#it would basically be a one shot about their rise into darkness but mostly told in a sort of....

[theskeletoninthegarden]

More about my original character, don't mind me. But they have the words inscribed on the One Ring on the back of their neck.

They got it as a teenager, for shits and giggles. Upon entering Arda, Gandalf had to sear the tattoo from their neck, but a connection remains. It gives them nightmares, rather frequently, and maybe, just maybe, it means Sauron can reach through it to them, influencing them in the process.

They have a corruption arc I may or may not get into about them basically wanting to tear down and destroy Eru, because they've got some mad beef with the guy over choosing such a roundabout way of helping save the lives of Middle Earth, and etc, etc, and Sauron! He takes advantage of those feelings, which later warp into hate for what has been done to their brother, and emboldens them into rage.

So you've got this Maiar running around, a child of the stars, chosen by Eru "himself", that is given a bit of a level up by Sauron and those glimmering eyes of basically become beacons of death. They've already been named the White Wraith by Orc-kind since they can make their ears bleed and drive them into madness using their Gibson (their brother's soul, basically), but also they know it has the same effect on Elves. They're a damn screaming banshee of a creature, trying to tear out the throat of "god" with their bare teeth, and I think that could be neat to write about.

Man, so easily corrupted. Ain't that the truth.

[alatariel-gildaen]

For the WIP ask game, please tell me about relic.

Hey! Thanks for the ask :)

Oh glob, this one is depressing. I really hope to finish it some day, but whenever I open it, i re-read what I've done, bits of it make me cry, and i just can't bring myself to do more

It's a Jonathan Strange /Arabella fic, and is mostly set after the end of the book (although there are a couple of canon events in there too) and it's basically a sort of soulmates type fic.

In it, Strange & Norrell finally escape the tower of darkness but a hundred years have passed, and Arabella is dead. Strange is sent to war to fight in the trenches in WW1, and while injured he falls in love with his nurse, who he suspects is Arabella reincarnated.

There is more tragedy, he can't be with her, so he decides to return to Faerie, and comme back in future, to find her again. Which he does, but it's modern times, he's entirely out of place, and feels like a relic. And there's more tragedy, and I just can't write it.

it's a one-shot currently sitting at about 10,000 words, and it's probably only about a third done, so when it'll get finished I have no idea!

I'll leave you with a little snippet under the cut, of when Strange returns to his estate, which is now owned by his grand-nephew.

"Your wife sold Ashfair to my Grandfather. Of course, she still lived there from time to time, but she wanted to ensure it would stay in the family after she had passed, and with no heir to pass it on to..."

"She was a clever woman," said Strange quietly. He was lost in memory, his private grief which he had for so long repressed rearing its head at last. He stared at the letter in his trembling hands until the familiar handwriting had become entirely obscured by a sheen of tears.

"Of course, Ashfair is open to you, until you are able to find a new home."

"Thank you, Henry," said Strange, still gazing at the letter. "I should like to be alone for a while, I believe."

Strange watched his grand-nephew depart, and sat by the fireside. Almost overcome with anxiety, he prised open the wax seal on the envelope, and began to read.

My dearest Jonathan,

I write this in the hope that it will, one day, reach you. I write this as a way of saying goodbye.

I confess, Jonathan, that I did not do entirely as you asked. Do you remember your last words to me? When you told me to be happy, and to not be a widow? Well my love, I can promise you that I have been happy. I can promise you that I never did wear black. But I had always wondered if your request held a deeper meaning. That, perhaps, you were giving your permission, even your blessing, for me to remarry. I never did.

My soul belongs to you, my love, and it always will. I had always hoped that I would find you again in this life. But no matter. I shall be with you again in the next.

So, if I did not remarry, what did I do?

I saw the world, Jonathan, and it is a wonderful place! (And I am once again eternally grateful that you left me in the company of the delightful Miss Greysteel — later to become Mrs Hollingsworth — a lady who is as much enamoured of travel as I became.) I stood on the shores of every destination in Europe and watched the sea lap at our feet. I roamed through the glorious lavender fields in Provence, I ate peaches from a tree in Barcelona, I watched the horses race Il Palio in Siena and I even crossed the oceans and watched the sun rise over the new world in America. (I can well imagine you telling me that you went to America first, but I would like to remind you, dearest Jonathan, that while you may have been breathing American air, you were still stood on Belgian soil, which I do not think counts!)

I should dearly have loved to have seen all these delights with you, and I tell you of my adventures, not to make you sad, or to make you envious, but to assure you that I have tried my very hardest to follow your wishes.

I remember so much of you, my dearest Jonathan. I remember so clearly your profile as you studied by candlelight. So many times I sketched you, while you were oblivious, and I would joke that I could do it without you present. The truth is I have tried, but I am somehow unable to capture your expression. It turns out that I do need you, and your exasperation over the most trivial of things, to properly do your portraits justice.

But more than that, I remember you. I can recall with perfect clarity the passion with which you spoke, your splendid humour and faultless wit, and the gentleness you reserved solely for me. I shall always remember your bravery, in every single deed you performed, and the sacrifice you made for me.

Remember me, my husband. But as you once asked of me, do not wear black. Do not be a widower. I wish for your happiness, just as you wished for mine.

Your ever-loving wife,

Arabella.

[daegulinekush]

The death of peace of mind

~ A Kim Taehyung fanfiction

Chapter one: ★ I hope my last breath is a sigh of relief ★

Contains: underage smoking, smoking, reference to past events (will be discovered later), reference to (lack of) mental health, drinking, some nakedness (?), drunk OC, Balkan culture insert, some cursing, Jimin can be a meanie T-T

(please tell me if I forgot anything)

The multicolored lights are swirling around the otherwise dark room, landing on different bodies and different clothes, sparks of green, red and blue all around. It’s a typical Friday night, to put it like that. It isn’t the first time me, Jimin and Taehyung get out at questionable hours, when the Moon has already rised high in the sky and the street lamps along with the ones of the closed shops make everything somehow seem even more magical.

It’s the way we’ve always gone through life, in a way, taking everything in strides, solving things as they come and making the best out of them.

Finals have been a pain this year and even more, the exam for getting into University have got us with anxiety brimming over the roof. The tension taking over all of our bodies and minds is something we must relieve as fast as possible, the creases in the foreheads and the bags under the eyes along with sparkles dimming along with the informational dump we did on ourselves and lost nights of sleep make us look somewhat older.

Maybe it’s normal to look older, considering the new phase of life we’re all entering together. It’s a huge luck, in all honesty, that all three of us are the same age. Universe truly couldn’t have us be separated, it seems like.

It makes sense. I don’t know what I would have done without any of those two, but even more without Taehyung. After all, not losing my sanity entirely during those last four years and even the four before those have been mostly his doing, even as we have been more separated than together in the first part of our lives.

The music or, better said, the bass of it shakes my whole heart and guides my body to the rhythm. It’s quite hypnotizing and as always, I know most of this night will be a blur of feelings and laughter. I’m not limiting myself anymore tonight, safely kept under the eyes of the two men I trust most in my life.

The music already makes adrenaline thrum through my veins, along with the pre-drinking game me and Jimin had before going out, each drowning a few shots of soju. I wasn’t such a fan of it, it never truly rubbed on me, the drink itself, as I’m more of the sweet alcohol kind of enjoyer, but I could never refuse a shot - especially when I genuinely felt the need to stop my mind from working after it raced constantly for a too extended period of time. Even less could I refuse when he swore up and down this one is sweeter than the usual one, as he decided to entertain me with the mix of soju and sakura blossoms with a bit of cherry. It did feel less like I was drinking straight up sanitary alcohol, the supposed burn on the throat not a problem, but still not a favorite of mine.

Getting over the alcohol problem and how different mine and Jimin’s tastes are for it, what I do vaguely remember and will probably not forget for quite a few days is me trying desperately to fix my eyeliner - a feat in itself with my obvious white genes and hooded eyes - already wearing a crop top tight on my skin, so tiny it basically almost made my chest spill from it with black bra and all, along with some too ripped jeans to be for anything else than partying. The heavy boots I was wearing had thick platforms and helped me gain around an inch, but those boys always seem to forget I am much shorter than them expect for the occasions they find to tease me about it - with Jimin as main bully. So yes, I do remember very clearly the coldness of the sink when they a bit too enthusiastically and hurriedly told me to move faster while basically squishing me and forcing the edge of the cold sink to almost dig into my exposed abdomen, just as well as I remember the space being too tiny, Jimin’s front of the jeans brushing unintentionally over my ass and the way I snapped at them to get out before I strangle someone.

That being said, I obviously don’t remember how we got there, in this club - is that really a club or just a basement someone tried so hard to make a club out of?

It doesn’t truly matter either. We’re here to dance and get drunk however you take it.

Jimin is lost somewhere in the crowd as I remain close to Tae - or he sticks to my side, I can’t even be sure of which one is the case with how oftenly we are together - and I spot him easily with my gaze, a few meters away, lights shining on him as they always do, his head thrown back as his hair slick with sweat makes him look even better, his already large and exposing sleeveless shirt somehow pooled (wrapped?) around his hips as my cheeky friend enjoys the swirl of women around him, one with dirty blonde hair, letting the slight yellow-brownish liquid of what seems like beer with the foam it makes slowly glide over his chiseled chest and between the lines of his abdomen as he dares chuckle and even pull his pants the tiniest bit lower with his fingers wrapped around his buckle.

Shameless, more than usual, and I can only blame it on the stress he’s wnet through, maybe even more than us, with his constant need of being the best in what he does and being his parents’ proudness. It always makes me wonder who’s the worse influence: me, with my crazy ideas steemed out of endless balkan normal activities deemed as bad ideas and good memories, as I have grown in an entirely different culture, or him, with his impossible tolerance to alcohol and the way he loses himself when it comes to a party he feels comfortable during?

I rip my eyes from the way both sweat and alcohol drip from Jimin’s skin in favor of seeing my childhood bestfriend - Taehyung - with his green tips and slightly long hair, bangs falling onto his forehead, his black leather jacket barely hanging onto one of his shoulders, the wideness of them making him look more masculine with every new year passing. He’s tall, way taller than me, in the way I can’t even reach his shoulder without wearing heels. This time, I barely brush them, as he’s decided to wear sneakers. He looks as good as always, with the way one of the corners of his lips curl upwards in what seems like a smirk at first, but I know better, as his dark eyes sparkle slightly and his big hand reaches for mine slowly. It’s easy to give in when it comes to him, it’s always been easy and I’ve always adored giving into the moments of slight goofiness as he grips my hand in such a gentle way, always gentle and warm, just like him, his fingertips merely pinching mine as he makes me twirl and then pulls me closer with his other arm be wrapping it around my lower back in a way that lets me feel the coldness of the leather barely brushing my skin, but never actually touching it properly nor pressing.

Blurs like this one are something I live for. The simple feeling of losing yourself in a crowd, in happiness, while also knowing that whatever will happen I don’t have to worry about anything around me and I can just soak in those feelings. Somehow, it feels like time is endless and so am I with it.

It’s not the first time I feel like this, like me and him are the only ones mattering and existing in this world. On the contrary, it’s became more and more common since we started living under the same roof four years ago. It’s maybe the way he smiles at me, the way his lips twitch first and his eyes crinkle at the corners just for his teeth to entirely be showed in a boxy smile that makes his cheeks look even fuller, just warmth emanating from every pore of him. Maybe it’s the way he has to bend down so much to be at almost the same level with me, yet it never seems to bother him, how time has put so many centimeters between our bodies. Maybe it’s simply the way we sway together and as the song changes, air becomes electrified and we dance more and more, swirl more and more with each other, always so in tune with the other’s movements. The way he gives into my way of moving too, the way he’s always been my number one support, the way he never makes fun of me for wishing to show my culture instead of inhibiting it or even try dances from other cultures I grew up surrounded by, be it from media or other ways.

Just like now, as the songs become more and more repetitive and in a burst of moment, an impulsiveness, making me go and change the song with one the majority are not used to at all, the oriental rhythm taking over my body in such a natural way, one I know since little.

The song is Albanian, a definitive change to the korean r&b that was put, the trumpets strange for the ones not used to this. For me, though, they are like breathing, like dancing is for Jimin, like paint and photography are for Taehyung, and being with those two has always made me more comfortable in my skin, even in a sea of people who might scrunch their noses in disgust instead of having the openness to try different things.

It’s not any different now. Taehyung knows very well the way I move, just as I know his, the endless nights when we would dance together in the kitchen with his siblings looking at us curiously and his mother inevitably laughing and taking it all in deeply imprinted in our memories. Days when the homesickness would be too much for me, when he would do anything to pull a smile out of me, when nights of silent crying alone will never truly end alone, as if he was able to sense when the worst parts of me would swallow the best, trying to rot them.

It’s the way it became memory muscle, maybe, to bend my knees and twist my hips in synchron with his as we drop at the same time and then pull ourselves right back up. It’s the way our feet move fastly but don’t knock into each other anymore. It’s the way his long fingers intertwine with mine and I can feel his huge hand swallowing mine in it’s strengthening grip, knowing better than to let go of me for this one. It’s the way my mind can still recite in my ears the sweet thump our feet used to make on the wooden floor back home with every harsh hit specific to this dance. Or maybe it’s just the way I grip better his hand, to the point our very bones seem to want to mingle together, to make space for each other and become one as he bends himself at the waist with his jacket on one of his shoulders and makes a harsh flutter out of it, heavy and bursting so much happiness within me that I can’t help but let my head fall back and my hair tickle my shoulders as I laugh whole heartedly.

There’s no better feeling than having him by my side. Even as Jimin is his soulmate, I have never felt more complete than with my bear, my sweetest honey. He’s the very life buzzing through my veins, the most human parts of me, the brightest of lights shining through my cracks. He’s such a heavy part of me that the moment his breath will stop, I will force mine to do so too.

There’s no life without him and I am deeply convinced of that. No matter who will come into my life, into my soul, they will never have the same impact as he has on me. Not when with him, I learnt the best how to not back down, how to not waver, how proudness truly feels like. Not when he’s seen me at my very worst and has been my very backbone, when he’s someone my very heart and life has stood on the hands of for so long.

As colors and moves blur together, as my head becomes dizier and dizier, swirling around and Jimin comes back to us, the scent of all kinds of alcohol etched into his skin from his previous games, I can feel all of the stress leaving my mind and my body. Jimin is already holding a bottle of something I do not recognize in his hand, a firm grasp over the still not opened bottle, the etiquette of it entirely blurred to my eyes. Better said, I did not care enough to focus on the mark nor the contents of the new object, focused rather on the way Taehyung’s fingers fish into the back pocket of his jeans for the obvious: a pack of cigarettes.

If with Jimin I am not sure which one of us is the worse influence, with Taehyung I am sure it’s me. Sometimes, I think that maybe he wouldn’t have smoked if I wasn’t enough of a fool to let him try a cigarette and actually teach him how to drag the toxic smoke into his lungs. Maybe if I, myself, have not been foolish enough to start smoking at 14, both due to cultural things I have grown up with and the events that had taken place dragging me to my only actual addiction, maybe then he wouldn’t have smoked right now. The only contentment I am left with on this subject is the fact that he’s not smoking a lot unless under heavy stress and as such, I don’t stress much on the guilt trying to take over my mind, rather preferring to admire the way his slender fingers pull out one of the cigarettes. I have never exactly understood his reason for not keeping the filter between his pointer and middle finger, many times teasing him about how he’s making it look like he’s smoking anything but mere, legal tabbacoo from the way he hold it. Needless to say, it hasn’t changed his way of holding the flimsy tube. It is funny, though, to see how small it looks in his hands anyways. How tiny and breakable.

Without a word, I simply pull another one from his pack, Volvo, as I steal the lighter from his very same hand. I can literally feel his amused yet burning gaze on me as I inhale deeply the toxic smoke, then let it slowly leave my lips, my red lipstick sticking to the filter as I pull the cigarette from my mouth.

“What?” I kind of scream so he would hear me over the loud music. I can hear Jimin snickering by me left side, right between me and Taehyung, but I pay it no mind.

“Stop stealing my cigs. You’ve got your own” his voice is deep, deeper than the bass of the flimsy song playing now. It was a shock that my mind somehow still took sometimes, once in a while. After all, I’ve known him for so long that I am one of the few people who actually remembers very well how his voice used to sound before puberty hit him. Smoking has somehow got it even raspier, even if it’s not been long since he started.

“What’s yours is also mine” I could feel my lips splitting in a the cockiest of grins ever. “Especially when I’m the reason you could avoid mom killing you in the first place, or have you already forgotten that for her, this is /my/ pack of cigs?”

It was impossible to not tease him endlessly about it. We all knew his mom would have his head if she heard he started smoking. She’s even found his pack of cigarettes in his jacket. As his best friend, of course I warned him that if she ever is to ask about it, it’s mine. It’s also very believable and easy to get over with, as she knows I started smoking way too early and the reasons behind, just like she knows this protective bear has always got something on him to cover me with in case of cold.

Years might pass and we might change, but some things will always remain the same, which is in some way incredibly comforting. One of those things is how adorable his smile is and the way he pouts at my teasing when he realizes I’m right - like now, his lips a bit red and pushed out.

“If you’re going to smoke I’m literally gonna leave. Don’t want the stink on me” Jimin frowned. He’s scolded us already a thousand times for this and even as I know he’s right, I also frankly don’t wanna hear it. The way I entered my teenage years was already terribly messy and this is truly the easiest of ways I’ve coped with it all. In all honesty, I could have done a lot worse.

Inevitably, both me and Taehyung decide to move to a corner of the room, closer to the exit, where more people smoked, as for the ‘stink’ to get out easier, faster.

Not like that could kill the mood. No, quite the contrary, because of the quite too many people there, we ended up being even closer, bodies so close they were almost glued. It has passed some times since we’ve been quite this close physically, but it happened so naturally, the slight distance, that I haven’t remarked until now, not truly.

It made sense for the slight limits to be build, though. After all, he had a girlfriend and they had been together since the second year of highschool. She was a bit older than him, I have met her on the pass. I didn’t necessarily like her that much but it didn’t matter as she was making him happy. He’s been sparkling for quite some time and as much as she wasn’t the reason behind his sadness, I didn’t mind. I simply want him happy, appreciated to his true value.

It would be a shitty move for me to not back down a bit, even as his best friend. I am still a girl and I do understand very clearly that some things are just not to be done. We also did grow up, after all. It can’t be the same as it was before and it’s normal, but that doesn’t make it bad. We are just as close, just in different ways, after all.

Want it or not, the adrenaline and pre-game got me slightly buzzed. Feeling free after so long definitely gets one to feel different, in a good way. As I pull another smoke from the cigarette, my eyes fall on the way smoke leave’s Taehyung’s, his shoulders slightly crouched, along with his chin downwards to his chest, a strand of his hair falling over his forehead as his back slightly touches the wall behind.

The crowd is quite chaotic here and I can feel his other had on my hip, pulling me closer to him. I can feel a breath being pulled out of my lungs, the only reason I recognize it as being his hand being how used I am to him. It surprises me, gets me a bit out of balance, and my own hands are pushed in front of me to find something to grasp onto, out of possible habit clutching to his wide shoulders and putting myself back onto my own feet.

He smells of sweat and cologne, dark and yet fresh, masculine in a way that’s so comforting, so homey, cozy. If warmth had  a smell, that would be Taehyung.

The song is another than I was aware of a few minutes ago, one I know we both enjoy, and just by the slight arch of his eyebrow I can tell already what he’s trying to signal me. Silent, without any words needed because there’s no need for one.

Fondness. I truly can’t help it, can’t help the way it washes over me, the way I shake my head and roll my eyes, but I wrap my arm around his middle anyways and pull myself closer to him, by his side, our hips rolling and moving with the rhythm of the song, left and right, time passing by.

I’m not sure how the time passes. I don’t know how the songs blend together nor do I know if I’m even real as the lights and adrenaline of being finally free, even for just one night, blind my mind until the moment from a slow sway of bodies I feel the contrast of coldness creeping up my spine and warmth at the front, forced to open my eyes instead of continuing to lose myself.

It’s still him close to me, the same Taehyung, but this time his jacket is entirely off from his shoulders, sleeves wrapped around his middle. He’s more touchy than usual, even as I know he hasn’t put one drop of alcohol on his tongue, the usual of lately, but time does happen to drift people apart as things pile up. It’s been so long since we’ve had our once usually weekly night of marathons and spilling tea, talking about everything and anything that came to our minds, nights that usually ended up in us falling asleep in the same bed, cuddled together, both refusing to let go.

His eyes are like the sky itself would be in a totally isolated part of this world, away from all the artificial lights, sparkling with such force that they seem to hold entire galaxies, all the stars in the universe, while also being so dark, so focused. I’ve always loved his eyes, the expresiveness of them. I also loved the way they had always looked at me with warmth, trust, openness.

Never have I expected for them to ever feel…heavy. Dark in a way that wasn’t just because I was teasing him or pissed him with something and he was ready to scold me, but for a reason unknown to me.

Cornered. I was basically cornered and if it had been someone else, another man, my body would have gone into fight mode, I would have kicked, would have searched for a way to escape.

Yet, this was Taehyung. Taehyung, whom I trust more than I trust myself. So I wasn’t frightened nor was I worried. Panic didn’t lick up my spine, especially not as even in his moves his hands have been careful as to not have me making a painful contact with the wall, one of his arms around my back and the other behind my head. It was hard to fear someone you’ve literally slept squished under, feeling his warmth seep into your very bones and soul.

The one behind my head moved as to prop his body onto the wall, by the side of it, I could see it with the corner of my eye the place where it sprawled his long fingers over the wall, while the other I could feel slightly gripping at the part that wasn’t exposed from my hip, the high waisted jeans definitely helping in that aspect.

I wasn’t sure what happened to get to this point. Maybe it was too crowded and someone had almost knocked into me without me realizing, as it wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened, just like it wouldn’t be the first time he would pull me away to avoid such an incident.

So why did it feel heavier? Why is my whole body electrified, why is my heart beating like that? It’s hard to breath and yet it feels so good, the closeness, the way he leans more into me, the way the tips of our noses touch.

Maybe, deep within myself, I’ve missed being close to him, without limits, without worrying about his girlfriend taking it the wrong way. The way we used to be.

The tips of our noses rub together in soft affection and I can feel his hand cupping my cheek, closing my eyes to relish in the warmth of it all, more or less voluntary a smile blooming onto my lips, even as he slightly tilts my chin. He smells of tobacco and a slight tint of strawberry, even his breath is warm.

The ache I feel is for the old times, right? For how this reminds me of them, of thousand of nights spent curled up together, of the times when there was no care for what others might believe of our closeness or our friendship…right?

“We should go back to Jimin” I whisper, even as there’s heaviness on my chest, one I truly can’t explain from where it comes. “Someone might see us and think the wrong thing”

Because I truly don’t want to put his girlfriend in such a position, in the position where she wonders, where she deals with maybe rised insecurities. I don’t want to provoke her heartbreak nor get between them. As much as Taehyung is happy, so am I.

“It wouldn’t be the first time people take our friendship the wrong way” and even with all of this loud music, it feels like the noise is just that: background noise, his voice the only one mattering.

He’s right. I know he is. Many had taken our friendship for more than it is, teasing about how it can’t be true for our friendship to be just that. Just because of our sexes. Just because technically, we could be attracted to each other.

“I know” and yet, even if I know, even if it wouldn’t matter if anyone else would have thought of it as literally any point, I still searched in the crowd for Jimin. “Let’s go. Yo, Chim!” I screamed over the crowd as we moved. “I bet I can down more shots than you!”

Doom. Those words truly had been the way the night went more or less downhills. It wasn’t the first time I was trying to out-drink Jimin and it surely wouldn’t be the last, each time leaving Taehyung to take care of our asses, but it was just something about it that rose competitiveness within me everytime my God complex went a bit too far, maybe.

Shot after shot of things I can’t and won’t bother remembering, I could feel my mind buzzing more and more, the warmth and dizziness of alcohol setting in more into my bones, along with a weird slugishness.

From there, I can remember just fragments. I remember at some point dancing between Jimin and Taehyung, deciding to go home when the streets were already way too empty, for once the city almost quiet, except the cars - at least in this zone of Seoul.

We all knew it wouldn’t last much either. We had to pass some bridges, somehow deciding walking was a ‘good idea’ - it was totally not, but at least we were together in it.

Getting out of the huge mass of sweaty bodies was the first step to make - one which happened with a lot of pushes, pulls and quite blurred everything.

Once outside, with the cold air of the night hitting my face, I felt my brain slightly scrambling itself together, none of us actually so drunk we got a blackout or something - never gonna be /that/ reckless. My boots were making harsh sounds against the pavement as I slightly struggled to walk.

“Got so pretty for nothing. You promised you’d take photos of me, TaeTae, and all I got was you and Chim knocking me into the sink!” I couldn’t help but grumble, definitely not satisfied at all with the prospect of ending this night with no photo.

Maybe I was being too sensitive from the alcohol, but a promise is a promise and it bugged me. It truly bugged me, the thought that maybe he’s said it just for the hell of it or out of habit, even as I know he’d never promise me something he can’t fullfil. Maybe this is exactly why it bugged me so much.

Lucky or not, both me and Jimin had some cans of juice to drink, more empty than anything with the thirst that followed and Taehyung bugging at us to drown the juice. Jimin was more awake and more composed than me, but I didn’t feel /that/ drunk either.

I was merely hanging onto Taehyung’s arm, my own wrapped around it, in order to keep myself warm - which led to him simply putting his jacket onto me, as it usually happens.

I heard Jimin laughing, a “Yah! You forgot about your promise, Tae!” leaving his lips.

As the good friend he is, I pulled the phone from his pocket and fixed it on my empty can, moving back to at least take some decent photos after I set the timer.

With the world slightly swirling around me, I inevitably almost stepped on his poor phone - which led to yet another one of our usual bantings.

"Why my phone?! No, my phone, don't —"

Messy. This night could be any messier? 

Laughter and blurred lights and just as blurred roads and steps, our voices maybe a bit too loud for the almost silent city, along with the late (early?) hour, but it didn't matter to us.

"I didn't get to take any photos! Jimin, this is your fault!"

"How's it my fault that you broke my phone?!"

"I didn't break it!"

"You almost did!"

"Almost! I would have bought you a new one if I did!"

"You better would have! You should have!"

"Then why don't /you/ take some photos of me! Or what, am I not attractive enough to be your muse or something?" I basically anything but hissed at him.

"I'd rather fuck a rat, in all honesty"

"You little shit—"

I ended up inevitably squished between Taehyung and Jimin, Jimin's hand around my hip, his fingers firm on the skin. Unlike Taehyung, who had his arm around my shoulder and insistently pulled for some reason at his already huge jacket to cover me better — probably because of the cold of the night — and seemed keen in not touching me too much.

"So, what was that between the two of you?" Jimin broke the silence as we strutted over the bridge from one side of the road to the other.

"What do you mean?" I couldn't help but ask. With all of the stuff that happened tonight and in general with his cryptic way of words, it was hard for me to tell what Jimin was referring to.

"The way you were so close. Taehyung, you have a girl-"

"And me and ____ are just friends". His voice was more gruff than usual, seemingly tired.

"My feet hurt" I couldn't help but whine, the heels suddenly not so worth it anymore, no matter how comfy when sober.

"It didn't seem like so and I'm pretty sure someone could have taken a photo of you two in that position and—" Jimin started rambling.

Yet, Taehyung was crouching in front of me as I struggled to take off my boots, feeling the pain literally burst through my feet in harsh waves.

"You can't walk like that, _____, there could be anything on the road—"

"Then carry me!" I whined, high pitched and annoyed. "Piggyback me home" I pouted at him, flaring my arms around helplessly.

Warmth. There was warmth again in his gaze, along with a chuckle, and just a few moments after I was happily snuggled at his back, his fingers gripping close to my knees.

We used to do this a lot when we were younger, in all honesty.

Finally arriving home — mine and Taehyung's, Jimin's being close by — I was simply let to fall softly into the bed, more like slip down bit by bit like a slime until I was comfortably taking over the entirety of it.

They were talking, but I could barely register their voices anymore, already tired enough to simply fall asleep.

Do I truly need to explain the headache I felt the next day? It would be easier than explaining how by some kind of miracle Jimin's phone had got to take some good photos of me, but pretty worthless.

Hey, petals! This was the first chapter of this fic. I hope you liked it and anything regarding it is welcome and even asked! (Reblogs, tags, asks etc)

I would love to see how you felt or what impressions you have over OC/Jimin/Taehyung!

Tagging @naomihatake because I couldn't have done this without her encouraging me and also tagging @parkdatjimin because this sweet angel said she wanna see it 🥺 👉👈

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Two

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: Thanks for all of the encouragement on the first couple of parts of this 🥰💕 I hope y’all had a good week! 💖 Warnings: Cursing; some angst Summary: “Shitty liars need to practice, Pike.” 

“Alright, I’ve got a list,” You said, shrugging off your bag and setting it down beside Marcus’ couch. “A list?” Marcus repeated, coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water for you, “Of what?” “Thank you-- Things that we need to sort out before we get to Austin. Look, you’re a shitty liar, right? Your words, I’m paraphrasing,” You tacked on, reaching into your bag and pulling out your notebook and a pen.

“Uh-huh,” Marcus agreed amusedly. “Right, so  hopefully if we sort out our details now, you won’t feel so freaked when we’re down there. And you won’t be trying to cobble together facts on the fly. That would get incredibly messy— especially if we’re going to pull this off all week.” “A full week of lying to my family,” Marcus sighed, “Talk about a long con, huh?” You glanced up at him from under your lashes, amused. “God, you’re such a boy scout. And technically you’ve already lied to them, you started the second you told Marnie that you were bringing me— though that’s technically not a lie anymore. Just...Don’t think about it as lying, pretend you’re undercover or something,” You shrugged, flipping your notebook over to your list of questions. “So I’d be lying to myself about the lie? Isn’t that compounding it?” “You’re overthinking it, Agent.” “You might want to start calling me Marcus.” “Right,” You muttered, “I will...Remember to do that.” “So what’s on the list?” Your eyes darted up from your list as you watched Marcus shrug out of his suit jacket. You’d seen Pike in less-than-pristine states before, especially throughout the Coleman case. You’d seen him with his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and when you were half-tweaked on caffeine in your cramped office, it was… more than a little distracting. You leaned forward, picking up the glass and taking a pull from it before setting it down and settling back again. “Basics first,” You said, “How we met. I say we stick with ‘work’.” “That’s not a lie.” “I know, I thought you’d like that.” “I do.” “Okay. How long have we been together?” “Uh...Few months at least-- Five?” “I can handle five,” You jotted it down, “How come you haven’t mentioned me to them before?” You glanced over at Marcus, smiling a little when you saw his panicked expression. “Or have you gotten this one already?” You added. “No, I haven’t-- Work has been busy? Again, I think that would be sufficient, so-- Hang on.” You raised your brows as Marcus leaned back against his couch. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “What’s happening over there?” You asked. “We should change how long we’ve been together to...Maybe two or three months? If we’d been together for five and I hadn’t said anything, my family would be very suspicious.” You nodded, scribbling out ‘5’ and writing ‘2-3’. “‘Kay. Are there any significant past relationships - serious girlfriends, fiancés that I should know about? I don’t need full details, just, like, broad strokes so that if someone mentions something, I’m not completely in the dark.” “One ex-wife, one ex-fiancé,” Marcus answered without hesitation. You nodded a little, jotting that down, and stilled when he added, “My ex-wife will be at the wedding.” “Good to know. Is that contentious?” “No,” Marcus shook his head, “No, it ended amicably.” You considered Marcus, his puppy-dog eyes, soft smile and kind nature, and you couldn’t imagine it ending any other way. “She’s still close to my family,” He tacked on. “Oh,” You laughed a little, “Great. That’s gonna be fun for me.” “What do you mean?” Marcus frowned. You shot him a look. “Your family is still close to your ex-wife. You’re bringing a new girlfriend home. You don’t think this could get a little tense? Or is your entire family just as nice as you are?” Your brows rose as Marcus laughed a little, his head ducking bashfully at the question. “We try not to judge,” he conceded, shrugging, “I’ve brought a couple of other people home since the divorce. They’re not going to jump to conclusions.” You hummed, glancing further down your list. Your stomach twisted at one question, but it was one that you knew that you had to ask. “Speaking of jumping to conclusions,” You shifted in your seat, “Is there anyone in your family that might run a background check on me?” “A background check?” “Yeah,” You nodded, “I mean, I know my records are sealed and wouldn’t pop if someone ran a normal background check on me, but if anyone in your family is in law enforcement like you and...And went poking?” “No, they wouldn’t,” Marcus shook his head. “You sure?” “I’m positive.” You lowered your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek to stopper asking for a third reassurance as you jotted the note down. “...You don’t trust easily, do you?” Marcus asked softly. The question turned your blood icy for a moment. But for as much ire as it raised in you, you were careful not to take offense. You knew that he wasn’t trying to get a rise out of you - you were doing the guy a favor, and it would be pretty ill-advised of the man to piss you off at this point. “What ever gave you that idea?” You teased instead, giving him a look out of the corner of your eye. Marcus’ lips twitched with a smile and you returned it. “Alright,” You added, looking through the rest of your list, “Let’s see what else we’ve got before we start drilling this stuff.” 

“Drilling?” “Shitty liars need to practice, Pike.” “Marcus.” “Hey, it was better than ‘Agent’.” “At least I’m not the only one that needs practice.” -- 

“Run it by me again,” You requested, tucking one leg up under yourself and leaning back against the arm of the couch. Marcus sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. He’d ditched the tie, had popped the top few buttons of his shirt, and his sleeves had been rolled up around his elbows. The man looked a little haggard - it was precious. He straightened up, brow scrunching before his head tipped to the side just a little. “Okay. Okay, we met a year ago when I moved to D.C... You work with the Bureau, assisting on cases, mostly art forgeries.” You nodded encouragingly, waving him on. “We started dating two and a half months ago,” He’d settled on that, finally, not wanting to pick two or three, “After we spent so much time together on the Coleman case. You’re an art history professor, you...Have been engaged twice before,” He added, pointing a finger at you. You rolled your eyes a little bit. “Keep going,” You ordered. You raised a brow as Marcus’ brow furrowed a little more, his head turning just a bit. “You don’t have any siblings, you’re not close to your family, and we have not set any plans for the future in stone...Yet.” “Why do you keep tacking on that ‘yet’?” “Because my family knows me. They know I think about those things, and they know I don’t get into relationships unless I really think there’s something there. If they feel me pulling back on that, they’ll think it’s because I’m worried about scaring you off.” “You’re bringing me home not only to meet your family, but to stay there for a week and for a wedding-- which your entire family will be attending. I think that’s a healthy fear,” You retorted. Marcus smiled a little bit, raising his hand in concession. “How’d I do?” He asked. “Much better. You didn’t close your eyes halfway through to remember the details and you stopped ticking things off on your fingers. You do this thing, though, when you’re getting ready to lie, it’s like watching someone wind up for a pitch.” “What do I do?” “You do this--” You imitated Marcus’ furrowed brow and tilted head, “It’s subtle, but you always do it.” “You think my family’ll notice?” “Only if you play poker with them.” Marcus chuckled, slouching back against the arm of the couch and scrubbing his hand over his face. “God, I’m beat,” He muttered. You nodded a little, shutting your notebook and getting ready to tell Marcus that you would get out of his hair. “Wanna go get some dinner?” Was his next question. -- “Did you seriously just order pancakes?” You asked, brows raised. You’d wound up at a diner not too far from Marcus’ apartment - somewhere where the staff seemed to know and were very fond of him. “Yeah,” Marcus nodded firmly, “Dinner is the best time for breakfast.” You chuckled a little, reaching out and taking up your soda. “So, engaged twice?” He asked. You rolled your eyes a little. “Once in college, when I was young and...Quite stupid,” You admitted, “And then once a couple of years ago.” “What happened the second time, if you don’t...Mind?” Marcus cringed a little as he asked. It took you a moment to answer, and he rushed to add, “You don’t have to tell me.” You shook your head. “It’s okay,” You promised, “I, um… I told them that I had a record.” Marcus’ expression softened. “You hadn’t told them before?” “We moved really fast, which I usually don’t when it comes to relationships. I don’t know, usually that stuff is always on my mind when I’m with someone, but with them it never really felt like it mattered. When I did tell them, though, it…” Your eyes lowered to the table as regret twisted in your stomach, “It broke everything.” “Did you tell them what happened?” “They didn’t give me the chance.” The two of you were quiet for a few moments - Marcus digesting this information as you sat in the swirl of bitterness that it had dredged up. “Anyway,” You shook your head, drawing the both of you out of it, “Guess it shouldn’t really matter that they left when they did. I realized later that, given their reaction, they were going to leave no matter when I told them… How much of that you disclose to your family is up to you.” Marcus didn’t say anything for a few moments, searching your face. “Know what I never understood?” He finally asked. “What?” “Why they never nailed any of the people buying from you or your grandmother.” You shot him a skeptical look.  “You know that it’s not punishable by law to buy a forgery or be a rich piece of shit.” “You were a kid,” Marcus frowned. You considered this for a moment, directing your eyes to the ceiling to find the best way to order your thoughts. “...I was a minor,” You contended, “But I was old enough to know that what we were doing was wrong. I… I knew that we were duping people, I knew that it was illegal. I knew the paintings were forgeries, and I knew that the people that we were dealing with were dangerous. I’m just lucky I wasn’t tried as an adult.” “You were raised to do all of that and then left hung out to dry by the person that was supposed to protect you,” Marcus argued quietly. You swallowed thickly, hurriedly looking to the table as you felt tears spring up in your eyes. You tried not to think about these things most days. And for Marcus to have this level of empathy, of understanding...You were sure that the man had glanced through your case file at some point when he started working with you, but hadn’t expected this. Most people didn’t look too far past what you were doing to try and understand how you’d come to be in your position. But then, most people weren’t Marcus. “...No wonder I don’t trust easy, huh?” You tried to joke after you’d blinked the tears away and lifted your eyes back to his, a thin smile on your lips. Before he could say another word on the matter, the food arrived.  

The two of you tucked in quietly, After a few minutes, you nudged his foot with yours. 

“Tell me about Marnie? And her fiancé, um… Hazel, right?” You requested. 

Marcus’ face pulled with a fond smile, and you felt ease wash over you again. -- “So, just let me know what the wedding colors are so I don���t wind up wearing a dress that matches them and we should be all good,” You reached for your bag as Marcus pulled his car up in front of your apartment building. “Sure thing.” “And if you think of anything else that your family might ask about us, you know, so we can plan ahead.” “I will.” “Okay-- Oh! Uh… Are you a big PDA guy? Like, is that something your family’s going to expect?” “I tend to be kinda touchy, yeah, but I can tone it down.” “Well, what are we talking about here? Hand-holding, hugging?” “Yeah,” He nodded, “And probably a hand on your shoulder or your back, maybe a kiss on your cheek or forehead or…” Anticipation thrummed through you as his gaze darted to your lips. “‘Kay,” You nodded a little, feeling your heartbeat tick up in your chest. “We don’t have to--” Marcus started to reassure, but you waved him off. “It’s totally fine,” You reassured him, “I trust you.” Marcus smiled at you, a gentle smile overtaking his lips. “Glad to hear it. I’ll get you those wedding colors as soon as I can.” “Thanks,” You smiled, “Night, Marcus.” “Goodnight,” He chuckled as you got out of the car. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​​​ ; @spideysimpossiblegirl​​​ ; @blueeyesatnight​​​ ; @elen-aranel​​​ ; @yespolkadotkitty​​​ ; @artsymaddie​​​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​​​ ; @lunaserenade​​​ ; @winniedaboo​  ; @empress-palpat1ne​​​ ; @randomness501​​ ; @nutmeg-20​ ; @leonieb​​ ; @the-feckless-wonder​ ; @lou-la-lou​ ; @captain-jebi​ ; @supernaturalgirl​ ; @naturenebula21​ ; @evelynseventyr​ ; @giselatropicana​

[snackhobi]

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

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

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

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

--

Jung Hoseok is a lot of things. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You realise other people work here, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good lord," Yoongi mutters.

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, done!”

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

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

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

“Flatterer,” you say.

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

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

“Let me have a proper look.”

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

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

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

“Yeah, she did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There,” you declare. “All better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re incorrigible.”

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Celebratory 70th episode filming dinner?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ugh. Ughughughugh. Stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to talk about it?”

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

“Long day?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” you’d said. 

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

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

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

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

“I- what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.” Hoseok’s voice is a hush.

“I’m in love with you, Hoseok.” 

There. You said it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen. “You’re-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hoseok?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” Hoseok says.

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

“You’re so cute,” Jimin says.

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl]

Changing Spirits (Zuko x Reader) [Everything Has Changed Part 3]

Title: Changing Spirits Summary: You settled in with the gang, but are confronted by a very real issue when Zuko reveals that he's 'lost' his fire bending ability. You also relive memories of the past Warnings: None really Request: Some of you wanted part 3 so here it is!!

A/N: Been recieving a lot of positivity and love on the last two parts so thank you for that! xx

PART 1: EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED PART 2: CHANGE IS GOOD PART 3: CHANGING SPIRITS PART 4: A HEART OF CHANGE

Zuko~Changing Spirits

Waking up in a new environment was strange. It was colder than the fire nation, a gentle breeze could be felt through out the temple. It wasn't unwelcomed, however. You shifted in your bed, and glanced over at Zuko. He was still asleep, and for the first time in forever he looked relaxed. You gently rise and prop yourself up with one hand, and slowly take in the room.

     It felt weird to be in a place like this.

    The fire nation had always taught you growing up that it was the most glorious nation in existence: that it had the best architecture, the most clever scientists, the only worthy culture- and yet you find yourself almost in awe here. How different would've it have been had it not been for your people 100 years ago... You try not to think about it.

    Taking one last look at Zuko, you get out of bed. You decide to leave him sleeping. He looks so peaceful, it would be a shame to disturb him. And, besides, you know he needs the sleep. He hadn't slept well in the fire nation; he told you himself. He couldn't sleep, not with the guilt he felt. You wished you could sleep longer too; you know you need the rest. Hunger calls you, though, and so does curiosity. Although you feel nervous about how the gang will react to you, you know that they wouldn't deny you food. Or, at least, you hoped they wouldn't.

---

"Hi," you awkwardly say as you leave the temple, approaching the group of misfit teens in front of you, "Uh, I just wondered if I'd missed breakfast..."

    You feel stupid now after saying it out loud, and you want the ground to swallow you whole as there is no immediate reply from the gang. Your heart begins to sink, and you want to back away, but you lift your head as you hear Toph speak.

    "I thought you and moody were never going to get up," Toph teases with a smile on her face, "Breakfast is over there."

     "Thank you," you murmur, "Zuko is sleeping in- yesterday was quite a long day."

     You sit down next to Sokka, making sure to leave enough space between the two of you so that you don't offend him or make him uncomfortable. You grab a bowl of breakfast- it smells delicious. Doing your best to be quiet and let the others speak, you listen to their conversation. It's hard to imagine less than a year ago this is who you were hunting. So much has changed. You were deep in thought, only to be brought from it by Sokka's voice.

    "So what's the deal with you and the prince of darkness anyway? Are you dating or something?" Sokka asks and you are kind of taken aback. `      You look up, a blush on your face.

     "Ur, no... No, it's not like that," you insist.

     "Your heart rate says otherwise," Toph laughs.

     You shoot her a look that you're sure she can feel.

     "We're just friends. We've been friends since we were kids. His mum... She took me in when my parents died. My father- he lost his life in the war and my mother... She was very ill for a long time. I owe Zuko and his mother my life," you open up to them, "I'm sorry I overshared I didn't-"

     "-I'm sorry that happened to you," Aang says, "That can't have been easy to share."

    "I don't think I've told anyone else that. Showing emotion in the fire nation is weakness," you tell them, "I know it's no excuse but I was brain washed from a young age. I'm glad I'm out here, doing the right thing."

     "You're right it doesn't excuse the things you've done," Katara says, "And, it can never undo the things you've done."

     "Katara, I-"

    "-But, I'm glad you've joined us."

    "You are?"

    "I saw how hard you fought to save us from-"

    "-Combustion Man," Sokka interrupts.

    Katara glares at him before continuing, "Yes, Combustion Man, and I don't entirely trust you or Zuko yet because that comes with time but I'm glad you chose the right side."

    "I know I can never undo what I've done, but I have changed. I'm sorry for what the fire nation did to your village- to all of your homes, and all of your families... The fire nation did a lot more than attack other nations- first they started with their own. I don't want the fire nation to be seen like that anymore.

      My grandmother used to tell me stories of what the world was like before the war: all I want is to do my part in restoring that world. "

    You and Katara share a look, and for the first time since you joined the Avatar, you finally have a moment of understanding.

---

When Zuko wakes up, he is alone. Panic sets in and he thinks something is wrong. But, then he waits and listens; he calms down when he hears your voice. It sounds like you're talking to the gang. Zuko can't help but smile when he hears your laughter. He hesitates for a second, before getting out of bed, and following the sound of your voice down the halls.

---

You hear footsteps and your head turns. It's Zuko: you smile at him and gesture for him to come over. He follows your lead cautiously and sits beside you. You serve him a bowl of breakfast, and go back to listening to the group talk. From one side, you can feel Zuko looking at you. When you gaze towards him, he looks away.

    "How did you sleep?" you murmur to Zuko.

    "Good..." Zuko replies, "What about you? You weren't there when I woke up."

    "Oh, sorry," you say, putting your bowl of breakfast down, "I didn't want to wake you up. You looked like you needed a few more minutes."

     Zuko blushes, but doesn't say anything else.

     The day rolls on, and Zuko begins trying to teach Aang how to how to fire bend, which was proving more and more difficult by the hour. You decided not to watch them train. You'd sparred with Zuko on many occasions, and you thought your presence wouldn't make the situation any better. So, you decided to try and bond with the girls of the group.

     Meanwhile, Sokka was dedicated to annoying Zuko.

    "Come on Sifu Hotman," Sokka teased, "Where's your giant flames now?"

    "I'm trying Sokka," Zuko said through gritted teeth, "Maybe it's that I can't concentrate when the only thing I can hear is the sound of your voice!"

    "Maybe we should get your girlfriend to come and give you a pep talk," Sokka laughed.

    Aang suppressed a laugh under his hand.

    "Y/N isn't my girlfriend," Zuko yelled back.

    "I never mentioned anything about Y/N- but if the shoe fits..."

    "Go away!" Zuko fumed, resisting the urge to grab Zuko.

    "I think it's best if you leave, Sokka," Aang says trying to diffuse the situation.

    Sokka glanced at Aang and then gave a shrug. He made his way over to the rest of the gang, ignoring the glare he could feel in the back of his head- mostly likely from Zukko. ...Who was he kidding? It was definitely from Zuko. For some reason talking about you was a really good way to push Zuko's buttons. Sokka didn't mean anything malicious by it, but it was a small revenge to annoy him about you.

    The water tribe boy sat down beside his sister with a huff.

    "Got bored of watching the fire bending did we?" Katara asked.

    "No, mostly because there wasn't much fire bending going on," Sokka said, before looking at you, "And, by the way your boyfriend is being extra moody today."

    "He's not my- You know what, never mind," you stop yourself, "Wait, what do you mean by there wasn't much fire bending going on? Zuko's an excellent fire bender. You've all seen it- ah sorry Toph, I mean experienced it."

     "No sweat," Toph reassures.

     "I don't know," Sokka says, "All I know is that Sifu Hotman wasn't very hot."

     "...That's strange," you murmur.

---

When Zuko and Aang come back later, you can tell something is off. Zuko seems upset, and angry... And, disappointed. You paused for a moment before saying anything. Something big was off. You'd seen Zuko grumpy before, but this wasn't just some small irritation. This was something huge.

     "Listen everybody," Zuko announced, "I've got some pretty bad news. I've lost my stuff."

     He sighs and looks down. 'His what?' you thought.

     "Don't look at me," Toph exclaimed folding her arms, "I didn't touch your stuff."

     "I'm talking about my fire bending. It's gone," Zuko corrected.

     No, it couldn't be. That didn't make any sense. Zuko couldn't have lost his fire bending. He needed to teach Aang fire bending. Aang needed to master all four elements to defeat the Fire Lord. Oh, this was bad this was really bad. Part of you heard the others speak, but you weren't really listening. You were too busy panicking.

     You interrupt them, "There's got to be a way to get it back though right?"

     Zuko just kept his eyes to the ground.

     "He just needs to go back to the original source of fire bending," Toph says confidently, "I learned earth bending from the badger moles. They were the original earth benders."

     "The dragons," you murmur, "They were the original fire benders."

     "And, they're extinct," Zuko huffs.

     "How? What happened? Roku had a dragon," Aang says.

     "They just are extinct okay?" Zuko snaps, turning away from the group.

     Even though the dragons were extinct, the culture that worshipped them still had ruins. And, they weren't too far away. It was worth a shot. Anything was at this point. It was Zuko's destiny to teach Aang fire bending, you know it was- and, yet it was getting so difficult so early on. You sighed and put your head in your hands. No. No, it was too early for defeat. Zuko and Aang needed to visit the Sun Warrior's ruins. It was at least worth a shot.

     Zuko and Aang had packed basic supplies and set off for the Sun Warrior's ruins. You tried not to feel too worried for them, but it was hard not to when you barely knew anything about the Sun Warriors. ...But, they went extinct so nothing good could've happened to them.

     "Try not to miss me too much," you say to Zuko.

     Zuko gives a small smile.

     You hesitate then bring him in for a hug.

     "Stay safe, okay?" you murmur more seriously.

     You feel him hug back.

     "I'll do my best to come back in one piece."

     "You better."

---

You were thinking about Zuko all the rest of the day. They were gone too long for your liking.  Sleeping alone in the room without Zuko didn't feel right. You tossed and turned and settled on your back. Your eyes stared up at the ceiling before your forced yourself to close them. You think back to all the times you spent sleeping beside Zuko- from sleep overs as a child, to on his war ship, to the small room in Ba Sing Sei... It didn't feel right: being without him.

     You thought back to when you were children and you had snuck into his room.

~~~

    "Zuko!" you yelled out, "Help me up."

    The little prince ran to his window to see you clutching at his balcony. You'd scaled the side of the building, and had your hand wrapped around one of the rungs of the balcony. Zuko grabbed at your hand, and hauled you onto the balcony. You laughed as you fell into a lump onto Zuko.

    "What the hell are you doing?" Zuko whisper-yelled, "Are you trying to wake everyone up?"

    "No," you smiled, "I was trying to see you."

     Zuko rolled his eyes.

    "You could just use the door you know," he said, cracking a smile.

    "Where's the fun in that?" you beamed, "Besides it was a very important mission: I hadn't seen you all day. I had to sneak in to make sure no enemies caught me."

     "Yeah, sorry about that... I had 'royal stuff' to do with my father. I'd much rather spend time with you."

      You smiled and begin telling him about your day, and your plans for tomorrow. Soon, it got later and later. The sun had set and you were both getting tired. You told Zuko you were going to go back to your room, but Zuko insisted you stay in his. You know- in case any enemies caught you. You caved in and clambered into his bed with him. It was your first sleep over ever!

     And, it wouldn't be your last.

     Zuko's mother opened the door, to check on her son. She smiled softly as she saw you and Zuko tucked up into bed. She didn't want to disturb you both so she just whispered good night, and gently closed the door. She always knew you and Zuko shared a life long bond.

      If only she could see you now...

~~~

You hadn't mean to sleep in... It just sort of happened. It was probably a sign though; you needed the rest, and you had finally let the weight of everything sink in. The reality of your situation was finally settling in, and despite the conflict you had initially faced, you were here. Alive. And, for now well.

     You'd were finally drawn from your sleep from a commotion. Voices.

     Your ears practically pricked up at the sound of footsteps. Were Aang and Zuko finally back? Your question was answered when Zuko stepped into the door frame. You chucked your bed sheets off and ran to him. It was him this time that brought you in for a hug.

     "You were gone so long."

     "I know, I'm sorry," Zuko murmured.

     "I hope this means you found something there," you say, breaking contact with him, "And, that you're a fire bending master again?"

      "You could say that. Let's just say the dragons aren't as extinct as we thought."

      "Good, because I was getting worried I was going have to take up the role of the grumpy fire bender in the group," you teased.

      "Oh, so what role do you take?"

      "I'm obviously the fun fire bender," you smiled, "Who brings the life to the party."

      "Oh yeah, obviously."

      Little did you know, Zuko had been thinking of you all the time he had been gone. As he learned about the original source of fire bending, he couldn't help but think back to you. And, he took you into his heart. Once, he was driven by anger and the desire to catch the Avatar.

     That had changed: his motivations had changed. His very spirit had changed. He now wanted to save the world.

     And, protect you.

[cupcakemolotov]

Happiness Looks Like You

So I think I have been poking at this thing for two years now. Anyway, its done, I am kicking it out of my WIP files, and y’all get lots of fluff.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Fluff and Humor; Drinking; Drinking & Talking; Drunken Flirting; (Only Somehwat Drunken);New Year's Eve;New Years; Caroline Forbes Travels the World;Ignoring TO;Ignoring Anything Canon I Don't Like;Happy Bonnie Bennett;Everyone deserves better

You can read it here on A03:

                                                    -    

Caroline felt a bit silly that it took her so long to realize what her nose was trying to tell her. She wasn’t even really that drunk, just kind of tipsy. It'd been a really long two days of moving, after all, even for a vampire, and she’d totally deserved those Bloody Mary’s. And that shot of whiskey. The bottle of gin. She’d turned down the vodka, hadn’t she?

It was New Year’s Eve, and she was maybe an itty bitty, tiny bit drunk.

The sage, potent and familiar, had helped to throw her off. Spells were common on this night, the need for private conversation and so she’d merely wrinkled her nose as she moved away from the exit she’d been pushing towards, wondering if another drink would suffice for the next half hour or so. Witch business on New Years was not something she wanted to be involved in.

Been there, done that, used Enzo as bait.

Really, it was an evening she just wasn’t up to repeating. Bonnie would have kittens, and the lectures had been bad enough the first time. Better to just find a safer spot even if it meant food options would be limited. She didn’t need blood, and the craving for something deep fried could wait. Turning on her heel, she just started to move when a different, old and recognizable scent teased her nose. It was familiar and intricate, something she’d never been able to fully name but knew well.

Hybrid.

With that single breath came a deluge of memories her alcohol induced haze couldn’t quite block, and she exhaled on a rush of air. Ignoring the jostling around her to rise up on her toes with her heart in her throat, she’d barely caught a glimpse of tousled curls she’d know anywhere, the arrogant set of a pair of broad shoulders moving deeper into the crowd she’d just left.

Klaus.

Caroline landed back on her heels with a thud. It’d been nearly a century since she’d walked away from Mystic Falls, and a series of noisy, converted warehouses in Amsterdam in the midst of a New Year’s Celebration was the last place she’d have thought to find him. Once or twice over the years when she’d allow herself to think of him, she sometimes wondered if it’d really be centuries before the next time they’d talk. Some nights, that seemed like a very long time.

But for all her occasionally morous musings, she knew Klaus wasn’t one to fade quietly into the background. In the back of her mind she’d known it had always just been a matter of time before they’d run into each other. The world had become much smaller and much bigger than she could ever have imagined back in Mystic Falls, and now her feet felt frozen to the floor.

Did she follow him?

Did she say hi?

Behind her, someone cursed and stumbled drunkenly into her, and it broke her out of her daze. Post-ball drop, the converted warehouse around her was a madhouse and for a moment she weighed the chance that he’d seen her and chose to avoid her, and immediately discarded it. It wasn’t Klaus’ style. If he’d seen her, she knew down to her bones he’d have taken the opportunity to say hello.

Her lips curled at the realization that for once, she’d have the chance to surprise him. It seemed fitting, in the early hours of the new year. Decided, she moved through the crowd in the direction he’d gone, hoping she could catch him. Reaching up smooth curls turned frizzy from hours dancing, Caroline was thankful she’d chosen to dress up.

She almost hadn’t.

The last two weeks had been a chaotic mix of boxes and paint samples, arguing with Enzo via VC as he complained about her ditching him and Bonnie in London. Her witchy best friend had mostly ignored their bickering, her fond exasperation clear in the commentary she ran from the background. She hadn’t managed to buy more than a few of the basics, it was seriously going to annoy her until she found the perfect headboard, but at least the mattress was off the floor and she’d found a pair of super cute side tables with pretty motifs that brought in the colors she wanted.

Decorating agreed with her.

So did living outside of the US.

Leaving had been hard, but it hadn’t been lonely, not with Enzo and Bonnie with her. They’d all changed, the way she’d been told she would, but they hadn’t lost themselves, the way had worried her. Bonnie might have learned to accept her friend’s choices, but she was still Bonnie. Dangerous, opinionated, and a lovelier friend you couldn’t find. She was also a witch madly in love with a vampire who was totally pro-murder. Enzo had no regrets about who and what he was, and he’d been so good for her friend who had packed enough hurt and troubles in her late teens and early twenties for ten lifetimes.

And once she had been surrounded by fewer judgements and no expectations, Caroline had finally found the balance between the vampire and girl that made her happy. It had taken time, she’d needed to outgrow the parts of humanity she’d held onto for all the reasons that had never been her own, but she’d never felt so steady in her own skin. She suddenly found she wanted to know if it was something Klaus would notice. She rather thought he would; he had always seen her better than anyone else, sometimes even better than she saw herself.

Amsterdam was her recognition of that, the first place she'd picked to be hers. Just hers. And hours before, when she’d sat in her first house, if not her first home studying two days worth of work, it had been done with a sense of pride. The urge to go out, to celebrate, had sunk into her bones and she’d dug a dress out of her closet, found her favorite heels and gone dancing.

She’d never really been able to turn down a New Year’s Celebration in a new city.

And now here was Klaus, brushing back up against her life just as she was opening for new opportunities, letting herself go after she wanted because she wanted it. Caroline wondered if she should take it as a sign and if Klaus put any stock into New Year’s traditions. She’d make a point to ask him, she decided.

Nerves fizzed along her skin as she realized when she caught up to him she was going to talk to him, and her steps almost faltered. She pushed aside that unease, refusing to balk now. She wasn’t a quitter. Talking with Klaus had never really been her problem, really, and even if the last time she had seen him his mouth had still been wet from her arousal as he’d murmured his last goodbye, that was a long time ago.

And that thought wasn’t going to help her play this cool, at all. Rising back up on her toes, she scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes. If he’d moved to the VIP floor she was likely going to be out of luck, but there was another bar on the back wall that held all the overpriced booze. He might’ve headed there. Impatience had her moving people out of her way with a little more force than was advisable, and the crowd finally parted in front of her and she caught her first real look at him.

He looked good.

Klaus wore a pair of dark slacks, but if he’d had a jacket, he’d already discarded it. The crisp white sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled nearly to his elbows, and the hint of leather cords at his throat were tantalizing. He was holding a tumbler of whiskey, and for a moment he left her breathless. The last of her buzz disappeared under a surprising rush of feelings she didn’t want to look at, and her teeth sank into her lower lip.

He stood parallel to the bar, expression mildly bored as a witch spoke to him with a nervous face, the flush of his cheeks young. Amusement bubbled as she realized she was watching someone hit on Klaus even as something like jealousy coiled low in her belly at the realization, good taste or no. The idea that she was interrupting something was surprisingly sharp in her throat. Caroline considered leaving, even as the sudden hesitation annoyed her.

She was saved from having to make a choice when his shoulders suddenly straightened, his head coming up sharply as he clearly caught her scent even in the mosh of people. A half a heart beat later, and his head turned, eyes finding hers unerringly in the dim light.

Really, his hybrid senses were just unfair.

Dark and intent, the flicker of surprise behind his gaze that she’d always privately delighted in melted quickly into something hotter. His mouth curved slow and tempting, and she inanely lifted a hand in a small wave. His smile widened, and clearly the witch didn’t matter, because Klaus sat aside his drink immediately and cleared the distance between them in mere strides.

“Caroline,” Klaus murmured, dimples peeking through the scruff of his beard. “This is a surprise, love. A delightful one.”

She arched a brow, unable to help her own answering smile, and finding that she really didn’t want to. “Hi, Klaus. I’m not interrupting, am I?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Can I interest you in a drink?”

Around them, the music blasted at the whim of the DJ, the crowd surging, and Klaus threw a glare over her shoulder as someone bumped into her. Unbothered, she stepped closer to the heat of him, amused by the way his brows arched a little but he made no move to put distance between them. Assured that she was welcome, Caroline shrugged and moved by him. “Sure.”

He beat her to the bar by half a step, but she’d expected that. The witch had disappeared, and as Klaus moved to catch the bartender's eye, she took the opportunity to skim her gaze along the picture he made now that she was closer. She really liked that he’d forgone a tie, the open collar showing off the line of his collarbones beneath his usual tangle of necklaces. His eyes were amused when she glanced back at his face, but she was hardly embarrassed.

Particularly when he didn’t bother to mask the flicker of heat in his gaze as his eyes dipped along her body in a perusal that was anything but casual. The tip of his tongue flickered across his lower lip, eyes warm when they met hers again. “What brings you to Amsterdam, Caroline?”

Grinning, she lifted a shoulder and dropped it, knowing exactly what the motion would do for her boobs. Flirting with Klaus wasn’t new but having no rules against it was and, she realized, fun. “I live here.”

Interest sparked on his face. “Do you?”

Letting out a low hum, she bit the edge of her lip when a bottle of champagne and two glasses appeared. It would never cease to amaze her that the most deadly monster in any room he entered was such a giant cheeseball or how much she liked it. “What about you? Please tell me you're not stirring up trouble. I just finished renovations and would like to actually live in my house, Klaus.”

“Not this time,” he said easily as he poured the champagne and handed her the first glass. “I am here for a bit of business that has now been concluded, and I thought I’d visit an old friend or two. It’s been some time since I spent any time in this city.”

Caroline sipped her drink, letting it fizz on her tongue for a moment as she considered that. “Friends…” she said skeptically. “You have those?”

His eyes gleamed. “Of a sort. Though my current company is far more charming.” She scoffed, ignoring the way she could feel her cheeks heat. Klaus was undeterred by her skepticism. “Why Amsterdam, love?”

She considered his question, all the questions he hadn't asked. “I’ve been in Europe for a few decades now. When we left the states, well. Europe wasn’t our first stop, but Enzo kept insisting, and he’s amazingly persistent. And annoying. London is lovely, he might have been right about that, but I loved it here more.”

“Enzo?”

A hint of something dangerous flickered behind his eyes and she deliberately moved closer to nudge him with her hip. “Nope. Enzo is my friend and happily married to Bonnie. You break his neck and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

His lashes hid his gaze for a moment when she didn’t bother stepping back into her previous space, the heat of him pressed firmly against her side. His gaze held the tiniest flecks of gold at the edges of his eyes when his lashes parted and her pulse skipped. “And have you enjoyed making your home here, Caroline?”

“Yup. I have a few apartments I’ve bought, here and there. But I decided I wanted a house of my own, you know?” It had been an urge that she hadn’t satisfied with her tiny apartment in Cape Town or her flat in London. But Amsterdam was her first house. It’d felt bigger, more significant somehow. “And sometimes a girl just needs a bit of space from her friends, but not too far so, Amsterdam.”

Buying her home had been a touch of serendipity, mixed with careful planning and maybe some online stalking. When she had finally found the home she wanted, she might’ve shamelessly used a teeny tiny bit of compulsion to ensure her offer was accepted, but Real Estate was cut throat and she liked to win. Besides she'd done her research, and she knew exactly what the property was worth. But not even compulsion could make the buying process run completely smooth.

“I’m glad,” Klaus murmured, eyes warm.“I can see how this place would suit you.”

His words settled something in her chest and she took another sip of the excellent champagne to hide it. This monster who only wanted her to fly. Head tipping, Caroline studied his face curiously. “And you? What have you been up to? The PG-13 version, please.”

Pleasure and amusement flickered across his face at her question. “Less murder and mayhem than you’d imagine, sadly, as it does liven up the occasional bit of boredom. But there is always an idiot or two who has decided eternal life is just not the existence for them. I’m generally happy to oblige.”

Her lips pressed together to hold in a smile at his mock exasperation, and his eyes gleamed at her. “That can’t be all you do. Surely.”

Klaus reached up and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, fingertips lingering. “I’ve spent the past few years moving through parts of Europe, but not much to report that would surprise you. The occasional sibling idiocy to correct, a painting here or there.”

She was willing to bet there was a lot more to that statement but she didn’t push. She’d heard rumors of what had happened in New Orleans and had no desire to bring that up here and now. “And how long will you be in Amsterdam?” Caroline asked, making no move to step away from his touch. “Visiting your… friends.”

“I suppose that depends on my welcome,” he replied lightly, but his eyes were dark. His mouth tilted in a small smile before he took a drink of his champagne.

Caroline rolled her eyes at the hint of coaxing in his voice. “I am not inviting you to my house, Klaus. It’s mostly empty and boring and my grandmother would roll over in her grave.”

“Ah,” he agreed mock-seriously, the glimmer of amusement behind his eyes also lingering in the dimple in his cheek. “We can’t have that, can we?”

She pushed at his shoulder with no real force, trying not to laugh. “No, we cannot.”

Klaus didn’t budge, she hadn’t expected him too, if anything he leaned into her space with an amused little noise. “Invitation or no, I’d be delighted to hear of your plans. I have set up a home or two myself, and have a few contacts should you have trouble finding a piece you want. Dining room tables for instance, can be quite vexing.”

“Pretty sure I don’t have your budget, but I’ll probably take you up on that,” Caroline said. A lot could be said about Klaus’ home that she’d seen in Mystic Falls, but his taste, while a little stuffy, had been impeccable.

“Excellent,” he murmured. “You’ll also have to let me know what you consider an appropriate housewarming gift as well. Such things have changed over the years, and I haven’t had a reason to brush up on that particular etiquette.”

Something warm tugged at her chest and she shook her head to cover it. “And here you were just trying to tell me you had friends.”

Before he could reply, and the glitter of mischief on his face told her he had a response, the music skipped, jarring the crowd. All around them, the lights that had been dimmed started to turn on. Klaus scowled murderously, and she laughed once her ears stopped ringing.

And realized she wasn’t ready for this to be over.

Looping her arm through his, she tipped her head towards the exit, stomach a sudden tangle of butterflies. “I was actually on the hunt for food when I saw you and decided to say hi. We’ll probably have to fight the crowds now, but any interest in joining me?”

He had gone carefully motionless when her arm had taken his, but at her words, her admittance that she’d come back to see him, his smile left her breathless. It was such a delighted, boyish thing. Picking up the half full champagne bottle, he handed it to before stepping next to her. “I’d be delighted. I might even have a suggestion or two on a location that will be open this time of night and willing to find us a table.”

She took a long swig of the bottle, letting him start her through the crowd before offering it back. “Pancakes, Klaus. I want pancakes.”

Klaus ignored the bottle, his hand lifting so his thumb could trace her wet lower lip. Bringing it to his mouth, he licked the champagne from his thumb and her body immediately heated, her body becoming intensely aware of everywhere they touched. “Hmm, I’m sure we can find a place to meet those exacting standards.”

Taking a calming breath, she narrowed her eyes at him in warming and he seemed entirely unrepentant. “Uh huh. Pancakes or I won’t show you any of the pictures on my phone of my house.”

His laugh was soft and he started moving again. The crowd never quite pressed close, and people moved out of their way as soon as they got a look at his face. He looked human, the monster tucked away by the amusement and indulgence of him, but his presence was hardly affected by either of that.

“A tragedy, but one we can avoid.” He glanced at her, that dimple tugging at his smile. “Should I warn you that I might have a… suggestion or two?”

She snorted. “By suggestion, you mean opinion. And as long as those opinions are that my taste is flawless and I’m absolutely correct about everything, you may have as many as you want.”

Another laugh, this one deeper, and he led her through the crowd out into the darkness of pre-dawn. The air was cold, she hadn’t bothered with a jacket, but with Klaus next to her she didn’t feel it. Taking another long drink of the last of the champagne, she knew it wasn’t just the booze that fizzled in her veins.

She might not have kissed him at midnight, but she knew in her bones that this night was changing things. Klaus would take her to breakfast, would keep to whatever boundaries she set between them, boundaries she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted anymore, but she’d invited him back to her life. Klaus wasn’t the type to ignore that kind of opening.

Sliding her hand down his arm to link their fingers instead, she found herself smiling widely as his palm pressed tightly against hers.

Happy New Year indeed.

[snarkwrites]

firstdate | greg sanders ; csi vegas [mature.]

Notes:

So.. this is kind of an AU take on my current CSI Vegas fic, trouble. You do not have to be reading that to read this though. Tis merely filth I wanted to write, from the standpoint that instead of them being thrown together and having to deal with a crazy ass ex... Sara arranges a blind date for them after they’ve met a time or two and she suspects they’re into each other. It’s kind of set around the earlier seasons too.

Ya’ll.. If anyone would rather read THIS VERSION... I’m highkey tempted to maybe write it at some point. Like... Minus all the crazy shit that’s going on in Trouble. It’d just be their run ins and stuff and then them getting together.. anyway.. I had to have this, so ya’ll must now suffer with.

Prompts:

None. Blind date / sex on a kitchen table could be considered, I suppose.

Warnings:

This content is not meant for minors. If you’re under 18+ this is not for your eyes. I warned you very clearly, right here. If you don’t like smut, you’re not going to want to keep reading.

As far as things you need to be aware of if you’re sticking around: unprotected sex ( why is it always my horny ass muses that never remember protection?) body fluids, dry humping in a movie theater...Pretty much it.

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list ] 

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave​ 

@twistnet​ 

                                                 BLIND DATE.

“Okay. I’m here.” I took a deep breath, reaching for the handle on the doors that led into the movie theater. Taking a second or two to check myself over in the reflection of the glass as I continued to mutter to myself, “I’m here.. Now to see if this mystery guy shows up.”

Just as I went to step into the lobby and out of the rain, I felt a tap to my shoulder from behind. It was around this same time that my eyes locked on Greg Sanders, standing behind me. Flashing me a grin even though he looked just as nervous as I was.

I felt my cheeks start to burn under his intent gaze.

We’d only spoken a few times, mostly when I popped in to bring my sister food during her shift and on my break from dancing at the club. And those few times had been… Intense. To say the least.

There was definitely underlying tension between us. A heavy pull to him.

I’d never actually told my sister this, of course.

Which was interesting considering Sara was the one who set up this whole blind date for the night.

“Belle, hi.”

“Greg, hey.” my teeth caught on my lip and I turned to face him. He seemed to remember the single red rose in his hand and chuckling quietly, he held it out. I took it, smiling as I passed it under my nose.

He reached around me, his arm brushing right against my side as he pulled the door to the lobby open, letting me step inside. Stepping inside behind me.

,, I owe my sister for this. More importantly, how did she know? Does this mean he’s hinted about being interested in me, I wonder?” my mind was working overtime. My mouth wasn’t quite keeping up with it, because I wanted to ask just to clarify that I’d somehow managed to luck into Greg being my blind date tonight, but the words were stuck in my throat. I mean, logically it had to be him, he’d given me the deep blood red rose I held in my hand.

“So…” I finally managed a word. A weak one, but still a word. Greg chuckled. His eyes roamed over me slowly. Subtly. But not subtle enough that I didn’t know he’d just checked me out. He stepped closer as a crowd of noisy teenagers all decked out as characters from the horror movie I intended to see rushed past. His hands settled on my arms to hold me steady. I stepped closer to him. Flashed a teasing grin.

“Are you sure you’re up for this? I mean it’s a horror marathon.” I asked. Greg smirked, shrugging. The movement called attention to broad shoulders and I stared at him entirely too hard for a few seconds.

Like an absolute moron.

“ I’ll be fine. Are you sure you’re going to be okay though. Sara told me that you like horror movies in theory, not so much in reality.” Greg flashed a teasing smirk of his own. One of us stepped closer. Our bodies brushed right against each other and the end result was this electric jolt shooting through my entire body at lightning speed.

I pretended to pout. Walking my fingers up the front of his faded gray t-shirt. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not alone tonight then, hm?” I practically purred. “For the record, I’m not that bad.” I gave a soft smirk, nodding to the line that was growing rapidly across the lobby for the movie we’d chosen as I grabbed his hand and started to make my way over to the end of the line.

I smirked a little as my eyes settled on our reflection in the plexiglass surrounding the ticket window and I could see the way he towered over me just slightly from behind. And yeah, maybe I couldn’t resist stepping back into him just a little. Enough so that our bodies kept contact. My smirk only grew as I saw him swallow hard. His hands settled on my hips.

And to anyone around us, we probably looked more like a couple out on a date than two people who barely knew each other on a blind date.

We’d gotten our tickets. Playfully arguing back and forth over the fact that I paid my own way as we drifted into the concessions area and got into line for snacks. I found myself drawn to the guy like a magnet, pressing myself back into him as we stood in line.

Snacks in hand, we started to make our way to the theater showing our movies. My hand found his, my fingers lacing through.

“I don’t really do the blind date thing often.. My sister didn’t like… guilt you into this, did she?” I had to ask just before we stepped into the room cloaked in darkness. Greg chuckled, raising a hand. Dragging it through spiky hair as he smirked down at me. “I was about to ask you if she guilted you into agreeing…”

We shared a laugh and my back hit the wall next to the door softly. Greg’s hand rested palm down against the wall, just beside my head as he gazed down at me. Intently. Like he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure how to go about saying it.

And then, finally… he did.

“I would’ve asked you myself, you know.” Greg chuckled quietly. This news had my mouth opening and closing as my brain tried to catch up to what he was essentially saying. I found myself pressing against him a little more. “You would, hm?” escaping my mouth as a quiet purr as he stared down at me and bit his lip, swallowing hard again and nodding.

“Mhm. I was actually going to. The next time you came into the station.”

I licked my lips, tilting my head slightly as I looked up at him. Toying with the front of his shirt as I continued to try and process what he was getting at. Stunned, because I’d never really thought that he felt the magnetism I felt. I’d actually had myself convinced that it was purely one sided. Or that he’d never actually be interested in me.

“I would have said yes.”

This time, he was pressing into me. Harder. I took a shaky breath, my eyes settling on his mouth. And then the flash of something in his eyes. The goofy smirk as his other hand squeezed my hip.

“I didn’t think you liked me.” Greg licked his lips, eyes drifting down to mine, settling on them. The end result was me, taking a few more shaky breaths.

If the lingering tension between us was thick before, it was downright smothering now.

But so was the excitement. And the sense of right. Calm. Like tonight at least, I was exactly where I needed to be.

“Honestly, same.” I answered, both of us sharing a laugh again.

My sister had managed to play both of us. The thought sank in. I made a mental note to really, really, really… Thank her for it later.

A throat clearing behind us had us laughing and disappearing into the darkened theater. We chose a seat in the back row and settled in. His arm slipped around the back of my seat and I leaned against him a little, our eyes meeting.

The theater went even darker and the opening scene of the movie began to play. Almost instantly, as the grainy black and white opening shot of Dr. Wolfenstein’s opening speech began, I dove my head down after a quiet shriek.

As quiet as one gets.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” I wondered in a whisper against his neck, making him laugh. But pull away and look at me. “If you wanna leave, we can…”

“Oh no. No, I’m determined to prove my sister wrong. I can handle this.” I took a deep breath. Greg leaned in, whispering against the shell of my ear, “If it’s too scary..”

The look in his eyes as mine met them gave away clearly what he didn’t say. I nodded, filing away the suggestion. Then the body count started to rise. And what he’d told me came rushing to the front of my mind.

“Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck.”

“Hey Belle.” Greg muttered, making me look up at him. When I did, he gently gripped my jawline, guiding my mouth against his, the taste of soda and m&m’s and popcorn mingling as his tongue trailed over mine, tangling with it and taking total control of the kiss, catching me by surprise just a little bit because honestly, if I’d imagined kissing him, I was usually more of the aggressor.. I wound up turning to the side in my chair slightly, deepening the kiss. Slipping my legs into his lap as his arm settled over them.

That huge group of teenagers had pretty much abandoned ship twenty minutes in just when the movie was starting to get a little too gory because the girl dressed as Baby was full on sobbing and begging to leave.

We basically had the theater to ourselves at this point.

And that heavy tension?

Only getting hotter. Heavier with each second that passed.

It wasn’t long until my legs across his lap wasn’t easy or convenient for either of us. Greg chuckled as a particularly deep and intense kiss broke and we pulled away to breathe a little.

The movie was all but ignored by now.

Merely background noise at this point.

I spotted the weak beam of an usher’s flashlight and devolved into a fit of giggles, muttering against Greg’s neck quietly, “We’ve got an usher. Let me just face the front really quick.. They usually make a round and they’re done. Unless… you like the thrill of almost getting caught in compromising positions...”  I flashed a teasing grin, a soft giggle leaving my lips as soon as I saw him turn just a shade red beneath the dim lighting. 

I straightened myself in my seat and took a few long and shaky deep breaths to attempt even beginning to calm myself down.

That damage was done already. I was… beyond wet. A dripping mess at this point. Everything just felt so much more intense. Intimate. The way his hands felt all over me. The way it felt to kiss him to the point where we were both dizzy and needed to breathe but also, didn’t want the kiss to end.

“Do I want to know what that meant?” Greg chuckled. A teasing grin as we found ourselves staring at each other again. Still trying to catch our breath from the deep and heavy kiss ended abruptly just seconds before.

I raised a brow. “What? Like you never purposely chose a boring movie and the back row of the theater in high school? Half the fun is in only just barely managing not to get caught...” I trailed off and gaped at Greg in disbelief when I could tell by the look on his face that he had no idea what I was talking about.

And there I went, falling just a little more.

“I,uh.. It wasn’t ever really a big issue, no.” Greg laughed quietly, shaking his head. “ To be fair, I wasn’t ever Mr. Popular, either.”

I giggled, raising my hand to my mouth to stop the sound. “No. Noooo.” but the whole admission was so sweet the attraction I had to him before grew even more. 

“You’re not serious.” I asked in a whisper as the usher finally made their way past us and out of the theater again. 

He leaned down in his chair a little, leaning into me. Muttering against the shell of my ear, “I am, actually.” as he gave me almost a sheepish look. 

“Jesus. Were girls at your school fucking blind or…?” I questioned, locking eyes with him all over again. The way his cheeks turned just a shade red beneath the dim overhead lighting only turned me on more than it should have. I glanced around the theater and then at the door behind us. 

Spotting absolutely no one, I smirked. Greg eyed me, a brow raised as I slipped out of my chair and into his lap, facing him. Leaning down, catching hold of his jaw, tilting his face upward as I leaned mine in closer. Muttering against his mouth, “We have to change that. Like.. that’s an epic wrong that has to be righted, sir.”

Greg shifted in his seat and his legs spread slightly to give himself a little more room and to catch me if I started to slip off his lap, I guess. When he did this, I could feel him starting to strain against his jeans and I rocked myself right over it, burying my mouth in his even deeper to stop myself from moaning too loudly. 

“Okay, so how does this work exactly?” he mumbled in a hushed and husky whisper against my mouth as his tongue swept past my lips, finding mine all over again. Gazing up at me. One of his hands going to my ass, squeezing. His other hand skimming up and down my side. I nearly whimpered again when he used the grip on my hip to rock me over the way he strained at his jeans harder. Pressing me down into him, sending a dull throb through my dripping sex.

My teeth latched onto his bottom lip, sucking. I rocked myself against him, baring down against his lap harder but it wasn’t enough. “It would’ve worked better if I’d worn a dress but trust me.. You know exactly what you’re doing.” I muttered as the soft smacks of our mouths meeting over and over again shattered the silence around us.

“Not really. Not when it comes to this...” he insisted. His fingers dug into my ass and his other hand tangled in my hair. He bucked himself against me when he shifted around in the seat a little. I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulder, rocking against him just a little more. Hoping to ease the dull throb I was really starting to feel.

We pulled away to breathe again and I leaned against him, muttering against his ear, “For a guy who says he hasn’t made out in the back row of a theater before, you definitely know how to make a girl wet.” as I tried to collect myself. Tried and failed. 

My words seemed to make him snap. He was shifting me around in his lap so that I pressed against the bulge strained hard against his jeans. The hand in my hair drifted down, disappearing between us. Settling flat against my throbbing cunt. Massaging clumsily because we had limited space to work with.

Our mouths met all over again with a ferocity that had me blown away. In awe. I’d always kind of considered that Greg was handsome. Quiet. Sweet.

I’d never really… Imagined he possessed the side he was showing me right now. Somehow, I got the feeling I was one of very few people -possibly the only one but i didn’t dare hope, who might have ever even seen this side of him and that thought turned me on even more.

“How wet, exactly?” Greg questioned, his gaze meeting mine. By now, any thoughts I’d previously entertained about actually watching the movies I’d paid to see was… A fleeting and distant memory.

I wanted him.

Hands and mouth all over me. Tearing my clothes off. Buried inside me.

“Fuck.” I writhed around in his lap. Desperate for more friction. Anything to ease the steady throb. The divine torment that was his hands all over my body. I reached down, grabbing hold of his hand. Guiding it back against my aching sex. He took a ragged breath when he felt the way I was just starting to soak through skin tight black jeans. Our faces bumped at one point, making us pull away to laugh. Getting lost in each other’s eyes all over again.

“Ya know, we’re not really watching this…” I mused, trailing my tongue gently over the outline of his mouth. Smirking when I felt him shiver and heard him mutter a barely audible “Fuck” under his breath as he gripped me harder and took a few shaky breaths.

“We’re not.” Greg agreed, a distracted hum as his hands roamed all over me. One disappeared beneath my shirt and I barely managed to bury my mouth against his fast enough to stifle the moan that got swallowed by the kiss when I felt his hand cup my breast, squeezing.

“We could leave.” I muttered as my lips ghosted down the side of his neck and I rocked and rubbed against the way he strained at his jeans all over again. Urgently.

The suggestion had him standing. Not bothering to untangle me from his body. My legs circled his waist, squeezing as he carried me out the door and then out a side exit of the theater since it was well past closing hours by this point.

The entire trip across the parking lot had us kissing, the kiss only breaking once we’d reached my car and I had to dig around in my pockets for my keys. Finding them in my jacket pocket, I slipped them into his hand after unlocking the car. Greg opened the passenger door, setting me down in the passenger seat. I pulled him down, his mouth meeting mine all over again. His hand settling between my thighs. Growling into the kiss as he rubbed my aching core. 

“Greg, get me out of here.” I moaned against his neck as I rocked against the palm of his hand. He shivered slightly as my mouth dragged over the area, latching on lazily. Breaking the kiss to pull away and lock eyes with me.

“Your apartment or mine?”

“Honestly, whichever one is closer?” I pleaded, beyond desperate to be alone with him. He nodded, stepping away, shutting the passenger door to my car. I buckled my seatbelt, letting out a whimper to myself in the silence of my car as I watched him sprint around the front of it to get into the driver seat.

Once he was inside I was doing my best to lean across the console, our mouths meeting in another frenzied and deep kiss. My mouth strayed, roaming down the side of his neck, leaving another small mark behind. He groaned, tilting my chin. Making me look up at him. Giving me a teasing smirk as he asked in awe, “What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

“Whatever you want.” I answered, licking my lips as I held his gaze. His smirk only grew as he muttered thoughtfully, “Whatever I want is a pretty broad answer.”

“I meant it too.” I whispered softly as my mouth danced down the side of his neck all over again, making him shiver once more.

“I didn’t even know my neck was a hot spot.” he chuckled as he started to pull out of the parking lot.

By the time we were parking outside of my apartment, I couldn’t take another second. He killed the engine and I unbuckled my seatbelt, slipping over the console and into his lap. Reaching down beside the seat to let it back a little bit further. 

He grabbed hold of my hips, rocking me against him as he pulled me closer. Bucking up into me from below as the tips of his fingers dug into my lower back and my ass. His mouth capturing mine in a frenzied kiss that he took complete control of, surprising me all over again. He leaned into me, putting my back right against the wheel of my car, making us both laugh when I accidentally pressed right against the horn and the noise shattered the softer sounds of our kissing and we wound up jumping apart. 

Taking deep breaths. Trying to get ourselves under control even though we both knew it was a little too late for that.

His hand caressed my cheek as we leaned against each other heavily. My hand trailed over his chest, settling palm down against it. Fingers curling in the fabric of his button up. Itching to grasp and tug and send buttons scattering as I tore his clothes off.

Everything was so very intense. Vivid.

And yet, soft. Gentle. Intimate.

“Okay, if we don’t move this inside, my nosy neighbor is going to get an eye full.” I half muttered, ghosting my lips against Greg’s mouth. Making him grip me tighter. Nodding. He got out of the driver seat, sprinting around the front of the car. Throwing open the door on my side and leaning in, scooping me up as if I were light as a feather.

Oh, I had no doubt he was stronger than he made himself seem, but something about the way he did it and the little chuckle and smirk on his face as he did so had me soaked through in seconds. 

My back met my front door with a soft smack and Greg was pressing into me heavily as he tried to be smooth and put the key in the lock without breaking our kissing and touching. Drawing a needy whine and a pout from me when he had to stop. Unlock the door.

He stepped inside my apartment, taking a minute to close and lock the front door behind him. Stepping over to the kitchen table, sitting me on top of it. My hands settled on his shirt and I tugged it apart, sending buttons to spray and settle on the flooring. He gripped the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up over my head, tossing it out into the room behind him.

With a quiet rip, my bra settled on the floor near my shirt and his shirt. My hand slipped down between us, fumbling with the button and then the zipper of his jeans as he started to work my jeans and panties down my legs. I let my heels settle on the floor with a quiet thud and kicked my jeans and panties free at the ankle and Greg grumbled about having to break the deepening frenzy of kisses to step away and pull off his shoes. He kicked his jeans and boxers free and stepped back into me.

My legs circled his waist, squeezing against. My arms wrapped around his neck and I gasped softly as our bodies molded together. The contrast, the way he felt pressed against me. Skin against skin. It was enough to take my breath away. His hands skimmed my sides, settling on my thighs. Squeezing as he slipped me forward on the table  even more. Burying his mouth in mine all over again with a quiet growl.

Teeth scraping against my bruised and swollen lips as his tongue separated them. Sinking his cock into me carefully. Slowly. Going still to let me adjust. His mouth latching onto my neck as he left the first of quite a few sizable marks behind on my skin. His grip on my hips tightening as he pumped in and out of me, a little faster. Slowing down when he felt me starting to shake a little and melt into him.

Tilting my chin as he mumbled softly, “This is not how I saw tonight going.”

“Me either.” I gasped, gripping his jaw, pulling his mouth against mine as my legs clenched his sides and my heels dug into his ass, driving his cock into me even deeper, making him strike directly against my spot. Sending a shiver racing through me that had him smirking against my mouth. Slamming into me all over again as he questioned, “You liked that, hm?”

“Yes.” I moaned out, my head falling back as my eyes fluttered open and shut and I tried to fight off a fast approaching orgasm.

Greg slowed to a stop, his hands and mouth all over me. Touching and kissing every patch of skin he could get his hands and mouth on. Locking eyes with me as he mumbled quietly, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Have you seen a mirror, sir?” I purred as my mouth crashed against his and I tried to rock my hips to meet his deep drives, eager to get off. His hands squeezed my hips, bringing my movements to a halt as the kiss broke and we pulled away to breathe. He leaned down, his forehead settling against mine as he caressed my face. “Not yet.”

I pouted, pleading. “Please?” I gasped out as he started to fuck into me all over again. Slower. More deliberately.

His grip on my body almost bruising and yet still somehow gentle. Careful.

“I’m not made of glass baby. Harder. Please?” I begged breathlessly. He slammed into me harder. Deeper. Groaning against my skin, “You feel so good. So good.”

“Greg!” my cry pierced the air as he muttered against my mouth, “Fuck… Belle. Baby, let go.” and he didn’t have to tell me a second time because as his hips snapped against me frantically and he buried even deeper inside, I went smashing over the edge, my orgasm ripping through me, making me cling to him and try to come down from the high, clenching his cock, flooding it. Which sent him straight into his own orgasm, throbbing and filling me up. Pulling away to stare at me before burying his mouth in mine until the kiss was so deep we were both dizzy.

“You don’t have to leave tonight…” I asked hopefully. He chuckled and shook his head. “No. Do you want me to stay, Belle?”

“Very much so.” I melted against him, giving a sleepy smile as I went in for another kiss....

[imagine-loki]

Omega Mine

TITLE: Omega Mine

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 14/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Loosely based on: Imagine Loki discovers the Avengers have an omega who has healing powers living with them. He’s an Alpha and he wants her, badly. 

RATING: M (eventually ) 

NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

My Omega

Everyone turned to look at you and Loki when he spoke those words.  You blushed and realized that they all caught the implication.  Loki had claimed you, with words if not with action yet.  He was so protective and caring, though, that you couldn’t mind. 

Really, it was sexy as hell.  

Nat gave Loki a firm look, snapping out of her shock.  “My threat still stands,” she informed him, as overprotective of you as any Alpha.  It didn’t matter that she was a Beta.  You were her responsibility.  She’d adopted you as a little sister and took that adoption seriously.  

Loki inclined his head.  “Elskling is safe with me,” he promised.  He clearly hated that the team threatened and didn’t trust him, but he understood that his past, and natural wariness of a strange Alpha were both to blame for that.  He would have to prove himself to them.  And to you.

Mostly to you.

You had to get to know each other to know if your instincts were right and that this was a good match.  

Nat nodded and promised that she would be back as soon as she could.  The rest of the team promised the same before they all rushed off to the jet.  The mission was more important than anything that was happening at home.  You would be safe with Loki.  He wouldn’t hurt an Omega he’d claimed and everyone knew it.  Besides, he was on Earth to make retributions.  Basically, community service.  

He hadn’t been in control of his actions during the Battle of New York and you didn’t think he was a bad person.  Misunderstood, maybe, but you looked forward to getting to know him better.  

Loki sighed in relief when the team was gone and took a step away from you, his armor shimmered away, leaving him in a green tunic and black pants.  You tilted your head at his choice in clothes.  “Clothes from Asgard?” You asked him, curiously. 

He nodded and blushed a light purple. “Habit…” he said sheepishly. 

You gave him a bright smile.  “I like them. They look comfortable.  And suit you,” he really did look hot as hell.  The clothes really did fit him.  You were drab in comparison in jeans and a t-shirt. And fluffy socks.  Fluffy socks were important and vital.  

“So what shall we do with our evening alone, Elskling?” He asked in a purr.  It didn’t seem that he much cared what you did together as long as he got to spend time with you.  

You took a moment to consider.  “Did Thor finish giving you the tour of the tower?” You asked.

He nodded and huffed. “Yes and I have to live on the same floor as the oaf,” he whined and actually pouted.  “He snores and he snores so loud I’m sure I’m going to hear it even across the hall,”

You couldn’t help giggling at the typical sibling rivalry coming out of the god’s mouth.  It put you so easily at ease.  “Poor Alpha,” you said fondly.

“Very poor me indeed,” he agreed with a smirk.  “There was only one floor that Thor refused to give me a tour of.  He even showed me the detention floor, but refused to show me one of the residential floors.  Any idea why that would be?” He asked you far too innocently.  

Your giggled continued and he seemed to eat them up.  The joy of an Omega was like candy for an Alpha. “Would that happen to be floor 20?” You asked with just as much innocence.  Or it would’ve been just as much innocence if you hadn’t been laughing so hard.

Loki nodded.  “That very one,” he agreed with a pout.  

“That would be my floor.  Would you like to see it?” You asked. 

He lit up like a little boy at Christmas.  “I’d love to!” He said brightly.  Of course, he’d just gotten you to invite him to your private space, to your space in the tower that was safe from any Alpha, anyone you didn’t want to be there.

For him, you didn’t mind.  

You took his hand in yours and led him to the elevator.  He looked surprised at the contact and gave you a growl-purr of approval.  It felt so natural to be with him, like you’d known him forever, even though you’d only met him that day.  You smiled up at him and dragged him into the elevator.  “Come along, Alpha,” you told him brightly.

He chuckled.  “You can call me by my name, Elskling,” he reminded you.  

You pushed the floor button in the elevator and the doors closed. You looked up at him and knew you had to give him an explanation.  “But… you’ve given me a nickname.  That means we’re friends.  But I don’t have one for you…” you explained softly, sheepishly.  You didn’t know him well enough to give him a nickname yet.  

Loki smiled and his light purple blush remained.  “You… wish to give me a nickname?” He asked.

You tilted your head.  “Haven’t you had one before?”

He shook his head.  “Not since I was a small child and Thor couldn’t pronounce my name properly.  He called me ‘Lo’.  To be fair, I couldn’t pronounce his either, so I called him ‘Or until I could,” he said, his expression fond over the memory.  

“Then I’ll have to come up with a good one for you,” you told him and squeezed his hand. 

“I look forward to it,” 

You stepped out of the elevator when the doors opened again and led Loki onto your floor.  Then to the door to your apartment.  “Most of my floor is my apartment.  The other door is an Omega room,” you explained as you placed your hand on the lock for Jarvis to let you in.

“What is an Omega room?” He asked, watching curiously as the door unlocked for you.

“It’s a safe room for an Omega in heat,” you replied. “Don’t you have those back home?” You didn’t know much about Asgard and you were desperate to learn more.  You could see that Loki was eager to tell you about his home, just as eager as you were to learn about it.  

He shook his head. “No.  We’ve never had a need to lock our Omegas away.  If an unclaimed Omega goes into heat, one of the Alphas will help them through it.  It is the duty of an Alpha to see them through their heat.  An Alpha who sees an Omega through her heat isn’t necessarily meant to become her lover.  That only happens when there’s a strong bond between them beforehand.  Most of the time, after he rises from the bed, he may become a valued friend or no more than a soft memory.  He cares about her - he has to care to keep her safe - but there can be a big difference between caring for an Omega because she is an Omega and loving an Omega because you cherish her as a person.” You’d heard of such a duty before.  That’s how the system was supposed to work on Earth too, but… there were too many times where it had gotten corrupted, where the Alphas took advantage of Omegas’ weakness when they were in heat.  

“Have you performed such a duty?” You couldn’t help asking, too curious for your own good.  

Loki inclined his head.  “I have,” he wasn’t ashamed by it, or proud of any conquests.  It was just a fact.  “It was my duty as an Alpha to see them through safely,” that was all there was to it.  A duty, nothing more.  

You felt that things were different with you.  He wanted to get to know you.

So you let him into your private space.  

He stepped into your apartment and looked around with curious eyes, evaluating your tastes and decorations.  You’d made it home since you’d moved in.  The team was always doting on you and taking you out shopping and to buy more knickknacks and decorations, more things to make this place your home.  You showed him the living room, your library, which he looked over with interest, evaluating your taste in books, your little kitchen, and even let him peek into your bedroom.  

“What’s in there?” He asked at the door to your den.

You blushed.  “My… den,” you said softly and lowered your eyes.  Some Alphas didn’t understand an Omega’s need for a den, for a comfortable fluffy dark place to feel safe from the outside world.  

“May I see it?” He asked gently, carefully.  He wanted to know all about you, and seemed to sense that this was important. 

You nodded and hesitantly opened the door.  It was important for him to see.  

Your den was only lit with fairy lights and was a fort of pillows and blankets and stuffed animals.  Loki smiled fondly when he saw the comfortable safe space.  

“It’s lovely, Elskling.  Though it appears to be missing something,” he said too innocently.  

You raised an eyebrow and looked up at him confused.  It was the best den you’d ever had.  “Missing what?”

“This,” he said and gestured.  In your den appeared a giant teddy bear that was bigger than you with Loki’s trademark golden horned helmet on its head.  It was absolutely perfect and you would be able to curl up safely in its arms.

You lit up in delight.  “It’s perfect!” You told him and glomped him, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly and nuzzling close.  

His arms went around you automatically, steady and strong as he held you to him.  “You’re welcome, Elskling,” he growl-purred in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. 

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens one-shot “At the End” (Rated PG)

Summary: When the angels and demons finally succeed in having their war, there's only one thing that Aziraphale and Crowley can do with the time Earth has left...

Say goodbye to their home. (1408 words)

Notes: I wrote this hoping I would be accepted into a zine that ended up being canceled. The theme was basically what happens after Armageddon.

Read on AO3.

"Wot do you think you'll miss most about Earth?"

"Really, my dear?" Aziraphale clicks his tongue in disgust, but he can't bring himself to look away from the chaos ensuing below them to berate his companion properly. "What a question to ask at a time like this!"

"I think this is the perfect time to ask that question," Crowley says, but without his teasing edge. He offers it sympathetically. They both have a similar connection to this planet, had an investment in it thriving, but Crowley feels Aziraphale's heart breaking more than his. "When you lose something, you mourn it."

"It's not entirely lost! N-not yet." Aziraphale chokes around the words. Even though they leave his mouth passionately, he knows he has sinned by saying them. 

Not lost yet may be the biggest lie he's ever told. 

The first few hours had been soul-crushing. 

The moment Holy rays broke through the clouds and shone down from above, ethereal voices announcing the arrival of God's angelic army, a flock of the faithful came out in droves to greet them. They prayed, sang joyously, raised their voices to the Heavens, invoked every one of God's Holy monickers. It should have been a huge stroke to Her ego... if She had been paying attention.

From Aziraphale and Crowley's perch atop St. Paul's Cathedral, that doesn't appear to be the case.

Those God-fearing mortals were the first to get trodden underfoot as angels barreled over them to confront their enemy - an extremely vulgar and unnecessary display when one considers that angelic footsoldiers can fly.

Hordes of evil-doers emerged from hiding as well, in lesser, but equally exuberant, numbers. They seemed suspiciously more eager for the fight, proving that those who call themselves 'Christian' might outnumber worshippers of Lucifer, but demons had their zealots better prepared for what the end of times would actually entail.

Either way, it didn't matter.

Those humans willing to spill blood at the drop of a hat, even their own, were used as cannon fodder against a foe they couldn't possibly hope to defeat. Within seconds, thousands lay dead on the streets of London and, Aziraphale suspected, all over the world.

For their part, Aziraphale and Crowley refused to join the battle, but no one paid them a lick of attention. An angel cavorting with a demon was no longer an issue. They could finally do as they pleased without fear of retribution, albeit on a planet whose hours were numbered.

"I would have to say I'm going to miss my car," Crowley continues, provoking conversation in an effort to allay his angel's anxiety. "And my flat. And alcohol. Hell's bells am I going to miss alcohol."

"Pity we don't have some now. I think a hull full would find itself useful," Aziraphale adds in a weak attempt at humor.

"Wot about you? Will you miss the food? Your bookshop?"

Aziraphale sighs. "Humanity."

Crowley raises a brow. "Humanity?"

"Yes. Without humanity, the rest of it wouldn't have been possible." Aziraphale scans the carnage below, trying not to focus for too long on any one thing... or any one person. He's already seen too many faces he recognizes, twisted from agony. "Without humanity, it wouldn't have meant anything."

"I suppose."

A tortured voice rings out, but it's snuffed out quickly. Aziraphale doesn't know which side does it, but he shakes his head in shame all the same. “I thought She’d show them mercy. I thought that, in the end, She’d come through. Spare them. That She wouldn't allow them to suffer as bystanders in all of this.”

“I hate to be the one to say I told you so, but… ”

“Then don’t, my dear.” Aziraphale reaches out and takes Crowley's hand, pleading wordlessly for him to stop, but also needing him for comfort. “Where is She? Where has She gone? Why has She abandoned them?”

"You've been asking that question for generations. I would think, by now, you'd know the answer."

"But I don't. Perhaps I should... " Aziraphale swallows heavily, his attention pulled to the skies by a streak of gold, then one of violet, passing overhead. "They know," he spits bitterly. Crowley follows his angel's gaze to the trails above them, one which he assumes must be Gabriel's. "She's obviously told them."

"Perhaps not," Crowley says, not in an attempt to defend Her, but to soothe his angel. "Just like last time, they're doing wot they think is right. Following wot they believe."

"And what do they believe? I don't know! They've never told me!"

"You'd think you'd all be on the same page. I mean, there's a book about it and all."

Aziraphale scoffs at that. "I think you and I both know that the archangels, Gabriel in particular, have never held any stock in books. Books are primitive, human things. They have nothing to do with angels. Not even the Bible... " A host more gold streaks zip by, and Aziraphale's words trail off into nothingness. Of all the books in Aziraphale's collection, his Bibles have always been his favorites. And not just the misprinted ones. The words inside gave him comfort, especially during those long stretches when he didn't hear from God at all. Though written by man, they were imparted by Her (if he overlooked the dodgy editing). 

But they're gone. Not a single one remains, not even in the church where they stand, its insides crackling, burning beneath their feet.

Earth had become Aziraphale's Eden. Now, so many things he held dear are disappearing before his eyes.

Crowley squeezes the hand holding his. "Come, my love. It’s time to leave the garden.”

Aziraphale's eyes snap his way. They linger on his face for a moment, then drop to their clasped hands. “6000 years on this planet and you choose today of all days to call me your love?”

“I'm sorry." Crowley inches closer, lifts Aziraphale's hand to his mouth and kisses it. "I really am. I should have said it sooner. But I’m going to take you to a place where I’ll say it every day. I promise.” He wraps an arm around his angel's shoulders, gently urging Aziraphale to leave before the battle brewing, showing no sign of slowing down until it has consumed every last brick, every last breath of air, swallows them, too.

But Aziraphale hesitates. "C-can't we take them with us?" He gestures down to a tattered group of frightened survivors - a shivering young woman, no older than twenty-five if she's a day, and three children, all under the age of ten - huddled in a narrow crevice created by a metal door off its hinges, sheltering them among the rubble of the church's ruined stairs. 

They've found themselves a decent hideaway, Aziraphale thinks. But he knows they're simply delaying the inevitable. They'll be found out before too long, become collateral damage.

Like everyone else.

"We can't just leave them to die, Crowley."

"We have no other choice." Crowley's need to escape intensifies as he watches the poor humans, tastes their fear rise with the heat of the flames. "Besides, perhaps they'll pull through. You never know. Humans have always been resourceful. They might find a way." 

"Do you honestly think so?"

"Yes," Crowley lies. He would give his angel anything in the universe, anything within his power. He's trying to give him faith.

Because he can't give him this. 

They can't save anyone but themselves.

Crowley turns Aziraphale away, blocks his view by unfurling his dark wings, ready to lift his angel into the air on his own if Aziraphale refuses. "I'm sorry, my love. We must leave them behind."

Aziraphale relents, unfurling his own white wings and heading for the upper atmosphere, watery eyes focused on the where in front of him and not the destruction behind him, with Crowley's shard of hope keeping his heart pinned in place. 

Crowley should do the same. Ignorance is bliss, after all. But like Lot's wife, Crowley peeks behind him one last time to say goodbye to this place that has been his home for most of his existence. 

It was a wonderful existence, but mostly because he had Aziraphale there to muddle through with him.

At least Crowley will still have him when all is said and done.

The last thing Crowley sees before they breach the clouds is St. Paul's Cathedral crumble in on itself, leaving behind a mound of ash.

And nothing more.

[bbygrace]

some ‘essay’ on how ghosts portrays death and my predictions on how each ghost may have died

i did mention parts of this in a little rant i did a few weeks ago but i thought id put my thoughts and observations into a more cohesive form and seeing as in-depth english gcse level essays are becoming popular in the ghosts tag i thought i might as well join in

‘essay’ starts below the cut

i think that i might’ve mentioned before that ghosts does a very good job of making light of death, while also keeping the sadness and seriousness of it. the best example for this is probably pat’s death. pat’s entire concept as a basic form is comedic in itself: he is a scoutmaster who was accidentally shot dead by an 8 year old with an arrow. when we see his death play out in the show most peoples immediate reaction is to laugh. his death was humorous. the way he gets shot in the middle of talking about how dangerous archery can be, the way the kid who did it (keith) tried to cover it up by passing the bow to another scout, pat’s mumbling about getting one of the kids to drive him home as he fumbles to find his keys - these are all comedic elements of his death. it’s supposed to be funny. however, at the same time, his death is still sad, especially when you consider the fact that he died in front of a group of children. this is made even sadder when we see how much pat’s death affected keith even into his adulthood. while pat frantically searching for his keys with his massive keychains is funny, there was also the sad element to it which was the panic he was experiencing. he knew he was going to die, but he still had a little bit of hope that he could manage to get home and see carol one last time. there’s a perfect mix of both the light and dark of death. it’s funny because its a comedy show, but its also sad because its death, which is one of the major themes of the show. we know that pat’s death still negatively affected him. as far as we know, all the ghosts’ deaths affected them negatively (with the exception of some ghosts, specifically kitty, whose death hasn’t been explored in the slightest, so we dont know how it affected/affects her), some more than others. while pat was upset by his death and shows signs of trauma from it, he isn’t nearly as affected as mary, for example, perhaps because his death was relatively quick and/or because he just adapts and overcomes (most) things quickly. all the other ghosts’ deaths that we know of have been portrayed the same way as pat’s, with both the comedic and upsetting sides being shown. this reflects the way the ghosts themselves feel about death. they’ve all been dead for a long time, and having already experienced death, they’re no longer scared by it. they may be traumatised by it, but as it’s already happened and they’ve all experienced it, they can relate and unite over it. a few examples of when this is seen when they’re placing bets on whether a subject will stay or go and pat saying ‘i’m dead, you’ll be dead soon’. this suggests that they have a relatively light view of death as a whole concept, and the thing they’re sensitive to is their own particular deaths.

how the other ghosts’ deaths apply to this

thomas’ death was sad - the way he died alone, waiting for isabelle, the whole scandal with francis and the way he basically caused thomas to die and the fact that thomas went without knowing this for centuries. however, there were also comedic elements to his death, mostly centered around the circumstances surrounding the duel, like his awkwardness when challenging the officer to the duel, the way he (unknowingly) died partly because of mary shelley and the pigeon he shot and then proceeded to apologise to as he was dying. thomas’ death in itself - dying from being shot in a duel - isn’t exactly funny or ridiculous, but the circumstances surrounding it and the events leading up to it are. almost everything that led up to his death was humorous, mostly due to the way the other ghosts told it, his awkwardness and how different the reality of his death was to this false, dramatised version that he had made up to help him feel better about it, and to try and impress alison. the mood then gradually decreases until he actually dies and kitty says ‘he waited and waited, but she never came.’ we then end up at the lowest, saddest point of his demise - him dying alone, waiting for isabelle. it then rises again when we see thomas’ concerned reaction to becoming a ghost. the atmosphere flows from funny to serious very smoothly, and a lot of the time its a mixture of both.

as for fanny, the comedic aspect of her death was her catching her husband cheating and then being pushed out of the window with the rest of the ghosts watching it all go down. it’s a funny thing to picture. however, because it was a death, it was still sad. it still affected her negatively. she still kept george’s secret for all those years. she was murdered by her husband, someone who should’ve loved her and looked after her - she trusted him and he abused that trust. we see multiple times that she’s bitter over the fact that he cheated on her and she takes that out on other people, for example, she’s angry at the fact that the wedding is a lesbian wedding in s2e6. while this is partly due to her upbringing and the time she lived in, her views on homosexuality were also heavily affected by the fact she walked in on her husband cheating on her with two men. fanny’s acceptance that people should be allowed to love who they want after talking to humphrey is a huge development in her character and how she copes with her death. in the scenes during and following her conversation with humphrey, we see her death and the effects it had on her portrayed in the most serious way they had been so far. up until that point, her death was referenced almost purely comedically, with the sadder aspects being deeper within the writing. they become more apparent when really considering what that must have been like for her and when looking at how it affected her.

my predictions for the other ghosts’ deaths based on this

every example of a death we have seen so far has been ridiculous, funny or ironic in some way, whether that be the actual cause of death or the events leading up to it. because of this, i believe the rest of the ghosts’ deaths will have a comedic element to them.

starting with robin, i have no strong ideas on how he died. a lot of people seem to think that he was struck by lightning due to his powers. i think that this is a solid idea and i can see it working, but i think he also could have possibly died of a disease or by being crushed by something like a boulder or a mammoth or something. i don’t really know if his cause of death would be particularly funny, i think instead that his reaction and behaviour/events leading up to his demise will be the comedic aspect, with the sad part being that he was alone in death, with no one to talk to for thousands of years, as far as we know.

as for humphrey, once again i don’t think his actual cause of death would be the comedic part, unless it was botched by an inexperienced executioner maybe. i think he was probably executed for a humorous reason. he seems like he was probably a bit of a dick in life so i wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case.

the same applies for mary - i think she was probably executed for a seemingly insignificant reason, because women could be accused of witchcraft for doing pretty much anything at the time. however, she is still deeply traumatised by her death and is only starting to come to terms with it, so i doubt her death would be particularly funny. her death in itself (being burnt at the stake) almost definitely won’t be the comedic part.

i’m almost certain kitty’s death was her sister’s fault. we know how poorly she treated her and we know that her death was caused by someone else. i think the sadder perspective of kitty’s death will be her naivety and trust that she had and still has for her sister, despite the awful mistreatment she received from her. she didn’t know she was being mistreated by her - she just thought that was the way all friends/sisters were and as long as she was making other people happy then she was happy too. i think she was most likely poisoned (which would explain the vomit thing that happens in s2e6) or she died from exposure to the elements due to being left outside, probably while playing a game. as we know next to nothing about how she died or how she feels about her death, i don’t know what could be funny about it, so i’m going to assume that it could also be related to her naivety and innocence, but in a different way. it may seem dark, but she probably died smiling, without really knowing what was going on. her reaction to her death and her attitude and behaviour leading up to it will most likely be comedic, unless she was murdered in an ironic or obscure way.

every time i try to even begin to figure out how the captain died i feel like clawing my brains out. i literally have no idea how he possibly could’ve died. perhaps his cause of death was unusual or interesting and that’s why its so hard to figure out - maybe it’s just incredibly obscure. i can see both the circumstances surrounding his death and the cause of his death having the possibility of being comedic. maybe his death was embarrassing and that’s why he hasn’t talked about it, because he’s ashamed and wants to pretend it didn’t happen. we know he does this already with his sexuality: he doesn’t want to think about it or acknowledge it so he pretends it doesn’t exist, because if it doesn’t exist then he doesn’t have to worry about it, and he could be doing the same thing in regards to his demise. tom kingsley, the director, said on twitter that his ribbons are upside down for a reason. i don’t know if this is related to his death or not, but my guesses are that it probably is as if they were applied long before his death he probably would’ve fixed them. my thoughts are that they were probably put on him either by himself as he was dying and they were put upside down by mistake and he didn’t have enough time to fix them/he wasn’t in a good enough state to put them on properly, or that they were put on his uniform by someone else. i think his death definitely will have a lot of sad tones to it, but i don’t think it’ll be entirely negative, especially considering how he acts under stress.

i don’t think i even have to talk about what the comedic aspect of julian’s death would be. this also makes it a little harder to figure out what the sad aspect of it was, apart from the fact he died. maybe it could be the way he was viewed by the public and the way he died before he could do anything to improve his image, but, judging by how he acts in death, he probably wouldn’t have even thought of trying to change for the better in his lifetime, but i could be wrong. the negative side of his death will probably be related to his public image and how he was the ideal ‘disgraced MP’ stereotype and that’s pretty much all he was known for. as for how he died, asphyxiation, heart attack or something drug-related seem to be the most plausible ideas.

i’m not really sure how this theory applies to the plague ghosts, i guess they’re some sort of exception. their deaths weren’t particularly comedic or sad. i can’t really see any way for their deaths to be written the same way the others are, as the way they died was very common and hard to make particularly funny or sad, especially both simultaneously.

conclusion

basically, i think death is portrayed and written very effectively in ghosts. the show lets you know that you’re allowed to laugh, it’s supposed to be funny. it’s a comedy show, after all, and these are fictional characters. at the same time, you’re being told you’re allowed to cry. the show is sad at times cough cough, s2e3, cough cough, because these characters have experienced sad things like the person they’re deeply in love with leaving them before they even have a chance to develop their relationship or make sense of their own feelings, most notably death. death is sad so of course that’s going to be conveyed in the show. it’s almost impossible to make a death not sad, especially considering the likeableness of most of the characters except julian. however, death can also be taken lightly in the context of the show as the whole point is that they’re dead, we wouldn’t have ghosts if they were alive. they died years before episode 1 took place. it’s already happened, but it hasn’t been dealt with completely, and thats where the sadness comes in. they’re still processing and dealing with the trauma that came with their deaths. both sides of the event are shown, because the characters feel both good and bad about their deaths. they feel bad about it because of everything they lost and the way they died and the circumstances of their deaths but they also have positive feelings surrounding their deaths because of the situation they’re currently in. they can kind of just do whatever they want (as far as their physical boundaries allow them to) without consequences, because what can happen? they’re dead! they also have bonds with each other and, now that alison and mike are there, they have something to keep them occupied and aware of how things have changed since they were alive. every cloud has a silver lining and all that.

[batarella]

The Commander - Part 5 (Arkham Knight x Reader)

ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS ABOARD THE SMUT TRAIN. YA’LL NASTIES NEED A BREAK FROM ALL THE SMUT. TODAY I PRESENT SOME ACTION, ANGST, MORE BACKSTORY, AND FLUFFFFFFFFFF

WORDS: 3034 (yeah they’re getting longer) WARNINGS: A LIL BIT OF FLUFF AT THE END. MOSTLY ANGST.

MASTERLIST

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

The Arkham Knight couldn’t be human. He only ever spoke in the fewest words. And when he did, it was either in the coldest indifference, annoyance, or anger. Mostly in anger. His identity, his past, what he liked and didn’t liked, no one knew about.

In fact, the Commander seen the most about him out of everyone the Knight meets in the Militia. And she doesn’t even know if he had a real name. He was only addressed to as the Knight, and his anger had been built up since he was very young, the Commander deduced. His remarks came out of him like it was in his nature to be an asshole at times. But she could tell it had evolved overtime. Like something brought out the worst of him and now he was this dark, cynical entity no one can touch.

Though she wasn’t any different, basically torn out of her mother’s womb and brought to a firing range.

Gotham City was never kind to her. And her to Gotham. They’d reached the top of a medium rise apartment building, one that stood directly across some kind of event that had people flocking to the edges of the street. The Arkham Knight hid his armor under a large red hoodie, making him look bigger than he already was. He had his hood on over a cap, so no one could see his face. Beside him was Militia Commander Y/N. She had on a bomber jacket and some loose cargo pants to hide her own suit.

They eyed the GCPD police car parked just outside the event grounds, and about three policemen scattered about to maintain its order. One of them was leaning against the hood of the car. The second one, a very heavy man, was standing right in front of the crowd at the stage. The third was at the farthest, making rounds around the perimeter.

The Knight watched the three move, blurring out the cheering crowd and the noises they made. The Commander waited, patiently.

The Arkham Knight’s voice was course. “Go.”

She moved fast, leaping from the top of the roof down its rusty fire escape. Her feet landed from ladder to ladder until it splashed onto a puddle left over from last night’s rain. Commander Y/N made her way down the crowd, keeping her head low as she practically disappeared.

She could only fire from this distance. The Commander had three shots, and a special gun that wrapped around her wrist. All she had to do was press the button on her thumb, and it would fire just as good as any pistol.

Except this one fired more than just bullets, and it was more silent than even a whisper.

One on the car to her right, one at the stage in front, and one at the far back.

At the corner of her eye, she saw the Knight behind the crowd, his hood covering more than half his face. His eyes were on her, waiting.

He nodded.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

She raised her arm, staring to pull her hair to a tie. It pointed right at her right and she fired.

One.

She turned, so casually it was like the sun had just caught her eyes. Her arm facing behind her, she fired again.

Two.

Then her hair was in a ponytail, she smoothed it, then brought her arms to her front. Just narrowly missing a passerby, she fired.

Three.

Done. She caught the Knight’s eye. Three trackers landed right at the three policemen’s communication devices peeking just outside their pockets. It was too small to even make out, but the Knight’s hacking device lit up, and they were online.

He toyed with the device, small enough to fit his pocket. The Knight looked like he was just using his phone, even when it wasn’t a good idea to do so in such a crowd. Commander Y/N kept on the lookout, but none of the policemen seem to be bothered.

Hurry up. The Knight continued to fidget. Y/N squeezed on her wrist gun, ready to fire at any threat. A full minute had passed and the Knight threw his head back. He nodded at her. They’d done it.

They hacked GCPD.

Just those three trackers were enough to trace the full source of any communication network GCPD had used. When the night comes, they’ll be ahead of these men by a mile.

Though GCPD was never the real threat.

Commander Y/N nodded back and walked toward the Knight. He handed her the hacking device, which was lit in green.

“Send it to intelligence when we’re back.”

“Yes sir,” she said, stuffing it into her pocket.

Then the Knight looked behind her, at the crowd and the stage in front. The noise had grown louder and a man, the billionaire Bruce Wayne walked to the podium, a bright smile on his handsome face as he spoke.

“Come on,” she said to the Knight. “Slade’s sent the first of our Diamondbacks.”

It took a while for him to look away, though the Knight didn’t look like he wanted to stick around to any more of the festivities. She walked right beside him, her hands relaxed to her side while the Knight kept his deep in his pockets. The sky looked just about as gloomy as the Knight’s expression, and it was freezing. No one looked at them as they turned into an alleyway.

“Just this one?”

“If you’re satisfied with it, another batch arrives tomorrow.”

Then they turned for an abandoned entrance into Gotham’s subway system. It was covered in wooden planks. The Knight tore it off with his bare hands. They jumped in, trying to ignore the smell, as they walked deeper into the tunnels. They were met with a closed gate, and a large circular scanner right at the center. The Knight pressed his palm against it and the gate opened.

The walked father in, the Knight took off his hoodie, then his pants, then he brought out his visor and placed it over his head. “We’re calling Slade.”

The Commander unzipped her jacket, then her loose pants took off to reveal the tighter one in her suit. It was even colder under the tunnels, but she didn’t falter. She followed closely by the Knight’s side, jumping over the old subway station’s portals down to the railway.

Just as they were met with a large figure covered by a dirty white cloth, the Knight pulled out a device from his bag.

It didn’t take long for Slade to answer. He was a holograph, his clothed mask floating above the screen laid flat with the Knight’s hand.

“Where is it?”

“Right here,” The Knight pointed the device to the covered drone. “Commander.”

Commander Y/N jumped to the railway and pulled the cloth off, revealing the finally finished, ready to deploy Diamondback Drone.

“She’s a good lookin’ piece of boom, wouldn’t you say?” Slade’s voice echoed into the tunnels. “Commander Y/N, why don’t you go test it out?”

She climbed up its side. “Were the steering and thrust issues worked out?” said the Knight.

“Nope.”

“Slade, I told you maneuverability and speed are key if these are going to have a chance against his weaponry.”

“Commander, fire at the wall.”

The Commander grabbed hold of its missile launcher and fired.

And it was more like a bomb than a missile, and several shots of it. It tore off what was left of the abandoned cement, spreading its fire around the railway and leaving large holes big enough for a man to crawl in on its walls.

Commander Y/N didn’t look flustered. She wiped the flash of sweat off her forehead and turned to the Knight, who stared intently at the destroyed walls. “Say the word, and I’ll send out a hundred of these. More than enough to take the bastard down.

“More than enough to send your demons free,” Slade said. The Knight seemed preoccupied, and he didn’t flinch when the Commander jumped off the tank.

“Commander Y/N,” Slade said as she approached the Knight’s side. “I’m about to start the final phase of our men’s training.”

“Final phase?”

“I have my standards, you have yours. The way you train these men are different from mine. It shouldn’t take more than a week.”

Commander Y/N nodded, surprised Slade didn’t have to insult her when they’d constantly have to fight over the Knight’s graces when it comes to their preferences.

“Make sure they’re ready for anything he has to throw at us, Slade,” he said to the hologram. Then Slade was gone, and the tunnel seemed emptier with the fires burning out.

The Commander placed her hand on the drone’s side. “It fired three rounds at a time, and its fast. Exactly like the Rattler but it will be harder to deflect.”

“Will that be enough?”

She goes to the front, inspects the damage and looks into the holes. She reaches in, but the missiles have reached too far back. “It should be. This ones’ harder to destroy than all our Rattler drones. Three sensor arrays and a more durable shield over its optics.”

The Knight turned to her as she went on.

“But it doesn’t lock onto its target. The Cobra drones would be a better investment. Even if we had half the number of Rattlers, the Cobras won't have Batman driving around any of the streets without having to encounter one or two.”

“We have enough of those.”

“Never enough to cover even one of the islands by themselves, especially when no 60 mm canon can penetrate its shell. These ones have a larger target right at its sensors.”

The Knight stood directly in front of the drone’s sensor array, with the Commander, running her hands on the right side.

“How old are you?”

The Commander stopped, but didn’t allow herself to flinch. She looked at the Knight puzzlingly and narrowed her eyebrows.

“You know just as much as Slade does.”

“More,” she interrupted. “I know more.”

“Answer my question.”

“What difference does it make?” The Commander sighed, as she circled the tank, keeping her hand to its side. The Knight kept his distance, but followed her. His robotic voice made his questions seem more threatening than personal. She was at the other side, to the left of the drone, when she spoke.

“Twenty-one.”

The Knight came up to the corner, and the Commander reached the front. She turned again and avoided the look on his visor.

“How old were you when you knew how to fire a tank?”

She kept her voice low. This was worse than being screamed at. “Fifteen.”

The Knight didn’t show his surprise, but his silence spoke the volumes for him. “Who trained you?”

“My uncle.”

“When did he start training you?”

“When did this become an interrogation?”

The Knight stopped, and so did the Commander. The stood at either sides of the drone, right at its hood. She stared at him, and he stared back.

“I want to know how you were bred into… this.”

“I fired my first gun when I was five and hit my first target with a rifle when I was seven.” Her voice was expressionless, like he had told these to herself more than to anyone else.

“Your uncle was quite the mercenary.”

“Oh, he was the best,” she said. “But he killed his first target at twenty-two. I was sixteen.”

That… didn’t impress him as much as it saddened him.

“I didn’t have any business being a child. He turned me into this… machine,” she brought her hands to the hood of the tank. “One that just can't miss a single target even if I wanted to.”

“And you turned to sex to air it out.”

The Commander looked up, almost glaring at him. Why the fuck was he asking these questions.

“I’ve only had it a few times,” she said, walking to his side. Then she leaned in, even closer to the Knight. He had his head slightly turned to her when she spoke. “I’ve had it with you the most.”

The Knight didn’t say anything when she walked by him and headed for the exit, grabbing her own bag from the floor. The Knight quietly followed, getting his clothes back out and stuffing his visor inside before they stepped out the subway station.

“We have about three hours,” she told him as they walked down the sidewalk. The noises sank in and she spoke louder. “Then we head for the Batcave before he goes out for patrol, which should be around 10.”

The Knight placed his cap on his head, then pulled his hoodie up. They turned to a corner, back to where the rally had taken place, except the people had left and the sun had started to set. They walked to their motorcycles. “We can wait it out in the cave.”

The Knight approached his bike, but watched as Y/N grabbed her helmet and started the engine. “Wait.”

Commander Y/N stopped.

He took his out his comms, fidgeted with the device and held the earpiece to his ear. It took a while, then the person on the other line answered.

“Slade,” he said. “I’ll have to spend another night in Gotham.”

He turned around, walking farther away so she wouldn’t be staring at him while he talked.

“I’ll be back in less than 48 hours. And it’s a go on the Diamondback, but have more Cobra Drones as well.”

She heard Slade’s voice for a moment. “As much as you can,” the Knight finished. He turned off his comms, then went for his bike.

“Follow me,” he said, taking his hat off and putting on his helmet.

They drove off, and they were going further and further away from where their target supposedly is. The bikes buzzed through, her driving closely at his tail until they’d reached a street littered with no more than five people.

And the buildings were abandoned, boarded up the front entrance. The Commander saw a few homeless men by the alleys, but it didn’t even look like thugs frequented the area. She followed him as they parked their bikes near a dumpster at the back of the building.

“Where are we?”

“We need to go up the fire exit.” The Knight pulled down the ladder. “I used to live here.”

“Go up the third floor, then go in through the window. Stay there. I’ll come back.”

The Commander was still so confused, even as the Knight had started his bike again and drove off.

Xxxxxx

His place was… small.

It must have been years, because there was enough dust to on the surfaces to cause tears in her eyes. Timidly, she sat on the bed. There was only one. Twin size. Pushed up against the wall. He had a desk adjacent to it, and on the other side, the window she came in through. Other than the cramped up bathroom and a closet, that was practically it in his apartment.

But the Knight was still so young. She estimated this place to have been abandoned for five to seven years. If that was the case, he should have been in his early teens, living alone without a parent. Was she right?

She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Minutes later, she heard the ladders of the fire exit screech. The Knight walked in.

He was holding two pizza boxes.

“Dinner,” he said. “Bottoms up.”

The commander suddenly felt the surge in her stomach. She’d forgotten to eat. She stood, opened a box and helped herself with a slice.

“Why are we here?”

The Knight ignored her and went to the bathroom. It took a while, probably because he had to clean it before even using it. When he stepped out, he looked less bulky. His armor was placed inside his duffel bag which he placed on the floor, before grabbing a slice from the box and digging in.

It was… unusual. To say the least. Y/N’s almost never seen the Knight talk outside the subject of the militia, let alone eat. He leaned his back against the desk, looking at her as he took a big bite. They ate quietly, not even taking a seat when they finished through the two boxes before the sun had fully set.

She slumped back on the bed. “We should head out by now.”

The Knight closed the boxes and threw them in the trash. Then he leaned on the desk, arms over his chest. He didn’t look at her.

“We’re staying here for the night, then we head for the cave tomorrow at dusk.”

“What are we supposed to do by then?”

The Knight licked his lips.

“I know you don’t sleep,” he said. “Back in the barracks.”

“Yes I do.”

“You sleep almost an hour a day,” he cocked his jaw. “Every single day.”

The Commander couldn’t even fathom his concern. This was all too much. “I’m fine.”

“You have tonight, and the whole day tomorrow. I won't wake you up. You sleep as much as you can. When we go back to South America you’ll never catch a break.”

She grew silent and licked her teeth.

“Where will you sleep?”

The Knight stood from the desk, went to his closet and fished out a sheet and a pillow. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”

Fucking hell.

His concern just made her all the more uncomfortable. Just yesterday, you couldn’t tell the man apart from an AI robot.

And the night grew darker. She laid on her back, the sheet dusted off shielding her off from the cold. The Knight faced away from her and laid flat on the carpet. His chest rose a steady beat. But he was awake.

“Can you tell me your name?” she asked. “And how old you are?”

He was startled, but he didn’t turn to look at her. An answer wasn’t the least bit expected. Never from him. But surprisingly, she heard his voice, low enough for it to be easily missed.

“Twenty-two.”

And that was all he said. She turned facing the wall and closed her eyes.

 I LOVE YOU ALL. LEAVE A COMMENT IF YOU CAN. I’D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS

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THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

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  Taglist: @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki @everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208 @offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal @mythicbitchx @supremehaunter

[red-sector-rivendell]

media reccs? 👀 since apparently you are a man of good taste?

Wow thank you 😏 I have a masterlist of movies that have changed me I often recommend to people, I'll just copy and paste here with quick synopses lol, it's kinda long. I'm not super great at writing synopses tho so bear with me

Dead Poets Society (1989)

One of my favorite movies of all time and a total classic. It's about a group of boys at a strict boarding school who are inspired by their new English teacher (played by Robin Williams) to think for themselves and chase their dreams. This movie literally changed my life lol

Quadrophenia (1979)

This movie is based off of the story behind the concept album by The Who of the same name. It follow the life of a young man named Jimmy who is in a gang called the Mods. Theres this huge gang war between them and the Rockers (I think that's their name, it's been a while since i watched it) and Jimmy questions his beliefs about coming-of-age and his values in life throughout the film

Cabaret (1972)

Based off of the Broadway musical of the same name, this movie is about a British man who moves to Germany during the beginning of the rise of Nazis. He meets a woman who basically turns his world upside down, and it follows their love affair and sexuality and anti-semitism, and it's hilarious and heart wrenching and a beautiful movie

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

This is a super trippy romance film. Basically in the universe of this movie, theres a technology that is developed that can delete memories of an entire person from your mind while you are in a dream-like state, and the main character of this movie (played by Jim Carrey) decides to undergo the procedure after a bad breakup. Its soooo good I highly recommend this movie

It's Such a Beautiful Day (2012)

This is an animated film about a man named Bill who is going through brain cancer. Its told from the perspective of an unnamed narrator essentially communicating everything Bill sees, hears, and experiences. This is the movie that got me into film and it is still a complete masterpiece and one of the most beautiful movies I've ever seen

The Dirties (2013)

Loved this one a lot back in high school, it's been a while since I watched it. This is a film made in Canada about a high schooler named Matt Johnson and his friend Owen who decide to make a short film for their class about them killing the gang at their school that bullies them, and things take a dark turn. It's a hilarious movie and hits pretty close to home for me in a lot of ways haha

Logan's Run (1976)

Great movie, pretty cheesy though so be warned. This is based off a book with the same name, and it takes place in the future where most of humanity is wiped out except for a small society that lives under a domed structure. No one is allowed to leave the dome, and to control overpopulation, no one is allowed to live past the age of 30. It's really bizarre but I love this movie

Donnie Darko (2001)

Pretty sure this was Jake Gyllenhaal's first big hit when he was super young (I think he was like 19 in this movie but I'm not sure) basically about this kid, Donnie Darko, who is somewhat schizophrenic and has a habit of sleepwalking. After one particular incident he has a near-death experience and starts seeing a man in a bunny costume everywhere who makes him do weird stuff. Another pretty trippy movie with a crazy ending

American Psycho (2000)

Honestly I'm sure a few on this list you've probably seen (most likely this one included) but I didnt wanna leave any out because they're all so good. If you haven't seen this, it's about a Wall Street executive named Patrick Bateman who is a materialistic phony by day and a serial killer by night. I tried to read the book but the inner dialogue was really hard to get through lmao. Awesome movie though huge recommend.

Clockwork Orange (1971)

Yet another trippy one. And fuck it's been a long time since I've seen it so I might get some stuff wrong here. But it's basically about this serial rapist guy who hangs out with this group of goons and they all like to go beat up homeless people and shit, but the main character gets captured and has to go through reformation therapy to make him a better person. It's an extremely bizarre movie but soooo good and kind of hilarious lol

Creep (2014)

Of course this is on my list haha. If you haven't seen it yet, it's a horror movie about this freelance film guy who answers an ad on craigslist to help a man with cancer film a movie for his unborn son. And shit gets weird real fast. One of my favorite horror movies ever, I wouldnt say it's super scary but it's fun as fuck

Hereditary (2018)

If I'm being honest, I don't like a lot of big movies made in super recent years and especially not horror movies (mostly because they're all cheap cash grabs with no substance) but this one is an exception for me. Hereditary is fucking masterful in my opinion, legitimately creepy as hell and well-produced and well written. To put the plot as vaguely as possible without spoiling anything, it's about a family (mostly the mother) who go through some crazy fucked up shit. That's literally all I can say without giving anything away. Super good flick, big recommend

Gattaca (1997)

This list isn't in any particular order, and I love all these movies to death, but if I had to rank them this would probably be on the lower end. It's not a bad movie, it's still great but it's just not as life-changing as the other ones lmao. This takes place in the future where genetic modifications have progressed to a point where you can modify your unborn child's DNA to have the perfect baby. This has led to, essentially racial bias against those who never had that procedure when they were born. The main character was not one of these "special" children, but he wants an extremely prestigious job which requires that of the employee. Through the film, he is trying to fake his identity and fool the company into thinking he is one of these perfect people. Still a great film

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)

Johnny Depp, man, he is something else. I LOVE this movie. Based off a true story and a book written by the man who lived it, Hunter S. Thompson, this follows the adventure of the writer and his attorney as they go on a drugged-out, psychedelic romp through Las Vegas with the original intention being to cover a story on a motorcycle race, but things go off the rails as they both terrorize the entire city in a way. Just a fun ride the whole way, a great movie

The Truman Show (1998)

God I'm realizing this list is long as fuck. Don't watch all of these movies, it might take you a lifetime lmao. Anyway, this is a classic Jim Carrey movie and another one you've probably seen. But again, if you haven't, this movie is about a man whose entire life has been fabricated and shot for television without him knowing. Super great, super moving, fantastic film 10 outta 10 I gotta wrap this shit up

A Scanner Darkly (2006)

A lesser known Keanu Reeves movie, but fuck I wish more people have seen this. This is one of my favorite movies of all time, and it's based off a book which is just as amazing. This movie takes place in the near future, where facial recognition technology has progressed wayyy too far, and drugs have gotten to the point of no return. The plot follows a detective who is undercover in a junkie house trying to figure out who is the top of the drug dealing totem pole, but ends up wrapped in the junkie lifestyle a little too deeply. Seriously, I recommend this movie to everyone who asks, it's so damn good

Fight Club (1999)

Another popular one. If you havent seen it, it's based off a book by Chuck Palahniuk following the story of a man (the main character actually doesnt have a name lol) who meets a guy named Tyler Durden who changes his entire perspective on how the world works. They start an underground boxing club together to help themselves and other men blow off steam and get away from the capitalist consumer-centric lifestyle they are forced into. Big twist at the end, great movie five stars on yelp

Harold and Maude (1971)

This is a weird one. Gotta say. It's about a guy in his 20s who meets an old woman at a funeral and falls in love with her. Sounds pretty ok at face value but theres a lot of really strange subplots and a huuuuge twist at the end (one of the subplots being the guy compulsively fakes his suicide to get his mother's attention) big recommend

Polyester (1981)

This one I cant even explain u just have to watch it its fucking bizarre

Fargo (1996)

Ok lightning round on the synopses, this movie is about a man who wants to commit fraud by hiring guys to kidnap his wife so her father can pay them ransom and instead the husband gets the money but everything goes wrong it's really good

Bad Times at the El Royale (2018)

Another modern movie I actually like, last time I watched this I was on shrooms and it was crazy but it's about this hotel right on the border of california and (Nevada I think?) And all these weird people are staying at it and there are twists at every turn and chris hemsworth is a cult leader in it its great

Memento (2000)

GREAT MOVIE GOD PLEASE WATCH THIS ONE it's about a man who develops short term memory loss after witnessing the rape and murder of his wife AND WHEN I SAY THERE ARE TWISTS LIKE EVERY TEN MINUTES I MEAN IT. The film is chronologically backwards, in that the first scene takes place at the end of the story and works back from there in increments of like 5 minutes. Basically each scene is a segment of time that this guy remembers before his memory loss kicks in and he forgets and FUCK it's so good please god watch it

Almost Famous (2000)

This is another one that would probably be low on my ranking but still a great and fun movie, it's about this kid that wants to write articles about rock stars for the rolling stone (based off a true story btw) and he ends up running away to go ride on a tour bus with some band and gets into all types of shenanigans and its great and sad

Parasite (2019)

Another modern movie I love, fuck this is getting too long lmao. Poor family wants to make money and they hatch a scheme to pretend to be bougie and work for this rich family but shit gets weird and everything goes wrong and it's so good (also literally the only film ever that made me speechless afterwards)

Pulp Fiction (1994)

Pretty much lives up to the hype, I totally forgot the plot but it's pretty damn good I remember that lmao

The Warriors (1979)

Fun movie, theres a bunch of teen gangs in New York and the leader of all of em is like "hey we should rally all the gangs together and fuck up the cops so we can rule this city" but then he gets shot by someone in the crowd and the gang The Warriors gets blamed so the whole movie is them running from all the other gangs so they can get back to home base and it's just an all around fun time movie

12 Monkeys (1995)

THIS MOVJE IS CRAZY it takes place in the future where a virus has almost completely wiped humans off the face of the earth so these scientists send this guy back in time to figure out where it came from so they can stop it from ever happening but obviously everything goes wrong and yadda yadda yadda it's amazing

Waking Life (2001)

Gonna preface this by saying this film is definitely not for entertainment, it's kind of an arthouse-type flick. It's the type of movie you have to think really really hard about to watch. The basic plot is the main character is stuck inside his own lucid dream, and is walking around listening to all these characters in his dream talk to him about, idk like the meaning of life and consciousness and shit. It's really good if you're in the mood for that type of thing.

Okay I'm finally done, you probably didnt expect this but I've been meaning to put my movie recommendations on this blog anyway haha. I deleted some just cause it was getting wayyyy too long. If u want a shorter list I can just give u like a top 5 in DMs but there u go have at it, every movie on that list is a banger I swear

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Soldier - Part 15

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, gun violence. 

W/c: 2.9k

A/n: I’m double posting for @kalesrebellion​ because she called me out. So here you go babe. Also, I did an embarassing amount of research trying to come up with the basics for the serum. But I concluded that this is fiction and it doesnt really matter. But if you’re ur a science major and this doesnt make sense please dont come for me lol

There are moments in your life that define you. Moments you look back on after everything and wonder, if you had listened to your gut, maybe it would be different. This was one of those moments. Bucky’s world shattered around him as Natasha’s words rang through his comm. 

“We’ve been compromised, Buck. I’ve been hit. They got Y/n.” Her voice, broken and solemn. 

No. 

Dammit, NO.

This isn't how this was supposed to happen. This was an easy job. Only a few Hydra agents resided in this compound. The whole thing felt like a dream. One he was completely and utterly unprepared to handle. How could he let this happen. He should have been there. 

“Dammit. What's your location? I'm coming to you.” He shouted. His blood began to boil and he heard your heavy breathing on the other side. You were running. “Y/n, please come in. Please, doll. Where are you?” Bucky hated how broken he sounded. He knew the rest of the team could hear his begging, but he didnt care. He couldn't. He just needed to get to you. 

“You always were a fighter. Right till the bitter end.” A man’s muffled voice came through his comm. He didn't recognize it as anyone he knew, but there was something familiar about it. A distant memory he couldn't quite piece together. Before he could speak, your voice broke though, a small whisper shattering his heart and sending him into a blind rage. 

“Bucky” You breathed, choking on a cough. 

“Y/n. I’m coming to you, doll. Don't worry, I've got you. I’m going to get you out of this. Don't worry, I’m coming.” He pleaded, but was only met with static, and then finally silence. The rest of the team kept quiet, waiting for any kind of sign of life from you. When none came, Nat spoke up. 

“Guys, we gotta get out of here. They've set off a security alert, this place is going to blow in three minutes.” Her voice was now back to its usual tone, but Bucky knew better. She was scared, he could hear it.  “ There’s no sign of her out here. She’s just… gone.” He could hear that she was running now.

“Bucky, we gotta go.” Steve spoke from beside him. Bucky’s head snapped to his friend, eyes wide and body still frozen. 

“We can't leave. Not without her.” He all but begged. 

“You heard Natasha, she’s on her way.” He paused, “Nat, you got the files?” He spoke into his earpiece, motioning Bucky to follow him to the entrance they had come through. 

“Yeah, I have them. Thanks for asking by the way. I’m great, two more bullet holes in my gut, but yeah, files are more important.” She scoffed, causing Steve to roll his eyes.  “I’m headed to the entrance right now.”

“No, I’m not leaving without Y/n!” Bucky tried to pull away from Steve, but he was stronger. A fact he would never admit to the guy, his head was already big enough. 

“She’s not here Buck. They wouldn't blow the compound with her in it.” He persisted.

Sam’s voice interjected, “Jet’s fired up, you guys better get the fuck outta there. We have less than a minute.” 

Bucky and Steve ran through the dark hallways together until they almost slammed into Nat’s small frame. He gasped when she appeared in the hollow moonlight. Her face was contorted in pain, something he was all too familiar with. Guilt.

“I lost her. I’m so sorry, it was my job to-” She broke off into a sob. Bucky wanted to agree. Yell that if she was a better agent- a better person his girl would be coming home with them. But he couldn't... This was on him. He knew it was a bad idea to bring you on the mission. He deserved all the blame. 

“She’s not dead. Not yet anyways. But we will be if we don't get out of here.” Steve yelled over the alarms blaring in the hallway. 

Bucky and Nat both nodded, and followed Steve across the field. Before they could reach the jet, the warehouse behind them rumbled before letting out an earth shattering explosion, sending the two of them flying into the ground. Without hesitation, Bucky grabbed Natasha's hand and pulled her from the ground. He wrapped her arm around his shoulder and all but dragged her body onto the jet. 

“Vision’s been alerted we need medical. He’s been staying at a safe house in Munich. We can be there in thirty minutes.” Steve spoke urgently, rifling through the cabinets of the jet looking for the first aid kit. 

“Seriously guys, it's a flesh wound. I’m- Ah!” Nat screamed in pain as the jet hit a spout of turbulence. 

“Like you were saying.” Wanda smirked, placing her hands carefully on Nats' wound. Her hands glowed a deep red as she tried to relieve the pain. The spy’s face relaxed, but only for a moment before she was back to worried. 

“He’s alive, Buck.” Nat spoke, and when she did, he could hear the fear in her words. 

“Who?” Steve demanded, but Nat’s eyes stayed put on Bucky’s. 

“Tommy. She said his name in the hallway. It was him, Buck. He’s not dead. He’s the one that shot me, the one that took her.” Nat flinched in pain as Wanda's hands fell from her side. 

“That’s not possible.” Bucky shook his head. “Steve found my mission file. I killed him. I remembered it. You just don't walk away from that.” 

“Well, clearly you do.” Nat spoke sarcastically, pointing to the gushing holes in the body. 

“So Tommy’s alive? And he’s Hydra now?” Wanda asked, suddenly realising her hands were not on Nat’s wounds anymore. She placed them back silently apologising. 

“And he’s got Y/n.” Bucky added, his jaw clenched in anger. 

“We’ll get her back.” Steve spoke. He placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder which he quickly shrugged off, pacing back and forth through the small aircraft. 

“I know we will. And i’m going to finish the fucking job and tear that prick in two.” He seethed, mostly to himself. 

He tried to focus on the task at hand. Desperately brainstorming how to get to you, but his mind was spirling. How could he just leave you? How could he have been so stupid? The sound of his name leaving your lips echoed around him, only fuling his growing rage. 

“All our tactical suits have hidden trackers in the sleeves. We will hear it go off, but until then we wait. They cant have gotten far.” Steve started as the jet began its descent. “We're almost at the safe house. We’ll track her from there. In the morning, we’ll head out.”

“Morning? That's too long. She could be-'' Bucky cut himself off, too broken at the thought to finish that sentence. “I’ll find her myself tonight.” He grumbled. 

“Oh no you don’t. We’re a team, Buck. We do this together. Vision will be able to enable her tracker. But we need to work together. We can't lose anybody else to impulse decisions.” Steve scolded. 

He knew his friend was right but it didn't make it any easier to agree. All Bucky wanted to go but get you back. Keep you safe and never let anyone touch you again. He tried to keep his distance before, he really did, but that was out the window now. There wasn't a chance in hell he was leaving your side after this. As for the man that ripped you from his grasp, oh boy… He tried not to make a habit out of fantasizing murder, mostly as it resulted in the Winter Soldier coming out of the shadows, but if that was the case with Tommy, so be it. Only when Bucky stood in a pile or carnage and gore and blood would he finally feel peace again...

“We're coming up on the safe house. Y'all ready to bail?” Sam's voice tore Bucky out of his thoughts, and thankfully so. He was sure it was leading to a very destructive path. 

“Buck, help us get Nat inside. Wanda and Sam - sweep the area, make sure no one has followed us. I’ll fill Vision in on what's happened and see if he can turn on Y/n’s tracker now.” Steve commanded as he hopped out of the jet. 

“Can you stand?” Bucky asked, dipping down to tuck Nats arm around his shoulder, helping her up. She nodded reluctantly, wincing in pain as she moved. 

The safe house was a small cabin in the middle nowhere. Munich was only a few minutes down the road but the thick coverage of trees that surrounded the cabin made it feel secluded and hard to be spotted from above.  If they weren't followed, no one would ever know they were here. 

Bucky helped Nat inside, letting Steve and Wanda take over once they were through the door. Before he could enter, he stopped, taking a moment to gaze upon the sun rising over the mountains. In a few hours, he’d be with you again. He just had to make it until then, and pray to whatever god would still have him, that you were alive. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Продолжай копать. Нам надо её найти.” Keep digging. We have to find it. The voice rang in your mind, waking you from the recurring nightmare. Visions of Tommy and that boyish smile that once brought so much happiness.. His voice, the way it used to say your name, now only causing you ache. 

“Wait, rewind there! Вернись. That’s it.” The voice spoke again, echoing around the room. You opened your eyes slowly, taking in your surroundings, but all you were met with was darkness. You could feel movement around you, but the blindfold tied around your eyes masked their faces. 

“I’m positive she told me what was in that serum.” His voice caused your heart to just about leap from your chest. You knew that voice anywhere. 

“You better be right. You're as good as dead to me otherwise.” Another man spoke. 

“No I’m sure. Wait! Right there. Replay that part.” Tommy asserted. 

Suddenly a headache burned through your temples, scorching the inside of your eyes. You screamed in pain as it coarsed though your body until an image appeared in your mind. It replayed over and over, making you dizzy. 

“Whatcha doing?” Tommy cooed, taking a seat on your desk. 

“Just trying to find the right components.” You spoke, not taking your eyes microscope as you examined the petri dish below. 

“Cummon, baby. You've been at this for hours. Come eat something.” You looked up, Tommy stood there with that big goofy smile you loved so much. 

“I’ve almost got it. Just a little longer.” You reassured him, rolling in your chair and picking up another sample and analysing it. 

“What exactly is, it?” he asked, emphasizing the word. 

“If I mix the steroid with-” 

Another shrieking jolt of pain seared through you as the memory disappeared, leaving you trembling. 

“Go back, we almost had it!” Someone yelled from beside you. 

You tried to scream, to beg them to stop, but it was no use. Before you could try again, the same horrible pain erupted through your body, ripping you back to the distant memory. 

“If I mix the steroid with human blood, it does as it's designed.  But taking into account the theory of nuclear transmutation, we can assume given the right element we can use the serum to absorb its surroundings, right?” You spoke, like it was common sense. 

“Sure…” Tommy chuckled. 

“So, strip down the original serum, add radiation to its compound, now it needs the ability to absorb energy… What element do we know has that power?” it wasn't a question, nor did you think Tommy would know the answer so you continued, “Water, and our bodies are basically made of that. So in turn, if we can create the original serum mixed with high levels of radiation, inject the person, granted you're not killed by that high levels of toxicity, we're looking at a new type of Super Soldier. One that could, in theory, mutate around the serum and absorb its surroundings!” You finally finished.

“I have no idea what any of that means… But it sounds cool. Now put the vile down, and eat something.” He laughed, grabbing the sample out of your hands and carefully placing it on the table next to you.

“Thats it!” Someone shouted. “Of course, why didn't we think of this. Call the commander, tell him we found it.” 

You felt your body twist in agony, but soon the memory left, leaving you back in the dark with disembodied voices echoing around you. 

“What do you want me to do with her?” a man asked. 

“I don't care. убить её?” Kill her? You froze at his words. Even if you could move, your hands were tied down to the chair. Gentally you wiggle your fingers, careful not to draw any attention to yourself. Not that you would be able to tell. The ring that Shuri had made you was still there. If you timed in right, and you still had Wanda’s borrowed power, you could use it to untie yourself and hopefully get the fuck out of this hell hole. 

“Kill her?” Tommy choked. “You didn't say anything about killin’ her?” 

“You should be thankful. The girl’s been sharing a bed with the same man who killed you once before. In fact, I’m so pleased with your work developing this memory decoder that I’ll give you the honour.” The man spoke, shuffling around the room. “Here, tell me when you're done having your fun.” A few heavy footsteps later, and you finally heard the door close. The silence was deafening, but eventually, Tommy let out a deep breath and took a step towards you, ripping your blind fold off. 

You squinted as you tried to acclimate your eyes to the lighting of the room. It was small and dark, but a few dim lights hung above you illuminating Tommy's features. Once upon a time you would have described them as strong and rugged. Now they seemed to loom over you, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, softer than you expected. You quickly clocked the pistol in his left hand and tried to suppress a scoff. 

“Am I okay?” You gawked at him. “You just dug through my head like a sand pit. No- no I’m not okay you shit head!” You screamed. 

Tommy chuckled, using the gun to scratch the back of his neck. “Touché…” He spoke, pulling up a stool and plopping himself down on it infront of you. “I missed that attitude baby. Really, these past couple years have been hell without you. These guys are really scary, but I told em- I said, my girl will know what to do. And you did, baby. I never doubted you.” His voice was like honey. Thick and sickenly sweet. 

“What are you talking about?! I thought you were dead!? I mourned you, asshole. And you've been alive this whole time, working against me?” You couldn't believe how cavalier he was being about this. Tommy only shrugged, fuling the rage inside you. 

“Nah, it's not like that. I was dead, really I was. But then Hydra came and BOOM I was back. They promised me that they’d keep me safe, as long as I could help em get that serum you were always talkin’ bout. Said they wanted to give it time in your system, make sure it didn't kill ya.” He started, narrowing his eyes slowly, “You grieved me? That's a funny way of putting it. Cause from what I saw in that head of yours, you were pretty chummy with that Soldier.”  

You couldn't stifle the scoff that erupted in your mouth. “You're kidding right? Jesus, Tom. They brainwashed me. And I don't need to explain myself. You're sick, you know that?  How could you do this? Do you have any idea what they're going to use that serum for?” You fired the questions off like explosives into his chest, but he didn't even flinch. 

“I don't really care. They told me if I gave em’ your little recipe, they’d let me go.” He shrugged. 

“And so what? Now you're going to kill me?” 

“No… Maybe. I haven't really decided yet.” He looked down at the pistol like it was the first time he really noticed it was there. Contemplating your death like he was deciding between his morning coffee. 

“I would get going on that if I were you.” You lifted your hands, wiggling your wingers playfully “Really, Tommy, you're not cut out for this line of work.” You spat, jumping from your seat and landing a hard kick to his gut, sending him flying back. The gun ricocheted off the ground and hit the wall, but before he could react, you grabbed it. In one swift move you turned the safety off and placed your finger on the trigger. 

“Cummon baby, let's talk about this.” He raised his hands in surrender. “You wouldn't shoot me.” 

You cocked a brow, “You sound really confident in that statement. Especially for a boy who was debating my death a moment ago.” You argued. 

“Dont take it personally, baby. Anything you can do, I can do better. Remember?” You smirked. 

................................................................................................................................

A/n: Another Cliff hanger? Yes. Do I know how to wrote anything else? No... My bad lol. I hope your enjoyed this one as much as I did writing it! As always, @cutie1365​ is the bomb dot com for editing this for me. Tommy sucks, we both agree. I hope he gets whats coming to him... please leave some love and reblog if you read it! 

@kalesrebellion​

@projectcampbell​

@calwitch​

[emwritesfootball]

Bir öpücük [One kiss] | Berke Özer and Zeki Çelik

Word Count: 2,931

Warnings: Cheating, Oral Sex (male and female giving/receiving), Age Gap (4-5 Years), Third Person POV

Summary: When She and Berke get in a fight, Zeki is there to comfort Her...

A/N: I asked and nobody answered so you're getting it anyway xx This is my entry for @footballffbarbiex's latest writing challenge for the Forbidden Love category and I wrote this last night because I got inspired. Biiig thank you to @meteora-fc and @sammisze for the proofreading and extra suggestions. Enjoy y'all <3

- - -

“Where have you been?” She sounds like a petulant child - or worse, a concerned parent - and regrets the words the moment they leave her mouth.

Berke shoots her a look, rolling his eyes as he starts to undress. “Out. What business is it of yours?”

“I’m your girlfriend.” Her voice is shrill to her ears and she hates it. “You didn’t think to invite me out?”

“Just wanted a guys night. Is that so wrong?”

“Not at all! I just wish you’d communicate better sometimes.”

“I’m twenty-one - what do you expect?” He mocks, throwing what she usually uses as a teasing excuse when he fucks up in her face.

They haven’t been together long - a little under three months - but things were serious enough for him to bring her with him to Turkey from Belgium with his latest call-up to the U-19 side of the national team. They’d met through mutual friends, and the attraction was immediate. She had been hesitant, though, with their age gap, but Berke had assured her that four years wasn’t that big of an age gap, and their relationship had started from there.

She soon learned that dating a younger man - especially one of Berke’s status - wasn’t all she’d thought it would be. Berke’s rising fame as a skilled keeper, the media likening him to now-manager Şenol Güneş back in his career when he was one of the “Trabzonpor Efsanesi”, quickly took a toll on their relationship. A simple Google search had told her just how prestigious of a title that was, and part of her was surprised that he wanted to date her when he could be out playing the field.

Then, there were the red flags. He preferred to DM her on Instagram or just send her a simple wordless Snapchat; if she wanted to call him or FaceTime, they’d have to plan it so far in advance that Berke would ultimately forget about it. Whenever he was with her, he always seemed to be glued to his phone. She wasn’t completely immune to distractions either, and she’d played on her phone a few times too, but something about when he did it unnerved her.

She mostly brushed it all off, hoping it would all die down once the season was over and the two of them could go on holiday together and get to know each other on a different level. In a way, she’d been looking at this trip to Turkey as a practice holiday, but now she fears they’re about to be over before they even really had a chance to begin.

“I don’t expect much, Berke,” she says, searching for her words. “Hell, I don’t even care where you went tonight - I just would have preferred to know if you were gonna be out late so I could’ve gone to bed hours ago.”

“So I forgot to text you? So what?! I wasn’t aware I was dating my mother.” The way he says the word has her reeling. They haven’t shared too many intimate, deep stories, but she knows that Berke is well-aware of the fact that she hates being compared to anyone’s mother and that she’s insecure enough about their age gap as it is.

“Well, I wasn’t aware I was dating a child, so I guess we’re even,” she sneers, barely concealing her tears as she exits the hotel room she and Berke are sharing and makes a beeline for the hotel bar.

She takes a seat at the bar, relaxing a bit when her quick scan of the patrons tells her that nobody else she’d know is there. Her Turkish isn’t great - Berke had promised to translate - but ‘shots’ and ‘another’ seem to be universal, and after downing a few shots, she switches to a double Scotch on the rocks. As she drinks, she replays the last few hours in her mind. She knows she let her insecurities get the better of her and she regrets it; she also wants to apologize but it’s late and she figures Berke either left the room or is asleep and she doesn’t really feel like going back up to the room and finding out which one it is.

“You okay?” Zeki Çelik’s voice brings her out of her thoughts.

“Huh?” She turns to face him, confused.

“You let out a sigh… I assume something is wrong?”

“Oh.” She laughs awkwardly, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t realize I’d done that.” She gives him a small smile, gesturing to the empty barstool beside her. “You can sit if you want.”

Zeki returns her smile, taking the seat she offers. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She drains her Scotch, signaling to the bartender who appears. Zeki puts in for two club sodas, and even though she throws him a glare, she doesn’t correct him as she starts, “Not really. Berke and I had a fight.”

“Oh.” Zeki nods sagely and she can tell he wants to ask more but he doesn’t.

The two of them sit in silence for a few long moments before she finally caves. “It was a long time coming, I think. We didn’t break up, obviously, but we definitely said things that were both on our minds.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Zeki says, taking a sip of his club soda when it arrives.

“It’s okay,” you reply, waving off the sentiment with your hand. You’re tipsy now and you want to talk about it. “He compared me to his mother and I called him a child.” You let out a derisive laugh, shaking your head. “It was ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“This is exactly what I worried was going to happen when the two of us started dating but Berke swore our age difference wasn’t a big deal to him…”

She trails off and Zeki finds himself studying her intently. “You’re older?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, nodding. “Almost five years, actually. I’m 25.”

“Wow - I just assumed you were younger.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “No. I think I just need to learn from this. I just need a smaller age gap - or just stick to older guys.”

“You just need to find a younger guy who appreciates you,” Zeki says softly, making her pause. The way he’s looking at her isn’t like anything she’s ever seen on Berke’s face, and against her better judgment, her heart starts to beat a little faster. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear and her breath hitches.

“Zeki-”

“I know,” he replies, looking away. “We can’t. You’re with Berke.” He runs a hand over his face and down his beard - an action she doesn’t miss - sighing. “I would never do that to a teammate and a friend - no matter how into their girlfriend I was.”

“Wh-what?” She’s stunned, blinking rapidly as she tries to process his words.

“It wasn’t intentional, don’t worry,” Zeki backtracks, chuckling nervously. “I just thought you were beautiful when I first saw you. I didn’t know then that you were Berke’s girl, but in that moment, I fell for you.” He pauses, draining his club soda. “Anyway, I’ll leave you alone now, but I sincerely hope you and Berke work it out.”

He gets up to leave and she puts a hand on his forearm, looking up at him. “Stay. Please? You can tell me I’m beautiful some more if you’d like,” she jokes, relieved when he laughs and sits back down.

Something tells her they’ve both crossed a line, but it feels good to just sit and talk with an attractive man who thinks she’s beautiful, not giving Berke a second thought as she laughs with Zeki.

When she yawns and Zeki follows seconds later, they both know it’s time to turn in; they’ve drunk their fill of club sodas and her mini-hangover from the shots and Scotch is getting the better of her. Zeki wraps an arm around her shoulder, steadying her as she stands, and she can’t help leaning into his touch, sighing contentedly. He’s not as tall as Berke, but she doesn’t miss how good it feels to have him rest his chin on top of her head as they wait for the lift back to their respective floors.

Their ride is quiet yet comfortable, but she gets confused when the lift stops on his floor first but Zeki makes no move to get off. “I’ll walk you to your door,” he says nonchalantly, and she hates the way her heartbeat picks up at the basic chivalry he’s just displayed.

“Thank you,” she whispers, looking up at him. She’s still tucked into his side and the knowledge that she’s going to be leaving his warmth in a matter of minutes has her feeling a sense of loss she didn’t know she was capable of feeling.

The lift door opens on her floor, and suddenly she doesn’t want to get off. Zeki waits patiently, watching her attentively as the doors close and she moves to press the number for his floor again. “The problem is,” she starts as the lift begins to descend again, “is that I don’t want to go to my room right now.”

Zeki swallows hard at the innuendo, his grip around her waist tightening almost imperceptibly. “Balım, if I let you come to my room, we won’t be sleeping.” Honey.

The doors open again and she walks out with Zeki, weighing her options. She knows that she shouldn’t, but Zeki feels so good and she doesn’t want to go back to her room with an angry Berke. “One kiss,” she says when they stop in front of Zeki’s hotel room. She’s almost certain this kiss will erase her attraction to him and she can go back to the bar and drown her sorrows before she actually goes to bed.

“One kiss,” Zeki murmurs, stepping closer so she’s pinned between him and the wall. His eyes are dark with lust and she swallows hard as she looks up at him, her tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip, making Zeki moan.

Slowly, as if in a dream, she places a hand on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat underneath her palm. Her other hand winds around the back of his neck, her fingers threading in his hair. Zeki’s hands are on her waist, his touch burning through her clothes and searing her skin.

The moment his lips touch hers, she’s gone. Zeki kisses her like he’s kissed her a thousand times, with just the right amount of pressure and neediness that leaves her wanting more. When he breaks the kiss, they’re both breathing heavily, but she needs more. Her eyes search his and without another word, she stands on her tiptoes and drags him back down for another kiss.

She doesn’t know how he kisses her while fumbling for his key card, but Zeki never breaks the kiss even as he opens the door and leads her inside his hotel room. He turns on a light and she uses the opportunity to take off her shirt, giving him a wicked grin when he does a double take at her in her bra. “Fuck!” He curses in Turkish, taking her back in his arms as his hands slide up her back to unclasp the bra. “Çok güzelsin,” he murmurs before kissing her again. You’re so beautiful.

Her bra falls to the floor and Zeki is quick to palm her breasts, pressing kisses to the tops of each of them before taking each of her nipples in his mouth. She cries out, arching her back as her fingers find his hair. His scruff scrapes across her sensitive skin and she knows she’s probably going to have beard burn in the morning but she doesn’t care.

Zeki leads her over to the bed, watching as she falls backward and reaches for him, pulling him down on top of her with ease. It’s her turn to undress him, her moans of approval sounding as she runs her hands down his muscled torso. He can’t think straight when she reaches for the button on his jeans and he’s quickly pulling them off his body so he can do the same to her.

“Zeki!” She whimpers when he hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties and tugs them down, the cool air hitting her pussy as he spreads her legs and kneels between them.

“Be good for me, Balım, and I’ll make sure you get to cum,” he murmurs, kissing his way up her inner thighs. The sensation of his beard brushing over the skin of her inner thighs goes straight to her clit and she knows she’s already dripping wet for him.

She loses it when he finally puts his mouth on her pussy. He looks up at her from between her legs as he sucks her clit and she almost cums from that alone. Zeki continues to speak Turkish to her as he eats her out, loving the way she comes undone from his words alone. He can feel his cock throbbing and he knows he won’t last long inside her, but he focuses on giving her a mindblowing first orgasm.

When Zeki commands her to cum for him, her body’s response is immediate. Her inner walls clench around the two fingers he inserted inside her, her fingers fisting the bedsheets as she writhes under his touch. He kisses her hard, drawing out her orgasm by curling his fingers inside her, and she can taste herself on his lips.

“My turn,” she says wickedly, dropping to her knees to play with his cock. He’s already leaking precum and she wraps a hand around his shaft, giving him a few pumps before she puts her mouth on him.

Zeki lets loose a string of Turkish when she takes him as far down her throat as she can, gagging on his length. His fingers find her hair and he tugs, pulling her mouth off his dick before he can cum. “I’ll cum down your throat later,” he growls, his heavily-accented English sending a thrill down her spine. “Right now, I need to be inside you.”

She doesn’t protest when he bends her over the bed, taking her from behind. He fucks her roughly, pulling her hair to make her arch her back so he can hit her pussy from an angle that makes her eyes roll back. “Zeki, please!” She begs, her face pressed into the mattress.

His deft fingers find her clit and it isn’t long after that she’s cumming around his cock, milking his orgasm. She can feel his cum coat the inside of her pussy and she knows he’ll be dripping out of her when he pulls out, a thought that turns her on.

The moment Zeki pulls out of her, he goes to get cleaned up. He brings her a warm washcloth and proceeds to carefully clean her up, making sure to run the rough fabric over her clit a few times so he can watch her pussy spasm around nothing. “Such a good girl for me,” he praises, trailing kisses down her back.

“It wasn’t hard,” she counters, giving him a cheesy grin as he settles in bed and motions for her to join him. She falls asleep in his arms, sated and content.

It isn’t until the morning when she wakes up and fully realizes the ramifications of what she’s done.

***

Waking up in Zeki’s arms feels like a dream, and she’s almost sure she’s dreaming until he shifts and stretches, giving her a small smile. “Günaydın,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. Good morning. “How did you sleep?”

She doesn’t answer him, instead moving to throw back the covers and find her clothes. “Shit!” She curses, running a hand through her hair. “I’m a mess; I should shower before I get back, right? God, fuck, Berke’s gonna know something’s up.”

“Look at me, Balım,” Zeki says soothingly, getting up from the bed and coming to rest his hands on her shoulders.”It’s gonna be okay - we’ll figure this out.”

“I can’t believe I cheated on him,” she whispers, covering her mouth with her hand as she tries to keep tears at bay. “I...I was mad at him - I never thought I’d do something this awful.”

“I know, I know you didn’t mean it,” he says, pulling her into his arms against his better judgment. The regret in her voice makes him feel hollow, but he doesn’t dare put his own feelings on her in this moment. After all, it isn’t fair for him to have slept with his teammate’s girlfriend, regardless of how he’s felt about her this last week. “Don’t worry. This was just a one-time thing and I promise I won’t tell him unless you decide to.”

“You won’t?” The relief on her face as she looks up at him makes him want to die, but Zeki nods.

“I won’t. Now, let’s figure out what to do. Why don’t you shower here and then we’ll figure out what to do next, okay?”

***

Zeki watches, heartbroken, as she goes back to Berke like nothing happened. Logically, he knew that the two of them wouldn’t have lasted even if she’d dumped Berke for him, but it still hurts. He knows this is for the best, that lying to Berke was the only way to keep the team together (or, at least, that’s what he’s telling himself), but he can’t help wishing he was the one on her arm instead.

[elizabethemerald]

The Kyoshi Warriors

Kyoshi Island

Suki frowned as she trained with her fellow Kyoshi warriors. The Avatar had returned to Kyoshi Island. Almost everyone on the island was thrilled, his presence filling the town with color and excitement again. There were however a few who saw the Avatar’s return as a siren that would draw conflict to the island. Suki was dedicated to making sure her warriors were ready when the conflict found them. 

Her mood was not improved by the guests the Avatar had brought with him. The waterbender, Katara, was nice, kind of cute in a not-ready-to-acknowledge-her-traumas sort of way. She wasn’t the problem. Her brother was a pain in the neck, sexist, and an annoyance, but Suki knew how to deal with that type. She hadn’t been leading a group of all female warriors for the past few years for nothing and knew how to deal with a man who couldn’t accept that a woman might be better than him. 

The two firebenders were another story. Zuko and Azula. The banished prince and princess of the Fire Nation. They had both obviously turned traitor and weren’t serving the Fire Nation any more, but that did little to ease Suki’s concerns. They were still firebenders. Fire Nation Royalty. One wrong spark from them could set her whole town ablaze. 

Zuko at least seemed dedicated to avoiding the Kyoshi warriors as much as possible. He spent a lot of time either with the Avatar or exploring the island alone. Suki had a few of her warriors shadowing him to make sure he didn’t get up to trouble, however he seemed mostly interested in finding quiet places to meditate and focus on his breathing. 

Azula however had been tailing Suki in turn. Suki had seen the silent firebender following her around several times throughout the last several days. Each time she had been around her fellow warriors and could feel Azula staring at her. And she was here again while they trained. Watching. A glare on her face was made all the more serious by the scar on her face. 

Finally Suki had had enough of the glaring. She marched over to where Azula was sitting watching the warriors.

“Do you have some kind of problem with us?” Suki demanded. 

Azula’s hands started moving rapidly. Suki recognized it was a form of hand talk that the former princesses used to communicate. She had seen her talking to the others using the signs, however they were completely different then the basic hand symbols the Kyoshi warriors used to communicate tactics. 

“I don’t know what you’re saying!” Suki said, her frustration mounting. 

Suki stepped back as lightning arked around Azula’s hands. The flicking of her signs began to crackle and spark and Suki had to blink spots from her eyes from the brightness. She stepped back again, ready to take a fighting stance. Several of the other warriors had noticed her change in posture and were coming closer. 

“I can try and translate for you!” A voice called drawing the attention of the warriors and freezing Azula in place. 

Katara stepped up from the side. Suki had already noticed her to be something of a peacekeeper in their little group, but she kept her attention on the threat before her. Azula’s eyes widened at the sight of Katara, her whole body stiffened, and her perpetual frown seemed to loosen. 

“Azula, what were you saying?” Katara asked. 

Rather than answer, or repeat her earlier comments Azula stood up and stomped away from them, her hands still moving. 

"I am not a peasant!" Katara shouted after her. 

Suki hid her smile behind her fan. 

"Is she always like this?"

"I don't know, but it seems like it. She always gets mad at me when I try to talk to her. I'm trying to learn her sign language but she never gives me a chance."

"Hmm. If that's all then?" Suki turned to rejoin the rest of the warriors. Not before watching Katara's back as she walked away. Definitely cute. 

* * *

She next saw Azula that night. Suki and the other warriors who were off duty were relaxing near the center of the village. Her legs were currently tangled with the warrior to her left as she ran her fingers through the other girl’s hair. 

A brief flash of light caught her attention in the darkness. She stiffened and was about to sit up, when she saw it was Aang getting dragged over to them by Azula. She was obviously still agitated by whatever had her so upset since she’s been on the island. Small sparks would jump across her skin every few seconds and her hair was in a wild disarray. She shoved Aang down to sit with the warriors and sat next to him. Aang looked at her in slight confusion for a second before turning to face Suki. 

“Apparently Azula would like to ask a few questions. Do you have a moment?” Aang asked. 

“For the Avatar? Always.” Suki sat up a little but made no effort to leave the group. 

Azula looked at her nervously for a moment then turned and addressed Aang. Suki watched her signs, trying to pick out repeated words and guess what Azula was saying from Aang’s responses. 

“Yes I promise not to tell Zuko. Or Sokka. Or… how about I just promise not to tell anyone?”

Suki raised an eyebrow. Secret questions? Aang turned to her after watching Azula sign for a few more moments. 

“Will you promise not to tell anyone about this?” he asked her. 

Suki couldn’t help but glance around at the circle of girls around them. Every Kyoshi warrior was subtly listening in while pretending they were focusing on something else. 

“Well, if it makes this conversation happen faster I will promise not to tell anyone as long as nothing we discuss puts any person on Kyoshi Island at risk.”

Aang faced Azula again who scowled, finally she nodded and started asking questions. These again seemed to be addressed more to Aang then to Suki. 

“No. Yes. I guess men and women both if you want.” Aang’s answers to the questions piqued Suki’s interest further. Before she could puzzle out exactly what Azula was asking Aang turned to face her now. “Do you love your fellow Kyoshi Warriors?”

The question took Suki a little by surprise. 

“Of course I love them? I love everyone in this village and on this island. Don’t you find you fight harder when you are defending those you love?”

Azula looked thoughtful for a moment before she began a rapid series of signs. Small sparks jumped and popped across her fingers as she talked. 

“She doesn’t mean that kind of love.” Aang hesitated. “Azula, that’s kind of a personal question to ask.”

“Do you mean romantic love?” Suki said with a smile. She carefully watched Azula’s face. The slight blush on her face, mostly hidden by her scar. The eyes that twitched to look at the girl practically sitting on Suki’s lap. The tension around Katara. Ah. 

Suki turned to the girl she was sitting entwined with. A single finger on her chin moved the girl’s head to face her. Suki pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She could feel the other girl smile against her lips. She held her in a kiss for a moment, then two, before she leaned back. She smiled warmly at the other girl, staring deep into her eyes. Then she turned to face the two newcomers. 

Aang had a smile all the way up to his ears and Suki could practically see the stars in his eyes. His face was also beet red. Azula was staring, her eyes wide and her mouth flapping like one of the elephant koi. When Suki made eye contact she seemed to realize and reordered her face to her usual expression. She bowed and made as if to rise, but stopped when Suki’s hand shot out quick as a cat-snake to catch her wrist. 

“Has no one ever told you could love girls before?’ Suki said, completely seriously. She held Azula’s eyes for a moment. When she finally blinked Azula resettled on the ground and shook her head silently. 

“Wait. What?” Aang asked, his confusion clear on his face. 

“Aang since you’ve been gone, a lot has changed.” Suki said, keeping her voice soft. “The Fire Nation had banned homosexuality during the end of Sozen’s reign. Punishment ranges from fines or jail time to banishment or public humiliation.”

Now it was Aang’s turn for his jaw to drop. Though his confusion and surprise was mixed with anger. 

“But how can that be? During my time I knew many people who loved men or women or both or neither! Even in the Fire Nation.”

“Like I said. Things change. Sometimes for the worse.” Suki looked at Azula. She seemed stunned by the news. Suki moved her hand to Azula’s leg to get her attention. “You are outside of the Fire Nation’s control. You can love whoever you want. However they identify you are allowed to love them.”

Azula left shortly after Suki said that. She had a thoughtful expression on her face as she wandered into the darkness. Aang stayed to grouse about the changes and how his friend Kuzon had wanted a boyfriend, and on and on. Eventually Suki returned her attention the girl she was sitting with, then divided her attention as another girl came and sat on her lap. 

* * *

Another fireball arched through the night. Suki shouted orders to her Kyoshi Warriors as they worked to repel the Fire Nation incursion. Just like she had feared, word of the Avatar being on Kyoshi Island spread far quicker than she would like. The single Fire Nation vessel seemed to be the only that had heard and decided to investigate, for now. 

Suki charged forward ducking another fire blast before she was within range of the Fire Nation soldiers. The firebenders weren’t used to nonbenders attacking them. They expected to be attacked at range, with earthbending, not a bladed fan at their throat. The rest of her warriors sprinted forward engaging the soldiers wherever they could. They would not allow their home to fall under Fire Nation control. 

As Suki ran around the corner of a house she almost ran straight into Azula. The girl was staring at the roaring flames, terror clear on her face. Suki had been around older warriors enough to recognize the signs of a panic attack. She grabbed Azula and tried to drag her away, but the girl stood like she was rooted to the ground. 

Several soldiers broke from the attack to surround them. Suki couldn’t rush any of the soldiers without leaving Azula exposed, so she stood her ground, ready to make them fear the Kyoshi Warriors. The first drew his fist back, then unleashed a blast of fire at them. Suki could hear Azula’s breath stop at the sight of the flame flying towards her. 

A small wave of water and blast of steam signaled the arrival of Katara. She swung around and lashed out against one of the other soldiers before Aang landed beside her, a cyclone knocking the remaining soldiers flying into the air. He jumped and skipped to the next roof top to extinguish the flames there before releasing another blast of air. Katara turned to Azula and Suki. 

“Azula you need to get out of here!” Katara shouted over the roaring flames. “Suki, what happened? What’s wrong with her?”

“She froze up.” Suki said. 

She spun around Katara’s body to kick a helmeted head. Katara grabbed Azula’s shoulders and after a moment her eyes focused on her. 

“Azula go! Get Appa and Zuko. You can’t be seen. Aang, the Kyoshi Warriors and I will distract the Fire Nation. Go!”

Azula just looked at Katara for another moment before she nodded and ran up the hill towards were Appa was. Suki nodded to Katara and was about to rejoin the fight, when the screeching sound of twisting metal tore through the night. 

Suki smiled as the unagi tore a massive hole in the Fire Nation ship. The remaining soldiers turned to flee to their ship as a soft rain began to fall on the village. Aang had some how convinced the eel that protected Kyoshi Island to extinguish the flames in the village. Suki and her warriors drove the last of the soldiers from the island as Appa came soaring down. 

She watched Azula help Katara board the skybison. Then Aang jumped up to the bridle and they flew past the heavily damaged ship. Aang made sure to slice at the ship as they passed so the Fire Nation would know they were leaving. 

Suki looked around her smoking village. Perhaps Kyoshi Island had fought to remain outside the conflict for too long. 

* * *

The Walls of Ba Sing Se, Some time later

Suki stood and watched as Team Avatar boarded the ferry into Ba Sing Se. They could have flown in on Appa, but decided it would be more appropriate to come in with the rest of the refugees. As she watched something caught her eye. 

Azula kept close to Katara, sat next to her, watched her with a lingering eye. Katara, almost unconsciously, kept her hand on Azula’s arm longer then necessary. She also carefully stood in front of the other girl when the guards tried to inspect her too closely. 

Suki could easily see the growing chemistry between the two girls. Hopefully soon one of them would make the leap. They would be cute together. Really cute. She let a smile slip up her face and left to find her own girlfriends.