#it will definitely mess up my huge list of books I need to read next *ahem blood of Olympus

[willyoubemydarling]

I’m on the verge of giving in somebody needs to convince me to read tcoptp 😭🙏

[chocolatemilk139]

the do or die part

reader x mingyu

summary: There are only a few things Actor Kim Mingyu really has to worry about: 1. Making sure Soonyoung doesn’t murder the writer with a set prop 2. Making sure his manager doesn’t murder HIM with a set prop 3. Making sure a serial killer doesn’t murder them all. Seungcheol would argue it’s highly unlikely he’ll ever cross a serial killer, ever, but the FBI’s crime stats would beg to differ. He could prove it with the right book research. He’s definitely going to the bookstore every day instead of memorizing lines for research purposes only and NOT because he wants to kiss the owner. Definitely not that.

genre: fluff, barely-there-angst, actor au, non idol au, bookstores, mingyu being great at acting but terrible at flirting

warnings: no actual serial killer, tiny angst?, mingyu probably needs a therapist (but he’s okay guys), fear of heights

word count: 16.2k

a/n: hi! Accidentally found this sitting in my docs half-finished and decided to gift it to my bff for her birthday! Told from Mingyu’s perspective because it was a little too fun to write that way. Anyways I hope you enjoy reading this mess <3

——————

don’t read the last page (i want your midnights)

Of all the places to film a romcom they chose the one seaside town without a consistent weather pattern, right next to the sea but not the beach, and filled with those small town personalities that despise anything that causes a disturbance to their generations of peace and quiet. What else could be more of a disturbance than having a 300 person crew park their lives in your town for a whole month of filming and take up the one usable paved road for 12 hours of filming what would only be about 30 minutes of usable footage. Mingyu would hate himself if the roles were reversed. It’s why he doesn’t do anything but smile and apologize again (in that really small voice he shrinks into frequently) when the barista gives him nothing but a glare of murderous intent after he knocks over the tip jar in an attempt to take his latte. He wonders if she would appreciate him handing her a list of tips to get away with his murder (complete with his hotel room number for easy access). He’s listened to enough CrimeJunkies to be confident he could come up with a pretty foolproof plan. Seungcheol would say something like that is just another side effect of the Self-Sacrificing Kim Mingyu Need to Throw Himself Off a Cliff to Get People to Like Him. What’s wrong with seeking approval, hyung? He’s an actor for a reason, for God’s sake.

“And you probably only became an actor for that reason,” Soonyoung points out. Mingyu throws the straw wrapper (paper straw, because he’s not some monster) at his face because even if it’s mostly true, he doesn’t need his lifelong leech of a best friend to point it out.

“All I want is to be in a movie with some crime and a serial killer,” Mingyu sighs (half of what Soonyoung says doesn’t deign a proper response), “Is that too much to ask?”

“Apparently,” Soonyoung snorts. “Why don’t you plan something useful like how to murder Mr. Jeon?”

“It’s not his fault really,” Mingyu says, immediately on the defensive, “he’s just the writer, he doesn’t have a huge say on who they hire for the movie.” It’s not entirely true, but he knew that sucking up to Wonwoo maybe wasn’t the best shot at getting cast for his new (CRIME!) piece he’s working on. Wonwoo is still nice though, buys Mingyu’s morning coffee to replace the original one he inevitably spills and/or loses, and he’s still working on something he’s written. A Korean-American romcom, of course, painfully devoid of serial killers. He should be thankful to be the second male lead, he can finally add in another donation.

Soonyoung lets out a long, exasperated sigh (as he’s wont to do with any mention of Jeon Wonwoo, Wonwoo Jeon whatsoever). “Fine, fine, if you want to defend that scumbag of a man I won’t stop you. But if he even speaks to me after living off your cooking for two months and still not giving you that role I promise to take a knife–”

Mingyu immediately shoves the bagel into Soonyoung’s mouth. “If you say any more I no longer have deniability in court.”

In between coughing and glaring at Mingyu he rolls his eyes.

. . .

They wind up back at set, inevitably, because there is no such thing as a real break. Unless you are Jeonghan. He finds him sleeping in a foldable chair behind one of the food trucks that Leigh ordered. His female co-star is in the middle of some familial drama scene between her and her mother (he can hear the shouting across the street which he assumes is the goal). If anything this is less a romcom than an exploration of the Korean American woman’s identity from the point of view of an aspiring lawyer in a small town. But it’s easier to say romcom.

Mingyu shoves Jeonghan’s shoulder lightly to wake him and is faced with the groggy glare of his manager.

“Is someone dying?” he asks gruffly. Mingyu merely smiles.

“No, but the director said I have to be ready to go in thirty minutes for the next scene,” he says lightly.

“Did you read your lines?” Jeonghan asks, eyes already fluttering shut. Mingyu hums. “Okay, well, you are a big boy, you can find your way to the makeup and hair trailer,” he replies, patting Mingyu’s knee softly before leaning back further into his chair. Mingyu huffs but leaves him be. Logically he could hire a more…enthusiastic manager, but at this point it would be a waste. And he can’t exactly say he doesn’t mind someone not controlling every aspect of his life. Jeonghan said he used to work for a kpop group in Seoul before they disbanded and it was the worst, most stressful six months of his life. Somehow that translated to him becoming the most lackadaisical manager Mingyu had ever met. Still, he gets the contracts signed and somewhere underneath his disinterested persona, Mingyu knows he genuinely cares. Somehow.

Dokyeom and Minghao are already in the trailer with brushes in their hands when Mingyu knocks. Minghao pulls him into the chair with a “You’re late,” and Dokyeom moves over to the clothes rack, shifting through the shirts.

“Nice to see you guys too,” Mingyu sing-songs.

“Hi,” Minghao scowls. “DK, hand me the one with 43 on the side.”

“What’s this scene, again?” Dokyeom asks even as he hands one of the palettes to Minghao.

“Taking Lee and her grandma out for lunch,” Mingyu offers with a grin.

Minghao snorts. “You’re lucky you are supposed to look like a borderline farmhand half the time. Does your character even have a solid job?”

“Uh, resident handyman?”

“Anything that gives him an excuse to take off his shirt,” Minghao says, then, “Get him the blue flannel.”

Dokyeom holds it up from the rack and Mingyu catches a glimpse in the mirror. “Oo, can I–”

Minghao cuts him off with a brush to his throat. “If you don��t hand that to me within thirty seconds after the director ends scene I will skewer you.”

Mingyu merely grins and nods, compliant as always. Dokyeom laments the great fall of the cashmere sweater of ’21 to Mingyu’s turkey sandwich. When he’s free to go (when they can hear Director Han screaming his name across set) he manages to knock over the bucket of brushes on one of the counters and bends to help them pick it up. Minghao waves him and his apologies off with a reassuring smile and a snide remark about how he can’t let Mingyu get yelled at again, even if Director Han still loves him. He does memorize his lines the best.

. . .

have i known you 20 seconds (or 20 years?)

The next day he is off because, according to Director Han, Leigh wasn’t Tiffany Lee enough in the previous day’s footage and they needed to reshoot most of the family interactions. Needless to say, Leigh looked ready to murder someone over breakfast so Mingyu steered in the opposite direction to let Seungkwan (the actual male lead, the one Tiffany will end up with when the credits roll) handle that. Leigh seemed to like Seungkwan more than him anyways. He finds Soonyoung at the coffee shop again, sans most of the crew at this hour of the day. It didn’t stop the barista from sending death glares again.

Soonyoung already has a latte waiting for him and is ready to pounce before Mingyu manages to properly sit down.

“In the many hours I have had to myself, alone, as a stunt director in a movie that literally doesn’t have any stunts, I have stumbled upon a treasure trove–”

“Please don’t tell me you robbed a bank because you were bored.”

“--That holds all you may ever desire. Mainly books on really randomly specific topics.”

“Please don’t tell me they have a tiger section.”

Soonyoung’s grin turns practically feral. “Oh but they do!” he giggles. Then he pauses for a minute to add, “But they also have a whole section for true crime psychopath stuff you have an unnatural obsession with.”

Mingyu already has his wallet in his hands when he grabs Soonyoung’s arm to drag him out of the cafe. “Let’s go.”

. . .

Soonyoung babbles as he leads them down a few side streets that are too close for anything besides pedestrian traffic, and largely devoid of pedestrians at this time of day. The townspeople seem to really be leaning into this “avoiding outsiders as much as possible” gig. Or maybe they don’t have many errands to run at 10:40 on a Tuesday at a…hardware store…a fish place?...and a bookstore.

He only knows it’s a bookstore because 1. Soonyoung stops abruptly and spreads his arms out proudly declaring “This is the bookstore!” and 2. The small glimpse he gets of the front windows only shows even, carefully stacked and lined colorful book spines. It makes him practically giddy, with this little anticipation tingling the bottom of his feet and he hasn’t even stepped inside yet. The sign above it reads 105 North Tower and he’s sure it’s one of those insignificant literary references that Seungcheol would berate him for not catching. He should take him here sometime.

“It’s so quaint,” he hears himself gush. He means it as the highest compliment.

Soonyoung rolls his eyes and drags him through the front door (it has a goddamned bell!) and Mingyu is so distracted practically swirling around, looking at all the shelves, with their variations in color. There’s a system here, and most shelves have pretty little calligraphy signs of different topics. It’s not chaotic like most small bookstores–there’s a meticulous air to everything–but Mingyu absolutely adores it.

“You’re back,” an unfamiliar voice says and Mingyu startledly swings to see someone behind the counter. They are the only one in the shop–apparently the owner (they are always the owners in this small of a town). They don’t have the customer service smile, in fact, they look pretty unapproachable (like most people in this town) but not entirely unkind. They are pretty, shorter than him (but so is everyone else) and have this baseball cap on and gray cardigan and the same meticulous put-togetherness of the rest of the shop.

“Yeah, I brought my friend here,” Soonyoung says cheerily. If Mingyu knows him he probably spent all of yesterday chatting up the owner-bookkeeper, establishing some sort of friendship even if it was one-sided. The bookkeeper hums, glances at Mingyu (who tried to give his friendliest smile) and returns to the book with some level of disinterest. “Let me know if you need anything,” they say, looking back down. Mingyu mentally runs through the list of things Seungcheol liked to drill into him, like how it probably had nothing to do with them disliking Mingyu personally after seeing him for 2.5 seconds, and you should always read the best possible interpretation of someone’s actions. He swears Seungcheol learned that from some teaching module, but it works so he sticks to it.

“Don’t break anything,” Soonyoung says, already tugging him through the aisles again. (Just who do his friends think he is? Some sort of robot dog on wheels they can drag anywhere they like? A short montage burst of every time he lets them get away with it flashes through his mind as the answer.)

“I’m not gonna break anything,” he protests, trying to read the signs they pass as they go further to the back of the store. The calligraphy is gorgeous, and the font is altered on each one slightly to match the topic. It’s obvious they were done by hand in the “this is too meticulous and careful to have been done by anything but a full, feeling human heart” kind of way. Gardening has flowers blooming between the open spaces of the loops. Mystery’s letters are blockish with empty spaces contrasting with the black background. Caring for Dogs has its own section (“As it should,” Mingyu mutters) and the A and O have been turned into paw prints. Soonyoung drags them to the tiger section first and he admires the stripes the letters turn into with little orange accents. Soonyoung has already started pulling out a book that looks like just a bunch of Bengal tiger photos before he even bothers pointing Mingyu in the direction of those alleged books of interest.

The True Crime placard is stylized like the familiar TOP SECRET font complete with a little magnifying glass by the last E and it makes Mingyu laugh so much he snaps a picture. This section is far enough in the back corner to not have to mind how affronted the owner might seem at something like this. He wasn’t even really sure if the bookkeeper had made them herself or got someone else to. She didn’t seem like the type.

There were the staples of Ted Bundy and the Zodiac Killer (to be expected) but also some on the Hillside Strangler, the Austin Yogurt Shop Killer, and a whole series on the Green River Killer.

But there’s also Last Call by Elon Green and a whole shelf just on missing persons cases. It’s this one he settles on, and thumbs the spines until pulling out a couple to check the blurbs. He accumulates a stack and finally when his knees hurt he sees the bean bag against the wall. He carries his books and finally plops down, opening the first book on Alissa Turney. Distantly, he sets a mental reminder to call Devin and see how he’s doing these days.

Time seems sluggish in the way that in this corner it’s hard to tell if it’s moving or not. The twilight of not having anything to do and about to be called back to set. It passes, somehow, because eventually Soonyoung comes to find him and let him know he has to go back and approve some stunt equipment they are using for a night scene and (in his words) “make sure they don’t impale themselves on something metal.” Mingyu waves goodbye without looking up (they are already discussing possible perpetrators, he should have brought his notebook to trace out connections) before he remembers that he should probably thank his friend. He’s already gone by then.

A text from Jeonghan saying he bought dinner is what finally pulls him from the chair and up to the front desk, still clutching his stack of books. The bookkeeper is still there, except this time they’re busy clacking away at their desk computer. They still don’t look up until Mingyu sets the books down on the counter and clears his throat. Bookkeeper finally looks up with a borderline scowl. This close, Mingyu sees the way their short hair is tucked behind their ears and under the cap and when Bookkeeper raises an eyebrow, clearly disturbed, he can’t help but find them a bit cute. Mingyu must be going insane from the seawater.

“Hi,” he begins, almost squeakily. “I actually wanted to ask you a question. Or a favor really.”

Bookkeeper surveys him once again and lets out a barely imperceptible sigh. “Believe it or not the ‘I forgot my wallet’ excuse has been used before and it won’t work on me.”

Mingyu blinks at them once, twice, before it clicks and he practically guffaws. “Oh no, I have money! I usually forget my wallet but then Soonyoung started stealing it so I had to be more careful about that.” Bookkeeper looks unimpressed but Mingyu feels himself pressing onward. Or at least the words shoveling to the front of his mouth without a filter like basic human interaction protocol. He scrambles to pull out his wallet for proof. “But anyways,” he chuckles, “I was actually just thinking about if it might be possible for you to like, keep these books here? At the store? After I pay for them of course.”

“Like, hold them for you?” Bookkeeper offers skeptically.

“Yeah, you see,” Mingyu begins, “my manager kinda put me on a ban from reading—“

For once it seems to crack something like a smile on Bookkeeper’s face and there’s amusement in her voice when they repeat “A ban on reading?”

Mingyu is already blushing, he can feel it in the heat in his neck, because obviously there isn’t a moment of peace when he’s not embarrassing himself. “He thinks I get distracted easily with my true crime hobbies and I can’t be ‘in the right mindset’ for a romcom if I’m reading too much serial killer stuff, whatever that means.”

The silence falls between them again and it’s easy to slip back into overthinking, watching the way Bookkeeper taps their fingers on the edge of the counter silently thinking. The way they finally pauses and huffs out some air upwards with resignation and it’s so—

“I’ll keep them behind the counter,” they say in an even quieter voice and it makes Mingyu’s heart do weird things like beat irregularly (and he’s not even freaking out at the edge of a second floor balcony!) Bookkeeper is already picking up the first book and scanning it.

“Thank you so much,” Mingyu breathes out, “I honestly don’t know how to repay you. Except by, you know, paying for the books but also if you wanted to charge me for keeping them in your space you probably could and I wouldn’t really mind—“ The look the bookkeeper gives him shuts him up immediately and he grins before blurting out, “I’m Mingyu by the way!“

Bookkeeper (now he swears that’s not the correct title) looks up at him warily (or wearily, the expression was a toss up) and gives the slightest sigh. “Yn,” they say. Finally. Mingyu knows he’s beaming.

“Pretty,” he blurts out before realizing what he said and wanting to die. He has enough experience in this field to know how to cover though and immediately points to the one of the nearest bookshelf placards. “All the calligraphy signs and everything are really pretty, I mean. They look handmade. Did you do them?”

When he turns back there is something close to pink on Bookkeeper’s face and they clear their throat. “My brother did,” they say. Yn opens a drawer and pulls out some twine thread and Mingyu watches in adoration when they use it to tie around the stack of books, crossed on both sides and tied up at the top in a ribbon like a gift box. “It saves plastic bags,” Bookkeeper–Yn—says when they sees Mingyu staring. Mingyu merely nods. He can hear Soonyoung snorting in his head. Wow, is environmental consciousness hot now? Yes, quite frankly, Soonyoung. You wouldn’t know since you practically live off plastic utensils like a heathen.

There’s a beat of silence while Mingyu racks his head for whatever he was supposed to be doing. It’s slipped his mind completely.

“Don’t you have to be on set?” Yn asks, amusement slipping into their voice.

“How’d you know I worked on set?”

Yn laughs then, something loud and honest and God, I thought it couldn’t get worse but it just does. “You’re an idiot,” they say simply, but for some reason it doesn’t sting. It helps that he’s called that all the time. “Are you some random side character or what?”

Mingyu has an initial urge to lie and just go along with that before having a vivid flashforward montage of a series of misunderstandings that would lead to Yn inexplicably hating him. He opts for sheepish, rubbing his neck as he admits. “I’m actually one of the leads. Second lead. Not lead-lead.”

Yn snorts. “Makes sense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yn rolls their eyes and then nods to the phone in his hands. “Think you got a call there.”

Indeed, Jeonghan’s caller ID is glaring back up at him and he scrambles to pick it up. He’s already outside the door (the bell rang again!) before he remembers and opens the door again to stick his head through and yell a little unnecessarily, “Thank you so much, Yn!”

The Bookkeeper looks startled for a minute but before Mingyu turns around he catches a glimpse through the glass door of an amused smile even as she shakes her head. Mingyu counts it as a win.

“Yn? Who the heck is Yn?”

“Oh, Jeonghan hyung, I forgot you were there.”

“Why do you sound suspicious? What were you doing that you sound guilty for?”

Mingyu sends silent thanks that Jeonghan can’t see the red in his face now and channels every acting lesson into calming his voice. It’s excellent practice trying to deceive his manager, and nearly impossible. “Guilty?” he laughs, “I was just at a store, lounging around you know.”

“Uh huh, sure sure,” Jeonghan drawls on the other end of the line, “You better get back to this hotel room in less than three minutes. That’s the time limit on my self-restraint for not eating all this food myself. And also the time limit for when your brother will inevitably call and question how terrible I’m doing on a job he volunteered me for.”

“I’ll be right there!” Mingyu replies cheerfully, always heading down the little shortcut between buildings he had discovered in the town that purposefully goes around the current filming site. The one key to keeping a day off a day off was to make sure Director Han never saw your face. The “hotel” is more of an old mansion repurposed into some sort of pseudo hostel and most of the actors and directors from various sections fill up all the available rooms. The rest of the crew has to drive twenty minutes to and from the nearest Hilton each work day.

He greets Joshua and Jun, the owners at the front desk (who are kinder than most, but he assumes since they are also sleeping here every night they want to furnish hospitable relations), and then heads up the wide staircase to find his room. He has to open it with an actual key, not just a card, but he always insists that’s part of the character of the place.

Jeonghan has two pimple patches on his chin and a fork midway to his mouth when Mingyu opens the door. A quick scan assures him his manager has only made a slight dent, and there’s still enough for him to eat without being famished.

“Cheol’s on the line,” he huffs, motioning to the phone on the coffee table before continuing to shove his face with linguini.

“Hyung!” Mingyu greets cheerfully, plopping onto the couch beside Jeonghan. “How are you? How are your kids?”

“Still evil and devious little creatures,” Seungcheol laughs. “But they seem to be liking Hamlet, surprisingly. How is the filming? Is Jeonghan taking care of you?”

Jeonghan, at the mention of his name, grabs a slice of garlic bread and shoves it into Mingyu’s open mouth. Mingyu tries not to choke but assures his brother everything is fine when he catches his breath. “He’s the best manager in the whole world,” Mingyu says through a mouthful of the pasta, “absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“Good,” Seungcheol replies. “I’m going to try to visit one of these weekends since your set is only thirty minutes away. One of the weekends I’m not drowning in grades to submit.”

“Aw, you really don’t have to!”

Jeonghan snorts beside him. “It’s not for you. He found out that his favorite cinematographer is on this project.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll tell her you said hi,” Mingyu snickers.

“Hey! Mingyu!”

He hangs up the phone before his brother can say anything, and it earns a sound of amusement from Jeonghan.

“Ugh, why does filming take so long?” he groans, leaning back further into the couch.

“You’re not even the one doing the acting. All you do is sleep all day.”

Jeonghan ignores him. “Come be a manager for my little brother, he said. It will be fun, he said.”

“You could always quit and become a florist.”

Jeonghan makes a choking noise. “So who’s Yn?” he asks suddenly.

Mingyu brushes him off. “Just someone in town I was talking to.”

“Like ‘talking to’ or talking to?”

“Like they literally own a store and are legally required to speak to me so I can pay them money.”

“Aw. You should get out and date more, go find yourself a nice girl or guy. Let the paparazzi trail you,” Jeonghan says, “Your career is so squeaky clean and devoid of controversies it’s almost sickening.”

“Hyung, are you telling me to like, purposefully go out and have a scandal?” Mingyu sputters, “Aren’t you supposed to be telling me the opposite? As my manager?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “I was promised fun with this job. Nothing is fun right now.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes once more before getting up to throw away the trash. Jeonghan still hands him the script for tomorrow’s scenes (complete with highlights and notes) but is already under the covers of his own bed before Mingyu can get sappy and thank him. Drats, he knows him too well. Mingyu lets it go though, and turns off most of the lights before settling in his twin bed that smells like sea salt (the hotel went the full seaside-beach theme). He uses a small reading light shaped like a leaf that Soonyoung gave him for his birthday and in between memorizing formulates a little schedule of when he can escape the set to go visit the bookstore again. It’s for the actual books, he falls asleep telling himself.

. . .

the only thing we share (is this small town)

When he finally gets a chance to escape (he has to bribe Seungkwan with a bakery smuggle later that night if he swears he never saw him leave behind the trailers), he goes to the bookstore. Logically. He still paid for those books, it’s not too early to go back. There’s a moment he considers getting Soonyoung but he sees him on the verge of yelling in the Director’s face about safety protocol for this one scene where Tiffany climbs a tree. It’s better to abandon him than get caught up in a mess like that again.

The bell over the door is like a soundtrack to the slow motion movie that his life has become when Mingyu makes it to 105 North Tower just to have the breath knocked out of him. It must be the early morning light from the windows framing Yn’s face in just the right way, making them glow even though Yn probably would have still been pretty in a pitch black room (he needs to work on that metaphor). Or maybe it’s the fact that Yn has a large box in hand and they’re standing on a step stool unloading books because they’re too short to reach the top shelves. When Yn turns they throw a twisted type of unsure grin at Mingyu like they weren’t expecting him but are already thinking of a million ways to make fun of him. Or torture him. All of this is a bit convoluted for his heart’s health. The scowl Yn quickly recovers isn’t enough to hide the fact that they were smiling when they first spotted Mingyu. Mingyu should know; he has 20/20 vision.

“Hi Yn,” he finally says, easy publicity smile plastered on his face.

“Hi,” Yn replies. They are stacking the books neatly onto the top shelf of new arrivals. “You came back.”

Mingyu nods. “For the books.”

Yn smirks like they know he’s lying but Mingyu is probably projecting, again. “Give me a sec.”

Mingyu says “Of course” and then tries to seem like he’s interested in the shelf of Western fantasy novels because he’s not sure what he’s really supposed to do with his hands or how to not actively stare at the Bookkeeper (It’s been one day!). He hears when Yn gets off the stepstool and tosses the empty cardboard box to the side, and turns around when he thinks she’s behind the counter. There’s rustling around and then Yn sets the stack of books on the counter and pushes them towards him.

“Is it weird to stay in here and read?”

Yn shrugs. “Customers like to. There’s a reason there are chairs everywhere.”

“Ah,” Mingyu nods, “thank you.” Because he’s not sure what else to add. He makes it back to the True Crime corner and its purple bean bag again. It’s comfortable and every so often he can hear Yn shifting around, arranging shelves and unboxing shipments. It’s still muted, like they’re trying to be more quiet knowing that someone else is here. Mingyu smiles to himself, and tries to actually read. Which is what he came to do.

It’s at least an hour or two later when his back is sore enough that he figures he should get up and leave. A text from Soonyoung comes asking where he is, followed by the assurance that he would meet him there and yes, Mingyu can use his backpack to smuggle the contraband books back onto set without Jeonghan noticing. It’s a deal, so Mingyu picks up two more titles to buy at the counter. Soonyoung needs the workout anyway.

Yn is typing away at their computer, again, and pretends not to notice Mingyu until he sets the books on the counter again, one stack for those already bought (the twine tied into a poor imitation of the bow it was yesterday, he’s not good at tying bows, okay) and one for the new ones. Yn reads the titles and then looks back at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you only read about murder and serial killers and missing persons?”

“Well, it’s like a main interest of mine. I like reading about real cases. Cold cases especially. The serial killers and just kinda a part of that.”

“You know it makes you look more and more like a serial killer yourself.”

Mingyu sputters. “What? No, I like, actually like to help on cold cases. You know, like, I’m friends with this detective, okay? And there’s a lot you can do as a regular person just scouring databases and really boring online stuff that’s really helpful to the cases but, once again, very boring to most people.”

“Hm, some killers actually like to associate themselves with law enforcement in order to make them less of a suspect, or maybe just to get the thrill of being close to being caught but never being suspected.”

“Aw come on! Just let me explain how I got into this…topic in the first place, okay?” Mingyu insists, still laughing.

Yn eyes him suspiciously but there’s a playfulness there. “Hm, yes, please tell me exactly how you aren’t a serial killer by sounding exactly like how a serial killer would try to explain himself.”

“Oh my gosh,” Mingyu groans. “I took forensic science in high school, okay? And we had a detective come in and talk to us about his job and he showed us some really gross pictures–”

“And that was when you realized you actually wanted to kill someone.”

“--What? No!”

Yn giggles then but waves him on. “Continue, Mr. Serial Killer.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes but presses forward. “He was a cold case detective and so he talked to us for a while about this one specific case he has been working on for years and they were close to finding the perpetrator, hopefully, through some of that online DNA tracing. You know, like the ancestry.com databases and stuff? Well, I became kinda invested in it and bugged him until he let me help. It’s a lot of volunteer work, actually. Just diving into online archives and tracing matches. I was helping him when they cracked that case actually,” he adds, suddenly feeling shy. He looks anywhere but at Yn who is finally not teasing him anymore, but that only lasts for so long, and when he looks back the bookkeeper has their head tilted and they’re giving Mingyu this unreadable look.

“So when you are not making millions of dollars being a top-billed actor,” Yn finally says, “you are actually a helpless nerd who scours internet databases for DNA matches for cold cases.”

“I’m not famous, I’m like a B-list actor,” Mingyu protests feebly. He doesn’t even make that much. He can feel his own skin on his face heating up to melting point and he’s not sure the color is any less incriminating.

“So how’d you get into reading?”

Yn laughs something a little bitter then, but worn down, like they’re settled in the distaste. “I used to hate it actually, but there’s not much better to do when you are stuck with a full leg cast for nine weeks. I thought I’d go insane with nothing to do so I read. Anything that was in my mom’s library actually, which meant a ton of Austen and Dickens and Dumas. Old dead English people.”

Mingyu laughs along with them, even though it feels like he’s stumbled on something still sore. He doesn’t ask more about the broken leg, it seems like a can of worms he doesn’t even have the right to approach as a perfect stranger.

“Why do you have a whole section for true crime if you think it’s weird then?” True crime is familiar, a safe topic to steer back to.

Yn lets out a deep exhale, their cheeks puffing in thought. They look at Mingyu somberly. “Actually, there’s a reason for that, you know.”

Mingyu immediately lets his teasing topple away into something more serious. “What’s that?” he asks, in a bit of reverent quiet voice.

Yn sighs and looks out the window and then back at Mingyu like they’re debating something. Then they leans forward across the counter. Mingyu has to channel all his thinking off the way Yn’s face is suddenly so close to his and their eyes have this drowning effect if you look directly in them for too long, in favor of how serious Yn says the next words. “There was actually a string of murders about eight years ago,” Yn finally breathes out.

Mingyu pulls back–from shock at the words, not an internal fear that’s he going to suddenly lean forward and kiss her without warning. “Seriously?” he breathes out.

Yn nods. “Everyone said there’s a serial killer but he’s never been caught.”

“Oh my God.”

They sigh again, looking back down at the desk. “It’s really scary actually. I think there was a murder a few years ago the police can’t explain and everyone thinks he’s still out there, looking for his next victim.”

Mingyu inhales a sharp breath. “Is he—oh my God, like, there’s really a killer in this town? And the victims—and the police and—oh my God.”

Then Mingyu sees it: the amusement in Yn’s face that’s not anywhere near their lips but practically glimmering in their eyes. He can feel the scowl coming. “You—” He hears Yn break before he sees them, cackling laughter and chuckles that they can’t hold back.

Mingyu pushes away from the counter to stalk off back to his corner away from Yn’s excessive amusement at how gullible he is. His intention is petty and a bit childish but at least it would prove some point, but he doesn’t get far enough to execute it. Somewhere between walking and turning around his shoulder rams into the end display of one of the shelves where a stack of copies of someone’s self-help book had been arranged neatly in order. Mingyu manages to destroy that in three seconds. Loudly.

There’s silence for the pass of a heartbeat before Mingyu even dares to look up and meet Yn’s eyes, wide and so amused, if not a bit shocked.

“That wasn’t the plan.”

That does it for Yn, and they have to lean against the counter with one hand while the other holds their stomach and they laugh. Directly in Mingyu’s face. So loudly and openly their eyes shut and–is Yn crying?

Mingyu huffs out a few times but the smile is unavoidable, especially when Yn’s laugh sounds like this. Yes he can feel the spines of several books digging into his ankles where they fell but he can’t stop staring and smiling. Like someone stole a sample from a heaven soundtrack and put it on loop and–oh. He might be crushing on someone he’s only known for two days. Soonyoung would lose it over this. You always fall way too easily. He doesn’t care though, not now. Instead, he crosses his arms and tries to appear bitter (it’s not working when all Yn does is continue to laugh at him).

He lets Yn continue to laugh even when he huffs and bends down to start picking up the books. He hears the laughter taper down a little bit when Yn finally comes around the counter to help him.

“You’re extremely talented,” they say (gosh, when did their voice get so close and how much longer can he keep staring at the ground to avoid looking up at them in a daze?) “much more in entertainment than acting.”

Mingyu scoffs at that and stands up straight. “Is that just from my horrible first, second and third impressions or have you actually seen anything I’ve acted in?”

Yn stands up straight and maybe he’s a little obsessed with the way they barely reach his shoulders. Yn navigates around him to set the books on the stool and then to fix the shelf itself. “I haven’t seen anything with you in it yet, but you do attract a certain amount of attention.”

“Haha,” Mingyu says blandly. Except when Yn looks back at him their smile is just so sweet. His mind starts spiraling reflexively. “Wait, you’re not going to ban me from coming to your store ever again for destroying property, right? I can pay compensation for it if you really need me too—“

“Mingyu,” Yn laughs, “It’s fine. No permanent harm done. I feel like if I ban you from here I might be held liable for the deterioration of your mental health.”

He doesn’t know how to explain how happy that makes him. The fact that a cute Bookkeeper in a seaside town is letting him come back again. The fact that he wants to make a million excuses to keep coming back.

. . .

the rest of the world was black and white (we were in screaming color)

Soonyoung insists on coming with him, presumably because he’s physically close to murdering Director Han with his bare hands if he doesn’t get a mental break. Seungkwan handed him a note through one of their side characters (Tiffany’s little brother), asking for a specific book and of course Mingyu cheerfully takes it as a God-given burden [excuse] to talk to Yn again.

“You seem to be frequenting this establishment frequently,” Soonyoung says not-so-slyly.

“Don’t say a word.” Mingyu glares. Because they are like two feet away from 105 North Tower and there are plenty of other, more appropriate times to embarrass him to death. Probably as far away from Yn and their pretty eyes as he can get.

Soonyoung pulls a dramatic shoulder shrug. “I see nothing, say nothing. Nihil agio.”

Mingyu scrunches his nose. “I don’t think that’s the right Latin.” Except even if he’s bickering with his best friend he’s still nice enough to hold the door open for him and let him step in first. He regrets it when he steps in afterwards and almost topples over Soonyoung because he freezes within two steps, unmoving.

“What are you—“

“Jeon,” Soonyoung says lowly.

Mingyu glances over his friend’s shoulder to see Wonwoo sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee, apparently comfortably conversing with Bookkeeper. He ignores murderous Soonyoung and waves. “Hi Wonwoo!”

“Hi Mingyu,” Wonwoo says cheerfully, waving back, “Hi Soonyoung!”

Soonyoung groans. “Jeon,” he says, “I see you are ruining local air quality in my one place of respite as well. Also, hi Yn.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion while Yn pulls an amused face.

“I’ll be with my soulmate,” Soonyoung says, looking pointedly at Mingyu before stalking through the shelves.

“Bye Soonyoung,” Wonwoo says cheerfully. Soonyoung doesn’t have to turn around to throw up his middle finger. Wonwoo’s face turns confused to Mingyu. “Do you get the feeling that Soonyoung doesn’t like me that much?”

Mingyu chokes on a bit of air before composing himself and giving a consoling smile (coupled with a pat on Wonwoo’s shoulder). “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you,” he says, “you should go try to make him like you a bit more though. Maybe try to share some interests to strengthen your friendship?”

Wonwoo nods like he’s just been granted some divine instruction. “Sharing interests,” he repeats quietly. The wheels are visibly grinding inside his head.

“He’s in the tiger section,” Mingyu offers with a smile. Wonwoo immediately thanks him and disappears off to find his future best friend.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Yn snickers from behind the counter.

Mingyu shrugs with a smirk. “If Soonyoung hasn’t murdered him yet, I’m sure Wonwoo can survive.”

“That’s not very reassuring for my carpet.”

He laughs. Then he thinks. Finally, blurts out, (with nothing like nonchalance) “How do you know Wonwoo though?”

When Yn looks up at him over her up cup of coffee he’s only a tad distracted by how lovely their eyelashes are, the way they frame their chocolate eyes. “We grew up together,” Yn says, an amused tilt to their voice, “he used to live here, you know.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Yn laughs, but it doesn’t sound unkind, “did you come here for more serial killer books or with the goal of trying to convince me you are not a serial killer?”

He scrambles for the slip of paper he definitely put in one of these jacket pockets (somehow what makes the jean jacket a designer is how many false and real pockets it can fit). “Aha! I actually came to find this. For a friend.”

Yn takes the slip of paper and reads the title. Then Yn clicks on their computer, chewing their lips in contemplation. “I don’t have it in the store but I can get it in just a couple days, would that be okay?”

“That’d be perfect!” He says. Because that’s another perfectly valid excuse to return again, to strengthen their friendship of course. He desperately wants to be friends with them.

They clack some more on their keyboard, presumably placing the order, and when they blink back up at Mingyu they look hesitant for the first time. Or maybe concerned. “The order is placed,” Yn says carefully, “and it should be here around Thursday or Friday. It might be easier to let you know if I had your number.” Their cheeks are really red too, it must be the heat getting to them. “So you can know as soon as it’s delivered.”

“Oh, yeah sure!” Mingyu says, quickly fumbling for his phone to hold it out for them. Yn takes it and their hands brush. There’s no electric shock but there might as well be from how Mingyu freezes. It’s the onslaught of thoughts about how soft their hands are and how he might want to hold them and never let go. It takes two seconds for Yn to input their contact and call their own phone.

“What are you saving my contact as?” He asks, seeing a glimpse of the screen. The grin YN gives him is a bit mischievous as they tap away and then turn the phone towards him. He only gets a second to read, “Definitely Not a Serial Killer Mingyu.”

He huffs out a frustrated breath of air. “Glad to see you enjoy messing with me just as much as everyone else.”

“It’s fun, you’re easy to mess with.”

Mingyu hums and taps on their simple contact name “Yn” to edit it to “Bookkeeper” before showing it to them.

“That’s definitely not my job title but okay,” Yn laughs.

“I thought you usually sent order information through email,” Wonwoo says, appearing from nowhere. A partial question, a partial way to make Yn turn a shade redder.

“I don’t use my email,” Mingyu blurts. Not a perfect lie, but he really doesn’t. Jeonghan reads and sends all his emails.

Wonwoo shrugs. Soonyoung is calling him from the door, complaining loudly about the decrepit status of their society’s morals. He really needs to stop by the coffee shop and get him one of those special edition smoothies to cool off before they get back on set.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from turning around at the door and giving Yn an unrestrained, beaming smile. “See you later, Yn!”

Their grin is a little crooked, shy, but it’s there and that’s enough for now.

. . .

no body (no crime)

Is it flirting if he texts them every chance he’s free on set? Is it the content or the frequency that matters in these situations? Because Yn’s talking about this neighborhood cat that lives around the business street and everyone takes turns feeding and it’s not exactly flirting but they’ve also been consistently messaging back and forth for a couple days. He kind of wants to pull out his phone and text them now, except that he’s at an actual cast dinner and it’s late enough in the night that it would cross some unsaid line they’ve set up.

He’s drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of someone else yelling drunkenly, another exhortation to drink as much as they can. Mingyu frowns down at the beer in front of his plate. The food is good. The fact that his director is breathing down his neck insisting they all get ridiculously drunk when he would rather do anything else is not.

He would prefer Jeonghan to be here, but unfortunately his manager was stuck with the rest of the crew eating whatever fast food they could order en masse to the hotel. No, this was for the “main cast” and directors. Which basically meant that Director Han was being a hierarchical jerk, which Mingyu did not like at all.

He’s squished in between Seungkwan and Dino, their head cinematographer (super young but he already had a ton of movies on his resume so people worshipped him like a prodigy, in general he was also pleasant to hang out with so Mingyu also worshipped him, mostly for social reasons). Soonyoung is MIA, though from the texts Mingyu had glanced at earlier, he was invited but feigned sickness to stay as far away from the Director and Jeon as much as possible. Wonwoo was all the way on the other end of the table where the director and Leigh were sitting.

“If he gives another toast just to make us all drink together one more time, I swear,” Seungkwan mutters beside him, making a face at the alcohol Director Han is dumping into Leigh’s cup on the other end of the table. Wonwoo gently dissuades him to stop and hands Leigh a cup of water.

Mingyu barely touched his alcohol and he was no longer hungry for anything on the table, but he chews extra slowly on the fries just so he has something keeping him occupied and out of too much attention.

One of the senior actors, Harold, played a kindhearted small business owner who helped Leigh with timely and sage advice in her time of need. In real life, Harold was bitter most of the time and snobbish to most of the actors on set, including Mingyu. Which he didn’t quite understand because they barely had two scenes together and he had avoided him most other times. Still, Mingyu must have been doing something wrong because Harold is sitting directly across from him and the one time he laughs a little too loudly at a joke Dino makes about Minghao, he feels the full force of the old man’s wrath.

“Can’t they get more mature actors to fulfill the parts these days?” He remarks too loudly, overtly scornful. “I swear they just pick anybody with a nice body these days and no talent.”

Maybe Mingyu could have brushed it off and cried about it later if the whole table hadn’t stopped, if Director Han hadn’t heard and laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “You know we appreciate Mingyu for his wonderful appearance on camera, but he also knows his lines, so I have to forgive him for other inadequacies.”

“Anybody can memorize a couple lines,” Harold scoffs. “Talent is what’s missing from the kids these days.”

“Hey,” Seungkwan snaps. He looks about ready to pop and maybe start screaming at a senior actor for something that doesn’t really matter and really shouldn’t be made into a big deal, so Mingyu grabs his arm and shakes his rapidly.

“It’s fine, just leave it,” Mingyu says quietly.

Seungkwan glares at him. “But they—“

“Come on, Mingyu! Lighten up the mood and take a shot!” Director Han yells, reaching over the table. Mingyu tries to hide his grimace, but his cheeks are hot with shame and he wants to be anywhere but here. Leigh is looking at him, overly concerned and Wonwoo looks ready to protest but Mingyu’s already been too much of an inconvenience for everyone. So he reaches for the glass and throws the shot back without hesitation, hating the burn in his throat and eyes and the way he just wants to get out.

Director Han cackles and makes most of the table cheer loudly. Mingyu sits back down, counts to seven, leans over to Seungkwan and tells him he’s gonna slip out back to the hotel.

“Are you okay?” Seungkwan asks at the same time Dino leans to ask the same thing. He’s an actor for goodness sake, no matter how untalented, so of course he throws his best smile and assures them that he’s just a little tired and Jeonghan is picking him up, a pitiful lie.

Thankfully, they let him go after he promises to text Seungkwan when he gets back, and he slips out the restaurant front door trying to ignore old man Harold’s glares. It’s only when he stands out on the empty street that he remembers he left his jacket inside. Well, walking—wandering—is the best option to preserve body heat. Unless there are really serial killers roaming about here. Then again, he thinks he’ll be safe enough with his ridiculous height and unhelpful arms.

He should have expected his feet to betray him in this way and lead him exactly here. Except he barely has time to connect how he ended up at the bookstore before Yn looks up from where they have a key in the lock of the front door. Yn stops, looks up at him, surprised.

“Mingyu?”

He scrambles for some excuse because he barely had enough time to put on his actor smile and he’s sure he looks absolutely miserable right now (since that’s how he feels) and he really doesn’t want Yn to see him miserable for a stupid reason like people saying things at a work dinner and he showed up when they’re already closing and probably doesn’t even want to see him right now. “Oh sorry,” he says eventually. “I thought you were open later.”

Yn stops, their hand still on the door and gives him this look like they’re trying to measure all of Mingyu in teaspoons. Yn pockets the keys and shakes their head. “I’m not closing for the night,” they reply, “I was just stepping out to get a bite from the corner store. Do you want to come with me? I can come back and unlock the doors.”

It’s an olive branch of sorts, probably the most open Yn has ever been to him and all he can find to do is nod and let Yn lead him down the street. He has an internal panic of trying to remember how to walk next to someone he has the tiniest crush on without being weird and settles for trying to hunch his shoulders with his hands in his pockets. Yn doesn’t seem that bothered and walks easily, familiarly down the street.

“My friend owns the shop,” they say eventually, breaking the silence. Awkwardly. Which Mingyu realizes is weird because in their few interactions he’s never been the quiet one and now Yn is here trying to make up for that, talk because they know he doesn’t really want to. It’s melted-candy sweet.

“Oh really?” He manages out.

They nod and point to the one store lit up on the corner. “His family ran it and he took it over and now he’s trying to do something with it because he wants to do music full time.” Yn holds the door open for him once they get there, and maybe he forgets it’s weird to stare at an acquaintance because their smile is small but glowing in this weird convenience store light. He almost stumbles inside but catches himself and ignores how Yn laughs lightly behind him.

“Hey Jihoon,” Yn says. That’s when Mingyu notices the guy behind the counter, with his laptop up and headphones, who barely looks up when Yn greets him but does a double take when he sees Mingyu.

“Who’s this?” He asks, squinting at Mingyu, and maybe now he can see why the two of them are friends. Or maybe that’s the brisk blunt attitude of everyone in this town.

“A friend,” Yn replies, “Mingyu this is Jihoon.”

“You’re working on the movie?” Jihoon asks, but he doesn’t seem antagonistic, maybe a little curious. So Mingyu tries a smile and nods. “Cool,” Jihoon says and apparently that’s all because he goes back to his computer immediately.

“Do you want anything?” Yn asks him, already wandering through the aisles. He spots the top of their head over a shelf of chips.

“I ate just a little bit ago.”

“Pick out something to drink then,” Yn says. “And don’t say no, just say you’ll owe me a favor later.”

For some weird reason that’s the thing that makes him crack a smile, a real one, for the first time in hours. He just heads over to the refrigerated section and pulls out a lemonade before Yn can change their mind. He sets it on the counter with the rest of their scavenging and Jihoon scans all the items before he frowns at Yn. “Aren’t you going home?”

Yn stops for a second, eyes darting to Mingyu and then back at Jihoon. “No,” they say, “I’m going back to open back up the shop. Like usual.”

Jihoon blinks at them for a second, hums and then pushes the card reader towards them as a sign to pay. He waits until he hands back the receipt to say, “Have fun,” so seriously it sounds like a threat. Mingyu doesn’t try to read into it much, childhood friends have weird ways of communication all time. (He should know, Soonyoung has been stuck around him for too long.)

Yn turns on most of the soft yellow lights when they get back, but not all of them, and pulls a high stool from one of the aisles to the front of the counter. Yn goes back around and sits in their usual spot, then gives Mingyu a look until he realizes the first chair was for him and sits down. It’s a bottle of convenience store lemonade and a bag of gummy worms, not a date.

It doesn’t make him any less nervous. It may have to do with the fact that Yn looks really pretty and wears baseball caps all the time. They open a drawer and pull out a deck of cards with a red swirl design.

“Do you know how to play anything?” Yn asks, already shuffling them with a practiced ease. It’s a little mesmerizing seeing them fold the cards together, form a bridge and split the deck to do it again.

“Go fish?”

Yn snorts at him. “Here. I’ll show you how to play butterfingers. It’s fast paced.”

Mingyu just nods while they start to set down the cards. Five down, one up, one up five more down. Then Yn splits the rest of the cards between the two of them. “Okay,” they point to the large deck face down on Mingyu’s side, “these are your cards and you have to get rid of them as quickly as possible.”

“As quickly as possible?”

“Yep. You can only have seven cards in hand at one point though, and you have to put them down in one of these piles in ascending or descending order and…”

He doesn’t quite catch all the rules until they are actually playing, and by then it’s a flurry of fingers, and once Yn starts giggling in between telling him all the things he can’t do, they can’t stop. He doesn’t want them to.

Yn wins the first round, unsurprisingly, and Mingyu still has at least twenty cards in his deck. The second and third time they play, he gets into it enough to get close to them, both of them yelling in frustration when they only have a few cards left. He only wins the fourth time, and with that Yn insists they have had enough and he lets them take the cards back only a little disappointed.

“I used to do boxing,” Yn says apropos of nothing. Mingyu almost chokes on his drink. Now he’s thinking about Yn punching someone and is ashamed to say it’s kind of hot. (Soonyoung would take this moment to scream in Mingyu’s ear that he’s screwed.)

“Oh really?” Mingyu says, wide-eyed (except he doesn’t want to seem too surprised and offend them or not surprised at all and thus not interested—maybe Jeonghan is right when he says he should interact with people more outside of filming scenes.)

They nod though. “I went to college on a scholarship for it and was going to all these championships—you know nothing about boxing do you?”

Mingyu ducks his head, laughing, “I know nothing about sports in general, you know. Forensic science detective nerd.”

Yn clicks their tongue in fake disappointment. “Nerd indeed. For your simpleton mind to understand, I was really good at it, and I really liked to do it. Jihoon used to do it too, but he wasn’t as good as me,” they say, adding a wink.

“Wow, so humble,” Mingyu jokes.

“I was good, and I loved it and I thought that’s all I ever wanted to do. And then…”

And Mingyu waits because he thinks he knows where this story goes, and Yn has the same distant look in their eyes as the other day talking about reading books in lieu of being able to do anything else.

Yn exhales and taps the counter. “And then,” they start again lightly, “I got in a wreck and totally messed up my left leg and my arm and I went through rehab but by then I would hurt myself more if I kept up boxing so I had to give it up.” They flourish jazz hands, “Now I’m here with a tiny bookstore and a dude who probably should be asleep right now.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

They flush. “Because you looked all…sad and I’m not good at cheering up people.”

“So you tried to cheer me up by telling me your tragic life story.”

“Yes,” they deadpan, “so you could see how miserable I am and realize you are fine compared to me.”

Mingyu chokes on his laughter. Yn throws a gummy worm at him.

“But seriously,” they say after a moment, “I was trying to tell you that it’s going to be okay.” Yn waves their hands around for a second, grasping for the words. “Whatever has got you down, you can come back from it.”

Mingyu stares down at his drink, fiddling with the loose label. “Did you ever have people doubt if you were actually talented and then feel like you have to do something to prove yourself but you’ve already been working so hard you don’t know what else you can do to prove you can do it?” Which, objectively is a lot to say to a somewhat-acquaintance, somewhat-friend who you find cute, but for once Mingyu is just glad to have it off his chest. Glad because Yn doesn’t seem weirded out and merely leans back in their chair, thoughtful for a moment.

“I think that…” Yn finally begins, “whoever told you that is an idiot.”

It’s hard not to laugh at that, the way they say it so bluntly and seriously and simply. He can’t stop laughing actually, leaning against the counter to catch his breath because his stomach hurts so much and Yn is laughing with him, all their teeth showing and it’s so cute he doesn’t really know what to do and he’s struck by the fact that it’s been less than a week and—dang. He really likes them.

. . .

i don't wanna think of anything else (now that i thought of you)

Logically, the next step in realizing your crush is turning into something more substantial like liking them, would be to ask them out. Except Mingyu never thinks of things like this simply.

For one, Yn owns a bookstore that they work at all day, and going on a date would probably be really inconvenient for their schedule and thus instead of something nice, Mingyu would just be an obstruction to their daily life. Maybe they’d only go out with him because they seem to be really nice like that (opposed to their cold, disinterested exterior, which—God—is another reason he really likes them.)

For another, he’s Mingyu. He’s broken their bookshelf and intruded in their life and he’s technically a part of the huge obnoxious film crew that has invaded their pleasant hometown. He also almost cried in front of them (he’s pretty sure Yn could tell). Overall, he doesn't have a lot going for him when it comes to someone who has been nothing but cool. And cute. And really a lot more out together than him.

And maybe he’s overthinking too much, staring at his cup of coffee intensely enough to garner concern because someone clears their throat above him and he finds Jun, hotel owner #2 there, looking vaguely concerned. It’s offset by his bright pink apron and pig-shaped oven mitt on one hand. He was obviously the one serving breakfast this morning except it’s 12:32pm and most people have already gone. Except for Mingyu (apparently.)

“Hey, do you want any extra English muffins?” Jun asks, smiling eagerly.

“Um, do I have to pay extra?” He asks hesitantly.

“Nah, I have a lot of brunch leftovers,” Jun says. And then he turns around and disappears into the kitchen before Mingyu can formulate a response. He comes back a few minutes later with a plate of toasted English muffins, carefully topped with butter and raspberry jelly. He sets the plate down and then claims the seat across from Mingyu without asking. Which he doesn’t mind, it was nice enough to give him free toast.

“This is really good,” Mingyu says through a mouthful.

Jun’s eyes sparkle. “Thank you. I made them myself.”

Mingyu hums and takes another bite, trying to figure out if Jun wants to talk to him or just stare at him while he eats.

He’s saved by Jun pulling out his phone and tapping rapidly before turning the screen to him. “Do you want to see my new baby?” He asks, even though he’s already shoving the phone in Mingyu’s face.

There’s a cute close up photo of a calico cat on screen black patch of fur over the left eye and orange over the right. Mingyu coos immediately. Jun practically beams.

“Her name is Bohemian Rhapsody,” Jun says. “Or just Rhapsody. Joshua is fighting me about it.”

“She’s so cute,” Mingyu says still smiling while Jun scrolls through more photos.

“She’s a rescue actually. I drove like two hours to the shelter after I saw a video of her and I just wanted her to like me so bad.”

“But she did, didn’t she?”

Jun’s smile grows impossibly warmer. “She did. I almost didn’t go see her though.”

“Why not?” Mingyu asks. (He’s almost abandoned his toast now.)

Jun shrugs. “I guess I was scared, because what if I drove all that way with all the love in my heart and the cat didn’t even like me enough? Then I wouldn’t even know how to start to adopt her. It was impulsive too. We’d have to figure out how to keep a cat around the hotel and dealing with customers and everything.”

Mingyu hums in understanding. “What made you decide to go in the end?”

“Joshua told me to,” Jun snorts, laughing. “But also I told myself if it’s something real, we can work out everything, but I shouldn’t ever let myself regret letting someone go before I even get to find out.”

Mingyu nods slowly as the words sink it. Ironically, he can’t tell if they are talking about a cat anymore. Jun looks curiously at him before finally getting up from the table.

“You seem happier now,” he decides, “I’ll bring Rhapsody around sometime if you’d like to see her.”

“Thanks, I’d love that,” Mingyu says genuinely.

And maybe he thinks about Jun’s weird words of wisdom for too long, through several scenes he has to shoot and all the way up until he’s back in the hotel room eating take out with Jeonghan and Dino.

“I’m gonna go ask them out,” he declares. Jeonghan barely looks up from his burger.

“Finally,” he mutters.

Dino blinks owlishly. “Who?”

“Yn,” Mingyu grins, “I’m gonna ask them out.”

“Ah,” Dino nods slowly. Then he stops again. “Wait who?”

“His bookstore lover,” Jeonghan says through his mouthful of food.

“I don’t remember telling you that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Jeonghan says, “Soonyoung wouldn’t shut up. He keeps more tabs on you than I have the energy to.”

Dino snorts. “That sounds kind of excessive. Anyways, how are you going to ask them out?”

Mingyu opens his mouth before he realizes that he has no clue. He can’t exactly waltz up to the bookstore and declare his love for them, then Yn might actually be convinced he’s a serial killer/stalker. He has to be smooth but romantic, neither of which come naturally to him. He has to do something they’ll like but he’s not even fully sure what they like besides boxing and books, but isn’t that the point of asking them out in the first place? Hey, I’d like to get dinner with you to get to know you better, with the hopes of knowing you enough to know if you’ll kiss back if I kiss you? When did dating become so complex (he has a non answer for that, except Soonyoung snarkily replying that he’s never even properly dated anyone before.)

Dino pats his shoulder consolingly. Apparently his inner turmoil is outwardly obvious again. “Take your time there, bud.”

. . .

something gave you the nerve (to touch my hand)

“Didn’t you buy this book before?” Yn begins tentatively. When Mingyu twirls around to face them they’re holding up a book on Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women. Crap. There goes his attempt at nonchalance and smoothness.

“I actually don’t need to buy any of those books,” he blurts out.

Yn smirks and looks down at the stack. “Sense and Sensibility, How to Raise Your Pet Turtle, The Ultimate Collection of Ted Bundy Articles, and Crime and Punishment,” they read off, “yeah I think I could tell you picked up some random choices.”

He’s already blushing but this is good. This makes him commit to his choices. “I actually came here for something else…”

Yn raises one eyebrow. “Did you come to just give me more books to put back on the shelves or because I have such an enthralling personality?” They joke.

“I came to see you,” he says. But of course, he’s doing this all wrong, because Yn freezes head-to-toe, staring down at the counter. Like Cheol always says, at this point it’s all or nothing. He takes a deep breath. “Which is weird because it hasn’t been that long since we’ve known each other but I think I really like you and I want to go on a date with you and get to know you more, and I don’t really do that with anyone. I haven’t wanted to as much as I have since I met you.”

There’s this terribly awkward silence in the store for a minute that leaves Mingyu regretting every life choice that ever led him to this point, starting from when he first dropped out of college because of a casting call.

“Will it scare you away if I say I know I like you?”

Yn bites back a smile. “Not exactly. Does that mean you want to go on a date or something?”

“One date at first,” Mingyu says, “and then as many as you’ll agree to go on with me after that.”

Yn spins in their chair back to their computer, tapping away at their keyboard but Mingyu can tell they’re nervous by the way they keep messing up and hitting the backspace like they can’t type anything right. In their defense, he’s pretty sure he can’t even read words properly in this state.

“Okay,” Yn finally says.

Mingyu inhales sharply. “Okay? Like yes? That easily?”

Yn laughs at him. “What’d you think I was going to say?”

“I thought you’d at least make me clean the whole store to earn your affection or something,” Mingyu says. “I kind of have been panicking over this for enough hours that my brain came up with plenty of terrible scenarios.”

Yn rolls their eyes at him, but their smile is so pretty it’s distracting. “Where are you taking me on the first date?”

“I will admit I didn’t think that far ahead. But I have tonight off. Unless you are busy. Then we could do it some other time. Or never if you change your mind.”

“Tonight is good, Mingyu,” Yn says, “I’ll pick the place. You pick me up here at seven.”

It’s perfect, he can feel his excitement betraying him in the way he’s grinning like an idiot. “Seven is good. Seven is great. I’m perfectly free at seven.”

Maybe he has to leave and maybe Yn’s laugh is a soundtrack on repeat in his head for the rest of the afternoon until he sees them again.

He is dangerous close to showing up in a tuxedo before Jeonghan and Soonyoung talk him down from it. Somehow Minghao shows up to their hotel room an hour before he’s supposed to meet Yn with a suitcase and a frown that says he knows all the horrible fashion decisions Mingyu would make on his own.

“I was called for an emergency situation,” he says solemnly.

“It was getting desperate,” Jeonghan says from the couch, “he was trying to put on zebra print.”

Minghao looks physically sick for a moment before gathering himself. “Okay, who are you trying to impress? What are they like?”

“Short,” Mingyu blurts out, before hurriedly adding, “super sweet but acts like they’re mean but also they’re kind of nerdy and they used to do boxing and they wears baseball caps all the time.”

“I can…manage with that,” Minghao says carefully, already unzipping his case and sorting through some of the clothes. It doesn’t take him to wind up with an outfit that looks just the right mix of fancy and casual to not send Yn running. Which, at this point he’s still confused as to why they haven’t run away yet (his brain unhelpfully supplies that there’s still time for that to happen.)

“You should get going,” Jeonghan says, “don’t do anything stupid, but if you do make sure it’s on camera.”

“Always so encouraging and heartwarming,” Mingyu calls back to him. Minghao actually manages a decently comforting smile at the door.

Soonyoung tackles him into a hug and gives him a genuine grin. “Relax and have some fun, Mingyu,” he says, “you deserve it.”

He gives him a tight-lipped smile because he’s starting to get paranoid about time and nonexistent traffic. “I’ll try.” God, he already feels sick from nerves.

The nerves slush around in a toxic mess inside his stomach all the way through his brisk walk (not running because if he shows up to their door sweating like a dog there’s no way this date won’t go wrong). But Yn must have some magic in them, because the moment he sees them, leaning against their storefront in a green cardigan and floral pants, the nerves dissolve away.

(He jogs the rest of the way to them, because they are running late already and not because he’s that excited to see them.)

“Hi Yn,” he breathes out when he stops in front of them. Yn lost the baseball cap for the occasion and their bangs are out across their forehead when they smiles back up at him.

“Hi Mingyu,” Yn says, trying to sound bored. They push off of the glass door and start walking, “you like fish don’t you?”

He’d like to know if Yn knew he actually loved fish or if they were just saying it because of the coastal town setting. Still he follows after them and says he does. Then he can’t help but start to tell Yn how his older brother Seungcheol hates fish and once he pranked him by putting sardines in his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Which, Yn insists sounds terrible, but then they tell him about their brother Vernon and how they once gave him a cup of iced soy sauce instead of an Americano.

Yn takes him to a smaller restaurant down the street where the owner welcomes them familiarly (and throws intrigued glances at Mingyu.) Yn doesn’t pay attention, and tells Mingyu to tell them more about how he started acting while they order some dishes he doesn’t catch the name of.

It’s not a very interesting story, he finds himself saying each time before he starts another long narrative he gets too caught up in the retelling of. But Yn just smiles each time and listens to him. He gets them to talk too (when his cheeks overheat from how much they just…stare at him) and is rewarded with several tales of Wonwoo and Jihoon’s high school antics.

Maybe they sit there for two hours and don’t notice it. Maybe Mingyu wants to kiss them even more.

“Can we do this again?” He blurts out, after the owner comes back with the third refill of their drinks.

Yn immediately glances down and Mingyu is forced to think that he’s done it again—went and ruined a perfectly good thing. But then Yn looks up again, serious, and doesn’t give him a chance to overthink when they look at him like that. Like they see him.

“I’m scared, you know,” Yn says quietly, “because I don’t want to like you this much if you are going to leave in a few weeks and never come back. I don’t want a summer love or anything like that, but I don’t want to be the one who holds you back from your movie star dreams.” They say it with a bit of weak sarcasm but the genuine fear leaks through, Mingyu can tell.

Impulsiveness be damned, he reaches across the table and gently takes Yn’s hand into his own.

“I’m scared too,” he admits, “but I don’t want to give up on something before it starts because of that. If we…if we like each other than we can figure things out. I don’t have to give up on my dreams, but I also don’t have to stay in the same place.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” he begins, “that we should just keep going on dates, and figure it out as we go. Is that too stupid?”

Yn squeezes his hand back once before they smile. “It sounds nice.”

. . .

call my bluff (call you babe)

There’s a fair that comes to the town in the middle of fall, and happens to coincide with their filming schedule perfectly enough that Director Han already decided long ago they need to get some key scenes there. Mingyu is only scheduled for a scene the first half of the first day and the rest are scenes between Seungkwan and Leigh’s characters, finally starting to come to terms with their obvious romantic feelings. So of course he mentions this to Yn, oh-so-inconspicuously, and they take it with a grin and a bored question of “Do you want to hang out there after you are finished filming?” And of course, Mingyu eagerly agrees (it’s a wonderful idea, he should have thought of it himself.) “I haven’t been on the Ferris wheel in forever,” Yn mentions casually, which Mingyu already understands is the closest they’ll get to admitting that they really want to ride the Ferris wheel. Well, Mingyu can figure out how to grant that wish.

If only he weren’t dreadfully scared of heights.

Jeonghan, for the first time in the three years Mingyu has known him, looks furious. Like, borderline about to throw someone out the window furious. It makes Mingyu take a step back even though he’s not even the point of this anger.

“Him going on the Ferris Wheel was never part of the script,” he says sternly, “in fact, from my own recollections, one of the stipulations in the contract was that he not be forced to perform any extensive height stunts. And you want him to film a scene on the top of a 212 foot ferris wheel that you just threw into the script last minute? The answer is no.”

Han is red in the face, puffing out his cheeks as he spits out his next words. “Things change during filming all the time, and right now it is the best opinion to capture the emotion and feeling of the scene. Are we supposed to throw art to the wall because one actor cannot suck it up for a single, essential scene?”

Mingyu’s brain flips to white noise, blocking out whatever Jeonghan starts snapping back, about to bite or attack Director Han with his bare hands. The rest of the crew is standing around, unable to even continue their jobs because Mingyu is deathly terrified of going on one of the most harmless rides in existence. Leigh even looks frustrated with him, standing to the side with her arms crossed and glaring at Director Han. It really is all his fault. He’s once again managed to become the most annoying, bothersome person on set just because he can’t suck it up like the director said.

What’s worse: if he can’t do it now, he won’t be able to do it later for Yn either.

He grabs Jeonghan’s arm to stop him and his manager swings to look at him. “I’ll do it,” he barely manages out. His throat suddenly feels so dry. “I’ll do the scene, it’s fine.”

Jeonghan’s face contorts through several emotions, all of them in the range of unrestrained fury. “No, Mingyu you don’t have to—“

Director Han practically cheers. “He said he could do it! Since your actor agreed we can actually get to work. Everyone get to their places!”

Jeonghan opens his mouth to yell again but Mingyu grips his arm and shakes his head again. “It’s fine.”

He stares down Mingyu for a heartbeat. Two. “Fine,” he says, shaking off Mingyu’s grip and walking away. Somehow, that makes him feel the most empty and desperate.

He has to do it now.

He is instructed to get into one of the carts with Leigh and two cameramen while a kid who probably isn’t more than seventeen operates the whole machine that could snap and crush them to death. Maybe he could still get out if he just—except now Leigh is sitting beside him and the older cameramen was helping the kid close their little gate and lock it shut. A thin metal gate is all that’s standing between him and certain death. At this point he’d take his chances with a serial killer.

He tries to stare at the bottom of their little cart, but that doesn’t do any good when the bottom is grated metal and he can see through it, down to the rapidly distancing ground. And it shakes. Nothing is stable and he’s going to die in less than four minutes. Logically, he knows people ride this everyday and don’t die. Mingyu-ly he can’t think straight when the panic is crawling up his throat with each second they get higher into the air.

“You should just try to channel that fear into nervous jitters for the date,” Leigh offers, with genuinely the best intent, but all Mingyu does is give a tight-lipped smile because that advice genuinely sucks.

They are halfway up in the air (Mingyu assumes) when his idiot brain decides to revolt against him and convinces him it’s a good idea to look over the edge of the cart. In the distance (barely a few inches away from him) Leigh is going over their lines and how to run the scene but Mingyu can’t think. His knuckles are white, gripping the edge of their bench, and the only thing he can consciously feel is the cool metal digging into his palms and his stomach being twisted, chewed up and strung out on repeat.

He looks over the edge and his vision goes blurry. There’s not even enough oxygen up here to breathe and he’s underwater he’s—

Perfectly screwed the moment he has enough sense to comprehend his vision is blurring in, black creeping in from the edges.

He wakes up still in the cart, which immediately scratches off the possibility of him waking up from a dream. It only takes him a few seconds to realize what happened, but by then Jeonghan is beside him, patting his face softly and more than a little panicked, asking if he’s okay.

Mingyu’s throat is a little dry, but he nods. “I’m good.”

“You are so not good, Mingyu, you idiot!” Okay, that voice doesn’t make sense because why would Seungcheol be here? Yet when he turns his head, his brother is there, looking more ticked than usual. Great.

That’s when he hears someone else yelling on set and possibly Director Han freaking out in response (“I didn’t think he’d almost die!”).

“The ambulance is coming,” Jeonghan tells him, “we are taking you to the hospital.”

“Oh my God, Mingyu, are you okay?” Leigh asks. It’s already starting to get annoying the amount of times he’s being asked this.

He sits up, slowly because he feels lightheaded and hot and freezing cold at the same time. “Hospital? I’m fine,” he says quickly. His head is throbbing but honestly if it gets them to stop he doesn’t need to mention it.

“For the love of God shut up and let the EMTs take you to the emergency or so help me I will murder you myself, Kim Mingyu,” Seungcheol threatens.

Mingyu nods quickly and leans back into the cart bench. At least they are on solid ground again.

The EMTs come, someone waves a flashlight in his eyes, and Jeonghan threatens him until he gets on the stretcher to be wheeled into the ambulance. Right before the doors close him in with his fuming older brother and manager, he catches sight of Soonyoung still yelling at Director Han, and just a little bit away, Wonwoo standing next to Yn and—crap, he had to wind up fainting in front of literally everyone in his entire life he cares about, all at once.

“How’d you even get here?” He asks Seungcheol carefully.

“I was coming to give you a surprise visit,” Seungcheol says, “not to have a heart attack seeing you almost die.”

“I didn’t almost die,” Mingyu attempts.

“Not a word, Mingyu,” Jeonghan threatens. “I’m going to sue that idiot Han so far into the ground he won’t even be able to breathe the same air as us humans anymore.” The EMT worker casually taking Mingyu’s blood looked a bit concerned at those words and Mingyu smiles apologetically.

“Yn saw me, didn’t they?” Mingyu asks in a small voice.

Jeonghan sighs. “Hang on.” He pulls out his phone and starts calling someone. “Soonyoung? Get Yn to the hospital no matter what you do…yes he’s still alive, it’s literally five minutes away.”

Mingyu groans and leans back into the stretcher. “This is already in the top three most embarrassing days of my life.”

Seungcheol pats his knee finally, his only sign of comfort.

. . .

when i fold (you see the best in me)

They take his blood, run tests, ask him a dozen questions and finally decide that he’s perfectly fine, except for some slight bruising on the side of his head where he banged it against the cart when passing out. Still not hard enough to give permanent damage, apparently.

Seungcheol takes advantage of the fact that Mingyu is stuck in an emergency room bed for the next few hours to pester him about Yn, since the only news he’s heard is whatever Jeonghan has heard from Soonyoung (which are really inconsistent and hardly accurate exaggerations). So he tells him, a little bit too much, about how Yn has the prettiest smile and eyes and they give him these warm fuzzy feelings inside but the absolute worst part of it is that he thinks he might have ruined it all because he didn’t think.

“You didn’t ruin anything, Mingyu,” Seungcheol says, “you made everyone terrified because you have a bunch of people who care about you. Maybe they need a little time to gather their thoughts, but if they stop seeing you because of something like this then…I would have to think they’re not good enough for you. But don’t jump to conclusions first.”

And he can’t really argue with that logic (which is infuriating because he’s 88% sure Cheol was using his “comforting teacher” voice on him and it worked) so he just says okay.

Soonyoung shows up a little later, already in tears, which isn’t surprising. What is surprising is that Wonwoo also comes into the room showing no signs of physical harm.

“We are friends now,” Wonwoo explains, after Soonyoung is assured for the fifth time that Mingyu is alive and not facing terminal illness.

“I threatened him to call Yn and tell them the hospital room number,” Soonyoung says, “now we are on a truce.”

Wonwoo blinks. “He threatened to let a set prop collapse on me and make it look like an accident if I didn’t call them. But I also drove him here.”

That makes Mingyu laugh for the first time of the day. “Do you still think Wonwoo is evil?” He asks Soonyoung.

He glares at Wonwoo. “He is not supposed to be nice to me, it’s ruining my strong bitter well-established hatred of him and everything he stands for. He won’t even let you get cast in his stupid crime movie when that’s all you want.”

Wonwoo twists his eyebrows together, looking back at Mingyu (who is actively trying to shrink down into invisibility). “You want to be in that movie?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to explain, or maybe make up some fumbling excuse, but Soonyoung swings his head to Wonwoo, mouth gaping open and snapping shut a few times before he manages to get the words out, “Yes? That’s why he’s been sucking up to you? Why he kept baking you stuff and talking about death and crime scenes and everything for months?”

“Oh,” Wonwoo hums, “I didn’t know you wanted to be in the movie. You never said anything. If you had asked I would have put you on. You’re a good actor, I just thought you’d be too busy with your romcom stuff.”

Mingyu bites his cheek at the compliment and tries not to break down because something he really had dreamed about for years was within his reach the whole time.

Soonyoung beats him to it, immediately bursting into tears, gross and snotty. “You’re so stupid, Mingyu!” He says through his sobs. “You are so stupidly nice and don’t know how to say no to people!”

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu mumbles, patting Soonyoung’s back.

“Stop saying sorry! Just stand up for yourself!”

Sure, his brother and best friend have said those words several times before in a few variations. Including, but not limited to: “don’t let people run over you,” “stay kind but don’t let them take advantage of it,” and “say no when you want to.” He’s said he’s listened to them, but if fainting on a Ferris wheel is anything to go by, he really hasn’t. The trouble with Kim Mingyu in one step: being too much of a pushover for his own good.

From what Jeonghan tells him later, Director Han insisted on him being admitted for at least one night, likely to cover up the workman’s comp issues that will inevitably ensue. Seungcheol tries to sleep there with him, but Mingyu pulls several cards to get Jeonghan to drag him back to the hotel, if only to have some time to himself. He definitely use the time alone to slip into paranoid thoughts about how Yn didn’t come at all the first day.

That’s probably why he’s convinced it’s just a dream when he wakes up past eleven and visiting hours have already started because Yn is sitting in the one chair in the room with their knees pulled up to their chest, nose in a book.

They glance over the page and almost drops the book in shock when they meet Mingyu’s eyes, cursing. He can’t stop from laughing at them, just a little bit. (Side effect of the giddy satisfaction of seeing them in person.)

Yn exhales in exasperation. “You drool in your sleep.”

He panics when he wipes his mouth—then glares at them again when they laugh because nothing is there. “You’re here,” he says intelligently.

Yn just sets their book on the bedside table (Northanger Abbey) and pulls a large reusable grocery bag from where it was leaning against their chair. Yn hands him a teddy bear from the top, and then maneuvers a brown box carefully out of the bottom. “I didn’t come yesterday,” they say quietly, “because 1. I kind of freaked out and 2. I went to my brother’s to get his help to bake you a cake and then greatly miscalculated the time it would take me and missed visiting hours.”

When Un opens the box on the table, there’s a small orange icing cake with white lettering saying Get Well Soon, Mingyu! with a cute Ferris wheel drawing on the bottom he wants to laugh at but he’s already getting choked up. Because they came, they wanted to come, and they spent their time actually baking him something silly and sweet. If not morbidly hilarious.

“You made that for me?” He asks quietly.

“No, for the other cute guy who bothers me at my shop for dates and then makes me worried sick about him because he fainted while filming named Mingyu.”

He laughs, finally, a little wetly. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “that was really embarrassing. I didn’t mean to worry everyone so much. I knew I was terrified of heights and that it wouldn’t end well but…you said you wanted to go on it for our date and I figured I could try to get over my fear before then but…you saw how that ended up.”

When he looks back up at them, their lips are pressed together and they stare at him for a few uncomfortable minutes before asking. “You wanted to conquer your debilitating fear of heights just because I mentioned in passing that I wanted to ride the Ferris wheel?”

“No?” He tries hesitantly, “Maybe? Yes?”

Yn sighs, exasperated. He shuts his eyes for a minute, but then feels them sitting down on the edge of the bed. His eyes jerk open the moment they tangle their hand with his.

“You’re really sweet, it’s honestly scary,” they admit softly, “and I know I already like you. A lot. Irreparably so. So I’d appreciate it if you want to be my boyfriend, that you try to avoid scaring me to death on our dates from now on.”

His head is swirling from a single, weighty word and he can’t stop his face from making a happy, grinning expression. He still tries to joke to cover up how unbelievably happy he is right now. “So you’re saying I can scare you to death when we are not on a date.”

“I’ll genuinely murder you, Kim Mingyu,” Yn says (threat offset by their soft smile.)

Later, after Yn forces him to try the cake (it’s carrot cake, entirely too delicious just to eat one slice of), Yn pauses and gives him this look that he’s beginning to recognize as a sign they’re about to be dramatically serious. “Mingyu, I want you to know even if you break my heart, I trust you.”

Gut-punch. It’s simple and yet he kind of wants to get on one knee and offer to buy them a house or at least as many books as they want but none of that is as immediate as the blood-burning urge to lean forward that he finally gives into. Slow, so that she can back away if she wants to, but Yn has the prettiest eyes and they just get closer and she’s the one who puts a hand on the back of his neck to pull him closer for that final, universe-shattering collision.

Simply: it’s sweet. Not just because of the cake, but because he’s never felt this happy being kissed by someone in his life.

He’s embarrassingly breathless when he speaks again. “Yn,” he says, “I promise you that I can’t promise not to break your heart, but I will stay with you. I’ll be there for you as much as I can and I’ll love you with everything I have. I’ll trust you and you’ll trust me and we will talk about things and most of all, I’ll do everything I can so we can be happy. Together.”

Yn smirks. “Good. If you promised not to break my heart I was gonna just break up with you right here.”

. . .

my time, my wine, my spirit, my trust (trying to find a part of me you didn’t take up)

“Are you…nervous right now?”

Mingyu stops momentarily rocking back and forth on his feet to grin back at Yn, frozen with their key in the door handle. “Meeting the fish is the most important step in a relationship, you know?”

Yn scoffs at him, loudly. “You literally meet up with my brother every weekend.”

“Vernon is a better best friend than my actual best friend,” he says, “but you’ll break up with me if your fish don’t like me, won’t you?”

Yn punches his arm for that but they open the door and let him inside, shoes off by the door. With the lights on, the apartment looks pretty much the same as their bookstore, if not with more photos stuck to every open vertical surface. Yn tells him to make himself at home and he can’t help but smile when he spots the jacket he bought them laying on the back of her couch, a picture of their pizza dinner taped above a light switch, and it’s weird how he feels welcomed in a place because there are some pieces of familiarity slipping into it already.

“They are here,” Yn says, standing over by a small table on the other side of the room. The fish tank takes up the whole table and glows green from the back light. They wait until he has his face practically pressed to the glass to point to the two black moor goldfish. “That’s Blue and that’s Red. You forget which one is which and—“

“And I kiss you to make up for it because that’s an impossible challenge,” he supplies. Yn laughs (a win for now).

He invites himself into their kitchen to cook dinner, and it’s sweet until Mingyu trips on thin air and pulls Yn down with him.

“I was breaking your fall,” he manages out.

Yn looks thoroughly unimpressed from where they’re lying on top of his chest, but they don’t make a move to push off his arms wrapped securely around them. They just…stay there and cross their arms so their chin is resting on them, looking down at Mingyu with this ridiculous grin on their face.

“You going to move?” Mingyu asks, amused.

“Nah,” Yn huffs, “I’m settled here.”

Two fish, three more free months until he’s supposed to start filming for Wonwoo’s crime movie as a detective no one believes, four thousand ways he can think about Yn in one single day. It’s simple because they are still figuring things out but the constant is that they like spending time with one another (the kissing is just a mutual benefit, Yn insists). All Mingyu knows is that they read too many books and like to make jokes about his height, and maybe…

Maybe this is a dream he can get used to letting himself live.

[forsakenmis]

Calming her down

Title: Calming her down Pairing: top!Wanda Maximoff x female!reader Rating: 18+ Incredibly NSFW Warnings: Dark Wanda, kind of non-con, strap on, fingering, mummy kink, post-WV finale so spoilers if you haven’t seen it. also i haven’t editted it so beware grammar and spelling mistakes. Word count:  4215 words

It had taken far too long to track her down. Why they asked you to do it, you weren’t really sure. It’s not as if you and Wanda ever really talked, or even made eye contact, during the years as an avenger. Yet you were given the task of pulling her back onto the rails, rails she’s apparently veered pretty badly. You really think Doctor Strange, the Gandalf of wizards, would be a lot better at handling her than you would be. Or even Clint, the guy who was her mentor. But no-no one wanted to reach out to her, even though they spent years arguing that she needed to be supervised. You could go on for days how you being the person being sent is the most ridiculous idea they could have had.

You weren’t even a super, or an avenger, you started off as a shield agent who was then thrown into Stark Industries as Tony’s intern. Fury wanted an in and you were that in. Then everything went bottoms up and you became a slightly more valuable member of the group. Support, really.

After the snap, you just wanted a stable life. A normal life. By the time they contacted you to do this, you’d applied to a college. No, a university. In Australia, which was far, far away from New York. The briefing was simple. Wanda, left to her own devices in her time of need, went to try to handle her own grief after stealing Vision’s body from S.W.O.R.D. You were being asked to go try to talk some sense into her. Then, within the week of you repeatedly saying no, it turned out the head of S.W.O.R.D. was a bastard which you could have seen coming from a mile away, and Wanda was god knows where.

They promised you they’d leave you alone after this.

So you said yes.

What could go wrong?

You were still asking herself that three weeks later when you were sitting there still trying to find out where exactly she went. Wanda wasn’t going to be easy to find, especially considering she didn’t want to be found but you did it. It was four in the morning when you finally narrowed down a list of ten possible locations that she could be in. You were too tired to even crack a smile, you fell back onto your bed to sleep.

Your celebration was sleep for by the next morning, you were trekking across the world and came to the outskirts of a property with the view of the mountains. Pretty, sure, but you didn’t think Wanda was here for the view.

It was eerily quiet when you walked up to the door. That type of quiet they put into horror movies before they pulled out a jump scare. You didn’t trust it. Then again-not that there was anything around to make noise. Wanda could be asleep, as maybe all this isolation has meant she’s forsaken a body clock.

Still-you trusted it as much as you could lift Mjollnir and you couldn’t even make it shift.

The curtains were closed, you couldn’t see anything as you walked up the two steps and you had to stop your hand from hovering over your handgun. It would have been more of a self assurance. You couldn’t dream of winning against Wanda in a fight, both of you would be aware of that, but you couldn’t exactly imagine she’d be that trusting of you if you walked in holding a gun. So you fiddled with the watch around your wrist, it was a gift from Tony years ago.

You could have brought reinforcement, sure, but that seemed like a moot point considering you were trying to gain her trust, somewhat. The reinforcement would have been S.W.O-oh whatever, sword, you don’t have the time for formality. And sword made such a huge mess of it the first time round so you didn’t think they were going to help this time round. You tried calling Clint, but he was busy, apparently. Too busy to pick up your calls.

This was definitely a suicide mission.

You knocked three times with the back of your knuckles and listened, trying to hear any hint of movement.

Nothing.

You knocked again. Knock. Knock. Knock. Not even a creak.

Maybe she was asleep or maybe, dare you say it, had gotten it wrong. God, you’d hate for some old man to swing the door open.

Your hand dropped to the handle, going to test the lock, but then it swung open and if it wasn’t for your own instincts, you would have stumbled forward.

Wanda.

Your eyes slammed onto her face and, for the first time in years, you fumbled. She looked different, way too different for your liking, she looked older since Tony’s funeral. Mature. More confident in herself. You could think of a different million ways to describe her in that split second.

She’d always been pretty before but this Wanda was…gorgeous. This Wanda could also read minds.

You cut your thoughts short and took in a slight breath. Wanda wasn’t saying anything and her only acknowledgement was the slight hook of her brow.

“Wanda,” you began before forcing a smile onto yourself, “long time no see.”

“So they sent you, of all people,” Wanda remarked and you made a face. Sure-she was right but that was, quite frankly, rude.

“They suggested I come and I wanted to come,” you lied, “to see how you were doing...okay, look, I know we never talked. Or interacted. I know that. I was probably not the most open to you as I could have been.” Wanda was continuing to stare at you. She was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. A shirt that arguably was one size too small for her. You weren’t really sure what to say, if you were honest, you’d spent so much time trying to find her, tracking her down like a puzzle, that you forgot to plan for this interaction.

“But I like to think we were on good terms,” you continued. Worst thing she could do was close the door in your face and you were more than happy to camp outside. “Enough that you’ll hear me out. I heard about your book, the darkhold–” That’s when you got a reaction out of her. Her eyes narrowed, growing even colder, and you could see her grip tightening on the door. “–we need to talk. Please-just let me in. I’m not going to fight you. We both know I can’t do that.”

You were keeping your thoughts clear. You didn’t want her reading you.

After a second, Wanda swung the door open wider and let you in.  

Your eyes scanned the room the moment you entered the threshold, looking for all the exits, before you turned back to Wanda. Wanda, who had closed the door, and had started walking towards you, close enough that you took a step back but found yourself hitting the back of a table.

Now that she was right up in your personal space, close enough that you could smell the soap she was using. Your heart was beating now.

“So you came for the book?” She asked, staring down at you. She was only a couple of inches taller than you but it may as well have been more.

“No, I came here to help you. And I know that book isn’t helping you, no matter how much you think it is. Wanda, that book is dangerous,” you said, gaining enough courage that you pushed yourself off the table to step forward, getting into Wanda’s space just as she was in yours.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Wanda remarked but she didn’t move. “You’re as bullheaded as you used to be, never knowing when a fight was too big for you. I remember all those times Nat and Steve had to throw themselves on the line because you’d done something reckless.” “That’s rich coming from you.” “I could protect myself,” Wanda snapped back. “So where are they? The rest of them. The people that said they were my family. Were you all that they had?”

You clenched your teeth. Don’t say the truth. “They wanted a woman’s touch with it,” you lied. “There isn’t that many of us who were close to you back then anymore.”

It was really only Nat and maybe Pepper who were close to Wanda. Both were a little preoccupied as of right now (for different reasons) to come knocking on Wanda’s door.

“A woman’s touch?” Wanda echoed, saying it in a way that made you clench your teeth. It was a raspy whisper. “And what, may I ask, would that entail?”

With the way she said it, you were pretty sure that Wanda wasn’t meaning it in the same way you were. Albeit, your meaning was rather off as well. In that you had no idea what that would entail either.

Wanda must have realised this and took a step back. “I suggest you leave,” she said and you hesitated before shaking your head.

“I won’t do that,” you said and she frowned. “They asked me to calm you down–”

“Calm me down?” She repeated, pronouncing each syllable, and it was as if the temperature dropped ten degrees. “Calm me down.” Then she smirked and it made you roll back on your heels.

“As long as you have that book, yes,” you said, “how about this–I take the book and then I go. You’ll think more rational without it, Maximoff, you know that. Deep down. You’re smart, Wanda, smarter than anyone ever gave you credit for. Besides Vision–”

“Don’t say his name,” Wanda snarled and suddenly she was in front of you again, hand around your throat, “do you understand me? He doesn’t exist here, not with you around.”

You didn’t really know what she meant but you ran with it and nodded. Her hand was tight and your airway was becoming a little too blocked for your liking.

She stared down at you, her eyes hard and cold, but then they softened and her grip loosened but they still didn’t leave your skin.

“You know, I might have pursued you back then, if it wasn’t for him,” Wanda began and you blinked. What? “You were everything I liked in a girl. Besides your recklessness….and stubbornness...but I think I can deal with that pretty easily.”

“Wanda, I’m flattered, really, but how about we focus,” you said, carefully, deciding to take that with a grain of salt and then over analyse it at three in the morning. Like how could you be cock blocked by a bloody robot? “Just give me the book and I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll make sure no one comes looking for you–” “You can’t promise me that,” Wanda remarked before she dropped her hand to take a step back. Then she looked you up and down. “You said they wanted you to calm me down, right? How about I keep both you and the book.”

You would like to say you were able to fight back. Prevent Wanda from knocking you out. But you were gone by the time she finished her sentence.

----

When light streamed into your eyes, the first thing you registered was the soft pillow underneath your head. Then you felt the rest of the bed and your eyes sprung open.

Your legs were bent up and out, Wanda’s red mist wrapped around your ankles and knees to keep them up. Meanwhile, your wrists were stuck to the headboard. Then your eyes rested on….Wanda?

Transparent Wanda reading that bloody book. You swear to god-you’ll burn that book the moment you get your hands–

“You’ll do no such thing,” Wanda’s voice cut through your apparently rather loud thoughts. You turned your head, trying to find her, and there she was in the doorway, sipping a cup of tea, watching you. Then she kicked off it and moved into the room and slid the mug onto a table before coming to the bed. “Maybe I’ll let you hold it one day as I read it.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand, Wanda, let me go,” you whispered as you began to struggle, pulling on the restraints again and again, but they weren’t budging. Neither was Wanda.

“I don’t think I want to,” Wanda hummed as she pushed herself onto the bed, “you see, I lost everything. My brother, Vision, Nat, Steve, my two boys, then Vision again. I lose every single family I ever have. Maybe this time I’ll succeed. I’m trying to find them, you see, with the book. Find them and pull them out. We can live here, happy, away from everyone.”

“We’ve done this story before Wanda, it didn’t–” “This time will be different, I’ll be more powerful, I won’t mess up this time,” Wanda pressed as her hands went to your inner thighs, moving them up and down your clothed skin. “And, when it comes to you, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. I don’t think I��ll let them see you. No, you can be my little secret. I stared at you for too many years, let you whore yourself out to other people. Not anymore.”

You drew your brows together. This couldn’t be happening.

“As you said, you’re meant to calm me down, right? Meant to pull me off some edge because everyone else was just too busy,” Wanda said as she positioned herself between your legs, bending down to kiss your jawline. You throbbed and pulled on the red strands wrapped around your wrist, but to no avail. “But I can think of another edge you can get close to,” she whispered as she pulled away again.

“Wanda, what are you–”

Her fingers slid in between your thighs, pressing into your heat, and a sharp gasp left your mouth. She began to rub through your jeans, cupping your heat, and you tugged again. This time, the red scratched the watch around your wrist and suddenly your clothes had snapped into the red armour Tony had built you years ago. Protective armour that replaced whatever you were wearing in a nick of time.

Useful.

The shift was enough to push Wanda off you and she stared down at the red and black armour with a slight tilt of her head.

“Well, that won’t do, will it?” She asked as her hands trailed down the cool metal. “Neat trick. Tony’s design, right?”

“Of course,” you responded after a moment, your chest rising up and down. There was no point in denying it-it was obviously Tony’s. Right down to the colours.

Wanda’s eyes turned red as the red mist circled around her hand as she lowered it back down. You flinched when you felt it slink in between the small crevices. The suit was meant to be protected against outside substances, able to go into water, but you supposed Tony didn’t exactly build it against Wanda.

“Wanda, you don’t–” “If you don’t be quiet, I’ll make you, do you understand me?” She hissed as she bucked her hand backwards and the suit around your hips ripped off you and tossed across the room. You whined as the cold air hit your bare skin, contrasting the building heat in between your legs.  

You were left with nothing but the top half and the pants that wrapped around your thigh. “Much better.”

With that, she went back to what she was doing before but this time there was nothing to prevent her from slipping her fingers through your slick folds, the tips of her nails teasing your entrance.

“Look at you, already so wet,” she cooed and you gritted your teeth. This really couldn’t be happening. This was a dream. She could control reality, this was just a dream. “This isn’t me in your head, sweetheart, trust me–I would have cut the foreplay if I was creating this.”

She continued to massage your heat and it took you everything you had not to moan.

“Why are you…” you tried saying but you were cut short, once again, when her fingers found your hooded clit, using the tips of her nails to start playing with it. You bucked your hips instinctively and she chuckled.

“You said you wanted to help me, right?” Wanda asked and the building heat was beginning to become a little too much. “So how about this, sweetheart, you help mummy out by becoming mummy’s little stress reliever.”

Two fingers suddenly plunged into your entrance and your back arched. At least your clit got a little bit of a break but it wasn’t long until her palm began to grind against it as she thrusted the fingers into your tight entrance. Each thrust expanded your walls, letting her in even deeper, your own arousal making her movements slick and quick.

“Wand-” you began to moan but it morphed into a sharp yelp when she pulled her fingers out to slap your cunt.

“You’re a smart girl, sweetheart, it’s how you got around Tony for so long. I think you know exactly what you want to be calling me,” she said and suddenly she was back down so that her face was only inches away from yours and her fingers slid back inside of you.

Unlike last time, though, it wasn’t rough and sharp. Her fingers were slow as they moved inside of you, curling at the tips, scratching your walls. Exploring. She was exploring you and you could do nothing but whimper and moan.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know you would. Look at you, already so wet and submissive for me,” she whispered, scattering kisses down your jawline as she reached your ear to nibble on your earlobe. “I’ll keep you in here for as long as I need you. Ride your pretty little mouth as I read that book, fill you up again and again until you’re passing out. All you have to do is be a good little girl.”

Heat was curling through your body, that buzzing sort of heat, that made your vision blur. Your teeth were clamped together. You wanted to moan, they were in your throat, but even when you opened your mouth, no sound came out. Just silent moans. The fingers moving inside of you had grabbed all your attention.

Then she scratched that little sweet spot and it was that that pushed out a moan that bounced around the room. Wanda laughed, hitting it again and again.

“Let your mummy hear your moans, sweetheart,” she said before she pulled back to kiss you on the mouth, biting hard on your lip so you wouldn’t even try to close your mouth and stop the tongue that slid into your mouth.

Your stomach was twisting into knots at this point and seemed like every other muscle seemed to be cramping. You were close to climax. Your walls clenched around Wanda’s fingers. Just a little bit–

You groaned when she peeled herself off you. You blinked up at her, looking through what seemed like tears, as you were denied that relief. Relief from the throbbing coming from your cunt.

“You want to cum, baby?” Wanda asked as she pulled off her shirt. Underneath was a simple black bra that was quickly disposed of. Your eyes, naturally, landed on her chest. A chest that, even under the circumstances, made you drool. Wanda’s clicking your fingers drew your eyes back up. “Eyes on mummy, sweetheart. God, you really are a little whore, aren’t you? Tell me-do you want to cum?” You pulled on your restraints just once more but all it seemed to do was to make it even tighter.

You nodded, jerkily.

“Use your words, sweetheart, I very clearly established you’re not mute,” Wanda remarked as her fingers went down to her jeans, fiddling with her button.

“Yes. Please, I want to,” you mumbled, knowing you won’t be coming back from this point. Then again-if she could make you feel like that again...maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Wanda tilted her head as she hummed, not having to move much to slap your sore cunt again and you jerked. “Say it politely and maybe I’ll consider it.” You scrunch your eyes shut and mewled when she began to knead your pulsating clit again. “M-mummy, please,” you whispered and her hands left your cunt. Before you could even open your eyes, you felt her lips on yours. Soft, gentle...loving.

“Good girl...that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She asked and you could hear the ruffling of her pants as she kicked them off. “Now...mummy’s going into your head, okay? I promise it won’t be long.” You began to struggle again but the warmth of her powers quickly washed over you. Your memories began playing the past three months. You tracking her down. Refusing back up.

Then she was out again.

“You really told no one where you were going? Almost as if you wanted this to happen,” She said as she shifted on top of you. Shifted that you felt something rub up against your entrance and you flinched. She...she was packing. “Of course I am, sweetheart, do you really think I wasn’t prepared for you? I knew you were coming from a mile away, honey.”

And with that, she pushed the strap inside of you, not bothering to wait for you to adjust until she was completely inside of you. You arched your back again, pressing into Wanda’s naked body, as the pain of being ripped open rushed through your body. You moaned and grunted as you grew adjusted to the width and length of Wanda.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Wanda murmured into your lips and suddenly your wrists were freed. But then her own hands came up to wrap around them to press them against the pillows herself. “I know you’ve taken bigger. Do you think we didn’t know? Didn’t know you and Nat were fucking every other night?” The comment drew you out, just for a moment, and you shook your head but all she did was pull back slightly to slam inside of you again.

“Don’t lie to me,” Wanda snarled, “tell me, tell me the truth. Use your words.”

It took only a few more thrusts of her strap filling you up again and again that the words began to spill out of your lips. “S-she found out. About my status as a shield status. Fuck,” you hissed out, barely able to hear your own words over the lude noises of Wanda beginning to pound into you. This wasn’t fair-you couldn’t dream of talking when she was fucking you like this.

“So you whored yourself out to her to make sure she kept her mouth shut,” Wanda said, finishing the sentence and you nodded jerkily. “You little slut. I bet you liked it too, just like how you like me pounding into you. But you’re mine now. Not hers. Not Tony’s. Mine. My little whore.”

She shifted upwards so that her chest was dangling above your face. “Suck your mommy's tit, baby, I saw you admire them before.”

It was a welcome change, you had to admit, to trying to formulate sentences and words around the moans and screams spilling out of your mouth. Your head leaned forward, closing the distance, so your mouth could wrap around her erect nipple and your walls clenched around her strap as you heard her moan.

Her hand moved to the top of your head, her nails scraping against your scalp as she interwove her fingers through your messy hair. Your tongue lapped at the small bud between your teeth and she began to move her hips in time with your tongue.

Your now free hand wrapped around her body so your nails were digging into her shoulder, drawing Wanda down even closer so you could take more of her tit into her mouth.

The same heat that had built before was coming back, and you weren’t sure how long you could hold on at this point.

“You can cum whenever you want, baby, just this once,” Wanda purred, hearing your thoughts, and it was all you needed, that confirmation, to come undone. Your walls clenched around the strap and you could feel Wanda slowing down as thrusting became just a tad more difficult and you screamed into her tits, careful not to clamp your jaw shut, as the orgasm rushed through you.

Even through it, she continued moving inside of you, and you almost felt like you could pass out.

“Good girl,” Wanda whispered. “Oh, I could get used to this. I’m going to keep you in here, do you hear me? Make you a good little whore for me to come home to.” They did say your mission was to help Wanda calm down.

[kithtaehyung]

Room 3 | PJM

summary: it’s just another normal day for you at the wellness center until it suddenly isn’t.  note: standalone for now! part 2 is semi-written but no solid plans atm. note 2 (june 7th, 2021): this will be revamped in the future! i really enjoyed this premise so i won’t get rid of it completely.  pairing: idol!jimin x massage therapist!reader  genre: fluff  word count: 9,188

-

-

Thirteen. 

The sidewalk underneath your feet has thirteen cracks in the little square you stand in.  Sliding a small rock into one of them provides you with something to do until you hear the squeaking, screeching brakes of a bus struggling to a stop in front of you.  

You adjust the strap on your shoulder as the doors open with a hydraulic hiss, and you give the driver a small smile before finding a place to stand.  There aren’t many people commuting today, so it’s a pleasant surprise that you get to sit down for a change. 

It was just another day in your life.  You got up this morning and did your routine, listened to your wake up music on repeat, and checked that you had your wallet, phone, keys, and earphones before heading down to the bus stop.  The very same earphones are still on as you now have your library on shuffle, and you hum along to the “na na na’s” of the current tune. 

Living in Seoul for about a year now, you were pretty settled in.  The people were accommodating, the quality of life was much better than where you were before, and you felt like you could live here for the rest of your days.  It was insanely tough at first, but the initial culture shock and feeling of loneliness lessened as you made friends and befriended coworkers.  You don’t have many people close to you here, but you can count on the ones that are.  

You turn your head to gaze out the windows.  Shimmering glass buildings tower over you, shops and street signs whiz by, and people look like they’re walking in slow motion as you follow them with your eyes.  Blips of pastels and bold colors mingle together and you look down to observe your own monochrome uniform.  For the place you worked at, you didn’t expect the clothes to look luxurious, but they’re actually designed very well.  And they’re soft.  

That’s enough for you.    

Your stop is next, so you hook your arm around the nearest pole to prep.  The steel has a coldness that seeps into your sleeve, but your only thought is wondering what you should eat for lunch.  

-

Why do you feel so tense? 

The sign right above you emits a sense of relaxation, but there’s a tightness in your shoulders.  Odd.  You lock your phone with one hand and grip the strap of your pack with the other before taking a deep breath.  You count down from three before letting it out.  

The hiss of your exhale mingles with the standard sounds of the city, and you concentrate on the flow of life both inside your body and the environment around you.  You did this often when you felt out of place, and it served to recalibrate you and your thoughts.  Storing your phone away, you make your way inside the frosted glass doors. 

Working at one of Seoul’s prestigious wellness centers was definitely something you were proud of.  If there was one thing you’ve wanted for years, it was for a way for you to massage yourself.  Everyone seemed to love your massages, but no one knew how to massage you.  That is, until you came here.  You’ve never experienced people knowing exactly where you were hurting and effectively working out all of those kinks during one session.  It was magical.   

What is even more magical is the fact that you joined the ranks of those same angels from above.  You love them, and they love you.

“Good morning! I hate you!” 

Well.

“Morning, Yoon,” you respond lowly as you take your earphones out and store them. “Love you, too.” As you walk around front reception, Yoon smiles at you and comments, 

“No, really, I think you legitimately repulse me now.”

You shoot her a look of pure terror. “What the hell did I do?”

“Nothing,” she sighs, dropping her eyes to the papers in front of her.  

In a state of panic, your mind speeds through any events that happened since the last time you saw her.  Did you accidentally ignore her once?  Look at her funny?  Yoon was big on body language. 

You didn’t realize you were still staring at her until she tapped the glass counter between you two.  “Hey, I’m sorry. I know you’re nervous. I just thought jokes would help.” 

What? 

“I’m not nervous, just tense for some reason.  Although, you definitely made it worse,” you admit, “I might need to take a longer break today and somehow get Jay to rub my shoulders.  Maybe I can bribe him with samgy--” 

“--Uhh, forget him; have you even checked your client list for this week?  I’ll do anything if you switch your schedule with me.” 

Double-what?

“Okay, now you’re just being weird,” you chuckle, “But also, no, I haven’t checked yet.  It’s Monday!”   

In a sing-song manner, Yoon warns, “You better check your schedule before I snatch it...”

You laugh again and wave her off, but her words only mess with your head.  As you make your way to the back room, you fidget and check your phone for any notifications you missed between when you exited the bus and now.  You don’t know what you expected: still nothing.  

As if you feel the weight of eyes on you, you glance up and notice some people are giving you looks.  

What in the hell is going on?  It’s 7am on a Monday and therefore way too early for people to be this upset with you.  Yoon may have said she was joking, but by the looks of everyone else...

A hand claps onto your shoulder, causing you to yelp and feel like you rocket right into the ceiling.  Only the hearty laugh beside you clues you in on who you were getting revenge on later. 

“Geez, someone’s not looking forward to today.” 

“You better sleep with one eye open tonight, Jay,” you seeth, hands rubbing your temples as you struggle to steady your heart rate. “Also, what’s so special about today?  Yoon was being strange just a second ago, too.”  

Your coworker looks at you like you have seven heads. “Okay, first off: if I had the amount of adrenaline in your body right now, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.  And second: you didn’t check your schedule yet?” 

They didn’t know it, but they were going to be the death of you. 

“No, I ha--It’s a Mon--you know what, I’m going to check now; you guys are killing me.” You leave Jay in a rush and race to the employee lounge.  The anxiousness in your chest is bubbling over.  

Jay’s on your heels, whispering loudly, “I can spoil it right now if you want!” 

You respond in a low voice, “Don’t you have a client to see?” 

“Nope!” 

You round the corner and see the back room door is already open, so you power through and head straight for the docking table on the other side.  Everyone working here has a personal tablet, and you unplug yours from the charging port.  Pressing through the menus as quickly as the tablet allows, you feel a thin layer of sweat on your skin.  Touch ID.  Login.  Main Menu.  Scheduling.  Weekly Outlook.  Confidentiality Prompt.

Shit. 

Confidentiality Prompts are for the therapists that have huge clients scheduled.  They’re put in place for celebrities and business executives to have guaranteed privacy.  

With a start, you wonder why the hell Yoon wanted your schedule.  Everyone here is wary of high-profile people.  It’s a whole different experience since they basically hold your life in their hands in each session.  You recall a horror story that happened when you first started working there, and still don’t know where that employee ended up.  

Your only problem is that you’ve never had to deal with this before.  Jay, Yoon, and a bunch of the veterans have, but this is going to be your first. 

“Damn, yours is longer than mine was,” Jay observes before you squeeze your tablet to your chest.  “That looks intense.” 

“Umm, snoopy much?” You shift your body away from him and speed read through the very long, very wordy window.  When you hit Accept, another window pops up that you have to read through.  This one is even more fine print. You suddenly realize something and dart your eyes up.  “Wait, you got one, too?” 

Jay nods and looks away, and he actually looks nervous.  “Yeah, we all got them this time.” 

Now that is alarming.  This client must be something else. 

Window after window comes up and you wonder if you should probably read these in earnest.  It’s starting to genuinely scare you.  

If this is that big of a deal… 

You banish that thought from your mind as soon as it appears.  Elephants would have to fall from the sky before you believe someone from that group is booking you here.   

You hit Accept before you realize you didn’t actually read and instead mindlessly scrolled through the prompts.  As the screen buffers, you bite your lip.

The screen goes back to normal and presents your schedule for today.  Your coworkers are living their normal lives, putting their stuff in their lockers and getting materials ready for various sessions.  Jay is being completely normal as he can’t stop laughing at your expression.  

And your life is anything but normal anymore because elephants are dropping from the clouds and the words Monday, 8am, Park Jimin are staring you right in the face. 

-

“You mean to tell me that you cleared your morning schedule just to see my reaction?” 

Jay laughs in earnest. “Yes, and it was so worth it.” 

You are failing to stop bouncing your leg as you wait at one of the tables in the employee lounge.  There’s a cup of coffee in front of you, but you already know you aren’t going to drink a drop of it.  You are about to be in close quarters with the equivalent of a royal family member, so coffee breath is out of the question. 

Suddenly self-conscious, you ask, “Do you have a toothbrush I can borrow?” 

“I actually do.  Let me grab it.” 

As your friend gets up, you scrutinize the table in front of you to avoid peoples’ lingering stares.  How everyone somehow knew your upcoming client before you did was a mystery, but you don’t really care enough at the moment to find out.   

Jay hands you what you asked for and you thank him before heading to the bathroom to freshen up.  After you brush your teeth like a madman, you check your face for discrepancies and sigh at your choice of almost no makeup today.  

You can’t help but wonder if the thirteen cracks in the sidewalk are laughing at you at this very moment.  

Checking your smart watch, you realize you have either the longest or shortest 30 minutes of your life left before your appointment with Jimin.  

You huff out a laugh at how ridiculous that sounds.  You refuse to believe this is real until you physically see him in the room.  Confidentiality forms or not, the name Park Jimin or not, you still can’t wrap your head around the situation. 

Speaking of the forms, you assume that they were printed out for company records as soon as you submitted yours to sign.  You decide to head back to the front desk after throwing Jay his spare toothbrush, to which he responds with pure disgust. 

-

It was like Yoon was waiting for you because as soon as you open the glass doors, she’s  hounding you, “So what did you do in a past life?  Did you save an emperor?  Rescue a prophet?” 

“I don’t know about a past life, but I did save a turtle when I was five.”  You tap your fingers on the reception desk and stare at the orchids on the counter.  “Or at least I thought I did.  I probably just made his life harder.  Can I see a copy of the forms I signed?” 

“I’m gonna go with the saved prophet.  Which one was it?” 

“Yoon,” you beg, desperate as you glance at the abstract clock above her and see that you have 20 minutes left.  A mere 20 minutes until he is supposed to arrive to check-in.

“Okay, okay!  Hold on,” she chuckles and rolls her chair away from you and towards the printer.  “By the way, if I wasn’t the one checking him in, I would’ve hijacked your entire day already.”  

Her words are garbled since you are laser-focused on rubbing an orchid petal between your fingers.  Its soft and supple touch is calming you, and just for a second, you are able to clear your thoughts.  

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when Yoon hands you the forms.  The paper is still warm as you thank her and head towards the doors. 

“Oh, wait,” Yoon calls behind you, and you turn to see her grabbing another small stack of papers.  When she extends them over the counter, she explains, “I was waiting until you saw your schedule to hand these over.  Read through them carefully.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, even more anxious than before. 

-

Your heart jumps into your throat when you see what Yoon handed over.  You don’t even remember the walk to the back lounge and to one of the secluded tables; all you can focus on are the papers in front of you.  They look like they were written on and scanned before being sent over to the wellness center.   

It’s Jimin’s handwriting.  

You’ve seen his penmanship before.  There is no mistaking the neat, determined strokes.  Even the way he checked the boxes and circled the pain points on diagrams proves very... well, him.  Any other uncertainty dissolves after you see his birthday filled in, as well.  

This is really happening.

You gently slam the papers on the table and hunch over to commit the information to memory.  Months and months of schooling have sharpened this ability of yours, and you are determined to imagine this as just another client you have to memorize.  

Light to medium pressure.  Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back.  Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points.  Facial area priority.   

A trip to the countryside right at this very moment sounds like a fantastic idea.  

Jay plops into the seat in front of you, and that thought bubble bursts.  “This color on your face suits you.  Reminds me of what’s-his-name, Edward.” 

“How much time do I have,” you question, not even acknowledging him.  

“Seven minutes.” 

“Of course,” you mutter before standing, the irony not lost on you.  “I’ll go prep now.” 

You don’t see Jay waving you off.  “If you survive, I’ll see you on the other side!” 

A laugh escapes you.  Personally, your only goal is to make it through five minutes.  If you pass away after that, you would have no regrets. 

-

You stand behind the reception doors with your tablet to your chest, staring at the wall across the way.  The subtle wallpaper pattern is a great choice for this place, you decide. 

Indescribable anxiousness and fear aside, you have a job to do.  As long as you keep your outside actions professional, your inner turmoil can be whatever the hell it wants.  You’ve been in this profession long enough and you know you’re ready to do this.  You’ve seen the whole spectrum of human emotion in this line of work.  No matter how well of a job you do, there are still people that are never happy.  As long as you focus on keeping the client’s wellness and health in mind, you keep your consciousness clear.   

Then again, you haven’t had to deal with a client like Park Jimin before, let alone a high executive or well-known actress.  

A muffled “Good morning and welcome” reaches your ears and you push yourself off the wall.  The frosted glass only allows you to see so much, but you can make out a few guys standing in the front area.  Two are taller and only wearing dark clothes, and the other is a bit shorter.  The latter is looking to be wearing a beanie, light colored top, and dark pants.

You can’t hear anyone talking other than Yoon, but suddenly the shorter one makes his way to your doors.  

It’s him.  You’re absolutely sure. 

Steeling your resolve, you pull your side open.  With a smile, you look straight at your client’s sunglasses-and-mask-clad face and greet him just like you would anyone else, “Good morning and welcome.  Am I speaking to Mr. Park?”

He stills for a second before he nods. 

“Nice to meet you.  We’ll be in Room 3.”

-

Jimin bows to you slightly and whispers a thank you, and you follow him to your room.  Your heart is rattling nonstop as you note the height difference between the two of you.  It isn’t as bad as you thought it was.  

The door to Room 3 is already open, and when Jimin enters you stop at the entrance.  

You lied earlier.  None of this feels real.  He’s physically in the room, and you still don’t think this is happening.

You let Jimin put his bag down on the corner chair before gliding into the formal greeting, “Since this is our first session, please let me know if there’s anything you need.  I did go over your forms, but if there was something that wasn’t specified, feel free to ask.  I want to make sure all of your needs are met today.” 

“Your name?” 

You falter. “What?”  Did he just... 

Jimin takes off his sunglasses, and you feel all oxygen leave your body.  He’s still wearing a mask, but you can see that his eyes are creased just a tad.  “It wasn’t specified on the forms.  Your name?” 

A part of you just chalks this up to being standard Jimin behavior, but the other part of you wonders if he really didn’t know whom he was getting a massage from.  Did Yoon not tell him?  Check-in is supposed to confirm your specialist. 

You also note that his voice is infinitely softer in person.  TV and recordings did not do this man justice.  

Keeping it professional is all you must do.  You tell him your name, apologizing for not introducing yourself already.  It’s also on your tablet, so you show him while you talk. 

Jimin leans forward to read it and smiles again. “Ah.  Pretty.” 

Are your five minutes up?  Can you pass away now?  He’s a mere six feet away from you but it feels like his presence is engulfing you. 

All that escapes you is a tiny thank you.  “So, mhm,” you clear your throat and yell at yourself to get it together, “Go ahead and undress down to your comfort level and lie down on the bed with the sheet on top of you.  That remote there is connected to my tablet, so just take it off the charger and bring it to the bed. You can press the green button whenever you’re ready.” 

Jimin looks towards the console table next to him and sees the white remote.  It’s docked in a sleek charging port and stands out against the light wood.  He nods, and you give him one last smile before reaching out and closing the door.

-

The only words your brain can process at the moment are not work appropriate, so you just go on autopilot to the employee lounge.  You expected Jay or even Yoon to be chomping at your heels as soon as you left Jimin by himself, but neither of them are around.  That was completely fine: employees aren’t allowed to divulge anything that goes on in client sessions unless it’s dangerous to either of you. 

You help yourself to a cup of water and down it before pouring another.  The fruit flavor for today is strawberry, and you watch the fruit and ice swirl around as you stir the big glass container.  There are pastries and assorted breakfast foods calling your name in the clear cabinet next to you, but you refuse.  Your adrenaline is hindering your appetite.  

People are still giving you daggers for stares, but after seeing Jimin in person you really can’t blame them.  Even when you couldn’t even see his face, you felt his presence.  His aura filled up that entire room and he only spoke around ten words.  It would be a lie to say that you aren’t intimidated.  You can already count the number of times you almost bolted out of the room on two hands.  But you made yourself proud: as long as you keep your outer actions calm, you can get through this.  Your voice was fairly level for someone whose heart was bouncing out of their ribcage.  In the end, you want to make him feel comfortable and safe.  Emotions cannot exist right now.

Self-deprecation comes into play as you wonder if this is a huge mistake and if Jimin is already out the door to find a better therapist.  

Oh, well.  At least he said your name was pretty. 

Your doubts are casted aside as your tablet dings.  

Jimin’s ready for you. 

-

When you enter the room, you can see that your client followed your instructions completely.  You glance at the corner chair and see that he even folded his clothes and set his jewelry neatly on the thin, long table.  Since Jimin can’t see you from his position, you allow a warm smile to grace your features.  

You close the door as softly as you can.  The way the room is designed, the clients lie down so that their head is opposite the doorway.  It takes you a few steps until you reach the head of the bed.  You gingerly take the remote from where Jimin placed it next to his neck and turn around to redock it, and start to dim the lights with your tablet.  Per standard, you ask, “Mr. Park, is this okay, or would you like the lights lower?” 

His voice is projecting straight towards the floor, but it still sounds so light, “This is good, but please, call me Jimin.”  

That’s definitely not what you expected, but you are touched.  You nod before realizing that he still can’t see you.  “Do you have a music preference for today?”

“Whatever you prefer is fine.”  

Jimin is being so agreeable that your nerves start to dissipate.  You were expecting him to at least be a little particular at some things, but he is being really easy to work with.  The atmosphere starts to feel safe enough for you to joke, “Well, it does depend on my mood, so for now I’ll play Standard Spa Chord Progression, No. 5 instead of No. 3.” 

The small chuckle you hear melts your heart.  “Ah, is that the one with the harp?” 

“No, that’s Spa Concerto, No. 4. We don’t have that one in our library, but I think it’s terrible anyways.” 

Jimin’s head lifts from the table in an earnest laugh, and you can’t help but laugh with him.  It’s infectious.  

You select a random song on your tablet, and you weren’t lying when you said it was standard.  The song is less of a song and more like a bunch of reverberating chords in slow succession.  That’s one thing you noticed about this place: modern tech but very outdated music.  Get with the times!  At least have some nice piano covers to choose from. 

“Not having Spa Concerto, No. 4 may be a deal-breaker for me,” Jimin comments, a hint of a smile in his voice.  

You’re still tapping on your tablet to get to his file, and you make your way back to the door.  There’s a clear slot on each room’s door to hold employee tablets, and as soon as you store yours, you can finally start.  “I don’t blame you, even though I think it’s awful, that one still topped the char--Oh, shit!”   

You aren’t watching where you’re going, so you don’t see the shoes in your path.  It’s so dim in the room and his shoes match the floor color but none of that matters because right now you are falling and you are falling fast.  Your first instinct is to grab the table, but that would risk pulling the blanket off of Jimin and you would rather die than do that to him. 

So, floor it is.

Your hand not holding the tablet breaks some of the fall, but your face definitely makes contact with the ground.  You can feel the slight burn on your nose and hand, and a sharp lingering pain follows.  

Okay, now can you pass away.  Someone from the heavens can come claim you now.    

Drowning in shame, you don’t help yourself off the floor right away.  Not only were you breaking your rule and joking around, you also weren’t paying attention and now possibly ruined Park Jimin’s shoes.  

You’ll look up good resigning practices later tonight.  You have enough money saved up to make it a couple months without a job, you reckon.  

When you finally lift yourself off the floor, you turn around and see Jimin pushed up on the table.  His whole upper body is bare and twisted towards you, and this is the first time you see his entire face.  It’s more beautiful in person, you conclude, even though it conveys nothing but concern right now.  “Are you okay?” 

You nod furiously and stand up completely. Your voice is shaky as you apologize, “I am so sorry.  One moment.” Before checking yourself, you check your personal tablet.  To say it was worth more than you isn’t that far of a reach.  No scratches, though. Praise be.

“Don’t apologize… Did you trip on my shoes?”

Embarrassment washes over you as you nod, not looking at Jimin.  Placing your tablet gingerly on the console table, you dust your uniform down and inspect your hands and feel your nose.  Luckily, there’s no blood, only slight rug burns.  If there was blood, you would have to postpone the appointment until you effectively sanitized.  With what you have, you just need to go wash up.  

Jimin is still watching you intently, which makes your face burn even more.  What a mess.  He’s probably second-guessing this whole thing.  

You bow, feeling tears at the corners of your eyes.  “Mr. Park, I am so sorry.” 

“Jimin.” 

“I’ll just need to clean my hands and then I promise we will start as soon as I get back.  I know your time is valuable so I’ll make up for the minutes we lost.” 

“I… Okay.  Thank you.” 

You make your way out of the room, still courteous enough to shut the door quietly.  Rushing to the nearest sink, a small sob leaves your throat as you wring your hands under the water.  Life is kind to you at this moment because no one is around.  You would never live it down if someone saw you coming out of Jimin’s room crying.  

After splashing water on your face and drying it, you take out a cotton pad from one of the glass containers on the counter.  You press it onto your eyes, decreasing the evidence of your current state.  

So much for making Jimin feel safe and comfortable.  You’ve only made it awkward.   

-

With a deep breath, you enter the room.  

Jimin turns his head and puts it in the crook of his arm to look back at you.  “Are you sure you’re okay?  I’m sorry I couldn’t help you…”  

You go over to his shoes and move them under the chair, wincing when you see visible tears on them.  Guess you’re withdrawing a chunk of your savings to pay Park Jimin for damages.  

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you state firmly, but soften, “But I’m really sorry about the shoes; I may have torn them.  I can pay you back.” 

You hear sheets shuffling, and when you face him, Jimin’s fully on one elbow and turned towards you.  “No, please, don’t worry about those.  I should’ve put them out of the way.  I feel bad.”   

“It’s definitely my fault,” you countered, “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Jimin uses your name, which stops you in your tracks.  “Everything’s okay, I promise.”

You should feel many different things, like pride in getting to see this man in person, or happiness from him actually addressing you by name.  But all you can think about in this moment is how disappointing you’ve been to another human being, and you sigh.  

You nod, but still plan to pay him back.  You know enough about designer brands to know those aren’t cheap, and they’re shoes you’ve seen him wearing a lot in photos.  

“It’s okay to lie back down,” you say softly, unmoving.  

Jimin searches your face one more time before settling back face-down on the table.  

It’s a normal day at work, you tell yourself.  Go through your routine.  

Launching yourself into action, you move to the far end of the console table.  Grabbing a bottle you’ve clutched so many times before that its label is wearing down, you uncap it and oil your hands and wrists.  You also unstopper a bottle of lavender oil and pour a few drops into the nearby bamboo diffuser and start it.  

You make your way to the head of the table and grab a rolling stool from a corner of the room.  The wheels on your chair don’t make any noise, which you fixed up yourself.  This day isn’t any different - it’s still silently gliding on the carpet.  Plopping your devastated self onto the cushion, you scoot towards Jimin’s head.  You’re about to place your hands onto his bare shoulders to start, but you whisper,

“It’s also okay if you want to cancel and reschedule with someone else, Mister--Um, Jimin.” 

You can’t believe you just gave Park Jimin a way out of a whole 60 minutes with you.  Where did this conviction and restraint come from?  Is this going to be the regret of your entire lifetime? 

After a long silence, Jimin answers with his face in the headrest, “If you call me Mister Jimin again, then I will.”

You huff out a laugh at his unexpected answer, and your shoulders finally relax.  It seems like he’s still fine after everything that’s happened, and you thank any deity you can think of for this second chance.  

-

Light to medium pressure.  Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back.  Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points.  Facial area priority. 

You aren’t a fan of light pressure, but you understand why people prefer it.  Not everyone can handle the deep tissue or harder pressure massages. 

Jimin’s shoulders are incredibly tense, though, so you feel bad that you’re limited in what you can do.  You allow some medium pressure to the worst spots, and when you approach the insides of his shoulder blades you lessen the intensity.  

Gliding your fingers back to the ridge between his neck and shoulders, you feel that his right is still tight.  You use your left elbow to work that knot, careful to press even lighter than you would with your hands. 

Jimin grunts, and you still. “Is that too much?”

“No, I like that.”

You keep that in mind as your hands travel over the rest of his upper back area.  From time to time, you reapply the oil to allow for less friction.  It lets your fingers slide deftly across muscles and quickly work any troublesome areas, which Jimin has a lot of.

It makes sense: you can’t even imagine the amount of pressure all of the boys were constantly dealing with.  There was a lull in their activity recently, so you knew something was in the works.  Between recording songs, shooting music videos, fulfilling their brand contracts, and whatever else they do, you’re surprised you don’t feel more knots under Jimin’s skin. 

The soft chords of the next song float around the room, and you lose yourself in your movements.  You can’t see his face, which makes it a lot easier.  You worked through his whole upper body, neck, and upper arms area so naturally that you were admiring his wrist tattoo before remembering who you were massaging.    

For the seven hundredth time that day, you cannot believe this is happening.  You really hope Jimin does feel safe here despite your whirlwind of thoughts.  Have you kept it professional enough?  Neutral enough?  He seemed to be fine with your joking earlier, and he didn’t seem upset about the shoes in the least.  

But still… Maybe he was just tolerating you because it’s the same situation for him, different place and day.  Putting yourself in his shoes, you would feel pity for you trying your best to accommodate him.  The pressure over everyone everywhere you go had to be exhausting.  It couldn’t ever be normal.  

Your shoulders suddenly slump under the weight of what you feel for him.  

And Jimin seems to notice.  “Really, it’s okay about the shoes.  Those were getting pretty worn anyways.” 

You still.  Of course he thought you were still fussing over the shoes and not over his life.  His unending consideration was like a burning hearth: it made you feel so warm.

“Okay,” you respond softly, “I understand.” 

“Good.  If you worry about them again, I’m walking out barefoot,” Jimin says sternly, even though you know he’s kidding.  “And don’t test me, I’ve done it before.” 

Your words leave you before you think.  “I don’t believe you.” 

“Oh?” 

Jimin puts his hands on the table and you yelp, “Okay, okay, stop!” 

He laughs and plops his arms back down flat.  You lament as you still can see how his muscles bulge in your mind.  

You shake your head and sigh before rolling to his left and softly taking his arm.  His skin is so soft you don’t even need the oil, you notice.  You work his forearm before moving down to his wrist and fingers.  Thinking about Jimin’s threat, you are pretty curious.  “Be honest: did that really happen?” 

“It didn’t,” he responds immediately, “But I thought about it once.  My shoes were killing my feet so I thought about walking without them until I found a shoe store.” 

It sounds so childish to you that you chuckle.  “Where was this,” you ask, completely intrigued now.

“Ah, I honestly can’t remember.  I think somewhere in Europe.”

“...Did you just pick an entire continent because you couldn’t remember?”

“...There’s seven continents and one of them is Antarctica!  Picking one out of six is easy.”

This man is something else. You finally finish off his right side, and you gingerly set his arm down on the table.  With a mental pat on the back, you get ready for the next part of the routine.  In your softest therapist voice, you instruct, “Okay, go ahead and turn over and slide down until your head is on the table.”

Jimin obeys right away, shifting over and moving down.  The white sheet slips down his body a bit, and you diligently pull it up until it’s covering everything up to his neck.  During this, you feel rather than see his eyes on you, so you don’t dare yourself to look. 

You go back to your plethora of containers to re-oil, and roll your chair to the foot of the table. All that time, Jimin thankfully has his eyes closed. 

You were equal parts dreading and looking forward to this part of the massage since his face was going to be visible.  This way, you can’t escape the reality of the situation.  

But you decided to follow the flow of the conversation.  You learned the subtle nuances of human communication throughout your experiences: when people wanted to talk or stay quiet, if they were liking the conversation or not, etc. Jimin seems to be fine with talking despite your assumption that he was going to be quiet for the most part.  It has definitely made this easier for you, though. 

“I want to visit all seven continents one day,” you decide to admit. 

“I do, too,” Jimin responds, eyes still closed. “How many do you have left?”

You start on his feet, working along the smooth skin. 

“Uhh, well,” you whisper, “A good chunk. I’ve only been here and back where I’m from, and I just moved here around a year ago.”

After you tell Jimin where you were before, he sounds amazed, “You seem like you’ve lived here for so long. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

He’s definitely being nice.  You are just now getting decent at the language and customs, but there is still a lot you have to learn.

“But, I do want to start traveling again for a specific reason,” you divulge, sighing to yourself as you think yet again about your lofty dreams.

“Which reason is that,” Jimin asks, and you somehow know his eyes are open now. 

Your own eyes betray you as you connect your gaze with his. “I want to experience different techniques in person.” You don’t know he can feel the fire behind your eyes. “There’s no better teacher than experience, at least to me. I know I’m good at what I do currently, but there’s so much out there that I want to learn and get better at.”

You debate whether to keep going or not.  Jimin’s eyes are alight with curiosity, so you take that as your cue. It’s surreal that you get to talk about your dream with him of all people, so you strive to make it count. “Take music, for example: everyone agrees that music is healing, therapeutic.  But, there’s so many genres, so many ways to create it.  I see massage as the same way: therapeutic, but many different ways to make people feel better.” 

Jimin is silent as he tears his gaze from you to look at the ceiling. You concentrate on his ankles, working them as delicately but effectively as you can.  A part of you wants to keep talking, but you don’t want to push it. You may have said too much as it is.

The next song has soft chimes to accompany the rippling chords.  Lavender wafts through the air and quells your nerves.  You continue to Jimin’s lower legs and glide your fingers along the flow of his muscles.  When you feel a break or disturbance, you stop and tend to it until you feel it’s balanced.  After his lower legs are done, you move on to his thighs.  You feel tightness all over, and you apply medium pressure to these areas because of how much muscle they contain.  

Jimin’s legs are a work of art on the outside, but so chaotic on the inside.  The chakra highways are disjointed, and you have worked through so many kinks in the roads.  If you imagine yourself as someone walking down a path, you are stopping every 10 steps to smooth over a pothole or breakdown a hill in the way.  You can’t see how this person can even walk, let alone perform on stage like this.  All of them never cease to amaze you.   

“Where would you start?”

Jimin’s sudden inquiry throws you.  You swear he was silent for a good ten minutes.  “What?” 

His eyes are glued to the ceiling still.  “Which places do you want to visit?  Like, where would you go to learn?” 

“Well…”  You are almost too stunned to speak.  He has been thinking about what you said this whole time?  Aren’t there plenty of more important things he needs to be thinking about right now?  “There’s this technique called amma that originates in Japan, and there’s an American technique called esalen that I want to learn, too.  I think that one is from California.”  

On a high from Park Jimin’s interest in your life, you ramble about a few more, your voice getting more animated the more you talk about different things.  It can’t be helped; you’ve been passionate about traveling and learning for so long.  You’ve just never been able to really try it since money was part of the equation.  Or more so out of the equation.  In addition, you didn’t really get to talk about it with anybody.  No one’s actually asked.  But somehow, Jimin did.  

When you realize you actually stopped massaging his thigh, you look up in horror to apologize, “Oh, I am so sorry - I didn’t mean to stop.” 

Jimin’s head is turned to the side, his hair falling into his eyes.  The smile gracing his face is soft.  “It’s okay,” he assures you, “I feel much better already anyways.” 

Your cheeks flush before he even stops talking.  “That’s good,” you whisper, “We’re almost done so I would hope so.” 

“What!” Jimin’s eyes dart to the clock on the table.  It’s already 8:50am.   

That saddens you a lot more than it should. 

“On second thought: I feel tense in my hand, I think you need to go back and redo it.  Here.”  He’s extending his right hand towards you as if to shake hands, and you laugh.  

“Nice try, Jimin,” you say, “But I do need to work on your face for the last part.  Close your eyes for me, please.” 

He stares at you for a second before obeying.  The smile from earlier makes a return.  

You roll your chair back to the head of the bed and plop down.  Jimin’s face is angelic even upside-down, and you pray to the heavens that you massage it perfectly.  

When you start, you quip, “See?  You’re so happy we’re almost done.” 

“No, no!” Jimin laughs.  “That’s not it.  You just called me Jimin - it was nice.”  

“Oh.”  You swear steam is billowing from your head.  How can he affect you so intensely?  And how were you keeping yourself together?  

With the resolve of a thousand emperors, maybe including one you probably did save in a past life, you steady your hands on his temples.  Rubbing in delicate circles, you start the last segment.  

Face massages are your favorite.  Even the smallest movements are invigorating, and you feel very refreshed after one.      

“When I come back, Spa Concerto, No. 4 better be available.” 

You smile.  There’s no way Jimin will be back, but you appreciate his friendly nature.  

“It’s not even all that great, but I’ll let them know,” you play along. “I’m more of a piano person, though. There’s a lot of piano covers saved in my phone that are way better.” 

Jimin’s eyes flash open at the same time he proclaims, “Ah, I love piano covers!  Especially on rainy days.”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, “I can listen to those all the time.”

Your heart drops like a stone as you glance at the clock and see your time is up.  The hour absolutely flew by.  Dropping your eyes back onto Jimin’s face, you take your hands off his cheeks and say, “Okay, that’s the end of our session today.” You get up to dry your hands and lower arms with a cloth while going over the last steps, “I’ll leave you to get dressed, and I’ll come back to the room to give you water and some stretch and wellness recommendations moving forward. Just press the green button on the remote when you’re ready, like last time.”

When you turn back to him, Jimin’s fully propped up with his hands behind him. The blanket over him is draped across his body, just enough to cover his ribs.  He’s smiling right at you as he speaks, “Thank you.  You’re really good.” 

You bow in thanks, face lighting up like wildfire. “You were great, too,” you comment in return, immediately cringing inside. “I’ll be back when you’re ready for me.”

-

Right after you leave clients is when you start filling out their evaluation and wellness recommendations on your tablet.  You just worked on them, so the memories are fresh.  The forms are a mix of multiple choice and fill-in, and you recommend some specific stretches and deeper pressure for Jimin. 

This time, Jay is in the employee lounge when you come in to wait.  His legs uncross and he pops up from one of the modern loveseats that are just as firm as they look.  “She’s alive!” 

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the flush in your cheeks.  “I’m here, but barely,” you chuckle, your tablet dangling in your hand by your side, “I still can’t believe that actually happened.”

Jay leans in so that no one can hear what he has to say, which makes you suspicious since there’s no one around you.  In a low voice, he reveals, “Yoon and I made a bet.” 

“Wonderful,” you drawl, “I’m gonna walk away now.”  You can already tell this is one-hundred percent not in your favor.

“No, wait!” His whisper is loud. He bounces after you to the water and food station. While you fix yourself a cup, he continues, “Yoon thinks you’ll get done with the appointment unscathed, but I think you’ll come out of it with a problem.” 

Jay’s words remind you like alarm bells.  

You need to pay Jimin for damages.  

“Oh, shit, I need to get something,” you say in a rush, grabbing your tablet off the food station and scurrying to the locker room.  In the wellness center, the employee lounge is in the back, and the locker room is in the back of the lounge.  You think you still have time before Jimin is ready. 

There’s a notebook you keep in your bag along with a pencil case.  Tearing a sheet from the notebook, you write down what you think is a good estimate for the shoes.  Before you write anything else, you pause.  

You only skimmed through the confidentiality prompts, but you do remember a section about personal information.  Therapists aren’t allowed to give out their personal information unless specifically asked, and there has to be solid intent behind the client asking.  Jimin didn’t need to ask you for yours; he just said not to worry about it. 

After a good thirty seconds of your pen lingering above the paper, your tablet chimes.  

A split second decision has you crumpling the paper and chucking it in your bag.  You tear out a new sheet and tuck it with the pen under your tablet as you head back to Room 3.

-

You get to the room with a paper cup of water you grabbed on the way, and since you have things in both hands it’s a bit difficult getting the door open.  You try the handle but it only jiggles a bit.  One more try has you pushing the door right as the handle gives, and it works.

Jimin goes to you immediately when he sees your hands full, and you almost reel back from having him so close.  Which should be odd, since you were literally just with him for a full hour, and he was not fully clothed.  In the end, his presence alone is enough to affect you no matter the situation. 

You extend the cup to him and he grabs it with a small thank you.  

“I filled out your evaluation and it should be printed at the front already.  Make sure to drink more water after you leave,” you say with a smile, your chest heavy.  This was most likely the last interaction you would ever have with him. 

Jimin nods, his mask covering his smile but not his eyes.  He doesn’t say anything more. 

You almost leave it at that, but something in you doesn’t want this moment to end, so you take your chance. “And, umm,” you stutter as you fumble with the pen and paper.  You just lay your tablet on the massage table to free your hand, and click the pen open.  “How much should I pay you,” you ask, your gaze ironically on the very shoes you tripped over earlier. 

Jimin sets his cup down on the console table before taking the paper and pen from your hands.  You watch him write something - a price in Won most likely - as you explain, “I’m a big believer of making things right, so please let me pay for your shoes.  I should’ve seen them on the ground.”

He folds the paper and hands it back to you with the pen.  “If you insist.  But don’t check this until you get home.” 

“What, why?”  Your eyes dart to his face. 

Jimin stares at you before responding, “Nothing bad. It just might shock you.” 

Immediately, your gaze lowers.  If you tell anyone how your day went today, you would think they were weird if they believed you. If you tell anyone why you’re suddenly broke come this Wednesday, they would be lying if they just went with it.  “Okay, I won’t,” you assure him, and you’re telling the truth.  You are equal parts surprised and nervous that he’s allowing you to pay him back. 

With a deep breath, you give Jimin your best soft smile.  Your heart is hurting as you send him off, “Well, it was a pleasure.  Have a great rest of your day, Jimin.  Until next time.”  You catch yourself in a sea of emotion as your words die on your tongue.  The boys have schedules on schedules, so the likelihood of him stepping foot inside this wellness center again is minuscule at best.    

If anything, you’re grateful that you get to address him by name, and you succeeded in making this as smooth and safe as possible for him.  At the expense of a scraped nose and hand, but rather you than him.  

Jimin hoists his bag on his shoulder, the water cup you gave him already in the trash bin.  He walks right up to you and stands there, and you swear both of you can hear your heart beating.  One of his hands comes up to his masked face, and he speaks softly as he advises, “Ointment will help your nose if it still hurts.” 

Warmth blooms in your chest and cascades all the way to your fingertips.  Mirroring him, you bring a hand up to your nose and nod.  Your words tumble out, “Oh, yes, you’re right.  I can check if we have any in the back.”  

Satisfied, Jimin nods.  “Until next time,” he offers, his eyes creased and warm. 

You smile again and bow slightly.  He puts on his shades before heading out the door frame and into the hall, and you feel emptiness in his wake.  The world is fuzzy around your vision and you are trying so hard to commit everything that just happened to memory.  

Until the doors to front reception close, you watch Jimin’s retreating back.  When the frosted doors close shut, you close your own door to Room 3 and lean against the wooden frame.  The scrap of paper is creased in your hand as you clutch it to your hammering chest.  

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself.  It takes a good minute for you to compose yourself before pushing off the door and getting the room stripped and ready for the next session.  The whole time, you replay everything in your head.  

Jimin was just as nice as you have seen him through the lens of cameras.  If that was the case, all of them had to be the same way.  You are proud to like these wonderful people.  

You’re so happy you got to actually spend all this time with him, but that just magnifies the sadness you feel when it’s over. 

-

The room is done and cleaned up, and you go through the rest of the day on autopilot.  Not even Jay’s constant teasing could free you from your euphoria-numbed state.  The only thing that throws you back into focus is Yoon, and it happens at the very end of the work day.  

You push open the doors to front reception, and smile big at your friend behind the counter.  She’s beaming right back at you, and she puts her chin in her hand and shakes her head. 

“That must’ve been one hell of a message,” she says through a barely contained smile.  

Your hand flies to your forehead and you nod.  “I can’t believe that happened, Yoon.  I mean, it was really him.  Opportunity of a lifetime… I just hope he enjoyed the whole thing.” 

“You could say that,” she chuckles, “Enough to book you again, at least.” 

What?

“He did?” Your breath leaves you in a rush.  “If you’re joking with me, I’ll--” 

“--He did.  It’s not for a long time, but he asked for you specifically.”  Yoon gathers papers in her hand and starts to organize them in the containers behind her.  “You really piss me off, you know that?” 

“Love you, too,” you whisper, your head completely above the clouds.  You grab your phone and start checking your schedule from the wellness center app you have installed.  Grabbing the door handle, you absentmindedly wave back to Yoon and call out, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

The sun emits a golden glow at this hour, and the glass buildings along the street bask in its shine.  You head towards your bus stop while skimming your calendar for Jimin’s next appointment, but you’re already four months out and see nothing.  Not losing hope, you keep going and see a booking six months in advance.  Your heartbeat skips as you click on the appointment, and almost skids to a halt when you see his name written down.

-

As soon as you enter your small apartment, you head straight to your bed and drop your bag on the comforter.  Your whole body bounces as you plop yourself down next, and you stare straight at the ceiling.  

Your life is still normal, right?  Sure, you were able to spend an entire hour with Park Jimin, but that didn’t mean you aren’t still completely and utterly average.  

You close your eyes and go back to Room 3.  The scent of lavender fills your nostrils and you can still see his number tattoo as plain as day as you massage his wrist.  

In all honesty, it still feels like a fever dream.  That was someone else’s life you were able to live, someone else there with Jimin and you just decided to hitch along for the ride.  

But that was real, and so is the amount of money you still need to withdraw from your bank account.  

With a sigh, you reach into your bag and take out the piece of paper.  You were dreading this moment all day since he left.  Unfolding it, you prepare for the worst. 

But all you can do is stare.  

Jimin didn’t write down a price at all. 

Your name is at the top, and the rest is as follows:

Save your money for traveling and learning new things, not on me. I can’t wait to see what you’ve learned when we meet again.

-

-

a/n: thank you for reading! if you guys have any comments or feedback, please feel free to let me know!

[ectonurites]

so i want to read red robin but uh. i'm missing a lot of context so do you know which comics i should read before starting it?

Okay. So. Red Robin 

Ideally, Red Robin comes after reading through Tim’s Robin run in general, as it’s basically a continuation of that comic. It’s not like you need to read every single comic he’s appeared in before or anything like that... but I just definitely wouldn’t recommend this being like... the first major Tim-focused story you read, if that makes sense? The way he acts in Red Robin hinges upon a lot of previous things having happened, as opposed to him acting like his more normal self. 

But lets go into some specific things that are important for understanding what’s going on in Red Robin assuming you’ve got some basic Tim info/understanding under your belt already:

Final Crisis - What happened to Bruce during Final Crisis is essentially the main driving force of the first bit of Red Robin, in general I’d recommend reading the whole event to understand it because just part of it without context would probably be really confusing (this is the reading list I used) but it can definitely be... overwhelming, it was a huge thing. The parts with Bruce are what’s most relevant: Batman #682-683, Final Crisis #6-7 and Superman/Batman #76

Robin (1993) - As I said above, in general Red Robin is the continuation of Tim’s Robin run. Events from the last major arc ‘Search for a Hero’ (Robin #177-183), which has the same writer as the second half of Red Robin, are especially relevant. In general though, reading through Tim’s Robin run helps you to... understand Tim more, and kinda see how the things he’s going through in Red Robin are a change for him, he’s acting a lot darker and edgier than normal because of all the things he’s been going through basically since War Games happened. (Steph’s death during that event was kinda the kickoff of his traumas in the 2000s, as it was followed by his Dad’s death in Identity Crisis, Kon’s in Infinite Crisis, and Bart’s in The Flash: Fastest Man Alive. While these don’t all specifically get referenced in Red Robin necessarily, and aside from his Dad they do all come back, these incidents along with Bruce’s apparent fate during Final Crisis are all things that have been weighing on him heavily and contribute to his mental state)

Battle for the Cowl - While this is kinda a hot mess of an event (particularly for Jason), it’s extremely important for context. Here’s a reading list, although personally I’ve just read the TPB for the event that I physically own that just has the main BftC comic & the two Gotham Gazette issues, which is what’s most relevant for Tim specifically.

That’s the like, most important context stuff going into it I think? There’s definitely a few other things potentially worth checking out like the rest of the Batman: Last Rites tie-ins (Batman #682-683 & Robin #183 that I already listed above are part of that, those are most relevant for reading Red Robin but for a general understanding of what else is happening in Gotham at the time consider checking out the rest), which all lead into Battle for the Cowl.

After Battle for the Cowl, the Batman: Reborn event is what establishes the new status quo in Gotham. (Red Robin #1-4 is considered part of this event. While you don’t need to read every other Batman: Reborn thing to understand what’s going on in Red Robin, certain little details and questions you may have about characters who are now in different positions than before are explained in the other titles so it’s worth looking into. But all of these were coming out around the same time as Red Robin so it’s not so much a ‘read before’ as a ‘read alongside if you’re interested’ ya know?) 

Then I know you didn’t ask for this but I’d like to add a few specific things I think are helpful to read during Red Robin, some the Red Robin comic itself will tell you about as they crossover but some it won’t!

Adventure Comics #3 - This one it’s kiiinda hard to tell exactly where it fits into Red Robin, some time during the first arc when Tim’s on his search still, my best guess is just sometime before Red Robin #4. This is essentially Tim & Kon’s first real reuniting since Kon came back to life during Final Crisis: Legion of 3 Worlds. This issue also references things with Tim that happened during the One Year Later part of Teen Titans (2003) in issues #34-37. It doesn’t necessarily do too much to the plot of Red Robin but I think it’s relevant reading, and it later gets referenced in Red Robin #9.

Blackest Night: Batman - This one... also kinda hard to figure out exactly where it fits in, I think right after Red Robin #5 makes the most sense since it’s definitely before #6 (because Tim references the event during that issue) but it has to be after he finds what he finds in #4, and #4 kinda goes directly into #5. This is a tie in for the Blackest Night event but as long as you get the basic premise of ‘Black Lantern rings make zombies’ then it can be read pretty independently. 

Batgirl - It’s very clear where this crossover happens in the comic, After Red Robin #9 read Batgirl #8, then the rest of the arc is continued in Red Robin #10 and on. 

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne - So, this book builds on Tim’s findings earlier in Red Robin as well as what Dick and Damian discovered/pieced together in Batman and Robin (2009) Issues #7-12 in regards to what happened to Bruce during Final Crisis. I’d recommend reading the first two issues of this (Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #1-2) before Red Robin #16. Then after that issue, read the rest (Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #3-6). Alternatively you could just read all of it after #16, before the next thing I’m about to list, it doesn’t make a huge difference. It’s just that in Red Robin #16 Tim references that the events of this book had already started, but he hadn’t become involved yet, and he gets involved in #3. Regardless, read this before The Road Home: Red Robin.

The Road Home: Red Robin - This one is specifically mentioned to take place after Red Robin #16, but I’d really really recommend reading Return of Bruce Wayne first and then this. Afterwards go back into Red Robin #17.

Teen Titans - This crossover technically is first teased at the end of Teen Titans #91, but primarily starts in Red Robin #20 and then continues into Teen Titans #92.

Judgement on Gotham - This event starts in Batman #708, crosses over into Red Robin in Issue #22, Gotham City Sirens #22, and ends in Batman #709.

There are a few other things Tim shows up in around this time (The Gates of Gotham series is the first thing coming to mind, as well as after the crossover with them he rejoins the Teen Titans, but he also just shows up occasionally in the other bat books based in Gotham during this time) but they don’t really have any effect on the plot of Red Robin specifically.

I hope this makes sense and isn’t too confusing! In general like, this era between Final Crisis and the New 52 had so much going on in the Bat books that there’s like... lots of moving pieces to keep track of. Hopefully this can at least point ya in the right direction. 

[shijiujun]

hey so uh, it's 110% Not Your Job, but can i ask for like a crash course on these chinese bl series that are everywhere around me but i don't know them. like i'm familiar with the untamed or however many names it has but i'm seeing two or three more???? help please if you can thank you

hello!! oh no worries, i happened to be looking for a distraction too so this was timely hahaha although it’s a pretty broad question since there are so many new live adaptations coming out (and some which have already come out which are featured as bromances), but let me see if I can like round this up for you a little. 

*i may be giving you a bit more than you need or like irrelevant stuff, but i guess i’m bound to hit something hahaha

Okay so the chinese BL series you’re talking about is The Untamed, and since you said you’re familiar I won’t get into it in detail, BUT just for like flow’s sake:

The Untamed (Chen Qing Ling) is based on the danmei (BL) novel written by MXTX, called Mo Dao Zu Shi (and yes however many like English translations to this title there is), or MDZS for short. You watched the live-action, and there’s like a lot of other versions of it e.g. the anime, the chibi anime, audio dramas etc. etc. the list goes on. In case you still haven’t seen any of those, just glance through this masterpost made by @the-social-recluse​ - In any case, right now everything is sort of already out EXCEPT:

MDZSQ - chibi donghua, cutest shit you’ll ever see

More MDZS merch 

Some teasers from MDZS mobile game which has been one year and developing

Now moving on to other BL series floating around so frequently - MDZS is the second book that MXTX wrote. So there’s SVSSS (The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving-System), which is also called lovingly by others in the fandom by Scumbag System/Villain in short, this is MXTX’s first danmei novel. Right now if you’ve seen this on Tumblr, it’s the anime (donghua) version - 10 episodes only for Season 1, available on WeTV with subs, finished airing like a few weeks ago. Translations of the novel are definitely out in full somewhere.

An absolute mess, but an organized one

Tried to do a manhua but failed

Everyone thought the donghua wouldn’t air on time either (it has a history of dropping development halfway) but it did

Would probably be the most entertaining if ever dealt with a live-action

And then there’s arguably, the most beloved child out of all three novels (at least right this moment) - TGCF (Tian Guan Ci Fu, or Heaven Official’s Blessing). This is the third and so far last (???) danmei novel MXTX has written, main pairing invented love. Strawhat-wearing scrap collector smiley angel with devoted kid-turned-adult-turned-ghost-king who follows smiley angel for like many years because he loves him. Anyway, if you’re seeing this, once again on Tumblr a lot, it’s the donghua version you’re seeing. Still airing, I think we’re midway through the whole season, the yelling starts Saturday (Asia time zone) and then extends into Sunday, sometimes Monday.

There’s like a god-tier Eng translation in full for TGCF by Suika

There is a manhua for this as well, only like 45 chapters in, but the time Jan/Feb 2021 rolls around, the donghua would have overtaken the manhua progress on the storyline HAHAHA

Apparently the director/production team who did CQL/The Untamed managed to get the rights to filming its live-action, but heh nothing much about that just yet aside from casting rumours and fans worrying that the casting will be done wrongly and also that they won’t be able to do justice to the story.

Alright now that we’ve more or less cleared MXTX and what everyone is hyping over (for good reason), let’s move on to the other CHINESE BL stuff you could be seeing (although I feel like you might not actually be asking about this), and these will all be live-actions (I’m also only clearing SOME of this year’s stuff, so none from before 2020, don’t ask me why I didn’t leave Guardian or SCI up here):

✨✨✨ Already aired, done and dusted or maybe ongoing, just ones I see on my dash and notifs so I definitely am biased ✨✨✨

The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty (Cheng Hua’s Fourteenth Year) - Many episodes, much bromance, base novel is gay af, but live action is cute af. Read more here and full translation is not yet done I think

My Roommate is a Detective - THIS IS A SPECIAL MENTION. NOT BL. Doesn’t even have like a book to go along with it, it’s just I’ve seen people getting into this again and creating content, so idk, imma just leave this here. It ain’t BL but it got the most glaring BL-esque relationship I’ve ever seen in my life. You’ll get what I mean if you watch it

The Lost Tomb Reboot - AGAIN another special mention, because many handsome young-ish men who you know, head into tombs, much bromance. Based on a huge series of novels, totally not BL, but as always with like a lot of men put into one story, ships happen. This year as well, in case you’ve seen it floating around

✨✨✨  Upcoming Chinese BL live-action adaptations, confirmed + casting + filming. You may have seen some of these because like posters were recently released etc. - As far as I know these are all slated for 2021 ✨✨✨

Faraway Wanderers (Tian Ya Ke) - A danmei novel by Priest, filming wrapped up, should be airing soon. Leads are pretty cute, although I’m sure they’ll turn this bromance. One of the male leads is known for a lot of period web dramas, and Gong Jun, the other male lead, is known for more contemporary modern dramas, but damn Gong Jun’s jawline

Winner is King (Sha Po Lang) - Another danmei novel by Priest, filming wrapped up recently as well if I recall? Posters recently released, and this is arguably Priest’s most famous and popular danmei

Immortality (Hao Yi Xing) - A super popular danmei novel called 2ha or The White Husky and His White Cat Shizun by Meat Bun. Filming also... wrapped? I think, because posters came out the next day and everyone from Earth to Pluto went mad, definitely one you should look out for next year spring i think, but I’m pretty sure there’s gonna be a hell lot more teasers, posters etc. coming up and then half of danmei Tumblr will probably go into cardiac arrest

The Society of Four Leaves (Zhang Gong An) - Ehhhh I think this hasn’t yet been filmed but casting was recently confirmed (contentiously).  Concept posters are up though. This technically isn’t classified officially as a BL. There are no CPs officially in the novel, but apparently it’s very like idk flirty etc., also slated for next year

*There are a few more by Priest, e.g. Liu Yao, but no concrete news that I’ve seen (by now like at least 60% of her danmeis either have a live-action contract or a donghua contract or both lmao)

✨✨✨  Upcoming Chinese BL donghua adaptations (2021-ish). All by Priest✨✨✨

*Throwing this in just as a by the way thing, because these are also recent news (these two weeks). There might be more but I haven’t seen anything yet personally :D

Imperfection (Can Ci PIn) - Space AU, the novel won like two national literary awards if I recall like last year? Anyway a brief trailer recently came out last week I think, and main lead is handsome af, and once again it’s space and space wars so it’s pretty cool

Silent Reading (Mo Du Zhe) - Novel is called Mo Du, and honestly I think the donghua has been like teasing fans for like idk years, but it looks like we’re finally getting to the donghua as the team previewed the first ep like... two weeks ago live to an audience? Modern crime thriller thing, there’s a masterpost going on Tumblr

Lie Huo Jiao Chou - Another Priest fan favourite, a historical + modern danmei combination. Much angst from what I’ve seen, but donghua teaser looked good also, released also last week

---

anyway hopefully some part of this or at least one part answers your question? if not, just send me another ask or like, DM me hahahaha

[rigelmejo]

Some September 1st Updates

the READING SPEED difference of a novel at my level! I read the first chapter of 撒野 yesterday and this author is at exactly my reading level right now. I hit 0-2 new words each pleco page, which is usually the sweet spot to either guess the word or if I look it up I can pretty quickly adapt to recognizing it in context. Its also the sweet spot where if I only rely on guessing for new word meanings, on a second pass through I can fairly well guess the meaning quickly. 

It was a 32 page chapter in pleco and I read it in 20 minutes. Compared to the 20 pleco page per chapter pingxie fic i just finished (like 124k characters! WOW I read and FINISHED that much!), which was taking 30-40 minutes per chapter (mainly because of number of new vocabulary per chapter being a bit higher). If I’d wanted to speed read saye I could have, I’d have missed some small details but I could have tried if I wanted.

Then I did a second pass later in the day with the audiobook just following along with the text. Realized 1. I knew most words in the audiobook and did not follow as well as i thought - but those first listen throughs without having seen the chapter I did manage to figure out the main character just broke up, just travelled somewhere, ran into a girl and somehow the girls brother showed and the two guys interacted a little and someone was being somewhat helpful, then the main guy met his father trying to ‘pick him up.’ Which is a true but very rough summary of what happens in the first chapter. By reading I could confirm the words I thought were names AS names, figured out WHY the girl was interacting with the main guy and that there were actually two girls in chapter 1, and figure out who helped who and who was the girl’s brother. Also somehow before I looked at the chapter text I never caught that the audiobook mentions a motorcycle despite me knowing that word and it SOUNDING like mota-che/motorche! it sounds like the word and i knew it and didn’t hear it! Then later following the audiobook with the text I realized another issue I had, is I’m not used to listening to soft voices with such faint pronunciations of the final sounds. I’m much more used to deeper crisper pronunciations and being able to rely clearly on initials and finals AS much as tones to recognize the words, whereas this particular audiobook i needed to mainly rely on tones and initials to figure out what word was what - that probably threw me off a bit. It’s probably good for me to get practice listening to such a different voice to what I’m used to. I have definitely learned the deeper the voice, the more I have a far easier time figuring out what’s being said. Also standard accent more like beijing but without a huge amount of ‘er’s just some, and taiwan accent are the easiest for me to hear when i’m not pa

For anyone curious, here is the audiobook for SaYe I’m listening to: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2w27tfjeeaySbMK272NpXwUtsBc-e3YN

Also here’s a chinese audiobook youtube I found: https://www.youtube.com/c/%E6%9C%89%E5%A3%B0%E5%B0%8F%E8%AF%B4%E5%90%AC%E4%B9%A6%E4%B8%96%E7%95%8Cyoushengxiaoshuo/playlists

Which includes The King’s Avatar: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTJaWZoVPdT1ZhIQIKxVci7fVEHr-oX6k

And ErHa: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLsxEOGKlBMaFa6CS6Hf5ndy6qTtUL0Au_

Anyway, its a great book right now for reading practice. It’s very much around my level. I will probably stick with this author for a little while and solidify what I know/my base reading level. 

-

IN OTHER NEWS:

I am apparently living proof listening-reading, heavy emphasis on re-listening a TON in the background as you work or type or walk/drive whatever, works for learning new words. 

I re-listened to guardian chapter 1 audiobook at least 20-30 times by now, just a tremendous amount. Chapters 1-10 I’ve listened to at least 5 times by now random chapters at random days, and some probably also 20 times. 

I have listened to these chapters enough, that I can officially follow so much that I know nearly every freaking word I hear, I know it immediately on hearing in at least 3 different audiobooks, and the few ‘less familiar’ words I recognize a second after hearing (like hearing ‘audacious’ or ‘glum’ in english it just takes me a second to re-remember), and the very few still forgotten words/specific details I learn From those words I can actually pick up from the context of listening.

 I hear ‘powei’ and somehow forgot it AGAIN? Oh it means ‘rather’ in this context. ‘anli’ well i always hear ‘anlishuo’ as in ‘people say/generally speaking’ so ‘anli’ in this context must mean ‘generally/generally speaking.’ chuanghu? can’t remember it because i was just typing this JUST now and only hearing a few words from the audiobook in the background - well in context its obviously window, but out of context my brain said window and i just couldn’t remember if it was window or curtain but felt curtain had something more complex than ‘hu’ as the second half - just looked it up and my guess was right, even with no context which i’d have had if i’d been listening better and it had been clear it’s window, it still made me think ‘window’ immediately just hearing the sound. ‘xiang yi ge ren’ sounds like ‘looks like a person’ which is the next phrase i just randomly heard. ‘hua le yao ming’ shouted for their life/in awful terror? or that would be ‘huo’, so maybe ‘streaking toward him to take his life’? would make sense in context of a horror scene - i just looked it up and 划了要命 would be the second one. even IF i heard the wrong line, both of those are pretty close to a good guess in context and hua is the only unknown because without context i can’t place if it was hua or huo. i still confuse the words wu and wo for hold etc, but in context i can tell which one it is (wo is hold a hand, hold a face, etc). 

I’m genuinely at a point where I can just completely follow the plot through at least the first 20 chapters from listening. And for most scenes, follow every detail too including stuff like guo changcheng spending half a year not working at home after he graduated, being so afraid of the phone, da qing being fawning to shen wei when they meet and rubbing against his leg, the specific conversation details when da qing runs across zhao yunlan’s car in chapter 2, what zhao yunlan’s room exactly looks like, etc. Its super cool to be able to follow the audiobook so well I can follow the story and details even when I don’t have time to read! It’s so fun! And it was not very hard!

It took 40 minutes of upfront study where you set time aside to focus: 20 minutes to have a program read the chapter aloud while you either see unknown word definitions pop up (like in Pleco) or look them up with some click dictionary as you listen. 20 minutes to go through and listen to the audiobook as you follow along with the text. Then after that, just play the audiobook chapters you’ve done this with whenever you want, either paying attention like when going to bed soon or walking, or in the background like when cleaning or doing busy work or driving. Since background listening can be done easily whenever all you have to do is remember to click play when you want something to listen to. 

I’m honestly blown away by how much 3 months of studying mainly like this (which is quite fun and only requires me to carve out a small amount of actual study focused time) has improved my listening skills. I can now also listen to the 2ha audiobook okay and follow along (provided its a chapter I’ve read before so I have at least some prior context to help me out) - at least so far as that’s what I’m listening to right now. Basically, I can tell Guardian has both upped my vocabulary significantly and also improved my automatic recognition of many words I half-knew and learned since. 

I recently found a new Guardian audiobook read by a deep voice and its lovely (and utilizes music and echo for effects, its lovely to listen to) I hope the poster keeps updating: https://fm.qq.com/show/rd002ED4aN0mYz2L__

I’ve been listening to it lately.

---

Also! Directions for using Pleco Android for screen reader:

1. To get any page bookmarked online: 

Open a page in your mobile web browser you want to read. Click the menu, click share, click Pleco Reader (or ‘more’ or ‘...’ then Pleco Reader).

Go to Clipboard Reader. Now when you click text, dictate text megaphone will be an option.

*Since Clipboard Reader is free, you can do this to read in Pleco and have things spoken aloud with no money spent. (Though I find the Reader tool worth the money and add ons).

2. To have any text ‘dictated aloud’:

Go to Pleco’s menu, Settings, Audio, click ‘use TTS if no recording,’ then for Sentence Audio section area System TTS Setting click Speech Services by Google (you can also experiment by clicking other options I am just stating what worked for me, it didn’t work at first I had to make that my default TTS in my Accessibility-Talkback Settings menu on my main phone first and restart my phone before all this). 

Then click the area right below to mess with speed and sound of the TTS voice. 

(Note, to test if TTS is working you can go to any dictionary entry sentence, click the speaker next to the sentence and see if it plays audio. If it does not, you will get an error message and directions on what to change in your phone settings. That is what initially happened to me: I had to go to phone Settings, Accessibility, Talkback, TTS Engine, TTS Engine voice and settings. Pleco recommended I choose Speech Services by Google, and uninstall then reinstall the Chinese voice. Then restart the phone. That worked for me. An additional note: I have Talkback setting on ‘on’ and just have it in my toolbar to use if desired but am not actively using it. If you turn Talkback setting ‘off’ in the actual Settings area of Accessibility, I am not sure if it will affect Pleco’s ability to dictate). 

3. How to put it together: 

Now go to Clipboard Reader and read the page from the internet you wanted or text you pasted, or go to Document Reader and open the document you wish to read. 

Click a word as a place to start. Now you should see both the loudspeaker (for pronouncing the single word) and the Megaphone next to it to start dictating all text. (If your phone is weird like me, you may need to press the megaphone a couple times before the audio works).

If you wish to change dictation reading speed, simply hold down the megaphone and select the speed desired. 

Now that I’ve figured this out I really want to take pictures of my print book, make a pdf, and listen to all the changes.

(Now I just have to fix my weird dictionary in Idiom app and I’m all set on the new phone!)

---

All I’ve been doing the past august study wise is just reading pingxie fic and finishing, and listening to audiobooks. It’s been a busy time for me ToT

I do think it proved you can be lazy and still make some improvements though: 

1. Reading in Pleco (or click-dictionary tool of your choice): pick something and read a chapter a day (that’s what I did, obviously the easier this is the less time you’ll need, but aim for around 30 minutes a day and reading material closer to your level if you don’t want to read too long)

2. Listening-Reading Method something above your reading level that you enjoy. Should take 40 minutes a couple times a week to several times a week to hours a week, depending on how intense you want to get with it and how much you’re going to alternate/include the reading portion. I did like 1-2 chapters a week so I was only spending 40 minutes to 1.5 hours a week doing this, or 3 hours one week no time another week. This is definitely something where you can do 6-12 hours one month then coast on it for another month just repeating older material’s audio/re-reading sections (which is what I did with guardian, doing 22 chapters then switching to just listening to audio a lot). 

Once you’ve done a little L-R steps 2 and 3 (in either order, whatever works for you - and doing step 1 if you want more context prior to steps 2 and 3), then just make time during your days to play the audiobook chapters you’ve studied. You don’t need to be focusing every single time (although focusing on actually trying to follow the audio the first time you listen without text to aid you will probably speed up your comprehension a lot by giving you a lot of basic-context to help you comprehend more later). Aim to listen whenever you’ve got down time! Or time where you’d play music or some background youtube video or podcast - walks, exercise, drives, when cleaning, when browsing the web goofing off, when working if you have times when you’d listen to music with lyrics or a podcast in the background without issues, times when you don’t need to focus 100% on listening just putting it on to hear in the background). 

That’s all I’ve done for study since May. It takes me about 30 minutes 5 days a week, plus 1-2 hours listening-reading actively a week. So 2.5 hours plus 2 = 4 hours of active study a week. Sometimes more like 8-10 if I got really into reading something or Listening-reading to several chapters. Then after that (very easy to fit into my life 4-10 hours per week of study) I just play the audiobook whenever I have downtime at work (that’s usually 0.5-4 hours where I just let it play because I forget its on while working on spreadsheets, updates, emails, etc, or play the audiobook while messing around on the internet in my free time at home, sometimes I put on music instead), while walking so 15-30 minutes maybe 3 days a week, while driving far so maybe 20 minutes - 2 hours per week. maybe lets say 2 hours*4 days a week (I don’t remember to listen every day) so 8 hours random listening+1.5 hours walking+1 hour driving per week. That’s 11.5 hours listening in the background or paying attention plus lets say 4 hours of active study a week. So 15.5 ‘study’ hours for chinese per week - an average overall of ~2.21 hours of chinese ‘study’ per day. This isn’t counting when I get into weibo and goof off, get into some chinese show with no english subs and just start watching it (I watched 16 episodes of Humans cdrama in August which is ~10.66 hours for a total of at least (15.5*4 weeks = 62 hours + 10.66 hours -> ~72.66 hours spent ‘with chinese’ in August at minimum. 4 weeks*7 days = 28, so over around 28 days or most of august I did 72.66 total hours/28 days -> or ~2.595 hours of chinese per day as an average. So... my guess that I spend at least 1-2 hours on chinese per day as the average was a decent guess. Looks like I’m usually 2 hours to 2.5 hours daily as an overall average. It’s not that hard to get in that much without a ton of time in the day once you get some listening skills built up ToT Deciding to build up my listening skills has been one of the funnest goals in chinese so far.

Notes on Listening Reading Actively - it also doubles as increasing your exposure to listening to your target language, and the more hours the better even if its passive in the background, just more hours adding up toward your mind getting a better ability to parse the sounds of the language is going to help your overall listening comprehension in general. So even if you don’t pay attention much and can’t follow the whole plot and only catch certain scenes, you will be improving at least comprehension of: hearing words you know, hearing colocations and common phrases and recognizing more automatically which will help with speaking/writing indirectly and reading recognition of those things, overall ability to hear things correctly in different combinations and getting used to the common combinations. 

You will be surprised how much more you can pick up of plot and details the 3rd listen compared to the first, the 5th listen, the 10th listen. It’s wild. Like... I’m listening to the 2ha audiobook and even having never read it in chinese, just knowing basic context, the 2nd read through I caught so much more of the plot throughout just because I had forewarning of when scenes change a lot, what audio plays during some parts I recognized in previous listens, and so I have more focus for figuring out the new details I missed. Whereas the first listen, I didn’t always know WHAT the scene context was until I heard a familiar line or description I remembered from the english version of the scene, but on a second listen I now have a better guess at the scene the lines are probably taking place in before and after those lines I recognized in the first listen. And this continues etc each time you re-listen to something. (So yes, that initial context of knowing what you’re listening to with a previous read of its translation or target language transcript will definitely speed up comprehension pick up - but if you just wanna test what your basic listening comprehension to new content is then it works fine just going into new audio with no prior context its just more difficult at first lol until you build an idea of the context from listening).

The original Listening-Reading Method person did like 40+ hours a week, 8 hours most days, no wonder they made fast progress! They often included reading in some form (hence the name) and later translation, so they also were constantly working on listening AND some reading skills AND eventually often some speaking/writing skills. Doing it my way results in mostly listening comprehension of stuff you could already read to a degree, more automaticity in recognition, and for picking up new vocabulary both in listening and reading. I do extra reading on the side with other stuff to get more reading practice in an isolated way (since I’m trying to push my reading speed up above speaking speed). I always try to do it the way the creator originally intended, but I am not able to focus on things for more than 20 minutes at a time, 40 to a couple hours if I take a break every 20 minutes. So doing it 8 hours just doesn’t work out. 

---

I’m fairly happy!

I am on plan for my main goals that started this style study plan: 

1. Improving my reading level to get to start being able to extensively read actual danmei novels - we got there! I am at a reading level appropriate for SaYe at 98% comprehension when I checked, and at a bit above 95% comprehension for Guardian! I’m now continuing with that goal while adding on increasing reading Speed in general.

2. Improving listening skills so I have better automatic recognition of partly-known words from reading (working super well so far - I can tell because ability to watch cdramas in only chinese has improved noticeably and gotten much easier), and so I can start following the main plot and key details of audiobooks of things I’ve read before (working great for guardian, starting to work with other audiobooks provided I listen to the chapters a few times or several times if its brand new material I have no context for, however reading level matters and while things I have prior familiarity with are going very well - brand new materials are still quite challenging in that they require multiple listens for the full plot and several listens before I start picking up most non-plot-critical details). 

[let-them-read-fics]

Youth With You

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,113

HC Count: 31

This is a mix between headcanons and a one shot

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff, Little Hot & Heavy, (Public) Teasing, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my first writing for Lisa; I’m pretty proud of it! Feel free to let me know what you think. Happy reading, I hope you enjoy!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Becoming a new trainee was terrifying in every sense of the word. The media, the practices, the tests -- everything. 3 months into your coaching, however, things hit an all time high: you gained the opportunity to enter the competition Youth With You, as an independent trainee. Your freedom and right to expression was important to you, so it wasn’t an accident that you were going in independently. A company would only put pressure and bans on you, restricting your creativity and keeping you from being your most authentic self.

Finding out that Lisa was a mentor only made your nerves worse; at the same time, though, you’d never been more excited for something in your whole life.

Having friends in the industry proved to be an important factor as you prepped for the show. Producers and managers gave you advice, knowing exactly what each of the teachers looked for and demanded from their groups. You worked tirelessly to ready yourself for the whirlwind that was sure to come.

When you arrive at the production building, you’re in awe; the interior is ginormous, with insanely high ceilings and huge doors. Everything is coated in various colors, all of them pristine and beautiful. The labyrinth of halls that winds throughout the building before you is quite intimidating, but you take a deep breath and remind yourself of your reasons for being here. It’s far too important to chicken out now.

The staff had tipped you off to the fact that the mentors would be there today, but they neglected to tell you when. You had surely expected them to come in after everyone got settled. Alas, you were sorely mistaken; thus, you can imagine the surprise that etched into your features upon entering the main room.

Ella and Kun were invested in their papers, flipping through the stacks and whispering to each other; Jony J was turned to his right, chatting with Lisa. Your presence was announced by the rather loud thud that echoed through the room at the closing of the door.

The bright lights nearly blinded you as you turned to face them again, dread creeping into your mind.

“Hello everyone, I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The words came out cooler that you had expected, and you patted yourself on the back for remaining so calm. You’re known for managing to hide your nerves well and remain professional, but that’s no easy task with this group of talent. Especially her.

You purposefully tried to avoid looking at her, knowing you’d blush and get majorly sidetracked. You feared you wouldn’t be able to recover from that.

“I see that you’re an independent trainee,” Kun said, a smile spreading across his lips. You swallowed at the sight, knowing the questions were about to come rolling in. “Yes, that’s correct. I prefer working alone; I only have to rely on myself.” He studies you, head tilted to the side as he considers your answer, and you nearly melt under his astute gaze. “I was the same way. It’s never easy, but the mentors and I will be right beside you during your time here.” Knowing that these 4 amazing people were here to share their experiences and guide you through your troubles made the task at hand much less daunting, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Despite the intensity of the competition, you felt at ease, knowing they genuinely want the best for you.

“Ah, look at that face! So cute,” Ella coos, grinning back. You hide your face behind your hands, embarrassed beyond belief. Everyone chuckles at the sight, and you join in. With the atmosphere officially comfortable, you allow your eyes to trail over to Lisa. To your surprise, she’s already looking at you, lip between her teeth. 

“I see that you have 2 special talents listed.” Lisa starts, leaving room for you to elaborate. “Yes ma’am. While studying abroad in my youth, I learned 3 languages in addition to my native English.” The mentors look pleasantly surprised, and you continue with your other skill. “My mother is a professional chef, and we’ve always been close. She’s trained me over the years, and that’s something I’m very thankful for. During my time away from home I was fortunate enough to learn new techniques and styles from across the world.”

As you finish talking about yourself, you look to each and every one of the judges separately. You know it’s important to have a good connection with all of them, and you use this chance to do just that.

Upon locking eyes with Lisa again, your breath hitches. The light blush that rests on her cheeks, combined with the look she’s giving you, is enough to make you swoon. It’s innocent enough, the way she’s watching you; after all, she can just blame it on her role as a teacher -- she has to get a good understanding of her students. However, though, behind the innocent facade lies a much more sensual reason for her behavior. You don’t miss the way her eyes rake up your body, nor her smirk as she notices your hands mindlessly toying with the band of your shorts. You do your best to keep your attention on the others as they ask you questions about your resume, but that’s easier said than done.

Once they’ve finished with their questions, they invite you to take a seat anywhere you’d like. Despite your desire to book it next to Lisa, you don’t want to be impolite; that’s also not to say that you didn’t enjoy the company of the others -- you truly did. Clearly, though, no one can compare to Lisa.

You give them all another smile, the dimples of your cheeks on full display, and approach them one-by-one to shake their hands. They appreciate the gesture, and you’re confident that you’ve won them over that much more.

As you make your way to the seat beside Lisa, your heart beats wildly. It’s difficult, but you manage to suppress your anxiety for the time being. Letting your control slip now is definitely not an option.

In contrast to the heated look she had been giving you just moments before, Lisa now dons an adorable smile that nearly makes your heart burst. In the moment, you almost reach forward to touch her puffed out cheeks. 

You sit down beside her, and she takes a minute to look you over again. It’s baffling how she can go from so wholesome and adorable to flirty in such a short period of time. 

As the time ticks on and the mentors work through the list of contestants, the two of you continue to steal conversations and teasing glances.

Things are ramped up, however, when Lisa’s hand finds its way to your thigh, settling there for a bit. You attempt to push the intrusive thoughts from your mind, but they come flooding back the second she leans in to whisper something into your ear.

“You look gorgeous,” she tells you, warm breath fanning over your neck. Her slight accent only adds to the effect that her words have on you. All you can offer is a breathless thank you, thoughts completely jumbled at having the stunning woman do such things to you.

Before anyone can get suspicious, she backs off. The disappointment must’ve been evident, because she chuckles lightly and pats your knee in response. Thankfully no one had been paying you two any mind.

~~~ Practices ~~~

It wasn’t often that you came into the studio upset or exhausted, considering you knew you’d soon be cheered up once you saw Lisa, but she made sure to take care of you when those times came around. She could read you like a book, easily knowing when you’d had enough and needed a break. That’s not to say that she lowered her standards, though -- she was firm and demanding, but she checked on you often. She respected all of her students, but she couldn’t deny that she had a soft spot for you. You lived for her soft gaze and gentle touches on the days you needed them most.

Other days, though, you got a kick out of teasing her; playing dumb, purposefully missing steps, ignoring her instructions -- anything to pull a reaction from her. 

          ↪“Eyes forward,” she would call out, voice strong, upon catching you talking to a fellow trainee when you were meant to be practicing. Her jaw would be set, eyes menacing.

          ↪“You keep messing up. Here,” she’d declare, demonstrating the moves directly in front of you. She knew exactly what to do to get you going, and sometimes your plans backfired a bit.

          ↪Those times that you’d play dumb were by far the best, both of you secretly loving the back and forth of it all. “I’m sorry, miss. I just can’t seem to get the moves right.” You’d say, appearing innocent and sweet all the while. It was hard to contain yourself when she’d approach you from behind, pressing her body against your own. “One here,” she’d inform, placing your hand on your hip; “...and one here,” she’d finish, correcting your position once again. When the music restarted, she counted next to your ear, keeping time as her warm hands held yours, guiding you through the positions.  

And of course, the majority of the time, you were a great student for her. Her praise had a mighty effect on you, and there existed a mutual love for it. Being a strong dancer often worked in your favor.

~~~ Performances ~~~

Anytime you were set to perform, Lisa made sure to settle in and get ready to enjoy herself. The two of you had spent many weeks getting to know each other better, growing closer in the process. She found you captivating, and always loved to watch you on stage. The same can be said for you; seeing her dance was always the highlight of your day.

The two of you made sure to play things up, having a knack for getting the other riled up and squirming in their seat.

Watching her cool demeanor falter and ultimately crumble before you was one of your favorite things in the whole world. One of its only rivals was how she had to attempt to conceal it, knowing the cameras would be on her often. 

“I-I loved it. I’m very proud of you, Y/N.”

You smirked at her stutter; no one else was capable of making her blush as much as you did

~~~ Bonus: Backstage ~~~

“You all did so well. I loved that dance break in the middle of the song.” You gushed to a group of your fellow contestants, smiling at how happy they were. Over the course of the competition you had become something of a “celebrity” yourself, noticing that the other girls would always approach you for help and get giddy when you agreed. Not to mention that the mentors were always proud of your progress and dedication to the craft. The conversation continued, and you settled into a comfortable rhythm; everyone taking a turn to share their favorite part of their performance. Seeing these girls -- your friends -- so proud of themselves was a wonderful thing. Everyone worked so hard, day in and day out, to put forth their best effort in everything that they did. Celebrating each other’s wins just felt right, despite the fact that this is a competition. It always hurt to see anyone go home, considering you spent so much time getting to know each other. These were the people who were there for you when you needed it most; all of you know how hopeless it can feel, and you wanted to protect the others from that in every way possible. 

“Y/N!” The sound of someone calling your name pulls you from the conversation, and you send a quick bow and goodbye to the girls before departing. 

Your eyes travel across the crowded stage, searching for the source of the noise. You spot Lisa looking at you, hand beckoning you towards her. A familiar warmth spreads across your body at the action, and you don’t even attempt to stop the smile that takes over your features.

“Yes?” You ask sweetly, approaching her. Her hands slip into yours, fingers lacing in a sweet embrace. “I want you to come to my dressing room once everyone goes back to the dorm. You impressed me tonight, but you still have some things to learn.” As that last sentence falls from her lips, your blood runs cold. Her voice had dropped lower, and you feared what she meant by that. Had you mixed up the choreography without realizing it? Surely not. The only thing you were sure of in that moment was the way she was studying you, almost intimidatingly. Her jaw was set, eyes narrowed, and you swallowed thickly upon noticing this. “Of course. I appreciate the feedback.” She smiled, seemingly pleased with your answer.

With a swipe of her thumb across your knuckles, she was gone.

A sigh left your lips, your mind racing at all of the possible things to come.

~~~ Bonus: A Private Meeting ~~~

“You wanted to see me, Lisa?” You announce upon entering the room and shutting the door behind yourself. The two of you had long ago left the formalities behind, opting instead to be on a first name basis. It was much more intimate, and you preferred things to be that way with her. Of course, occasionally you would use her official title just to get a certain reaction out of her. Slipping it into conversation when around the other instructors always worked to get her attention and catch her off guard. It was easy to see that she enjoyed it, the innocent way it rolled off your tongue. 

You sit down in the chair opposite her, feeling the coolness of the leather press against your calves as you get situated.

“Good job tonight; you get better and better with every performance.” You thank her, both well aware of how much you enjoy her praise. Her expression turns more serious, and you take a deep breath. Here goes. “I don’t think it’s wise for you to be so close with some of the other contestants, though. Not all of them are interested in gaining your friendship for the right reasons.” With furrowed eyebrows and slightly pursed lips, you look at her. “What exactly do you mean?” Her expression turns unreadable, and you sink into your seat a little more. “Some of them may want to get into your head to throw you off your game. Despite what you want to believe, Y/N, this is still a contest.” You sigh, now a bit upset that she’s treating you like a child. “I’m aware of that, Lisa, but I can take care care of myself.” At the change in tone, the air around you shifts into something more tense. “Are you sure? Because you seem to be pretty oblivious to their actions.” She bites back, shifting her seat to get a better look at you, and crosses her arms.

When you don’t respond, she takes this as her cue to continue. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I see the way they look at you, so entranced. They know that acting helpless will get your attention. It’s just to distract you!” She says, exasperated, jaw set and eyes cut, just like earlier.

“Are you jealous?” You ask, a contrasting tone of accusal and uncertainty in your voice. No turning back now.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Jealous? Of what?” Her eyes setting on you again, a cocky expression on her face.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you start, toying with her; you know exactly what to say. “Maybe at the fact that they get to be so close to me all the time, like you want to be. Or maybe that we sleep together, especially when it gets cold in the dorms.”

It’s her turn to be speechless. “I’m more observant that you act, miss.” She gulps, and you bite back a smirk. “I see how you look at me; your desire is obvious. We’ve both known it for a long time now… Why don’t you just admit it?” The teasing tone in your voice is thick, and it’s clearly getting to her. Who knew you could make her feel like this with just your words?

“Y/N…” Lisa says your name almost as a warning, knowing that you’re on the edge of crossing the line. She failed to deny your claims; after all, it would do no good. She can’t disguise her feelings for you.

A surge of confidence washes over you, and you take that as a sign to scoot closer to her. Soon, you’re mere inches away from her, your body pressed against the side of the seat as you rest your chin in the palm of your hand. Her tongue darts out of her mouth, soothing her lips.

You take her in for a moment, enjoying the sight. Her long dark hair tumbles past her shoulders in loose waves, and a blush takes residence upon her cheeks. Having her like this was something you only dreamed of in the past; seeing her so aroused because of you truly made you think back on how far the two of you have come.

To put an end to the silence, you loop two fingers underneath her chin, successfully coaxing her into meeting your gaze. Your eyes fall to her lips as you ask, “Am I wrong?” Before you can continue, her resolve fades. She leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. Any ounce of doubt that you had before melts away as she pulls you closer.

With inhibition and processing skills long gone, you slip from your chair and into hers, settling in her lap. One of her arms wraps around your waist to hold you steady, while her other hand tangles itself into your hair. A swift bite to your lip, paired with a flex of her warm thigh beneath you, sends a jolt through your body and earns her a low groan. She shudders against you, and that simple act works wonders in boosting your confidence.

All too quickly, a sudden noise from just outside the door startles you; reluctantly, Lisa pulls away. You nearly gasp at how dark her eyes have gotten in the heat of the moment. “I’m going to go see what that was,” she informs, gently setting you down in her seat as she stands up. Before turning to walk away, however, she plants another kiss on your lips. “Don’t even think about moving. I’m not done with you yet.”

[pl-panda]

The vines that bind us - Chapter 7

Chapter 1 || Previous || Next

-----------

After double-checking with security, it turned out that Tim Drake did not show to work. She sighed. Looks like more work for her… Just like Nathalie said.

She started by greeting the two plants in Mr. Drake’s office. Both were incredibly satisfied with themselves that they earned bigger pots. They were also even happier to see her. Next, she took care of her new plants. The two on her desk she quickly took a liking to. They were cute. Only the large plant that now stood in the corner next to the vent was snarky and dared to make an inappropriate comment about one of the office plants. The hole in that leaf was caused by a bullet thank you very much. Mari quickly and clearly explained where it made mistakes. 

With that done, she got to the paperwork that was left on her desk. There were many things to be done before the lunch break.

----------

Chloe was giddy the whole day. She got a green light to deal with the Liar in any way she wished. So many plans. So many possible revenge options. So many lawsuits to be filled. But as she was walking to the cafeteria, a new, even more devious, plan formed in her head. She would need the help of a certain stuck-up brat, but if she got him to help, it would not only destroy Lila but utterly ruin her. She already had several ideas from her other schemes that could be adjusted. Oh, this would be glorious if only she found… there!

Damian Wayne was not having a good day. He was in fact having a really, really bad day. His father had forbidden him from bringing another sword to work until his previous one is returned. Given how efficient the GCPD is, he would be lucky to get it before thirty. He was the only one of his brothers to arrive at WE before lunch, which led to more irritation. He definitely hated the corporate gossip about one Marinette Dupain-Cheng. How she was awesome, how she was a 'bamf' (whatever that meant), or how much they adored her kind-but-still-no-nonsense attitude. She took his sword!

“Wayne.” An irritating voice came from behind. Damian was of course aware that someone was behind him but dismissed it as an employee doing something unrelated to him. 

“Bourgeoise. What the heck do you want from me?” He spat

“To show you something.” She pulled her phone from the pocket of her jacket. He quietly admired how she found female clothing with pockets that deep. At the same time, he kept frowning at her.

“I swear, if it’s…” He didn’t finish, because she pressed ‘play’ and the video started. The whole thing laster about seven minutes. With each passing moment, his frown deepened and by the end, Chloe wondered how can he see anything when his eyes narrowed to two tiny slits. 

“I. want. her. dead.” He seethed through the clenched teeth.

“Good. But we can’t kill her. Mari forbid it and I know your father isn’t exactly fond of killing.”

“Tt. What. do. you. want?” He pronounced each word clearly.

“Simple. Destroy her with her own words.” She pointed to the group where she was clutching to Adrien’s arm for her dear life. “Mari-bear is too moral to play with her lies like that. Us? We play to win.”

“Fine. But I want my sword back.”

“Clever boy. I knew you could break into an evidence room.” Chloe smiled. “They returned it cleaned of blood the same afternoon. Guess you were too late.” 

“Tt.”

“Fine. I will get your precious sword. But if you try to mess with Mari…”

“I got enough of it from my father.” He scowled.

“Good. Now, onto the plan.”

---------

Mari didn’t come to eat lunch with Chloe. She was perfectly aware that the girl would start one of their plans and wanted to have an alibi. Instead, she dived into the paperwork that had to be done as soon as possible. It was going on good and if she dealt with it before the day’s ended, she would have time to try searching for her mother in the evening. She even inquired with the City Hall about the ownership of their old apartment and the answer should be coming any moment now. 

She was broken out of her concentration by a scream of rage and frustration.

--------

A few moments earlier

Damian stalked toward the group of teens that were relaxing from their intern duties. He could clearly see the Liar clutching to Agreste boy like a leech. Perfect for their plan. 

The boy had to agree that what Blonde concocted was both deviously brilliant and brilliantly devious. A perfect opening play. He made sure that he looked flawless before suddenly ‘appearing’ behind Lila and Adrien. 

“How could you?” He asked in an emotionless voice. His face was showing only traces of sadness. Just like he would look if it was for real.

“Who are you?” She asked dismissively.

“Really Lila?” He asked, allowing a small amount of water to appear in his eyes. It was not like him to cry at all, but his mother taught him all useful ways of emotional manipulations and tears were all the way on top of that list. “After all these years, our relationship meant so little to you? I specifically got this trip so we could reunite and you are just… hanging off of some french model?” 

“Listen here you…” She was interrupted when Chloe stormed, her heels clicking loudly around the cafeteria. Conveniently, everyone removed themselves when they saw Damian stalking toward intern-bitch. Speaking to police two days in a row is not a pleasant experience.

“Wayne. What’s the mess here.”

“Tt. You were right. She is a harlot.”

“Wayne?” Alya asked with wide eyes.

“Yes. You have the questionable experience of meeting a pissed Damian Wayne. My poor cake…” She moaned.

“Would you let that go, woman!?” He asked. This time he had no need to play his emotions. Bourgeoise never forgave him and Drake that Cake incident and it grated on his nerves. He paid her back.

“It was my birthday!” She raised her hands up. “And you are all idiots. Lila kept telling you how great her relationship with Damian was. And yet she is hanging off of Adrien, sinking her claws into his arm. I think the English expression was… I swear I read a book about it. Something with red A…” She pressed a finger to her lips, acting like she was trying to remember. “Ah! Scarlet Woman.” She grinned. “That’s what you are, Lie-la. A scarlet woman using men to get what you want.” That was vicious even for Chloe. Adrien took the opportunity to push the fuming girl away and get back. He could admire the chaos that was about to happen very soon. 

To their surprise, Lila calmed herself and giggled. 

“ah! Silly Dami-boo! I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I thought we were always just friends. It must’ve been one big misunderstanding” 

The people around started to nod their heads, accepting what she said as plausible. Damian Wayne wouldn’t be the first to get the wrong idea. At least until their phones buzzed. Chloe was smirking.

“Misunderstanding? This declarations of love say something different though. I seem to remember there was even some talk about a ring.”

Lila checked her phone and her eyes went wide. There were messages that looked like from her. That witch even replicated her speech pattern. It was much better forgery than what she did with Maribrat.

“Lila?” Nino stared at her in disbelief.

“I’m disappointed. After all this time together.” Damian shook his head. He pulled a small bracelet off and tossed it at her. “Consider this a break-up.”

Chloe smiled. “So you are free now.” She asked him. Damian saw the predatory grin and felt a sudden need to run. But he knew that the witch was not yet destroyed. 

“Yes…” 

“What say I concede that the cake incident was entirely Drake’s fault. If you take me for a coffee after work?”

Damian gave a distraught Lila a look of hatred. Then, he turned back to Chloe. 

“I would like that. Does 4:30 pm works for you?”

“I should be free by then.” She smiled. “It’s a date.”

With that, she left with Damian toward the elevator. Lila had enough of it and stormed to the bathroom. Soon after that, a shriek of frustration filled the building. Since it sounded like the bratty intern, nobody cared enough. The class was not allowed to leave their posts, not that too many of them wanted to be near Lila at the moment. They had many things to think about.

Damian and Chloe sat in the Law department, both having a satisfied grin. It was totally worth it.

“Just to be clear. I still hate you.” He said to her. 

“Same here.”

“To the Liar’s fall.” They raised a cookie each and bit in. Most people that saw them had to check again because the Ice Prince was actually hanging around someone his age. 

--------

Mari managed to record the shriek and now used it as Lila’s ringtone. It was a nice mid-day surprise that brightened her day. It lasted all beautiful hour until Marleen White, the head of PR, started knocking on the elevator, demanding to see her. Given her state and that she didn’t even call, it was something urgent. Mari quickly let her in.

“We have a huge problem.” She tossed a folder full of pictures on her desk. There were prints of chat screens with various dates. The content was most troubling. 

“I assume someone leaked it to the press?” She shrugged. 

“How can you be calm? It’s a disaster!” 

“They are fake.” Mari shrugged again.

“Fake?”

“A. That’s not Lila’s number on any of her four mobile phones. B. I have no idea who made it, but they have no idea how Damian Wayne acts. It’s straight up the same bullshit she will be facing a lawsuit for once the Law Department gets through the tons of paperwork. And C. This is an American number. Lila had no way of getting it three years ago. Plus the timing is too perfect. She gets punishment from the company and then the scandal with her dating youngest Wayne gets out. Whoever made it settled on fast, not precise.” Mari circled things on the prints.

“So it’s all fake?”

“I suspect she wanted revenge on the company for the extra work I had her be assigned.” Mari grinned at the memory of the shriek. “Or, someone’s doing it in her name.” For a moment her thoughts wandered to Chloe. She would have to speak to her soon.

“We will deny it and post all of the details you highlighted. The tabloids might still latch on it.”

“To be honest, I think it will be better than being dragged through the mud for the deaths. Especially since there was no story attached. Personally, I can’t care less about celebrity romance.” She dismissed the concern. It pained her a bit to speak about the dead in such a dismissive manner, but through the day she slowly absorbed that it was not her fault. She couldn’t blame herself. That’s what Marinette would do. Marinette was left in Paris by the irritating classmates and had her luggage (full of Adrien’s cheese-stinking socks) sent to India or somewhere. 

“That’s… quite a good idea. I assume you will want this forwarded to the Law department to add to the lawsuit.” 

“No point. It’s fake and we have no proof who leaked it. I’m plenty certain we have nothing or that person would already be sitting in HR.”

“The IT is looking into it, but they have little hopes. It went through an external server that we can’t get access to legally. Whoever leaked it was smart enough to avoid easy detection.”

“Good. By the way, what about that statement?”

“I sent it to your email.”

“I see it. I will read it and send you eventual suggestions.” 

“Sure. It’s nice to have someone competent in place.”

“I thought Mr. Drake was quite a good CEO. He got this company from the hole back to the top?” She tried to remember what she knew about Wayne Enterprises and Wayne Tech

“Yeah, but he is… eccentric. And can disappear at weird times for hours only to then work through three days without sleep”

“Oh. And Sarah was unhelpful?” Mari winced, remembering her own runs when the deadlines approached and she realized she spent the whole week constantly fighting Akumas. 

“She was good with people, but…” 

“I get it.” Mari smiled. “Luckily, I have experience with babysitting.”

Both women cackled at that.

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

Once Marleen was gone, Mari quickly called Chloe’s phone. The girl picked up almost immediately. She was speaking to someone. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting your work?”

“Don’t worry Mari-bear. I was just speaking with my newest side-kick.”

“Tt. I’m not a sidekick!” A voice came from next to her. Mari tried to resist the urge to facepalm. Chloe tilted the phone to show a pouting Damian Wayne. 

“Shut up Sidekick. I’m the mastermind behind our plans.”

“And I pay for them with my image and sanity.” He replied. 

“Hush you! I will let you know that some people would kill for the opportunity.” 

“Tt. Right now I want to kill someone.” 

“Har har. So funny, are you?”

“As much as I enjoy watching you two flirt… Get a room.” Marigold joked, watching both of them blush red. Before either had a chance to attack her for implying anything, she continued. “Chloe. Did you per any chance fabricated and published texts between Damian and the Liar?”

“Wait! That bitch actually published it?”

Mari facepalmed. She could feel the headache coming. In the hindsight, maybe it would’ve been better to just fire Lila’s sorry ass, together with the rest of the bunch. She could easily have Adrien and Chloe hired on some less permanent deal. They could both do without school for a while.

“Tt. Now I will really need my blade. Please tell me that nobody believed it?” Damian asked, frowning. 

“You’re in luck. Madame White caught the wind of it quick enough. She will be making a swift statement that this is an attack on your person and the image of Waynes as a whole. Plus publishing a detailed analysis of why it couldn’t have been you.” Bluenette reassured him that his precious reputation would not take any great hits. Or not too great of a hit at least.

“Good. Jon wouldn’t let me live it down.” He sighed in relief.

“Now, Chlo. You know I love and support your deviousness, but please try and limit the civilian casualties of your future plans.”

“Fine. I can’t promise Lila’s retaliation to follow the same rules.” She huffed.

“Good. You’ve got any plans for the afternoon?”

“She is already otherwise occupied.” Damian quickly interceeded. He might not like the blonde much, but his honor demanded that if he actually invited her for a date, he did his best.

“I will leave you to your scheming then. Or whatever else you are doing” Mari quickly hanged up on the couple before they could scream at her. She saw a bit of blush enter both of their faces so she counted it as a win. 

---------

The rest of the day passed relatively quickly. Tim Drake did not show for work, so she had to handle the paperwork herself. She never imagined how much work went into organizing one press conference. Sarah did absolutely nothing about it before she quit. Her biggest problem was that she needed to have it happen outside of WE since several journalists expressed their concerns about security. Now she was being hard-pressed to find a separate convention center. Except that things were expensive and Finances were definitely not being helpful. She posted the task to one of their employees. He would send her the offers before the day was up, but there was a slight delay and she would have to wait until four. Mari decided that she can wait and have it done that day. 

She informed Chloe and their teacher that she had to stay in the office after hours and get it done so they wouldn’t worry. Then, she dived into making what felt like dozens of phone calls. Out of four serious offers, three would actually pass the standards set by Mr. Drake in the email he oh so graciously sent her in response to a question about the situation. It was six when she actually got done with the negotiations, but the satisfaction was immense. The final price was ten percent lower than what she initially aimed for, so she had more funds for other things. The guest list was also reviewed in the meantime and already sent back, so that was one more thing crossed out of the list. 

After being done, she bid farewell to the receptionist near the entrance and went to the Taxi she called before leaving. It was already waiting, which was a nice boon for the end of the day. Her next stop was not the hotel though. She gave the address in the seedier part of town. Her old address to be precise.

----------

“Are you sure Ma’am?” The taxi driver asked unconvinced. “I mean it’s not the safest part of town.”

“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. Besides, my mother used to live here.” She gave him a bright smile. 

“If you say so…” He shrugged and stopped before a rundown building. Moss and ivy had already overgrown this place a long time ago, but the plants seemed… unhealthy. Like they were left to fend on their own for too long. It was not a good sign.

Hesitating for a moment, Mari entered the building. She was hesitant, even though technically her mother was the owner. The ground floor was empty if one ignored several dozen wild plants in various states of growth. Some were dried and dead, while some others were lush and domineering. It used to be well-kept and ordered inside the garden that she and her mother tended to. She would fix that after she found her mother. 

The second floor was not much better. The dust everywhere was indication enough that Pamela Isley moved out long ago. Probably even years. Mari walked around, reminiscing about her childhood. It was not what one would call ordinary, but she would never settle for it anyway. She loved learning about plants with her mother. The martial arts lessons with uncle Wilson when he had time. Science with uncle Victor or her mother. Even the math with uncle Floyd. And Allegra and Claude were there to keep her company. 

Slowly, she trailed to her mother’s room. She hoped to find something useful there. She definitely did not expect to have to block a giant mallet with blue and red stripes. Ducking under it, she delivered a quick kick before running to the stairs. Mari dashed downstairs and burst onto the street. The Taxi driver actually waited for her. He was a godsend at this moment. She quickly jumped inside and ordered him to go.

“So? Unwelcome guests?” he asked a bit more cheeky than she would’ve liked. 

“Yes. But apparently my mom didn’t live there is some time.” Mari answered in a bitter tone. 

“Shame. Hope you have better luck, next time lass.” They rode in silence for a moment. “Name’s Chas by the way. Chas Chandler.”

“Marinette.” She smiled at the man. “Thank you for waiting. I would’ve probably been in a worse situation if not for you.” Mari did not add that the worse situation was ordering the wild plants to defend her. She worked with the wild plants maybe twice before and they didn’t listen that well to orders. 

“Where to now?”

Mari gave him the name of the hotel. When they arrived, she paid him and gave him a rather generous tip for the work. It was already dark, but apparently Chloe was not yet here. The class was supposed to be visiting some local museum or whatever. It’s not like she cared. 

When Marigold entered her room, there was a large book sitting on her bed. Tikki immediately zoomed out of her pocket and toward it. she hovered over for a moment before she huffed. 

“Of course he would do that. He is an idiot though. I would be a much better teacher.”

“Who are you talking about?” Mari asked the small goddess.

“No one!” Kwami said quickly and in a bit higher tone. The bluenette could’ve sworn she saw Tikki get even redder than before. 

“Okay… And what’s that? Nothing dangerous I hope?”

“It’s… it’s a spellbook.” Tikki said after hesitating a bit.

“Like magic?”

“Yeah.”

“Who would leave me a spellbook without as much as a note?” Mari asked. She could see Tikki was conflicted.

“I can’t say.” She finally let go of air. “I made a promise that I would keep the secret.”

“Fine. You’re sure it’s safe?”

“Yeah, but Magic is dangerous. You should only do it with some supervision.” Tikki warned her.

“Good thing I have you then.” Marigold grinned. 

“Mari! You know I can’t exactly just…” Tikki paused. “You know what, it’s actually not a bad idea. I can teach you some simple stuff for the starters.” 

“Huh? I actually expected you to be against it.”

“I trust you to act responsibly. And as a Guardian, you probably should start learning magic anyway.”

“Let’s get started then. Please tell me I can curse Lie-la!”

-------

NEXT

[innocent-chris-evans-slut]

The Assistant - Part Three

My Masterlist ✨

Series: The Assistant - Part Three

Part One - Part Two

Summary: Y/N is Ransom Dysdale’s assistant. She’s the closest person to him and spends everyday with him at his house. Usually she gets in at nine o’clock and makes sure everything is perfect. One day he doesn’t want to get up and Y/N goes in his room. She finds a surprise.

Word Count: 2,7k 

Type: smut, kind of fluffy 

Warning(s): dirty talking, blowjob that turns in pure face-fucking

It was almost seven in the morning when your alarm went off. You reached for it on your side table, but you didn’t find it, then you realized it wasn’t your bedside table and, definitely, it wasn’t your bedroom.

In front of you stayed a chair and, on top of it, dozens of male sweaters and pants. Still, your eyes locked on the silver vibrator on the desk, wrapped in a white towel. You closed your eyes, hoping it was a nightmare, yet, when you opened them again, laying next to you there was Ransom.

You rested on your left side, facing now the built man, who didn’t look so authoritarian with his eyes softly closed together and lips partially opened.

You stared at his lips. You would have been lying if you’d said he wasn’t really good-looking.

Ransom Drysdale was an awesome man and, again, his being a complete asshole attracted you.

You shook your head, and once you had regained consciousness, you managed to get up and, wrapping a long towel around your naked body, you made your way into his bathroom.

A couple of minutes later you got out and pleasantly noticed Ransom was still asleep and he had now burned his face into the pillow, so you were sure he was sleeping.

You just wanted to get the hell out of there before Sam could run into you while arriving at work, then you remembered: Sam wouldn’t have been there that morning, Fran would instead, and only God knew how much you hated that woman.

Every time she worked at Ransom’s, she made clear the disgust she felt for you -you didn’t even know why she was so bothered by you working for Harlan’s grandchild. You were used to bitter words and the cold glares she would address you as you entered the kitchen, or the room she was cleaning. Fran was sent by Harlan to clean Ransom’s house, but you were sure someone else wanted her to check on you, too.

That was the reason why every time she was around, you always addressed to Ransom as Mr. Drysdale, you would keep your eyes down on the floor and try not to argue with him.

You knew that Linda Thrombey wanted you out of that house as you were too bossy for his child -she would say.

If only she knew what Ransom did to you last night and how a mess the sheets on which you two slept were.

You stopped quickly at your place; a flat not far away from your boss’ house, just between the chaotic Boston-city life and the quiet countryside life. It was very different from Belmont, but you had liked it since the first day.

You tossed your beige dress on the floor and ran to your closet, taking out the first bunch of clothes you found; you were running out of time so you put on a peachy lace top and slid in a pair of white long and wide trousers. As usual, you wore high heels peachy décolleté. You looked at yourself in the mirror, liking the arranged outfit, and smiled at yourself.

A few minutes after, you were again in your car -after buying Ransom’s favorite breakfast- and you pulled in his walkway. There was another car, blue and old, and you knew it was Fran’s.

You opened the door and entered the house. You reached up for the kitchen and pulled everything out of the paper bag you were holding; some seconds later you heard his heavy footsteps coming closer and his scent spreading out in the room. You smiled and let the dish slide onto the counter.

“Good morning, Mr. Drysdale”, you took a seat in front of him and played with your phone as he ate his breakfast.

That silence wasn’t uncomfortable, embarrassing, it was just natural. It was filled by your thoughts and every now and then one of you would check on the other.

Things got heated once Fran had entered the kitchen, glancing between the two of you and placing the red pail on the floor, next to you, “Hugh, your bedroom and your office are clean”.

Ransom smirked, “Have you change the sheets? You know”, he took a sip from his tall glass, “Yesterday’s girl had such a night” he was shamelessly looking at you while talking and the fact that you didn’t flinch just a little made him continue, “Unfortunately for her, she was so tired that she hadn’t the chance to take my fat-“

“Mr. Drysdale! I don’t think you should talk like this, rather I’ll have to communicate it to Mrs. Thrombey.”

“Do you think I care? This is my fucking house and you are fucking working for me right now. If I want to bend a girl over this counter, or if I want a girl to suck my cock right here, I would do it,” he raised his voice as he got up, let the fork fall into the dish loudly, “Now, do your job and don’t be a pain in my butt”; having said that, he left the room and went to his office, shutting the door behind him with a loud noise.

“Rude”, she commented, getting out of the room and starting to clean the couches in the living room.

Your laugh had started with a smile, then turned into a deep guffaw as you saw her opening a drawer full of condoms. You didn’t stop either when she looked up at you with a disgusted face and closed the wood-made drawer. Being satisfied with yourself, you got up and made your way to the office, where Ransom was working. Silently you sneaked in and sat down behind your desk, facing the brown-haired man writing on a paper.

Even though his day-light activity was leading the little family corporation, you discovered a new side of Ransom when you accidentally found a manuscript in the first drawer of his desk.

6 months before 

Ransom would have killed you if you didn’t make it in time for his 12 o’clock meeting.

How can someone forget at home his notes at home the day they need them? Only Ransom Drysdale could have done something like that.

You ran up to his office and unlocked the door. He’d told you to search in the drawers of his desk and you did so, opening each one of them and pulling out that was in-there. You looked everywhere, yet you couldn’t find them. Though Ransom had told you, more than once, not to open the first drawer on the right, you did it and finally found what you were looking for.

Also, something else.

As you lifted the few pages of notes, together you grabbed involuntary another piece of paper that had nothing to do with Ransom’s meeting.

                                                The Social Climb  

                                   a book by Hugh Ransom Drysdale

You stood there in total shock.

Was Ransom, your Ransom, writing a book? And most importantly, was Ransom writing a book about himself?

You chuckled as you read the list of names to which attribute the book. He clearly didn’t want to reveal himself -and you didn’t know why. According to you, he had never been a man committed to numbers and rules, you would better see him as a freelancer -having his own rules, his own hours, and never having to report to anyone else other than himself.

You quickly glanced at the clock on the wall and flinched when noticing it was a quarter to twelve and you still were at his house. It took almost half an hour to get to the company and you couldn’t make it in time.

That would have been your last day working for Ransom Drysdale.

You giggled thinking about that day and looked over your boss, whose attention was now fully on you, and your lips opened up in a huge smile.

“What’s so funny?” he raised an eyebrow confused by your attitude and placed down the pen he was holding. As no answer came from you, he got up and approached your desk, “Again, is there anything you’d like to share with your boss?”

“N-nothing, just a memory”, you omitted talking about the book you had found in his desk a long time before. You saw him getting around the wooden-made table and laying against it, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

You saw his pecs contracting under the thin material of the sweater he was wearing and slowly releasing the tension when he let his arms fall to his sides; then he gripped the border of your desk. His knuckles becoming white.

Ransom sighed, “The things I’d like that pretty mouth of yours do to me”, he came closer. His lips a few inches from yours, his piercing blue eyes firmly in yours. He raised his thumb and gently rubbed it against your lower lip, “I bet they would be soft and so warm wrapped around my big cock. God, probably you couldn’t even take it all in your mouth”.

His eyes hypnotized you, they were shining with lust and desire. Ransom desired you.

He stopped caressing your lips, though his fingers never left your face. He brought his thumb where your lips were parted and inserted it between them; you welcomed them in your mouth and sucked on them. Ransom wide-opened his eyes, then smirked, “You’re such a whore. Eager for your boss’ cock”.

You shouldn’t have been, but those words, and the tone of his voice, really turned you on and you felt the wetness on your dripping on your panties. You desperately attempted to ease the ache between your legs by tightening together your thighs. Though you couldn’t do it since Ransom kept his thick and strong leg between your knees.

“Nope”, as usual, he popped the ‘p’ and with a firm movement, he spread your legs as wide as he could, they hitting the armrests of the chair, “Such a good assistant for me, aren’t you?” he pushed his thumb deeper in your mouth -it was almost touching the back of your tongue, sending shivers to your spine. “Have you locked the door?” “Y-yes”, you managed to say with his finger still in your mouth. He twisted his thumb around your tongue and your moans filled the room, going straight to his cock -already semi-hard in his pants. You saw the fabric of his trousers stretching around his crotch and his free hand been brought there, gently caressing that point. Ransom’s finger left your mouth and left a wet trace up to the straps of the crop top you were wearing.

“How many times you came last night?”

“Five”, you replied almost immediately, hoping he would give you the amount of pleasure he had given you the night before, “Five times, Sir”.

That word, which easily slipped away from your lips, made its magic. Ransom brought your hands up his thighs and motioned you to keep going, while he leaned against your desk.

Though you weren’t sure he had left you the control over the situation, you let your hands climb back his toned chest, only to let them fall again and eventually rest them on his crotch. It was so hard, and you were ready to say that its tip was already reddish and pre-cum pouring out. You came closer and Ransom groaned as you wide-opened your legs, leaving his fingers space in which wander. Ransom’s buckle felt cold against your fingertips as you unbuckled it and unzipped his pants enough for his cock to break free.

Of course, you had heard stories about him and his talent in bed, but you would have never thought he was that big. How would you be capable of taking him in your mouth? There was no way you could do it -especially not sitting on a chair, at his mercy.

“Hu-“

Ransom stopped you by cupping your face and lowering at your height, “I made you come five times yesterday. It is time you recompense me”, he let you go, and you gasped, before breathing out and moving your hands on his thick and long cock. He groaned while looking at you, gently, yet firmly, stroking his pulsing member and paying attention also to his balls. “Mouth…” he whispered.

Before wrapping your mouth around him, you moved your tongue around his member and licked his entire length. You wet your lips and took a quick look at him: head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth slightly opened and knuckles white as his grip tightened on the border of the desk.

Ransom Drysdale was melting under your touch and you acknowledged it.

You smiled at yourself and kept your eyes on him as you placed a soft kiss on the red tip of his cock. Then you opened your mouth and started lowering your head on him.

It wasn’t the first time you gave a blowjob to a man; you knew what to do and how to please them. Yet it was your first time taking someone that big.

Surprisingly you had no problems in deep throating him; his tip hit the back of your throat and you swallowed not to choke. Once you had gained more confidence, you began moving your head up and down -never allowing cold air to hit on Ransom’s cock. You pace raised when you felt him growing even harder -if possible- and becoming warmer than before.

Your right hand was still playing with his balls when the man brought both his hands to your head and took a handful of your hair; you immediately rested both your hands on his thighs and a second after Ransom pushed you down on his cock. He stood dead straight for a moment, then he bent over and forced you in that position.

Your hands gripped his ass, founding it soft, yet perfectly contracted, as he face-fucked you. Your not choking on him made Ransom even more furious and he increased his pace; his cock was deep inside your mouth and his balls were clipping against your chin, wet by drips of saliva dribbling from your lips.

“Right”, thrust, “How”, another thrust, “You”, rough thrust, “Like”, deep thrust, “Takin’ it”, Ransom stopped thrusting as he came. A warm flow was released in your mouth and you did nothing but swallowing all Ransom was giving you. You felt it going down your throat, yet the built man wouldn’t get out of your mouth, “Keep it warm, just like the whore you are”.

You stayed there, occasionally slipping your tongue around him as he closed his eyes and thrusted in you another couple of times. Suddenly his tip hit the inside of your cheek and Ransom slapped it, bringing to him another wave of pleasure.

“Mr. Drysdale are you in there?”

You blinked as you heard Sam’s voice coming straight to your ears, your eyes went to the door and you quickly recall in your mind the moment in which you’d locked the door before. Then you went back on Ransom with your gaze and saw bother on his face.

“Yes, we’re planning my agenda. What’s the problem?” he pulled out of you and you touched your aching jaw while closing your mouth, “Is that urgent?”

“Mrs. Drysdale is here and would like to talk with you.”

Ransom panted and rubbed a hand over his face, “Give me a couple of minutes!” he yelled back and stood up.

You brought your hands up to his thighs and, under his bewildered gaze, you lifted his boxers, zipped his pants and buckled his buckle, “Yesterday you took care of me, today I’m fixing your jeans. Your mother doesn’t want to know you’ve just face-fucked your assistant”, you got up and encouraged him to exit the office and reaching Linda Drysdale-Thrombey in the living room.

Before leaving the room, Ransom turned to look at you as you got up, unleashed your hair, and headed to the little bathroom in the office. Just the fact that he would rather prefer to sit down and stare at you while you walked around his house as you owned it, made him think that he needed to talk with the only person who would give him good advice.

And then he thought about fucking you on his desk.

Tag List -open-: 

@sinner-as-saint

@andreasworlsboring101

@hazmyheart

@this-is-selena  couldn’t tag

@constantlywishingonstars​

@captainchrisstan​

@im-married-to-chris-evans​

@stargazingfangirl18​

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@vivien-1211​

@beepbeepbop​

@aikeia​

@princess-evans-addict​

@candypurplebutterfly​

@salvatore1864stuff couldn’t tag

@farihafangirls​

@xoxloaveasre​ 

[scarlettwitcher]

Let Me Love You Part One

Request: by Anon: Hi! I saw you're taking requests for the Witcher and we wondering if you could do a Geralt x female reader fic where the reader feel their feelings are one sided for Geralt. Perhaps she tries to ignore it but over time it hurts too much seeing him with other women and eventual feels unneeded and tries to part ways hoping some time away will help. Big shock it doesn't and Geralt tries to find her? I'm in need of that sweet dose of heavy angst with a happy ending I hope this isn't too specific!

Summary: Y/n is tired of hurting and makes a big decision. When Geralt goes after her and finds her, he’s faced with a bigger situation than he anticipated.

Characters: Geralt, Y/n, Jaskier, OMC!Matteus, mention of Yennefer

Word Count: 2,906

Warnings: angst, mentions of blood, tiny bit of Jaskier fluff, cursing

Author’s Note: So this is going to be a two parter since again my writing and ideas got away from me! I hope you guy’s like this! I am currently working on chapter 2 for You’re Mine Omega but I don’t have a definite date to when I’ll be posting it! Sorry guys! Shoutout to my beautiful girl @queenxxxsupreme for always being the best support and helping me out by betaing! Give her love! Tag lists and requests are open so if you’d like to be tagged or you have a request, shoot me an ask! As always, thanks for reading and feedback is always welcome/needed!

Never in your life did you think you'd be jealous of a prostitute but here you were. You watched as Geralt walked off towards the town's brothel and clutched the reins to your horse tighter. Jaskier noticed as you glared at the Witcher's back and put his hand on your shoulder, pulling you with him towards the tavern. Walking in, you found the farthest table against the corner, and sat there, sulking as you watched some patrons eye you and Jaskier silently. Jaskier came over with two mugs of ale, passing one to you. You gripped the mug tightly as you stared at the drink, as if it had murdered your kin. "How long are you going to keep subjecting yourself to this, Y/n?"

"As if this was my choice." 

"It may not be but why torture yourself? I see how it affects you, darling, and it worries me." 

"It's my own fault. I fell for him. I wrote my own fate really." Jaskier just shook his head as he strummed his lute absentmindedly. You never planned on telling the bard about your unrequited feelings for Geralt but he caught on pretty quickly after traveling for a few months with the both of you, that you really didn't have to tell him in the first place. He noticed your stares, your lingering touches, and he heard you. He listened to the way you tried to silently cry yourself to sleep when Geralt left to spend the night at a brothel or he slept with someone he saved. Jaskier grew worried about you. 

The night you told him, you all had stopped at a small town to rest for the night. You stopped at the town's tavern and you had drunk way more than your weight in Ale. You stumbled back to the room you had booked, next to the boys, but really, you tumbled into Geralt's room. It was, of course, empty. You screamed and sobbed into the quiet room until Jaskier came running in, finding you a mess on the floor. He instantly took you in his arms as you cried in his chest and confessed everything, confessed your love for the Witcher. Jaskier listened silently as you poured your heart and soul to him about how much everything was hurting you. You couldn't even look at Geralt anymore because you'd burst into tears. You knew he cared about you, that much you knew, but he cared about you in a painful way, he cared about his friend. After that night, Jaskier never left your side, didn't even let you room alone. You were grateful for his constant attention and care, but it was just another reminder. There were moments where you swore Geralt was more grumpy and short with Jaskier, glaring at him here and there when he wouldn't leave your side, but you always marked it as wishful thinking and moved on.

You had been traveling with Geralt for almost two years. He had saved you from a monster and you took a huge interest in the profession. After following him through a few towns, he finally reluctantly agreed to train you and let you tag along. It quickly turned into a great friendship and within the year, the two of you became a very known duo, getting even more popular when Jaskier began to sing ballads of the two. Even though you weren't a Witcher, Geralt considered you one and you took it as the best compliment he could've ever said about you. You wore the title proudly. You could never pinpoint the moment you fell in love with him. It was just a build up of tiny moments. The way he always saved food for you, or how close he got when he was training you. The way he got your weapons custom made with the Witcher symbols engraved on all of them. The way he treated you when you were really injured. There was a moment where you could even swear he felt the same about you but it came crashing down when Yennefer came into the picture. You knew you couldn't compete with her. She was gorgeous. You knew you weren't ugly, the way men hit on you consistently told you so but Yennefer was another league completely. So you did what you always did, stepped back and watched as Geralt chewed your heart and spit it out time and time again. 

"You could still tell him." 

"You've gone mad bard. Compose your song, would you?" Jaskier only snorted as a faint smile painted his features but soon it was replaced with a scowl and a deep sigh left his chest. 

"You deserve to be loved as much as you love him."

"You know what I think Jask?" The bard stopped playing with his lute as his eyes watched your sunken form. Ever since the night you confessed everything, you had been draining yourself. You looked sick, pale, dark bags under your eyes. You were more fidgety and even eating became a forgotten thought. Jaskier pushed you as much as he could but it was like you gave up. Jaskier couldn't count how many times he yelled at Geralt, told him off for not caring about you enough, berated and scolded him. "I'm tired."

"We can go get a room for the night and then we can tal-"

"No J. I'm tired. I don't think I ca- Geralt?" Jaskier looked to his side as Geralt sat at the table, next to him. He clenched his jaw as sweet perfume filled his senses. Jaskier glared at Geralt. He knew the scent belonged to the prostitute he slept with and was covered in it. His eyes snapped to you as you took a shaky breath, trying to breathe through your mouth, the scent almost like poison in your lungs. 

"I thought you were busy for the night." You looked at Jaskier solemnly. It wasn't like him to snap at Geralt but it seems the two were at each other's throats all the time. Geralt only grunted in response as he took your untouched ale and drank a bit. You stayed quiet as your eyes fell to the table. The scent that was undeniably all over Geralt made you sick. Just another reminder that you could never be what he wanted. You stood up and left without a word, pulling your hood over your head. You walked out of the tavern, Jaskier hot on your heels. "Y/n?"

You didn't respond and he followed you to your horse as you rummaged through your bags, making sure you had everything. You noticed Roach in the next stall and sighed as you rubbed his nose softly. The horse huffed at you, almost like he could read your mind, knowing about what you were going to do. Roach nudged your shoulder hard, making you look at him. You willed the tears away and kissed his nose gently." Don't make this hard on me Roach." You spoke quietly, only wanting him to hear you. Once you gained your composure, wiping the tears away, you walked over to Geralt's satchels. 

Searching through his things, you took a couple of herbs and one of your shirts that was yours. You looked at the things you had gifted him through the years and felt your eyes water once more. You pulled out the pin you had bought him at a shop when you first met him. You smiled to yourself, remembering how confused he was when you handed it to him. It was a pin with a wolf, a girl hugging the wolf protectively. You always joked and said it was the two of you, that you would be the one who'd protect him. You pushed the memory out of your head as you dropped the pin back into his satchel. You noticed a few other of your shirts, including your favorite one. Geralt had claimed it one night after a rough job and never gave it back, not that you'd take it from him anyways. You left the rest of your things that you really didn't need in Geralt's satchels. Jaskier watched you as you took some things, stuffing them into your satchels. He reached up and grabbed your wrist gently, making you stop. "Look at me, darling." You stared at the floor before you did as he asked, finally catching his worried eyes. They softened as he looked at you, wiping away the tears that had fallen on your cheeks. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"You were right. Why am I doing this to myself? I deserve better and I won't find it following him to the ends of the world. I-" You sighed quietly as you hugged Jaskier tightly, burying your face into his chest. "I need some time." Jaskier finally let himself smile softly in relief as he pulled back to look at you. 

"I will miss you. Who's going to tell me shitty jokes while we travel?"

You laughed into his chest, taking a deep breath. "Take care of him." You squeezed him before pulling away, and jumping onto your horse. You nodded towards Jaskier before riding off into the night, disappearing through the woods. Jaskier swallowed thickly as he left to his room for the night, knowing if he got close to Geralt, he would probably go off on him. 

Geralt had stepped out of the tavern wondering why you and Jaskier were taking too long to come back in. He saw Jaskier's back as he walked towards the inn and figured that you had retired to your room and Jaskier was following. He felt his heart drop just a bit as he thought about Jaskier returning to your room with you. Geralt noticed it since the first day. He noticed how Jaskier never left your side, always was with you, hugging you, touching you affectionately, noticed the way you always slept together. It filled him with burning jealousy but he would never interfere with your relationship. He realized he was too late and he tried his best to ignore the feeling of his heart breaking little by little every time he was near the both of you. He fucked his way through every brothel in the towns the three of you stayed at but it was never enough. Nobody compared to you. 

Geralt decided he needed a night to himself and walked off into the forest, towards a nearby river. He sat down on a large boulder and watched the stars the whole night, not even caring that he didn't get any sleep. Once the sun rose and the day was bright, he made his way back to town, noticing only Jaskier walking out of the inn. His brows furrowed but decided he wouldn't question it as he followed Jaskier into the tavern from the night before. He sat at the bard's table but Jaskier wouldn't look at him. "Jaskier?"

"You're a fool." 

"Wha-"

"She left." Geralt was confused. Not from the bard's cold tone but from what he said. "What are you talking about?"

"Y/n left last night. She's gone." Geralt immediately stood, glaring at Jaskier. "And before you ask me where so you can go brood angrily and try to find her, she left because of you. I know you knew she loved you. She just couldn't handle it being unrequited."

Geralt pondered quietly on Jaskier's words as he slowly sat back down. He couldn't meet his eyes anymore as guilt filled him. "How would you know it was unrequited?" 

"After all of that, you're going to say some bullshit like that?"

"Jaskier." Geralt growled his warning but he knew the Bard was right. He knew it too well. "You know how much I care about her. I wasn't going to make a move when she was with someone else."

"What are you talking about? She hasn't been with anyone since she started traveling with you." 

"What about you?"

"Geralt, we were never together. Did you- did you think we were dating?" 

"What else would I think?" 

"That maybe she was getting sick and was unhealthy because of all the stupid pining she did after you that I was trying to keep her alive? Geralt, she was deteriorating. It was killing her. Not being loved back. I'm actually glad she left. She needs a life of her own." Geralt couldn't respond, staring at the table instead as he clenched his fists, trying to control his anger. He stood up abruptly once more, making his way out of the tavern, towards the stables. He needed to find you. 

"Don't go after her."

"Stay out of this Jaskier."

"No!" Geralt sighed, letting his shoulders fall just a bit, turning to face Jaskier. 

"She needs to know it wasn't just her."

"Give her time."

"She's had enough." With that, Geralt climbed onto Roach and road off towards the forest, unbeknownst to him, in the opposite direction from where you went, but Jaskier wasn't going to tell him that. 

One year later… 

You were bent down in front of the stream that was flowing in the middle of the forest, splashing some water on your face. The last hunt you had was gruesome and you were covered head to toe in monster blood and guts. You felt gross but you knew the next town over was a days travel and you would have to hold out. You heard the slightest shuffle behind you. Any other person wouldn’t have picked up the sound but Geralt had trained you relentlessly and you were really good at it. Your heart panged for a second as you thought about the Witcher. It had been a year since you had left him and Jaskier at the tavern but it was the best choice you could’ve made for yourself. Getting lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice someone creeping up closer behind you, leaning on a tree, watching you silently.

“You are a hard one to track.” 

You didn’t move from your spot, continuing to wash your face even though your heart was pounding a million miles a minute. You instantly knew who it was but you couldn’t give into him like you always did. He chuckled quietly as he watched you act indifferent towards him. “You always did try to act tough, but you always forget I can hear your heart, dove.” You cursed him quietly as you stood from your spot and turned, facing him for the first time in a year.

“Geralt. I see you haven’t changed.” You turned to the side, walking past him, towards your horse and your makeshift campsite. You peeled off your dirty jacket, dropping it on a log as you rubbed your horse’s nose, it huffing back in response, eliciting a smile from you. Geralt followed you, standing near the fire you had started. He looked around at your set up, brows furrowing momentarily as he noticed a few things he didn’t recognize. 

“You know me.”

“I used to.” You mumbled this under your breath but you knew he heard you. You couldn't move your head to look at him, scared of seeing any kind of emotion on his face. Geralt looked a bit taken aback by your comment but it had been a year, things were going to be different. He took a seat on the only log and watched you quietly. 

“Are you going to tell me why you left?”

“No.” You realized there was nowhere else to sit and sighed exasperatedly, sitting next to Geralt on the log. You watched the fire quietly, feeling his gaze burning into the side of your face. It annoyed you how he felt like he could just walk back into your life and expect you to be as compliant as you used to be. You finally met his eyes and you saw the pain. He looked at you longingly. 

“It took me a year to find you.” His voice had lowered as he slowly moved closer to you, raising an arm up to cup your cheek. “I missed you dove.” 

You felt your eyes water at his confession. You couldn’t fall back into this hole. You pushed his hand away as you stood, pacing next to the fire. “No. You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to just come back and think that I’m ready to drop everything and leave with you. You hurt me, Geralt, a lot and I can’t let you do that to me again.” 

“I know.” Geralt stood and walked over to you, looming over you as he tried to touch you again, but you pushed away from him, putting some distance between the both of you. “I know I messed up, but I want to fix things. That’s why I’ve been looking for you. I need you to know that I lov-”

“Woo! I finally caught that deer that I told you I saw. We’re going to be eating plenty, my love.” Your eyes widened just a bit as they broke the lock they had with Geralt’s eyes to look at your lover, Matteus. He was holding a large, dead deer in his hands as he noticed you with a strange man, feeling confused. “Who’s this?”

You took a deep breath as you pointed at the Witcher. “Matteus, this is Geralt of Rivia. Geralt, this is my boyfriend, Matteus.”

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[commander-rahrah]

RESIDENCY: SECOND CHANCES (AN OPEN HEART FIC): PART FOUR

Pairing: MC (Jordynne Holland) X Ethan Ramsey X Bryce Lahela; MC X Bryce; MC X Ethan. Please note that both pairings are present in this fan fiction — off & on, at the same times, and the relationships do ebb & flow. Please keep this in mind. Thank you.

Masterlist: Click Here

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 3940+

Description:  Everybody’s first day back at Edenbrook. Is this second year everything they will need it to be?

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Jordynne’s background is my own creation, based loosely off of MC in-game’s personality and provided with more details.

Author’s Note: Ha. Soooo, its been a while. A long while. Many factors went into delaying updating this fic. First of all -- the pandemic. I am an essential worker. I am tired, and stressed. Yes, still. I am tired. I wake up, drive, work, drive, home, eat, sleep. That’s it. My freetime, creativity. mental health, etc. has been at an all time low. Second of all -- life. Soooo much has happened for my little family. My partner and I bought our first home and rescued our absolutely gorgeous puppy from a rescue shelter. It can be a bit hard to find time to write between putting your entire life into boxes, not having any furniture for 3 months and chasing after a puppy. Third -- I honestly felt like I lost my touch with my characters after reading Open Heart 2. The hiatus was understandable but long. There were chapters that were amazing, and heartbreaking and made me feel like I was soooo excited to write them. And then... by the end of Book 2... I felt lost? My favorite characters voices seem muffled. And I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep going. Do I ignore scenes/rewrite them? Would that compromise the premise of my fic? Being a fic that is in addition to the original PB story? I’m still a little lost if I am completely honest. Fourth -- general posting anxiety. Which I try so hard to avoid, and not think of. But comparison games, lack of notes and activity can get to you when you open yourself creatively online. 

But messages of encouragement and inquiries into the next update helped! And I thank everyone who checked in on the fic and on me to see what was going on ♡♡♡ Honestly, I felt like I had no time to write, and even if I did I wasn’t motivated or inspired enough to do it. Tonight, I felt good. The news of OH3 was a bit of a kick starter for me I won’t lie. But I want to get back into these character’s heads -- I want to figure out the god damn mess that Jordynne has made for herself with Ethan and Bryce!! 

As always any likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated. If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list please just let me know! It has been a long time since the fic updated so please let me know if you no longer want to be tagged or want to be tagged. 

Taglist: @drakewalkerfantasy​ @owleyes-374​ @lahelable​ @mayah-mahdy @paisleylovergirl​ @nicquix​ @emilymay100​ @octobereighth​ @llamasgrl​ @timmagicktoad​ @lilyofchoices @msjpuddleduck​ @mfackenthal​ @paulfwesley​ @ccolz88-blog​ @mindlessdreaminxo @jooous​ @lapisreviewsstuff​ @choicesarehard​ @themingdynasty​ @omgjasminesimone​ @hopelessly-shipper​ @binny1985​ @perriewinklenerdie​ @jens-diamondchoices​ @indiacater​ @chasingrobbie​ @writingsbymissy @dimitriwife​ @tacohead13​ @amy-choices @mrsmatsuo @checkurwindow​ @imrookieramsey​ @bitchloveskcbaseball​ @mrs-ramsey​

Previous Updates: Residency — Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen

Residency: Second Chances – Part One Part Two Part Three

Bryce stood near the entrance to Edenbrook — shuffling from one foot to another. Both hands were wrapped around paper coffee cups — one of which he took a careful sip of. 

So he had stopped to get her a latte from her favorite café. He knew she would probably be in a huge rush to get to work early and wouldn’t stop to get one. He wanted her day to start off right. At least he hadn’t shown up to the apartment.

Well, the thought had crossed his mind but he had quickly pushed it away. This was about being her friend. He just wanted Jordynne to have a good first day.

His dark eyes kept flicking towards the subway stairs, waiting patiently for that familiar blonde head to come bobbing up. Placing one of the cups on top of the other, he balanced them carefully as he dug into his jeans pocket for his phone. Maybe she had texted — 

“Oh Bryce — hey!” His ears perked up at the voice, and was met with a warm smile. The smile that occupied his waking dreams. He liked being the reason for that smile. 

“Hey Jordy!” God, why did he sound so breathless.

“Happy first day as a resident!” He shoved his phone back into his pocket, before grabbing onto her latte and extending it out, “I thought you should be extra caffeinated for your day, so I got you...” But his voice trailed off as he realized she was already clutching a travel mug to her chest. “Oh you already got one.”

“Uh, yeah,” Her smile turned sheepish, “I had the exact same thought process as you actually.” 

“Heh—,” he chuckled, “I guess I know you pretty well.” 

Her green eyes flashed with a look he couldn’t quite read, “Guess you do.” “Well, do you want it still...?” He held out the lukewarm latte again, unsure what to do with it. 

“Hey, I’m still Jordynne Holland. When have I ever denied extra caffeine?” Bryce’s white teeth bit his lip as they stretched into a smile. He handed her the cup — their fingers grazing slightly. 

“Thanks.” 

They fell into step behind the other roommates, trailing into the hospital. As they walked together, Bryce suddenly struggled to find what to say. He had never been one to stay quiet — usually he was the outspoken one. But now he just watched her grasp onto her two coffee cups tightly, her eyes low as she walked into Edenbrook. 

Once they made there way into the staff locker room, they separated to their own lockers. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she carefully sat her two drinks down, before grabbing her white coat. She slipped it on effortlessly, before wrapping her stethoscope around her neck. Flipping her blonde ponytail out, she turned to speak with Sienna — her voice to low for him to hear.

Jordynne looked amazing — her lean legs and hips wrapped in a deep green skirt that showed off just enough that it was both sexy and tasteful. Her high necked pale blouse brought out her olive skin. She could be the woman on the front of the pamphlets they hand out to pre-med undergrads. She already was the doctor she was aspiring to be — and he knew she would fit in well with the Diagnostics team. He thought of Ramsey — his pressed trousers, and leather dress shoes. His watch that probably cost more then Bryce’s car. Grinding his molars, he looked down at the wrinkles trousers and Nikes in his hands. Peeling his shirt off he tossed it gently into his locker, letting out a sigh.

But he quickly masked it as Jordynne went to leave the locker room. “Hey,” He caught her attention before she went to leave, “You’re gonna kill it, Holland.” 

“Thanks Lahela,” She gave him that smile again. The one that made everything flutter. 

“I’ll save you a seat at lunch?”

“Oh—“ Her eyebrows furrowed slightly in the middle, “I’m not sure how my day will look with the team... I’ll play it by ear?” She offered, looking a little guilty. 

“Yeah— yeah of course...” His voice sounded a little strained. “We’ll catch you later.” 

She nodded at him, pushing her hands into her pockets, “Okay, yeah. See you guys in the atrium,” She called out over her shoulder, her blonde ponytail swinging as she walked away. 

Bryce’s brown eyes flickered over to the rest of her roommates, who were all watching with slightly worried looks. It was starting to settle in. Maybe this second year, this second chance — was the beginning of everything changing. ________________________________________________________________ He had originally come up here to get accustomed to his new surroundings. Get a lay of the land. The board had spared no expense with the new wing expansion — and the Diagnostic team’s new office was no joke. 

Ethan was standing across the hall from the room — staring into the room through the glass walls. Everything inside was sleek, shiny and new. His hands were bunched up fists in the pockets of his trousers, and the tie around his neck felt a little tight. Had he forgotten what all of this was like while he was away?  

Thirty minutes he had stood there. 

Thirty. 

Standing there and imagining where he would sit at the table — discussing with the team, leading them to the right diagnosis. Researching at the desk, pouring over the hundred books that was supplied for them in there. 

But the picture in his head was fuzzy. Even in his imagination Ethan felt like something didn’t feel right. What was it? 

The team? No. Mirani and Hirata always did excellent work. He could rely on them.

Was it that Naveen was missing? So many of his biggest successes with the team was with Naveen. And he definitely felt his absence this past year. He had also never really adjusted to the idea of being the team lead for the department. It was thrust upon him, not once but twice. And both times he had been unprepared. Being a leader wasn’t exactly what he had always hoped for in his career.

Ethan’s thick brows were furrowed as he thought, the gears in his mind whirling. Why had he been staring at the office for thirty minutes? What was stopping him from going inside and just doing his damn work? That’s what he came back for — so what was his trepidation? 

The light flickering on in the diagnostic teams office brought him back to reality. The room was illuminated, the white light shining through the glass walls and spilling into the hall. 

There she was. 

Jordynne stood at the entrance of the office, her back facing him as she took it all in. She hadn’t notice him from across the large hallway. Ethan stepped back into the shadows — hoping she wouldn’t see him capturing the moment. A silent laugh escaped him as he watched her set not one, but two coffee cups down onto the table. His lips remained upturned as he watched her wander deeper into the room, running her fingers over the smooth surface of the whiteboard. She had a soft smile on her face as she looked around her. 

“Good morning Dr. Ramsey!”

Ethan almost hissed at the sound of the cheerful voice next time. Looking over he saw Dr. Baz Mirani standing next to him with a wide smile spread across his face. 

“Morning,” He grumbled, looking back to his view of the diagnostics office where Jordynne had started to settle in. 

“That’s Dr. Holland right?” Baz followed his line of sight, and watching her for a moment. “Are you going to head in?” The young doctor questioned, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. 

He cleared his throat, before shaking his head, “You go ahead.”

The young man didn’t think anything of it, and marched over into the office. Ethan could hear their muffled voices through the glass as they introduced each other.

He noticed the next person that came up to him — Dr. Hirata. She gave him a nod, before pausing for a moment and staring at him in the dark side of the corridor. He could tell she was calculating, attempting to deduce what was keeping him out of their new office. But her face remained neutral and she turned on her heel and headed into the room. 

Maybe there were too many variables for her to figure it out too. 

His blue eyes watched as the three colleagues got familiar with each other, shaking hands and pleasantries. Maybe this would be a perfect time to go in. He had missed the awkward introductions — the worst part was over. He just had to go into the room. 

Running his hands over his white coat, Ethan crossed the hall and stepped into the brand new office. 

“Introductions done?” He asked, his thick brows raised. He glanced over them quickly, not long enough to make any eye contact. “Great. We’ve got work to do.” The glass door behind him gently hissed as it closed — leaving them all in the office together. 

Ok. First step done.

“We have an incoming patient from Manhattan Presbyterian.” The trio slid apart to make room for him as he marched to the board, pining up an abdominal CT scan. 

Jordynne, June and Baz grabbed a spot at the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.��

“Can you describe the patient?”

“Male, aged 45. Asian American.” He watched as Jordynne took out her trusty little black notebook, and started jotting down notes. 

“Symptoms?” 

“He presented with a fever, vomiting and diarrhea, and was treated for the flu. He returned several days later with enlarged lymph nodes, abdominal pain, and a rash on his shoulder.” Grabbing onto a black marker, he started to write the known symptoms down on the white board. With his back turned to the group for a moment, he let the corners of his lips turn up for a split second. This felt good. “What did his former doctors think it was?” 

“Hodgkin lymphoma.” He made sure he kept his face neutral -- to not give any answers away. 

June scoffed, “Amateurs. And his blood?” 

He almost laughed.

As the conversation started to amp up, Ethan slipped back into his role on the diagnostics team easier then he had imagined. Bouncing off of each other during the differential — he had missed this. 

Then he realized Jordynne hadn’t said anything. She was sitting in her chair, looking slightly awestruck. But she was still writing notes diligently and observing them going back and forth. 

“Six months ago, however, he was admitted for flu-like symptoms and a rash on his arm.” Ethan continued, drawing his eyes away from her and focusing back on the conversation. 

“That could be the key. Did they biopsy it?” Baz asked, eyebrows raised and face hopeful. 

He pursed his lips, “They didn’t.”

“Any history of dermatitis?” 

“Was he on any medication prior to being admitted?” 

June and Baz asked one after the other, going through their mental lists. “No and no.” 

“It could be cutaneous Kikuchi disease.” Hirata suggested. But she didn't do suggestions -- she diagnosed. 

Interesting.  

June had gotten there first. But she was always like that. It was a race for her.  

“The symptoms do add up.” Dr. Mirani nodded, giving his colleague a look of approval. 

“I agree.” 

There was a knock on the door, and they looked up to see Danny on the other side of the glass. Ethan waved him in where he announced the patient's arrival at Edenbrook.

“Excellent. Dr. Holland,” He spoke directly to her for the first time that morning —holding his breath as he waited for her reaction. But her face remained neutral, looking up at him through her lashes as she waited for him to finish, “Run a biopsy on the patient’s rash. If we’re correct, we’ll begin the patient on a treatment of nonsteroidal anti-inflammatories and prednisone.” 

He noticed her swallow for a moment, listening to her instructions. “And if we’re wrong?” 

“We’ll re-evaluate.” 

“But we won’t need to,” June said confidently, leaning across the table at Jordynne with a wink. 

“Team dismissed. I’ll page you if I need you again today.” He turned around, going back to the white board to add their final notes and treatment plan. 

Out of his peripheral vision he saw Baz put a gentle hand on Jordynne’s shoulder. He lowered his head to speak in her softly, “I made the same face my first few days on the team. You’ll get used to it.”  

Ethan crossed over to his desk to find the patient's file. Rummaging in his pockets, he found his glasses and slid them on. Without looking up from his file, he spoke to Jordynne who had remained in the room, “After you’re done with our patient, you can see Ines and Zaid for further assignments. You’ll be balancing your work here with your usual resident duties. Now that you’re in your second year, that will include rotations at the free clinic.” 

“Yes, Dr. Ramsey.” Her voice was so professional, so trained. He had never heard her sound like that. It was like she had practiced.

He heard the sound of her crossing the room, and stepping towards the door. But then she hesitated. “Will we always diagnose a patient without seeing them?” She asked. 

“No, but we’re often asked for help by other hospitals all over the country, so it’s a good habit to keep our blind diagnosis skills sharp.” He finally looked up from his file, using his finger as a bookmark in it. But when he looked over to, his stomach flipped slightly as he found that her green eyes already staring at him.

He could see her hesitation, and maybe some nerves. She had just been thrown into the deep end -- and it seemed she was struggling to stay afloat. 

“Is everything alright, Jordynne?” 

He couldn’t help himself. Plus, it was his responsibility to ensure her success on the team now. It was apart of his job to check in on her.

“Actually...,” She made sure the glass door closed, before stepping further into the room, “Could we talk?” Her fingers were knotted together in front of her -- she looked nervous, and vulnerable. 

Ethan studied her for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek, “About the job? Or about us?” 

Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment, like she was in pain. But it was for just for the smallest moment -- he had barely even caught it. “The job.”

Placing the file down, he pulled a chair from the center table out for her where they sat down together. He adjusted his glasses on the crook of his nose, before settling into his chair. “I’m all yours,” He said, folding his hands carefully on top of each other on the table as he waited for her to speak up.

“Dr. Ramsey...," A flicker of doubt crossed her face, before she opened her mouth, "How are you sure you made the right diagnosis?"

Grabbing the file in front of him, he pulled out the patient's previous charts and placed them in front of them. “In medicine, the most logical answer is usually the correct one. In this case, the most obvious answer was Hodgkin lymphoma.”

“But the other hospital had already eliminated Hodgkin lymphoma.” She finished for him. 

“Correct. Which allowed us to take it off the board and considered the next most logical answer.” He pointed back over his shoulder to the symptoms he had written on the board in his chicken scratch, “The patient had a persistent rash. Paired with the symptoms present, the most logical answer is Kikuchi disease." He met her eye easily across the table, before matching her vulnerability, "But as to how I’m so sure, I’m not. Which is why you’ll be running a biopsy. We need to trust in our diagnostic instincts, but the second we let arrogance overrule the results, we fail as doctors.” 

“So I should use logic... and be humble?” Her eyebrows were tugging in the middle as she processed his advice.  

“And read journals. I want you to turn yourself into a walking disease encyclopedia. You can’t diagnose the patient if you don’t study up. If the patients we saw had more common diseases... they’d never have been referred to us in the first place.” 

“Got it.” She nodded -- eyeing the bookshelves behind them that were filled with textbooks.

“So what did you think of the team?" He asked curiously, "It was the three of us under Naveen last year, until he put himself out to pasture.” 

A soft chuckle escaped her, “You mean became Chief of Medicine?”

He smiled at the sound, “Precisely.” 

“Well, we just met but I think I liked Baz.” Jordynne offered, pursing her lips.  

“He’s hard to dislike. Walking proof that genetics aren’t everything.” 

“When did he join the team?”

“A couple years ago, when Zaid began his residency. He sought a position here to be closer to his brother.” 

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, “Can’t believe Zaid would be okay with that.” 

“Supposedly, the old chief cleared it with Zaid before he approved the transfer. But I heard a rumor that it was Baz, dressed up pretending to be Zaid.” 

Her mouth fell open, “He wouldn’t!” 

He shrugged, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. “I don’t pay any mind to rumors.” 

She smirked back at him -- and he could feel the nervousness and ice melting between them. They could do this. 

Two colleagues conversing normally. This was fine. 

“So if I want to get on Baz’s good side, how do I go about that?” She leaned in a bit more towards him, putting her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her fist. 

Ethan thought for a moment before replying, “Baz is earnest to a fault. He respects authenticity more than anything so... as much as I despise saying anything so incredibly banal, my advice would be... “be yourself”,” He grimaced as the words left his mouth. 

“Oof—“ She chuckled, “That must have hurt to say aloud.” She knew him well. “That’s why you’ll never hear it again.” 

She let out another laugh, but this one sounded more sad. Then a sigh escaped her, and she started picking at her lip, “I thought I was so ready for this year. How do I feel like a clueless intern all over again?”

“Because you are clueless, relatively speaking.” 

She frowned, “Gee, thanks.”

His stomach dropped -- that's not what he meant. “It wasn't an insult," He scrambled to get out, "You get to spend the second year of your residency in a small room with over three decades of collective medical knowledge and experience. Learn from it. Be inspired to become a better doctor from it.” He looked up, and found her already looking at him again. His thick brows furrowed, “What is it?” 

“Oh uh... your glasses...," Her words trailed off as she looked at him, "They make you look smart.” She sounded a little breathless. 

He did his best to ignore how that made him feel, the blush that might have been creeping up on his cheeks. So he hid between cheek and tongue. “You’ve caught me. The illusion behind my status. Without these I’m a simpering moron.”

The pair was quiet for a beat, before bursting out laughing. As they laughed, she casually tapped his hand with hers. “Thank you,” She spoke again, but this time her voice was quiet. 

Her fingers had lingered on his hand, so she gave it a squeeze. They were cold on his warm skin.

Ethan's jaw set as he felt those familiar sparks. Jordynne...” His voice was a warning. It was only the first hour of their first day. 

“I know.” She said carefully, but she looked down at the table. 

“We’ll be okay. We’ll make it work.” 

He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. 

“Yeah,” She breathed out. 

He moved his thumb gently across her fingers, daring to give her just that smallest bit of comfort. But the sound of the glass door whooshing open caused him to rip his hand away. 

“Whoops! Forgot my pager! That could have been very bad!” Baz strolled back into the office -- oblivious to what he had just walked in on. 

Both Ethan and Jordynne bolted out of their chairs, stepping away from each other. 

“Hmm. Yes. It’s right over there on the table.” Ethan pointed before shoving his guilty hands into his lab coat.

“I’ll get those tests run.” Jordynne had moved to the door, her arms crossed over her chest and face flushing red with embarrassment. 

“Excellent. Thank you.” He said with a nod, watching as she turned on her heel and marched down the hallway. 

Why was nothing ever easy with Jordynne Holland? 

Would this year be any different? 

_______________________________________________________________

"Cholecystitis." Jordynne said as she finished adding it to the whiteboard in the diagnostics room. Her perfect block letters standing out drastically against Dr. Ramsey's messy scratch. "Inflamed gull bladder which explains the abdominal pain after eating. Which is entirely separate from Kikuchi disease."

She turned around, capping the pen with a confident smile. Esme was standing near the door, watching the scene unfurl with crossed arms. 

"I have to say, I'm not sure I would have spotted that." June spoke first -- looking mildly impressed. 

"Nice catch, Jordynne." Baz gave her a big smile. 

"Indeed. Especially since we had been diagnosing based on reports, not our own face-to-face interviews. Dr. Holland's specialty has always been listening to her patients. Well done." He gave her a nod, a smile threatening to show on his face. 

"It wasn't just me. Dr. Ortega assisted." She nodded to her intern at the door. She knew that drove Ethan crazy -- passing along credit to her colleagues. But Esme deserved it. 

"Hey," Esme nodded her head at the trio from the corner of the room, attempting a smile.

"So this is your intern?" Ramsey stepped forward, eyebrows raised. "Well, Dr. Ortega...," He sized her up for a moment, before moving his steely eyes over to Jordynne. "Dr. Holland's one of our best. Consider yourself lucky."

Jordynne felt warmth spread in her chest -- feeling proud of herself. High praise from Dr. Ramsey -- everything between them aside. 

"I do, Dr. Ramsey." 

"Keep me updated on his treatment." Ethan asked politely, before filing out of the room with the rest of the diagnostics team. 

"So I guess you're pretty good at this." Her intern looked at her with a little smirk. "You saw for yourself, I learned from the best. Edenbrook has some of the best doctors in America, and you'll learn from them all. And not just the attendings, but your fellow interns too. I wouldn't have made it through without my friends."

"You telling me to what... be more social?" Esme looked up at her -- her face filled with doubt.

She shrugged, the corners of her lips tugging up, "It can't hurt."

"It definitely can."

"Donahue's from the other night? That's where everyone goes. But first, let's get you back to your patients." Jordynne started to shuffle out of the office, but Esme's voice stopped her. 

"Right... Hey, Dr. Holland? Thanks for not bailing on me. Gotta say, that's a new one." She sounded genuine.

"Sure thing, Ortega. I got your back." 

This year could be different.

[sometimes-i-write-4-you]

Lupa-Tundra thing - Hamish Duke X reader

request by @pamelalur15​: Hi can i get an imaginr with Hamish of The Order where the reader is part of The Knights and he has a huge crush on her but doesnt want to tell her.

a\n: for the sake of the fanfic I made up a hide called Lupa and she's like.. the mom friend of the hides.

"Hey" I smiled at my tall, blond, blue-eyed.. friend. Just a friend. "Hey" he smiled back. I entered the "reliquary" As Jack insisted on calling it. Hamish stood there, reading a diary he believed belonged to the former champion who was Tundra. "Journal" his voice corrected me. Even in my thoughts, he's still an arrogant prick.

He looked up from the book to catch me staring at his perfect character - With his sharp bone structure, and perfectly combed hair, and those blue eyes that looked at you like they can see right through your bullshit.

"I was just, uh, admiring the outfit. I like the pants chain, very, uh, up-to-date fashion with---" I started mumbling, embarrassed to be caught yet again. "Belt chains became popular back in the 50's, so I wouldn't necessarily call it up-to-date fashion" Hamish corrected me. I sigh and nod, "yeah, obviously, I knew that" I said, but it's the least convincing acting I've done ever since my shining moment as "tree #3" in my school's production of Peter pan.

He laughed and took one last look at the book before putting it aside.

"So, why did you call me?" I asked, biting my lips as I looked around. The place was a mess, and it looked like Hamish just did some heavy researching.  "I need your help going through these books" he said. "what?" I said, confused. "see, there are a lot of books, a lot of information. I'm one person, I can't look through it all" Hamish explained. I guess it makes sense. I grabbed the closest book and started reading it.

"do you want a drink?" Hamish offered. I was in the finale pages of "The History Of Hides", a journal of a knight from god-knows-how-many years ago. it listed known hides through-out the years and certain patterns, like Midnight sacrificing himself. I wonder if Lilith has a crush on Randall or Hamish then.

"sure" I replied, and as I started to say my favorite drink, he said the same. "-yeah, I know" he laughed, and went to make it. As I finished the book, he came back and handed me my glass. "thank you" I smiled, and he grinned back. i swear, whenever this small smile spread across his face, my heart starts to go so fast I'm scared Hamish's enhanced senses can pick that up.

"so, learned anything interesting?" he asked. "turns out Midnight usually sacrifices himself" I say, "dodged a bullet then, ha?" I laugh. "yeah, definitely" Hamish says as he took a sip of his drink. When I was accepted into the knights it was Silverback, Midnight and Lupa. Both Midnight and Lupa came out of their trunk that night, but Lupa got to me first. Silverback is sexist apparently, because according to the journal I read his hide always chooses guys.

"how about you?" I asked. "well, nothing much, it was all mentioned in the other books as well" he replied. "oh" I said, and we kept talking until my favorite song cut him mid-sentence.

"shit, Hamish, I really need to go" I said, "it's my 'go to bed already' alarm". I started searching for my bag between the piles of books. "you have an alarm for that?" he asked, and I nodded. "yes, I get really sucked into rom-coms" I confess, lowering my voice as I finally find the bag. "okay" he says, "bye then". He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into a hug.

"he did what?!" Lilith screams. "oh my god, Lilith lower your voice" I sigh. "sorry" she says, giving a side-eye to a girl who looked at us weird. "anyways, yeah, it's so weird" I say. "Hamish? Hugging someone? That's not weird, that's supernatural. And coming from, you know, me, that's something" she corrects me, and I laugh. "yeah" I say, "that's some supernatural shit right there. Sam? Dean? Got your new case".

"hi" Hamish smiles at me from across the hall, and I smile back. "oh, let me help you with that" he says, rushing to me to grab my books. He sneaked in a subtle hug as he grabbed the pile in my hands, which featured Philosophy 101 or whatever it was called, a notebook for notes, a notebook for scribbles and the essay I wrote yesterday. "thanks" I say. Lilith looks at him, and then at me. "freaking supernatural" she mutters. "ha?" Hamish asks. "nothing, we just talked about the TV show, supernatural" I quickly say before Lilith will say the real topic we discussed. We arrive to class, and Hamish puts down the books at my seat, waving at me before going to the board.

"oh my god, nice move" the girl by my side whispers. "Beth, for the 100th time I am not – quote unquote – banging the professor" I sigh. "oh, I know, but he definitely wants a piece of that" she says, discussing the fact she's pointing at me by using her pencil to do that. "yeah, whatever" I reply, not interested in arguing, and she smiled with satisfaction. "just go for it, it's an easy A if you ask me" she says, and I roll my eyes. If only he meant nothing more to me.

The day was finally over, and after hanging out with the knights it was finally my time to get 'home' meaning my dorm. Hamish offered to walk me, which made Lilith look at me with wide-open eyes. When I told her what Beth said, she agreed, although she phrased it differently. "Hamish is into you, that's the only explanation" she said, and the more I heard it the more i believed it. It might just be the fact I wanted it to be true.

We walked quietly, and it was nice. The campus is so beautiful, and the moonlight makes it so… calming. Maybe it's the fact you can actually see the view and the view is not couples making out, students smoking and fighting���

"I love how the moonlight makes this place look" Hamish said. "dude, I know you're senses are sharp but you just straight up read my mind" I laughed, and so did he. "anything new you found today?" I asked, "you spent a lot of time in the reliquary-" "don't call it that, we are not giving Jack that win-" "why not?" I laugh, and he just sighs and answer my question.

"I did, yeah. Turns out the original Lupa and Tundra had an affair" he said, looking at me, "and ever since, their champions are just… drawn to each other, they always end up falling in love" he cuts the eye content I finally dared to make. "say what now?" I reply. "i- yeah no, I just made that up" he says, "I thought it would make something easier to say, but now that I am actually hearing it out loud, it's ridicules. Sounds straight out of a really bad teen drama" he says, and for once in my life I hear him nervous.

"what's the thing you wanted to say?" I ask and stop walking for two reasons: this is a serous conversation, and my dorm-building door is right next to us.

"well, (y\n), I like you. A lot, actually, and not in the same way I like the other knights" Hamish says. "oh, so like what? you like me as a-" "as a girlfriend, I hope" he cuts me off. "oh" I say, and with the lack of words I go for actions. My hand reaches for his cheek, and his hands reach for my waist.

He leans down, and I pull him closer and he pulls me into the kiss. our lips move against the other's in perfect synch, it's like the Lupa-Tundra thing wasn't made up and we are simply meant to be together.

"so you ARE banging the professor" Beth says the moment I walk into the dorm room. "I- we literally just kissed for the first time. Also, why do you know that, you fucking stocker, did you watch us from the window-" I say, and she nods with a "uh-ha". "-And he is not a professor, he's a TA" I correct her, but her satisfied smile doesn't come off. "whatever" she says and gets under her blanket. I sigh and wave at Hamish through the window. He smiles at me, and I just want to feel his lips against mine again, so I do what anyone would do and leave my room. I open the door to find Hamish with his hand in the air, ready to knock. I grab his cheeks and kiss him. "exactly what I wanted to do" he smiles into the kiss, adjusting his hands around my waist.

"go bang the TA somewhere else, I need some sleep to work on the essay, unlike you I don't bang the TA" Beth calls from under the covers, and I bite my lips trying to holdback the laughter. He smiles, "well, I should get back, Lilith and Randell must be wondering why It takes me so long" Hamish said, and gave me a short sweet kiss for goodbye. "Bye, Hamish" I say, waving, "bye Mr. Duke!" adds Beth.

[ary-se]

Mankai with a cat

a few months ago, our cat scratched me right on my cheek and my first thought out of all things was "what if mankai had a cat" pls get me out of this brainrot 😣

on a side note, this got way TOO LONG so i'm putting it under the cut!! this also works as an apology since i was gone for too long without notice 🙇‍♀️ as always, thank you for reading!

🐾 having a pet for the dorm was a subject mankai always brought up. it definitely sounds like a good idea for a domestic setting, but actually getting a pet is out of the question. sakyo didn't allow it due to obvious reasons, and of course it involved the company's budget.

🐾 there was one time however when muku and yuki went back to the dorms with a white stray cat that had a sprain. that time, sakyo would've given them a lecture like usual, but he gave in anyways and told them that they can foster the cat and they'll let it go after its leg gets better.

🐾 unfortunately for sakyo, everyone got way too attached to the cat before its sprain healed, and sakyo also adored the cat but of course he wouldn't openly admit that. after a week, when the cat got better, it only took a few buttons to push before sakyo agreed to finally keeping the cat, under the condition that they are not getting another pet again.

🐾 no one knew who started calling the cat koko, though it just seemed so natural that everybody else started to follow suit, which was pretty convenient because they didn't have to fight over the cat's name when mankai will finally keep her as a pet. (fun fact coco is the name of our cat)

🐾 that week, tenma deadass acted like an expecting father having his very first child, it was really unnerving to see. taichi and juza would often join tenma in shopping for random cat toys after school, which usually lasts longer than girls shopping for a singular pair of heels and that already says a lot

🐾 the conversation usually goes like this

tenma: "what's the best color for this toy mouse?"

taichi: "i like the red one!"

juza: "that's fine too."

tenma, after 10 minutes: "i see, i'll just buy all 7 colors"

🐾 tenma spoiled koko a LOT. teasers? balls? lasers? plushies? you name it, and tenma literally had them in ALL available colors. he did not really care if some of the toys remained untouched, as long as koko had something to be busy with. tenma had a huge ass box of cat toys that he could open up his own damn store and he'd get a lot of profit

🐾 tasuku literally had no idea why, but koko never scratched anywhere but his legs. is there some sort of magic on his legs?? if there was, it wasn't something tasuku is aware of, and he isn't sure if he wants to know what it is either.

🐾 it actually didn't hurt or anything, it just annoyed him when he needs to go somewhere else and the cat would just pounce to his direction to scratch his legs. tasuku feels bad on walking away, so all he does is stand up and wait until koko is done scratching his leg so he can finally move on.

🐾 when a scratching post was delivered to the dorm, koko has been all over it ever since. when tasuku noticed that koko never scratched on his legs anymore, it then just occurred to him that koko used his legs as a temporary scratching post. if he was being conpletely honest, he doesn't know how to feel about this.

🐾 know the meme of people making their babies choose their pokemon starter? that's what itaru did to koko, except he used the figurines of his waifus instead of pokemon plushies. he'd carry koko to the table, and the figurine koko will knock over would determine who her best girl supposedly is.

🐾 what he didn't know was that koko wouldn't knock one figurine over, but ALL FIVE OF THEM, and they all went rolling from the table and fell down to the floor. he swore that one of the figurines easily gets broken since its glasses came off at some point, and until that moment his trust towards animals has never been tested so bad. gladly, none of the figurines broke so koko is not yet in itaru's hit list.

🐾 even with all the toys tenma showered her with, koko finds itaru's hair on a ponytail very entertaining. itaru doesn't really mind koko messing with his hair as long as his gaming stays uninterrupted, though he gets annoyed when koko pulls a part of his hair too hard. he also somehow gets pissed whenever his hairtie falls off during a crucial moment, but he doesn't have the heart to get mad at koko so he lets her off the hook for so many times.

🐾 if omi is already such a mom to mankai, he is even more of a mom to koko. there is a sack of cat kibbles stored away for weeks, but it still remains untouched up to this day because omi always whip up homemade meals for her.

🐾 there was a time when omi cooked up turkey, mashed potatoes and corn for koko's dinner, but he didn't prepare anything for the actual human beings in mankai. omi was just like, "oh haha, there is leftover curry in the fridge. we probably should finish that first"

🐾 in other words, koko isn't subjected to curry hell. never. cats actually aren't supposed to eat curry or else something would happen. even if cats were allowed to eat curry though, it is highly doubtful that omi will make koko eat curry on a daily basis. if omi is an actual mom, everyone would collectively agree that the favorite child is koko. no buts, no questions asked, that's it.

🐾 it was a given that cats don't like water, so everyone was really surprised when they learned that koko LOVES water. the first time they learned it was when sakuya went to wash the dishes like usual, only for koko to literally pounce by the sink. she waits for sakuya to turn on the faucet and everytime sakuya does, she just sticks her paw out to the water until he turns it off. it was an adorable sight.

🐾 it definitely made sakuya slower on washing the dishes, but he does not really mind one bit, he actually enjoys the company. he opted to use a bit more dishwashing soap after he noticed that koko also liked to play with the excessive foam and bubbles on the sink whenever he finishes doing the dishes.

🐾 everyone in mankai, especially sakuya, already made it a habit to call out to koko whenever they're about to do the dishes so koko wouldn't have to wait for the sound of the faucet before running to the sink. it already is a routine every after mealtime.

🐾 was it already mentioned that koko likes water? yes. whenever the boys get in the bath, koko also joins in the damn tub and REFUSES to leave. after some time, the boys already accepted it and just let the cat stay in the tub, losing their sense of privacy in the process. they also bought little rubber duckies and those bubble bath products so koko can play around with the excessive amount of bubbles and the rubber duckies in the tub.

🐾 there was one time when omi woke up super early to prepare breakfast, though he went to the bathroom first and nearly shit on his pants when he saw koko in the empty tub. no koko, he isn't going to fill the tub with water if you just stay there. get out of there and sleep in your own damn bed.

🐾 koko also follows anyone who is on their way to the bathroom, ALWAYS assuming that they'll fill up the tub every time they do get in the bathroom. sorry to break this to you koko, but taichi wouldn't get in the bathroom 8 times a day to take a bath every single time, he just really wants to pee... please give him a break

🐾 koko always joins tsumugi when he is in the garden, though it was only because she wants to drink on the water coming out of tsumugi's watering can. when there are water droplets on the leaves, she climbs up and licks them off. unfortunately, it is one of the reasons why tsumugi started to yell on a daily basis, "KOKO NO THAT PLANT IS POISONOUS DON'T LICK THAT—"

🐾 tsumugi wouldn't have to warn koko forever though, since she'd eventually memorize what plants are poisonous and what are not. sometimes, after tsumugi is done watering the plants, he'd fill the watering can with water again just so koko would get in the can and chill for who knows how long.

🐾 koko is attached to muku for obvious reasons (he picked her up when she was injured!!) so koko is often in their shared room with kazunari. sadly, there was a time when muku took a break from reading the shoujo manga to grab some water, and when he got back, koko was already tearing it into pieces.

🐾 muku did not get angry at koko, but the cat knew something was wrong when muku was trying to stop himself from crying that koko already knew not to tear any of muku's books in the future. koko still felt really bad about it even after muku bought a new copy of that specific volume.

🐾 whenever kazunari is rushing an art project that is to be passed the next day, muku holds koko close to him so koko wouldn't be able to somehow ruin the painting. there has already been an instance wherein koko stepped all over the painting when muku and kazunari wasn't in the room, and that better not happen ever again.

🐾 gladly, kazunari was calm about it and found a way to fix the blue pawprints all over the white paint, but only god knows what will happen once koko messes up the painting again when kazunari is getting SO close to breaking down because of the deadline.

🐾 there are times when kazunari prefers to eat bread with charcoal and drink his paint water than having koko step all over his artwork, and muku better make sure kazunari does none of that

🐾 banri is unfortunately one of those people who pretends to be a dick around their pets. more often than he would admit, he'd act like he is about to throw a punch to koko, only to actually give it gentle pats on the head. banri throwing the cat mid-air and catching her is already a common sight, too.

🐾 he finds it funny scaring koko in all sorts of ways, especially when it comes to heights. banri would carry koko up high, and pretend to drop her just to catch the cat again. sakyo has reprimanded him a lot of times regarding this situation, but he brushes it off.

🐾 there was one time however when banri just carries koko up high and stays that way. the cat was literally scared shitless of being high up on mid-air unmoving, she literally had no choice but to piss right on banri's face. ever since that time, banri toned down his tendencies of teasing the cat

🐾 koko ALWAYS sleeps with hisoka. it doesn't matter where, will it on top of the sink? on the tree? below the table of the living room? you name it, and you see koko and hisoka stuck to each other like glue. somehow it feels like koko became a replacement of penpen. the poor stuffed toy probably got messed up by the cat, waiting to finally get fixed in yuki's room

🐾 koko got hisoka's habit of sleeping literally everywhere that it became really concerning. there was a time when tsuzuru noticed that koko was nowhere to be found, and everyone went batshit looking at her all over the city. even sakyo got mad at everyone because they weren't keeping an eye out of the cat while everybody else is gone. after how many hours of searching, turns out the cat was just sleeping inside the fucking washing machine

🐾 funny enough, taichi and koko have the SAME eyes. like, actual striking blue. taichi usually carries her and parades around the dorm, announcing the news to everyone even though he has said it for like the 83rd time that day. nobody really minds though, the coincidence is still too unreal. the quote "like pet, like owner" doesn't really apply to koko and taichi though, because if anything, it feels more like comparing a cat to a puppy

🐾 taichi is also the one who plays with koko the most, which solely meant that he also used the cat toys tenma bought as much as the cat herself did. at this point, it wouldn't be wrong if they said that the toys were bought for BOTH koko and taichi because even taichi sometimes finds entertainment in using the teaser by himself whenever the cat is being held by somebody else.

🐾 as much as yuki refuses to admit it, he actually gets concerned when koko climbs up in all sorts of countertops, because that would mean koko would also NOT hesitate to climb up to his sewing machine. he is already meticulous when it comes to his materials for sewing, but even moreso now.

🐾 every after yuki finishes sewing, he tightly encloses the sewing machine with a case so that the cat wouldn't get to touch it and potentially get hurt. yuki also used to just leave his sewing materials on the desk, but nowadays he actually keeps them into somewhere secure so as to not harm anybody. he can't have koko's paws bleeding just because of some damn pin that rolled on the floor

🐾 yuki also somehow feels bad when he drives the cat away from him by force every time he is working on the costumes for the next play. he doesn't know what the cat is thinking, but he hopes that koko knows he is just trying not to actually make her bleed over some needles. as a repayment, yuki lets koko bother him all she wants whenever he does his homework with muku.

🐾 since masumi always used to be alone at home, he always thought of the possibility of adopting a pet cat that would keep him company. that constant thought he had already dissipated when he started living in the mankai dorm, so when they decided to take koko in, he remembered the specific reasons why he wanted to own a cat.

🐾 he never let anyone willingly in his personal bubble except for the cat, which he accepted pretty easily. masumi also found it kind of amusing to blast songs on shuffle from his phone because koko had her own way of showing if she likes the song or not. if she likes it, she doesn't do anything. if koko doesn't, she taps her paw on his phone a lot of times as if telling him to change the song. most of the time, masumi obliges.

🐾 every time tsuzuru opens the fridge really late at night, he has to double check if koko is inside the fridge or not before he closes it. there was one time when he didn't notice koko get in the fridge while getting energy drinks. the cat pretty much stayed in there for hours and hours until omi opened the fridge to make breakfast. tsuzuru was lectured by sakyo that morning because he would be ultimately responsible if the cat died in the fridge from freezing her ass off

🐾 whenever tsuzuru gets in a writing frenzy, koko keeps him company late at night. unfortunately for tsuzuru, if he stops typing for at least 10 seconds, koko takes that as a sign to pounce on his keyboard and just lay down there. tsuzuru already knew better than to carry her away from his keyboard since the cat will be insistent enough to return to his keyboard, so he usually gives up and goes to bed, saving the ideas in his head for the next time he wakes up.

🐾 because of that, every time tsuzuru finishes a script for the next play, his tendencies of passing out right after handing the script to somebody else significantly lessens. tsuzuru doesn't know if the cat is just trying to be annoying or if she just wants him to get some sleep, but either way he doesn't really mind because he gets to stop himself from overworking. well sorta

🐾 juza almost never approaches koko. like never. it feels like he is openly avoiding the cat for some apparent reason, and nobody knows why, but in reality he is just scared as shit of the damn cat. what if koko gets mad at him? what if she suddenly gets aggressive and scratches him? honey you're way bigger than her, and koko wouldn't hurt you... really it's okay

🐾 juza's way of offering affection to the cat is to give her some portions of his meal during dinner, sometimes breakfast. he tries to be sneaky about it, but he legitimately has no idea that everyone knows. it becomes more obvious when koko already made it a habit to sit on the chair behind juza every meal time to get more food. that still happens even after omi just filled up her fucking bowl. nobody comments about it though, they find it hilarious

🐾 koko always tries to test homare's patience, but for some reason homare literally doesn't give a single fuck. every time he is writing something down, high chances are koko would spread the ink all over his paper. sometimes she'd try to crawl her way in his coat sleeve, and homare, he just....... doesn't mind.

🐾 if homare is actually busy however, he'd take out his necktie from his vest if koko doesn't want to leave his lap. most of the time, she actually plays with it like it's a teaser. homare is fine if the necktie gets destroyed, he has a lot of neckties in his closet and some of them are specifically for the purpose of koko messing with them

🐾 not to mention that he also finds it really amusing that koko gets overly excited when it comes to lasers. homare is curious why this would be the case, so he usually uses the laser to play with koko when he has free time. he doesn't think of where he points the laser though, so his wooden desk ends up having a lot of scratches. again, he knows and he doesn't care in the slightest.

🐾 misumi adores koko so much. her ears are triangles, her paws are triangle, her nose is triangle. she is a fucking triangle. with the help of kazunari, he already has a whole album of koko's best pictures in polaroid films. most of them are in a photo book so that everyone has a physical copy to look at, while some of them are taped on misumi's wall. the ones on misumi's room are particularly the ones where her ears are especially prominent.

🐾 at least twice or thrice a week, misumi brings koko out of the dorm and brings her to other groups of stray cats that misumi deems trustworthy. nothing bad happens to koko gladly, because only god knows what would happen once misumi's instincts tell him something horrible is about to happen to their pet cat, and they're always spot on

🐾 citron has ZERO sense of personal space when it comes to koko. citron would literally touch koko anywhere, thinking she is fine with it. unfortunately, there are times when citron pets koko on parts she doesn't want to be touched, particularly the tail and the area around it. citron's hands always end up covered in scratches. over time, he memorized where he should and shouldn't touch like the back of his hand

🐾 citron made a koko jr. which was completely intended to be for display purposes. the cat saw it as a new mouse toy however, so it didn't take a whole day for koko jr. to look like a ball of messed up wool. it doesn't look like a damn cat anymore, though it passes as an extremely fluffy and distorted alpaca

🐾 sakyo never shows affection to the cat. no pets, no strokes, nothing. the most he does to koko is spare her a glance, and sometimes he even glares at her from a distance when sakyo gets too absorbed in his thoughts... despite that, everyone wonders why every time sakyo comes home, she gets more energetic greeting him compared to how she'd greet the rest of the boys when they come back to the dorm

🐾 azuma knows. he would sometimes stay up for late night talks with sakyo, and through their conversations that's when azuma learns how much sakyo cares. azuma often helps sakyo out on trimming koko's nails when they're getting kind of long, trying to be as careful as possible so as to not hurt her.

🐾 azuma is also amused at the fact that sakyo tries to ignore koko resting on his lap, or when he pretends not to notice the cat trying to slip in the pockets of his coat. knowing sakyo, he'll definitely complain about the white fur on his black coat later on. as funny as it is, azuma knows better than to say a word about it.

🐾 before kazunari realized it, his camera roll is pretty much filled with random pictures of koko. most of them are just derp pictures, though... kazunari captures her weird quirks, like how she likes to fall asleep with all fours spread out like a starfish, or how she constantly make noises on the door stopper if she wants to get in the room. the picture with koko's most horrified face on it was when banri threw her high up mid-air, and that is never going to get deleted.

🐾 they find everything the cat does very adorable, even though she is just drinking water from her bowl. or when her tongue gets stuck on the ice tray omi brought out from the fridge. or when she yawns and taichi sticks a finger in her mouth and she doesn't know what to do next. or when she squints her eyes at homare when he gets in a blabbering rampage. literally everything.

🐾 at some point, kazunari thought it'd be a good idea to have those cat tunnels mounted on walls so there will be more room for koko to play. he just said it out of nowhere, but everyone agreed on that idea. after a week or two, the whole dorm is basically a cat playground with a crapton of shelves, slides, and tunnels on the walls, save for the practice room, bathroom, and the bedrooms.

🐾 did sakyo said that they are never, ever getting another pet after koko? yeah right, there's no way that's actually happening. high chances are they got more cats so that the cat playground they all built together will get utilized. the more, the merrier!! even though sakyo complains a lot about the expenses, they all know he isn't against the idea, though they better not tease him for it or sakyo will definitely take it back

[iceslushii]

So, I'm writing this to document what I can only assume is my sudden descent into insanity. I can't possibly be THAT bad a navigator, and yet as I write this I've been trapped in Ikea for 2 days. I haven't seen another person in the entire time I've been here. I thought it was a prank at first. Turn the place into a maze, get all the people out and see how long it takes me to get lost, then everyone has a good old laugh. Realised that wasn't the case when I tried to backtrack. Everything had changed, so I ended up lost. Instead of the exit, it was just row after row of bookcases.

So, I'm trapped in Ikea. Sounds like the setup for a bad joke. The lights went out at 10pm. Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack, that loud electrical THUNK sound and then pitch blackness. Place is full of beds though and my phone has a torch on it - but no damn signal - so I found a bed and went to sleep. Spent most of the next day trying to find my way out with no luck. Did find a restaurant serving those meatballs though, so at least I won't starve. That's probably the punchline to that joke. Anyway they were still warm and fresh, but I haven't seen anyone around who could have cooked them. Made my way back to the beds before the lights cut out again since it's too dark to search with them off.

It's 9.10am now, the lights came back on a little while ago. I'm sure I've searched the entire area around where I came in now and the exit obviously isn't here, so I'm going to pick a direction and hope for the best.

Day 3 of my magical Ikea mystery adventure. If I wasn't sure that there was something seriously weird about this place before, I am now. Walked for 3 hours in a more or less straight line (insert Ikea joke here) before I came across a ladder next to one of those huge stock shelves they have here. Climbed up to get my bearings, and it looks like this place just stretches on forever. Like that scene from the Lion King, except instead of trees and grass it was all shelves and tables and crap. I did see a person moving not too far away though, so I headed over.

Thought it was a staff member at first - it was wearing the uniform. And hell maybe it was, maybe freakish 7ft tall monsters with long arms, short legs and no faces are just the kinds of thing they want working at Super Ikea. Damn thing completely ignored me though, and with no eyes or ears I can't even be sure it knew I was there. Thought about shoving it or something to get its attention, but its hands were big enough to crush a water melon so I decided against it. It just kept moving along and eventually I lost sight of it so I decided to carry on the way I was going.

Anyway, no comfy bed for me tonight. Looks like I've entered the Improbably Hard and Pointy Table section of the store. Guess I'll have to make do with some bunched up tablecloths. Phone battery died during the day too. Didn't work anyway, but I feel like I've just lost some vital lifeline.

You ever see one of those cartoons where they're going through doors in a hallway and they just pop out of another door in the same hallway? That's how I feel right now. I've seen nothing but the same identical bookshelf for 2 days now. Just row after row after row of them. I mean, come on. I love books as much as the next guy, but this is excessive. I'm obviously still moving forwards though, I can see the signs hanging overhead passing by. Too bad none of them say "Exit".

Not sure who I was addressing that question to. Lets just say it was practice for the autobiography I'm going to write when I get out of here. I'll call it "My perfectly normal trip to a regular old Ikea".

If I ever get out o

Finally found some other people! Yeah, turns out I'm not the only poor bastard trapped in here. Lucky for me, I guess. My 6th night here, 2 of those staff things came at me in the dark. Different from the first one I saw, but still messed up. Heard them coming, they were saying that the store was closed and I had to leave the building, all nice and polite like. I'm not sure which part of that was weirder, that they don't have mouths or that they were apparently trying to kill me while they were saying it. Came at me like rabid dogs.

So, I legged it. Sprinting through ikea in the dark like a fucking madman. I saw it when I cleared another stand of those giant stock shelves, all lit up with torches and floodlights. They've built a whole town in here! Got a massive wall built out of shelves and beds and tables and whatever else. I swear to god it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Anyway I guess they saw me coming (or maybe they heard my girlish manly bellows of fear), because they had a gate open and 2 people were there waving me in. Heard the staff things slam into the gate behind me after it closed, still politely informing us all that the store was now closed. They wandered off eventually though.

They call the town Exchange, because that's whats on the sign hanging from the ceiling directly above it. Exchange and Returns. All lit up against the night using lights they've found and plugged into the power lines. And there are beds and food and people. Over 50 wonderful people with regular sized limbs and a full set of facial features. It's now my 7th night here, and the first one not spent in darkness. A full week living in Ikea. There's probably a TV show in that somewhere.

Now that I'm around other people, I'm starting to feel more normal. Maybe normal isn't the word. But after a week with only the sound of my own footsteps for company, I was becoming increasingly sure that I'd just gone nuts. That I was tied up in some padded room somewhere, banging my head against the wall. But no, I feel quite sane now, thank you very much!

Apparently there are other towns out there. Some with more people, some with less. I found that fairly mind-boggling - how can that many people go missing with no one noticing. Surely someone would have noticed that everyone who goes to ikea seems to fucking vanish. Or maybe it's not everyone. Maybe we're just the lucky ones.

The people here just call those staff monster things the Staff. Apparently they are fine during the day, minding their own business walking the aisles. As soon as those lights go out though, they go fucking bonkers. So during the day people go out to find food, water and whatever else they need. Apparently there are restaurants and shops around that randomly get restocked. No one knows how. Maybe the staff do it. Apparently they aren't very good at their jobs though because the restocking sometimes takes a while, which means the food needs to be rationed. Maybe if they weren't so busy chasing people around in the dark they'd get more done.

Anyway when night comes the staff go nuts and everyone holds up inside the walls. Apparently it's the same everywhere in this place, whatever this place is. The Ur-Ikea, from whence all other Ikeas sprang. Or maybe we're all still just in the regular ikea and this is all some fever dream brought on by mind-numbing boredom. Who knows.

Been here for 10 days now. Most of the people I asked said they stopped keeping track a long time ago and one guy, Chris, said he'd been in here for years.

Years.

[ILLEGIBLE SCRIBBLES]

Apparently there are rumours of people who do manage to get out. And of people who see the exit, only to have it vanish before their very eyes. I get the feeling not everyone believes that, but I do. Explains how we got stuck in here in the first place (sort of). And I mean, come on. Staff monsters, row after endless row of high quality Swedish furniture. I don't know why they would find a disappearing door so hard to believe in.

Anyway, I went out scavenging for food at a nearby shop with Sandra and Jerry today. Once you learn the landmarks of this place it's not so hard to navigate. The overhead signs help a lot, but there are others; not too far in the distance a huge section of those giant stock shelves has collapsed against each other and way off in the east (we all assume it's east anyway - apparently Ikea doesn't sell compasses) is some kind of tower that looks like its made of wood, reaches all the way to the ceiling. Maybe they were trying to break out through the roof. Lights up at night so there must be people there, but its apparently a few days walk (which means it must be miles away) so no one here really knows for sure. Apparently I got incredibly lucky sleeping out in the open for a week without getting ripped to bits by the staff. That's me. Lucky lucky lucky.

We found some food in the shop. Guess the staff restocked it during the night, which was nice of them. There was a telephone on the wall, so I figured I'd try it out. There was a voice on the other end, but they were just talking nonsense. Random words strung together with no real meaning. You ever see a video of someone with aphasia? Kind of sounded like that. Didn't answer me when I spoke to them anyway. Sandra says all the phones in here are the same.

Oops, asking the journal questions again!

I was thinking last night. The ceiling on this place is pretty high and as far as anyone can tell it goes on forever. Shouldn't there be some kind of weather in here? I'm sure I read about some NASA building that was so big it had its own weather patterns, with clouds and stuff. This place is definitely bigger than that, but now that I think about it I'm pretty sure I've never felt so much as a temperature change in here.

I'll add it to the Grand List of Weird Bullshit.

The staff attacked the Exchange last night. Must have been 20 or 30 of them all just asking us to leave the store calm as you like, while trying to smash the walls down with their bare hands. Apparently this happens pretty regularly, so everyone is prepared for it. Knives from the restaurants, lawn mower blades made into hatchets, a fire axe. One guy, Wasim, even made a functional crossbow. Anyway the walls have holes in them, which I hadn't noticed before, specifically so we can stab out at the staff when they attack. Took a couple of them down myself. They don't seem to bleed, which is weird, but they go down as easy as a regular person once you start sticking holes in them.

We had to haul the bodies away in the morning. Apparently the dead ones will attract more during the night, so we had to get them away from Exchange. We have a couple of those trolley things they use to move big boxes around, so we loaded them up and took them over to Pickup. Apparently people just name everything in here after whatever sign is hanging overhead.

Pickup was grisly. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of dead staff all piled up. There was no smell, which was a blessing. Apparently in addition to not bleeding, these things don't rot either. My curiosity got the better of me while we were unloading them, so I took a look at one of the more cut-up ones. They're just skin, or something that looks like skin, all the way through. No muscle, no bone, no organs. Are they even really alive in the first place? They certainly seem like they have bones when they are moving around, pounding on the walls. And I'm sure I felt more resistance than just skin when the knife went in during the night. Maybe something happens to them when they die. Just one more thing on the ever-increasing list of Weird Shit that goes on in here, I guess.

Something occurred to me, after the staff attack the other night. Every time you see a situation like this on TV or in a film, like its the end of the world or everyone is trapped on an island or whatever, once groups like ours start to form people always seem to turn on each other. Fighting for food or dominance or whatever else. That hasn't happened here. Apparently people from other towns come by from time to time, just to check in or occasionally to trade if they are short on something. But everything is always cordial. Friendly, even. Maybe its the threat of the staff, or perhaps the constant restocking of supplies in the shops means there's nothing much to fight over.

Maybe people are just better than they are generally given credit for. That's a nice thought. I think I'll go with that one.

A dozen people showed up at the gates this afternoon from a town called Trolleys. Apparently the staff broke through the walls and tore the town apart during the night. These 12 are the only survivors out of over a hundred. We let them in, obviously. One more point in the human decency column. Later, I asked if anyone knew how many of these towns there were out there. Between us and the new folks, we managed to come up with over 20 names. 20 towns filled with people, and who knows how many beyond that.

The motto for this place should be "How Is That Even Possible". Surely someone, somewhere must be looking for the thousands of people that must be in here.

I've been here for a little over 2 months now. Not that much changes, as it turns out. A couple of new people showed up, same story as the rest of us. Nice little trip to Ikea and suddenly they're trapped in Billy Bookcase's House of Faceless Weirdos. The staff attack the Exchange once or twice a week. We kill them and haul their bodies off, sometimes they hurt some of us first. They killed a guy called Jared a couple of weeks back. It was awful, frankly. Turns out regular humans still bleed in here, even if the staff don't. We tried our best, but none of us are doctors.

Jared was a good guy. He deserved better. We all do.

It occurred to me a couple of days after that, none of us were really looking for a way out of here. I don't even know where we'd start.

One of those quad copter things with a camera attached buzzed passed Exchange today. I thought it meant that someone was finally looking for us, that help was on the way. Apparently it's not the first time this has happened, though. Same thing happened a few months ago, and everyone is still here.

No idea if it saw us, it didn't stop if it did. Just kept flying until we could no longer see it.

Note: Based on recovery time of the journal, this entry appears to line up approximately with our first successful test piloting a drone inside SCP-3008-1. Analysis of footage shows a walled settlement under a sign labelled "Exchange and Returns". Attempts to relocate the settlement failed. Origin of previously sighted drones is unknown.

I started talking to people about the stuff they miss from home during dinner today. Probably not the best idea I've ever had, everyone seemed pretty down after. A bunch of people here have families. Husbands and wives, kids. Dogs. Franklin apparently has a pet llama, though I'm not sure I buy that.

But apparently some of the people here have some seriously odd gaps in their knowledge. 3 of them had never heard of the International Space Station, 2 of them seemed to think █████ ███████ was the Prime Minister, and one of them had apparently never heard of the Statue of Liberty. I believe them, too. They seemed just as confused as the rest of us.

The more I thought about it though, the more it started to explain a few things. What if the reason no one is looking for all us missing people is because we haven't all come from the same place. This is going to sound weird (maybe that should be the motto for this place) but what if all the people here have come from different dimensions? Realities? Whatever you call it. I've seen enough TV shows to know the drill. Sarah comes from a place where there is no Statue of Liberty. They didn't launch a space station where Wasim is from. If everyone here came from different places, even from ones that seem identical, there'd be no huge missing persons panic. No mass search. We'd just be a blip, a single missing person in a world of non-stop news.

Well. That was a fun train of thought.

Just realised that yesterday was the six month anniversary of my arrival here. I wonder if Ikea sells party hats. The routine around here has remained more or less the same. More new folk show up, one every couple of weeks or so. Food supplies go up and down, but we've never actually had a major shortage. Occasionally we get a visitor from one of the nearby towns, usually Checkouts or Aisle 630. We check in with each other from time to time, occasionally trade supplies if someone gets particularly low on something. It's comforting, in a way. A reminder that we aren't alone in here, some small glimmer of civilisation. Sometimes they bring medical supplies. Apparently there's a pharmacy a few towns down from Checkouts that gets restocked every now and then, so they share out what they can. I've never heard of an Ikea with a pharmacy before but at this point I wouldn't be surprised if someone stumbled on an Ikea Organ Harvesting Lab. Would certainly explain the staff.

Speaking of our faceless jailers, their attacks have been getting worse lately. 3 or 4 times a week now, with twice as many staff as there used to be. No idea where they all come from, or why the attacks have increased. We tried following one of them during the day a few weeks ago, me and Sarah. Wanted to see if they lead back to a staff room or something. Didn't seem to go anywhere though, just randomly walked through the aisles. We had to turn back before we found anything.

We've been reinforcing the walls, trying to arm ourselves better. Certainly no lack of materials to use. Wasim has been making more crossbows, but it's pretty slow going.

Too bad Ikea doesn't sell guns.

Note: No new personnel have entered SCP-3008 at Site-██ in the time span indicated in this entry.

The attacks are getting bad now. Almost every night, and with so many staff that the bodies almost pile high enough for others to climb the walls. I think we're in real trouble here.

Exchange is

I think Exchange is done. We got hit pretty bad last night. Not many casualties, but the wall is wrecked. We finally figured out why the attacks had been escalating, too. A box of supplies had a chunk of one of the staff in there. No idea how it happened but apparently a piece of one will draw them as well as a full body. Too late now in any case, there's too many bodies for us to haul away and still have time to fix the wall before night. Candace has called a meeting. I suspect there will be talk of abandoning Exchange, maybe try and get shelter at Checkouts or something.

It's already getting late though. I don't think we'll have time to make it. Maybe some of us will. I was fine for that first week out in the dark, after all. But then, how often can I keep getting lucky.

I'm only writing this for a sense of closure, I guess. For me, or for anyone who finds this. If this is the final entry here, I hope whoever is reading this is doing so from outside of this place.

My biggest fear? If I do die tonight, I'll just wake up here again in the morning.

Note: This is the last entry. It is assumed that while attempting to reach the "Checkouts" settlement he was separated from the rest of his group by a pursuing SCP-3008-2 instance and happened upon the exit.

We're no strangers to love You know the rules and so do I A full commitment's what I'm thinking of You wouldn't get this from any other guy I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling Gotta make you understand Never gonna give you up Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you We've known each other for so long Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it Inside we both know what's been going on We know the game and we're gonna play it And if you ask me how I'm feeling Don't tell me you're too blind to see

Never gonna give you up Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Never gonna give you up Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Never gonna give, never gonna give (Give you up) We've known each other for so long Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it Inside we both know what's been going on We know the game and we're gonna play it I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling Gotta make you understand Never gonna give you up Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Never gonna give you up Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you Never gonna give you up Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye

[aurorawest]

can you also do a director's commentary on "Fool for You"? 🐠 this is one of my favs 🥰

Yeah! Thank you for asking about this one! Since it’s over 6k words I’ll just grab the interesting parts, I hope that’s okay! Link on AO3.

First of all, I will just say, I was shocked by the response to this fic. I wrote it for Froststrange Week earlier this year, and it was by far the fluffiest fic I wrote for that event. It’s one of the fluffiest things I’ve written ever. I was actually nervous to post it...and I’ve written some very dark stuff that didn’t even give me pause before hitting the post button on AO3, haha. But this one? I distinctly remember my palms getting sweaty (gross) and having to walk away from my computer after I posted it, because I was so freaked out. But people liked it! It was probably my most popular Froststrange Week fic.

Onto the fic...

Loki craned his head, staring upwards as the massive shark moved smoothly and silently through the water overhead. He’d never seen anything like it, despite his one thousand and sixty years in the universe. It moved off, disappearing over rocks dappled with slow, turquoise sunlight.

“It’s a whale shark,” Stephen informed him, staring down at an informational plaque posted along the walkway. Loki had read all of them so far, but he’d stopped dead in his tracks in the glass tunnel when he’d seen the shark, too awed by it to move. Ahead of them and behind them, the screams and excited voices of school groups echoed, but the two of them were in a lull between throngs.

The prompts for the day that I used were ‘firsts’ and ‘aquarium date.’ The aquarium part was a no brainer for me, because I head canon that Loki is a big nature lover, and that he particularly loves the ocean.

Rays sailed through the water alongside the shark. Those, Loki was more familiar with. They’d had them on Asgard. Extinct now, of course. All of Asgard’s species, all its plants, animals, insects, all of it, were extinct. It was a depressing thought.

Okay, well, this is a fluffy fic, but obviously I’m incapable of writing pure fluff. It’s Loki, so there has to be some angst.

Always prone to depressing thoughts, Loki was. He looked at the whale shark again, then at Stephen, leaning over the plaque and reading it—mostly for Loki’s benefit, so the two of them could talk about it. That made Loki’s heart swell. His sadness would always be with him, but his happiness sat next to it, bright and blinding. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, Guardian of the New York Sanctum, human sorcerer and ridiculously, heart-poundingly beautiful man, was responsible for much of it.

Loki is really, really in love. And he can finally be free about admitting it.

Turning around, Stephen met Loki’s eyes and said, “So, the Georgia Aquarium was a good choice?”

In preparation to write this fic, I googled what the world’s best aquariums were. I knew the Georgia Aquarium was a big deal (both from living in north Florida for a time and just...being a person who likes zoos and aquariums), but I wanted to see if there were others. Obviously, Stephen can go anywhere, so for their first date, he would take Loki to the best of the best. The Georgia Aquarium does consistently appear at the very top of aquarium lists (others were Monterey Bay and one in...Dubai, I think?).

I spent a lot of time on the Georgia Aquarium’s website. It’s a huge place and has lots of different aquariums, so I had to choose the one they would spend most of their time at. The website has webcams on a lot of the aquariums, so I actually watched them while I was writing.

[...] This place made one want to learn about Earth’s oceans, which might make them less prone to destroying them. Since he’d taken up permanent residence on Earth, Loki had learned to love it—and he’d grown increasingly aware that humanity was rather short-sighted about the planet they lived on.

Loki the environmentalist.

Then again, somehow he doubted that if Hela had been better educated about Asgard’s mollusk population, she would have decided not to take over and kill everyone.

This line always makes me laugh.

[...] “Good,” Stephen said. “I figured you’d like it. But, you know. First date and everything. I wanted to get it right.”

The squirming in Loki’s stomach turned to a full explosion of butterflies. First date. Could two people have a first date when they’d already exchanged avowals of love? Hadn’t that been the first date? Or perhaps their first date had been years ago, without either of them quite knowing it?

It’s always a balance for me to write these fics that take place in the ‘future,’ as compared to where I am in the chronological writing of this verse. I just finished fic #6 in my series, which takes place in 2027. This fic takes place in 2030. The avowals of love Loki refers to hear is from the end of the last fic in the series, ‘The General Mess and Imprecision of Feeling,’ and is when the two of the officially get together. They unknowingly going on their first date years ago is a reference to the fact that the two of them have been doing date-like activities with each other for years, just with neither of them admitting it. One of my other fics for Froststrange Week is actually one of these instances (‘far away from here and closer to somewhere else,’ where they run into each other in Hong Kong and get drunk together). In fic #8 (which I’m working on now), they end up spending the day together in London. In fic #9, they spend a lot of Thor and Jane’s wedding together.

He craned his head up to stare at the top of the glass tunnel, 

They’re in the Ocean Voyager aquarium.

suddenly not knowing what to say, feeling as though he might make a fool of himself. A sea turtle swam by slowly, the underside of its shell gleaming like the moon. The truth was that he’d probably made a fool of himself in front of Stephen so many times that it no longer even registered to him.

Or maybe… Loki looked over at him. Stephen was watching him, a look in his eyes that made warmth spread through Loki. Maybe Stephen didn’t actually find Loki foolish. Maybe he never had.

The idea of Loki being a sentimental fool is something that pops up pretty constantly in my fics. Here, Loki is thinking of times he’s actually looked stupid in front of Stephen, real and imagined. He has the wherewithal to recognize that maybe a lot of them are imagined, and that even the real humiliations don’t make Stephen view Loki as a fool.

“How did you know I would like this?” Loki asked.

[...] “Remember the time we went to the Museum of Natural History?”

“Yes.” Loki raised an eyebrow at him. “You really played tour guide quite often, didn’t you?”

Giving Loki an amused look, Stephen said, “It seemed like the decent thing to do. I had royalty living at my house.”

[...] “Silly me,” Loki said. “I thought it might be because you had a bit of a thing for me back then.” Stephen shot him a crooked smile. It wasn’t agreement. But it certainly wasn’t denial, either.

Stephen definitely did have a thing for Loki back then. Loki had a thing for him, too. By the time Loki leaves the Sanctum, they’re in love with each other, though neither of them has quite realized it yet. Stephen realizes much sooner then Loki (surprise).

[...] If Loki was being honest, he’d been mildly terrified that he would arrive at the Sanctum and Stephen would do something—look at him in some way, speak to him in a way that was just a bit false—that Loki would know that Stephen had thought about it and decided that they’d made a terrible mistake and he was looking for a way to extricate himself from their new…relationship. Romance. Whatever it was.

This is Loki’s constant fear. It takes him a long, long time to stop worrying about it. It’s his fear with everyone, though. Boil Loki down to his bare essentials, and you get a giant heart and massive abandonment issues.

Loki snorted with laughter and then grinned at Stephen. “Your expression, honestly, Strange. I’ve seen you face far greater foes with much less fear.”

[...] Shrugging, Stephen said, “Kids. Not really my thing.”

“It’s not as though you need to bring them home.”

[...] “I enjoy the chaos that children cause.”

“You might be the only person here who’s enjoying the decibel level of that pack of kids,” Stephen said.

Loki actually really likes kids! And Stephen doesn’t at all.

Loki flashed a grin at him, thought about making a joke about having children, and then dismissed it. It would be a joke, because the last thing Loki wanted right now, possibly ever, was a child that he could pass all his hang-ups to. His own upbringing had been…a challenge. He doubted his ability to overcome it.

My main interest in the two of them ever having a child lies in exploring Loki’s issues with his own father.

[Stephen reveals his big surprise...is that he booked an aquarium sleepover] It was more than Loki didn’t know what to think. What was an aquarium sleepover? Sleeping here? They allowed people to do that? Had this cost extra money? Stephen didn’t have any money, so why would he spend extra on something like this?

You really can do aquarium sleepovers at the Georgia Aquarium! It’s actually not that expensive, but Loki knows that Stephen’s only income is a stipend from Kamar-Taj. Stephen has nothing at all left over from his pre-wizard days and he depends entirely on that stipend.

[...] The two of them continued through the aquarium, visiting each gallery in turn. Even though Loki was quite sure Stephen’s interest in all of this was limited, he never gave any indication that he was bored. He seemed, actually, entirely taken by Loki’s enthusiasm, and that was a feeling that Loki had certainly never experienced. 

I really tapped into that brand-new relationship feeling for this fic, haha.

The number of healthy romantic relationships that Loki had experienced was…pretty close to zero, so there had never been someone who had been interested both in sleeping with him and in seeing him enjoying his interests.

It actually is zero. Loki has never had a healthy romantic relationship. He’s hedging here because the romantic encounters he’s had that approach healthy count to him as relationships.

They ate dinner at the aquarium café, which was serviceable but nothing special. At least, the food was nothing special. It was the first time Loki and Stephen had eaten dinner together as a couple. Gods. Loki felt like an adolescent. He was eating a veggie burger and Stephen was eating chicken tenders, with drinks they’d filled themselves out of a fountain machine, and somehow it was the most romantic dinner he’d ever had. Stephen’s knee pressed against Loki’s under the table and he leaned forward like he couldn’t stand that the table top had put a couple feet of space between them.

In other words, Loki could have been eating just the ketchup packets that had been provided to him on his tray, and he would have been happier than he’d ever been in his life.

This is one of my favorite parts of the whole fic. Anyone who’s ever been crazy about a new romantic partner has had this experience, I think.

[Stephen conjures butterflies for the kids they encountered earlier] Suddenly, thousands of blue butterflies burst from within the half-spheres, swirling in a bright blue stream across the ceiling and amongst the children, whose delighted shrieks made their teachers wilt. The butterflies flitted, azure and lapis, iridescent, bobbing on air currents, until they turned to wisps of light and disappeared.

I rarely make use of the whole butterfly thing with Stephen, primarily because I tend to associate it with another Stephen ship (which is one of my NOTPs), but...it’s nice, right? I wanted to use it. A butterfly also appears in Doctor Strange, so it’s imagery that seems to be sort of associated with him.

[left alone in the gallery for their sleepover...] Loki looked around. “Shouldn’t there be other people here?” he asked.

Stephen looked immensely satisfied with himself. “Nope. We get the whole gallery to ourselves.”

Furrowing his brow, Loki asked, “How? Did you buy all the tickets?” This seemed as though it would have been exorbitantly expensive.

Still looking enormously pleased, Stephen said, “I might have played the Sorcerer Supreme card.”

“No one knows what the Sorcerer Supreme does.”

“Okay, fine. I said I was an Avenger.”

My head canon is that Stephen is pretty disdainful of the Avengers. He definitely doesn’t want to be part of the ‘team.’ He’s a loner by nature. Definitely the guy who hated group projects, because he was the one that got stuck doing all the work. This loner quality is something that Loki and Stephen have in common.

[...] Loki buried his nose in Stephen’s hair and breathed in his scent, his shampoo that smelled like sandalwood, the cologne he had definitely put on today, cedar and faintly citrusy. Norns, he smelled good.

Loki first associates the smell of sandalwood with Stephen in Sleight of Hand (it’s right at the end of chapter 12). His cologne makes an appearance in my fic ‘Afterimage,’ which is the fifth fic in my series.

[...] Loki took the sleeping bags from Stephen and undid the ties on them, which were knotted far too tightly for Stephen to loosen.

Stephen actually being affected by his disability is always important for me to include.

[...] Loki laughed. Maybe none of the other Masters thought Stephen was funny, but Loki had always found his sense of humor addictive, sly and surprising, and perfectly suited to Loki’s own.

This is a callback to Stephen’s and Wong’s exchange in Doctor Strange:

“People used to think I was funny.” “Did they work for you?”

[...] There were other things in the bag—a change of clothes for tomorrow, toothbrushes, toothpaste, some over-the-counter medications. When Stephen went to the bathroom to change, Loki snooped more thoroughly. Razor blade, shaving cream, nail clippers, a little bottle of mouthwash, a bottle of cologne. Loki decided to pop the cap open and smell that, then tried to tell himself that the feeling that washed over him could be described in some other way than ‘a swoon.’ There was nothing in the bag that implied Stephen thought they’d be doing anything tonight but sleeping.

I really love this because it’s really not particularly above board for Loki to snoop through Stephen’s bag...but it is a very Loki thing to do. And pretty human. Especially because he’s looking for condoms and lube. Of course he is! They’re spending the night together...are they Spending The Night Together?

[...] Stephen looked at the foot of empty space separating the two sleeping bags, then glanced up at Loki. “Are you comfortable with…” he began, then trailed off, before trying again, “I mean, do you want to be…further away…?”

“Do you?” Loki asked. When Stephen hesitated, Loki took a guess about what the honest answer was, then reached out and tugged Stephen’s sleeping bag until it was right next to his.

Stephen is big on enthusiastic consent. Loki is far more willing to take his chances and guess based on body language.

Eventually, they drew apart, and Loki couldn’t help suspecting it had something to do with the way Stephen seemed to be keeping his hips pulled back just a little. Temptation. If Loki reached down…

But no. Instead, he very deliberately folded an arm under his head, resting his head on his bicep. Stephen did something that looked like it was probably a clothing or anatomy adjustment to accommodate a situation, but Loki didn’t comment. Quite honesty, he had his own situation down there, and it just felt like good manners not to say anything.

I honestly have no idea what guys would do in this situation. Just guessing based on both of their personalities. Is a first date too soon to admit, ‘Hey, you just gave me a boner?’ It feels like it is?

Neither of them spoke for a minute or two. They simply stared at each other. Then, Stephen said gently, “I know you’re worried.”

“Worried?” Loki raised an eyebrow. “What do you think I’m worried about?”

Stephen’s gaze didn’t waver. “This.” When Loki pressed his lips together, Stephen added, “You think I’m going to change my mind. Right?”

No one has ever gotten Loki the way Stephen gets him. And Stephen is very patient, very gentle, and very like...you know when you pspspspsps and hold your hand out to a cat? That’s Stephen with Loki, haha.

[...] “The reasons are myriad, of course [for Loki’s insecurity]. I’ve made poor choices. But yes. In part, it’s because I’m…challenging. And people change their minds.”

Oh hey look, it’s the author projecting.

[...] But Loki was greedy. He didn’t want to say in a few months, or a few years, This was great while it lasted. 

There’s something kind of sad to me about the idea that Loki can’t even view his love for Stephen as an entirely good thing. He’s a sentimental fool, he’s overly romantic, he’s greedy. And if I wanted to go this route, I could easily make Loki very co-dependent in this relationship; it would be easy to turn it really unhealthy. But I don’t want to, haha. It makes sense that Loki would feel like he has to gorge himself on Stephen’s adoration of him, because he’s never really had this before, not from someone he wants to be with (other people have loved him, but he hasn’t loved them back).

He would already have to give it up too soon, because he would outlive Stephen by such a long time. And he already knew there would never be anyone else.

There isn’t. Stephen will die, and Loki won’t ever be with anyone else. Luckily for him, he gets Stephen back eventually.

Stephen leaned forward and kissed Loki softly; the most tender, most heartfelt kiss Loki had ever experienced. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his lips warm against Loki’s.

It was difficult not to deepen the kiss, difficult not to kiss Stephen harder. He’d never needed anything to be true as much as he needed this to be true, or at least it felt like it. Don’t worry. But Loki always worried. All the good things in his life still felt so fragile, as though they could implode at any moment.

Though—he supposed he was getting better at not actively sabotaging them himself.

This is part of Loki’s arc in my fic. Stephen and he aren’t together until Loki heals in a lot of other ways. One of them is not trying to blow things up so he can control their destruction.

Thank you so much for asking!! Sorry for the delay in responding.

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut