#it's the long hair broad back tiny waist combo

[lamnwar]

I hate to say it but my (ex) uni crush (he started giving me the ick for some reason after a semester lmao) is very Geto-coded like

[heli0s-writes]

V. Exhibit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary:  After all your hard work, the day is finally here. A/N: Part 5 of Mystery of Love.

The following month passed by in a hurry, as your thoughts were dominated by the constant thrall of work. One month was truly not enough to prepare, but you knew the implications of waiting until June passed- those positions in the fall would likely not be available; June was late enough.

Tony eagerly sprang into action and helped you transform your guest room into a photography studio, begrudgingly folding to your “outrageous peasant demands” of simple lighting, and two solid backdrops. When it was fully set up, you held a meeting with the team and prepped them over procedure and your proposal. You spoke plainly.

The show to view your work post-travels was primarily a guise to get a glimpse into their lives more intimately; you were under no illusion that it was anything else but 1) a shrewd plan for elites to rub elbows with other elites and 2) an opportunity for you.

Honesty was the best policy, and you knew they would appreciate it.

“If you consent to have your posed portrait taken by me in a studio setting- something we haven’t done before, thank you. If you don’t, I don’t blame you or hold it against you. It can be unnatural, uncomfortable, and I understand. Be aware- these images will be auctioned off. They will not, however, be duplicated. They are single prints.”

“Please make me rich.” Tony grinned as he spun freely in the swivel chair, “I mean, richer. Please make me richer.” After a round of glares from the team, he fessed, “Oh fine. Yes, you’ll receive a portion of the payment. You greedy little assholes.”

It didn’t take much more convincing for everyone to be on board. You were eager to begin and spent the first few days of June taking note of the kinds of images you wanted from each member. You thought about the representation of duality of Avenger and “being” whether it was human, super soldier, or an enhanced- or in Thor’s case, a god. But in the end, you decided on listening to Bucky’s advice and give ‘em hell. They were going to play by your rules.

Halfway through the month, you were so engrossed in the work, you’d barely had time to spend with either Steve or Bucky. They were sweet enough to make sure you had plenty of coffee on your days at the compound and would try to call before bed if you were in the city. Other than the occasional dinners together and their own photo sessions (which you were adamant on keeping strictly professional-save for a very stubborn session with Bucky), you hardly saw them.

Steve was called away on a diplomatic assignment with Natasha in Paris on the 13th. You were happy to hear that he wouldn’t be in any foreseeable danger and a tiny bit glad that he’d be busy doing something other than worried about your sleeping and eating habits. By the 24th, everything was nearly complete, and the only thing left for you to do was buy a dress and set up for the night of. You felt like a pile of wet rags and had even lost a few pounds from the stress and exertion.

-

The morning of the 26th, Steve and Natasha landed at the compound, disembarking from the quinjet. You were taking the day off to find a dress in the city; Tony had given you his credit card. It was a tremendous gesture you wanted to refuse until he reminded you that truthfully, you were doing him just as big of a favor as he was doing you. He had even encouraged you to get a custom gown early in the month and even passed the message along to various designers, but you adamantly refused, reiterating once again that it was not about you. Tony would have to face the disappointment of being the only one in a custom-made ensemble.

At 11, while rifling through a rack of silk and lace beauties, you received a call from Bucky.

“Hey, you,” you smiled. He’d been texting you all morning, updating you on Steve’s jet lag. “Can I come to you for lunch?” You sucked in a deep breath. “Buck, you sure? I’m in Manhattan.” “Yeah. Send me your location.”

There was no arguing with him when he made up his mind.

When Bucky arrived on 5th Avenue, he wore a black long-sleeve and jeans with his usual combat boots. You couldn’t help but smile at the classic cap and sunglasses combo as he plodded through the throng of tourists- looking very much like one himself. His hair was tied back to avoid sticking to his neck in the heat. He kissed your shoulder at the entrance of the store and you grazed his stubbled chin with a finger in response.

The walk to your favorite sandwich shop was relatively short, and Bucky let you lead the way, keeping a hand on the small of your back to keep you close. The two of you sat at the bar near the window after your food arrived and you let him know your surprise at his offer to meet you in the city. He shrugged it off as he took the sunglasses off his face.

“When I was on the run, I placed myself in different locations, but it was often smartest to hide in plain sight. Bucharest has a population of over a million people ‘n they’re so busy they don’t pay attention to much else; I don’t go into the city mostly because I don’t like it, hon’.” He took a bite of his sub and you did the same, snorting in delight when a bit of lettuce hung from his chin. Bucky rolled his eyes and sent you a lopsided grin before closing his mouth again over the sub, muttering. “You’re a punk.”

You felt laughter bubbling up in your chest as he swiped off the lettuce and flung it at you.

This was the Bucky you liked the most- playful, mischievous, still sweet in the center. Not to say there were parts of him you disliked, but you were careful with his more jagged pieces. The Bucky who scanned every room he entered, who always strapped at least three knives to his body, who scowled on impulse, who automatically put himself in front of you in response to loud noises needed more tenderness. The Bucky who texted you at three in the morning “just to see if you were awake” needed more tenderness, too.

The first time you woke up to one of those messages, you joked that he reminded you of a college boy making a booty call. Only after seeing him bleary eyed and on-edge did you ponder more deeply about it and ventured to ask if he had trouble sleeping because of nightmares.

He admitted he truly saw little in his dreams, but felt chasms that threatened to swallow him up, and the terror of that blackness kept him awake. You knew what awaited him in that blackness. Since then, you’ve always kept your phone on loud.

“Stevie got you a dress from Paris,” Bucky mumbled, wiping the corners of his mouth with a brown napkin, hiding the slightest hint of a smirk. “I don’t think it’s your style, though.”

You raised an eyebrow, sweeping bits of crust into the empty wrapper of your lunch. “Oh yeah? Steve picked it out? What’s it like?”

“It’s red. ‘S real nice, but it’s also red.”

You scrunched up your nose in concern. “Oh… I hope it won’t hurt his feelings if I don’t wear it.”

Bucky went to throw both of your crumpled trash piles away and returned with an understanding smile, “Nah. He’s a big boy. Party’s in two days, though. If you don’t find anything you’re gonna get stuck with it, hon.”

Sighing, you stood up and brushed off your shirt, “Yeah. I’ll look some more. I put a dress on hold earlier so if I don’t find anything else, I’ll go back to that one. Thanks for having lunch with me, Bucky.” You pulled absentmindedly on his shirt sleeve and tugged the wrinkles out of the elbow. Bucky took the opportunity to bend down and plant a kiss on your jawline, whispering that he missed you into your cheek.  

“I’m not leavin’,” he said, removing the sunglasses that were hanging from the collar of his shirt, “Haven’t seen you in days, doll. I’m not leavin’ yet.”

The definitive statement was punctuated by another one of his keen stares. You swallowed as his clear blue eyes flitted back and forth between your own, finally settling on your mouth as you nervously breathed out a soft “Okay”. Your heart swelled in your chest as he smiled. You couldn’t help but lovingly follow the sly arc of his lips across and up to those joyful creases you so adored running from his eyes. Happy Bucky was your favorite Bucky. You wanted to make him look like this all the time. You felt so terrible that you’d been so busy and avoiding him.

Impulsively, you reached up and kissed him on the lips.

It was quick, and you stood back flat on your feet, hand shooting up to cover your mouth. Fearfully, you took a chance to peek at him. The two of you stood there next to the window staring at each other for a few seconds before Bucky broke out into a wide toothy grin.

You flushed from head to toe. Your first kiss. In a sandwich shop. The banality of it all dawned on you and before you had the chance to say anything, Bucky broke the silence with a hearty laugh. Soon enough, you joined in, burying your face in both your hands. People were starting to glance over to the window and stare, so Bucky grabbed you by the hand and briskly stepped out into the street. He caught your waist to turn you to face him, pressing your back against the brick wall of the shop. The chatter of Manhattan whipped around both of you in the background, full of footsteps and yelling, honking, dogs barking, construction. Bucky Barnes held tight to your sides as if you might get torn into in the sea of people behind him.

Under the shade of his cap’s bill, you could hardly see his eyes, but the light illuminated his mouth, which was pressed into a thin line.

You squinted as sunlight fell over your face, “Buck?”

The intensity of Bucky crashing his lips to yours ripped the breath from your lungs. He stepped forward into your body, pressing his broad chest against you, flesh hand pushing your torso against his. In the middle of the sidewalk, he erased all the noise of Manhattan. You could only hear his breath on your mouth as he parted and returned again and again. Three deep kisses later, he let you go.

You gulped, heart stammering, lost completely in ragged breaths and desperately trying to ignore the eyes of passing strangers who’d witness your moment of public affection. You had seen this coming for a while now, but it was still a shock.

Ever since the day on the couch, you had been trying to avoid physical intimacy, but it had been difficult to experience growing closer with Bucky and simultaneously disregard his longing for your touch. He was always holding back, like a predator in the tall grass.

“I wanna do so much more than that…” He whispered in your ear. His voice was deep, and you could hear his throat clenching as he swallowed. The sound burrowed its way into your brain, sending currents scampering through your body.

Bucky ran his hand along your jaw, one final kiss landing on the shell of your ear as he muttered, “When you’re ready, I will. Come on, you lead the way.”

All you could do was nod in response as he guided you in front of him, one hand resting again on your back as you tried to stay calm in the crowd. In a few mere minutes, the street changed as you turned a corner. Your heart was beginning to slow down again.

“I’m curious, doll,” Bucky called from behind you, running a finger up and down the small of your back, “What color was that dress you put on hold?”

From the way his words sounded, you knew he was smirking. “It was black.” You swerved to the side to avoid a man pushing a stroller and Bucky followed suit. Craning your head back to see his expression, your heart sped up again either by his tightening grip or his subsequent praise:

“Atta girl.”

-

The last Saturday in June was the 28th. Pepper had demanded that you stayed at your apartment until the evening of, setting you up with a full-day spa appointment on Friday. According to her (and your very exhausted body) you needed rest and pampering before the big night. She also insinuated that Tony was being incredibly high-strung with setting up; he wanted it to be a surprise, and if you’d step foot on the campus before he was ready, he might completely “lose it Bridezilla-style”.

You’d been video-chatting Steve at night on the phone before bed since spending the day with Bucky. He was at first disappointed that you decided not to wear the dress he’d gotten you but ultimately understood why: red was a high-profile color. He sheepishly admitted that he was a bit old-fashioned, and was a sucker for women in red. It was cute. You suggested that he ask Natasha instead.

Your heart swelled any time his face came on the screen and you couldn’t help but stupidly grin every night into the phone. He told you about the trip and his desire to one day take you to the city, glossing over the details of the errand itself. You didn’t mind- it wasn’t your job, and you likely wouldn’t have understood its significance. He brought up how he was concerned at first that the distance would cause discomfort- but perhaps it was the consent to distance that changed the rules. You knew where he was going and accepted it, and so neither of you were pained by the separation.

“Maybe on the more peaceful missions, you might like to come with me? It’d be like travelling again, huh?” You agreed, eager to see another endearing smile break across his face. You loved the way Steve closed his eyes as he smiled, long lashes folding to graze against his raised cheeks- it was a habit of his, and it made you curious to wonder what he thought of during those blissful expressions.

After your long spa day you ended your night with another video call, feeling the excitement growing closer and closer, emboldened by Steve’s encouragements. More changes were coming on the horizon and you felt ready to face them. You were glad to have both men by your side.

 Promptly at 5, Pepper sent a car outside to wait outside your apartment door. The invitation you’d proofread for Tony stated that doors opened at 6:30 with a cocktail hour and viewing period before any announcements were made. You would be giving a talk at 8, unveiling the main auction piece at the end and then there would be a bidding period before the night unwinds with dancing. The event supposedly ended at midnight, but you were sure that was Tony’s way of ushering out the guests. You weren’t going to assume he’d turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of 12.

Blotting on the final layer of your lip stain, you swept over it with a coat of high-shine gloss. Your make up was done simply: filled in, full, arching brows; barely-there contouring to emphasize your bone structure; peach blush; and a single smooth black line over both your eyelids. Your hair was brushed back and tucked behind your ears, flowing over your shoulder in neat waves.

You wanted to be sleek and able to blend in, with just a touch of red-lipped-conspicuous.

Stepping into the lobby, you felt as if transported into a different world. Tony had transformed the chamber into a flawless gallery setting with your photographs, framed and displayed along the perimeter of the open-spaced room. He’d put in wall panels here and there along with several benches where viewers could sit, arranging it perfectly to where there was plenty of walking space and room to mingle. Along the right wall was an elegant backlit bar manned by three sharply dressed bartenders with dazzling smiles. Close by was a stage with a band plucking a lazy acoustic tune in their warm-up routine, accompanied by a harpist. Gorgeous floral arrangements stood tall on pedestals, their sweet scent hanging in the air. Servers wandered casually, silver trays in hand topped with hor d'oeuvres and champagne.

The first few guests were arriving, picking up pamphlets from the stand near the door and meandering through the maze of photos. The team was scattered around the room, dressed beautifully, all smiles. Natasha hypnotized in the stunning red gown Steve picked out. It was striking with an elegant sweetheart neckline and brocade skirt. Pepper wore violet tulle. Wanda was smoldering in a lacy brown long-sleeved dress.

The men were simply dashing, in various dark suits offset by their own choices of silk bowties and shirts. Sam’s collar brooches glimmered- two mirroring silver wings clipped neatly to the points of his muted garnet shirt collar.

Halfway to the bar, you came face-to-face with Steve, who wore a fitted deep navy suit and dress shirt, complimented by a silk burgundy tie. His hair- which had grown longer since you’d last seen him in person was swept back and to one side. He was clean shaven for the event. You realized you were staring, but it helped that he was staring right back.

“You look...”

“Oh m...my” You attempted to finish the sentence for him. Steve laughed, shrugging one shoulder, the drink in his hand sloshing around.

“Not quite what I was going to say- but very close.” He paused, looking you up and down before sweeping you up in a one-armed hug and whispering in your ear “I’ve missed you so much. You look incredible.”

Once back on your feet, you smoothed the front of your black dress and shyly smiled in response, feeling your heart flutter. The snug gown was made of a satin blend, moving and shifting ethereally and just barely swept the floor. Two hair-thin spaghetti straps held it in place, crisscrossing over your back. The neckline was a darting V-shape, stopping just half an inch above Steve’s mark.

You’d convinced yourself to be calm and cool, playing the part of a professional artist giving a talk, but it was hard to not be giddy when Steve looked so damn good. His arms were practically bulging out from the sleeves of his jacket. And the lightly spiced cologne he wore was filling your head up with smoke.

“Where’s um, Bucky?” You ventured to ask, steeling your voice.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”

Bucky rolled the last ‘r’ into your ear as he placed his cool metal hand on your bare shoulder, middle finger drumming against the thin strap. You stirred at the temperature, burning against your back as he moved to your right side, smirking at Steve. They must have planned this, you thought, or perhaps brevity between old friends was enough to place them on the same dangerous wavelength. You felt like a fresh carcass, exposed under sunlight while two ravenous vultures circled overheard.

He was dressed completely in black, save for a blood-red pocket square neatly tucked into the breast of his suit. His hair was left loose, one side tucked behind his ear, and he donned his signature 5 o’clock shadow. He didn’t bother to cover his metal hand tonight, which made him all the more fearsome-looking. Bucky must have made it his mission to personify the word feral.

Half-lidded eyes drank in your figure, appreciatively scanning up and down before catching on your left bicep. “You’ve covered up your arm,” He noticed. “Why?” The was an edge of hurt he tried to hide.

The offending black cuff glimmered in the light. “Same reason why I didn’t wear the red.” You replied. You lifted your chin to regard Bucky and he raised his eyebrows in surprise at your declaration.

Steve bobbed his head, just enough to share the message that he understood before plucking a champagne flute from a passing server and placing it in your grasp. You sipped and signaled to the entrance of the exhibit with your stiletto-encased foot, where Kristopher Byrne had just entered with a pamphlet and Tony Stark. “I’ve got to go say hi. Thank you for supporting me.”

It was a conclusive statement, and the thanks, although sincere, was a comment of courtesy to lighten the mood. You quickly squeezed both of their arms before stepping away, straightening your back and squaring your shoulders. The show had just begun, and you were expected to be engaged and conversing all night; you couldn’t kick it off with a lovers’ quarrel in the middle of the floor as much as you wanted to resolve the matter. Bucky would have struggled and there were, unfortunately, other pressing concerns.

The band began to belt out a tune, mellow and full of slow, savory notes. The lobby was half-full at this point, and more were waiting by the door. The boys watched you go, exchanging glances. Bucky was scowling.

“Don’t be like that,” Steve warned, “You got to spend all day with her, pal.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” He was being petulant, he knew. It was easier to be angry than to admit that his feelings were hurt. “Don’t lecture me, Stevie. Just wanna fuckin’ be with her. I’m tired of all this… shit.”

Steve chuckled into his glass as he took a sip, savoring the taste and looking at his friend through the curved angle of the rim. He’d experienced his fair share of Bucky’s seething tantrums; he knew it’d pass.

“Gotta admit, Buck. I liked seein’ ya miffed. You need a firm hand.”

Bucky scowled deeper at his friend’s cheeky comment as he watched your back make nice with a stranger. The itch inside of him was growing darker with every step you took away. He’d been good, played it safe and slow by your- and Steve’s rules, but every time it felt like you might scratch the surface of his desire, you’d backed off. Seeing his mark covered up on your arm only made it worse.

Sending Steve a pained look, Bucky quietly retreated to the bar.

 Kristopher Byrne was a tall and lanky man with silver hair, fingers studded with multiple rings and designer glasses sitting low on his nose-bridge. The suit he wore matched Tony in embellishments, and it was obvious by that alone that they got along swimmingly. Immediately after introducing yourself to him, his solemn expression softened into an ecstatic one. He kissed your hand, raving about how he’d been a fan for years but that you’d always eluded his grasp. You immediately thanked him and asked if he was ready for a stroll through the displays.

Byrne was very interested in the photos you’d taken in Russia, pausing to talk about the social unrest there regarding sexuality. He applauded your shots in Thailand, complimenting the rich colors of Chiang Mai and the quiet moments you captured.

You spent the next half hour walking through the photos with Tony and Byrne, chatting here and there with other guests who had questions. The information cards next to each picture was brief and explained a little bit about the image but hearing it from your point of view was much more valuable to them.

Tony set up the exhibit to first show your Peculiar Pairs series from the travels before introducing the Avengers photos. The range of colors started at full spectrum and highly saturated with your travels before slowly changing into the black and white portraits you shot of each member.

Upon entering the space of black-and-white portraits, he was greeted with a three-by-four-foot framed photo of Steve in stark lighting. He stood in front of a black background in a white t-shirt, looking into the distance as a bright halo illuminated him from behind, catching the fine contour of his lashes and the tip of his sharp nose. The features of his face were lit by another light in front. His expression was almost angelic with parted lips and the barest hint of a smile.

Byrne’s eyes widened as he regarded it, eager to uncover more information about the man captured in the image. The info card in the corner simply read Steven Grant Rogers.

You watched on as Byrne rotated himself around the frame, pondering deeply at Steve’s aspects. Tony smirked and made a snarky comment about how he hoped Byrne was this excited about his own picture.

“Captain America,” Byrne finally exhaled, “Looks like … someone you could sit next to on the subway. Wow. Fantastic.”

You thanked him. Perhaps it was your bias speaking, but you casually mentioned that it was one of your personal favorites. Tony stifled a barking cough.

Byrne led the way down the path, soliciting your process with each session. You were tight-lipped but let loose of what was necessary to keep him interested. It didn’t take much; there was nowhere else neither he nor any other guest could find a close-up portrait of Natasha wrapped tight in a bathrobe, hair wrung-dry and damp, chin resting on her fist, making such fierce eye-contact as if challenging the gaze of the person who’d caught her in a private moment.

Or Tony, a face well-known to smirk, sneer, and blow kisses, suddenly severe and deep in thought, tinted glasses hanging from his teeth.

Thor grinned behind a half-empty glass of beer in his portrait. Sam was reading a book. Bruce was cutting up a breakfast of an omelet and potatoes.

Bucky’s photo elicited gasps from Byrne as well as the crowd he’d started to draw around him. The session you had with him was rather difficult, since he challenged you at every turn. So many images from your roll you’d deemed too stern, an aspect that you didn’t want captured of Bucky. The Winter Soldier was grim and ominous. Bucky, your Bucky (as hesitant as that statement was), was not. You refused to let him resign himself to the Soldier’s shadowy persona, especially not after knowing just how bright he could be.

It had taken almost two hours of careful conversation for him to let you turn off the lights and put on music. You chose to play one of your favorites- a collection of Bill Withers’ essential hits, letting the suave compositions fill the room. He was ready to argue when the first few notes came on, but you strictly shook your head and brushed out his hair with your fingers before moving on to massage his tense neck. Jagged edges, you chanted in your head, take care of those jagged edges.

It was an intimate moment from anyone else’s point of view- but you were so occupied with ensuring a good photo, you had willfully ignored all signs of pleasure from your subject. He leaned into your touch the harder you pressed, and when you reached down the round collar of his black shirt to feel the muscles of his back, he had started panting hard and fast.

You asked him to freeze and quickly ran back to snap a few shots. Then, certain you’d gotten what you needed, you ushered Bucky out of the room with a short apology before anything escalated.

The resulting photograph was Bucky’s side-profile leaning back on the palms of his hand on a stool, grey background blurred and out of focus. The collar of his shirt was stretched and warped around his neck under dense wavy hair. His eyes were half open, distracted by something in the distance, lips closed, corners turned down in a wanton pout. The muscles in his arms were thick and contracted as he gripped forcefully on the seat. There was a fuzzy shadow cast over him, just enough to obscure a corner of his shoulder and clenched jaw.

The card read, James Buchanan Barnes.

Kristopher Byrne clapped and ran the back of his hand over his forehead.

“This one… just takes my breath away. This is really Sergeant Barnes? The Winter Soldier? He looks so helpless… So unlike the image I have of him.”

You searched across the expanse of the room to find the sergeant in question. Next to him, Steve firmly patted his shoulder as they watched you stand beneath Bucky’s picture. With a slight swing of your hips, you unflinchingly moved on.

-

At 8, the band winded down their percussions and a spotlight found Tony at the center of the lobby, microphone in hand. Guests gathered around as he began to speak. Two workers wheeled out a display that was covered up by a black cloth.

“Everyone, may I please have your attention.” When the crowd settled down enough for his liking, he continued effortlessly. “I’d like to formally welcome you to the exhibition. The photographer of the night is a friend of mine; you might know her as the visionary behind the popular Soulmate Series and the subsequent Peculiar Pairs- wow, what a mouthful, huh?” A round of soft chuckles was raised.

You stood next to Natasha and Pepper, taking a final sip of your third champagne flute before handing it off to a server and thanking him. Your heart was picking up a rhythm in apprehension of your approaching time to speak. Tony was leaps and bounds more charming than you, and you could only hope you wouldn’t trip over your feet on your way up.

“She’s taken the world by storm with her humor, wit, and sensitivity on a subject we’ve all heard before, and continues to shed a novel light on Soulmates. To us here at the Avengers Facility, she’s our lovable Public Relations twerp, near and dear to our hearts.” He paused. You were positive you were tearing up as pinpricks burn your nasal passages.

“Please give a warm round of applause to the one, the only…”

Tony flourished his pointer finger over the crowd before finally settling on you, the spotlight zooming over to shine on the water pooling in your eyes. He finally called out a boisterous thundering of your name as the room erupted in applause.

The room blurred as you stepped towards Tony. Mechanical movements and muscle memory guided your actions when he gave you a loving hug and kiss on the cheek. The microphone was suddenly in your hands and you began to speak, praying for whatever god above (or here- Thor, if this might be your territory) to bless you with grace.

“Thank you everyone for coming out tonight. And thank you Tony and Pepper, who’ve made all of this possible for me.”

It felt like there were half a million eyes staring. You only needed to find your footing in four blue ones. Pressing onward, you continued, hoping the quiver of your throat would flatten itself out as you began to chronicle your body of work. It was a speech you’d given before in multiple interviews, you just needed a lead into the meat of the lecture.

“The photos you see tonight of the Avengers were taken with a simple message in mind: humanity. So often we regard them as these supernatural saviors- which they can be and frequently are; Thor, for one, is an Asgardian god.” The crowd lightly chuckled, and Thor, in the back, raised a sizable glass of wine in the air.

“I didn’t want to create more cults of personality around them, I wanted you to see the parts of them you could identify with, juxtaposing the abnormal with the normal. Your heroes eat breakfast, read books, take baths... just like you.” There was contemplation gazing back at you in the massive sea of unblinking eyes. Some people chewed on their lips pensively. Others were nodding along in agreeance.

“They hurt, like you.” You looked at Bucky, who met your gaze with a silent apology, “They love, like you.” You looked at Steve, who bit his lips in a smile. “They have soulmates, like you. And with that, we come full circle.”

You turned your body to face the shrouded display and pinch the cloth between two fingers.

“I’d like to start the auction period off with piece de resistance. As with all our photos tonight, when you bid on them, know that if won, they will be singularly yours. Forever. No duplicates will be made; the files have been destroyed.” Tugging on the sheet with a flourish, you swiftly pulled it off the polished stand to reveal a framed photo of the Maximoff twins. The discarded fabric tumbled to the floor with a flutter.

Pietro stood shirtless and defiant in the photo, black jeans hanging from his hips, the barest hint of his boxers peeking out. His body was smooth and hard, naturally flawless thanks to his inhuman healing abilities. Next to him, Wanda faced away from the camera in a black racerback, her head turned to regard her twin. Her hand drew a line across his chest, wrist relaxed on his far shoulder, polished black fingernails lovingly twirled a bleached curl. Their Marks were in full view, and the audience collectively sucked in a sharp breath of surprise.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff: Avengers, twins, soulmates.”

The room erupted once more in applause. You handed the microphone back to Tony and disappeared into the crowd.

-

You felt ill.

Clutching on the smooth marble countertop, you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. The dim yellow lighting from the shell-shaped wall scone flooded the room and made you look even more jaundiced. You had held it together for a whole three hours but now it was time to dump your entire stomach’s contents into the closest toilet. You barely made it before the champagne and bits of cheese ejected violently from your mouth.

You waited briefly for the nausea to pass and when it didn’t you returned to discharge the rest of your vomit into the bowl. In the stall a few spaces down, someone flushed before cautiously exiting. Three clicks of footsteps closer and there was a very light knock on the door that separated you from them.

Wanda stood over you, eyebrows tightly knitted in concern. She hoisted you up and the toilet flushed automatically upon registering movement. You wobbled to the counter again, opening the various cabinet doors before finding some mouthwash to gargle.

“Can I help you?” She asked, taking a cloth napkin from the wicker basket in the middle and dabbing around your red mouth after you’d spit into the sink. You sighed deeply, holding your hand over your torso. “It’s been a long month… that was actually more cathartic than traumatic.” She nodded in support.

You took the napkin from her and viciously wiped off the lipstick with it, peppermint smell lingering from your mouth. Your eyes began to focus and un-focus competitively and ghostly trails of color floated all around your head. Wanda followed your gaze with her eyes before pressing a warm palm to your temple.

“I can take it away, if you’d like,” she held up a splayed hand, fingers crackling with that ghostly energy of hers. Exhaling, you only nodded as she returned the heel of her palm to your forehead. A rush of tingles travelled up your body and into her hand, and you feel every inch of your skin crawling towards her. You’d forgotten how exhausted you’ve been for the past month as your head throbbed and ached against Wanda’s touch, mumbling what you hoped was a sincere-sounding thanks.  

When she finishes, Wanda lifts up your head with her finger and smiles. “All better, no?” When she walks you into the lobby, you feel yourself renewed with each step.

-

Steve thinks he can find you in any universe out there. Any timeline. Any dream. He’s got the shape of your body branded inside his brain. Every eyelash, every fine line, every damn pore.

When you cross the room with Wanda on your arm, smiling, he notices the lipstick has been rubbed off and your mouth is pink and raw. When you catch sight of him watching, Wanda departs gracefully and whispers into your ear a sweet note, wishing you a fruitful night onward. Your mind stills at her words, and your heart picks up a slow, steady beat when your feet end up in front of Steve at the edge of the room.

Steve knows he can.

He bends over to pull a lock of wavy hair into his hand and kiss it. The room is silent, conversations have long muted because of auction taking place. You’re no longer present, long gone from the party and adrift only in the blue-green sea of his gaze.

Steve allows the strands back onto your shoulder and they cascade over your back. He lets the scent of clean shampoo and something that is purely you wash over him. The crisp smell of seafoam and orange peels, summer rain, warm laundry in the sun. There’s a sheen layer of sweat in the dip of your neck that he’d love to get a mouthful of. The flame in his chest triggers.

He’ll have to thank Wanda later. Your posture is the most relaxed he’s seen you all night. The stiff square shoulders and domineering gait was a side of you he hadn’t seen before, a sight he couldn’t help but feel proud of as you commanded the room. However, he loved the natural you in front of him now most.

He doesn’t have to hear your words to know how you feel, but listens anyway.

“Thank you,” You smile, looking only at him, vaguely gesturing to the room full of people. Your voice has dropped low and earnest and you squeeze his hand just a little bit before anyone else sees. “I... I couldn’t have done this without you. I would have never done it.”

He nods and bows his head ever so slightly, peering at you through lashes. “I’m happy to have helped. You know that, sweetheart. I know you’re capable of so many great things… I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He rubs the edge of your mouth with a finger.

“Yeah.. I guess you’re used to seeing me like this, huh?” You giggle, embarrassed and remembering all the times you’ve thrown up because of his presence.

“I think even then, I had a feeling. Just… too afraid to come forward. After I learned how to use a computer…” He’s smiling at the memory, “..I used to spend all night looking at your photos… trying to find a picture of you somewhere.”

The thought of Steve, back then, already captivated by anything to do with you causes your breathing to pick up. You suck in air through your nostrils quickly as if you might be suffocating. A long moment passes as you pinch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Honey?” He asks with a smile. He knows what’s coming.

You’re spellbound in his gaze, trapped like a moth, wings already soldered off by the flame. “I’d like to stay the night, I think. With you... and … B-Bucky.”

Steve plucks your hand from your side and kisses each knuckle. “Of course. Tony already said he’ll handle the rest of the show and paperwork. Let me know when you’re ready to go. We’ll take it slow.”

It’s a promise, and he doesn’t have to wait for your next words to know what you want. But he does so anyway. He needs to hear it.

“I’m... ready now.”

When Steve slips his hand over yours and feels the familiar pulse of your thumbprint, he knows. In this universe, this lifetime, or the next, or the next after that, he’d be able to find you. He is yours; you are his. With every step, he lets the fantasies he’s been occupied with disperse, focusing his attention solely on your figure at his side. The hallway muffles the sounds of the party and each step grows louder as you depart hand-in-hand.

 -

In the darkness of his room, your Soulmate kneels and unbuckles the strap of your stiletto, letting his fingers graze over your feet. He’s meticulous as he slips them off one at a time before trailing those calloused palms up your calves underneath the dress. The silky cool fabric brushes his knuckles, a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. You’re trembling against his hold as he continues upward, resting them on the back of your thighs, squeezing gently.

“Sweetheart, you’re shaking.” He presses two kisses to the top of each thigh underneath the dress. His hot breath sends tingles slinking upwards into the pit of your core. “We can stop any time. We can stay in bed together and just sleep. I’d love that.”

You shake your head and place your hands over his, pulling them up even higher, over the apex of your bottom, brushing over your underwear, and catching in the tightness of the fabric. The motion is all he needs, and Steve deftly reaches up to untie the knotted bow at the small of your back.

The satin falls off your shoulders and pools at your feet.

Next Chapter

[slash-em-up]

A Meeting of the Minds pt. 4: The Collector x Reader x ChromeSkull

This one carries a heavy TW for mentions of suicide and infant death - nothing that should come as a surprise if you’ve seen the after-credits scene in L2R2; but better safe than sorry....

———————————————————————

It was a well-known, but rarely addressed fact that of the three of you, Jesse - oddly enough - was the one with the best track record in relationships.

You’d pried it out of Asa one night when Jesse was off dealing with business of a more… bloody nature.

“You know he was married, and now he’s not. Why are you digging?”

You scowled at Asa. Finding it highly annoying that he was so casual about something that seemed like such a big deal to you.

He didn’t even look up from the laundry he was folding as you stomped up to his side.

“Aren’t you at least a little bit interested? Who were they? Why did it end? Does he want to get married again some day?”

Asa snapped one of his button-down shirts out with a flick. The side-eye he sent your way was communicating ‘you’re an idiot’ in THX.

“I’m not interested because I already know –“

You opened your mouth.

“- and before you ask, no, I will not tell you. It’s Jesse’s private business.”

“You are no fun at all.”

Your statement was met with a small smirk and a shrug.

On your way out of the room you swiped Asa’s glasses off of the dresser in retaliation.

Enjoy reading ‘Bugs Quarterly’ or whatever without these, nerd.

———————————————————————

The car ride over to Jesse’s ‘company headquarters’ was pleasant enough. You were incredibly grateful you’d let your men talk you into letting them buy you a new car because the convertible top was really working wonders on your mood.

You pulled up to the nondescript factory building and punched in the gate code Jesse had given Asa and yourself. A black-clad security duo met you as you parked in front of the entrance, each offering you a tight nod and a crisp ‘Ma’am’.

Smiling, you let yourself into the lobby - if you could call it that. If anyone walked in off the street, they might think they had just entered the worlds dingiest janitorial company… or maybe a chop-shop. But one swipe of your thumb on the scanner took you back to the actual office space, which was all gleaming black floors and matte metals. Very industrial-chic.

The first person you stopped in the hall and asked to direct you to ‘Mr. Cromeans office’ looked at you like you were either a corporate spy or someone with more than a few screws loose…. Maybe a combo of the two; but gamely pointed you towards a large pair of ebony wood doors.

There was barely a sound from the door as you opened it just wide enough to poke your head through and scan the room, looking for your boyfriend.

Jesse was the farthest thing from a small, unobtrusive man; but even he could have been dwarfed by the sheer size of his office. You don’t know why you were surprised. Leave it to Jesse to have an office larger than your last apartment…

Speaking of… the man of the office was apparently still taking care of business, because unless he was hiding underneath the desk (could happen, it was big enough), the room was completely empty.

What an excellent opportunity to do a little snooping…

You sidled up to the highbacked leather chair that sat imposingly behind Jesse’s desk and took a seat. The leather felt like butter underneath your fingers and you couldn’t help but wriggle around a bit, enjoying the plush padding and broad seat which had clearly been custom made for a man of Jesse’s stature.

Giggling lightly, you tucked your feet up underneath yourself and ran your hands over the dark wood of the desk, tugging gently at several drawers, hoping one or two would pop open and share their treasures with you. Happily, several were unlocked, and with great glee you began to rifle through Jesse’s knickknacks and paperwork.

You weren’t really sure if he’d have any kind of information on his ex-wife just chilling in his desk but hey, you were already pretty infamous among your guys as a busybody – much to Asa’s ire and Jesse’s amusement – so every little detail was of interest.

Snorting in amusement, you pushed a drawer containing a chrome-cased Switch and three different boxes of condoms closed, and smiled as your questing located an old digital photo frame in the lowest drawer– because heaven forbid Jesse would ever have something so pedestrian as a physical photo…

You plugged the frames power cord into a port by the lamp and waited a moment as the screen came to life.

The first image that popped up was the overview screen – it looked like there were only three pictures saved on the tiny card inserted into the back. Oh well, better than nothing.

It took you a moment to recognize the person staring back at you from the small image as Jesse. The height should have been a dead giveaway; but the wide, toothy grin on the unscarred lips of the man threw you for a loop. You still thought Jesse was very attractive; but before his accident? An absolutely stunning man. The kind you would have lusted over from a distance in college.

Moving your focus, you turned your attention to the woman Jesse had one of his long arms wrapped around. This must be the former Mrs. Cromeans.

She was gorgeous. No two ways about it. Every bit of her looked perfectly put together, from the roots of her stylishly cut blonde hair to the tips of the soft-looking manicured hands she had delicately placed on the table in front of her. They both looked so happy…

You swiped to the next image.

Mrs. Cromeans stared up from the picture – her smiling face trained on something above the camera. She was outside, and clearly in the middle of saying something as her mouth was slightly open as if forming words – looking no less pretty for it – while the sun shone down on her at a fetching angle. You’d bet anything that this was one of Jesse’s photos. He had an eye for that sort of thing.

Another swipe.

A sharp gasp broke from your lips as soon as you realized what you were seeing in the next picture.

Black, white, and grey morphed together in the ultrasound picture, giving you the vague, but unmistakable image of a tiny head, legs, feet, and hands.

The text of the photo read ‘Crom, M. GA: 12w6d’.

“Oh my god…” you could hardly believe what the image was telling you. Jesse was a father? What the fuck had happened?

Shutting off the power with a quick flick, you lowered the frame back to where you’d found it – halting all movement as a file folder loudly proclaiming ‘Federal Bureau of Investigations’ on the front with a white label reading ‘Cromeans, M. 31/10/2011’ caught your attention.

Pulling it out from underneath the pile of random papers, you held it for a moment. The sinking feeling in your stomach telling you that you wouldn’t like what you found inside.

You were right.

Blood spattered walls of what looked like a police interrogation room were the first thing you saw when you peeled back the front of the folder – blood, gore, and in the next photo, the nearly unrecognizable body of Mrs. Cromeans. Skimming the contents of the report you gagged at the unemotional tone the writer took as they described springing the news of her husbands status as a wanted man, including pictures from one of Jesse’s murders, to the very pregnant woman. Tears began to fall from your eyes as you read further – her shocked denial… grabbing a gun from the agent… a single shot… unable to save the baby…

A sob broke from your lips as you tossed the file and it’s horrific contents back into the drawer. You had enough forethought left to re-cover it with papers, hiding the fact that it had been disturbed in the first place; before you stood on shaky legs and ran from the office.

——————————————————————

The trip back to Asa’s house was a blur. Nothing registered until the door slammed behind you, and you slowly lowered yourself to the floor, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

You felt, more than saw Asa approach you from the living room. He crouched down in front of you, gently grasping your face in one large hand and raising your eyes to meet his. The stoic man was hard to read on the best days; but right now his pursed lips and furrowed brow clearly showed a mixture of concern and annoyance.

He sighed deeply as he wrapped an arm under your knees and one behind your back, gently hoisting you into the air and carrying you up the stairs towards the bedroom.

You buried your face into his broad shoulder, and for once he didn’t complain about you staining the fabric with your tears.

“I told you to leave it alone.” He murmured quietly.

Nodding in agreement, you promised yourself that next time Asa told you that you didn’t want to know something, you’d listen.

The bed squeaked as you were gently set on it, feeling numb and tired as your shoes were removed and a quilt was draped over you.

“Sleep now. I’ll wait up for Jesse.”

Humming out your assent, your sore eyes closed, and exhaustion took over in minutes. The door closed quietly as the horrors and sadness of the day drove you into an uneasy slumber.

———————————————————————

Pale blue light woke you from your dreams of blood, and it took you a moment to focus on the numbers being projected onto the white ceiling.

2:15 AM Tuesday

You knew Asa preferred his analogue alarm clock, so that must mean Jesse was home…

Turning slightly, you found yourself spooned up against the large man. Asa was nowhere to be seen; but you often found yourself missing a partner when the urge to indulge in their ‘hobbies’ struck.

Deep, even breathing into your hair told you that Jesse was fast asleep – his trips always took a lot of energy out of him – even though you knew from experience that his mood and libido would be high for the next few days.

Reaching back, you pulled one of his large arms across your waist, bringing his hand up and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it before settling it lightly next to your heart.

You didn’t know if you wanted to talk to him about his wife anymore. You were afraid, you were nervous, and you didn’t want to hurt Jesse by re-opening old wounds.

Asa probably hadn’t said anything to Jesse -more out of his own desire to avoid any emotional upheavals than any protective action over your own mis-step; but you would be thankful for his silence at any rate.

You’d heard somewhere that what’s dead should stay buried; and right now the words of the phrase rang truer than they ever had.

If Jesse wanted to talk to someone about his dead wife and child… you were here for him. But the more you thought about it the less appealing having that conversation became. It was as simple as that.

Eyes closing once more, you drifted back into slumber. Determined to keep the ghosts of your lovers past exactly where they were.

[persona-ego-shadow-soul]

Ships in the Night Chapter 1 - Serendipity

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Angst, Smut

Pairings: Yoongi x Hoseok, Seokjin x Jungkook, Namjoon x Jimin

Summary:  Life is full of moments and choices. What happens when you suddenly meet the one, but you weren’t ready? Do you seize the moment or do you pass each other like two ships in the night? 

Word Count: 12K+

Author’s Note: This is a joint collaboration with @caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma​_________________________

Our meeting is like a mathematical formula Commandments of religion, providence of the universe The evidence of destiny given to me You’re the source of my dream Take it, take it My hand reaching out to you is my chosen fate Don’t worry, love None of this is a coincidence We’re totally different, baby Because we’re the two who found our destiny ____________________________

Chapter 1 - Serendipity

Jimin groaned with annoyance into his pillow as he snoozed his cell phone alarm for the umpteenth time that morning. He had not been getting enough sleep the last few days now that the semester is in full swing. Already, he was starting to feel the combined stress of classes, assignments, exams, and on top of all that, he was preparing for his sophomore dance recital at the end of the semester. Before he could even open his sleep-heavy eyes, his best friend and roommate unexpectedly burst into his tiny dorm room.

"WE HAVE A GIG!" Taehyung screeched as he jumped on top of Jimin and excitedly rattled the boy fully awake.

"What's goin' on?" Jimin mumbled as his eyes adjusted to the harsh light coming through his window while Taehyung continued to shake the entire bed in excitement.

"We have a gig! Friday night at the coffee bar!" he eagerly exclaimed as Jimin attempted to sit up, feeling all of his muscles scream in protest. Taehyung finally got off of the bed and continued to squee with delight while Jimin stretched out his aching limbs.

"Yoongi-hyung was able to work out a deal with the owner of the coffee shop since he started teaching piano to the owner’s younger son! We didn't even have to audition! Apparently, his son is doing so well in his piano lessons, the dad was happy to offer his coffee shop to us for the night. If he makes a profit during our set, he says we can play there whenever we like!" Taehyung explained with the biggest grin on his face and then he began to do his signature celebratory dance. Jimin looked at his best friend, and even though it aggravated all of his muscles, he stood up and started gleefully dancing along with Taehyung.

"That's awesome, Taehyungie! AND I don't have anything Friday night, so I will definitely be there to buy as many coffees as I can during your set to make sure you get weekly gigs!" Jimin promised.

They both bounced and danced around in Jimin's tiny room until his alarm rang yet again. This time, when he turned it off, he saw that he had less than 15 minutes to get ready and head over to his first class of the day, which was all the way across campus.

"Oh crap, I'm going to be late for class!” Jimin blurted as he rushed to put on his baggy sweatpants and overflowing hoodie and sneakers. “But we'll celebrate tonight, ok, Tae? What time do you get out?"  

Tae was still jumping and dancing in celebration as Jimin rushed to get all of his things into the dance bag where he carried all of his class materials and dance clothes.

"I'm not sure, Yoongi-hyung may want to call us for practice today since we now have a gig!" he said, his tone on the last five words escalated so happily that he practically shrieked.

"Well, it doesn't matter how late you get back because I'm going to go buy us a bottle of Prosecco so we can toast to your first gig, Taehyungie!" Jimin announced cheerfully as he unplugged his phone and started heading out into their very small open living room/kitchen. He rushed over to the counter, pulled out his thermos from the sink, rinsed it quickly, and poured coffee into it.

"Yeah!" Taehyung cheered as he followed Jimin while still dancing and jumping around. Jimin was quickly splashing some cream into the thermos and stirring in some sugar. He turned and hugged his best friend for a second and then dashed out the door while hastily yelling out "love you, see you tonight!"

Jimin rushed frantically down the stairs and ran as fast as his legs could take him. He was definitely going to have to do a recovery warm-up after so much exertion without properly warming up beforehand. Nevertheless, he was absolutely elated for Tae and his jazz combo. They had only just formed at the end of last semester and already they had a gig lined up. But how could they not? With Tae's skills with a tenor saxophone and that caramel-molasses-like baritone voice accompanied by the top piano student, Min Yoongi, they were sure to be a hit.

Jimin eventually made it to the Humanities building where his literature class was held. As he jogged up the steps, he realized that he didn’t remember grabbing his dance notebook from his bedside table. As he pulled the front door of the building open, he swung his bag around him and started searching for it in a panic. Fortunately, he found it and pulled it out with one hand, while still holding on to his thermos and backpack with the other. As a result of his intense focus in locating the notebook and maintaining his balance, he was distracted as he rounded the hallway corner and suddenly crashed into a powerful force much stronger than his own.

Jimin was suddenly thrown off balance, and instinctively, he dropped his thermos and notebook and turned to brace his fall. Before he fell to the floor, someone caught him in their arms and was holding him right above the ground.

Jimin opened his eyes and noticed the long strong arms around his body holding him steady. One arm was grasping the back of Jimin’s neck and the other was holding him around his waist. Anyone passing by would’ve assumed this person was dipping Jimin into a tender embrace. Jimin gingerly placed his hands on the chest of his unintentional savior. He felt a warm tightness underneath his small hands, and the taut muscles almost rippled beneath his fingertips. He shifted his eyes up to the person holding him with such care and his eyes widened as they gazed upon the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

He was wearing a white shirt underneath the softest, royal blue cardigan, he wore thick black-rimmed glasses, and he was so tall compared to Jimin. Even in the awkward position in which they found themselves, Jimin could feel the sizable height difference between them.

“I am so sorry,” the beautiful man spoke in a low husky voice while holding Jimin below him. He stepped back and pulled Jimin closer to him to bring them both upright. Jimin shifted his arms around the man’s neck to assist him. Once they were fully standing, Jimin realized he still had to stretch up a little more on his toes to keep his arms around the man, who was still holding on to Jimin’s waist. Both of them stepped back a little, but their hands remained on each other.

“I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he apologized to Jimin. “I hope you’re ok.”

Jimin noticed that the man was blushing profusely and he shot a tentative smile back at him.

“It’s ok, I was distracted too,” Jimin replied trying to keep himself from blushing in return. They chuckled awkwardly and pulled their hands away from each other.  Jimin ran his fingers through his hair and looked more closely at the gorgeous man standing before him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and was incredibly attractive, and the slight indentations in his cheeks were so cute that they prompted Jimin to shyly bite his lip.  

“Are you sure you’re ok? You were very close to hitting your head on the floor,” the man asked Jimin while moving closer to inspect him for any damages. The man’s fingertips ghosted over Jimin’s forehead, moving a few strands of hair away from his forehead while looking for injuries.

“I’m fine,” Jimin smiled, ducking his head down coyly. “Luckily, you caught me before I fell.”

Clearly, the flustered man still did not believe him and his eyebrows furrowed with concern. He pulled his hand away and seemed to struggle for a moment, not knowing what to do with himself. Jimin noticed his flustered state and instinctively stepped forward to put his hand on the man’s arm in reassurance.

“Really, I’m fine,” Jimin assured him sweetly. “I was just startled and then surprised at how quickly you caught me.”

The man breathed out in relief and offered Jimin a blinding smile. Jimin noticed the indentations morphed into the cutest deepest dimples on both cheeks that literally had Jimin swooning, his knees weak from the adorable sight.

Oh, that’s just not fair, Jimin thought as the man caught him once again as he swayed towards him.

“Whoa, are you sure you’re ok?” The man asked with deep concern in his voice attempting to assess Jimin’s condition better. “You look a little dizzy.

The guy was getting so close that Jimin had to tilt his head up to look up into his warm chocolate brown eyes. Jimin took a moment and sighed airily, then snapped out of it so he could properly collect his thoughts.

“Seriously, I’m good,” Jimin said looking down at himself. “Not a scratch on me.”

He noticed his thermos was still on the floor next to two identical black notebooks strewn against the wall. Before Jimin could reach down to pick up his things, Mr. Tall, Dimpled, & Gorgeous had already bent down and picked everything up for him.

“Again, I apologize for almost giving you a concussion. Here you go,” he said giving Jimin his coffee and notebook. “I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”

With the mention of time, Jimin quickly remembered he was already running late to class, so he squeaked out a hasty “Oh no!” and rushed past his attractive rescuer, running quickly up the staircase and making it to class just in time. He shoved his dance notebook into his backpack and pulled out his laptop for class.

It’s a shame I couldn’t stay to talk to him some more. It’s not every day you meet an actual bronzed god on campus. Sigh. Maybe some other time?

Jimin struggled to pay attention to the professor as his thoughts lingered on the strong hands and firm chest of the mysterious man who swept him off his feet.

———————————— Namjoon wandered back to his apartment in a complete daze. He felt like such a bumbling idiot. He had already been running late when he woke up, and he only had time to put on his favorite cardigan and some jeans and grab his poetry notebook and phone.

He had failed to read the email he received late last night explaining that his class had been canceled today and Friday. When he had arrived at his class in the Humanities building, he read the sign on the door which was just a facsimile of the email. He quickly decided to head back to his apartment and get some more sleep. Then he ran down the hallway and rounded the corner way too quickly, striking the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on like a freight train.

I’m just a clumsy stupid giant who couldn’t control his body any more than he could control his life. He thought as he continued to trek down the sidewalk like a mopey Sasquatch.

The younger male had reassured Namjoon several times that he was indeed fine, but Namjoon couldn’t help but feel concerned after the living angel smiled and swooned dizzily into his arms. It had been exceedingly difficult to let the younger man leave, but before Namjoon could carry the conversation any further, the most magnificent human being he’d ever laid eyes panicked and scampered past him like a spooked gazelle up the staircase.

God, those lips and that smile. Wow.

Namjoon’s steps slowed as he desperately latched onto the memory of that boy’s delicate fingers clinging to Namjoon’s shirt as he caught him just a few inches from the ground. His lips twitched as he remembered the way the ethereal man looked up at him with his wide eyes full of wonder and how Namjoon had panicked and stumbled through his words after that. It didn’t help matters much that Namjoon’s eyes tracked the man’s bottom lip as it was pulled up and held captive by his teeth. That one small gesture annihilated Namjoon’s composure completely and left him an awkward mess of a man.

Before he realized it, Namjoon had reached his apartment and his front door was opening and Yoongi stood in front of him.

“Joon-ah?” The elder asked with concern. “You alright, man?”

“Huh?” Namjoon said not really hearing Yoongi. Namjoon was still miles away at the Humanities building with that boy in his arms, still trying to figure out what to say to him to keep him there.

“You have the goofiest smile on your face, man,” Yoongi asked eyeing Namjoon more closely. “Did something happen in class?”

“Oh, nothing… uh, my class was canceled” Namjoon said trying to hide the awkward blush he could feel creeping across his face. He walked passed Yoongi and went straight to his room without another word.

Namjoon walked into his very dark and stuffy room, placed his notebook on his desk, and looked at his bed. He quickly realized he was not going to be able to go back to sleep. He felt so energized and alert after that encounter with the living male embodiment of Aphrodite, which he realized he had not felt in a very long time. With a sigh of resignation, he left his room again and headed into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

He couldn’t explain it, but he had an overwhelming urge to write, so he took his coffee and made a beeline back to his desk and opened up his laptop. Namjoon’s fingers stayed poised above the keys and he willed the words to flow, but he couldn’t bring himself to type a word. He’d been having a case of serious writer’s block, but now he felt energized and motivated, and he still couldn’t write a word. He looked around and groaned in frustration. Namjoon decided that maybe changing the lighting in his room would help get the creative juices flowing. He walked over to his window to open the heavy shades and let some of the daylight in. Once the room was bathed in the warmth of the sun, he went back to his desk and just stared at the screen unable to make any thoughts coalesce. His eyes landed on his poetry notebook, and he thought perhaps he could write a poem about his encounter earlier. He opened it and gasped.

This isn’t mine.

Then he remembered that when he bumped into the boy earlier, they had both dropped their notebooks, and when Namjoon had picked them up, he noticed how similar both notebooks looked, but he assumed that the one closer to the thermos belonged to the other boy.

He decided to look through the notebook in his hand, hoping to find a name. He felt nervous and as if he were going through someone’s private thoughts. He quickly gathered that this was the boy’s dance journal.

He had written about choreography, titles to music, and he had sketched out figures dancing around on the pages. There were notes from what Namjoon assumed had been his critiques. Namjoon was captivated by the drawings and elegant handwriting, but he felt wrong about reading it, so he stopped looking through it after he found no name or personal information to tell him who the boy had been.

Namjoon wondered if he should make his way back to the Humanities building or if maybe he should go by the Music and Dance building. Perhaps someone there could tell him the boy’s name. He began to get really excited about seeing that magical smile again, so he gathered up his things and headed back to campus with some definite pep in his step.

____________________________________

Jimin had felt rushed since his hectic morning, so once he arrived at the dance studio after his literature class, he took his time to finally do some proper stretches and properly warm-up all of his muscles and joints. There was still an hour before his contemporary class and he had the studio all to himself. He took it slow, the run from his dorm to the other side of campus was still straining his calf muscles. He began to stretch out his legs, feeling the tightness sting at first and then slowly ebb away. He made sure that he didn’t stretch too far because he was certain that they were doing a lot of floor work today. He needed his muscles warm, but not feeling like noodles.

When he finally felt all of the stress and stiffness vacate his body, he slowly made his way to the barre. He looked out of the massive wide window on the fourth floor of the building which overlooked the largest lawn on campus. It was not too cold today despite it being almost February, so there seemed to be more students on the grounds lingering on their way to classes. He looked away from the window and began to do some light barre work, paying special attention to his technique and form.

When Jimin finally felt warmed up, other dance students started filling in. He went to the front of the studio to pick up his bag and moved his things toward the side of the room in front of the mirror. It was then he realized that his friend Hoseok was late. Usually, Hoseok arrived just as early as Jimin, so it was odd that he hadn’t arrived yet. He’d been hoping to dish about his handsome savior from earlier to Hoseok, knowing that he would be the perfect person to gush with over a cute boy, but he was nowhere to be seen. Jimin reached into the front pocket of his backpack and was about to text Hoseok when the door open and his friend walked into the room.

Hoseok sauntered in and Jimin noticed that he was wearing his sunglasses. That struck Jimin as odd since there was not much sunshine outside; in fact, there was a gloomy late January sky outside. Jimin was about to greet him when Hoseok removed his glasses and Jimin noticed that Hoseok’s eyes looked gaunt and bloodshot. This was not the usually bubbly Hoseok that Jimin knew and loved, so something was amiss.

"Everything ok, hyung?" he asked tentatively trying to keep the worried tone out of his voice.

Hoseok nodded nonchalantly, took off his jacket, and placed his bag next to Jimin's bag. He offered Jimin a weak half-smile and turned away to start warming up, so Jimin took that as a “please don't ask” gesture and he let Hoseok warm-up in peace.

The room was now full and their instructor walked in, greeted them warmly, and began calling places for the opening group warm-up routine, so Jimin and Hoseok didn’t talk for the entirety of the class.

___________________________________

"You're doing great, you just have to make sure to count through the movement and hit here on two and here on four," Jimin explained, moving his arms in tempo to the counts.

As per usual, Jimin had stayed behind after class to tutor one of his struggling classmates in the day’s choreography. As one of the top dancers in the class, Jimin was often sought out to help the other dancers with their routines.  It didn’t hurt that Jimin was also an excellent instructor with a sweet, but firm teaching approach.

"Ok, I think I got it Jimin-ssi," his classmate said, trying out the move from the top of the routine and Jimin watched closely.

"Two and Four! Yes! That's it, you got it!" Jimin said reassuringly. They hugged and his classmate walked away to gather up their things at the front of the class.

"Thank you, Jimin-ssi! I feel so much better about this now," they grinned at Jimin while looking at their watch. His classmate gasped and rushed off thanking Jimin over again while they ran out of the studio late for class.

Jimin decided to practice that section of the choreography himself, and as he turned into the last pirouette, he noticed that Hoseok was still in the studio staring blankly out the window. Jimin stilled and began to walk towards him tentatively. He didn’t want to pry, but he was now rather concerned. Hoseok had been very quiet and unresponsive throughout class and now he looked like he was miles away drowning in a tangible sadness that was breaking Jimin's heart.

Jimin stood next to Hoseok and looked out the window, allowing his presence to be perceived, but not looking directly at Hoseok so as not to make him feel uncomfortable. If Hoseok wanted to talk, he could, but Jimin only wanted his friend to know that he was there for him.

A few minutes passed and Hoseok finally turned to face Jimin. Jimin looked at his friend, realizing Hoseok was crying quietly, the tears staining his pale cheeks.

"Oh, hyung!" Jimin sighed while pulling Hoseok into a hug as tenderly and fully as he could.

Hoseok began to sob softly into Jimin's shoulder, hugging the younger boy as tightly as he could. Reciprocating the pressure, Jimin held his hyung until his sobs calmed and quieted completely. Finally, Hoseok breathed more steadily and took a long deep breath to clear his shaky lungs.

"It's stupid," he said, pulling away from Jimin and cleaning his face with his sleeve. “Ugh, I shouldn't be crying over this anymore.”

Jimin kept his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder and kept slowly rubbing comforting circles on his back. He noticed that Hoseok looked exhausted and it was obvious that the guy had been crying for a couple of days. He waited patiently for Hoseok to speak again. Hoseok sighed in exasperation and then spoke in a broken voice.

"It would have been our one year anniversary on Friday," he finally said. Clearly annoyed with himself, but also with a heart-wrenching cry of frustration, Hoseok threw his arms around Jimin's neck again in despair.

"Oh, Hobi-hyung, I am so sorry!" Jimin said hugging him as tightly as he could. “Why didn’t you say something to me earlier?”

Hoseok had been in a committed relationship for the last year with a now graduated dance student. Over the winter break, Hoseok had caught his ex-boyfriend cheating on him with a freshman dance major who had been fawning over him all of last semester. Hoseok had been so in love and now he was absolutely heartbroken. When the semester started, Hoseok had managed to pick himself out of the depths of despair and had finally begun to be himself again. The looming anniversary-that-would-have-been obviously caused Hoseok to relapse back into his depression. Jimin continued to hug his hyung until he calmed down again.

"I should be over this already, Jimin-ah. I should not be shedding any more tears for that asshole," Hoseok finally groaned, pulling himself up from Jimin’s embrace and walking towards the window. He wiped his tears away more angrily than before. Jimin followed him rubbing his back as soothingly as he could.

"Hobi-hyung, it's ok to be sad and angry. You went through a difficult and traumatic breakup and with a reminder of that relationship coming up, it's completely understandable that you would be triggered. Just breathe through it, and eventually, the pain will dissipate, but for now, just don't fight it. Release it so it doesn't stay bottled up inside of you."

Hoseok nodded and silently cried some more as he looked out the window with Jimin by his side comforting him. By the time Hoseok had cried as much as he could, the next dance class had begun to file in. The two of them silently picked up their things and walked out of the studio.

They walked out into the hallway and headed towards the staircase. They both had their next class downstairs next to each other so they walked together in comfortable silence. Jimin pushed the trepidation he felt aside and decided to make an extra effort to help Hoseok through this troubling time. When they arrived at Hoseok’s classroom, Jimin pulled him to the side before he could enter the room.

“Text me when you get out of class, Hobi-ah,” Jimin requested gently. “You can help me run a few errands and then maybe we can get something to eat. What do you think?”

Hoseok nodded slightly and offered Jimin a small smile. Jimin squeezed his friend’s shoulder and then quickly decided to give him another bone-crushing hug. It was enough to earn Jimin a humorous squeak from Hoseok, and they both laughed a little at the funny noise.

“Thank you, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok replied, eyes glossing over once again. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Hoseok entered his classroom and Jimin walked over to his own class while quickly texting Taehyung about what had happened.  

___________________________________

Jimin was drinking water as he was putting away his things, and he was going to head to the nearest store to buy a bottle of Prosecco for Taehyung’s celebration. He texted Jimin back about what was going on with Hoseok. Tae, being the sweet loving friend as always, told Jimin to invite Hoseok to the show so that he would not be alone on the night of what would have been his anniversary.

Taehyung immediately started coming up with ideas to keep Hoseok in good spirits for the rest of the week. By the time Jimin’s dance class had ended, Taehyung had made plans for every night that week to keep Hoseok distracted. He had listed going to the movies, museums, bars, and dance clubs. Operation: Help Hoseok Forget About His Douchebag Ex was officially in full swing under the supervision of Captain Tae.

That's what Jimin loved about his best friend. When Taehyung knew one of his friends was hurting, he would drop everything and think of a hundred different ways to make them feel better. It was one of his more charming qualities, and it was severely underrated.

Jimin made his way out of the class and waited for Hoseok to come out of his. Eventually, Hoseok walked out looking like a pale ghost, eyes glazed and unfocused.

“Would you still like to accompany me to the store around the corner, hyung?” Jimin asked. “I want to get a bottle of Prosecco for Taehyung. He and Yoongi-hyung just booked a gig at the coffee house and we want to celebrate.”

Hoseok just nodded and whispered a barely audible “ok.” He followed Jimin out of the building with his head hung low and his feet slightly dragging across the concrete. Jimin picked up Hoseok's hand and held it firmly while they made their way out onto the busy streets to the only grocery store nearby.

As they make their way to the store, Jimin decided to put Taehyung’s plan into effect. It was best if Jimin broached the topic instead of Taehyung, since Tae had a habit of trying to force people into situations instead of gently coaxing them.

“Hey, hyung, would you like to come with me to Tae’s gig on Friday night?” he said trying to keep his voice light and inviting. “It’ll be nice to have some company, and Tae and Yoongi-hyung need all the support they can get. Plus, you can have a little distraction from other unpleasant things that may try to ruin your night? What do you think?”

“I don’t know, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok sighed heavily. “It sounds like fun, but I’m not really in the mood for something like that. I wouldn’t really be good company. I don’t want to show up and then end up ruining your night with my gloominess.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, hyung,” Jimin admonished. “I think it would be really good for you to go out with us. It will be a good distraction for you and I know Tae would be really happy to have friends there to watch.”

Hoseok considered Jimin’s offer, but Jimin could tell he was still hesitating because he was afraid of unnecessarily burdening his friends. Resolute in his desire to lift the rain clouds from his Hoseok’s world, Jimin tried a new tactic.  

"You can say no, but I honestly think it might be good to be around people and not alone and cooped up in your apartment with your annoying roommates, hyung," Jimin said careful not to make Hoseok feel pressured. “You know that smooth jazz would be a hell of a lot better to listen to than that depressing emo music your roommates listen to all night.”

Hoseok considered Jimin’s truth-facts and rolled his eyes at his friend. Jimin always instinctively knew which buttons to push, and Hoseok had no other choice but to accept Jimin’s invitation.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Hoseok relented. “But you’re buying me drinks all night, and I expect you to come over and help me pick out something cute to wear. If I’m going to be seen in public, I better look devastatingly handsome while I’m out and about. Agreed?”

“Of course,” Jimin cheered. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Do I get to dress you up like my own personal doll?”

“Why not?” Hoseok agreed. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and find myself some hot guy to help me forget about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Mentioned-By-Name.”

The two of them giggled, and Jimin beamed at the flush of life blooming on Hoseok’s cheeks. A little bribery and some hope for the weekend was all he needed. It would still take some more distraction to keep Hoseok’s spirits up, but Jimin and Tae were totally up to the task.

They chose a nice, but inexpensive bottle of Prosecco, picked up a few groceries for dinner, and made their way to Jimin and Taehyung's dorm. By the time they arrived at Jimin's dorm, Hoseok looked to be in better spirits, but Jimin knew that his emotions would be all over the place for the remainder of the week. With some help from his co-conspirator Taehyung, Jimin was determined to help Hoseok find his sunshine again.

_________________________________

Taehyung had packed up all of his paints, brushes, and supplies and placed his canvas to dry at the back of the classroom. He was supposed to meet up with Jimin and Hoseok at his dorm for dinner after his rehearsal with Yoongi, but as he walked out of the classroom into the hallway, he heard someone calling out his name from the other side.

Jungkook was jogging up to him with his tablet and binder in hand.

“Hyung, I’ve been looking for you! I wanted to show you my winter project now that I finally have it completed.” he blurted with an abrupt halt in front of Taehyung. Jungkook fumbled a little with his tablet and binder, but eventually passed the binder to Taehyung.

Taehyung took it and delicately opened the portfolio to see a beautiful selection of winter themed photographs. As he flipped through the pages, he closely admired the angles and filters Jungkook had used to capture the beautiful transition from autumn to winter. Every now and then, he released sounds of complete astonishment or just moans that turned into wows and gasps.

“Jungkookie…” he said in a whine several times. “Wooow.”

Jungkook must have traveled to several remote places to capture beautiful ice and snow patterns. There were gorgeous sunsets and snow storms that had happened in late December and somehow, Jungkook had managed to capture it all. The violent storm that had hit looked like the most serene and peaceful thing Tae had ever seen. There were even a set of photos of animals like deer, squirrels and snow birds coexisting in the midst of the icy tempest. Jungkook also had a few photographs of the people at the ice rink skating and smiling, and Taehyung felt the absolute joy and happiness of the holidays streaming from the glossy pages as if the winter months were here again.

When Taehyung had eventually finished examining the portfolio, he lifted his eyes up at Jungkook who had been watching his every reaction and anxiously awaiting his hyung’s critique.

Jungkook, the young photographer, had taken design classes with Taehyung last semester. That’s when Tae had realized that this young boy had so much potential. He had known about the winter project, but what he had looked at in this binder was far beyond his expectations, though they were already incredibly high for Jungkook to begin with.

“Kookie, this is...these are so… just,” he had managed to finally say to a very bashful Jungkook.

Jungkook withered slightly at Taehyung’s ambiguous assortment of comments. He couldn’t tell whether this was a good or bad reaction, so he braced himself for disappointment.

“Kookie, they are so wonderfully beautiful,” Taehyung eventually sputtered in excitement. “The angles, the filters, the colors, and landscapes. How did you manage this much work in only a few weeks?”

Jungkook smiled so wide from all the compliments from his hyung, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“You really like the series, hyung?” he finally asked. “It took some time to get to those different places, but I think it was worth it to get those shots. I had a lot of fun working on it.”

“Jungkook, you seriously need to switch majors or at least try to double major,” Taehyung pressed on. “You, my young friend, are an artist. You should consider showing these to Professor Gilsang-nim and maybe submit a portfolio for the Spring showcase. You never know, the department may even agree to put them up in the gallery now with the Winter showcase.”

Jungkook was suddenly and inexplicably nervous and couldn’t look Taehyung in the eye and he kept shifting from side to side on his feet.

“Ah, hyung, I don’t know if they’re that good,” stated Jungkook dismissively. “It was just a series I had been wanting to do, and after everything I learned in design last semester, I just wanted to try it out, y’know?”

Even if Jungkook was going for humble, he couldn’t hide the cutest smile and nervous fidgeting Tae had ever seen. He reminded Tae of Jimin whenever Jimin blushed at being complimented after his dance performances.

“Jungkookie, you didn’t just try, you succeeded,” Taehyung insisted. “This winter portfolio is at a level I haven’t even seen the senior photography students do!”

Tae opened up to the landscape photo of a winter storm at a lake, and his face lit up with wonder. Seeing his hyung’s expression made Jungkook secretly proud and he was blushing from head to toe and trying to disagree with Taehyung. Nevertheless, Tae looked back at him and realized the boy was going to be in denial unless he heard it from his photography professor. So without any explanation, Tae closed the portfolio and gave it back to Jungkook, then grabbed his things and Jungkook’s hand and pulled him through the hallway to the photography professor’s office.

“Where are we going- oh no, hyung, no!” Jungkook began to pull back and tried to fight Taehyung the whole way, but Tae had an iron grip on the boy’s arm. Eventually, they both arrived at the faculty offices on the side hallway and found Professor Gilsang's office. Taehyung knocked on it while he pushed Jungkook in front of him. They heard a resounding “come in” come from behind the closed door and Taehyung opened it while shoving Jungkook inside quickly before he could escape. As Taehyung closed the door behind him, Jungkook admitted defeated and exhaled deeply, allowing his cheeks to puff out. His hyung had given him no other option.

__________________________________

“Then he said, Jungkook I can’t convince you to change your major, but I am going to suggest you allow the department to showcase these in the photography section of the campus art gallery,” Jungkook finished his story, beaming at Jimin and Hoseok who were sitting in the living room eating dinner. He was gripping the binder and showing them his favorite photographs with an immense amount of pride dripping from his tongue.

“That’s amazing, Jungkookie!” Jimin squealed. “Congratulations!”

“These are amazing photographs, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok admitted. “Maybe you should take the professor’s advice.”

Both Jimin and Hoseok continued fawning over Jungkook’s portfolio while Taehyung was shouting incoherently from his room.

“No one can hear you, Tae,” Jimin shouted in annoyance. “If you have something to say, come over here and say it.”

Taehyung stomped over and huffed at Jimin cutely. He was still trying to figure out the best outfit for his gig and was methodically trying on everything hanging in his closet. His latest ensemble paired a pair of mustard yellow slacks with an emerald print button up. The three boys couldn’t resist looking Taehyung up and down and humming in appreciation, but he just rolled his eyes in response.

“What I was saying, Jimin-ssi, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Taehyung expressed comically. “Was that I was right all along, as per usual, and Jungkook should definitely follow his passion and talents. The world could use his unique perspective through a camera lens instead of another guy in a cubicle running spreadsheets and boring meetings around a conference table.”

Taehyung looked down at his outfit and groaned. He started unbuttoning the shirt as he walked off, giving them all a glimpse of his honey kissed skin as he pulled the shirt off his shoulders once he crossed the threshold to his room. Jimin and Hoseok looked at each other and grinned. When they looked back at Jungkook, their expressions shifted to sympathy. The furrowed brow and indecision etched across Jungkook’s features was something they were familiar with, so they knew the internal struggle raging within Jungkook’s mind.

Jimin and Hoseok both knew not to push the college major issue as much Taehyung would. Jungkook’s dilemma with his major and future were a constant stress and anxiety for the young boy and they didn’t want to make him feel pressured. Jungkook sighed and passed the portfolio back to his hyungs as Taehyung came out of his room for the fourth time with a new outfit.

He had been trying out outfits for most of the evening after eating his dinner, attempting to find the perfect combination that would be both sexy and “jazzy.”

“Ok, I think this is the one, this is the one” he said with the same confidence he had with the other three outfits he had tried earlier. Jimin and Hoseok did not bother to look up this time as he looked at himself in the full body mirror they had on the wall near the front door. They continued to look at Jungkook’s portfolio while Tae continued to change his mind over and over again about his outfit. He turned around and looked back at the mirror over his shoulder before leaning down and changing into another pair of shoes that were laid out before him.

“What do you guys think?” he asked with a confident smile. “Is this one better than the last?”

“You look amazing, Tae,” Jimin muttered without energy. “Very sexy, very jazzy.”

The sheer amount of frustration bubbling beneath Tae’s confident exterior threatened to explode upon Jimin’s head, but Jungkook was quick to diffuse the situation.

“Maybe you could try a different belt?” Jungkook suggested quickly. “That other one you had on earlier felt more jazzy, don’t you think?”

Taehyung was still glaring in Jimin’s direction, but couldn’t resist looking down at his belt and then at the mirror. After striking yet another pose, his boxy grin returned and he winked at Jungkook.

“You’re right, Kookie-ah,” Taehyung admitted. “That other belt is definitely more jazzy. You have such an eye for design. Are you sure you don’t want to be an art major?”

Before Jungkook could respond, Taehyung bounced off down the hall to make yet another wardrobe adjustment. Jungkook sighed and shook his head with a chuckle. Tae wouldn’t let up about the art major thing, and he probably would keep bringing it up until Jungkook gave in. There was too much to consider right now, and Jungkook couldn’t justify the big change just yet.

Most of the evening passed with everyone admiring Jungkook’s work and Taehyung changing into a hundred different outfits. The rest of them would offer occasional suggestions and praise for his fashion choices, but eventually they gave up completely when they started to notice repeat ensembles parading in front of the mirror.

Jimin was doing his best to make sure to keep Hoseok distracted and laughing as much as he could, and with the help of Tae and Jungkook, he managed to get him to laugh and bring back the bubbly Hoseok they all knew and loved.

________________________________

Namjoon was back in his room tapping away at his keyboard when he suddenly heard the squeaky laugh of Seokjin over his music, so he hit pause to see what was going on. He then heard Yoongi groan loudly and start complaining about a horrible joke that Seokjin made. Namjoon checked the time on his laptop and realized it was getting late and he hadn’t eaten all day.

He had come back to his apartment after a failed search for that magnificent boy. He went to the Humanities building and looked in every classroom on the second and third floors. Namjoon figured that the boy must have been sitting too close to the wall for him to see. He continued his search in the Music and Dance building to wait and perhaps ask around. But he had been too nervous to ask any of the dance students, and they all looked at him like he was an alien. So Namjoon had just come back home and decided to go early to the Humanities building on Friday to wait for the boy, since he didn’t have class.

He stretched out and rubbed at his eyes, realizing that he’d probably been looking at the computer screen for too long. He checked his phone for any notifications and saw that about two hours ago, Seokjin had called him and left a voicemail. Yoongi had also texted him asking what he wanted for dinner. Since Namjoon hadn’t responded, Yoongi had ordered him some pasta and chicken and then put it in the microwave for later. Namjoon also noticed a few emails from the writing center where he tutored at in the university library, he assumed it was new students booking him for a tutoring session, but he could look at that later.

Namjoon’s stomach grumbled in protest and he could now smell the food waiting for him outside the room. He clicked “Save” on his laptop and removed his glasses, noting that the thick frames left a permanent indentation into his nose bridge. He sighed and pinched it as he closed his eyes, willing his retinas to adjust to the darkness of the room now that he was no longer staring at his laptop. He had been writing for hours since he had come back home, mostly class assignments. He stood up and stretched again as he noticed the stress and tension in his lower back from sitting at his desk all day long. With a final groan, he shook his head and walked out of his room into the living room where Yoongi and Seokjin were eating their dinner and watching YouTube videos on the television.

“Hey there,” Yoongi exclaimed. “We were starting to think you were never gonna emerge from your dark cave. You hungry? We ordered you some pasta and chicken from that Italian place Jin-hyung loves so much.”

Yoongi’s eyes lingered with concern as he looked at Namjoon, who was still blinking his eyes as they adjusted to the light, thus proving Yoongi’s point about his “dark cave.”

“Thanks, hyung,” replied Namjoon as he pulled the to-go box out of the microwave. “That sounds wonderful since I forgot to eat today.”

Namjoon shot them a guilty glance and walked around the couch to sit on the floor next to them to eat his dinner. Both Yoongi and Seokjin shook their heads in disapproval. Namjoon could swear he heard one of them grumble out the words “not again” as he opened up the covered dish in front of him.  

“Ah, Joon, you need to eat something during the day, you can’t just lock yourself in your room and forget that you need food!” Seokjin said in his whiny voice, though there was real concern in his tone. Namjoon avoided looking at his hyungs as he began to eat his dinner and tried not to look too guilty.

“Well, since you’ve been in your room most of the day,” Yoongi began. “Now I can tell you both, Sejin-nim has agreed to let our jazz combo play at his coffee shop on Friday night. If things go well and he makes a profit during our set, he promised to let us play there as often as we’d like when the place isn’t booked for other events.”

Yoongi shot Seokjin & Namjoon a confident smirk as he shoved a large spoonful of food into his mouth. They dropped their jaws in astonishment at this sudden newsflash, and their smiles widened as they took in the satisfied gummy smile spreading across Yoongi’s face.

“Yoongi-ah,” Namjoon exclaimed while leaning over to give him a high five. “Dude, that’s awesome news! Congrats, bro! I can definitely be there.”

“Congratulations, Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin smiled. “You’re gonna sound great! I don’t know if I’ll be able to attend though. I have rehearsals that night.”  

“That’s okay, hyung,” Yoongi replied. “I understand how crazy your schedule is. How are rehearsals going so far?”

“They’re going fine,” Seokjin muttered with a sarcastic tone. “It seems like the rest of the ensemble finally realized they need to learn their lines so that rehearsals go more smoothly.”  

“Are you still having problems with the lead actor?” Namjoon wondered aloud. He knew Seokjin was still upset about not getting the lead roll in this latest theatre production.

“No, I’ve decided to be the bigger man and just learn my lines and outdo him on stage with my marvelous talent,” Seokjin informed them. “In fact, I just learned that Adam-ssi also wants to audition for the same acting company that I do in the summer after we graduate. It’s actually perfect because now I can really prove that I’m better than him outside of the theatre department.” Seokjin’s voice was laced with a cockiness that only Kim Seokjin could pull off without sounding like a complete ass. It was a talent he had a tendency to flaunt, but he had more than enough talent to back it up.  

Namjoon and Yoongi gave each other a knowing look while Seokjin got up from the couch to go to the refrigerator for a refill. He continued to talk about his ingenious plans to demolish the competition, and his friends just sighed and chuckled lightly at his overwhelming arrogance.

“Which reminds me, do either of you know a good photographer?” Seokjin continued as he poured out some soda and retrieved a bottle of strawberry soju from the back of the fridge. “I need new headshots and I don’t want to work with the theatre department’s go-to photographer because he loves Adam-ssi and I refuse to listen to his fan-girling drivel during my shoot again.”

“I don’t know any, since that guy also works with the music department for our headshots.” Yoongi told Seokjin with a shrug. “I’ll ask Taehyung-ssi though. He’s in the art department, so he probably knows some good photographers.”

“That’s a good idea, hyung,” confirmed Namjoon. “The art department is full of photographers and I bet you could ask if they have any senior students or professors who could do it for a reasonable fee?”

“Ah, you both make compelling arguments,” Seokjin admitted. “Maybe these artists can truly capture my natural beauty so that I can outshine my rival once and for all.”

“Let me ask Taehyung-ssi first though,” Yoongi argued. “He might already know which photography student would be best or maybe who I could direct you to.”  

Seokjin continued to contemplate their suggestions and walked back to the couch to sit down. He knew he could count on his friends to help him out when he was in a bind but he wasn’t sure he wanted to rely on an amateur photographer for his headshots.

Meanwhile, Namjoon continued to eat his dinner and tried his best not to look ravenous because he knew Yoongi and Seokjin would make him feel worse about not taking better care of himself. Luckily, Yoongi was distracted while looking for a video on the television.

“You guys might be right,” Seokjin finally admitted. “Go ahead and give Taehyung-ssi my contact info and hopefully he knows someone who can do the photo shoot. With any luck, I won’t have to deal with fanboy again.”

“I’ll text him right now,” Yoongi offered. “I’ll tell him to call you for details about what you’re looking for.”

“Tell him I want someone who can capture all of this beauty and handsomeness without making me look old,” Seokjin added while throwing a ridiculous kiss out to Yoongi.

Yoongi was already typing out a message to Taehyung and he looked up just in time to see the ridiculous behavior displayed by Seokjin. He made a disgusted face in response and mimicked the act of vomiting over the side of the couch. Namjoon watched this hilarious interaction and fell to the floor laughing. His best friends could be so ridiculous, but he loved them nonetheless.

“I sent him a message with your phone number attached saying that you need a photographer to do your headshots and that you want someone who can capture different sides of you since you need them for auditions,” Yoongi said after typing on his phone. He then added before Seokjin could even say anything, “I am not going to repeat the absurd words that come out of your mouth.”

Seokjin just looked at Yoongi in disbelief and then scoffed. “Fine,” he huffed. “But I am the most handsome student here, aren’t I, Joon?”

Seokjin looked over at Namjoon who had a large portion of chicken and pasta in his mouth. Yoongi and Seokjin both looked at him and laughed while Namjoon nodded enthusiastically and chewed the food puffing out his cheeks.

Namjoon eventually finished his food and hung out with his friends, realizing that this was the most social interaction he’d had in a few days other than this morning when he had made a fool of himself with the most gorgeous boy ever. He tried not to think about it too much as he was planning on finding the mysterious dancer on Friday and he was already nervous about it.

As he hung out with Yoongi and Seokjin, he realized he really needed to learn how to take breaks every once in a while. He had been working on his poetry and on his novel, attending his classes, and working at the tutoring center nonstop, and that was it. There was definitely a lack of human interaction in his life.

Maybe I should change that?

Occasionally, Namjoon felt Yoongi or Seokjin look at him a little too long, and he knew it was only out of concern, but it still made him feel anxious. He knew he needed to take better care of himself, get enough sleep, remember to eat, but sometimes he would get too carried away writing that he tended to miss a lot.

What he had not told them was that recently he just stared at a blank page unable to put coherent thoughts into words. He was experiencing writer's block like never before. It had begun last semester, and he’d slowly written less and less, but he had assumed it was a result of the stress from the end of the semester and final exams taking up a lot of his time.

Then the winter break came, and he slept through most of it, unable to get up for more than a few hours. He lost quite a bit of weight too, and Yoongi mentioned it at the end of the break and asked Namjoon if he was feeling ok. Namjoon just equated it all to finally being able to rest after a grueling semester. With the block he was currently having, he wondered if it was more than just stress or lack of inspiration. Whatever the case may be, he was not ready to talk about it yet, and he wasn’t even sure if it was truly anything other than just having a regular mental block.

Eventually, Yoongi said he needed to go to bed because he had an early class, and Seokjin also muttered something about wanting to get his beauty sleep. Namjoon cleaned up after them and made it back into his room. He wanted to write, but he knew that he would just get nowhere. Instead, he took a shower and lay in bed for what felt like hours. At some point, he drifted into an uneasy sleep fraught with fitful dreams.

______________________________ [Min Yoongi, Wednesday, 9:47 pm] Hey Tae, my friend Kim Seokjin is an actor (contact attached) and was wondering if you knew any photographers that could take some headshots. I should add that he is pretty fussy and picky, so don’t recommend people you like. LOL

[Kim Taehyung, 10:02 pm] I do know a photographer who has done amazing portrait work. I’ll pass along the along the info to him. His name is Jeon Jungkook (contact attached). He’s a freshman, but he’s incredibly talented. I can schedule a meeting between the two.

[Min Yoongi, 10:08 pm] Thanks for the quick reply, I’ve passed the info along. Like I said, Seokjin is rather particular, so he says he wants to see some of his work before he meets with him. You know, actors (eyeroll emoji). ______________________________ [Kim Taehyung, Thursday, 11:23 am] Hey Seokjin-hyung, I can meet you at the art gallery around six in the afternoon after my rehearsal with Yoongi-hyung. I can show you Jeon Jungkook’s work.

[Kim Seokjin, 11:36 am] Sounds like a plan. I’d apologize for being so particular about this, but I need this to be spectacular. Thanks! See you later.

______________________________

It was late afternoon and the sun was setting as Seokjin was heading to the art gallery on campus to meet up with Yoongi’s bandmate Kim Taehyung. From what Yoongi had told him, Taehyung was pretty eccentric and very “artsy,” but the guy had come through by recommending a photographer to Seokjin. The photographer Taehyung had suggested was a freshman who was not majoring in photography, so Seokjin was having doubts about this whole affair.

Taehyung agreed to show Seokjin this young photographers’ work, and he needed to see it before he met up with the boy. He arrived earlier than he anticipated, so he decided to walk around the gallery while he waited for Taehyung.

As he walked into the gallery, he noticed beautiful sculptures and canvases. He quickly learned that there were sections to the gallery, and it was divided by art mediums. On one side were the sculptures and ceramics, and on the other side were the paintings and sketches. Behind him, were the film and photography rooms. He walked through the hallways, stopping here and there when he saw something that caught his eye as striking. He had never really been into art, but he knew what he liked and what he didn’t.

He continued to walk around and eventually made his way to the film section. Since he was already there to decide on a photographer, he might as well look at what other photography students had to offer.  

Seokjin could compare whatever Taehyung was bringing to show him to what was already in the photography section of the gallery.

How would this boy’s talent fair against that of junior and senior students?

Seokjin continued to muse over the supposed genius that could exist in a freshman as he walked around looking at the photography work around him.

As he walked around, he marveled at the beautiful photographs and videos on the walls. He recognized some of the work of the filmmakers he sometimes worked with in the theatre department. As he walked through the next entrance into a smaller room reserved for larger projects or series, his attention was drawn to a captivating photo of a winter storm engulfing a lake. The photographer had enlarged and mounted the photograph. He was about seven or eight feet from it and the scene did not look real. The photographer had somehow captured snow and sleet falling majestically on a lake that was frozen. The wind was so thick with snow and ice that it looked like a cloud of ash moving through the trees.

It seems to be in motion, but how?

When he finally looked away, he realized that all around him was a series of photographs that captured the transition from autumn to winter. All of the photos were stunning, and Seokjin felt like he was being whisked away and carried into an autumnal masterpiece which transformed seamlessly into a winter wonderland as he followed the series, culminating in the one that he had started at.

He was about to read the name of the photographer when he heard someone walking behind him.

“You must be Kim Seokjin,” the voice called out cheerfully. “I recognize your face from a few of the plays I’ve attended. I’m Kim Taehyung. What do you think of the photos?”

Seokjin looked around again and then finally found his voice.

“They’re magnificent, captivating,” he exhaled in one breath. “They almost seem unreal.”

“Yes, the photographer is quite talented. Have you seen the holiday photos they took at the ice rink?” Taehyung asked turning on his heel and guiding Seokjin to back of the room.

They reached the photographs Taehyung was talking about and Seokjin was transported back to December and could almost feel the Christmas spirit again.

“Whoa, how did they do that? It looks like the skaters are in motion, but yet frozen!” he mused out loud and continued to make incoherent sounds. He felt a little silly, but he was so moved by all of the photographs.

Finally, he turned to Taehyung who was offering him a grin full of unspoken secrets ready to be spilled.

“Who is the photographer? This is the photographer I want!” Seokjin blurted out. “Look at this couple here and they way he captured the budding romance between them, the twinkle in their eyes. This is the photographer I need. I know you have a friend who you say is talented, but to be honest, I don’t think he has the maturity in his work like this photographer has.”

Seokjin stepped closer to the label next to the photograph closest to him to read the photographer’s name. He read out loud:   __ Engaged Couple at Ice Skating Photographer:    Jeon Jungkook, freshman

Seokjin was stunned, simply shook.

He turned around slowly, looking at each photograph around him. He walked to each label and read the same name over and over again. He was taking the room at a jogging pace and he could not believe what he was seeing.

Finally, he halted in front of the winter storm photograph. ___ Winter Tempest Photographer:   Jeon Jungkook, freshman

This was captured by the boy.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts. He straightened out his spine and swiveled around to confront Taehyung, who was looking at him with a cocky knowing smirk.

“The photographer you spoke about is a freshman, is he this freshman” Seokjin asks incredulously.

“The very same,” Taehyung said with a double lift of his eyebrows. “Talented, isn’t he?”  

“Book him,” Seokjin demanded gruffly as if he was ordering a meal. “I want to do a complete photo shoot as soon as possible. Not just headshots. A full photo shoot with props, wardrobe changes, action shots, everything. The works!”

Taehyung tried to maintain his cool composure as he looked at Seokjin up and down, but he couldn’t help but wonder “what the hell did I get Jungkook-ah into?”

“The job of a lifetime.” Seokjin exclaimed emphatically with a twinkle in his eye. “With this guy’s expertise and my face, we’ll be unstoppable!”

Taehyung was still recovering from the utterance of what he had perceived as inner monologue. He leaned back against the wall and pondered over Yoongi-hyung’s earlier description of Seokjin and wondered whether he’d just forgotten to mention anything about him being insane or a danger to others.

Maybe the guy just really loves himself...like more than one person should?

Either way, Taehyung was proud of himself in this moment. His clever maneuvers not only landed Jungkook a full exhibit in the art gallery, but it also attracted a customer willing to pay for a high end photography session.

Or maybe ten sessions from the way he keeps talking…

Taehyung sauntered over to Seokjin, who was still planted in front of the winter storm piece with a glossy expression on his face.

“So, I guess I’ll just have Jungkook-ah text you for more information?” Taehyung asked him. “I’ll be seeing him later on tonight.”

“Please do that,” Seokjin murmured while still entranced by the frozen fractals peppering the landscape. “He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to be the best thing that ever happened to him and his career.”

———————————

“Kim Taehyung!” Hoseok screeched. “What did you do?”

“I just lined up a really good job for Jungkookie. That’s all!” Taehyung stated defensively, attempting to hide his smirk. “What’s the big deal? Jungkook-ah can totally handle this.”

“Tae, this might be too much for him!” Hoseok whined, trying to get Taehyung to understand that this is a very bad idea. “You are talking about THE Kim Seokjin, the man is such a pain in the ass. Have you met his crazy fans? Have you seen the ridiculous way he throws kisses and flowers to them? He’s going to rip poor Jungkookie into pieces!”  

“It’s just a photoshoot, Hobi-ah.” Tae argued. “You should have seen him go on about Jungkookie’s work. He was so impressed, he was speechless!”

“Kim Seokjin? Speechless?” Hoseok asks in disbelief. “There is no way!”

“I’m just gonna set up the meeting, that’s it.” Taehyung assured them. “Jungkookie can choose to do the job or not. Plus, Seokjin-hyung will pay him handsomely.”

Taehyung picked up his cell phone and called Jungkook while Hoseok merely shook his head in disapproval.

“Hey Jungkookie, you busy? I have news! You’re gonna be rich!” Taehyung announced while trying to ignore the stares from Hoseok. “I just got you a job!”

While Taehyung continued to spill the details about the job, Jimin arrived home from his rehearsals. Jimin lazily waved and Hoseok noticed the slow movements Jimin made as he stumbled through the tiny dorm and into his room. He was working so hard for his sophomore recital and Hoseok wondered if the poor boy had remembered to eat today.

Jimin dumped his things in his room and gazed longingly at his bed. He was absolutely exhausted, and his rehearsals were going great, but he was not sleeping well and his classes were completely stressing him out. Jimin had also lost his dance notebook that held all of his notes, and he needed those for his classes. Now that Jimin finally had some time, he pulled out the man’s notebook he had taken by mistake and opened it to see if there was a name so he could go looking for him and trade him back for his own.

As Jimin searched through the pages, he realized it was actually a writing journal. The man had written out a series of poems and short stories. It was almost filled to the last page, each page contained beautiful words about a variety of topics. Jimin felt weird reading them, but he was captivated by the man’s words. It was a shame there was no name or identifying information anywhere on it. How would he ever get this journal back to its rightful owner? How would he ever see that beautiful man again?

Jimin sighed and threw himself on the bed. He wanted to go to sleep or just keep reading the amazing work in the notebook, but he was hungry. He also had not seen Hoseok all day, and he had made a promise to get him through this difficult week. Luckily, Taehyung and Jungkook were helping a lot with that. They had taken Hoseok out for lunch earlier, they all had dinner together every night, and Hoseok was sleeping over this week so he wouldn’t have to be alone at night. It did seem to be working, and Hoseok was doing much better now and he hadn’t brought up his ex once.

Jimin suddenly heard Hoseok yelling at Taehyung. From what he could tell, it had something to do with Taehyung having booked a huge photo shoot for Jungkook to do with some troublesome senior everyone seemed to know about, but the problem was that Taehyung hadn’t run the idea past Jungkook until after he’d agreed to the shoot. Jimin huffed out a small giggle. His best friend was forever getting his friends into difficult situations without their prior knowledge. The boy was an epidemic.

Jimin sighed heavily and took one last look at the notebook on his warm and inviting bed before he stood up and walked out of his room to find Hoseok hitting Taehyung repeatedly with a pillow. The sight should have left him in stitches, but Jimin only had enough energy to smile weakly and flop onto the couch to enjoy the show.

___________________________

“Taehyung-ah,” Jungkook whined in exasperation. “I don’t know if I can do this. I’ve never done a full photo shoot with a model before, let alone an actor who needs to use my photography to get work for himself. This man’s career is hinging on my artistic skills, and that’s way too much pressure for me!”  

Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were all eating dinner at the dorm. Taehyung had just giving Jungkook the details about the job he had secured for the poor boy. Hoseok and Jimin were exchanging nervous and concerned looks throughout the entire discussion.

“You’ll be fine, Jungkookie,” Hoseok assured him, trying to soothe the poor boy’s nerves. “We’ll all be there to assist you.”  

“Yeah! We’ll be the photographer’s team!” Jimin added. “We’ll hold the lighting thingies and get you coffee!”  

Jungkook’s face broke into a smirk at the word “thingies” and then gave them all the cutest bunny smile ever. Sure, he was in the middle of a mild crisis, but his friends’ enthusiasm was certainly reassuring, even if they had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

“Ok, if you all will be there helping me, I think I can probably do it.” Jungkook stated more confidently. “Hopefully, this Kim Seokjin guy will be satisfied with my work and maybe I can start doing this part-time? That would be a great job for me while I’m in school!”  

“Yeah! And you know, switch majors too!” Taehyung said with a smirk. They all shot Tae a “not now” look, and he looked away as if he had seen nothing.

“You guys are right” Jungkook breathed out. “I’ll be fine, more than fine! I’ll make that Kim Seokjin the most handsome actor ever! Just wait and see.”

They all laughed at Jungkook’s bold declaration and continued eating their dinner.  

____________________________ [Jeon Jungkook, Thursday, 8:47 pm] Hello, Kim Seokjin-ssi. I am available this weekend and next if you would like to meet and discuss bookings for your photo shoot. Taehyung mentioned that you wanted outdoor and indoor photos, as well as several wardrobe changes. The weather should be nice this weekend to do some outdoor shots. Let me know what your schedule is like and we can make arrangements.  

[Kim Seokjin, Thursday, 8:55 pm] Hello, Jungkook-ssi! Yes, that should work fine with me. How about Saturday, 11:00 am? I can meet you at the art gallery and we can load your things in my car. I have the perfect place for a photo shoot! We can discuss details and aesthetics on the way. I look forward to having you work for me.

[Jeon Jungkook, Thursday, 9:02 pm] That works for me, hyung. I hope you don’t mind, but I will have my friends with me to assist. It’ll be Taehyung-ssi, and my other friends, Jung Hoseok, and Park Jimin, if that’s alright?

[Kim Seokjin, Thursday, 9:04 pm] Oh! You have a team! Wonderful! Yes, that’s fine. I drive a Range Rover. I can fit all of them and your equipment. See you then!

[Jeon Jungkook, Thursday, 9:05pm] Sounds good, hyung. See you then!

____________________________

Namjoon was nervous. He was on the verge of sweating and he was aware that he was blushing profusely. He left his apartment an hour early so that he wouldn’t miss the boy going to his class. Namjoon wasn’t sure if the boy would be walking from the dormitory side of campus or the parking lot side of campus, so he waited for what seemed like ages. He watched so many students pass him by and was beginning to wonder if the boy’s class had also been cancelled or if he was just running late again like he had on Wednesday.

Namjoon was about to lose hope when it was ten minutes until 9 am and classes were about to start, but then he suddenly glanced towards the dorms and he saw him. He was walking fast towards the Humanities building with the thermos he had dropped on Wednesday in one hand and a small book in the other. Namjoon stood up so quickly that the boy immediately noticed him. Namjoon tentatively walked towards him, aware that he probably looked weird waiting for him since they didn’t really know each other. However, the boy smiled at Namjoon brightly and started walking towards him.

“Hi,” the boy said to Namjoon in the sweetest voice he had ever heard. It was like the tinkling of fairy bells in the wind, and it brought a rush of heat to Namjoon’s dimpled cheeks.

“Hi,” Namjoon blurted back nervously, aware that his voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean, hello...um, I accidentally picked up your notebook instead of mine… when um…”

“When you saved me from cracking my face open?” Jimin prompted with a cute grin that only flustered Namjoon even more. “Yes, I noticed that I had the wrong book when I was trying to take notes in my dance class.”

The smile on the boy’s face was incandescent and it made Namjoon feel like the butterflies in his stomach were doing some weird kind of gymnastics.

“I am so sorry,” Namjoon continued while blushing from head to toe as he spoke way too quickly.. “I didn’t realize I took the wrong one until I wanted to write and I opened it, but I swear I only looked through it to look for your name or any info so that I could find you to trade it.”

“It’s ok, since I looked through yours too for the same thing,” the boy responded while laughing a little, and Namjoon couldn’t help but laugh with him. “I guess we both should start putting our contact info in our notebooks, huh?”  

He gave Namjoon his thermos to hold while he reached into his backpack to pull Namjoon’s notebook from inside. They traded books and stood there smiling at each other.

“You’re pretty smart to have come here to wait for me,” he stated while taking his thermos back. “I guess you figured I had class again today?”  

“Yeah, I figured I could catch you before or after class,” Namjoon admitted sheepishly. “Lucky for me, I caught you before.”

“You were going to wait for me for an hour?” the boy commented with a smile that reached his half-moon eyes. “You didn’t have to do that. That’s so sweet of you.”

“I’ve kind of been waiting an hour already,” Namjoon admitted blushing some more. “I really wanted to make sure I didn’t miss you.”

“Oh, wow. Well thank you,” he said with the sweetest smile and touching Namjoon’s arm lightly. “You didn’t have to go through so much trouble for me, really.”

Namjoon felt the warm small and delicate hand on his forearm and returned the gesture touching the boy’s forearm with his other hand.

“I’m Kim Namjoon, by the way,” he said with a huge smile that showed his deep dimples. “I’m glad I ran into you today.”

“I’m Park Jimin,” Jimin replied softly while rubbing Namjoon’s arm with his thumb and feeling his knees weaken as he saw those dimples again. “It's really nice to meet you. Thank you for bringing my book back.”

Seconds passed by and they continued to hold each others arms and smile until they laughed sweetly at the serendipity of it all. The whole thing felt like something out of a romantic comedy: people running into each other, unknowingly trading possessions, finding each other again, and this one perfect moment where they finally figured out the other person’s name. They both leaned into the moment and didn’t want to let go.

Namjoon snapped out of his reverie and patted Jimin’s arm gently. He knew he was probably keeping him from class, and he’d probably already taken up too much of his time. Jimin could feel Namjoon pulling away from him, and he fought off the urge to latch onto his arm and pull him back in.

“I guess you have to go to class now, huh?” Namjoon reminded him. “I don’t want to make you late...again.”

“It’s ok,” Jimin assured him. “Maybe I should get your number so I can thank you properly? Maybe like a cup of coffee or something? My treat?”

“Ummm, ok,” Namjoon muttered shakily. “Yeah, sure, coffee, that’s a good idea. I drink coffee.”

“As do I,” Jimin chirped while pulling out a pen. “Here, write your number here and I’ll write mine in your notebook. We can meet up later, yeah?”

They exchanged numbers and took another look at their notebooks to make sure they had the right ones this time. After a shared awkward laugh, Jimin ran his fingers through his hair and shot a cute look at Namjoon. He had to do something to match the dimpled Adonis in front of him. Namjoon’s face erupted into a radiant blush and he rubbed the back of his neck while he tried to look everywhere but directly at Jimin.

“So I guess we’ll see each other later then?” Jimin asked, tilting his head at Namjoon and smiling.

“Yeah,” breathed out Namjoon. “Definitely.”

With a well coordinated spin, Jimin happily bounced off to class still reveling in the wondrous turn of events, and a dumbfounded Namjoon was left behind to shamelessly stare at his glorious denim clad ass bouncing away from him as it disappeared through the doors of the Humanities building.

—————— Chapter 2 Coming Soon —————

MASTERLIST

[captainjanegay]

from that prompt thing: “I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.” please!!

OK so. I just want you to know that it’s the first thing I’ve written in... a while. A looong while. Also since you haven’t include a ship, I let myself write NiallTom for the first time ever. I’ve been lowkey obsessed about them for a while and tried to write a fic but got stuck and I wanted to at least do a prompt for them. Also somehow it turned out to have almost 3k. So you see how many things could go wrong with this thingy (and they probably did). Sorry not sorry.

My Heart Dances (Niall/Tom Holland, 2.6k, fluff, mostly)

Since Harrison escorted him to his home and planted him on the couch, Tom hasn't moved an inch. In his defence, he was ordered not to walk if he didn't have to. For the last two hours or so he's been dozing off and stirring himself awake every few minutes. The pain isn’t so bad, but it still makes him wince if he moves the wrong way. Tom is glad that Haz listened to him earlier, when Tom asked his friend to leave as soon as he was safely placed on the sofa. Maybe there was more snapping at his poor friend who just wanted to help, than there was polite asking, but Tom had the right to be bitchy. What he needs now is to be miserable and alone. Or well, not exactly alone, since Tessa is curled up next to him on the tiny couch. With her snout on his stomach, she hasn't moved since Tom stumbled home. 

His eyes start to drop again and he feels like this time the tiredness will finally win. But then there is a quiet knock at the door. Tom blinks, letting out a small sigh and Tessa raises her head, looking across the room. After giving it a moment of thought, Tom decides to ignore whoever’s on the other side. It’s probably Harrison. If ignored for too long, his friend will probably let himself in with the spare key Tom gave him at some point.

A minute passes and there’s more knocking and then a voice that makes Tom’s heart skip a beat. “Tom? Come on, I know you’re there.”

Tessa lets out a happy bark and runs towards the door, her nails scraping on the floor.

“Hello, Tess,” Niall says through the door. “Can you please go and drag him out of bed for me? I know he listens to you, pretty girl.”

Tessa barks in response, jumping at the door and then runs back to Tom. Her big eyes are trained on him as she lets out a single bark that sounds a bit demanding. It actually makes Tom chuckle under his breath.

Another soft knock is followed by Niall’s, “Please, Tom. I know what happened, Harrison told me.”

Tom only sighs and rubs at his forehead. He knew that Niall would worry and he also knew that Haz will be rubbish at keeping his mouth shut. It’s not really like Tom didn’t want Niall to know what happened. But the more Tom thought about it, he realised that he may have overreacted a bit. After all, it is only a mildly sprained ankle and Tom will be back on the dancefloor soon enough. But it also is the worst possible time for any injury. So he had all the rights be overly emotional and full on crying when he stumbled into the pub next to his dance studio. Tom just hoped he’d quickly find Harrison and ask his friend to drive him to the hospital. But of course it was Niall who has spotted him first. He basically run around the counter, ignoring the customer and within a second he was putting his arm around Tom, leading him toward the nearest chair. Tom was in too much pain - both physical and emotional - to answer any of Niall’s questions and he just asked if he could get Harrison. Then they left and Tom didn’t even say goodbye, which was kind of a dick move since Niall was obviously worried.

It was shit to learn that you’ll probably lose your first role in the bloody English National Ballet production due to an injury. It was also shit to be seen by the man you fancy while your are covered in your own tears and probably some snot as well.

So Tom may be a bit embarrassed and he isn’t sure if he is ready to face Niall yet. Or anyone.

Tessa barks at him once more, apparently disappointed in his behaviour. She toddles around back to the door where Niall is still tapping in some rhythm. Persistent, that one, Tom thinks and can’t stop a small smile that appears on his face.

“Come on, babe. I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.”

Niall’s voice is soft and sweet and Tom knows he’ll give up in a second or two. He’s not heartless, after all. And all his dignity has already been lost, so he probably can’t embarass himself any further. 

There is a slightly bigger, more muffled thud, which - Tom guesses - can be Niall resting his head against the door and then he says, “You know that I won’t go away, so you could just let me in.”

Biting at his lower lip, Tom carefully slides off the couch. Trying not to hurt his ankle any more, he reaches for the crutch abandoned beside the couch.

He guesses he might’ve made some noise, because on the other side of the door there’s an excited gasp as Niall says, “Can it be, Tessa? Did we make it?! I knew you’re my only hope to get that silly git moving!”

Tom shakes his head at that, but he’s smiling. “Don’t insult me, Niall. It will take awhile for me to get there, so I still have plenty of time to change my mind.”

“I’m glad you’re better, love,” Niall laughs and Tom ignores the somersault his insides do at the pet name. He got used to the fact that Niall’s affectionate like this with everyone.

When he finally manages to stumble close enough to unlock the door, he’s a bit winded. Which is embarrassing considering that his studio is basically one open room with a living room/bedroom and a kitchenette/hall combo. Even these dozen steps he had to make can be a challenge when one of your legs are useless.

It was worth it, Tom decides when he is rewarder by Niall’s bright smile. He really is soaking wet, his eyes are soft and filled with worry when he looks at Tom and his smile is warm and genuine. Tom is too preoccupied by staring at Niall’s face to notice that he is holding a huge box of pizza in one hand and a bunch of beers in the other. Tessa, on the other hand, seems much more interested in the smell of salami that came with the guest than in the guest himself. Niall grins down at her when she rests his paws on his belly, trying to reach the box.

“Yeah, I’m glad to see you too, girl. If you’d let me in, I promise to share the treats,” Niall says, raising the box out of her reach.

“Shit, sorry. Lemme just...” Tom says, reaching out to take the things from Niall.

Quite quickly it turns out that it wasn’t the wisest idea. When Tom loosens his grip on the crutch, it slips out of his hand and falls onto the floor with a loud clatter. Trying to catch it, Tom wavers slightly and accidentally puts too much pressure on his ankle. He lets out a yelp of pain and grabs at Niall’s arm, already ready to steady him.

Somehow Niall has managed to free his hands in those few seconds and one of his arms is already placed gently around Tom’s waist. “I’ve got ya,” Niall says with a small smile.

Tom feels lightheaded but he blames it on the burst of pain in his leg and not on the little dimple on Niall’s cheek. Niall completely ignores Tom’s objections and leads him back to the couch. A few moments later the small table in front of him is stacked with plates, pizza, beer and two steaming mugs of tea. Tom himself is pushed against the back of the couch, his leg put gently on a chair with a cushion to make sure he’s comfortable and with something frozen wrapped in a kitchen towel pressed to his swollen ankle. A small sigh of relief escapes his mouth as he closes his eyes for a moment and relaxes into the couch.

“Thank you,” Tom says sincerely, looking up at Niall.

Niall only shrugs, the soft smile still on his lips. It’s only then that Tom realises Niall’s hair and shirt are still damp from rain and he wants to smack himself across the head.

“Damn, I’m sorry, you must be so uncomfortable in those. Let me just—,” he makes a move to stand up, hoping he can do it with some grace.

“Na-ah,” Niall stops him. “Don’t move, you have to rest your leg. Just tell me what can I change into and I’ll manage.”

A moment later Niall comes out of the bathroom, drying his hair with the towel Tom told him to take. The shirt he picked is stretching slightly across his broad chest and Tom tries not to stare. He takes a deep breath and looks at the opposite wall when Niall drops onto the couch next to him, Tessa already nudging him to get some snuggles.

“Thank you,” Tom says after a moment. He glances at Niall and sees that he is ready to shrug it off again so he continues, “No, really. You didn’t have to come all this way in the downpour just to make sure my pathetic ass is okay.”

“You’re not pathetic, don’t even say that,” Niall says, with more seriousness that Tom expected.

“Well I did sprain my ankle just before my biggest life chance and I did weep because of it,” Tom tries to joke and he hates that his eyes prickle just at the mention of it.

Niall moves on the couch so he can face Tom. “That’s not pathetic, Tom,” he says, squeezing Tom’s arm. “I’m so sorry it happened to you and if I were in your place I would bawl my eyes out.” When Tom only snorts and shakes his head slightly, Niall adds. “Totally would! Remember when I told you about that first time I was asked to play in a pub downtown but lost my voice literally a day before? It wasn’t even a proper gig and I cried like a baby when it didn’t work out.”

Tom nods a bit absent-mindedly. “Glad there were plenty of more opportunities for you.”

He doesn’t mean to sound bitter or crabby but he’s afraid he does, a bit. Not daring to look at Niall, he focuses his eyes on his hands resting on his hips.

“Tom.”

The way Niall says his name is gentle yet firm enough to make Tom look up. Niall’s arm slides up Tom’s arm and rests on his shoulder, Niall’s thumb resting against his collarbone.

“You’re gonna have tons of chances, too. I know how huge it is for you and I’m so proud and happy you’ve got a part. It fucking sucks that you might not be able to take it. But there’s still time before rehearsals start. And the whole world is waiting for you after you recover, because you’re an incredible dancer and nothing will change that.”

Tom feels his face going warm and he wants to turn his gaze away, to hide it, but he can’t. There’s something in the way Niall’s eyes are looking at him that makes him pinned to the spot.

“You just have to take care of yourself and rest, and let your ankle heal properly. And you can bloody bet I’ll keep an eye on you to make sure you’re taking it easy.” Niall points a cautionary finger at him, making Tom laugh. “Then you will be able to go conquer the world, be the famous ballet master that you deserve to be and forget all about your wanna-be musician friend.”

Niall is still grinning at him, but Tom shakes his head, amazed.

“Not happening,” he says with a smile.

“Totally happening! Metropolitan Opera, American Ballet Theatre, Paris Opera Ballet - they’re all gonna fight for you!”

“That is…,” Tom furrows his brows and chuckles. “An interesting, yet quite improbable image. But I didn’t mean that. I meant the part about forgetting you.”

Niall’s smile flatters. “Oh?” he lets out.

“How could I? You’re… so much more than a wanna-be musician friend to me.”

With pride, Tom notices that this is Niall’s time to be flustered and blushing. He feels as if a wave of warmth is spreading through his body from where Niall’s thumb gently caresses his collarbone and it takes all his willpower to suppress a shudder. Tom watches as Niall takes a deep breath and swallows, before he glances back at Tom, just for a moment, and then turns his head.

“You know…,” Niall starts, as if he’s considering something. “It really sucks that you’ve just sprained your ankle.”

Tom furrows his eyebrows, a bit confused at this statement. He chuckles to release some tension that has built up in him and asks, “You think?”

“Yeah, cause— For quite a while I’ve been trying to work up the courage and maybe, you know… ask you out on a date or something,” Niall says trying to keep his tone casual like they’re discussing the weather. Tom’s heart is beating too loud for him to pick up the shaky note in the apparent coolness. “You not being able to walk kinda complicates things.”

Staring wide-eyed at Niall, Tom opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to come up with anything sensible to say. After a moment he forgets about the sensible, trying to say anything at all. It feels like his brain froze. When Niall sends him a glance, Tom finally stutters, “I… What you just— You mean—?”

“What I mean,” Niall lets out a shaky chuckle and turns back to face Tom. “Is that I’ve been fancying you for quite a while and I have no idea why I am telling you this now but if you don’t believe I am the crying type, I’m probably gonna prove you wrong if you say no. That’s not emotional blackmail though, in case you were wondering, so no pressure.”

Tom shakes his head in astonishment and a surprised laugh escapes his mouth. “Shut up,” he says fondly.

“I’m trying, it’s the anxiety talking.”

Instead of answering, Tom cups Niall’s face in his hands and pulls him closer. His smile makes it hard to place a kiss on Niall’s lips but he eventually manages to do that. Niall leans away, just a bit and blinks, his face still so close that Tom could count his freckles if his eyes weren’t skipping from his eyes to his lips and back. A slow, bright smile blooms on Niall’s face and he moves his hand so his thumb traces the line of Tom’s jaw when they kiss again. And again. Tom tries to shift on the couch to get a better angle, but he hisses in pain when he accidentally moves his ankle. 

“See?” Niall pulls away after one more kiss. “This is what I meant when I said you’re complicating things.”

His dimpled smile and fondness in his eyes make it obvious that he is far from being serious. Trying to safely move his leg into the previous position, Tom laughs and shakes his head.

“I think you’re starting off on the wrong foot blaming me like this already, Horan.”

“Well, I can make it up to you by making sure you’ll soon be able to go for that date with me, Holland. And by providing more smooches along the way.” Niall says.

“Smooches?” Tom raises an eyebrow at the word choice.

“Loads of them,” Niall grins, leaning towards Tom again.

[eversall]

I CANT WAIT FOR THAT JIMON FIC OMG I HOPE ITS DONE SOON IM SO EXCITED

who is this???? i love you thank you for inspiring me to finish this

04.10.17 edit: found the anon!! inspired by @caqtis

introducing you & me || (jace/simon, coffee shop au, 5k+) || read on ao3

Maia ‘discovered’ Simon’s musical act through her girlfriend Clary, anddecided that she’d torment Jace – who is technically her boss – by letting Simon do a gig for their live music nights. Jacehates him so much. He’s loud, and obnoxious, and wears bright graphic tees thatstretch over his broad chest and are fucking annoying. He never shuts up, and has apparently made it is hispersonal challenge to piss Jace off as much as possible by calling him namesand bringing in increasingly ridiculous things for his sets. 

“You have a crush on him!” Maia had gleefully accused after Simon’s first night playing. Jace, leaning against the counter and watching the packed audience listen to Simon’s soft, crooning voice, had frowned and spluttered out “I do not.”

Jace definitely does.

.

“Absolutely not.” Jace says when Simon brings a tree into Java Jace. Simon, as usual, ignores him. “No,” Jace triesagain, “stop, don’t put a fucking treein my shop.”

“It’s for my set.” Simon says blandly. “Sorry, it’s a musician thing.”

Jace grinds his teeth and stalks over to the espresso machine, angrilysteaming milk. His hands move automatically, and three minutes later he slidesa latte across the counter and motions to Simon, who stops tuning his guitarand walks over to peer at it.

“Fuck your tree.” Simon readsfrom the foam. He snatches the cup and slurps obnoxiously from it “Ask the treefor consent first, honestly.”

.

Maia ‘discovered’ Simon’s musical act through her girlfriend Clary, anddecided that she’d torment Jace – who is technically her boss – by letting Simon do a gig for their live music nights. Jacehates him so much. He’s loud, and obnoxious, and wears bright graphic tees thatstretch over his broad chest and are fucking annoying. He never shuts up, and has apparently made it is hispersonal challenge to piss Jace off as much as possible by calling him namesand bringing in increasingly ridiculous things for his sets.

“You have a crush on him!” Maia had gleefully accused after Simon’sfirst night playing. Jace, leaning against the counter and watching the packedaudience listen to Simon’s soft, crooning voice, had frowned and spluttered out “I donot.”

Jace definitely does.

.

“I want a pumpkin muffin.” Simon announces, swinging his bag onto thecounter and hopping up on a stool. The crowd alternates between mind-numbinglyslow and terrifyingly busy as college students go from class to class, andright now it’s empty except for Simon, who – Jace checks his watch – isskipping his Management class, since it’s 2:10 on a Tuesday.

“It’s April.” Jace says disbelievingly. “Where do you want me to get apumpkin from? Go to Costco.” Simon yawns and slumps over the counter, pillowinghis head on his arms and blinking up at Jace from underneath absurdly longeyelashes.

“Are you turning away good business?” he asks, tapping his fingersacross the counter in an irregular rhythm. Jace slaps his hand away.

“Stop fidgeting. You never pay anyway.” He retorts, pouring out a cupof coffee and sliding it across to Simon along with the creamer jug. “Enjoyyour caffeine overdose, I have an actual job to do.”

“I have a job too!” Simon yells at him as Jace disappears into the backroom. Jace flips him the bird without looking, and he can hear Simon laughing,a low, rich sound. Jace smiles quietly to himself as he takes out a can fromthe back of his pantry.

Thirty minutes later, he pulls a muffin tray out of the oven andcarries it to the front again. Simon’s got his laptop and textbook spread outover the counter, and Jace sighs as he sets the tin down.

“Move your shit, you can’t have it so close to the cash register.” Hesays, and Simon pulls his earphones out and stares at him, blinking owlishlybehind his glasses

“Muffins?” he asks, shutting his textbook decisively and squinting atthe baked goods like they’re a foreign concept. “Pumpkin?”

“It’s puree from a can. Knock yourself out.” Jace pushes a muffintowards him, and Simon grabs one, letting out an appreciative moan as he bitesinto it. Jace flushes at the sound, and feels compelled to add. “Feel free toalso literally knock yourself out.”

“These muffins just might.” Simon says dreamily, ignoring Jace in favorof pulling his phone out to take a picture of the muffin. Jace shakes his headand busies himself refilling the sugar station, trying to tell itself that it’snot adorable that Simon’s dreamilycomposing a little ode to the muffins. Five minutes later he gets a messagefrom Maia.

Off season pumpkin muffins? Boyyou got it BAD.

Jace flushes and sneaks a look at Simon, who is inhaling down all sixmuffins like he’s never seen food before, and sends a quick message back.

I have NOTHING AT ALL I amallergic to feelings.

.

.

“You’re kidding me, right.” Alec says flatly, taking in the scene infront of him. It’s Friday evening, which means Simon is setting up for his gig.Jace hands a beaming couple their coffees before he joins Alec, who’s loungingby the sink and eyeing Simon setting up several mannequins on the tinymakeshift stage. Clary’s helping him, the two of them laughing as they arrangewigs.

“I wish I was.” Jace shakes his head. “Simon brings in a lot ofbusiness, though.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Alec demands. “What’s wrong with you?” Jacegives him a look.

“I’m not sleeping with Simon.” Jace says back. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re not?” Alec asks. “Huh.” He pulls his phone out of his pocketand types something in as Jace squints at him. Alec’s particular brand of aggressivelysnide, dry humor used to be a lot more subtle; something about that boyfriendof his makes him much more comfortable in his own skin, more likely to voicehis thoughts rather than bite them down. Truth be told, it’s amazing, but not so much when it’s at Jace’sexpense, which is now always, eversince Alec once saw Jace gazing longingly at Simon and immediately connectedthe dots.

“Are you texting Magnus?” Jace asks suspiciously.

“He was pretty sure you two were together.” Alec says, shrugging. “Imean, Maia’s Snapchat story regularly features you and Simon canoodling overthe counter.”

“Canoodling – “ Jace begins indignantly, before he notices a customercome in. He glares at Alec as he goes to serve them, and then doesn’t get todwell on it as the rush begins, people packing in to hear Simon’s set andordering coffee and food left and right. Maia appears for her shift, andtogether she and Jace manage the hectic buzz, dimming the lights and silentlymoving around, cleaning plates and refilling coffee as Simon sings.

The mannequins serve as some sort of strange transition aid – Jaceisn’t too sure – but people like it. Simon cracks a few jokes, talks a lot,gets Maia and Clary to come up on stage and dance with him briefly, and singshis heart out. Jace smiles a lot at the college kids, gets exorbitant tipsevery time he tucks his hair behind his ear and leans in a little close to acustomer, and softly encourages everyone to tip Simon as well. He discretelydrops half of the tips into Simon’s Darth Vader helmet at the end of the set asSimon is talking to people, and gives the other half to Maia.

“So badly gone for Simon.”Maia says, laughing, and Clary giggles at him.

.

“It’s five in the fucking morning.” Jace says, disbelieving, when Simonshows up at the shop on Wednesday morning. “Did you get lost or something?”

“Only thing I lost was my dignity.” Simon says, shivering and rubbinghis fingers together. “Got drunk with Raphael last night and I fell asleep athis place.” Jace stares critically at him and his thin shirt and flannel combo,then sighs, turning to rummage under the counter.

“Here.” Jace says, throwing Simon a grey hoodie and a cup of coffee.“Go put that on, caffeinate your hangover away, and then get your stuff and goto class.” He tries not to stare as Simon stretches and tugs the hoodie on, astrip of skin briefly slipping into view before Simon’s engulfed by Jace’shoodie. It stretches perfectly across his shoulders and his broader waist;Simon’s torso is longer than Jace’s and Jace swallows as he sees the soft fabricdrape across Simon’s body. That is hishoodie, and Simon is wearing it, his shorter arms engulfed by the sleeves, fuck, he looks rumpled and adorable andJace isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

“Class.” Simon moans, startlingJace out of his reverie. “This is really fucking warm, fuck.”

“Obviously, it’s hot coffee.” Jace snorts, moving back to his grinderand exhaling through his nose, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest as heconsiders how easily he handed over his own clothes to Simon. He’s so fucking gone for Lewis.  “I mean the hoodie, you fucker, I’m not that idiotic.”

“Not that idiotic? So youadmit you’re idiotic.” Jace says, sniggering, and he laughs outright when Simonwads up a napkin and throws it at him.

.

“Are you giving your girlfriend free pies?” Jace demands, peering atMaia from where she’s sitting at a table with Clary and Simon.

“As opposed to the small country’s worth of free coffee you’ve beengiving Simon?” Maia asks pointedly.

“I’m an artist.” Simon sayslazily, his feet propped up on the chair across from him. Jace slaps them offand takes a seat. “I pay with my art.”

“I’m an artist.” Clary says,shaking her head. “You’re an accountant.” Simon makes finger-guns and winks.

“You know it.” He says, and Maia and Clary nearly fall over with theirlaughter.

“No. Don’t do that. Nothing about your accounting act is sexy.” Jacesays, shaking his head. Simon turns his finger guns on Jace.

“I’ll shoot you.” He threatens, narrowing his eyes at Jace. Jacesmirks, and folds his arms.

“Alright, sharpshooter, shoot me with your imaginary gun. You wanna getyour imaginary friend over here while you’re at it? Maybe a box for you to playrocketship in – “

Simon scowls and kicks at Jace’s shin under the table; laughing, Jaceinstinctively catches Simon’s foot with his own legs and traps it, grinning atthe outraged look on Simon’s face.

“Give me my foot back.” Simon pouts, his lips pursed, and Jace waggleshis eyebrows.

“Make me.” He challenges, tightening his hold on Simon’s foot even asSimon gives an experimental tug. Simon’s cheeks are stained red, and Jace can’tstop smiling at him, his heart beating faster and nervous butterflies appearingin his stomach.

He’s not sure what he’s doing here, flirting like this. Usually it’scut and dry for him; he either picks someone up or he doesn’t. He never does this, waiting around for months, pushingand pulling at Simon and seeing how he responds, scared of the answer eitherway.

I just gotta enjoy what I havefor now, he thinks to himself firmly as Clary interrupts their bickeringand Simon turns to pay attention to her. Jace lets Simon’s foot go, but Simondoesn’t move his leg away, and they spend the rest of Jace’s break with theirlegs pressed loosely together. Jace is keenly aware of the warmth of Simon’sleg against his own, and every so often he looks over at Simon to see Simonstaring back, a small smile playing on his lips.

His phone pings, and he picks it up to see a text from Maia. Disgusting!!! Control the gay!!! She’stexted him. Jace scowls even as Maia giggles.  

.

“Wow, you do have nice eyes.”A cheerful voice says, and Jace looks up to see Simon walking in with a girlwho’s staring thoughtfully at Jace with sharp brown eyes. She looks veryno-nonsense, and Jace is suddenly struck with the absurd thought that thismight be Simon’s girlfriend, despite being fairly sure that he would have heardif Simon was dating someone. He freezes. 

“Uh.” He says, stumped.

“Fuck’s sake, Rebecca!” Simon says, flushing crimson. “Shut up, you’rean embarrassment to the human race.” He nervously runs a hand through his hair,and Jace looks between the two of them, trying to figure out what he’s in themiddle of.

“I’m Simon’s sister.” Rebecca says, ignoring Simon and stretching out ahand for Jace to shake. Jace suddenly feels immeasurably relieved, if still abit confused, and he shakes her hand as she assesses him. “You’re alright.” Shefinally says decisively, and Simon groans and pushes her. Hard, if the way she staggers seems to indicate, but sheimmediately straightens up and pinches him. Simon hisses, glaring at her, andJace snickers at the way the siblings automatically revert to five-year olds.It reminds him of the way he and Izzy would bug Alec when they were younger.And still do today, if he’s beinghonest.

“Thanks?” Jace says, amused, even as Simon flushes and turns back tohim. “What can I get you?”

“Caffeinate us.” Simon announces dramatically, leaning against thedisplay case and pretending to swoon.

“You’re the embarrassment tothe human race.” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “A mocha, please.”

“Everything I do is very charming.” Simon says confidently,straightening his jacket collar and making finger guns. “It’s part ofmy…charm.”

“Eloquent.” Jace snorts and moves to the display to take out a brownie.“Here, Rebecca, on the house for managing to survive with Simon as yourbrother.”

“Rude.” Simon says as Rebeccacackles.

.

“I give up.” Jace says, throwing his hands up as Simon drags in alarge, inflatable sun. “What the ever-loving fuck?” He watches as Clary humsthoughtfully around the sun and bends down, examining it. “This is high on thelist of absurd situations I never thought I’d end up in.”

“It’s a prop.” Simon explains as he pats it fondly. “His name is Corn.”

“Corn?” Jace asks. “Are you –insane?”

“Certifiably.” Simon says cheerfully. “It’ll make sense when I play myset.”

“Yeah, Jace, let the artist do his thing.” Izzy calls out from where’sshe’s perched on a table, eating a cake pop and taking great joy in hecklingeveryone around her.

“I’m an adult.” Jace bemoans. “I pay my taxes. I own a small business.Why are these things happening to me?” He shakes his head, laughing despitehimself as Simon simply responds with a long, drawn out “Coooooooorn” and goes to the back, resuming his work.

Two hours later, he’s making his round with the coffeepot as Simon playshis set. He freezes when he hears what Simon’s saying on stage.

“So recently – or not so recently, I guess, for a long time now –there’s this person? That I really like.” Simon says, pushing up his glassesand nervously laughing. Jace’s heart drops. “So, uh, I thought I’d play a songthat I feel like encompasses what I feel when I look at them. It’s a classic,too, so I hope you like it.” Jace frowns and pointedly goes back to the counteras Simon begins to sing you are mysunshine, picking his phone up and pretending to look at something elsewhile he seethes with jealousy. Figures.Of course Simon’s hopelessly crushing on someone already.

He feels crushed. Inretrospect, of course he imagined thething between him and Simon. What can he offer Simon? He doesn’t get all hisjokes, he’s not smart enough to do things like accounting, and it’s just –Simon’s so good. Of course Jace doesn’tget him. But for a while there – he’d hoped he could have this, God, he’d hoped so desperately.

Simon finishes his song and there’s a beat of silence. Jace doesn’tlook up even as Simon sighs and starts his next song. He doesn’t look at Simonagain all evening, counting down the minutes until he can go home and screaminto his pillow.

“What’s with the face?” Maia asks later as they begin to close up, Claryand Simon pulling down the set.

“Didn’t you like the songs?” Simon calls out to him, something anxiousin his tone. Jace feels dull when he hears that. His hearts broken, how muchworse can it get?

“It was fine.” Jace says shortly.

“Just fine?”

“I don’t know, Simon, I never really listen.” Jace grits out. “You’renot really my type. Of music.”

“Oh.” Simon says, his voice small, and Jace immediately feels bad.“Okay, I guess.”

“Jace.” Izzy says sharply,but Jace ignores her and escapes to the back room, leaning over the counter andbreathing hard. Fuck.

.

Simon doesn’t show up all week. Jace is miserable, but he’ll never admitit. Instead he continues to serve coffee and draws Captain America shields inhis lattes, morosely and bitterly scrolling through his text exchanges withSimon, berating himself for fucking up their friendship. So what if Simondoesn’t like him back? Isn’t Jace grown up enough to get over that andappreciate Simon’s friendship?

No, Jace’s treacherous innervoice whispers, it’s a lot more than asilly crush and you thought you had a chance.

“I thought I hated pining Jace, but moping Jace is somehow worse.” Maiainforms him, gently steering his hand away from the caramel and towards thevanilla. “This is a vanilla latte.”

“Right.” Jace says, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Maia mutters, walking away with the latte andserving customers before coming back to Jace, leaning against the counter andregarding him. “You really need to stop with this feeling sorry for yourselfshit.”

“I’m not – “ Jace begins before he basically gives up on the wholething all at once and decides to stay silent. Maia shakes her head.

“You know what would be great? Actually talking to him and asking him out.”

“It’s not that easy.” Jace says, shaking his head.

“You’re right. It’s scary.”Maia says. “But Simon put himself outthere. You can do it to.” Jace stares at her.

“Why would I ask someone out who literally dedicated a song to someonehe likes who isn’t me?” He asks, bewildered. Maia stares at him like he’s the one talking crazy shit.

“Huh.” She says.

.

Come Friday, Simon determinedly marches through the door exactly fiveminutes before his set is supposed to start. Jace pauses from where he’splating a slice of cake and opens his mouth to speak – he wasn’t even sure ifSimon was showing up, but here he is, stupid graphic tee and flannel combo andall, his hair in disarray and his eyes unfamiliarly intense as he storms in.

“Nope.” Simon says, pointing a finger at Jace. “Zip it. I’m not hearingany of it. You’re the dumbest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.” Hemarches onto the stage, and Jace has to rapidly blink his eyes and try to getrid of the lump in his throat at Simon’s words. What the fuck is happening? IsSimon that angry at him? He can’tfigure out where he went wrong – but he has customers, and he grits his teethand smiles weakly, serving the next sleep-deprived college student.

It takes Simon and Clary ten minutes to set up the sound system, andJace serves everyone he can and then tries to escape to the back room wherehe’s going to maybe break down a little and then eat his sadness away incupcakes. Magnus appears out of nowhere, though, and grabs his collar and dragshim to a table that Alec’s already sitting at before he can do that.

“Jesus.” Jace sputters.Magnus is strong, and he’s caught sooff-guard that the other man manhandles him with ease.  

“Izzy’s going to take over for a while.” Alec says, and Izzy wavescheerfully from where she’s tying an apron on, nearly knocking over a bag ofcoffee beans. Jace winces.

“And you are going to listen.”Magnus says airily, shoving Jace into a chair.

“I’m not having a good day, come on.” Jace says quietly, staring downat his shoes.

“Jace. Trust me.” Alec responds just as quietly, squeezing Jace’sshoulder.

“Testing.” Simon’s voice echoes then, and everyone falls quiet. “Okay,listen up everyone.”

Jace looks up despite himself. Simon’s got no props; it’s just him,sitting in the spotlight on a stool with his guitar slung across his shoulders.He looks so fucking good; Jace bites his lip as Simon makes direct eye contactwith him and glares.

“This song is for the idiotic owner of this lovable little pretentiouscoffee shop.” Simon says into the mike, and Jace opens his mouth to defendhimself, his anger rising, but Simon barrels on. “I dedicated a song to him last week but apparently, he didn’t getthe memo. I literally sang about him being my sunshine and he couldn’t readbetween the fucking lines.”

Jace heart stops and he clenches his hands; it simultaneously feelslike the universe is playing a big joke on him and like it’s giving him everythinghe’s wanted, a worrying combination of terror and excited adrenaline. He’s notsure what’s happening but he’s got a vague inkling, and he wants it so badly tobe true but he’s not sure what he’d do if it is – or what he’d do if in somebizarre twist of fate it isn’t.

“This one’s for you, Jace, you dick.”Simon says furiously, and then he starts strumming his guitar with a level ofaggression Jace has never seen before. People are laughing good-naturedly, butJace is frozen.

“You are my motherfucking sunshine, my only goddamn sunshine,” Simonsings, “and you make me so happy, when skies are grey, you’ll never fuckingknow dear – no, sit down, Jace – “ this he tosses out as Jace stands up almost unthinkingly,his body thrumming with the undeniable need to do something. He doesn’t even know where to start with the angriestrendition of the song he’s ever heard. “Sit down, I just – “ Simon sighs andtakes a deep breath before he strums his guitar again, this time softer.

“You are my sunshine,” Simonbegins to sing again, his voice low and melodic, “my only sunshine. You make mehappy, when skies are grey.” Simon’s eyes are locked on Jace, his gazeintense and heavy and so, so warm.Jace feels like he’s standing on the edge of a precipice, his body heldtogether only by Simon’s song.

“You’ll never know dear, how muchI love you.” Simon slows down, the silence between notes heavy. “Please don’t take, my sunshine, away.”

Jace is moving before he knows it, stepping up onto the platform anddragging Simon into a kiss. Simon laughs into it, surging forward and pressingback, hard and unyielding. The kiss is an explosion of heat, sparks racing upJace’s spine and dancing across his skin; it’s the two of them leaping over theprecipice, tangled together. Around them, the crowd is cheering and clapping,but Jace can hardly hear them over the pounding of his own heart, pulling awayto look at Simon, whose eyes are closed.

“Simon?” He asks. His hands are still cradling Simon’s face, and one ofSimon’s hands is at the base of his neck, holding him close, while the other iswrapped around the guitar.

“I’m savoring it.” Simon says dizzily, finally blinking his eyes open.His absurdly pretty eyelashes flutter, and he grins crookedly at Jace. “I spenta week thinking you rejected me.”

“Well.” Jace says, pressing another quick kiss to Simon’s lips. “So didI. Even?”

“Even.” Simon confirms happily. “Now get off my stage, I have a set toperform.”

“Rude.” Jace says, but Simon briefly brushes their noses together, hiseyes fond, and Jace smiles as he steps back, taking a small bow as peoplewolf-whistle at him.

.

“I think you should make out with me onstage more often, it reallyincreases our tips.” Simon says incredulously as he leans against the counterlong after everyone else has left. Jace wipes the espresso machine down,rolling his eyes.

“Don’t pimp me out for your music.” He says sternly, or tries to say sternly. He’s so happy he feelsgiddy with it, though, so it’s hard to do anything but keep staring at Simon inquiet disbelief that this is actually happening.

“Aw babe, but it’s so romantic.” Simon says, pressing a hand to hisforehead and pretending to swoon. Jace growls and grips the front of Simon’sshirt, yanking him forward and pulling him into a fierce kiss, greedilyswallowing down the little moans that Simon lets out. He feels more than hesees Simon’s hands scrabbling for purchase on the counter as Jace slips histongue past the loose seam of Simon’s mouth.

“How can I – “ Simon gets out between kisses, gasping for breath, “Justlet go for a second, Jace, so I canget over this damn counter.”

Jace laughs as he loosens his hold on Simon’s shirt, pulling back towatch as Simon scrambles from the stool to the counter, swinging his legs overand about to jump to the ground before Jace stops him with a hand to his chest.

“Better this way.” He mutters as he pushes Simon’s legs open and stepsinto the resulting space, sliding his hands up Simon’s torso and diving back into relentlessly kiss him. Simon arches his back, groaning, and locks his legsaround Jace’s waist, looping his hands around Jace’s neck and kissing backfervently. He gets a hand in Jace’s hair and tugs hard, sending a sharp spikeof lust skittering across Jace’s skin. Jace whines and his eyes screw shut, hisbody rolling against Simon’s as another part of him begins to perk up at theproceedings. Simon makes a delighted noise.

“To clarify,” Simon says, pulling back and dragging his thumb acrossJace’s lower lip, his eyes dark. “We’re dating, right?”

“I’m really far gone for you. I’ve wanted to date you for months, and I think we’ve basicallyacted like a couple for months too.” Jace says softly. Simon smiles at himbefore he uses the grip he has on Jace’s hair to tilt his head back and presshis lips to Jace’s neck, setting his teeth on the skin and gently biting beforesoothing over the spot with his tongue.

“Love it.” Simon murmurs as he leaves an aggressive hickey on Jace’sneck, his hips jerking up against Jace’s. Jace moans in response, pushingSimon’s T-shirt up his back and digging his nails into the corded muscle inSimon’s back. “Love you.” Simon adds.

“Love you too.” Jace says, his cheeks heating up, and Simon grins athim, pulling away from his neck and dragging his shirt up and over his head,tossing it to the side –

- where it hits an unimpressedAlec in the face.

“Jesus.” His brothersplutters, as Magnus eyes them critically. “On the counter? Where we all drink our coffee?”Izzy, Maia and Clary are behind them, snickering.

“I wipe it down every day. I’m very clean, I have an A rating.” Jacesays snippily as he clutches Simon closer, trying to hide both of theirerections. Simon’s buried his head in Jace’s neck, his bare shoulders shakingwith silent laughter as he does absolutely nothingto help Jace.

“That’s still just wrong.”Alec whines. “My coffee.”

“What do you want?” Jaceasks, trying his best to give off getlost vibes.

“To see if you guys wanted to get dinner with us, Jesus.” Alec says,his nose wrinkled as he throws Simon’s shirt back at them. Jace catches it andsets it down on the counter.

“A celebratory dinner, for you two idiots getting your act together.”Clary pipes up. Jace shudders, his concentration thrown as Simon starts tolightly press kisses to his neck, apparently uncaring of their friends watchingthem.

“Get a room, you guys are impossible.” Maia says in a disgusted tone,but she has a self-satisfied smile on her face as she surveys the two of themwrapped up in each other.

“This is a room, this is my fucking store.” Jace gasps out asSimon tugs at his hair again.

“Whether you leave or not, I’m going to suck my boyfriend off in theback room.” Simon says, finally looking up and squinting at everyone. “I spenta week being sad, I just want some time with Jace.”

“Fair enough, if a little too much information.” Magnus agrees placidly.“Come on, Alexander, we’ll just go to dinner with the girls.”

“Be safe.” Izzy says, throwing them a wink as she leaves.

“Sanitize.” Alec bellows at them before he closes the door, and Jace huffsout a laugh that turns into a choked off moan as Simon lightly scratches hisnails down Jace’s stomach and rolls his hips again, a surprisingly gracefulmove that has Jace forgetting all about his siblings just being in there and instead focus on how unbelievably beautifulSimon looks, staring up at him with his faint smile, the corners of his eyescrinkled in happiness.  

“I was serious about the sucking off part.” Simon says lowly. “If youwant too…? If it’s too fast, just say the word – “

“Months of foreplay.” Jace groans, tugging on Simon’s broad hands.Simon obligingly slips off the counter as Jace steps backwards towards thestore room. “Come on, we’ve got a lot of teasing to make up for.”

“A man with a plan, I like that.” Simon says, pressing forward andshoving Jace against the storage door, his eye flicking over Jace’s workspacebriefly before he fixes them hungrily on Jace again.

“I should hope you like me, you just serenaded me.” Jace snipes,hissing at the end as Simon shoves his thigh between Jace’s legs. He grindsdown automatically, aching for friction.

“Will you serenade me?” Simonmutters, pushing Jace’s shirt up and thumbing over a nipple. Jace moansincoherently, his mind scrambling for words.

“Sure, I play the piano. I’ll – ngh– perform Chopsticks for you.” Hegasps out. Simon laughs.

“I want Mozart, you asshole.” He says, his own voice strained. Hepushes at Jace’s shirt, and Jace gets the hint and drags it off.

“I’ll sing for you.” Jace admits as Simon presses close, his skin warmto touch. “I’d do almost anything for you.”

“I would too.” Simon kisses him. “It’s embarrassing, honestly, how goneI am for you.”

“Yeah.” Jace sighs, moaning into the kiss as they find a rhythm. “Yeah.”

.

“You can’t just bring a trampoline in here and call it a prop!” Jacesays the next Friday, crossing his arms. Maia is doubled over the counter,wheezing with laughter.

“Yes I can.” Simon says confidently, trying to drag the huge thing in.

“This one might be a little impossible.” Clary pants, her hands on herhips as she considers the trampoline.

“Artistic license.” Simon huffs out, wiping his brow. “Plus I’m datingthe owner.”

“He sounds like a real pushover.” Jace sighs, leaning back against thecounter. “Go ahead, try to fit a fucking trampoline in here. See if it works.”Simon grins and runs over to press a kiss to Jace’s lips.

“Thanks babe!” he enthuses, and Jace smiles despite himself. He’s sohappy with Simon; it’s kind of ridiculous. If Simon wants a fucking trampoline,he can have it. It’s Simon. Jaceloves him.

.

(The trampoline does not fit. Jace laughs for weeks about Simon being defeated by a trampoline.)