization that it’s definitely not Jennie, most definitely not Jennie. In fact, it’s the person you’ve been planning on avoiding all night. Before you can decide when to make a run for it and save yourself from the imminent embarrassment, a silver necklace is draped around your neck, a diamond-studded buttery resting nicely right below your collarbones.

“Beautiful,” he says again in that honey-dripping voice of his. “You should wear dresses more,”

“Chan! You just scared the living daylights out of me,” you whisper harshly, turning on your heels and shove his chest. You definitely didn’t know what you were signing up for because it’s a grave mistake for you to accidentally look into his captivating eyes and you can see an entire universe in them. Absolutely magnificent. He looks impeccably good in his bejeweled black suit jacket, black turtleneck, and a silver chain around his neck, matching pieces of jewelry adorning his ears.

Chan wiggles his brows like the self-indulging person that he is, straightening his lapel dramatically. “Hmm, I don’t know if you can smell that, but it reeks of jealousy in here, and also hatred, but mostly jealousy.”

“Can. You. Zip. It. And. Call. It. A. Day.” With every word, you repeatedly slap his chest, but only to see him breaking into a fit of giggles in return. You almost forgot that he works out, whereas, you literally have zero ounces of muscles on your body. What a disgrace to your family. Like come on, even Felix has abs, and he never turns down Tacos Tuesday whenever he has dance practice with Hyunjin because their studio is conveniently situated right next to the best Mexican restaurant.

And the guacamole there? Phenomenal.

Chan teases, “I thought girls like you should be taught to act like a lady, not hitting the innocents.”

“Stop being a baby, Bang, it’s not like I’m gonna leave you with a bruise or two.”

Ah yes, this reminds Chan of the good old days of college where you’re both in that weird phase where you’re too much of a scaredy-cat not to talk to him on a last name basis because Changbin was an idiot for constantly leaving you two alone in the music room. “Why?” His lips curl up into a grin. “Because you can’t even open a jar of spaghetti sauce by yourself?”

That’s…that’s just a harsh truth. And now you feel like Regina George getting hit by a bus because life’s willing to give you a piece of its mind. You’re weak as fuck.

“It’s not fair when Felix has a six packs while eating tacos every other week, and I’m here looking like this with a green smoothie for breakfast every day,” you mumble bitterly, already too tired to argue with Chan because the party’s starting in half an hour. “I swear he’s on drugs, he always puts something into his daily Americano.”

Chan laughs breathlessly and cups your face with his hands, squishing your cheeks together. “I’m pretty sure it’s just stevia since Lix has a sweet tooth. On the bright side, I think you look just fine like how you are right now. I like you just the way you are. No modification is needed.” The audacity.

Your nostrils flare with heat, and your cheeks feel hot against Chan’s cool fingers. Again, Chan looks really good tonight and you’re not sure how much longer your heart can hold up before you pass out in his arms. “Uhm, so, just to make it clear,” you fiddle with your fingers nervously. “You and I-“

“Hey guys, how are things going—” Jennie pops her head into the dressing room and looks around, seeing no signs of Changbin or Jisung whatsoever. “What did I miss?” She looks at you cluelessly, then her lips automatically spread into a shit-eating grin when she sees how Chan’s cupping your cheeks. Just when you thought you can’t possibly blush any more darkly.

You awkwardly pull away when Chan clears his throat, retrieving his hands from your face. “Jen, just get out, I swear it’s nothing.” Yeah, as if Jennie aka the person who proclaims to be an expert at love because she’s snuck way too many boys into her closet, is gonna believe your pathetic attempt at an explanation.

“Oh, I’ll get out,” Jennie throws you a wink and you can see how Chan’s shuddering slightly at the dangerous glint in her eyes. “Now, don’t get too freaky in here okay kids, walls are pretty thin,” she asserts unhelpfully like the true friend that she is before shutting the door close. When you’re about to blurt out as many apologies as you can muster to Chan, a soft ‘click’ echoes through your eardrums. Your eyes grow alarmed almost immediately and so do Chan’s.

Did she just lock you inside the dressing room with Chan and expect something to happen? Kim. Fucking. Jennie.

“I hate you, and Jennie,” you tell Chan, not even bothering to hit him this time.

You’d rather take a nap on that couch over there than go out and party honestly. Parties only consist of two things most of the time: drinking and talking. But getting wasted is not an option tonight because you’re not about to spill rosé on the dress that Jennie adores the most. Although you do hate her ass right now.

And people don’t even hold proper conversations during parties unless they know each other, there are only small talks which are so….ugh. You don’t understand the purpose, the meaning of speaking to someone with a maximum of three sentences. You need a real, authentic, civil conversation about a specific topic that’s worth one’s time. Not just “how are you liking the party?” and “yeah, it’s dope, you?” or other gibberish nonsense.

Sometimes you feel bad for those people because their lives are staler than those crumbs of bread that pigeons feed off.

Chan tips his head back and releases the most obnoxiously loud series of laughter that you have to hold back the urge to kick him off the cruise. “You know you love me,”

“I don’t.”

“If you don’t then why would you dash through the airport like a madwoman just to hug me and tell me those three magic words?”

“Too bad, my brain just refused to recall that memory.”

He grabs your chin and angles it so that you’re directly looking into his eyes, dimpled smile, and all. “Then do I need to interfere and remind you?”

You don’t think you’re gonna make it through tonight if Chan keeps making your chest swell like this.

twelve. You and Chan have decided to change into more casual outfits and ditch the formal ones to strip the awkwardness and tension to a bare minimum. And by ditching, you mean hanging them up nicely so that Jennie won’t strangle you later. It is her dress after all. But you have every right to burn it since it was her idea to lock you up with Chan in a dressing room. Thank God it’s almost the size of her closet. Now, you’re both laying flat on your backs on the navy fuzzy carpet before the white couch, already moved the tiny coffee table away so that you won’t accidentally knock something that costs a fortune over. Kind of insanitary too but you can’t care less.

“Are you hungry?” Chan turns his head and asks you, warm brown eyes twinkling under the dimmed light.

“No,” you shake your head, and as if on cue, your stomach rumbles involuntarily. As Chan bursts into laughter, you quickly cover up your pink cheeks with the palms of your hands, internally groaning in pure agony. “Yes, I am hungry like a normal human being should because it’s already midnight, sue me.” You confess.

If only some of Ryujin’s leftovers were here. This is exactly why you refuse to eat out most of the time. Why bother hiring high-end chefs and having fancy dishes when you’ve already had a roommate who’s born into cooking? God, you miss her spaghetti.

Chan props his head onto one of his arms and looks down at you, a glint of mischief evident in his orbs. “You know what’s a whole fucking gourmet dish? Me,” he peels your hands away from your face with ease, holding onto them tightly to prevent you from smacking his chest.

You roll your eyes at him in the bitchiest way possible, yanking your hands away from his because every touch burns like fire and you’re not letting yourself be vulnerable tonight. If you still remembered some of the moves from the martial art classes that mom forced you into when you were in middle school, Chan wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance. You almost snap someone’s arm in half back then, but those days are long gone.

“You? Please, you’re like those piles of unwanted leftover vegetables that everyone keeps giving away to their most annoying relatives,” you start talking big with no intention of meaning it.

Chan’s not just a single dish, he’s an entire buffet. You could never imagine how it felt like for him to have thousands of letters and notes pouring out from his personal locker when he’s wrapping up for the day. Yeah, a total heartthrob. That’s why all of the dumb bitches on campus would always circle around him during breaks, no matter where he went. You were one of them too, you’re also a dumb bitch. Except, you didn’t need to stalk him, Changbin did all the work for you: inviting you to sit with them during lunch breaks, letting you ride the 4419 home alone with Chan, consistently hinting at Chan about your stupid feelings for him every two seconds,… In all honesty, you should be thanking him but you also want to throw him into a tank full of sharks.

Chan gasps, like audibly gasps as if you’re throwing shade at him, which you totally are. “You’re such an absurd, unreasonable, incongruous, preposterous-“ he pauses midway because he’s already running out of big words for ‘ridiculous’ to call you out on; it takes guts and Oscar-worthy acting to insult his godly appearance and impeccable visual, it really does. “—whatever, doesn’t matter. I know that you’re lying,” he singsongs before pushing himself off the carpet, stretching his limbs tiredly.

You think it’s almost two hours since you’re laying in a single spot, and you’re not risking having any parts of your body paralyzed so you get up, proceeding to do the same thing. “I can’t believe you didn’t have your phone with you,” you throw your hands up in exasperation, careful not to chip one of your nails. Lisa didn’t spend an hour on them for nothing. “And no one is even looking for us! Literally no one!” You can’t exactly blame your chaotic group of friends because they’ve probably fallen asleep since formal parties like these are so damn boring but Chan’s parents not freaking out about their missing son? And his “fiancé” too? That’s oddly concerning.

“You don’t have your phone with you either,” he snickers, hands reaching for the random acoustic guitar in the corner of the room. “I doubt that Lisa or Jisoo’s gonna get us out of here, I don’t even have faith in the two other parts of 3RACHA anymore.”

“What about your fiancé?” You ask him out of the blue, completely ignoring the sudden pang in your chest.

Chan shrugs nonchalantly, strumming some random chords with the instrument. “I broke it off with her, in front of my parents.”

“Cool then-“ you almost choke on your own saliva, “—hold up, did I just mishear you? Did you dump her?! In front of your parents?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” You heave, feeling your heart rate increasing by the nanosecond. Not only did Chan break down the walls you’ve been trying to build, he utterly eliminated the invisible barrier between your life and him (sorry Jaemin), and he knocked down the only obstacle left that’s in his way. Now, imagine two dots with a single line to connect them both. Everything’s as simple as that but your brain is already fried from coming up with one hundred and one ways to move in the slowest way possible.

Chan keeps strumming the guitar in his arms but purses his lips at your particular way of responding to his previous statement. “You know, a ‘thank you’ would be nice. And no, they didn’t disown me. I was like ‘fuck it’, and I told them everything. Not everything-everything, but like everything-everything, you feel me?”

No, I don’t fucking feel you but I can physically feel the shame and agony that’s slowly dawning on me you moron, you think to yourself, inhaling and exhaling deeply to prevent yourself from exploding like a ticking bomb.

“What did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything since they were too…uh, taken aback by the amount of information I guess..”

“Chan, I don’t think you were thinking straight—“

He interrupts you with a sad pout, sticking out his bottom lip. “Why are you talking about my parents and not this guitar?” This man is being ridiculous, as stubborn as a child.

“IT’S A GUITAR! RELAX ABOUT IT!”

“I GOT THIS FOR YOU!” Chan raises his voice slightly to catch you off guard and then sighs deeply. “Felix said you hadn’t played the guitar in years, but you were pretty good at it. So I wanted to surprise you, don’t you like it?”

“Chan, you what?” Your voice grows smaller and smaller until it’s only as audible as a whisper. “You didn’t have to do that- of course I like it! But- it’s just..” You stop talking completely to take a closer look at the acoustic guitar in his hands. It’s made of a reddish-brown type of timber with a satin finish, you can tell that the wood will age well through time and create more depth and warmth to the sound of the instrument. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a guitar, but it’s been way too long since you’ve touched one.

“I- I forgot how to play it after a while..”

Chan throws a wolffish wink in your direction as a reassurance that there wouldn’t be a problem with that. “I can show you how to if you like.”

“Moving too fast, moon is lighting up her skin,” Chan cuts you off softly with his angelic voice, and your heart is stuck in your throat, refraining you from barking back with anything. “She’s falling, doesn’t even know it yet. Heart is beating loud but she doesn’t want it to stop.”

Is he seriously trying to do this by singing a song? A fucking One Direction’s song?

“We’re only getting older, baby. And I’ve been thinking about it lately,” Chan’s voice slowly bleeds into the chorus, and you feel as if all of your pride and dignity have been thrown out the window because you’re completely frozen in your spot when he sits down next to you. Chan smiles throughout the lyrics seeing how you’re looking at him like he’s the only person left in the entire Milky Way, a strange warm sensation bubbling up in his stomach. “Does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?”

“Everything that you’ve ever dreamt of, disappearing when you wake up,” Chan’s heart does an entirety of an acrobatic routine when he locks his eyes with yours. Seemingly to keep himself together, but the insides just feel like he’s being hung upside down on a tree with blood rushing to his face. This just has to be the cheesiest, sappiest, not-necessarily-scream-CB97 way to confess to someone but fuck it, he still needs to shoot his shot. “But there’s not to be afraid of. Even when the night changes…”

He pauses for a few seconds, “..it will never change me and you..” and finishes off smoothly, embarrassment growing more evident on his cheeks.

What did you tell yourself months ago, Y/N? Aren’t you tired of trying? How are you so sure that he wouldn’t do it again? Haven’t you had enough?

Yeah, you’d never know. And yes, you’ve had enough.

Well, to hell with that.

That’s when everything clicks in place. After all this time, after everything you’ve been through, after everything he’s done, you can finally see why you’ve been chasing him relentlessly knowing damn well that your heart is still in his hands, one wrong move and you’ll be utterly destroyed forever. Nobody compares to Chan. Nobody makes you smile like he does, nobody makes you laugh like he does and nobody makes you cry as hard as he does. It’s almost a truth that’s universally acknowledged that everything has been leading up to this specific moment, your heartbeat comes in sync, and two completely different worlds collide with each other.

You almost lost yourself all the way to him, but in him, you also found the way back to you. And how do you argue with the algorithm of falling for someone when the entire universe has conspired for the both of you to be together since forever?

“Uhm…so what-“

Before he can even finish his sentence, you abruptly grab a fistful of his hoodie and yank him towards you. Chan physically feels shivers run up his spine when your hand automatically interlocks with his, still fits like a glove. You kiss him with such desperation and tenderness it makes him feel as if you’ve been wandering this celestial sphere by yourself in the past century, yet he’s always had your heart. And he lets himself trust you with his in your hands once again because this is only the beginning. The paths ahead might not always be peaches and cream, but if it’s with you, he’s willing to stick with you ‘till the very end of it.

You’re the first one to break the kiss, managing to talk between short breaths. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Chan shakes his head and laughs breathlessly, wearing a dimpled on his face, “Nothing, I was just wondering if you’d take me back after everything.”

“After everything?” You merely chuckle when tiny bits of confusion in his orbs soon disintegrate into stardust, floating through the galaxy for eons. “A million times over, I will still choose you and let you rip my heart in half if that’s what it takes for me to stay by your side.”

Chan feels like he’s floating in midair, head all fuzzy and moonstruck. “Actually though…can I kiss you again?”

“And then nap time?” You let out a big yawn, making Chan toss his head back, laughing wholeheartedly.

“And then nap time,” he agrees, gingerly pulling you in by the waist while trying to stop himself from picturing the smirk on BamBam’s face when he opens the door in the morning.

Likewise, BamBam indeed opens the door to the dressing room early in the morning to make a move on his cleanup duty before Chan’s parents have a cardiac arrest. His smirks can’t possibly grow any wider when he sees you cuddle closely to Chan, palms resting on his chest while his hands are locked on your waistline. And BamBam sighs in relief because thank goodness he did shoot his shot.

[kpopscenario]

Brown eyes

Pairing: Yunho x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: what started as a normal day at university turned out to be more interesting than expected.

A/N: ice skating

(8:52am)

There were only two lectures on this Friday morning that I had to attend, so not too bad. With my heavy chemistry book under the arm, I walked through the hall and scanned people’s faces as I walked past. For now, I’d attended every single lecture. Firstly, I was scared to miss important information. Secondly, I was actually interested in my subject. I liked the university lifestyle. In school, you couldn’t choose on which subject you wanted to focus, or how you wanted to study. Everything was kind of planned for you, but now I had to handle everything myself, which wasn’t really a bad thing. Since I was an organized person and liked to be prepared, I was pretty confident that the university was something I could manage well. Almost five minutes too early, I sat down in the lecture room and eventually scanned the rows for my new friends.

Although university had started almost two months ago, I hadn’t made more than two friends, and those only because we were sitting together in the library and one asked me for a pencil. They were nice and I was incredibly relieved to have made some friends already. Wasn’t this a fear of every new student at university? To stay alone while everyone would make new connections and bonded with more and more people in those large and intimidating halls? Those at least were my thoughts for the first two weeks, until I met them. They weren’t in the lecture room, so I took out my phone after opening my laptop.

‘Went out last night and am still hungover – Sorry! We’re not coming.’

With lips pressed to a line, I quickly replied that it was fine and then went to social media sites, since I was bored without nobody to talk to. I heard how the lecture room got more and more filled within minutes, but I still didn’t look up.

“Is this seat taken?”, someone suddenly asked, obviously right next to me, so I looked up. There stood a young man, maybe my age with hazel brown hair, dark big eyes – packed in a coat and scarf.

“No, have a seat”, I responded hastily as I realized my stare. With a smile on his face he sat down after pulling off his heavy looking coat. There wasn’t a lot of space on those narrow benches, so it wasn’t to my surprise when he had his difficulties to put his backpack under the table without brushing it against my leg. Few knowing chuckles later, he finally was ready to open an empty document on his laptop, the same procedure I did a few minutes ago.

That was when the tutor came in to start the first lecture of that morning. With all my concentration on the man at the blackboard, I shut everything out that was happening around me, like a good student was supposed to. My skillful fingers quickly hit the keyboard when the tutor said something important, my eyes attentive and focused. For good 15 minutes I was working like this, until I heard a loud sigh from my left. The sound ripped me out of my bubble, making me turn my head towards the man who looked like he would fall asleep any second. The way he leaned back and tried to shift to a more comfortable position for his legs, combined with the blank facial expression that showed me everything but interest, was too funny to watch. I let out a little chuckle, making him look at me with a knowing look.

“You look very motivated”, I stated sarcastically, which made him smirk lazily as his eyes looked to the front again.

“Sorry but it doesn’t seem too interesting to learn that multiple sclerosis is a demyelinating disease, where the, with myelin covered, axons in the brain and spinal cord are severely damaged.”

The way he said that – amused but still with a sign of annoyance towards the subject made me giggle. I quickly looked at the tutor to see if he had said something important but it didn’t seem so, that’s when I turned my attention towards the man again, who was obviously way too tall for those narrow seats. He looked like a grown-up in a bobby car.

“Well, I can’t relate to that since I really like this topic, so…”

“You’re joking, right?”, he cut me off and looked at me, like as to see if I was playing with him. Again, his facial expression made me giggle quietly. With a shrug, I answered him.

“No, really. Call me crazy but I’m interested in it- even if it’s complicated and a lot of strange names. Guess, I just like a challenge? If it was too easy, wouldn’t that be more boring?”

Based on the look he gave me, he was disagreeing with my statement. He tilted his head to the side and sighed again - exaggerated like the first time he did it.

“It just feels like he’s coming up with random word-like sounds, connects them to a way too long sentence and looks at us as if we should do a standing ovation for his impressive sounds that sound more ridiculous to me than comprehensive”, I was a bit taken aback by his highly accurate example and I could see now that he was maybe smarter than almost the whole lecture room. He just seemed like someone really smart, just based on the way he was choosing his words. Maybe my reaction was a bit too slow for his liking or I just spaced out, because he now shrugged his shoulder and had lightly blushed cheeks. “Just my opinion, maybe I’m the only one with that opinion and I’m just stupid for not focusing enough.”

“Oh, no I don’t think that you’re the only one”, I quickly replied so I wouldn’t seem mean for not responding properly. “I guess more people here would relate to you than to my nerd-self.”

This again made him look at me with a warm smile, he was amused I guessed. Before he answered, I could see him scanning my document, that contained a full page of notes, graphs and even different kinds of titles. Immediately I followed his eyes, then looked at his almost empty one and couldn’t help but had to chuckle. He sighed with an embarrassed smile on his face and scratched his neck. As a reflex, his fingers were placed on the keyboard again, as if he wanted to be ready for making notes again – a little gesture that made him seem adorable.

“Don’t compare yourself to me, oh god.”

“You pressured me”, he replied and chuckled when he heard my gasp.

“I didn’t!”

“You did, with your notes looking like one of a professional and mine looking like the ones of a 12-year old.”

“And how is that my fault?”, I teased and laughed when I saw that he didn’t have anything more to say and pressed his lips to a line. He looked to the front again and sat straight for the first time since he’s there, looking way too amusing than I could take him seriously. I shook my head and paid attention to the tutor again, practically for the rest of the lecture.

A quick peek here and there towards my left showed me how the man with the mesmerizingly dark but soft eyes was focused, he even put more effort in his notes now. Was it because of my notes? The thought of that made me smile again, as I continued to listen.

“Mh?”

“What?”, I looked confused at him and met his eyes.

“You laughed at me”, he stated and made me chuckle, making me even more confused.

“I didn’t! Why do you think that?”, he looked at his notes again and then at mine.

“You compared my document with yours again and laughed at me”, the fact that his mouth was formed to a small pout, made him seem like the purest man ever. It was funny because he was probably the tallest man I’d ever met but he still didn’t have one bit of an intimidating side of him. Or I just hadn’t seen that side yet. He was cute, actually.

“That’s not true, believe me. And again, stop comparing yourself!”, at that, he chuckled and made a grimace, as if he wanted to say ‘yeah sure’. The lecture was soon over - to my surprise. Never before had a lecture passed that fast as this morning. And never before had a lecture been that good fun.

“Well, that’s a wrap”, the man stated as he closed his laptop with a relieved expression on his face, which made me smile once more. I stood up to collect all my things, when he suddenly stood up from his chair as well, leaving me speechless for a moment. I knew that he was tall but well, I didn’t expect me to be more than one head smaller than him, since my height was where his chest ended. It must have looked ridiculous to others, the height difference between him and me. Still surprised, I walked towards the end of the row rather quickly because I was scared that I might had stared too long at him when he stood right in front of me. At the exit, I couldn’t help but looked back to see where he went. Would he have the same lecture as me now? For a moment I was confused since I couldn’t spot the tall man until someone tapped my shoulder. There he was, his signature smile gave his appearance a sense of warmth.

“Room 401?”, he asked with raised eyebrows, to which I grinned and nodded. We really had the same lecture, again. His smile grew the second he saw my nod, then walked out of the room and down the hall – next to me. Right then, I didn’t really know what to say or what to talk about. To start and talk about chemistry might had not been the best way to loosen up. Not that I was nervous or tensed, I just didn’t know how to continue the conversation, or if I should try at all.

“What’s in that bag you carry with you? It seems heavy”, he suddenly said to break the silence between us. Unconsciously, I thanked him for making the first step and looked down at the black sports bag.

“Oh, uhm skates?”, now he looked at me with a lot of surprise.

“You go ice-skating after school? That’s nice!”, I liked how interested he seemed in my hobby. I nodded and explained to him that I always went after my lectures, even though if I only had an hour. He nodded, seeming impressed. Before asking him something in response, I bit my lips.

“Do you like ice skating?”, at that, he grinned brightly. Eventually, his fingers went through his thick, brown hair.

“Actually yes, but it has been a while since I last went on the ice. Maybe three years? But I really like it. It’s relaxing in its own unique way, I guess,” I nodded heavily when he said that and walked into room 401 with him casually following me. The next lecture was exactly like the last one. From the beginning on, we both tried to focus on the tutor and the material he was giving us, but at a certain point, one of us complained or sighed, the other chuckled and a conversation started. In the end, we had been talking the whole lecture basically and the bell came way too fast in my opinion (not that I’d complain). In the hallway again, the brown-haired man swayed his arms slightly, seeming happy.

“Finally lunchtime, I was starving”, he finally said on the door to the cafeteria which laid on the way out of the big building. He turned towards me and scratched his neck. “Want to have lunch together?”

“No, thanks”, I said quickly without any thought behind it. But maybe I said that too quick because his happy expression dropped and changed to a mix between confusion and disappointment. With a blank expression, he looked down at me and then held his heart in the most dramatic way possible.

“Uhh okay, then not”, he laughed but I widened my eyes and shook my head in ‘no’. Fuck, I didn’t want to sound as if I wanted to reject him!

“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that!”, I sighed when he gave me an exaggeratedly heartbroken expression. “Let me explain first. I said no because I’m used to eat at the ice rink. It’s faster and their food might not be better than here but it’s cheaper”, I chuckled a bit embarrassed because the misunderstanding but was relieved to see him calm again. “If you want, you are very welcome to come with me?”

He was thinking for a long time. While he was humming and looking around him for a bit, he rubbed his arm. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him? What if he didn’t want to come and now tried to find an appropriate excuse? I pressed my lips to a line as I had those thoughts, regretting asking him with every second that he wasn’t answering the question.

“You don’t have t-”

“I’ll look like an idiot on the ice, I can tell you”, he said at the same time as me, which made both of us chuckle.

“Ah I bet you’ll be fine. Otherwise, you can get those supporting devices for children? Though I think you’re a little bit too tall for them”, I teased him.

“Or I can hold onto your arm and if I fall, you fall with me”, now he was the one smirking. “But yeah, I think I will come with you then. If you want to me to?”, at that I nodded quickly, walking outside with him. The good thing about the university was that they had a wide range of sports offers, for which you didn’t even have to pay. So it was perfect that the ice rink was about 5 minutes away from school and had a free entry. One more reason for me to come here everyday after the lectures were finished. Since it got colder the longer we were outside, he dug his hands in the pockets of his coat.

“What’s your name by the way?”, he suddenly asked and turned his head and looked down at me. The fact that we had been talking to each other for several hours and still didn’t know the name of the other made us laugh. After I told him mine, he mouthed it a few times, which looked kind of cute.

“And you?”

“I’m Yunho.”

“Yunho”, I mouthed the unique name and made him chuckle. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you?”, he opened the door of the ice rink so I could enter. “Uhh, met you on the rink? I have to rent the shoes.”

“Okay. Good luck walking in them”, I teased. “Don’t fall!”

“I try to, thanks”, he rolled his eyes and stood in the queue when I walked into the dressing room and changed the shoes, put on some gloves and checked my phone for a bit, knowing he would take a while.

After ten minutes, I stepped out onto the ice rink, walking skillfully on the skates, since I was trained. Yunho obviously wasn’t there yet so I decided to go in the ice already, it was way too tempting so I couldn’t just wait for him. My eyes closed when I slid over the white ground, feeling the cold breeze in my face, causing my hair to float. In that very moment, as I had my eyes closed and just enjoyed myself, I felt the happiest I could ever be. There were a few children and only a few couples, one or two beginners and me on the ice. It was fine because the rink was big enough that nobody would have had trouble with too little space. Usually if I was here on my own, I’d put my earphones on because there was no better feeling than listening to calm music while ice-skating. But I guessed that talking to Yunho was probably more appropriate. After five minutes of skating on my own, I felt myself getting impatient. Where was he and why did it take him that long to put on some skates? I stopped skating on the track and was about to slid towards the exit when I suddenly spotted the tall man – and I swear to god – it was the funniest thing I’d ever seen in my entire life.

The giant, packed in his coat, scarf and black gloves, shakily placed one foot on the ice and held onto the handrail as if his life depended on it. He was worse than the little children next to him, that were not even half his height and practically jumped on the ice, while he was gripping the handrail, turned his back towards the ice rink so his ass popped out and placed the second foot on the white ground too. I couldn’t even TRY to stop my laughter. Even though I never had difficulties to keep the balance on the ice, in that very moment as I laughed while holding my stomach, I almost slipped, which left me gasping in shock. Luckily, Yunho was too busy trying to stand on the ice (of course still with his hands on the handrail) so he didn’t see me almost tripping. I then decided to slide over the ice and stopped five feet apart, grinning widely at him. He looked up and instantly chuckled but with a sense of frustration in it, which made him look so freaking adorable.

“Tell me how a six-foot-tall man like you is worse at standing on ice than little children?”, I laughed as he let his head sink for a moment and tried to stand up. While doing so, his body was stiff as wood and was tripping back and forth at every little millimeter.

“You know that you can also help me instead of standing there?”

“I could. Should I?”, I giggled as he glared at me.

“Please?”, he said that with so much frustration that I could tell how hard it must have been to ask me for help. How could I have resisted to those big teddy bear eyes? I got closer and took his hand in mine. Immediately, he shifted his weight on me, which made it hard for me to stand even. It was enough to make us both laugh.

“My goodness, relax”, I laughed and balanced us both out the best I could. He really tried, I could see it, but it was so hilarious to see this giant struggling with just standing on the ice.

“Sorry, sorry”, he whined and eventually managed to take the other hand off the handrail as well. He put that hand on my shoulder, again pulling me down a bit. “Sorry! I don’t do it on purpose”, he whined more, making me laugh more. After a couple of seconds, he was steady and exhaled loudly. He then threw his head back and looked relieved. It was weird to stand that close in front of him, holding onto each other’s hand. As he looked down on me again, he grinned brightly out of a sudden, making me look up in a confused way.

“What?”

“I just realized how tiny you are.”

The fact that he was the one laughing over me now was a plot twist I wasn’t ready for, so I pouted and decided to push his chest with my free hand. That may or may not had been a good idea, since he lost his balance and almost pulled me with him. Eventually, I could hold the balance again and pulled him closer. This made him laugh and me groan.

“If you have to fall, can you at least let go of my hand?”

“You pushed me in the first place!”, at that, I just rolled my eyes and looked at my feet for a moment. To be honest, it was quite exhausting for me to lay my head in my neck just to look into his eyes. Why did he have to be so tall?

“Whatever. Do you want to stand like this the whole time or do you actually consider ice-skating?”, he pressed his lips to a line and looked around for a bit. It made me tilt my head. “Or are you scared?”

“I’m not scared!”, he laughed and slowly let go of my grip. Only now I realized how strong his grip had been on me, which was quite funny. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve last been ice-skating. Let’s try.”

Slowly, he let go of me and to my surprise, he stood straight. However, his eyes were glued on the ice and that didn’t change as he started to move his feet in the tiniest way possible. I moved slightly away from him but still in a distance where I could catch him if he’d fall. He didn’t look particularly steady when starting to slide over the ice, but he got more and more confident the longer he was skating and it was quite impressive how fast he made progress. Not even 5 minutes later, he was skating with increased speed, arms not spread anymore like the little children did. He only did that on the first track. Soon, his footwork was way more skillful than of most of the people on the track. I didn’t have trouble to catch him up with, however he was quite fast. His right hand now laid on his lower back, making him look a lot more elegant and smoothly.

“Where did the sudden skill come from?”, I asked him with amazement once I was next to him once again. He chuckled and put an a exaggeratedly confident expression.

“It has never been away.”

“Are your sure? The beginning looked pretty miserable”, he gasped in shock when I exposed him and turned his head towards me. “Even the children looked at you with pity.”

“Will you stop!”, he pushed me a bit and laughed with me. “I told you I needed some time. But look at me now, I’m confident and nothing could make me trip now.”

“Nothing?”, I teased and immediately saw some kind of challenge in his words. He shook his head, smirking in a cocky way.

“Nope.”

“We’ll see about that”, I replied and kept sliding over the ice. It was really calming, being here with him wasn’t awkward at all. Actually, it hadn’t been awkward for one second of the day. As time went by, we were talking about all different kind of things. He told me about he used to play hockey as a kid but gave it up since he had a tough school schedule. That was probably why he was so smooth and deft when quickly skating around a child that just tripped in front of him. What was really nice of him was that he always stopped and helped them up again, eventually wiping some snow off their jackets. The sight of his tall-self kneeling in front of a little child, mixed with his warm smile made such a good impression on me. He really was caring, not only with actions like those but also because he listened to me with such an honesty and interest that it made me feel comfortable. When the ice machine came on the rink and everyone had to go off the ice, he asked me if we could go to the little restaurant. I then remembered that we still hadn’t had lunch, which made me realize how much time we just spent together talking and skating without paying attention to anything else.

“I didn’t even realize how hungry I’ve been”, he stated once he started to eat the French fries in front of him. I nodded and agreed as I ate the burger in rather silence. He stuffed his mouth with food for the next five minutes and then got up to buy another portion. As I looked outside the window, I noticed the sunset coloring the sky in a faded purple, mixed with all the different kinds of pink and orange. It made me smile. Sunsets always changed the complete mood of the scenery, no matter where.

“What are you looking at?”, he suddenly ripped me out of my thoughts. I smiled and nodded towards the window, seeing him following my eyes.

“Somehow the ice rink changed into something…magical?”, I looked out of the window as I said that and waited for him to hum or say something. But when he didn’t give me any sound, I looked back at him and instantly froze. He was already looking at me with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile. His crossed arms rested on the table, he was a bit leaned over the table. Something about this look, the way he watched me like that without even saying anything, caused a weird feeling to grow in my stomach. “W-why are you looking at me like that?”, I asked and instantly got surprised because my usual steady voice suddenly was shaking and sounded hesitant. My reaction must had been amusing to him because he chuckled and looked away from me and then out of the window.

“Magical, really?”, I hummed as a response but it sounded like a question. Again, he smirked and looked back at me. “What are you, a Disney princess?”

“Stop teasing!”

“How can I when you say magical? It’s just a sunset”, he laughed and made me lean back with a massive pout.

“It looks pretty.”

“It does.”

“Then why do you tease me?”, I snapped a bit and pouted even more when he clapped his hands and laughed.

“Because nobody uses magical to describe a sunset except you!”

“Let me live in my fantasy, okay?”, he eventually calmed down from his laughter and protectively held up his hands as to apologize.

“Alright, alright.”

“Thank you”, I groaned. For a moment it was silent between us and I calmed down from the situation.

“Magical.”

“Stop, oh my god!”, I whined and kicked his leg under the table when he started to laugh again. “I wouldn’t have guessed that you could be so mean!”

“You just gave me the perfect base for it, I’m sorry”, he grinned and cupped my hand for a moment. I looked down at the action and noticed how giant his hand was compared to mine. His was almost cupping my whole hand. He calmed down from his laughter once more, looking at his hand as well before letting go after a while. I pressed my lips to a line and looked up at him, still with a slight pout on my face. I met his brown eyes and for a moment, we just looked at each other without anyone saying anything. Somehow it wasn’t awkward at all, it was the opposite. “Do you always blush when you’re embarrassed?”

It took me a moment to realize what he just said. Did he…? As an instinct, my hands went up to my face and cupped my cheeks. Indeed, I could feel how hot I was. He chuckled, which made me curse on the inside. Why was I blushing! That was so embarrassing, I hated that feeling so I groaned and hid my face behind my hands.

“Ahh stop this, take your hands away”, he said but I immediately shook my head. I heard him sigh and a moment later, he grabbed my hands and lowered them so I could look at his stupid smile again.

“Satisfied with yourself?”

“Kind of”, he smirked.

After that little interaction, we decided to go on the rink again. Now, it was already late afternoon and the sky had a navy blue-greyish color. Artificial light illuminated the ice and made it look even nicer because there weren’t a lot of people left. All the children had gone home already, there only were a few couples and single skaters. Back on the ice, I smoothly made a little pirouette to turn towards Yunho. I was curious if he would go back to being a clumsy mess when getting on the ice. But to my surprise, he followed quickly after me without any problems, chin high and with a cocky smirk on his face. I laughed at his dorkiness and started to skate away from him. Now that there was a lot more space to use, I could work on tricks I wanted to perfectionate. Things like a double pirouette, making a perfect circle or sliding on one foot for a long time. While I practiced some of those, I didn’t really focus on Yunho or the other people – at that moment it was just me in my element. While I was just struggling with getting the perfect angle of my leg in the pirouette, I could see Yunho imitating my actions from the corner of my eye. That made me stop, so I could look at how he was doing it. Again, it was adorable to see him being so focused. He even bit onto his tongue as he was trying the pirouette several times and though it didn’t really had any sense of elegance in those movements, his technique wasn’t too bad, which impressed me and made me giggle. I think he heard me because he then looked up, almost tripped while doing so and scratched his neck.

“That wasn’t even that horrible!”

“Didn’t expect that, huh!”, he laughed and slid closer to me. I shook my head and watched him doing it again, soon both of us were doing pirouettes while giggling. I didn’t even want to know how that must had looked from the outside. But I didn’t care, since I hadn’t had this much fun in a while.

“Can you help me with a double pirouette?”, I asked him after a while and smiled when he nodded and came a bit closer, ready to support me if I slipped. While I was practicing, he hummed a lot or gave impressed gasps from him, which made me giggle and almost trip sometimes since I kept losing my concentration. One time, I must have been somewhere else with my thoughts because one foot collided with the other while I was turning, so I tripped and was about to fall on my back. But suddenly, I felt a force pulling me forward again. It was Yunho, who reacted quickly and had grabbed the collar of my jacket and pulled me against him – However, there was a bit too much strength in his action since I crashed into him and…

“Ouw!”, with a muffled bang, we both landed on the ice, me on top of him. A loud groan escaped his lips, while I was still a bit in shock.

“Did you hurt yourself?”, I immediately asked when I supported myself with my hand on the ice next to his head, so he wouldn’t feel my full weight. For a moment I was really worried because on one’s back could really hurt but instead of whining or having a painfilled expression, Yunho started to laugh. Somehow I couldn’t help but to join him, the more I thought what just happened, the funnier it seemed.

“Ahh what was that”, he rubbed over his face before I rolled off him and stood up. Then I helped him getting on his feet.

“Your grip was way too strong”, I giggled and wiped some ice off his back, that was practically covered with it. Like a dog, he shook his head and removed white flakes from his hair.

“My self-control is nonexistent, I guess”, he whined and smiled at me. “But this wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t trip, just saying.” His sudden change of tone to a way cockier one left me gasping.

“I trip once in a month maybe!”, Yunho didn’t seem impressed and skated to skate backwards now. Was he showing off?! I tilted my head and followed him, then imitated his action by his side. Like this, we were skating down the whole rink, then eventually started a race who could make it faster to the start again. I soon discovered that the tall brown-haired one was as competitive as me, which was to my liking because I always was down for a challenge. After I won the race and saw him rolling his eyes, I had to giggle.

“That was luck, again.”

“Fine, but don’t cry if you lose again”, I nudged his shoulder and got into position again. Like that, Yunho and I started race after race, had a competitions about who could make the smoothest circle (it was a tie) and who could slide the longest on one leg. This last part was especially entertaining, since Yunho could slide really long tracks on one leg, however his leg didn’t go higher than maybe 5 centimeters. I laughed at the lack of elegance and he joined me because he expected himself to be better than that. For the next minute he tried to convince me that he wore the wrong kind of pants but I wasn’t believing him one bit of that.

“I’ll show you the next time!”, he called and sounded really confident in what he was saying. However I was focusing on something else, something that made me smile and tilt my head at him.

“Next time?”, I repeated and saw how he was nodding his head slightly.

“Yeah?”, now he sounded a bit hesitant. A cloud of hot air escaped his mouth before he started to speak again. “I mean, unless you don’t want me to join you again. Would be understandable, I beat you in most of the races and practically am a better skater than you who practices this hobby way longer than me.

At that I had to roll my eyes, making him chuckle softly.

“I’d love to compete against you again. There have to be a lot of revenges”, I grinned and saw him putting his hands in the pockets of his coat once more.

“Winner buys the lunch tomorrow?”

“Deal”, I agreed with a bright smile on my lips, that were shivering at this point. Yunho noticed that I was cold and looked around a bit before nodding towards the exit.

“It’s getting freezing, should we go?”

“Yeah, I think so…”

He nodded and we left the rink, being the last ones now. Ten minutes after, I was ready to go and waited for him in front of the entrance. This day had been way better than I had expected it to be. I was really glad that I met Yunho in the university. The fact that I now knew we had the same lectures made me happy when I thought about it. Maybe we would see each other again tomorrow? I hoped so, he promised so at least. As I was a bit lost in my thoughts, I didn’t quite hear him coming out and jumped once he tapped my shoulder.

“Don’t scare me like that”, I softly hit his arm and made him laugh.

“Not my fault if you’re that easy to scare”, I rolled my eyes and looked up into those big dark eyes. Even though they were almost pitch black, there was not one second during this day where I felt a coldness coming from them. Together with this warm smile of him, they gave me a comforting feeling whenever I looked up at him. It was easy to get lost in them. I said that because he was suddenly smiling brightly and ripped me out of my obvious stare.

“Mh?”, I said confused and felt the heat coming back to my cheeks.

“I said”, he exaggeratedly underlined his words. “I see you tomorrow in the lecture room?”

At this point, I couldn’t look at him somehow. Knowing that I was blushing once more because of him and knowing that he for sure noticed it made me want to rush past him here and then. But I stayed and nodded.

“I’d love to”, I added and eventually forced myself to look up at the tall man once more. Only to see that his eyes already on me. “So I can see your demotivated expressions again.” We both laughed at that, I instantly remembered how he had sat in the narrow chair with a blank expression that was hilarious. He pushed his hair back and rolled his eyes. It got silent again between us, however, this time was a bit different from all the other times. Completely different. Why did the heat in my cheeks didn’t fade?

“See you?”, he asked after a while of thick silence. The kind that made you smile without you really intending to, but you still smiled because it seemed more natural than just staying with a blank expression. I nodded my head and cursed at myself when the heat increased instead of decreasing.

“See you…”

[pyrrhicmessiah]

five times kissed -lou obvs

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one.

They were the last two standing, but there could only be one victor. She knew what he would say before he offered it: just kill me. Clarke shook her head, throwing her axe to the ground with some tangible anger at his suggestion. “ No. ” A thought occurred to her then, and she produced the little knapsack of nightlock berries they’d collected earlier that day. Holding them out between them, she met his eyes solemnly. She would not kill him, they couldn’t make her do it. “ Together? ” Together. The berries had almost grazed her lips when the voice rang out pronouncing them the VICTORS. Plural. She dropped the fruit and pulled Lou into a tight hug, relieved sobs racking her body. But his weight suddenly sagged against her, and she sank to the ground with him, cradling his head. His shirt had ridden up enough with the movement that she could see the wound from earlier --- when he’d taken a serious gash for her --- steadily seeping blood. “ Lou? ” She whispered. “ Lou?! ” Panic seeped into her and she gently lay his head down on the ground so she could move to hold pressure on the wound. “ Please, Lou, please. Don’t leave me. Please. We made it, we won --- together. We can go home. ” The storm of emotions washing over her was too difficult to sort out in the moment, so she just acted on the strongest impulse. Still holding pressure with her hands, she bent and pressed a fierce kiss to his lips. 

two. 

Their mentor stopped them before they went out to review the footage of the Games with Caesar, informing them exactly what kind of stakes they had set for themselves. You have to sell it. You have to convince them all that the only reason you were willing to eat those berries was because you were so damn in love, you couldn’t even think of living without each other. They had crossed a very dangerous line in refusing to give the Capitol what it wanted in the end. Unbidden, she took Lou’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing it softly. Although it certainly served the purposes of fitting with this new script they were expected to follow, Clarke just needed to hold his hand to steady herself. They’d face this together, too. Caesar welcomed them on stage with open arms and his enigmatic smile as everyone cheered for the star-crossed lovers from District 7. Rewatching the footage was hard to stomach, but whenever her heart started to race and that chill crept down her spine, she recentered her focus on his hand in hers. ‘Oh, this moment killed me, Clarke. I cried like a baby watching this!’ They had finally, blessedly reached the end of the footage. But they had captured those moments after they were pronounced victors, where she’d held pressure on his wound and kissed him. She could feel the blush all the way from her cheeks to the tips of her ears as the audience ooh’ed and ah’ed at the video. The sighs of the crowd turned into a deafening cheer when Louis’ free hand gently turned her chin towards him and he slotted his mouth over hers. The roaring only grew louder when she kissed him back.

three.

The Victory Tour was a horrible, awful experience. Having to face the families of the fallen tributes and give a speech full of the ridiculous rhetoric the Capitol wanted to feed the Districts made Clarke want to puke. And she was forced to share a very confined space with Louis, on top of the public appearances. Upon their return to District 7, they’d hardly spoken; everything was just... too confusing to unravel. She missed the days of their easy flirtation, from before they’d ever set foot in the Capitol. At least in 7 she’d had some ways to avoid him, but now they were rooming right next to each other. When she woke up screaming that first night, as she had nearly every night since the Games, she was shocked to see him standing in the doorway. His breathing was as rushed as hers, their chests rising and falling in quick bursts. “ Please stay. ” She blurted, as she noticed him start to turn from the door. He hesitated for a moment, but then joined her on the bed. From then on, they stayed with each other every night to keep the nightmares at bay.  One night, as they lay together in the dark, Clarke found her mind drifting to the kisses they’d shared in front of the cameras. Would it be different, if it was just the two of them, alone in the dark? Before she could really think it through, her lips were searching out his. The kiss was timid at first, but as the dam they’d so carefully erected to keep their emotions out of the situation burst, it grew quickly passionate. When they separated to take a breath, she was trying to find the words to tell him what he actually meant to her when he said: That was... great practice for the cameras tomorrow. She processed his words sluggishly, the heat of the kiss still tingling on her lips. Finally realizing what he’d said, and even more embarrassingly, what he’d meant, she cleared her throat, “ Yeah, uhm, thanks. ” What a perfect reminder that they were both acting.

four.

Except it was becoming harder and harder to piece together when they were acting and when they weren’t. Their tour ended in the Capitol and they were expected to stay for a couple weeks, make appearances at important events and the like. And above all, continue to put on a show for the Capitol to shove down the District’s throats. They surely put on a show, but Clarke couldn’t remember the last time she was faking anything around him. Every touch, every sidelong glance, every time she said something witty just to make him laugh --- it was all real. They'd stepped outside on a balcony to cool off one night, the room full of people drunkenly dancing and laughing abandoned behind them. She was preoccupied looking at the city lights, the swirls of color having captured her attention so thoroughly that she was shocked for a moment when he was suddenly kissing her. It surprised her so much that she took a step backwards, which he matched with one forward. Then in one swift movement, they were out of sight of the party goers, just behind the balcony doors. Hidden from their view, this kiss was just between them. The intensity of it slowed to something sweeter, more precious and tender than any they’d shared in front of a crowd or camera. 

five. 

They kissed more frequently from that night on, especially away from the Capitol’s prying eyes, but they were both too afraid to address anything for some time. So the years passed and they mentored tributes together and they were featured stars in the Capitol every time the Hunger Games season rolled around. They still slept side by side, reassuring one another that their nightmares could no longer hurt them. They kissed on and off screen, but never really addressed how they felt; perhaps they were both too afraid to hear the truth. It was the night of the Quell announcement that proved catalyst enough to force her admission. They sat in the bed that night, holding each other close in a quiet state of horrified shock. The reality that they would be going back into the Games, facing people they’d come to know fairly well over the last few years, made all the dancing around seem so stupid. Still, her voice is hushed, aware that she won’t be able to take the words back once they’re out. Gently, she looked up at him, cupping his cheek with her hand and steeling herself to look into his eyes so he can see the truth written there. “ It’s not an act for me, Lou, it hasn’t been for a long time and I--- ” They didn’t say much else that night as he cut her off with a kiss that, although it was still tender, burned in a way that would inevitably lead to their consumption.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day One - Hidden Connections

AN: You guys!!! Spideychelle week is finally here!! Ahhhh I’m so excited to see what everyone else as written and to share my stuff! Here is my contribution to day one! It’s a little short and quick, and there’s a fair amount of non-romantic stuff in it, but I just thought this idea was really funny and had to write it down! A huge thank you to @spideychelleweek for putting this together! 

Prompt: Secret Relationship AU/College AU

Pls enjoy some 2.4k of humor, fluff, and a dash of angst.

.

.

“To whom it may concern,”

“Dear Sir or Madam,”

“Dear Mr. Bugle,”

“Hello,

I hope your day is going well.

My name is Peter Parker, and I happened to film the altercation between the criminal known as Rhino and the heroes Luke Cage and Spider-Man on the intersection of 42nd Street and 11th Avenue. I have some screencaps of it attached, if you are interested in the video for a blog post, let me know. I am willing to sell said footage for a discounted quick-sale price.

Sincerely,

Yours Truly,

Love,

Thanks,

Peter Parker

--

Releasing a puff of air through his lips, Peter hits send.

The clickable ad he’d seen while scrolling through Facebook said: SEND VIDEOS OF SPIDER-MAN. $1 PER SECOND*. It was only after he’d clicked did he notice the fine print: Spider-Man must be within the frame for the whole second, otherwise the dollar is void.

But that doesn’t matter. Peter has a full five minutes that Dronie had so graciously recorded for him of Luke Cage and him kicking Rhino’s ass.

And he really needs the money.

MJ’s birthday is four days away, a day which also coincides with his rent being due, so in other words: he’s essentially broke. While he does have money in his bank account, he only has enough for one of those things, not both, and he can’t really afford to be evicted at this point. He knows MJ won’t leave him if he doesn’t get her anything…

But she at least deserves something nice.

This video should net him roughly $300; he can take her out to a nice dinner, maybe buy her something actually decent for a change. Not another scarf.

And who knows? She might not even want to go out to a fancy restaurant, seeing as she’s turned down every offer he’s given to take her out in the six months they’ve been dating. Every date night, it’s either been take-out, a quick slice, or some kind of fast food. Not that he’s complaining about hanging out with his girlfriend; every minute spent with her was more than enough. And he’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a little easier on the wallet.

But there was still that seed of doubt. Why did she never want to leave Queens? Why was it always such a rush to get back home? Why hadn’t she introduced him to her parents? The intrusive, relentless thought that her being embarrassed of him might have been a factor whispered darkly in the back of his mind. He knows he can be immature at times, both with his sense of humor and overall behavior, so, albeit shamefully, he could understand where she was coming from.

Maybe a nice present accompanied by a fancy dinner could help to prove that he can act like a grown-up.

Maybe.

--

The next morning, while happily munching on a bowl of Hulk O’s, he’s genuinely surprised to see a reply in his notification bar from none other than J. Jonah Jameson himself.

“I want to see that video. Will talk about your payment after I have it analyzed by my team.

Your appointment is today at 9am. Don't be late.

J.J. Jameson

Editor for the Daily Bugle Heralding Your Daily News │Tel [212] 555-7109│Fax [877] 555-0971

Sent from my iPhone.”

Peter only allows himself a moment to be put off by the the informality of Jameson’s response, brows crinkled as he turns to check the time.

8:30 AM.

He drops his spoon into the bowl, milk and soggy cereal splashing.

Well, shit.

He stuffs whatever clothes he can find into a backpack before roughly yanking his suit on; he flings himself out of his fifth story window, cereal bowl abandoned on the kitchen counter. Phone in hand, following along on Google Maps, he wonders how super heroes were able to find their way around big cities before GPS.

The next thirty minutes fly by in a blur, and Peter honestly doesn’t know how he’s able to put enough brain cells together to find a place to change into his civilian “interview” clothes. It’s a wonder he made it there in one piece.

The lobby doesn’t have any kind of directory, or any indication of where J. Jonah Jameson is supposed to be. In fact, Peter isn’t even sure where he’s supposed to meet the guy, unable to recall if there’d been anything like that in the email.

He gingerly approaches the front desk, ducking his head down slightly as he offers a smile to the receptionist. “Uhm, hello! I’m here to see Mr. Jameson?”

The woman gives him the the quick once over, visibly unimpressed. “You got a delivery, kid?”

“Uh, n-no.” Peter shifts awkwardly, smile fading. “He, uh, he sent me an email. To meet him at nine? Today? Right… Right now?”

“Hold on,” she says, her voice monotone, turning to the phone on the desk and dialing a four digit number with freshly manicured nails.

Peter starts to say, “Thanks,” but is cut off by the woman holding a finger up.

“Hey Ted, I’ve got a kid down here. Says he’s supposed to meet with Jameson. Do you know anything about it?”

She listens for a moment, nodding. “Okay, thanks.”

Click.

“Okay, kid, go over to that elevator. 17th floor. Someone will meet you.”

Peter smiles again, throwing a quick, but polite, “Thank you,” over his shoulder as he moves.

He’s met by who he assumes to be Ted, a slight middle-aged man with tired eyes. “Peter Parker?” He asks.

Peter nods.

“Alright, follow me.”

Peter isn’t taken directly to the office at first, only being seated in the waiting area just outside.

For thirty minutes.

9 AM, he said. Don’t be late, he said.

The door to the office is ajar, the sound of Jameson yelling at and berating some poor unfortunate soul over the phone almost as loud as the clacking of Ted’s typing on his keyboard.

“I don’t care what that weasel said, I want it done right this time! And if you had done what I’d told you to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!” There’s a pause as Jameson presumably listens to the person on the other line begging for mercy. “Fine. Go with the lilac. It’ll clash with your comforter, you’ll see. Don’t come crying to me when you have to buy a whole new bed set.”

Another beat of just Ted’s typing passes.

“Okay. Love you, Mom. Buh-bye.” Jameson hangs up, before yelling out the door. “HOFFMAN!”

“Yes, sir?” Ted answers quickly.

“MY 9:00 IS LATE. IT’S 9:30!”

“No, sir, he’s here sir. He’s been here since 9.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? I COULD’VE HAVE ENDED THIS CONVERSATION SOONER. MAKE A NOTE OF THAT, HOFFMAN.”

“Yes, sir. Will do, sir.”

“NEXT TIME, INTERRUPT MY PHONE CALL. STICK YOUR HEAD IN HERE. GIVE ME A SIGNAL.” He sighs. “Okay. Send him in.”

Ted looks over. “You can go on in. Good luck.”

Peter falters for a moment, wondering if he’s really willing to go through with this.

No. He is. MJ was more than worth it.

He says a quick, “Thank you,” before walking in to the lion’s den.

Jameson sits at his desk, looking up briefly, chewing on an unlit cigar. “Well, quit your dawdling, get in here.”

Peter picks up the pace.

The man glares at him for an uncomfortable few moments, sizing him up, before extending his hand. “You got the video?” He asks, skipping introductions entirely.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” Peter swallows, handing him the drive.

Jameson hums. “I was expecting someone… More… professional.”

It’s then that Peter realizes he’d left his apartment without even combing his hair or brushing his teeth. He hadn’t even bothered put on deodorant or to change out of his The Mighty Thorgi t-shirt. He’s wearing a pair of the day before yesterday’s and yesterday’s jeans, and to make matters worse, he’s wearing two different shoes; one grey converse and one blue.

“You homeless or something? Because there’s a soup kitchen around here.” Jameson spends the next few moments trying to plug in the USB to his computer, flipping it over and over. “Damn thing. HOFFMAN!”

Ted practically sprints in. “Yes, sir?”

Peter tries to speak. “I can do it if you—”

“—Don’t patronize me, kid,” Jameson snaps. “Hoffman. Plug this in.”

Peter watches in silence as Jameson’s expression never changes as the video plays out on his computer. Peter knows what’s on the video, he knows it by heart, in fact. He fought in it. When the video ends, Jameson leans back, his blank expression now seems thoughtful.

“I’m gonna give it to you straight kid,” He says. “It’s a good video. Now I can send this down to my lab nerds. They can calculate the exact amount of time that Spider-Man’s in a full frame. I’m guessing it’s gonna be around $120 to $150. But, that’s if we give you credit, of course. If you wanna sign the rights of this video over to us, we’re looking at, say, $350 upfront. You won’t be credited, though.”

To Peter, that actually sounds pretty good; he gets a good amount of money, more than he thought, and his name won’t be tied to his alter-ego. It’s a win-win. “Oh, yeah! That sounds great!”

Jameson’s smile is shark-like. “Great. HOFFMAN! GET ME CONTRACT A27!”

“Do you mean A63, sir?” Ted asks from the door, contract already in hand, placing it on the desk.

“Yes, yes of course. A63.” Jameson shakes his head. “Can’t get decent help around here,” he mutters.

Peter signs where Ted indicates. Jameson signs the last page and hands back the contract.

“I’ll be back with your copy,” Hoffman says as he exits the room.

Jameson then opens his drawer, retrieving a thick check book and grabbing a pen. “Parker Peterson, right?”

“No, no. Just… Peter… Parker.”

As Jameson writes the check, Peter takes the time to take in the office around him, his eyes drawn immediately to the portrait on the desk. His stomach drops as he realizes who it is.

No doubt about it.

That’s a picture of his girlfriend.

Why is there a picture of MJ… on Jameson’s desk?

“Pretty, isn’t she?”

Jameson’s voice startles Peter, and he looks over, the older man glaring right into him. “Huh?” Peter asks.

“She’s pretty, right? It’s okay. You can say she’s pretty. Beautiful even.”

Peter nods, voice soft. “Yeah. Really beautiful.” And he means it, more than anything, nervous as he is; MJ is the most beautiful person he’s ever known.

With the flick of his wrist, Jameson deliberately flips the portrait away from Peter.

In the amount of time Peter’s been in the office, Jameson has had two volumes: Loud and VERY LOUD. There seems to be a third setting, however. In a hushed, threatening tone, Jameson seethes. “Listen here, kid. I don’t need no smelly, grubby, unemployed jackass drooling all over my daughter.”

Wait, what?!

Fuck.

“I don’t know what thoughts were going through your sick little mind, but that’s my little girl, and I will be damned if she fuels your pervy little spank bank! Do I make myself clear?”

Oh, if only he knew...

Even though Peter could easily take down the older man, he still finds himself shrinking back slightly.

He nods profusely. “Yes, sir, of course sir.”

“Good.” Jameson roughly shoves the check at Peter. “Now get the hell out of my office.”

Peter doesn’t need to be told twice as he dashes through the door, nearly running past Hoffman who expertly passes him the contract copy.

“Have a nice day!” Hoffman calls as Peter disappears down the hallway.

--

Omw, the text read from MJ.

Luckily, Peter had already planned for arrival; the apartment’s clean, the floors vacuumed, Febreez has been sprayed. Conditions were perfect. All he needed to do now was sit and wait, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his thigh, the events from earlier replaying in his head on some kind of torturous loop.

The sound of the key turning the lock fifteen minutes later had his pulse quickening. She was here. “I brought Chinese!” She called as she set the bags down on the dining room table.

Peter cuts right to the chase, barely lasting a second. “So. I met your dad today.”

MJ nearly drops the lo mein, her eyes blown wide. “Oh my God.”

Peter shrugs.

“I am so. So. Sorry.”

He tilts his head a fraction, brows wrinkling in confusion. “Why?”

“I don’t know how he find out,” She says, almost to herself. “I tried to keep this— us— hidden from him. He chases away any guy who comes close to me; friend, colleague… One time a teacher said I was a remarkable student and he— It doesn’t matter. I’ve tried explaining this hetero-normative, misogynistic bullshit to him, but it just goes right over his head. He’s always had this… toxic paternity complex. Like, I know that he loves me, I guess, but that’s no excuse.” She folds her arms across her chest, glancing away, her eyes welling in frustration. “And I just didn’t want him to scare you away.”

Peter puts his hands on her arms. “Woahwoahwoahwoah. Hey. It’s okay.” She looks up at him. “He doesn’t know about us. I just went to the Bugle today to sell a video of Spider-Man… and I saw your picture on his desk.”

Relief washes over her, and she puts a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank God.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Peter grins, before growing confused again, expression crinkling. “I thought your last name was Jones?”

“It is.”

“Then…?”

“So’s my Mom’s,” she elaborates. “They just never got married. Or stayed together, really.”

“Ah, gotcha,” Peter nods.

A comfortable silence fills the room, the food on the table surely getting colder by the minute. But MJ finds that her curiosity is growing too strong. She has to know.

“What did he say?”

Peter snorts, face scrunching as he scratches the back of his neck. “A lot. He totally freaked out when I said you were pretty.”

“He yelled at you for saying I was pretty?”

“Well… It wasn’t really yelling. Just angry whispering. And...” Peter turns bashful. “I said you were beautiful.”

A small smile cracks MJ’s expression, and she looks back down at their now intertwined hands. “Gross.”

“I know.” He cups her cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin there as he stares deeply into her eyes. He leans in, placing a loving, lingering kiss against her lips. As he pulls away, they both sigh. “Just so you know…” He starts, voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes gaze adoringly into his; she’s not even trying to hide how mushy she feels at this moment.

“You’re always the star of my spank bank.”

“Wait, What?”

[wrennix062]

Let's get personal:

• 6 of the songs you listen to most?

You’ll Be Back (Hamilton), Car Radio (TØP Vessel), Soldier Poet King (The Oh Hellos), IDK You Yet (Alexander 23), Lemons (Brye), S.L.U.T (Bea Miller)

• If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

Thomas Sanders

• Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

"Her smile faded, her chest tightened, and heavy blanket of anguis smothered her smallest joy."

• What do you think about most?

Whether or not the world exists

• What does your latest text message from someone else say?

Goodnight

• Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

With

• What's your strangest talent?

Uhm, I can identify any bird based on a picture (not that great a talent)

• Girls... (finish the sentence) Boys... (finish the sentence)

Girls are handsome. Boys are beautiful.

• Ever had a poem or song written about you?

Not that I know of

• When was the last time you played the air guitar?

Earlier tonight (i was listening to the phineas and ferb theme song)

• Do you have any strange phobias?

Agoraphobia (fear or large spaces/rooms, I always hated gym class)

• Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

One of those round flat LEGO dots

• What's your religion

I don't have one specific, though I lean towards a philosophy known as the Dao De Jing

• If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

Birding

• Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind.

• Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

Twenty Øne Pilots

• What was the last lie you told?

That I practiced piano

• Do you believe in karma?

It depends.

• What does your URL mean?

Pidgeon refers to Pidge Gunderson from Voltron Legendary Defender, 11206 is my favorite number

• What is your greatest weakness and strength?

Weakness - Emotions Strength - Music/Art/Writing

• Who is your celebrity crush?

Bex Taylor-Klaus

• Have you ever gone skinny-dipping?

No

• How do you vent your anger?

Writing angst

• Do you have a collection of anything?

Tiny screwdrivers

• Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

Honestly it doesn't really matter. As long as I'm able to talk to them and hear them, I'm good.

• Are you happy with the person you've become?

More or less.

• What's a sound you hate vs a sound you love?

Hate - hail on my window or roof Love - pencil tapping

• What's your biggest "what if"?

What if the world as we know it doesn't exist and we are all living an illusion surrounded by other illusions that act as if they understand reality?

"I think, therefore I am."

• Do you believe in ghosts? What about aliens?

Ghosts, more or less. Aliens, absolutely. There is a vast and ever growing space beyond our knowledge, there is no way we're the only planet capable of harboring life.

• Stick your right arm out. What do you feel first? The same with your left arm.

Right - my nightstand Left - my wall

• Smell the air. What do you smell?

My dogs

• What's the worst place you have ever been to?

A mental hospital, visiting a family member. (No, it wasn't an insane asylum, this family member was dealing with suicidal thoughts and tendencies.)

• Choose - East or West coast?

East.

• Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

I am all genders and none, but of my opposite sex would be Shawn Mendes

• To you, what is the meaning of life?

There is none. You wake up, do things daily, go to sleep, and repeat until you die. You aren't meant to do things differently, some people are just considered better than others and actually make an impact.

• Define Art.

A way for others to interpret an individual's self expression

• Do you believe in luck?

Yes. The universe doesn't treat people the same all the time.

• What's the weather like right now?

It's storming outside, lots of thunder and lightning and rain.

• What time is it?

At the time of writing this question, 12:10 am

• Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

No, I don't drive.

• What was the last book you read?

"The Mysterious Benedict Society"

• Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Absolutely not.

• Do you have any nicknames?

One of my friends refers to me as Remus because I remind her of Remus from Sanders Sides

• What was the last film you saw?

"After The Dark" otherwise known as "The Philisphers"

• What's the worst injury you've had?

Between spraining my wrist and getting a two inch split on my scalp

• Have you ever caught a butterfly?

No, but I have held one and walked with it without it flying away

• Do you have any obsessions right now?

Chemical Engineering, learning Italian, Philosophy

• What's your sexual orientation?

Asexual - Panromantic

• Ever had a rumor spread about you?

Yes

• Do you believe in magic?

Not really, no (but I do believe in the paranormal)

• Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

The only person I know has done me wrong gaslighted me and made me believe it was my fault, so no

• What's your astrological sign?

Aquarius

• Do you save money or spend it?

Depends on if we're talking about video games or real life

• What's the last thing you purchased?

Starbucks White Chocolate Mocha

• Love or Lust?

Lust is fake. I will always and forever choose love

• In a relationship?

Nope

• How many relationships have you had?

Four

• Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

No

• Where were you yesterday?

At home

• Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

An old toy vault that I got at a book fair

• Are you wearing socks right now?

No

• What's your favorite animal?

It's between a lion, a snake, or a coral polyp

• What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

Use a super cheesy dad joke, it always makes everyone laugh

• Where is your best friend?

At home

• Give me your top five favorite blogs on Tumblr

Idk I don't really follow any blogs

• What is your heritage?

Italian, Danish, Norwegian, English

• What were you doing last night at 12:00 am?

Writing fanfiction

• What do you think is Satan's last name?

Grovum (don't ask me why)

• Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

I tried, I hated it

• Are you the kind of friend you want to have as a friend?

Not really, no

• You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss told you that if you are late on more time, you get fired. What do you do?

If I'm late all the time, it means I don't wanna be there. I'll search for my dream job, but right now there is an innocent life at stake and I can do something about it.

• You are at the doctor's office and she has just informed you that you have one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone that you're going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

a) I tell my closest family and friends. I want them to be there for me, but if I tell anyone I'm not close with, they will only pity me.

b) I will spend the rest of my time eating chocolate, drinking coffee like it's soup, and blending waffles, because doing something weird is doing something fun.

c) Not at all. Death is an inevitable concept. I would be sad, I would be angry, but I would not be afraid. There isn't a point to being scared of something you can't avoid.

• You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

I choose love. Living life without loving another person, whether it be romantic, platonic, or familial, would be torture. And for me, love is the same as trust, but trust is not the same as love.

• What's a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

"Sincerely Me" from Dear Evan Hansen

• What are the last four digits of your cell phone number?

9286

• In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Equality.

• How can I win your heart?

Chocolate, a Ferris wheel ride at night, and accepting my sexual orientation.

• Can insanity have more creativity?

No. Creativity is always in the back of your mind. The same is with darker creativity. Insanity just brings it to the forefront or makes you act on it.

• What is the single best decision you have made in your life?

I decided that self harm doesn't help. I'm glad I did, or I could have landed myself in a hospital.

• What size shoes do you wear?

8 1/2

• What quote would be written on your tombstone?

"Life is a locked door. Death is the key.

Death is a locked door. Life is the key."

• What is your favorite word?

Infinitesimal

• Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word heart.

Red mixed with black and white.

• What is a saying you say a lot?

What can you do when you live in a shoe

• What is the last song you listened to?

"Heavydirtysoul"

• Basic question, what is your favorite color?

Green

• What is your current desktop picture?

Hogwarts castle

• If you could press one button and make anyone in the world explode, who would it be?

*thinks to self* does my sleep paralysis demon count..?

• What would be a question you'd be afraid to tell the truth on?

It's not a matter of which question, it's a matter of who's asking it

• One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn the light on to find you are surrounded by mummies. The mummies arent really doing anything, they're just standing around your bed. What do you do?

Offer them some toilet paper, maybe they're here because the ones at the supermarket are still sold out.

• You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they grant you a superpower if your choice. What is that power?

Shapeshifting

• You can re-live any point in time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half hour experience would you like to experience again?

My first time watching the first scene in IT.

• You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

Fighting with both of my best friends

• You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

None. I'm asexual.

• You just got a free plane ticket anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

Venice, Italy

• Do you have any relatives in jail?

No

• Have you ever thrown up in the car?

Yes

• Ever been on a plane

No

• If the whole word we're listening to you right now. what would you say?

F**k Donald Trump

[thelovemints]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╰┈─➤ ❝ WALKING IN THE WIND ❞

((the gif doesn’t even fit the plot he’s just so beautiful sorry enjoy his visuals))

genre : angst? i don’t know

pairing : hwang hyunjin & reader

summary : in which you and hyunjin, best friends of 14 years, say goodbye. but it’s not the end. because you’ll see his face again.

listen to : walking in the wind by one direction

authors note : this is so bad and i apologize. it’s nighttime and i’m about to pass out from exhaustion (not really) but i wanted to publish this. by the way, it’s not edited at all so uhm sorry. also, it’s my first piece of writing on here so please don’t be mad if it’s bad? please please please give me constructive criticism on how to improve as a writer if you want to. i don’t mind. anyway, i cried writing this but i cry easily so don’t take my word that this is angst. but happy reading and thank you for reading!

───────────── ・ ・ ・ ・ ✦

when you first met hyunjin, you were five. you and your family were new in town without any acquaintances to help you settle in with ease but as a traditional family, you went to each of your neighbors and gave them rice cakes after hours of gruesome cooking (because you kept knocking over ingredients and cooling rice cakes on accident). the last people you gave rice cakes to was hyunjin. he, at the time, was also five years old and when you first saw him, you hid behind your mother’s leg. but your shyness immediately melted into nothingness when he gave you his signature heartwarming smile that you would come to love. and since then, you had been practically inseparable.

when you first realized you were in love with hyunjin, you were fourteen. puberty did all sorts of things to him (not that he need it) and you were head over heels. his voice was slightly lower and he matured but he was still the same hyunjin and he had the same smile you’ve loved to see since you were five.

when hyunjin first realized he was in love with you, he was fifteen. those were the times when life got tough and the pressure of high school finally started kicking in after a year. those were the times when he would stay up late with you watching the stars and admiring your beauty. those were the times when you would sit in silence beside him on the bus because just having each other’s presence was enough. those were the times when hyunjin would kiss your forehead and bring you soup whenever you were sick and lay with you watching old disney movies because you loved them and he loved you.

when you and hyunjin first started dating, you were sixteen. still inseparable, you and hyunjin spent more time with each other than ever before. he’d spend nights at your house half the week and you’d spend nights at your house the other half. and neither of your parents minded because you were in love with hyunjin and he with you.

when you first exchanged i love you’s you were only a month into your relationship but the words were true as any could be. and on that night, hyunjin kissed you for the first time and it felt wonderful. and when you went home that night, you were a smiling mess in front of your parents but little did you know, so was hyunjin.

when you first talked about your plans for the future, you were seventeen and almost out of high school. it was like a fantasy: first, you would both go to college. then you’d find a stable job in an ideal career line for the both of you and buy a house together. and after all that, you’d get married, maybe have children somewhere along the way, and grow old together by each other’s side. it seemed too magical to be real and yet there you were, in the corner of a cozy little café, holding hands with hyunjin while discussing your plans.

and now, here you were, 2 years later, in the same café, holding hands with hyunjin. the only thing was you were both teary eyed and the atmosphere was thick. there was only silence between the two of you as you stared into each other’s eyes wondering where did it all go wrong? you had been best friends for 14 years, you had been inseparable for 14 years so why now were you saying goodbye? you don’t even know what had happened between the two of you. you and hyunjin always said that you’d be together forever no matter how far you were from each other. and you thought that when you got your acceptance letter from a college on jeju island, you’d still be together with hyunjin forever. but fate had other plans. you hadn’t even left home yet but things were different. you hadn’t seen each other in days, only talked over the phone. and now, you sat before each other, tears falling from both of your faces in silence.

hyunjin sniffled, breaking the heavy silence, “we had some good times, didn’t we?”

his voice broke as he spoke and so did your heart as you nodded. you smiled weakly through falling tears, “we had some good tricks up our sleeves.”

hyunjin looked over at you, his lips wavering, “a week ago you said to me ‘do you believe i’ll never be too far?’ and i’ve been thinking about that.”

he paused, as if unsure of what to say. you nodded softly, prompting him to continue. he sniffled slightly and he whispered, “you’ll be far. you’ll be so far away. and i’m going to miss you.”

his voice broke again and he looked like he was going to bawl his eyes out on the spot. you gripped his hand tightly in yours and looked at him, “i won’t be far. if you’re lost just look for me and i’ll be in the region of the summer stars.”

hyunjin looked so broken and feeble before you, “i’ll see you again right?”

and then, your strength was gone as you let tears blur your vision. you nodded furiously, tears spilling. hyunjin wiped tears away with his thumb and you melted when he gave you his heartwarming smile, “promise me something baby. one day, we’ll see each other again. promise me that when we do, you’ll remember me.”

you melted into his touch and sighed peacefully, a constrast from what was happening. “i promise. i’ll always remember you, even if it’s in another life.”

hyunjin pressed his forehead to yours, tears drying on his face, “you know what?”

you hummed in response, a few tears still slipping from your eyes. “the fact that we can sit right here and say goodbye means we’ve already won.”

you only smiled when he said it. the next few minutes were spent in silence, reminiscing all of your happy memories together. and then, you stood up from the booth. you held your hand out to hyunjin, helping him up to a standing position too. you paid for your latte and hyunjin paid for his americano. before stepping out into the sunlight outside, you both stopped by the door. hyunjin cupped your face in his hands, “you will find me in places we’ve never been. for reasons we don’t understand, walking in the wind.”

and then, he kissed you. one last kiss before you parted ways. you were first to pull away but you made up for it by pulling him into a heartfelt hug. you leaned up to him and whispered in his ear, “goodbyes are bittersweet. but it’s not the end, i’ll see your face again.”

and with that, you were both out the door. you took one last glance at hyunjin and he at you before you let go of each other. you turned away from him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. and as you walked away, only then did you allow the tears to fall freely.

but as sad as you were, you knew this was for the best. after all, this is not the end. you’ll see his face again.

[wolfie-dragon-rider]

Bursts of Light, Day 18: Doing Something Together

It's been a while since i updated this, and I'm sorry for that. Got distracted with The Dragon Prince and HTTYD3 coming out. I am going to try to finish all prompts this month.

I hate to sound needy or whatever, but comments and reviews really help keep my motivation up. It's hard to keep writing these drabbles when it feels like no one cares about them. So please, if you enjoy it, take half a minute and tell me how you feel about this story =)

This chapter takes place a month after the events of Black as Night, when Hiccstrid's romantic relationship is still young.

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

Astrid wanted to scream in frustration. Her hands hurt, her fingers hurt, her scars hurt even more. It wasn't right. She was supposed to be healed already. It had been nearly two months since that horrible day on Dragon Island where she pulled the searing hot metal from Hiccup's foot, and even now she could still feel the fire in her hands.

She wondered if that was how Hiccup's leg felt. Or his eyes. But she didn't dare ask. The memories were still too fresh.

There were other memories too, of before, when her mother taught her how to sew clothes. Astrid had never been good at it as such, but today, picking it up for the first time in months, she felt like a baby who could barely control her hands.

Her fingers twitched and stiffened, the white scar tissue that snaked from the palm up to her fingertips spreading poison like Jormundgandr. It felt like the disgusting lines strangled her fingers, controlling them and turning them into useless thralls. Her thumb, the most damaged finger, contracted involuntarily, and the needle fell to the floor with a soft 'ping'. The melodic sound made her want to cry.

But she was a strong warrior, she wouldn't cry over something so stupid. It'd get better, that's what everyone kept saying. The scars were just on the skin, her muscles shouldn't have been affected.

Maybe it was all in her head, like Hiccup's phantom pains. Maybe it was her fear of losing her hands that made her actually lose her hands.

"Are you okay, love?" Kirsten said suddenly, and Astrid's head whipped up to see her mother standing right next to the chair she was sitting in.

"I'm fine," she muttered, picking up the needle again and avoiding her mother's eyes. She wouldn't understand.

"Are you sure? It's okay if you need a reminder of how to sew. It's not easy, and you haven't done it in a long time. We can do it together if you want," Kirsten said, pulling the other chair closer and sitting down.

"No, it's not that. I know how to do it. It's just… actually doing it is harder," she said, grabbing the yarn and trying to push the thread through the eye of the needle. Her hands shook, and she nearly dropped the needle again.

"Alright then. I'll just let you get to it then, and I'll get some more sewing supplies for myself. If you need anything at all I'll be at the marketplace, okay? And when I get back we can sew together!" Kirsten said, standing up again and pressing a kiss to her forehead. It made Astrid smile involuntarily.

Finally she managed to get the yarn through the needle as her mother opened the door to leave.

"Oh, Hiccup! Didn't expect you here. What a nice surprise!" Kirsten said, and Astrid's head whipped up to see her boyfriend standing awkwardly outside. One of his hands was raised, he had probably been about to knock.

"Hello, Mrs. Hofferson, hi! Uhm, is Astrid here?" he asked. One part of Astrid wanted to drop her sewing and just run over to greet him. But something inside her wanted to observe him, watch his movements and mannerisms when he didn't know she was there. It gave her a rare insight into his mind.

"Oh yes, she's inside, stabbing wool with her needles like it's a training dummy. Why don't you come in? I'm going to the market for a while, but I trust you two will be fine for a couple hours," Kirsten said, all but pulling the boy inside. Hiccup tripped on the threshold, but managed to recover before falling completely. It made her smile to see him improving so much. It had only been a month since he woke up without a leg, and he had come a long way since then.

"Alright, I promise I won't burn the house down," Hiccup chuckled, reaching his hand out to Toothless, who was sticking his head through the doorway. "You'll be careful, won't you, Toothless? No dragonfire inside houses, remember?"

Her mother, however, froze for a second at his words.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't joke about dragonfire in my house. Or around me or Tolfdir in general," she slowly said, walking out.

"Oh. I, uh, I'm sorry. I'll keep that in mind. Won't happen again!" Hiccup seemed to understand that this was not something he was supposed to ask about. Astrid didn't even know why her parents were so touchy about that subject. They sometimes hinted that their house had burned down long ago, before Astrid was even born, but she didn't understand why that affected them so much. Everyone on Berk had had their house burned down at some point, so what made her parents different?

"Astrid? You in here?" Hiccup called after the door shut, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Right here. Come in, I need moral support. My mother is making me sew again! It's the worst!" she shouted. Her hands didn't hurt so much anymore now that he was here.

"Oooookay. Not sure how helpful I'll be there, but I'll try. Come on, Toothless," Hiccup said, opening the door again to let his dragon in. Astrid jumped up in alarm. The yarn and needles fell to the floor.

"No no no no! No dragons in the house. My father would completely freak. Not kidding," she said, sighing when Hiccup's face fell. "Oh, don't make me feel like the bad guy here! I know Toothless is well-behaved… mostly. They don't let Stormfly inside either. Why don't you let him play with her. She's around the back, in her stable!" she said, gently pushing Toothless back outside.

The dragon looked annoyed at being separated from Hiccup, but perked up at the mention of Stormfly. Hiccup sighed, but eventually urged him to join the other dragon.

"Look, this just gives us some alone time! Come in, have a seat! Want something to drink?" she quickly said before Hiccup could get swamped in dark thoughts. Oh dear, this was pretty much the first time since the battle that they were truly alone. They had been basically boyfriend and girlfriend for a month now, though they hadn't really made it official yet. But despite all their time spent together, it was rarely private. Stoick would be there when Hiccup was relearning how to walk, and Gobber was always in the forge when she helped there. She would have liked to fly to distant islands with Hiccup, but his dad wouldn't allow that yet. His leg was far from healed.

"Oh, uhm, water is fine. Where's the chair?" Hiccup asked, carefully walking into the living room.

She guided him to the chair, then quickly ran outside to fill a mug with water from the rain barrel. While there, she glanced around the corner to see Toothless and Stormfly play-wrestle together. The sight made her smile.

"Here you go!" Astrid said as she handed the mug to Hiccup. "So, no forge work for you today?"

"No, we're out of coal. The shipment is late, so I'm free until we get more. How about you? Is this sewing stuff for someone in particular, or…" he awkwardly asked, making her blush. She knew he didn't mind, but it was always a little painful to be reminded that she nor her parents had truly steady jobs, and would take any work they could find to earn some extra money. That often included washing and repairing clothes for her mother, and construction work for her father.

"No, just… practice. Mother says that I need to learn 'so my future husband won't have to walk around naked!'" Astrid said, imitating her mother's voice. "Apparently he'd just be totally helpless and incapable of mending his own socks?"

Hiccup laughed, though she could see him frown under the blindfold as well. Was he thinking about himself as that future husband?

"Yeah, that's stupid. It's like cooking. Remember how I had to teach you to cook? Everyone expects it to be the other way around, but that doesn't have to be," he chuckled, taking a big gulp of water as Astrid picked up the yarn and needles again.

"True, but my mother still wants me to learn. And maybe she's right. Knowledge is always better than no knowledge," she eventually said. "Doesn't mean it isn't hard, though."

"Hmm, so the great Messenger of Thor, the prodigy of Berk, the greatest warrior in a generation, can't beat a ball of wool?" Hiccup teased, but she could sense the admiration underneath the sarcasm. It made her blush, and not for the first time she was glad he couldn't see that.

"You try it then, if you think it's easy! You know what, how about we make it a competition! The first to sew a patch of say, five inches by 4 inches wins," she offered, grabbing another ball of yarn and throwing it into Hiccup's lap. He nearly dropped his mug at the shock.

"Do you have to make everything a competition?" he exclaimed, but still picked up the yarn. Astrid grabbed his hand and put a needle in it.

"3… 2… 1… Go!" she said, before Hiccup could even begin to protest.

"Wait, wait, I've never started from scratch before! I've just mended torn clothes! Astrid!" he shouted, and she just chuckled.

"Better learn quickly then," she said, moving to push her thread through the eye of the needle.

"I… uh… okay… " Hiccup didn't look very okay, but he did manage to get his thread in that needle in less than a second while she was still trying to even grab the yarn correctly between her thumb and index finger. Her hand started aching again, and she tried not to groan. She was not gonna lose to Hiccup on this.

In the corner of her eye she saw Hiccup awkwardly try to tie the wool around itself, but she couldn't focus on it. Her fingers started shaking. The wool dropped to her lap, and she had to pick it up again, shifting her needle to her other hand. Maybe her left hand would be steadier.

It was no use. The more she tried, the more the needle shook, and the more frayed the thread became. Her vision became blurry and her jaw ached from how much she was clenching it.

"Astrid? Astrid! Astrid! Are you okay?" it took a minute before she realized Hiccup was kneeling right next to her chair, his hand on her elbow. Her breathing was shallow and quick. She blinked a few times to wipe the tears away. Why had she been crying? What happened?

"What?" she somehow managed to say.

"You got so quiet, you wouldn't talk, and your arm… it was shaking so much. What happened?" Hiccup rambled, clenching her arm. The needle fell in her lap. The ball of yarn followed, bouncing off to the floor and leaving a white thread where it had gone.

"I… I… I just… I'm okay. Don't worry about it," she said, shaking her head.

"How can I not worry! Something's wrong! Do I need to get your mom?" he shouted, barely holding it together.

"No, no, I'm just…" Astrid wanted to tell him she was fine, that it was nothing, that her hands didn't hurt and that she could do something as simple as sewing. But then she looked at him, at his blindfold and his metal leg, and she somehow knew he would understand.

"I can't do it. I can't sew. My hands hurt too much. It's the burns. It's stupid, it should all be healed by now, Gothi said it shouldn't affect my movement at all, but it still does! And I feel so damn useless! If I can't hold a needle, then can I even still hold an axe? I just-"

That's when Hiccup grabbed her hands in his, awkwardly rubbing his fingers over the back of them.

"Astrid, it's gonna be okay. We'll figure it out, okay? I don't think any less of you," he slowly said, and she knew every word was true.

"Oh, Hiccup," was all that she was able to say before sobs racked her body. She tried to pull her hands back, wanted to wipe her face and pretend she wasn't crying, but Hiccup moved too fast for that. He pulled her into a tight hug, and she nearly fell out of her chair. Her face was buried in his neck. His shirt was soft and warm, even as it absorbed her tears. Hiccup just rubbed her back, murmuring comforts in her ear.

Her hands were hovering behind his back, and then they were suddenly grabbing that soft shirt with all her strength. Her fingers still hurt, but it was almost like that stupid shirt was sucking away the pain.

Hiccup let her ride out the emotions, never showing any sign of disgust. She could tell he was nervous, but that was to be expected, she supposed. This was the first time he had initiated any physical contact.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked when her sobs stopped and she pulled back a bit.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Astrid blurted out, resisting the urge to punch him as punishment for inflicting all these feelings on her.

"I ask myself the same thing every day," he said, before ducking his blushing head. She gently grabbed it in her scarred hands.

"Thank you. For being here. For understanding."

"It's nothing. You've done the same thing for me for months," he whispered, looking small and vulnerable. It made her smile. Her white scars contrasted with his red blush, and she gently rubbed her thumb over his cheek.

"I'm sorry this wasn't very… Viking-like," she eventually said, and he chuckled.

"I'm just glad I'm not the bad Viking today. But seriously… these injuries… they hurt. I know that, you know that, even if the rest of the village doesn't. So you can always tell me. And we'll help each other. I can help with the sewing. Here, let me just ready the needle and thread for you," he said, leaving her grasp to feel the floor. She quickly handed the items to him.

Astrid watched in fascination as he handled the needle and thread. His fingers were so precise and gentle. She supposed he had to rely on them a lot more with his blindness, but it was still amazing to see.

"How about you hold the needle, and I tell you how to move?" she said, putting her hands over his. His skin was cool against her scars, and it eased the pain.

"Okay," Hiccup awkwardly said, getting nervous again. She rolled her eyes at his unnecessary worrying before nudging his hands.

"So you start out with this central thread you weave these side threads into. That's gonna be the basis of our cloth," she said, holding his thumb and guiding the wool around a finger on his other hand. "Careful you don't prick yourself. Mother doesn't want any blood on this wool."

Hiccup let her guide his hands, though he took over when a new piece of wool had to go through the needle, or the thread had to go under or over another thread in a way her fingers simply couldn't do.

And so hours passed, and neither of them noticed the door silently opening. Kirsten peeked around the door, suppressing her laugh when she saw their hands working together to create one pattern.

"Just like the Norns weaving the tapestry of fate," she whispered to herself, quietly putting the bag of groceries inside before leaving the house as silently as she entered. Those kids deserved some more time to themselves to do something together, just the two of them.

[wheresmynaya]

Two Ghosts Ch.3 | Brittana

Hey, thanks everyone for following along! Also on Fanfiction (x)

 On the day of the funeral, Santana finally attempts to start her little Honda that’s been parked in the garage for way too long despite Maribel offering her car for Santana to use. It takes her three tries and plenty of furious pumping of the gas pedal before the car rumbles to life and she sits there patting the dashboard, thanking her for starting.

There is a surprising amount of people at the service: from reporters to news anchors Santana recognizes from TV, old teachers and other coaches from high school, and a mix of Sue’s family and friends. Santana even recognizes Becky Jackson from afar, dressed in an all black track suit, her eyes puffy and red, as she cradles Sue’s iconic megaphone in her hands. Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury are there as well and just seeing them really brings her back to her high school days.

Subconsciously, she scans the crowd for Brittany with a mix of anticipation and dread but she spots a different blonde instead. Quinn’s standing alone towards the side and Santana quickly makes her way towards her, avoiding eye contact as she passes others in hopes of being unrecognizable.

They stand together in silence as several people close to Sue go up to speak, but it’s not until Becky begins that Santana starts to feel tears at the corners of her eyes. Becky’s voice cracks every so often as she talks about how much she looked up to Sue and it looks like she’s barely holding it together. Santana can’t imagine what that must feel like, to lose your best friend forever. Her mind drifts back to Brittany and although they aren’t speaking she at least knows Brittany’s somewhere out in the world living her life and it’s so much better than the alternate.

A couple months after she had moved to New York, after a night of attempting to drown her sorrows with a bottle of vodka, Santana thought about what she would do if she ever got the call about Brittany. She didn’t understand why her mind drifted in that direction, but she knew she couldn’t picture life knowing Brittany wasn’t around. Not like how it was with Santana in New York and Brittany in Ohio, and Santana struggling to acclimate without Brittany around, because she managed to do that. It wasn’t easy, but she found a way.

But with Brittany gone completely? Santana couldn’t cope with that.

She didn’t touch vodka for an entire year in hopes that she’d never have that thought again.

 \\

 It’s not until the speeches are finished and everyone begins to leave that Santana finally sees her.

She’s got her blonde hair braided back into a bun and Santana watches with awe as she tucks a lose strand of hair behind her ear. Even considering the circumstances, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks never looked so beautiful on someone. She’s stunning in her midnight blue button up and black sheer skirt, but the dark colors are so misplaced on the blonde. She’s used to Brittany’s usual mix of quirky patterns and bright colors, but she reminds herself that they’re different people now and maybe her style has changed now too.

Or it could just be that they’re at a funeral and dark colors are usually the dress code?

Regardless, Santana can’t take her eyes off her as Brittany wades through the crowd, she just can’t get over how close she is to her, the closest she’s been a long time. She feels her whole demeanor shift in her presence but she can’t help it, Brittany has always had that effect on her.

Suddenly she has the urge to move closer, to break all the rules she’s made for herself, and make contact. Maybe just to say hi? Maybe just to count one last smile?

But then a taller blonde catches up to her, still ever so trouty, and he pulls a handkerchief from his suit jacket pocket and hands it to Brittany. She gives him a small smile and dabs under her eyes and Santana’s heart lurches. She can’t believe Sam Evans is still in the picture after all this time. How could he be any better than she was? It should’ve been her there to console Brittany and let her cry on her shoulder, not Sam fucking Evans.

           Santana remembers telling Brittany the last time they spoke that she wanted her to aim higher than Trouty Mouth because Brittany deserved the whole God damn world and even though Santana couldn’t give her that at the time, she knew for a fact Sam wouldn’t do any better. And sure, maybe that last visit was fueled by a tiny little bit of jealous because it was Sam and Brittany didn’t even have the decency to tell her about them herself and that hurt.

If Santana needed to be around people who are like her and appreciate her, so did Brittany.

But apparently not.

Santana begins to fill with a mix of rage and hurt and she sort of wants to run off and cry and maybe scream at some loser but then she feels a nudge from Quinn and she’s able to look away.

Once again, she’s thankful she has this new version of Quinn by her side.

           “There’s a luncheon at the community center,” Quinn mentions as Santana’s eyes settle on her, a little dazed. She can tell that Quinn’s noticed who she was staring at and she’s grateful for her attempt in distracting her, “Not really up for it, how about you?”

           Santana wonders if Brittany and Sam would be there then decides she doesn’t want to find out. Maybe she’s being a little petty, but she couldn’t think of anything worse than to be in the same room as them.

She shakes her head, “Sounds lame. Let’s get drunk instead.”

           Quinn lets out a laugh, “I think it’s still a little early for that. How about brunch? I’m craving bacon.”

           Santana rolls her eyes but follows after Quinn as they head back to the parking lot. Other than seeing Brittany and Sam together, she’s kind of proud that she was able to dodge running into anyone she knew. She just didn’t want to deal with answering all the questions and explain what she’s been doing this whole time and why Quinn is beside her and not Brittany.

She rather be invisible.

           But sadly, she isn’t.

She finds that out the hard way when their path crosses with Brittany and Sam’s because of fucking course they would run into each other.

She tries to turn away and quickly duck behind a group of people walking by, but it’s too late. Piercing blue eyes zero in on her and she’s frozen in her place, there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Her feet feel like cement as she tries to remember all the lines she practiced in the mirror the night before incase this moment were to happen, but her mind goes completely blank.

           Quinn glances to her side and sees that Santana’s a deer in the headlights.

           “Jesus, Santana.” Quinn half-jokingly chastises, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  

           Santana just gulps. In a way, she kind of has.

           Brittany and Sam near and she’s glad Quinn’s cheerfulness overcompensates for Santana’s awkwardness.

           “Hey Brittany!” Quinn greets first as she leans in for a hug. Brittany smiles and it’s another blow for Santana, because she’s still so perfect, but blue eyes keep shifting from Quinn to her. Quinn pulls away and squeezes Brittany’s shoulders, causing Brittany to avert her eyes and look at Quinn again, “It’s been so long.”

           Brittany nods, eyes flickering from Quinn to Santana again then back to Quinn, “It really has.”

           “Hey Santana. Hey Quinn.” Sam greets next from behind Brittany and leans in towards Quinn for a hug. Santana almost forgot he was there, but he looks at Santana a little wearily and Santana kind of finds strength in that. He quickly directs his attention to Quinn as he says, “It’s good to see you. How have you been?”

           Quinn’s answer is drowned out as Brittany steps around Sam and moves closer to Santana. Her heart is racing and she feels like she’s about to pass out, but Brittany smiles shyly at her again and the world stops.

That’s the second smile so far.

           “Hi.” She says timidly.

           “Hey Britt.” Santana replies, the nickname tumbling from her lips effortlessly.

           They stand there in silence, the awkward tension between them so thick that all the other conversations around them drown in it. Her lips part, but nothing comes out. After all these years, Brittany’s still able to turn her to mush and Santana kind of hates her for that.

           But not really, she could never truly hate her.

           She suddenly has the need to hug her, but that might be too much too soon and Sam’s right there and that might be crossing a line or something.

But it’s just a hug? And at one point in time they were best friends so it shouldn’t be that big of an issue? Then again, they were more than friends at one point in time too.

It’s all so very sudden and it’s too much for Santana to work through all at once. She’s still taking in all the subtle changes in Brittany; the little smile lines that have deepened and the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She wants to say something, anything to end the awkward silence but she’s struggling to form the words so they just stare at each other, the weight of the past five years weighing heavily on their shoulders.

           “So uhm..are you guys going to the luncheon?” Brittany manages to ask.

           “We weren’t going to.” Santana answers and notices how Brittany’s smile falters.

           “Oh.” Is all Brittany says as she nods then looks back to Sam, “I think Sam and I are just going to say hi to everyone then maybe go to Lima Bean.”

           Santana nods too, “That’s cool.”

           “Yeah.”

           Another round of awkward silence settles around them, Santana focusing on Sam and I and it really starts to take a toll on her how they’re still Sam and I. Who would’ve thought they would’ve lasted this long? Santana sure didn’t and that makes her feel like kicking herself because that could’ve been her. Maybe?

Quinn turns away from Sam and gives Santana this analyzing look. She stares back but Quinn’s already saying something about a nail appointment she and Santana had scheduled that they should really be heading off for.

           Santana doesn’t remember scheduling any nail appointment though, but she’s thankful for the way out.

           “Well it was nice seeing you, Santana.” Brittany says and Santana hadn’t realized she missed the way her name sounds leaving those lips.

           “You too.” Santana replies and she itches to reach out and touch her, to see if this is really happening or if it’s just a dream.

           Brittany smiles one last time, the third one she can add to her list, before saying her goodbyes to Quinn and then she and Sam turn away in the direction of the parking lot. She can’t help but feel a familiar twinge of pain as she watches her leave once again. It’s too familiar for her liking and she sucks in a deep breath to ground herself.

           “Is it still too early for that drink?” Santana questions, jaw tensing.

           Quinn lets out a shallow breath and pats Santana’s shoulder, “I think we’ve earned an early start.”

[krreader]

BTS reacting to medical!reader

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: medical!reader (e.g. nurse, doctor etc.) ; hospitals ; smoking ; language genre: fluff ; crack ; maybe a hint of smut?

a/n: I’m all for doctor!au’s so this is like my jam hahaha

ask box | masterlist | fandoms | faq | multifandom reader blog

kim seokjin

Jin really felt like a huge reason as to why he recovered so quickly was the fact that he had you by his side.

He knew that nurses were often not as much appreciated as doctors were, but for him, you did more than any doctor ever could have. Because you weren't just treating him like a patient, but as a human being with feelings. You listened to his worries and you laughed at his dad jokes, which turned out to be a rather wonderful medicine.

So even though he had already been discharged, he waited in the parking lot of the hospital with a bouquet of flowers only two weeks later and smiled when you left the building, putting on your coat and walking over to your car.

“Jin?” you laughed as you walked closer, “Is.. is that you?”

“It is,” he grinned.

“God.. almost didn't recognize you without the hospital gown. How are you feeling?”

“I'm really good. Thank you again for all your hard work.”

“It's quite alright. It's my job after all.”

“Maybe,” he handed you the bouquet with the most beautiful smile you had ever seen in your life, “Still.. these are for you. For everything you did.”

“Oh.. thank you.. I never get flowers..,” you inspected them carefully as you giggled and looked back up at him, “But they're beautiful, really. So thank you.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me? As.. you know.. as in a date? And as a thank you, of course?”

“You want to go out with me?”

“Is that so unbelievable?”

“Well.. look at you,” you looked down at yourself, still in your work clothes, “And then me.”

“I don't know.. I still see the most beautiful woman in the world standing in front of me.”

“Oh god,” you chuckled and hooked your arm with his, “Alright then, Casanova. Lead the way.”

min yoongi

He was just minding his own business, waiting outside the hospital for Jimin to finally come out, when he suddenly heard: “You do realize that stuff kills you, right?”

Yoongi looked up, finding someone in a white coat standing in front of him with her head cocked to the side.

“A bus could hit me too, doesn't mean I don't go out anymore,” he murmured, his cigarette still between his lips.

“Maybe,” you walked over to him, a small smile playing on your lips, “But take it from someone who has seen the effects that smoking has? You really should stop. You've got great teeth from what I can see, a great complexion and you look like someone who's enjoying himself sexually.”

Yoongi laughed, finally taking it out of his mouth to wet his lips with his tongue, “Do I?”

“Yeah.. and your future partners won't enjoy themselves in the slightest if you don't have any stamina left after five minutes because you've been smoking so much.”

“What do you know about my stamina then, doc?”

“Let's just say I've got a good eye,” you grinned.

“I could just take you out.. and you could see for yourself..”

“You could do that,” you took one more step and he thought you would kiss him for a second, but instead, you grabbed the cigarette out of his hands and bit your lower lip, “But I don't like guys that smoke.”

And with that you turned around on your heel and walked back into the hospital.

And even though he had been smoking for years, he thought about giving it up, just so he had a shot with you.

And guess what? He did.

jung hoseok

The first couple of seconds he didn't know where he was, what was going on.. didn't even really know who he was.

He didn't remember what had happened and why he felt so.. weird.

Hoseok's vision was blurry, but all of sudden, something that looked a lot like a face appeared in front of him. A smiling one.

“Hey there,” your voice was soft, but cheerful, “You don't have to worry, okay? You're in the hospital and I just finished your surgery. You're probably feeling a little dizzy and weird right now but that's completely normal, I promise. Try to get some more sleep, alright? And I'll talk to you again when you wake up.”

He could barely make out what you were saying.. all he could focus on was your smile.

And when he woke up, hours later, still high on the pain killers, he couldn't help but ask the nurse.

“Did you see her too?”

“See who, darling?”

“The angel.. there was an angel.”

The nurse started smiling and chuckling soon after, “You mean your surgeon? Doctor (Y/L/N)?”

“She.. she was an angel. I'm sure of it.”

kim namjoon

“Calm down, hyung, it's probably not that bad,” Jimin walked over to him, putting one hand on his shoulder, “You'll be able to perform next week, I'm sure of it.”

Whatever worries he had, they vanished the second the door got opened and were replaced by completely different ones.

“Mister.. Kim? Kim Namjoon?” you looked up from the file and closed the door when he nodded, walking over to a gawking Namjoon and extending your hand, “I'm Doctor (Y/L/N).”

“H..- Hi,” this day, Namjoon found out he had a new kink to add to his kink list. Unfortunately, it really was the wrong time to find that out.

“It says here that you fell during practice? So it's the ankle?”

He just stared at you like a moron and Yoongi had to nudge his side for him to clear his throat and nod, “Y-Yes. That's right.”

“Alright, then,” you pulled the chair closer and took a look at his foot, “You let me know if it hurts, okay?”

“That's usually my line,” he mumbled.

“Sorry?”

“Huh? What?” his eyes widened, not having realized that he had said that out loud, “No, no, it's okay. I will.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but continued to examine his foot.

In the end it really wasn't as bad as it looked and he would definitely be able to perform again soon.

But even though he entered the examination room with one problem, he left with two, and Yoongi couldn't help but clap him on the back and laugh, before saying: “There's a bathroom over there. We'll wait for you if you want to take care of your problem before we leave. Or do you want me to ask the pretty doctor if she could help you out?”

“With all due respect, hyung? Fuck off,” but in all honesty? 

He would like nothing more than that.

park jimin

“Uhm.. Doctor (Y/L/N)?”

“Hm?” you didn't look up from the file you were reading, sipping your coffee at the same time.

“These.. Bangtan Boys. The band.. could it be that one of them has a major crush on you?”

“What?” you laughed and looked up at the nurse, “How come?”

“Well..” she looked at something behind you. And when you turned around you realized that it wasn't a something, but a someone.

Jimin, to be more precise. Who, for some reason, wore a suit today and looked incredibly attractive, no doubt in that. He had been flirting with you ever since one of his band members had become one of your patients, but it almost seemed like he wanted to impress you today.

“Doctor,” he smiled seductively as he past you and followed the into the room that their band member was in, while you could only stare at him with an open mouth.

The second the door was closed however, he turned to them and began to panic, “Oh my god, it was too much, wasn't it? She's going to think I'm weird and now she won't ever talk to me again and..- oh my god, what have I done, I just ruined it all!”

And even though you had promised yourself never to do this, ever in your life, you ended up slipping him his number at the end of the day. That guy has tried so hard, it was time that his efforts finally paid off.

kim taehyung

The nurse before had told him to wait in the outside area of the cafe, so now here he was, surrounded by beautiful flowers and the sun shining down on him, while his throat hurt like crazy after the surgery.

“Mister.. Kim?” he turned his head, squinting his eyes up at you, before they widened when he saw how pretty you looked.

He wanted to get up, wanted to bow and be respectful, but in the haste of getting up, the chair fell back and he almost blacked out. Not a good idea to get up that quickly when surgery hasn't been that long ago.

You helped him sit back down, before joining him at the table and handing him some ice cream, “My colleague had an emergency, so I'll spend the rest of the day with you, if that's alright?”

“Eating.. eating ice cream together?”

“Mhm,” you raised your own up with a happy smile, “It'll help your throat.”

Well, he could imagine much worse things to do than eating ice cream with a pretty nurse and getting to know her in the process. And before he knew it, he spent his entire stay here with you, playing games, talking, eating ice cream..

..so as unhappy as he had been before the surgery about it, he walked away with the number of a nurse that he otherwise never would have met, so he was quite alright with it afterwards.

jeon jeongguk

He was bored. Just so freaking bored.

Racing himself and trying to see how fast he can go up and down the hallways of the hospital was his only entertainment at this point.

If it wasn't for his pretty physio therapist that stopped him every damn time.

You cleared your throat and crossed your arms in front of your chest, while cocking your head to the side with a smirk and Jeongguk had to basically slam on the breaks not to roll you over.

“What did I tell you about not racing?”

You weren't mean about it, you only ever pretended to scold him, because you knew that it was no use. You knew how bored he must be and you didn't hold it against him. You’d be too..

“I'm sorry, (Y/N),” but like every time, he lowered his head in shame.

You let out a sigh and raised your hand to look at your watch.

“I've got fifteen minutes. I can take you outside, if you want to? We could do some more walking exercises?”

“Really?” his eyes widened when he was looking back up at you

“If you promise me to be more careful.”

He nodded like a child on Christmas and if his legs worked properly, he would have bounced up and down, probably.

He really hit the jackpot with you as his physio therapist. The only reason why this hospital didn’t fully suck.

[captainreecejames]

Calamity pt 3

Life carried on. 

Christian and YN grew up from the 20 year-olds. Christian and Maggie became a serious couple in London, Christian playing for Chelsea and Maggie doing whatever she did. YN tried not to pay attention to them, but it was hard. She had yet to make it out of Hershey, PA after graduating from college, and most people thought they were still close, asking her questions about Christian. YN would just smile and nod, telling them Christian was good, sharing whatever news she heard from his family.

It sucked that they had a similar line of work too; she was the trainer for the high school she graduated from, but it didn’t pay that well. She was still living in her parents house, trying to save up enough money and experience to move on with her life in a different city. Get away from the constant reminders of Christian and how close they once were.

Her parents were understanding, always reminding her of when Christian was coming home, but it was predictable. A footballer’s schedule was common knowledge, they worked August to May for their club and intermittently for the national team if they were lucky. The summer was mostly international tournaments and a few breaks, so she knew that she was safe. She had the Chelsea app on her phone anyway, just to see how the Blues were doing.

YN remembered the one year when they were kids where he went to play in England and how he came back after that with a new light in his eyes, saying that playing in the Premier League was now his goal. She admired that about him, always knowing what he wanted and having the strength to go get it.

God, she felt so lazy. Sitting there on her bed scrolling through the current transfer rumors of the week with a bowl of popcorn next to her. She knew that this was a rabbit hole, but she couldn’t stop herself.

A new story popped up and she clicked on it, reading some news about Christian already signing a deal to move to Barcelona. She laughed, thinking about Christian having to learn Spanish for a move to Barcelona.

It was so funny that she opened her phone and texted him ‘Hola, nice to meet the newest Barca signing. Can’t wait to meet the legend himself, Lionel Messi.” She completely forgot they hadn’t spoken to each other in months, practically a year when he came home for a short break.

‘Oh no, you saw that rumor too? It’s not true.’ he responded.

‘Damn, i really wanted messi to sign my ass. It was my greatest dream.’ 

‘Not david beckham?’

‘no, that was my boobs you dumbass’

‘shit, now i remember. sorry about that.’

‘It’s gucci. how’s everything at the bridge?’

‘you mean you’re not stalking my every move? you don’t know that i scored a hattrick against arsenal?? I’m hurt’ 

‘Noice! But no, haven’t really been keeping up with any pro sports, i’ve got enough with these horny teenagers at the school.’ She felt guilty, like she was lying to him, but it just felt easier this way. 

‘that’s right, you work for the high school now. how’s the #10 doing?’

‘he’ll never live up to the pulisic #10 if that’s what your asking.’

‘good, didn’t want to have to come and take back my rightful spot.’

‘oh no, now i’ve gone and inflated your ego. uhm...’

'i'm coming home in a day.'

That stopped YN from typing out her witty response to try and 'deflate his ego.' It brought her crashing down to reality. Where she remembered that he had a girlfriend and she hadn't moved on with her life since he left for Dortmund almost 10 years ago.

'cool' is what YN went with.

'we should grab some coffee and catch up.'

'yeah, that would be great.'

YN looked down at the time on her computer, mentally adding five hours to know what time it was for him.

'Don't you need to sleep or something?'

'Haven't been able to sleep recently.' There was a few seconds between his two texts, which changed a lot of things for them. 'Maggie broke up with me.'

wc: 750ish

okay this is kinda insane, i didn’t think there was gonna be this much to this story but i wanted to end this part before it went long.

@maximillis

[benigxtcr]

the nerves were practically written in bright neon colours into the lines and features of ben’s face, the attempt of a polite smile sitting crooked on his lips as if it was part of a faulty code. he hadn’t done anything. he knew he hadn’t done anything serious, least of all in a direct approach towards winnie. however, in the same nerve-wrecking horror which had him skip through the security gates of stores and airports ( which never went off, but he still expected it as if he himself was made of metal ), he rushed through the local police department, already ready to get this over with.

one. is this the first time you’ve been called to the precinct? do you have a criminal record?

a long pause of silence followed the first and presumably under any normal circumstances the easiest question, benjamin’s eyes staring blankly off into the distance as if his brain had frozen into place. “ i– i– i– “ he started, stuttering as his mind seemed to only slowly reboot again, “ i have never been here !! but i – and i promise. in fact, i will swear an oath if necessary !! that it was never malevolent, let alone with the criminal intent of harming anyone in any way, shape or form – will have an entry registered for ‘ trespassing ‘, recorded about eight months, two weeks and a few days ago. it was for a treasure hunt !! — well, not as much treasure as merely a hunt for what turned out to be a scrap piece of metal, but a scrap piece of metal hunt? doesn’t sound quite as alluring, does it? not that that matter’s right now... i guess... i guess, it doesn’t. “ because this was about winnie and not about him — not yet, anyway.

two. where were you during the evening of ms. winnipeg sanders’ disappearance? specifically between the hours of 8 and 11 pm?

a breathless huff which could almost resemble a self-ironic smile, because as obvious as the question had been, he’d hoped it would not come. “ when was it? “ the twenty-third of february, which by easy math was a saturday, and ( as odd as it may sounded, considering he was able to give the exact span of time for other events in the pasts ) that was about everything ben knew for sure. “ i was– “ he inhaled deeply, the breath shaking in his lungs, “ i was at the benbow inn !! all the way between eight and eleven. “ or at least he was about ninety percent sure he had been there. 

three. can you describe what you were doing immediately before that?

“ yes !! yes, of course. “ his head went into an immediate series of fast and frequent nods, showing the very willingness he did, matter of fact, have for answering any and all of their questions with the sincerity they wished for — unfortunately, he never remembered many details about specific dates and meetings, let alone when he had many memories with a certain person. they simply blended together; he knew everything about his best friend but it was a mere impossibility to remember a date. “ again, i was at the benbow inn, “ he muttered, hands lifting to rub his temples in an attempt to remember, his glasses pushing up in the process, “ jim and i –  that’s jim hawkins and i – were... “ a pause which was filled with the desperate exhaustion of a sigh. “ we were helping out. saturdays are, on average, the most visited days within a lot of restaurants and stores. “ which, by mere coincidence, was the complete base of his assertion: by simple probability, he had most likely been there.

four. can anyone confirm your whereabouts at this time?

his eyelids fluttered, head falling into another nod as he looked up again, hands sinking to wipe his sweating palms at his jeans. “ yeah, yeah... sure. “ and he knew he would be able to name jim once again — even if he hadn’t been in the benbow inn that night, ben was basically certain his friend would stand up for him and agree to whatever had to be agreed to ( in a way, they already had agreed on just that, hadn’t they? ), however that was the very problem ben had with it. he didn’t want to drag jim into his memory based problems. “ oh !! “ a jolt went through his shoulders, his back straightening from his slumped defensive position as he suddenly felt he’d kept silent for too long: “ everyone who was temporarily resident at the benbow inn for the time being. unfortunately, i would not know who exactly it was. “

five. how well did you know ms. winnipeg sanders?

ben paused, eyes narrowing and his knee jumping as he considered their words and whatever may be the most genuine answer to them. “ the description of ‘ well ‘ is indefinitely relative, isn’t it? “ he mused aloud, his shoulders lifting momentarily, “ i know her name is winnipeg sanders, and i know that winnipeg is the capital and largest city of the province of manitoba in canada, but i never asked whether that’s what her name is based on. furthermore, i of course have the knowledge that she owned a bakery and she had legendary self-made honey based baked goods !! i asked for the recipe for her honey muffins once, but she politely declined which i understand. it’s a family recipe. i don’t actually know whether she has a family though. i mean, she obviously would have to have parents of some sort but i do not recall ever meeting or hearing of a spouse or a relative — what was the question again? “ how ( well ) did he know her? right. “ i would consider her an acquaintance with a positive foundation, leading to friendly but mainly on the surface conversations. “

six. did you and ms. winnipeg sanders ever have beef, or a quarrel? have there been moments where you wished – even if it were just in the heat of the moment – to inflict harm on her?

“ oh god, no !! “ for once, there was no hesitation within his answer or the obvious struggle of remembering the truth. he didn’t need to think twice. “ i would never want to hurt anyone !! we are all merely carbon based life forms. i don’t believe in the existence of real reasons to harm anyone or anything, mentally or physically. “

seven. what was your reaction when you heard about the news?

“ i uhm... “ another sigh pushed past his lips, his thumb moving to scratch over a stain of oil on his jeans. the truth felt harsh to say, but it was the truth nonetheless and he knew only the truth would help the investigation. “ i don’t have any real emotional attachment to her..? i don’t want to say i felt indifferent – i don’t believe i did – but the interval of my sympathy was a little short. i have had the experience that people leave sometimes, some of them rather abruptly as well and without any prior warnings. i suppose, based on the experience alone, it was – to me, it still is, i guess – more likely that ms sanders decided to leave sunnyside. she would not be the first. i have my doubts that she’ll be the last. “

eight. when was the last time you saw ms. winnipeg sanders? did you notice anything different about her?

ben had never been one to curse in his life – consider him child friendly, if you will – and yet he could not quite help the quiet ‘ fuck ‘ from tumbling off his lips as his head fell into his hands. the exasperation was visible in his shoulders and the features on his face, the tension tugging at his muscles in his neck. “ i don’t know — i wish i knew !! i do !! i just– “ he shrugged. it had never seemed important to him to remember where winnie out of everyone was. by probability, she stood behind the counter of her bakery and truly, that was the only place where she genuinely mattered to him —  either she was there and he could have a coffee or she wasn’t and he had to get one somewhere else. it was a simple yes or no question and he had never wondered, let alone bothered using some of his brain’s capacity to memorise where she was if she wasn’t in the baker. “ i have a bit of a memory problem. “

nine. do you know anyone who may have had any problems with her ? do you know anyone who may have had it out for her?

his lips parted, taking a deep breath as if to start another one of his on going sentences and end in the ramblings he was so very well known for. however, instead of responding to the answer in an entire monologue, ben in a rather unusual fashion chose to answer with only a single word: “ no. “

ten. have you noticed anything peculiar since the disappearance? anything special you think is worth mentioning?

his head came to shake slowly, shoulders lifting once again into the suggestion of a shrug. “ nothing, “ he muttered under his breath, a long pause of silence following yet another single worded answer. “ i am sorry. i really am !! can i leave now? if we are done here, i would like to leave. “