#most likely at her house or another de's place but f it it is her bday we can be wherever if we want to lmfao

[junkissed]

taste like gold

★ | member — bf!mingyu x bf!woozi x f reader ★ | genre — smut, established poly relationship ★ | word count — 2.8k

★ | synopsis — jihoon's favorite way to unwind? a shower. mingyu's favorite way? a shower with jihoon.

★ | warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, dom!jihoon, sub!mingyu, sorta sub!reader. shower sex (no piv), blowjob (m), masturbation (m), edging (m), kissing (reader x gyu), cum in mouth/on face, some praise, nicknames (gyu: puppy, boyfriend, baby / reader: darling, girlfriend, baby). this is a poly fic so all three of them are in a relationship ★ | notes — a very late birthday/very early xmas present for my wonderful @onlymingyus ! i've been teasing her with this for a while so i hope you like it <3 if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a poly mingyu bathroom smut fic for mars i'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but weird that it happened twice? this fic contains mxm themes. you are responsible for the content you consume: don't like, don't read. if you're not comfortable reading then this isn't for you. i wrote this for mars because she is poly; if you do like it, she writes a lot of poly fics so i highly recommend checking out her blog! as always: feedback, asks, and reblogs with comments are super super appreciated and help me keep writing :) merry yaoi-mas everybody

it’s been yet another long day for mingyu.

he spends his precious time running around, errand after errand, phone calls and emails and meetings, and he despises it all. he has a better place to be: at home, with the two people he loves more than anything in the world. he hates being away, because every second spent away from you and jihoon is a second wasted. 

every day it gets harder and harder to leave in the morning knowing he has another tiresome, monotonous schedule ahead, with the only reprieve the promise of returning home to both of you in the evening.

he tosses his coat over the back of the couch and flips on the kitchen light, the warm yellow glow spilling into the hallway. it’s been a longer day than usual, so he’s not surprised that dinner was eaten without him. without even having to check the refrigerator he already knows you’ve saved him the leftovers: the same worn red tupperware container and a sticky note on top with a sweet message, because that’s what you always do for him. he makes a mental note to update the calendar on the fridge with his dinner reservation for three this weekend, because that’s what he always does for you.

the next things he notices are the bedroom light on, the glow coming from the crack in the doorway, and then the hum of the shower running. he know better by now than to think he’d come home to a quiet house. no matter how many times he tells you not to, even after he protests and pouts because he wants his wonderful boyfriend and girlfriend to get their beauty sleep, he always find at least one of you still awake, patiently waiting for him to join you in bed.

he wanders down the hall, gently tapping on the bedroom door before he creaks it open. you look up from your laptop in bed, and your smile when you see him lights up the room far more than the lamp in the corner.

“jihoon’s in the shower,” you let him know, and he bites his lip, leaning against the doorframe. he doesn’t miss the way your eyes wander over his body, the tight black t-shirt he always wears when he wants your attention, the one he knows makes you jealous even though you swear it doesn’t.

“should we join him?”

jihoon runs his hands through his hair, pushing the long blond strands of his bangs backwards out of his face. his shower at the end of every day is what he looks forward to most, a time to de-stress and prepare himself for another busy day. he’s never been the type of person to enjoy morning showers, but he can’t lie and say that’s the only reason he takes them at night; at night, there’s a better chance that you or mingyu will be home. and although he loves the time alone to think, company never makes it worse.

steam fills the room, surrounding his body in heat and fogging up the mirror. it’s been too long since he’s had you and mingyu all to himself, and the bathroom feels too quiet. it’s hard to coordinate schedules, but he misses the warmth of your voice filling his ears and the bubbly tone of mingyu’s giggles. he needs more than the cold, apathetic sound of water hitting tile.

but then, as if he’d conjured you from a dream, the door suddenly opens and he lifts his head at the noise. his dark eyes settle on your figure as you stand next to mingyu, dwarfed by his larger one.

droplets of water collect in jihoon’s eyelashes as he stares at you, his expression kept neutral as he tries to hold back a smirk. he knew mingyu was working later than usual tonight, so like every other night he wasn’t expecting much. but the sight of you both standing there is a welcome surprise, one that he will never turn down, and he can tell exactly what you’re asking without saying a word.

it’s silent for several seconds as his gaze locks with yours and mingyu’s, as if he’s tempting you to break the eye contact and walk away, to wait for him to cuddle you to sleep like he always does. neither of you do.

“coming?” he finally addresses you both, unable to hold back a grin in anticipation. the look on your faces is almost adorable, how blatantly eager you both are.

you’re the first to respond. you slip off your clothes and let them fall, collecting in a pile on the floor as jihoon slides back the glass door to welcome you in. your movement spurs mingyu into action, and his clothes join yours piece by piece as he strips bare, nearly stumbling over himself in his eagerness to follow you into the shower.

jihoon moves out of the way so mingyu can stand under the stream of water, sandwiching you in between them. your heart races as mingyu draws you in, rivulets of water trickling down his toned chest as his eyes silently roam over your body, and you can’t help but study him in return. 

your gaze drifts again to jihoon, who’s now standing in the corner of the shower looking pleased. you can see the flash of lust in his eyes as mingyu grips you tightly, pulling you closer until you’re standing flush against his body, and the proximity sends a shiver of desire down your spine at the knowledge that jihoon is watching.

“why don’t you take care of him, baby? i’m sure he’s had such a long day.” his tone is low and smooth as he turns his attention to mingyu, who’s been awkwardly pouring soap on a loofah but freezes at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. jihoon’s head is tilted downwards, his eyes lifted to look up at him through his eyelashes, and even though it’s not directed at you it still makes you shiver with how powerful the look is. “haven’t you, gyu?”

mingyu whimpers at the attention, unable to find the words to responds, and it only confirms in jihoon’s mind how badly he needs this. he glances back at you, your eyes so focused on mingyu that it almost makes jihoon laugh— you need this, too, just as much if not more.

you feel jihoon’s gaze on you, and you manage to pull yourself away from staring at mingyu long enough to catch his nod. you start to reach for him, your hand trailing down the defined muscles of his abdomen, but jihoon tsks out a disapproving noise before your hand can find mingyu’s cock, holding in a bated breath as you wait for instructions.

“you can do better than that, darling. don’t be shy. let him use your mouth.”

you look up at mingyu for confirmation as he nods quickly, unafraid to let his eagerness show, and without another word you drop to your knees in front of him. his eyes widen a little bit in excitement as you position yourself on the floor of the shower. his body blocks the stream of water from the shower, keeping you mostly dry as you watch trails of water race down his thighs.

mingyu reaches down in front of you and uses his hand to pump his cock to full hardness, although he was more than half hard already. jihoon just continues to smile from his spot at the other end of the shower, letting you get situated the way you like.

“go on,” he says once you’re both finally ready, two needy sets of eyes pleading at him and waiting patiently. “make yourself useful, baby. show him how much you love him.”

you turn your gaze back to mingyu with a grin, taking him in your hand as you begin to guide him into your mouth. his cock is thick, so much that you can barely wrap your hand around him, and you have to open your jaw wide to fit his tip inside your mouth. gently, gradually, you sink down further and further on his length, pausing every few seconds to inhale shakily through your nose.

you haven’t even started moving yet but mingyu’s already panting, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists as he struggles to adjust to the warm, tight feeling of your throat around his cock. after a second of turmoil he puts one hand on your head, tangling his fingers in your wet hair with a gentleness that seems out of place compared to his size. he’s always gentle with you, sometimes a little too gentle, but it only takes a word from jihoon to have him roughing you up the way you love.

behind you jihoon lets out a sigh, his gaze fixed on the scene in front of him. he takes his own cock into his hand, his fingers loosely gripping his length as you bob your head over and over again down his boyfriend’s shaft. as much as he likes to actively participate, he’s also content to just watching the two of you please each other, going round after round while he keeps control, relishing in the way both of you hang on his every word. 

you’re both so good to him, and he tightens his hand as he watches you gag around mingyu’s cock, half pretending that it’s your mouth on him instead. but he doesn’t need this as much as mingyu seems to, and to him, watching is more than half the fun. besides, there’s plenty of time for himself later, after you’ve taken care of gyu. next time, maybe he’ll bury himself deep in your pussy and make mingyu watch instead. or maybe he’ll let him take you too, because your moans always sound so much sweeter when both your boyfriends are inside of you at once.

mingyu thrusts his hips once, shallowly, experimentally, and you open your mouth wider to let him slide between your lips with ease. you reach up to put your hands on his thigh and squeeze a little, giving him a signal to continue. the veins in his biceps bulge as he squeezes his fingers around your hair, a constant stream of whines pouring from his lips like the shower water that pours down his back. 

“look at him,” jihoon commands, almost in amusement, and you swallow and crane your neck up so you can lift your eyes. the image above you is truly a sight to see, and you can’t help but preen at the sight of mingyu's fucked out expression, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed deeply in concentration as he bucks his hips into you faster.

“he loves your sweet little mouth, doesn’t he?” jihoon urges you on. your fingers dig into mingyu's thick thighs harder in an attempt to stop him from moving so much, but you're useless against him. he's practically fucking your throat, panting out breaths with both hands firmly tangled in your hair to hold your head in place. “whose mouth do you think is better, puppy? mine, or hers?”

“fuck—” mingyu stutters, and you feel his grip on your hair tighten as he struggles to concentrate enough to organize his thoughts. “both. fucking love this mouth, god… hoonie, please—”

“please what?” jihoon says, his voice dominant yet still calm as he watches. “tell her what you want, baby. use that pretty head of yours, hm? use your words, you can do it.”

mingyu groans and scrunches his nose, trying to focus. “wanna— ah, please can i cum? can i cum in your mouth? shit, baby, i'm so close…”

you hum out a sound of acknowledgement around his cock as you glance up at jihoon, but it only makes mingyu groan louder as he feels the vibrations from your throat surrounding his sensitive, aching length. he loves the way you’re both so obedient for him, always asking permission, always being so well-behaved when he’s in charge.

jihoon stays quiet for as long as possible, drawing out the moment until mingyu looks like he's about to cry from the effort of holding back, but he finally breaks and nods. “go ahead, puppy, fill up her mouth. you've earned it. you've been such a good boy for us, love.”

at his words you let out a moan simultaneously as mingyu does, snapping his hips into your mouth a few more times as he chases the high. you try to swallow the spit that’s pooled in your mouth, but the sudden tightening of your throat is what finally sends mingyu over the edge. he pushes his cock as deep into your mouth as he can, gasping and groaning and grunting praises scattered in between cries of your name and jihoon’s.

you can feel his tip throbbing on your tongue with each rope he releases down your throat, filling your mouth until you’re forced to pull away to breathe. the rest of his cum ends up on your face as you lick your lips and swallow the thick substance in your mouth, letting out a gasp of your own as you finally inhale a full breath.

mingyu’s hands in your hair tighten for just a second before he releases you to let you sit back, bracing himself with one large palm flat against the shower wall and the other gripping your shoulder. his neck rolls backwards as he stares up at the ceiling, letting out a whine that reverberates off the tiled walls of the shower and fills the room.

as he leans to the side his body moves from the shower spray, and you shiver as the warm water hits your lower half. drops of water trickle down your neck and between the valley of your breasts, but it’s hard to tell if it’s only from the shower or if it’s sweat.

jihoon releases his length with a wince, letting out a shaky exhale as he offers you his hand. his cock twitches in sensitivity, still fully hard and now aching at the release he denied himself. but he knows you’re not done, and he knows it’ll be well worth it later. mingyu pulls you the rest of the way up, helping you balance against him after kneeling on the hard shower floor for so long.

with barely a second to let you breathe, mingyu leans forward to capture your lips, his deep voice groaning out your name as his arms slide down to sit firmly around your waist. you melt into him, automatically moaning into the kiss, and he greedily swallows your noises until it feels like he’s going to suck the breath right out of your lungs.

he kisses you harder, one hand falling to your hip while the other reaches up to cup your jaw and guide your mouth further into him, his tongue prodding between your lips in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out. he can taste the remnants of salty bitterness on your tongue, and it only makes him whimper into your mouth in delight.

his eyes are hazy when you finally pull away from the kiss. he pulls you into his chest and holds you tight, your cheek pressed against his warm skin as you feel his heart pounding. his arms are strong around you, his thick muscles sliding around you easily from the water and sweat, one hand holding the back of your head to keep you against him.

mingyu waves his arm and then you feel jihoon behind you, brushing your wet hair off your back so he can leave kisses across your shoulder before moving in closer. jihoon’s hands glide between your bodies, cupping your breasts as he holds you between him and mingyu.

you can feel how hard he still is pressed against your ass, but before you have a chance to say anything, jihoon reaches to flip the water off with a flick of his wrist. the temperature in the bathroom instantly falls at the loss of the hot water, but with the two men around you it’s barely even noticeable.

jihoon is the first to let go, sliding back the glass door and stepping onto the bath mat to start handing out towels, and mingyu is suddenly very, very grateful that he doesn’t have work tomorrow because it’s clear that none of you will be getting any sleep until dawn. but there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be right now, clean and comfortable and happy with the two people he loves more than anything.

© junkissed 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to be notified when i post new fics? join my taglist!

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please reblog or leave a comment or an ask! it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! i put a lot of time, love, and effort into my writing, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!

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[marlynnofmany]

One More Earth Animal -- Part Two

(Part One is here)

Fernando Hwan Tengku-Jones was expecting a cat. His friend on the colony world had said they were sending one that somebody’d left behind — poor thing! —and Fern couldn’t wait to give it a good home. He’d already cat-proofed his quarters as best he could. Fragile things were put away, his reading lamp was secured to the bedside table, and he’d grabbed a few cardboard boxes from the recycle stash that would make good hidey-holes. A litter box should be available somewhere in this space station’s commerce sector — he’d been here before. He could check after the drop-off. As much as he would have liked to get that set up first, he wasn’t in charge of the schedule.

His Frillian crewmates were curious about the companion animal that the captain was allowing him to bring onboard. He’d spent the last half of the trip telling them every story about cats he could think of. Each of them rippled their frills in patient disinterest, but he didn’t mind. They’d be won over by the adorable kitty soon enough.

When the ship docked at their usual berth, Fern did his part in helping unload the usual shipment. The specialty maintenance shop here always ordered the same stuff at this time of the rotation. Everything was normal. But then Fern got to dash off to meet another ship, and he was more excited than he’d been in a long time.

He called ahead, and was told to meet at the cargo bay door. When he arrived, he saw that this ship was unloading boxes as well. He didn’t see any logos anywhere, and the boxes weren’t even all the same kind, plus the crew wasn’t wearing uniforms.

Looks like one of those freelance setups, he thought while he patiently waited at a distance. That always sounded like such an unreliable way to make a living. But at least they get to travel to interesting places. Where there are cats!

When the crew finished handing the motley assortment of boxes off to a motley assortment of customers, the one with the tablet waved him over. This was a cute little lizard who probably wouldn’t want to be described that way. As yellow as a very serious banana. She called into the ship for somebody else to come out, and Fern was delighted to see another human carrying a cat-sized cage.

“Hello!” the other human said, waving her free hand. “I have something important to tell you about your new friend here.”

Fern was immediately worried. “Is it injured? Or pregnant?” His captain had approved a single animal, not a litter.

“Thankfully, no!” she replied, setting down the cage with the front turned away from him. “First of all, he’s perfectly healthy and perfectly tame. And he’s been fixed. But most importantly, his stink gland has been removed.”

“His what?” Fern thought of his aunt’s cat who had stunk up the house by scent-marking the walls. Wasn’t that just pee, not a gland?

“Congratulations,” the other human said. “You are the proud owner of a non-spraying skunk.”

“A what?” Fern said on reflex, processing her words.

She lifted the cage and turned it so he could see inside. “This is the friendliest little snuggle buddy, and he likes being brushed.”

Fern stared. A very fluffy skunk stared back. While most of his brain was still circling in shock, the thought surfaced that the animal really did seem tame: not threatening to spray even though its gland had been removed. Theoretically.

He asked, “You’re sure it’s completely de-stinked?”

“Yes.” The other human nodded. “Our medscanner is top-notch. And I spent a lot of time with him on the trip here; I’m certain he was hand-raised as a pet. No idea how the poor guy ended up in the middle of nowhere, but he more than deserves a loving home. Think you can give him that?”

Fern’s heart twinged, and he shook himself. “Yes, absolutely. Did he come with a name?”

The other human smiled. “Nope! That’s up to you. I’ve been calling him Fluffy, but that’s just a placeholder.”

“Seems pretty accurate,” Fern said, gazing through the bars.

The yellow lizard stepped forward with the digital paperwork. Fern signed for the skunk, his thoughts in a whirl.

“If you’re already set up with cat food, good news: skunks will eat that,” the other human told him. “They’re omnivores, so this guy will eat a lot of the same stuff you do, just try to keep it as close to nature as you can out in space: plain and not overly processed. He’ll love peanut butter and chicken eggs if you can get them. Oh, and keep him away from the usual list of Crazy Human Toxic Foods! No chocolate, onions, garlic, or caffeine. Or hot peppers, though that’s more unpleasant than poisonous for him.”

“Right,” Fern said, handing the tablet back. “Good to know; thank you.”

“Sure thing! I hope you guys have a long and happy life together.” She presented him with the cage and gave his uniform a look. “Merchant ship, right?”

“Talented Toolmakers, of Frillian Pride,” Fern recited automatically as he accepted the armload of skunk. “I got hired when the route changed to spend more time in human territory. But then it changed back, and I haven’t seen much from home lately.”

“Well this guy’s glad to have you,” the other human said. The lizard was already walking back into the ship. “We have to rush off to another delivery, but good luck! Skunks can get into places they shouldn’t, and claw things open that a cat wouldn’t be able to, so keep him away from the engine room.”

“Got it!” Fern waved goodbye as the other human trotted back onto her ship. While the bay doors closed, Fern took careful steps back toward his own.

He expected his crewmates to react in alarm at the news that his cat was a skunk … but he’d forgotten that they were unfamiliar with Earth animals.

“If it can’t make that smell, and it isn’t going to bite anyone, then I don’t see a problem,” the captain said. “Just keep it in your quarters while it gets settled in. You can bring it out under supervision later.”

“It really is as fluffy as you said,” remarked the engineer.

“What does it eat?” asked the pilot.

Fern replied, “A lot of the same things I do.”

“That’s convenient!” the pilot said. The others agreed.

And that was that. Fern took the skunk into his quarters, let it waddle around and sniff everything, then fed it a messy plate of cat food. He put a folded hand towel in the cage and gently stuffed the skunk back in so he could run off to buy a litter box without worrying about what it would do while he was gone.

He splurged on a fancy litter box with a covered top and an auto-scooper, designed for ship’s cats. When he set it up and opened the cage, the skunk went right for it, which was a relief.

Probably a relief for him too, Fern thought. He’s been in that cage a while.

The captain announced that they were taking off. Fern settled down to socialize with his new pet, confident that he wouldn’t be needed for a while yet. Their route was predictable, after all, and this next part involved a lot of empty space before they reached the warehouse.

A lot of empty space, and pirates.

Human ones according to the intercom, which just made the whole thing more insulting. This was NOT the taste of home he’d been missing. The captain’s announcement held a lot of profanity, and Fern could see why. It was bad enough to be shaken down when they had cargo they could be reimbursed for, but right now their hold was empty. And the pirates wouldn’t accept that.

They’ll want our own tools, Fern thought, looking around his quarters. And food, and fuel, and… His gaze fell on the skunk nosing about his bookshelf.

And fuck them.

He lunged for the intercom button. “Captain, if you’re sure they’re human, I have an idea.”

Several minutes later, the pirate ship locked onto the merchant vessel, and clamped an adapter over the airlock. Pirates gathered, ready to board, armed with guns and knives and vicious grins.

Those grins evaporated when the first pirate looked through the airlock porthole at what waited for them on the other side.

One lone human, wearing a breather helmet and carrying a fluffy, agitated skunk.

The pirates detached immediately and took off with enough thrust to rock the ship.

The pilot got the merchant vessel back on course, while the captain sang praises over the intercom, and Fern brought Fluffy the Fearsome back to his room for some well-earned brushing.

The next time that particular merchant ship passed through the area, it had a large emblem of a skunk pasted next to the company logo.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[enkas-illusion]

About My Man - Part 4/5

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Choso x f!reader, Suguru x f!reader

Rating: SFW - Still... MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff, language, hurt/comfort, drama (lots of it), kinda dub-con (can a hug be considered non-consensual)

Chapter Summary: As things between you and Choso start improving, so does your friendship with Suguru – but is it really possible to be just friends with someone you used to love?

Author’s Note: Did I mention I love cliffhangers? Hehehe. Literally took forever but here you go. Leave a comment and let me know how you’re liking it so far! Are you team Choso or team Suguru? ~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: L’AMOUR DE MA VIE by Billie Eilish

Part 3 | Part 5

Come Saturday morning, you feel no motivation to get out of bed since Choso had already left town last night, so ideally you plan to sleep in as late as humanly possible.

Your dream is short lived, however, when you’re woken up at 9AM due to an alarm you’d forgotten to switch off. You sigh as you sit up in your bed. 

It’s an unspoken rule, sleep will always evade you when you need it the most but will hijack your senses when you least need it.

You check your phone to find 4 new notifications from Choso.

Cho <3: This is NOT what I came home for!

<3 attachments>

They’re photos of his mom making him cook, clean and water the plants. You laugh when he sends you another selfie of him fake crying.

You: well, i had offered you a better option Thursday night :p 

Cho <3: Get your head out of the gutter!

yes, that option was way better in hindsight

You: your loss Kamo.

Cho <3: Is it though?… I’ll make up for it when I return.

You: How so??

Seen

You: Hello???

Cho <3: bye😙

You: Hey, explain yourself!

Cho <3: Sorry, the boss lady needs me for some more labour.

You: :( byeee

You find yourself getting happy at every little interaction you’ve been having with Choso in the last two days – the happy feeling of your initial crushing days returning with a feigned sense of normalcy. 

And you’re not the only one who senses it because when you come out of your room, still zooming in to take a good look at ‘your’ man’s handsome face, you hear Luna’s voice from the living room.

“Wow, you look not depressed,” she laughs, a little too energetic this early in the morning.

“When did you get home?” you ask, startled. You hadn’t met her since Thursday morning as she’d called in ‘sick’ yesterday, coincidentally along with Satoru who HR said was ‘horribly down with a bad case of fever.’

“1-ish? Not sure,” she answers, “you were sleeping so I didn’t wanna disturb you.”

“I was sure you’d stay with Satoru last night too,” you giggle, “since you guys were so fucking sick.”

“About that…” she giggles and you crash on the seat next to her, itching for gossip, “We kinda went on a date last night.”

You almost squeal in excitement before your eyebrow furrow, “Wait, then why are you home?”

Before she has a chance to explain, the man himself speaks as he walks out of the kitchen, “Oh hi, you’re awake too!”

He places a hot cup in Luna’s hand oh-so-lovingly before looking at you again, “Mornin’, do you want a coffee too?”

“Thank you,” you smile politely as he hands his cup to you before leaving for the kitchen again.

“That’s blondie? Can you believe this guy? He’s getting action in my house after cockblocking Choso and I a million times!” you whisper and laugh in disbelief.

Luna mouths an ‘oops’ and you wave your hand in dismissal, “Anywayyyy how is he?”

“Oh my god,” she giggles, a hand covering her mouth in disbelief, “He fucks… like really fucks! After last night, I really do believe you are a heavy sleeper.” 

You laugh, still waiting for more details as she blushes while speaking, “I don't know… I think there might be something there!” 

Your eyes widen as you slap her shoulder, almost shaking and swaying her entire torso in excitement.

“My coffee!!!” She squeals as it holds the cup away from her body.

“Sorry!” You giggle as you try to contain your excitement, “You like him? No fucking way this the same Satoru I know???”

She laughs, nodding aggressively. “I’ll tell you everything later,” she whispers when her eyes find Satoru walking out with another cup for himself.

“Sup nerd, what did you do without Lulu?,” he settles down on the chair next to Luna.

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary,” you answer.

“Sure your neighbour kept you busy, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrows, teasing you.

Right. You and Luna share a silent glance and you know what you must say.

“Satoru, listen to me,” you begin seriously, “Suguru and I never dated…”

His ears perk up as his attention focuses on you.

You continue hesitantly, “Well, there is some history but that's just embarrassing… I was obsessed with him when we were teens and he rejected me, flat-out.”

“Wha– I don't get it,” the confusion on Satoru's face is clear.

“Umm… technically I’ve never actually dated anyone,” you confess, “It never got so serious where I'd call them a boyfriend per se, ya know?”

“And that's okay, right?” his tone softens, different from his usually chirpy one.

“Yes but when Choso asked so suddenly, I panicked… and you didn't really help,” you chuckle awkwardly.

“You got nervous?” He asks, still trying to sort his confusion. You shrug.

“I don’t understand why you get so nervous around Choso…” his sentence trails off as his brain works overtime to figure out the answer.

How can this guy still be so clueless?

You simply shrug again. 

It must be nice being as simple-minded as Satoru. He set his intention on someone he liked, asked her out without thinking about the ‘what if’s and will probably have an amazing girlfriend before the month ends. 

How long have you been crushing over Choso again? Right, a little too long.

“But don't tell Choso… I'll do it myself,” you warn him.

“Hmm…” his face still pensive.

“Aren’t you guys worried about the office policy about dating colleagues?” you ask as you change the topic for good measure.

“They can’t fire me, I’m way too good at my job,” he manspreads on the chair before smirking at Luna, “...among other things.”

“Oh my god, am I going to see this more often now?” you cringe.

“And this too,” he leans over Luna to give her a sloppy kiss. Luna shakes her head at this, yet giggling into the kiss nonetheless.

“Y'all please, this feels like accidentally walking in on your parents,” you bring your hands up to cover your eyes. Luna laughs, pushing Satoru away.

“Anyway, I have some shit to do today,” he checks the time on his phone before sliding it in his pocket, “see ya.”

Satoru rummages through his pockets to fetch his keys before leaning over Luna once again to kiss her goodbye like boyfriends do, making her giggle at the gesture like girlfriends do.

Once you hear him leave, you raise your eyebrows to look at Luna, “Wow. This whole thing is so unexpected and sweet… and maybe I’ve just been an absent friend. I’m so sorry–”

“No, it’s okay,” she smiles as she holds your hands in hers.

“Tell me everything… when did this begin,” you squeeze her hand.

“Yup, but before that, I really wanna take a bath and have breakfast,” she sighs. You nod.

After you both take turns showering, you intently listen to the story of how your best friend started falling for the most unexpected person as you made breakfast.

By the last bite in your plate, the conversation ends up at your interesting love life again.

“Soooo, you had the house to yourself for 2 whole days,” Luna begins, “Why isn't Choso here?”

“Oh he’s gone to his parents home for the weekend,” you inform.

“Well, what about the day before yesterday?” she asks.

How to tell your best friend that your crush had asked you to take it slow?

“Please tell me you at least made out,” she crosses her fingers.

You shake your head, “We… talked.”

“Bleh! Boring!”

“Hey!,” you scold her defensively, “it wasn’t really that kind of a moment, you know?”

“What is that kind of moment? You just grab the guy and kiss him!” she states as she sandwiches your face between her two palms, squishing your cheeks.

“I see now why you and Satoru suit each other,” you chuckle as you remove her hands from your cheeks. You clear your throat before speaking again, “But I’ve decided to tell Choso the truth–”

The doorbell rings interrupting your conversation and you walk out to attend to it. You swing the door open just as the man is about to press the bell for a second time.

Oh.

“Hi,” Suguru smiles at you.

“Hi?” you answer, not expecting him at such an odd hour. 

“What are you doing in the afternoon?” he gets straight to the point.

Well, you weren’t expecting him at all so you look at him with your eyebrows knitted. You don’t remember committing to any plans.

“Well, I was cooking and wanted to invite you over for lunch,” he speaks again to answer the unasked question.

“Uhh,” you think about the offer when you hear Luna’s footsteps as she yells out, “Who is it?”

Suguru is quick to grab your hand before you answer her and you stare at him in confusion.

“Umm– I was hoping it could just be us?” he whispers with hopeful eyes.

You hold his gaze as you inform Luna, “It’s Suguru! He’s inviting us over for lunch.”

“Oh fun!” she yells back.

You give him the most insincere smile that you can produce. He simply sighs, returning your smile without showing his disappointment.

“See you guys soon,” he smiles at Luna who’s now standing behind you, waving at him.

“Yup, see you!” 

As you close the door, you get a text notification from Choso and you find yourself smiling once again.

“Are you actually happy about the invite?” Luna asks curiously.

“What?” you look up, “No…it’s Cho… he’s been texting me since morning.”

“What exactly did you talk about?” she asks, curiously, “Cause from here, this looks kinda confusing...” 

“Umm– just give me 2 days. All you need to know for now is that I'm gonna confess about my feelings and everything else too. I’ll tell you the whole thing then… that is if I don’t die of embarrassment,” you explain.

“Best of luck babe,” she chuckles as she pats your back to show her sincere support.

~~~

When you hear the bell ring in the afternoon, you and Luna both assume it's Suguru as you laze around in the living room.

“Get it,” Luna slides down further into the couch.

“No, you,” you're the same way as you stop scrolling on your phone.

“He's your ex-crush,” Luna pauses the Love Island episode you were watching together.

You get up just as lazily, channelling your inner koala as you attend to the door.

“Hi,” Suguru says and he's visibly surprised at your sleepy state.

“Hi… no, we remember your invite. We were just enjoying the weekend,” you answer the question written on his face as you rub off the sleep from your eyes.

He chuckles at this, “Okay then, ready whenever you guys are. I've set the table.”

He waves at you before heading back to his apartment. You simply wash your hands and face out of habit before leaving your apartment. 

You feel instant relief when you see Luna come out in her pyjamas as well because ‘it's literally next door. We don't need to dress up.’

Any sense of formality fades away when you notice that Suguru also skipped dressing fancy and found him wearing an apron over his clothes instead. 

“Hi, welcome to Suguru’s eatery,” he jokes when you walk in.

“Smells delicious. Have your cooking skills improved?” You compliment him.

“You wouldn’t have to pretend to not be suffering,” he answers before turning to Luna, “I was kind of a bad cook when we were young.”

“Oh,” Luna chuckles as she catches up.

Suguru guides you both to the dining table where he had set up the plates. He makes a show of pulling off the foil off the tray and you’re pretty sure your stomach rumbles at the delicious lasagna and garlic bread platter in front of you.

“Ooo, impressive,” Luna sings.

“Thank you,” he bows down, gesturing at you both to sit down. As you settle down, he brings out a bottle of wine with three glasses, placing it on the table.

“Got a day-drinking habit?” You joke as he pours the wine in the glasses.

“Only when the company's right,” he winks at you. Your cheeks grow hot at his unbridled flirting — yet you remind yourself it's not about who, it’s simply about the audacious openness with which the man is complimenting you in someone else’s presence.

As your internal monologue goes on, Suguru serves the lasagna onto the plates. The aroma is so flavourful that it brings you back to reality. 

“Shall we?” Luna chirps. You nod, ready to dig in. As soon as the first bite of flavour melts on your tongue, you almost feel as if you’d be addicted to the taste by the time you’re through with it.

“Suguru, what the fuck!” you gasp and he looks at you, concerned.

You shake your head in a hurry to clear the confusion, “Sorry… I just– the food is really good!”

“Oh,” he chuckles, relief washing over him, “thank you.”

“I can’t believe you made this!” you express your surprise.

“Come on! He mustn’t have been that bad before!” Luna defends him as she takes another bite.

“No, trust me. When we used to have family dinner together, our moms used to ask me to sit in a corner just to be safe,” he reminisces and you laugh as you nod your head to verify his story.

“Do you remember how you were convinced I pretended to be shitty at cooking to avoid kitchen duties?” Suguru asks you.

“Yeah… well, in hindsight, I got the easier task because you always had to wash the dishes because it was the one thing you couldn’t fuck up,” you tease.

“Wow, you guys really go way back,” Luna wonders as she turns to Suguru, “tell me more about her, I need some dirt.”

He begins with a coy smile, “Well, do you wanna know about before the relationshi–”

“Cut the act, she knows,” you interrupt him, “she’s the one who created the damn lie.”

“Oh… good. Then I can talk freely,” he smiles at you again before turning to Luna.

And that’s how the entire conversation turns into fishing past memories out of your Pandora's box. 

Suguru mostly tells Luna about the you he knew from a different time and Luna is amused at every revelation that unfolds from his anecdotes. As your plates are almost licked clean and you slowly sip from your half-empty glass, you sigh at the bountiful dinner.

“Got room for dessert?” he asks as he looks at you proudly.

“Really?” you ask in surprise, “also made by you?”

“From scratch,” he’s smug about it and rightfully so.

“We’ll always have room for dessert,” Luna perks her lazy head up at the mention of something sweet.

“If there’s one thing I remember as clearly as ever, it’s your love for desserts,” Suguru smiles at you.

“Really? But you usually give me the bigger piece!” Luna looks at you and you blush.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, “Then know that you’re dearly loved by your roommate… I remember this one time, like a year before we left for college, we attended the town’s fair on the very last day. She was sooo obsessed with the Tiramisu they sold at one of the stalls that she almost cried when they were sold out that day.”

Luna looks at you inquisitively.

“I arrived too late,” you shrug.

“Well, there’s something that never changed,” she sticks her tongue out to tease you, “but did you really cry over Tiramisu?”

“Nope… I got it before I could let the tears flow,” you blush involuntarily. As if on queue, Luna looks at Suguru.

“I went early to get one for her cause I knew it would get crowded later on,” Suguru said calmly, without boasting.

“Oh my– That is soooo rom– cute!” she clears her throat, remembering your pre-dinner warning about not melting at his ‘honey traps’ so easily.

And once again, as a professionally trained best friend, she looks at you before joking, “Are you sure I’m not the one you love instead of Choso?”

You roll your eyes at her but fail to notice the way Suguru’s posture slightly stiffens up at the mention of Choso’s name. He doesn’t let it show but Luna catches it anyway.

“Enough about this one… tell me something about you!” She asks him to keep the conversation from going awkward.

Your phone buzzes and when you read the name, the voices in the room turn into background noise. You open the text, holding your phone under the table in order to be discreet.

Cho <3: You remember this?

<1 attachment>

It's a photo from last halloween when you'd accidentally matched costumes with Choso – you're both wearing ‘Vote for Pedro’ t-shirt, side hugging with your cheeks squishing against each other’s. 

You smile at the memory, remembering how Satoru had picked Napoleon Dynamite for movie night the week before Halloween and you'd DIY'd the t-shirt last minute because you were too lazy to pick an elaborate costume. You hadn't known Choso for that long at the time so it was the craziest coincidence, all things considered, and that might as well have been the beginning of your infatuation.

You: yes!

Cho <3: Mom asked me who the girl was cause she’s “pretty”

You: well if your mum thinks so then i must be

Cho <3: Hey i tell you that often!

You: parental approval is on a different level…anyway what did you tell her 👀

Cho <3: What do you want me to tell her?

You: idkkkkk, it's up to you 

Cho <3: I told her that you're someone who makes me really happy

You: haha… now, what did you really tell her?

Cho <3: Only the truth

You: 👀

Cho <3: How about I tell you when I return?

You blush, biting your lip, trying to contain yourself from grinning like an idiot. 

Suguru notices nonetheless.

“Who is it?”

“There's only one person who makes her blush li–” Luna stops mid-sentence when you swat her arm.

“I’ll get dessert,” Suguru excuses himself to go to the kitchen.

Luna mouths an ‘OH MY GOD’ when he’s out of sight.

“Don’t fall for it… I know he’s too charming but it’s a trick, he’s a pro at this!” you whisper a warning.

She’s about to say something when Suguru reappears with a tray. When he sets it down in the centre of the table, your eye almost pop out when you see three tiny plates with big scoops of Tiramisu.

He grins at you, “I know I’m no chef but I still tried for you.” 

For the first time tonight, you genuinely feel that queasy sensation in your heart as you stare at Suguru. You were trying not to lead him on but was being just friends really enough for him? No one makes a full-course meal for just friends… or maybe they do when they have unresolved guilt of having wronged their best friend.

You brush the thought away and instead compliment him for the umpteenth time tonight, “Thank you Suguru. This looks really good.”

“Save it for when you actually taste it,” he serves the plates.

He smiles with his eyes and for a fleeting moment, you feel nauseated at the fact that deep down you appreciate him doing this even when you no longer have any romantic feelings towards him.

“Shall we?” you grin as you dip your spoon into the white creamy layer. The first bite is equivalent to about 5 bites as you stuff your mouth with it, your eyes almost rolling back into your skull in an ungodly manner – but you contain your emotions.

“Oh god! Suguru, this is–” you exclaim and Luna adds a ‘holy shit!’ 

“Thank you,” he blushes at your compliments.

It isn’t another hour later that you say goodbye as you decide to go back to your apartment. As Luna unlocks the door, you feel the need to say what you’d been holding back all afternoon.

“Umm… listen,” you turn to look him in the eyes, “I loved this a lot. It was perfect… but I hope you know that I’m not angry at you for the past… w-what I mean is that you don’t have to do so much for me or feel the need to overcompensate or whatever, ya know?”

He calls your name softly to stop your rambling, “If it’s any consolation, I really do enjoy cooking now and would do it for any other friend as well.”

“Hmm… okay then. Thank you for the meal, Suguru. See you around,” you take your leave.

~~~~

The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly. You collapse on your bed once you’re done with dinner and chores. You’re about to scroll the night away when your phone rings.

It’s Choso.

“Hello, is this a butt dial?” You speak before he answers.

“My ass isn't that fat,” you hear him on the other end.

“It's pretty fat from what I've observed,” you roll over till you're lying face down on the bed, kicking your feet behind you. As lovesick as they come.

“Should I feel violated?” he laughs. 

“Please I've caught you staring at my boobs more times than I can count on my fingers,” you scoff.

“Just a sec– What now mum? Want me to help you out with dinner?” He fake shouts on the other end.

“It's past midnight,” you burst out in a fit of laughter. He waits till your voice dies down before calling out your name, lovingly yet hesitantly.

“Yes?” You ask.

“I'm sorry,” the hesitation fades, his voice as clear as ever.

“What for?” you ask, taken aback.

“For ghosting you. That was really stupid. I was being jealous and insecure and I definitely don't wanna lose you over a misunderstanding,” he sighs and you can feel the relief in his voice.

“Cho…” you speak softly – a certain sadness you weren’t aware was hiding inside starts dissipating when you hear his apology.

“I know you, of all people, love talking a lot. So much so that if I keep the call on and let you start a story, I could nap before you eve–”

“Is this an apology or a roast?” you interrupt to scold him.

He clears his throat, “Pardon me. I love your stories, I will never take a nap in between… moving forward.”

“Hey!”

“Kidding! Sorry! What I wanted to say was that I promise to never ghost you ever again. I know it upset you and it was a dick move. Whatever it is, I will talk to you about things from now on. Promise,” his voice is sincere. With every word he speaks you can sense the playful familiarity being restored to his voice. 

You feel the warm feeling in your chest once again, “Okay Kamo. You're forgiven.”

“Thank you. You're the best.”

“Save it. I need 10 more weekly ice cream dates instead.”

“Make it a hundred… my bike could use the regular runs,” he’s smug about it too – you can almost picture the satisfaction on his face each time he makes such declarations.

“Summer won't last that long,” you pout.

“Then we'll go for hot chocolate.”

You nod before realising he can’t see you, “Sounds like a plan.”

Silence hangs in the air before you disrupt it.

“Choso?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you test the waters. 

“What is it?”

“When will you return? I wanna tell you in person,” you announce, hoping that putting it out there would keep you firm on your decision to confess.

“For you, I could come right away.”

You chuckle at the intentional double entendre, “I’m serious!”

“So am I,” you hear him cackle before speaking again, “hmm… Monday morning probably?”

“Alright, see you on Monday,” you smile, “Anyway, did you only call to apologise?”

“And to hear your sweet voice,” he has you blushing once again. 

You talk for another hour or two before the drowsiness takes over. The last thing you remember as you fell asleep while on call with Choso was him laughing and accusing you for dozing off, followed by you jokingly scolding him to tell interesting stories if he didn’t want you to sleep.

In the morning, you woke up to a text from Choso informing you that he was going fishing with his dad and uncle, meaning he won’t have internet connection till the evening.

Your Sunday now seems to be dedicated as missing Choso day – empty and boring.

That was until Luna told you during breakfast that Satoru and Maki were coming over. And then Maki texted that she was bringing her boyfriend over. Until she bailed to go someplace else with him – and then there were three. 

When they say love is in the air, they fail to mention its casualties are usually the lonely side characters withering away in the background. So that’s how the evening begins, with you being the third wheel during Sunday evening hangout at your place.

“Toru! You had one job” Luna shouts at him with her hands on her waist, taking the serious mom stance. After sharing half a bottle of wine, Satoru casually mentioned he forgot to get more bottles as he had promised he would.

“Sorry baby, I was so eager to see you that I forgot to bring it,” he pouts.

“Save it–”

“I can get it,” you volunteer, needing the excuse to catch a break from the lovebirds.

“You sure?” Luna asks.

“It’s not that late. I’ll be right back… just order the food on time, I’m starving” you get up from the sofa, grab your phone and keys, making your way out the door.

As you wait for the elevator, your cheeks feel a bit warm. It’s not enough to make you feel drunk per se but just a little tipsy – at least enough to make the split ends of your hair seem interesting enough to fiddle with. The elevator dings and you look up to find Suguru inside, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Are you drunk?” he questions as he gets out of the elevator, blocking the door for you.

“No,” you scoff as you get in, “maybe just a little?”

He laughs, “Where to?”

“To get more wine cause Satoru forgot to get it,” you roll your eyes.

“Alone?” he questions.

“I’m not a kid.” 

“Let me accompany you,” he walks back into the elevator without waiting for your answer.

You press the G button and watch the door close as you ask him, “Have you had dinner?” 

“Not yet.”

“Wanna join us?” you ask, praying he could be the fourth-wheel. Besides, you felt responsible for treating him to a meal in return.

“Sure.”

You turn your head to look at him and find him already smiling down at you. You nod as you dial Luna and she’s quick to pick up, “Lulu, order more of whatever you’re getting, Suguru is joining us.”

Throughout it all, from your trip to the nearby liquor shop to dinner and drinks, you’re in your own happy state as thoughts of Choso flood your brain from time to time and aimless conversations with Suguru, Luna and Satoru fill the gaps in between.

Around midnight, when there’s a persistent lull in the conversation, Luna and Satoru excuse themselves to retire to her bedroom, and just as you yawn, it’s Suguru’s clue to take his leave as well.

“Thank you for dinner,” he smiles as you walk him out.

“You’re welcome,” your cheeks feel hot due to how drunk you are and you lazily lean against the door for support.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he smiles at you, finding you a little-too-adorable than friends are supposed to. He brings his hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“What’s it to you?” you narrow your eyes at him playfully.

“If you’re free after work, will you go out for dinner with me?” he asks.

“Suguru–” you sigh.

“As friends!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you try to be firm without seeming rude.

“Why not?”

You clear your throat as you fidget with your hands, “Choso returns tomorrow, I’m gonna tell him the truth and probably confess my feelings to him while I’m at it. If there’s any hope for us, it's probably better if it’s not built on a bunch of lies.”

He doesn’t speak. You look up to see his conflicted face.

“What?” you nudge.

“Don’t.”

You stand up straight as your eyebrows furrow, waiting for an explanation.

“Don’t do it. I’m asking you now. Give me a chance,” he’s serious.

“What?,” you ask, laughing in disbelief, “That’s… what? I’m sorry, am I hearing things? You literally just asked me for dinner ‘as friends’.”

He holds your hands into his, “We have history, we know each other. Yesterday and today, spending time with you has made me realise that we still have a chance. What we have runs much deeper than anything you might have got going with Choso.”

You free your hands out of his hold. Seeing him dismiss your feelings gives you a deja vu, “Why can’t you just accept that my feelings for you have changed. It’s been years, for fucks sake!”

“You know what they say. Being drunk makes you truthful. So, just hear me–”

Pulling yourself out of your drunk daze, you interrupt him and calmly rationalize, “Umm… you should go, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I can hold my liquor just fine,” he defends himself, “You said my name when you had to fake a relationship… you know deep down that has to mean something.”

“No… I used your name because it was familiar. We’d known each other since we were kids! You were the first guy i really lov– liked… but that’s all there is to it!”

“Let me show you I’m worthy of being your first love.”

“I don’t understand you. We haven't spoken for 5 years– and now you’re here begging me for another chance?” The crease in your forehead deepens as your voice starts getting a bit louder.

He groans in frustration, “I thought I had this big adventure laid out for me in college and… I didn’t want to be tied down by a relationship that began even before I got to experience the real world–”

“Right, so that’s what I am to you… a last resort you can choose when others don’t match up to your expectations,” you interrupt him, your voice steadying slowly to avoid a noise complaint.

“No… everything I want to say is coming out wrong– fuck!,” he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, “I used to like you too. Why else would I still remember such silly little details about what you like and dislike?”

“Oh, I don’t know? Out of habit? We basically grew up together… hell, even I remember things about you just cause I’ve known them forever! But it doesn’t mean shit!” you refute.

He rests his hands on your shoulders, his composure collapsing as his face looks agitated, “I know I realised too late that it was you who I wanted all along – but I want to at least try and see if we really could make it work. I know you called me an idiot who only thought with his dick but now I want to cherish you the way you deserve. I’m a different person now, you’ve seen it yourself.”

“So am I… and I’d be a fool if I let you break my heart again,” you shrug with an indifference that stings him.

“Let me change your mind,” he towers over you, “Let me prove it–”

“Are you not listening? My feelings aren’t so volatil–” you don’t get to complete your sentence as it’s cut off by Suguru hugging you firmly.

“Don’t you remember? You used to call my hugs comforting,” he coos and you realise he’s more drunk than you are as he almost collapses over you. 

You sigh, taking a deep breath to relax as you try to pull his hands away to keep him from crushing you, “You’re drunk. Just go home. You’re not talking sense.”

“Me being drunk doesn't change the truth. I loved you and I think I still do,” he’s still hunching over, resting his chin on your shoulder. His arms wrap around you again and you hear a sniff.

“A-are you crying?” you ask him softly. This does not seem like the old Suguru at all.

“Just let me stay like this for a minute,” he sniffs again. You rub his back to console him as he hugs you tighter. He’s probably going to be embarrassed and sorry tomorrow morning when he sobers up. You decide you could talk sense into him then.

But what he does next surprises you. Suguru pulls back before bringing two fingers under your chin to tilt your face up. You stare into his eyes and remember the last time you’d hugged him like this.

Right, it was when he broke your heart.

In that uncomfortable silence, you wonder if you still held resentment in your heart for him. But that wasn’t the case – you conclude, even if you forgave him, you could never forget the heartbreak. And why would you? It was a good lesson for what it was worth.

What you hated was not him but his blatant audacity to think he could still win you over with a few charming tricks. As if simply being nice could compensate for the way he’d crushed your heart so carelessly – all the shit he tried to brush under the carpet as not being a big deal when it was convenient for him. 

Maybe being intoxicated has given you special powers but you feel like you can read his mind. As if on cue, not even a second after you sense his intention, he proves you right when he leans in closer in a desperate attempt to kiss you. 

~to be continued~

[cuddl3s4shur1]

•𝐁𝐎𝐗𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒•

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆:Earth 1610! Miles x F! Y/N

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓,’𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏:REUNION

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎:Your old bestfriend moves in with you for a while , during that time you gain feelings

𝐀\𝐍: This a little cute or whatever

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆:I dont know its a little angst but it gets happy an lovie dovie

Your room was like heaven in your eyes. It had most things you loved in ONE room. Your favorite books, your tv, your pc, And lastly your personal space. No one ever telling you about what you’re supposed to do in your room.

And yet all of them would come crashing down on one random day in June.

——————————————————

You would get up to your room taking another way to get up there instead of just coming in through the front door. You would get to your room like you always do. You were about to start your after-school routine, listen to music, and do your homework.

You open the door to see your room split in. Emotions would all come at you at once. You didn’t know what emotion you wanted to feel. But one that practically took over all the rest was confusion.

Why was it two twin beds instead of your queen, why were all of your beloved precious items pushed to one side while the other had items you never saw before,

“Mamá, ¿por qué mi habitación está a la mitad? ( Mommy, why is my room in half) “ you yell to her dance downstairs

You run downstairs, and in the process, you definitely felt like you missed a step, your mom was in the kitchen working on a meal.

You saw her recipe cards on the table.

Was family coming over you thought to yourself? your mother would only pull her recipe cards out if she had invited people over and wanted to impress them.

“Mama what’s going on first my room, Ahora tarjetas de recetas ( now recipe cards) . “you ask her confused about everything

The doorbell started to ring, she dusted her hands on her cooking apron. She would then remove the apron and head to the door . “ looks like the surprise came earlier than anticipated “ she would say.

“ You look at her confused, what surprise, and who on earth was at the front door?

“Honey this might be a little different for you, but remember Miles your childhood best friend, “ she asks you.

That’s when you knew exactly what was happening: she probably invited him over, but little did she know that you guys fell out a year ago.

“Sí, mamá ( yes mama) “

“Well I ran into his mom at the store, and You know Jeff is on a business trip, so u said they could stay with us... Isn't that great “ she says?

You begin to force a smile on your face “Yeah it's great “ you tell her.

“I was hoping they would come later so the food would be done, it's good there here now so they can get used to the home, “ she says, she answers the door.

You were trying to decide if you wanted to you upstairs or stay downstairs and introduce them to the house. You chose to stay downstairs you knew mama rio would want to see you.

“Ah, mi chica, mi chica (Ah my girl, my girl) “Mama Rio goes in for a hug with your mom

. “Te echaba de menos (I missed you) “ you mom whispered to Mrs. Rio

“Where’s my baby Y/n, I haven't seen her in forever, “Mama Rio says.

You walk close to the door and hug her.

She starts to squeeze you tight in her arms “I missed you too mama “ you hug her.

“Cariño, ¿dónde has estado? No te he visto desde el año pasado (Baby where have you been, I haven't seen you since last year ) “ mama Rio asks you.

“I've been busy you know “ you tell her

“ Mi chica, necesito que vengas a verme más ( my girl, I need you to come see me more)”she demands to you

she tells you “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll see more, “You tell her

, Miles brushes past you and starts to head upstairs. With bags in his hand . You go upstairs also and follow his lead . He places 2 bags in the room next to yours .

Mama rio was going to sleep their

Then he went into the room that you guys were going to share . He places his bags and go back downstairs. You were confused on why . You left it alone and went to your PC and started to work on your computer .

“So how’s life been “ miles try’s to break the silence you turn around while staying in your chair .

“Well and yours “ you ask him.

“I understand we're not really on speaking terms with each other but just so you know I still care about you, “ he tells you.

“Then if you care so much why did you start acting different and ghost me, “ you ask him “It's hard to explain, “ he says.

“just tell me the truth , when we fell out you made me seem like I something wrong like I made you go away “ you told him

“Thats not it y/n , i can’t tell you why “ he tells you , your mind goes confused.

“ok, thats fine, when you want to ... Then you can talk to me, “ you tell him and go back to doing what you needed to do.

He felt his heart beating fast like it was aching to tell you the truth.

He let out a sigh “You know Spider-Man “ he asks you, you turn around “ ofc, I mean you should know I love spider-man” you tell him

“Right right, we’ll let’s just say you know I know him, “ he says, you start to smile.

“Like really know him, Spider-man is me “Y'all both go silent, and a stare-off starts. You let out a tiny scram of excitement, he pulls you in his arm with his web shooter. He covers your mouth with his hand.

“Shh,” he tells you, “Y/n are you good “ your mom yells

He removes his hand from your mouth “Yes I’m good, it was a spider but Miles killed it “ you lied to your mom.

You guys both look at each other, you looking up at him, him looking down at you. His arm still on your waist .

“You can let go of my waist now, “ you tell him

. He removes his arm and you back up.

“Well uh that’s cool, I’m going to you know listen to music and do my work “

You say awkwardly and sit back down.

He was happy, he got his best friend and some new feelings for her Also.

[kavalyera]

On the Marquis de Gramont’s backstory(personal theory and own opinions)

“He[Bill Skarsgård] came to be, he goes, ‘I want to do a little bit like fucked up French like Cajun accent.’ I’m like, ‘I have no idea what that sounds like.’ Some people gave us shit a little bit because it’s not a good French accent. I’m like, ‘Guys, it’s not supposed to be French.’ Like, he wasn’t trying to be French, he’s a guy that speaks French.”

— Chad Stahelski on the Josh Horowitz Happy, Sad, Confused podcast

(“Marquis(de Gramont)” and “Vincent” used interchangeably)

I know that the Marquis has like the most fucked up accent out of all John Wick characters seen so far but this line from the director himself, Chad “would beat us up for all the shit we say on Wickblr” Stahelski is just giving me a whole lot of ideas on his backstory.

Unlike the characters seen before, Vincent [the Marquis] is one of the characters whose backstories are not explained or even touched on upon like the Adjudicator and the Harbinger. Santino for example, and I’m gonna use Santino as an example because he and Vincent share parallels— What do we know about Santino? Santino was there to help John on the night of his impossible task, establishing a connection between antagonist and protagonist in writing, Santino has a sister named Gianna, Santino’s father dies and bestows his seat to his sister instead rather than her. And then, Santino also owns a museum in New York.

But what do we know about the Marquis? Other than how he came into the Table there is literally nothing else about him. Just like the Adjudicator, there’s nothing much else to know about him or his backstory.

“Although claiming to enforce the will of the High Table, the Marquis' primary ambition is to further his own power and he only cares about the Table's rules in as much as they advantage him. When they work against him, he is happy to bend or even fully disregard them.”

— John Wicki

John Wick is like a world of high people, it’s larger than life and it’s practically a near fantasy world filled with neon fight scenes and showy places and characters.

There’s no reason as to why the High Table chose him specifically to take down John but seeing as how brutal his character is, and how much remorse he lacks towards other people underneath him shows what kind of person the High Table is looking for. And Vincent manages to cloak his violent tendencies underneath a layer of sophistication.

“The Marquis is a young man of unknown origin who has quickly climbed the ladder within the High Table doing god knows what. I always saw him as someone from the gutter that now savors the glittery suits he’s wearing. He functions as the new sheriff set out to rid the world of John Wick once and for all. John’s getting old and tired, the Marquis is offering him a way out. To be the one who finally kills the Baba Yaga would secure his status and power within the High Table.”

— Bill Skarsgård on an on-set interview

I’ve always thought of Vincent as a sort of actor knowing the movies. He’s amazing at networking, it’s one of his only skills according to the Wiki other than multilingualism. This is a personal theory of mine, so you can disagree: but I go with Bill Skarsgård’s interpretation of his character’s backstory. Well, kind of. I agree with the fact that the Marquis climbed the ladder of the ranks, but I do not think he was struggling as a child considering the House of Gramont.

Since this is my own personal opinion and theory on his backstory, I personally believe that the Marquis may have just been another person in the criminal underworld/not even considering to be an agent.

I’ve always been a fan of the idea of characters starting from the bottom and then using non-violent measures to get to the top. And to me, Vincent is a very good example of this(in this theory). But he doesn’t agree to the rules, we see this in the very last scene where Vincent takes Caine’s gun to finish John off himself— but that proves horribly for him.

Like every other antagonist against John before him, the Marquis is arrogant and prideful— probably the wealthiest character we’ve seen so far(considering we haven’t seen the High Table).

And I can see where that arrogance and pride may come from. Now with Bill’s interview, I think he did climb the ranks however I don’t think he was struggling from poverty. In my opinion, he looks to have the mindset of a guy from the upper class/upper-middle class and coming back to Santino who Vincent shares a lot of traits with, I sort of believe Vincent to mirror Santino’s a lot more than just being from poverty or just a civilian.

So, to sum it up: he’s adopted by the House of Gramont. And in the middle of it all, he may have went through something that got him interested into getting more power.

In my own headcanon, I think he has a sort of trauma that leads him into getting desperate for power. We see it on the screen, Vincent gets upset and frustrated when he’s not being seen with respect or if his ego feels threatened.

have a nice day folks!! :33

[projecthipster]

A Moveable Feast, by Ernest Hemingway

"A Moveable Feast" by Valerie Suter, from her authors series. Left to right are Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, James Joyce, and F. Scott Fitzgerald.

“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” - Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

"Les rêves des amoureux sont comme le bon vin / Ils donnent de la joie ou bien du chagrin" - Camille, "Le Festin" (Ratatouille Original Soundtrack)

Technically this wasn’t the first Hemingway I ever read. There’s been a few short stories, decent ones, out of a collection that’s still sitting on my shelf that I haven’t finished. But this was the first Hemingway book I’ve read cover to cover, and maybe it was a strange one to to start with. A Movable Feast could be thought of as both the beginning and the end of Hemingway’s story. Written at the end of his life in the 1960s and published posthumously, this is a memoir that nonetheless throws back to the beginnings of his career, living in Paris in the 1920s and struggling to be recognized as a writer, even among a community of some of the greatest literary and artistic names of the 20th century. James Joyce was in Paris at the same time. Ezra Pound, who was only just starting to be a complete fascist, was among the circle that met at Gertrude Stein’s house salon. And perhaps most notably of all, F. Scott Fitzgerald was just then publishing a little book of no acclaim, written in Paris but set in and all about New York, called The Great Gatsby.

For all the weight of the literary figures that fill its pages though, and that fill the left bank cafés and weary old streets of Hemingway’s nostalgic recollections, A Movable Feast isn’t a weighty read. It’s light, romantic in the archaic sense of the word, airy, almost cozy. It hums with saudade like a trumpet in a Montmarte jazz club. Certainly Hemingway’s consciously minimalist style, the most well-known hallmark of his writing, plays a part. As if to remind the reader of this, the first story tells simply of Hemingway’s daily quest to write a few good pages in a good café, and here he delivers some really great writing motivation: “write one true sentence.” And then do it again, because there will always come another sentence that the discerning writer can know is simple and true. But the lightness comes too from the fact that these years of bohemian bonhomie seem filled, through the filter of pen and page, with goings-on of little consequence but great value. The reader wants more than anything to be living the life portrayed in this book, to drink well and eat well and live in small apartments and share brilliant writing among a group of friends who are all brilliant writers, to be poor but happy in a world that stands apart from hustle and stress. Because isn’t that the hipster ideal? Of course, one has to question how true all of this was, being recollected through la-vie-en-rose-coloured glasses decades later. Or one doesn’t, if one prefers to simply take the chocolate as it rolls.

It’s been a couple of years since I read A Moveable Feast, and to be honest, a lot of the actual plot and happenings, or rather, hippenings, of Hemingway’s vignettes and short stories have faded. I know it started in that café, and then there were trips to salons and restaurants. I recall that there was a trip to a racetrack over the course of which Hemingway and his wife realized that what either of them can say and what they mean to convey can never be fully reconciled, and they worried about that fact until they came home, drank some wine, and concluded that that’s simply the human condition, and it renders everyone a fascinating mystery, so why worry about it? This all took place during a false spring when goat milk peddlers drove their herds through the streets of Paris, which makes the reader think, is any understanding we can gain of each other merely a false spring that we cling to because in the moment it's as good as the real thing? And if it is ephemeral, does that matter, when in the end everything is? And I remember that the book ended in the Alps, on one of the very original ski holidays, which as a skier a hundred years later, I loved. In between scenes of wide-open slopes and warm chalets, there’s a mention of a man killed from his neck being worn right through by the friction of an avalanche, as if to say, don’t forget, the dream exists among death. Just years before this recollection, this halcyon city of light was a place of war and fire, of the same war and fire that unmoored us all from the steady paths of violent industrial civilization and led us to seek this quiet life of secret glamour instead. And the hipster reading today, or in the glory days of the 21st-century hipster that’ve just barely passed us by, might feel the same way, and want to seek the same path away from the age of Covid and Trump and the failings of late capitalism, or, if we’re talking retroactively, of falling towers and George Bush and war in the desert and the Great Recession that seems routine now but was such an unmooring in 2008. That’s why the 1920s were an age of one kind of hipster, the 2000s and early 10s another, and we may be due for another. But back to Hemingway.

For all that rambling last paragraph trying to recall what happened in this book, what happened was never really the point. What lingers in memory is the feel of it all and the characters that populate the stories. I remember images conjured in my head of a 1920s convertible driving with a lost top, soaking in the rain through the fields of Champagne, complete with the smell of mud and lavender. I remember Gertrude Stein as the paradox she seems in Hemingway’s recollection: an iron woman of great softness, matron of a house where everyone was welcome, but you’d be on the street in an instant if you called her a mother; an open, almost evangelical lesbian who nonetheless thought that male homosexuality, specifically, was abhorrent. The text doesn’t judge these figures with their odd views. That’s left to the reader. Hemingway’s just observing; a part of what Stein eternally dubs the “lost generation,” but at the same time, its chronicler in a future much changed. As Hemingway’s Lost Generation friend Scotty Fitzgerland would famously write of his own narrator, he was within and without.

I give this hipster book five wine-soaked living room literature conversations out of five

Project Hipster is a futile and disorganized attempt to dive into the world of things that the internet has at some point claimed "are hipster," mostly through ListChallenges search results.

This review comes from the first list, Hipster Lit: If You Haven't Read 'em, Pretend You Have.

Stay deck.

[phoenixmaiden-gaming]

Assassin’s Creed III: Liberation part 11

So wow, a lot happened this time around. I finally read the diary pages from Aveline’s mother and learned some things. Went down to some ruins and found a relic and finally killed Rafael. And the most surprising of all, I found Aveline’s mother! She’s alive!! But the moment was brief and confusing. I was then returned to New Orleans where I had to chase down a recruiter who locked himself into a fort. So much to unpack. Here we go.

I had left off right before I had to go search for clues around Jeanne’s house, so I went to the area and had to use Eagle Vision to look for foot prints. It lead me around a house where I had to search some spots.

Around the back of a house, I found a hat that Aveline said it was her mother’s  and further down a bag that could be hers as well. At the end of the road behind a house I found a diary page and that was the end of the mission. (S4/M5: Trail of Truth - complete)

After the mission ended, I heard a voice again saying that they will help me uncover the truth. It was one of the Citizen E missions again. I had to find him and kill him. 

I looked around for a while and eventually found a gold outline up above and found the person inside the ruins. So I killed Citizen E and a familiar scene replayed.

It was the conversation with the Overseer again but this time, it made more sense. Before it was like there was something missing and this was what it was. Here was the conversation about the man who tried to run away, he had said they had talked about him before but I didn’t see it. 

In one sentence Rafael said he was in the mood for a hanging in dealing with the escapee and then moved on to ask about his suggestion on doctoring the worker’s drink with poison. Why he would want to do that when he needs workers? The Overseer voiced his concerns with that. Rafael agreed since he didn’t need another repeat of the Mackadal debacle. Wonder what happened there?

The Overseer came up with an idea to give the workers a feast and tell them they were close to them owning the land as motivation. Rafael agreed and said that he was right and that the Company Man was already displeased. Ah, there is where the scene started before. It makes more sense now with more context. Abstergo was altering the memories to make them look better. (Citizen E Encounter #2 - complete)

I finally took the time to read through Jeanne’s diary pages that I had collected and wow. I should have read them before. So it turns out that Jeanne was a slave and while she only gave the first initials, it looks like she knew Mackadal and Agate. Also, it seems like Agate and Jeanne were together and he tried to get her to join the Brotherhood with him but she didn’t want to. She was eventually sold to Philipe de Granpre, but before that she stole something from the Brotherhood. After several years, she became Philipe’s placee and they had a daughter, Aveline. Phillipe took an actual wife, Madeline - which sucks. Jeanne heard that someone moved into the Bayou and she feared they were looking for her because of something she stole. So, trusting that Aveline will be safe and loved by Madeline, she left. But she left the “Heart” with her. ooh something juicy there. 

Jeanne ended up here at this site where she worked hard and found an artifact that looked like the Heart of the Brotherhood she had stolen. She didn’t want the brotherhood or anyone else to have it so she hid it. She also said she didn’t trust Madeline since she hadn’t heard anything from her about her daughter and thinks that she is part of something else more sinister than the Brotherhood and fears what has happened to her daughter. After a while, someone de F, who I think is Rafael de Ferrer, banished her because she kept making excuses on not finding any artifacts so she had to go into hiding and somehow find a way to escape. Wow. What a story and I don’t even have all the pages yet. But also, I don’t even know who I can trust now. Agate tried to pressure Jeanne to join and instead got Aveline involved and now even Aveline’s stepmother may be involved in something...a Templar? Who knows.

I started the next mission and in the loading screen it showed the Animus Memory Notes that Aveline looked over the clues left behind by her mother and it lead her to a cenote’s entrance to find some treasure.

I had to go through a trail and then I had to jump down into a cavern full of water. Then I had to swim and dive down into the cavern and back up and out of the water, hitting some checkpoints. I found a treasure chest with some money in it.

I eventually got to a point where I learned a new move, using the whip to get across a big gap. It was a little hard to figure out to go at some points though and I kept falling. 

I eventually I had to swim down into a underground cavern and into an open area. Under the water I found a Mayan Statuette and then I went above water where I was in a futuristic room that was breaking apart. I then had to do a puzzle and put a ball into the center. Once I did, on the platform, a pedestal opened up to reveal an artifact, the Prophecy Disk.

Just then, there was a blast and part of the wall crumbled to reveal Rafael de Ferrer and some soldiers. He was here for the artifact and thanked Aveline for doing the hard work for him and he wanted me to take it from me.

I then had to kill Rafael, so I moved right away and killed him and pushed him through a hole in the floor. Now he won’t be a problem.

But, thanks to the blast in the mine tunnel, it was now falling apart and I had to race through as it came down around me.

Near the exit to the mines, I ran into the last person that I would expect. Aveline’s mother!! She was in disbelief that she was here and had thought that Madeline would have kept her safe, her and her heart. There was that word again, I think it’s an object.

Jeanne saw the blades that Aveline had and thought that she was there to kill her on Agate’s orders. But Aveline told her that she was here on her own will and had thought Jeanne was dead. Jeanne said that she never wanted to leave but if she stayed then “they” would have killed her and taken her heart. She didn’t explain what that meant and said that Agate should never be given the Disk and if he did, everything she had done would be for nothing. She didn’t explain how she knew Agate either and then left. I had to leave too before the mine collapsed and the mission ended. (S4/M6: The Secret of the Cenote - complete)

At the loading screen, the Animus notes said that with de Ferrer dad and the slave colony free, Aveline went back to New Orleans. Things were different now, but she still didn’t know the identity of the Company Man.

Sequence 5

Back in New Orleans, I went inside the Warehouse where Gerald was busy. He was surprised but happy to see her and she filled him in on what happened to Rafael de Ferrer and he told her that things have changed here in New Orleans as well. He said that the Spanish were sympathetic to our cause and have passed laws to make things easier for slaves to be free.

But there was a problem. There was some Spanish men causing trouble in the Bayou but because the Spanish was now aligned with them, was why it was strange. They needed to find out what was going on. An informant had gotten them a lead that he had seen a man bribing soldiers.

Aveline made to leave but Gerald stopped her and they had an awkward moment when she thought he was stopping her to talk about their feelings, but he was just returning her weapons. Awkward!!

I saw a new mark on my map that said Precious Stone, but I couldn’t find anything there, so I will have to come back to that.

I then tracked down the suspect and had to track him as he walked through town. Easy enough, I just blended in with the crowd and behind buildings.

He eventually met up with some soldiers and tried to bribe them right in front of me. He was telling them that his employer was prepared to be very generous if they joined their cause. So there was someone else behind it...

The recruiter spotted me and started running while the soldiers attacked, but I ignored the soldiers and gave chase. He was fast and I had to weave in between civilians while making sure the soldiers behind me didn’t catch up.

I didn’t make it in time and the recruiter  ran into the fort at the corner of the town and the door closed. That was the end of the mission (S5/M1: Prodigal Daughter - complete). I guess I will have to find out a way to get inside the fort and kill the recruiter, but that will have to wait until next time. This post has gotten too long and I can’t add anymore, so that is it. Happy Gaming!

[j2miner]

"The mistress will be right down, Can I get you something to eat, some tea perhaps." The butler asked as I sat of the vintage couch, trying not to shiver. The furniture being a mish match of styles didn't quiet fit the ascetic of the mansion, then again nothing from the modern era really does.

"No," I say & take out the thermal flask, the cheep tea bag giving it a vagally fruity flavor clamming to be 'Orange Blossom'

"You realize that you don't need to do that," the butler said, dusting another corner of missed matched candle holder "it doesn't work that way with me."

"I'd rather not take the chance." I snipped back, what I learned is that you always need to go back to the original mythology of a creature to know there true abilities, at least to the older ones. Guess what, its all mental. If your a new one then yes, you get the whole package, but I was dealing with a 200 year old vamp & a Fae.

Huffing the browny turned to me and stated with a rather un ingenuity deminer and flatly stating "I am a Browny, a house cleaning spirit, one that is the unseen helper. One that is forced to leave if insulted by the homeowner, That being Lady Matilda good sir. I have no reason or means to harm you."

"Yah, but old Lovecraft took the name eldritch from the old word for Fae" I shoot back, leaning forward to look at them but not into there eyes. "I'm not gong to take chances. I've read the Brothers"

"I'm sure you have', just like how everyone in the modern age has read Homer, or Marks, or Tolkien." they show back, not bothering to look at me as they continued there work by the fireplace.

Sighing I relaxed and mumbled "I'm a F-ing HVAC tech, and got dragged into a world of Magic mumbo jumbo, how the heck am I suppose to react?"

Pausing the butler tilted there head in thought, then said "Like with any other client, respect. You, unlike your fellow craftsmen, do not seek to swindle your clients. You do good work, and are willing to do overtime in order to get the work done right, and not just done."

Taking another sip of my thermos I asked "And her?" I asked my eyes drifting to the stairs, both of knowing the meaning of the subject.

"She has always been well adjusted, but too… naïve" they hesitated, speaking of the home's owner in such a way. "It is why she was turned in the first place, too trusting… And what got her trapped in the first place."

We were going to continue but the intentional creaking of the upstairs door, one that they paid good money for, alerted us to the owner of the house.

"Ah, Matt, so how is everything? Did you figure out what happened to the System, it only twenty years old." The mistress of the house asked, she stiped down to the Victorian equivalent of skimpy wear, a fan in her hand as she tried to bear the overheated (to her) house.

"Not god" I said pulling out my phone & showing her pictures of the Compressor completely blackened "The thing was way to small when it was put in.. Because it was never meant for running all the time, or at such a low temperature, meant only during the height of summer." I didn't know what she expected, the place wasn't supposed to be at a balmy 40 degrease "The system is going to need to be torn out & replaced, your going to have to get something larger, probably a 4 ton. And you need a dehumidifier"

"De-humidifier?" She asked, not familiar with that word

"It takes ingenuity out of the air, so you don't get water condensing off your walls. Dry and Cold instead of Wet and Damp." I stated back "I like the walls drippings," She said "I reminds me of home"

"I's also destroying your house, there pools of water where there shouldn't be, and its warping the wood… I wouldn't be surprised if there's a lot of mold in the walls as well." I said

"That's what a Undead Vampire's home should be" She stated, not getting why I would want to get rid of it..

Sighing I rubbed the bridge of my nose, the supernatural had a.. Interesting taste in dwellings, but they were a lot more accommodating than most people. "Stuff isn't built like it use to be, if this keeps up y'all have to gut the house & re do it in half a year, and it would only last ten after that."

Eyeing me she sighed & walked over to the cabinet pulling out the check, Mumbling i herd her say "What happened with Human ingenuity to make an item last past your death?"

Taking the check in hand I said "Consumerism & short term memories. No one what's seeming good but expensive, they want something cheep that they can throw away. So we can start Sunday, it going to be…."

A Idea that came to mind while reading vampire folklore & Tumbler head-cannon posts, Vampire are usually obsessive, be that at people or things. And we have the trope of them twisting things into grotesque version of there previous interests, such as using blood to paint or twisting human bodies into monstrous statues. What happens to vampire who have more mundane interests/hobbies? What happens when a thousand year old vampire obsessed with candle making do? (Well besides start using a multitude of human bodies as the bace for the candles), Would they do shit like taking ten years to mold & carve a decretive candle in the shape of hyperrealist animal only to toss it into a pile of other previous attempts at a slight flaw?

And that is assuming there hobby is creative, what if the fang barer had something like physical exercise? "Ok, I have my jog around Europe all planed out, It will take three months, ill get back just in time to start laundry, have a quick snack before Elizbeth show's up". I know that they cant cross running water & the sea has a lot of salt so they cant exactly do a "Swimming across the English channel" but between the tips of South America & Africa, but still what sort of cray shit would they get up to?

Then again on the other side, how lazy & bad can they get. The 'I can do it later' mentality but when you have a near endless immoral life you can put stuff off for decades. Imagen trying to get the money for a commission you started in the early 1800's only to find that the entire bloodline is dead, and having to track down any connection, and the only living blood descendent is some HVAC technician living out in nowhere Ohio who knows nothing of his family history other than he was adopted & now has to try and convenes this Vampire that 1)he doesn't want it. 2) cant afford it, and 3) has no room for it in his shack of a house.

[derangedrhythms]

Hey, do you have a quote compilation about living with a lover, that sense of a shared life, shared horror and love?

'The Shipfitters Wife' by Dorianne Laux

'To You Again' by Mary Szybist

'Parable of the Swans' by Louise Glück

'The Ache of Marriage' by Denise Levertov

'Tea' by Carol Ann Duffy

"…I don’t mean what other people mean when they speak of a home, because I don’t regard a home as a…well, as a place, a building…a house…of wood, bricks, stone. I think of a home as being a thing that two people have between them in which each can…well, nest⁠—rest⁠—live in, emotionally speaking."

— Tennessee Williams, from 'The Night of the Iguana'

". . . Isn’t it funny and lonely being together [...] No place to go except close. Shall we just love and love?"

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, from 'Tender Is the Night'

"She goes to wash and dress. I know her routine, her sounds, her movements, so well. But today I’m listening like she’s new to me. I don’t want to get used to her. I don’t want to lose her to habit."

— Jeanette Winterson, from ‘As Strong As Death’ published in ‘Eight Ghosts: The English Heritage Book of New Ghost Stories’

"Oh! yet one smile, tho' dark may lower / Around thee clouds of woe and ill, / Let me yet feel that I have power, / Mid Fate's bleak storms, to soothe thee still. / Tho' sadness be upon thy brow, / Yet let it turn, dear love, to me, / I cannot bear that thou should'st know / Sorrow I do not share with thee."

— Letitia Elizabeth Landon, from 'Six Songs of Love, Constancy, Romance, Inconstancy, Truth, and Marriage'

"That first night, in the unsteady single bed, I lay awake while you slept. I was listening to the unfamiliar noises, and thinking about the miracle of the most unfamiliar of them all – you breathing next to me."

— Jeanette Winterson, from 'Lighthousekeeping'

"It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another."

— Mary Shelley, from 'Frankenstein'

"To go to bed and to wake up again day after day besides a woman, to lie in bed with our arms around each other and drift in and out of sleep, to be with each other—not as a quick stolen pleasure, nor as a wild treat—but like sunlight, day after day in the regular course of our lives. I was discovering all the ways that love creeps into life when two selves exist closely, when two women meet."

— Audre Lorde, from 'Zami: A New Spelling of My Name'

"What else could make me completely happy but just—our being here together like this. You and I. A few feet of space between us, that’s all! [...] When two people make their own world there is something rather magical about it, don’t you think?"

— Tennessee Williams, The Magic Tower and Other One-Act Plays; from 'The Magic Tower'

"I hand you my universe and you live me / It is you whom I love today. / = I love you with all my loves / I’ll give you the forest with a little house in it with all the good things there are in my construction, you’ll live joyfully - I want you to live joyfully."

— Frida Kahlo, from 'The Diary of Frida Kahlo', tr. Barbara Crow de Toledo & Ricardo Pohlenz

"These days I can see us clinging to each other / as we are swept along by the current / I am clinging to you to keep you from / being swept away and you are clinging to me / we see the shores blurring past as we hold / each other in the rushing current / the daylight rushes unheard far above us / how long will we be swept along in the daylight / how long will we cling together in the night / and where will it carry us together"

— W. S. Merwin, 'Here Together'

[gallivantingheart]

eau de vie

who?: god!jeonghan x (f)reader

word count: 1586

genre/s: modern gods!au

warnings: mentions of alcohol

synopsis: “how long do you plan on staying?” // “until i figure you out.”

a/n: look! a new fic! a new...jeonghan fic, what a surprise. what’s next - pigs flying? also, if you want, listen along here

You aren’t a party goer - at least not ones like this. The wild ones that end in slippery memories and sticky shoes and shattered glass. You were more about house parties with semi casual attire where the most that would happen is fight down the side of the house, a lightweight puking their guts in the prized petunias and maybe one explicit romp in the wrong room.

But tonight you weren’t feeling tame or casual. The tumbling combo of end of year and a nasty breakdown of a relationship left you needing some kind of break away.

Shimmied into your most alluring outfit you could find, a friend on each arm, A swirling neon sign lighting your way. Eau De Vie.

Joy simultaneously coos and screws her nose up at the dark pink-burgundy sign. The line stretches long and you lament your heels.

“Oooh, that’s a pretty fancy name for some club out east.” She says, her velvet mini skirt hugging her hips and thighs desperately.

Your ankle tips on the uneven pavement and the three of you burst out into hysterical giggles. Pressing yourselves against the wall, you shrug.

“I guess, but I’ve heard really good things about the place. They have an r&b room and a rooftop wine bar.”

Yeri perks up at the prospect of the r&b vibes, her short hair rolling with the breeze.

You team up with a few guys behind you - one brimming with energy named Chan, another with dark hair and mesmerizing eyes called Wonwoo and the last introducing himself as Soonyoung, a bleach blonde with a savage turn to his lips. You exchanged names and universities along with what you were all studying. Turns out Wonwoo had your communications lecturer last year and had the grace to give you pointers on them. The bouncer knew the three men though and waved you all in, shooting you a wink with his dimpled smirk. You didn't even have a chance to pay for entry as you’re swept in.

The vibe throws you off instantly. Oddly enough, as if you were dancing in a wine bottle. Dark purple and red lights and a vibration that hums through you. It was different to the beat that thrums from the speakers and through the floor. It felt like a different frequency, radiating through your bloodstream. As you look between your friends though, it seems you’re the only one who feels it as they beam and wonder, dragging you toward the bar. You order some kind of cocktail - Cranberry Sunset - in a swirling orange and cranberry. The straw is quirky enough to loop and twirl in neon pink, an umbrella balanced in the ice. Yeri squeals at the sound of a Beyoncé remix, dragging Joy out before she has a chance to order and you laugh as they spin and sway into the fray of the dance floor.

The more you watch and swing your hips absently to the playlist, the more things seem to tip and turn. The feminine figures look a little manic, the lights shining in the whites of their eyes and glinting off their teeth like something feral. Yeri appears suddenly, sweat beading along her hairline and dripping down her neck. She grips your hand tight enough for her fake nails to dig in.

“Come! Dance! It’s fun!” She yells.

You laugh and resist. “I’m g-good!”

Her brow creases - she knows what you’re thinking about - Jaehyun’s smiles and the pastel striped over shirts that made him look like he was always on holiday. “Damn Jaehyun! He’s done! Come - Dance.”

You relent with a smile and let her yank you into the throng of melting bodies.

You feel that vibration again as Joy laughs low and fixes her hands to your hips to guide your sway - you never had the best coordination.

“You’re hot!” She yells in your ear. “Act like it!”

The combo of your friends and the electric hum that ripples is just enough to let your hair down. Let go, you think you hear in a whisper behind your ear.

Song after song - some you sing along to so loud it scrapes against your throat, others hypnotic enough that it has you writhing so close to Yeri that you could see your reflection in her eyes and her breath on your cheek. But something is still a little off. You can’t quite lose yourself like everyone else, something manic in the way the crowd moves that scares you. The heady scent of spilled wine permeates the air, as if it’s stuck to your shoes or spilled on your clothes, strange but far more favourable than the expected ten different layers of sweat.

You manage to slip away from your friends to wade through to a sparsely populated bar. Turning you find most of the club goers on the dancefloor behind you, some kind of murmur beginning amongst them - someone probably just fell over. Breathless, you ask for a vodka and raspberry and something with a bit of fizz thrown in. Even the bartender looks surprised to see you - his dark doe eyes glowing with the purple lighting that surrounds him, shadowed by his long, long lashes. As you turn to rest on a barstool a pair of weights seems to rest between your bare shoulder blades, someone’s eyes on you. Thinking about it now, it’s been there for a while. You make a slow turn, chewing on your straw. Midway down the bar is the brightest sight you’ve seen all night. 

A young man in a black blazer and striped shirt, a little too formal for the chaotic dance club. His silvery hair catches the lights, bouncing it like a fractured halo. His eyes would be bottomless if he wasn’t wearing black already. Even though you’ve caught him he doesn’t break his gaze or shy away from your surveying sight. Instead he reclines against the counter top and leisurely lifts his shot of soju to his pink lips - only then does he turn away politely to tip it back. You swear it’s not magnetism that pulls you over, more curiosity at this man’s blatant stare.

A loud, obnoxious suck of your straw against ice and then, “can I help you?”

He shrugs. “No, no. We’re good.”

You take another sip and give him a skeptical up and down glance. His shoes even look too shiny. The scent of wine gets thicker the longer you stand near him until it feels like every breath is merlot on your tongue.

“Not many come for a second drink. We’re well known for our playlists here, thanks to Vernon.” He draws your gaze up to the DJ with a sharp jawline and infectious grin, his fingers dancing over the sound system.

You heave a breath and your mind seems to click. You turn back, gaping, your drink all but forgotten.

“I - you own this place?” You murmur.

You’re a little too shocked to voice it much louder, but from the smirk that turns his pretty mouth you’re sure he’s seen the penny drop. Now that you’re closer, you see that the striped shirt is thin and willowy, part of it curling up to wrap in a choker over his throat. There is a hint of shimmer that dances over his high points, a cool pearly silver. The contrasting elements of him are giving you whiplash.

“Yeah, I do.”

You state your name in respectful bewilderment. “And you?”

You hold your hand out to shake his but blink and laugh at your sober silliness - who shakes hands in a nightclub? The silver haired man giggles at the way you fold your hands in your lap, but says nothing of your propriety.

“Depends.” He shrugs again, twisting with all the grace of a dancer to pour two shots.

“On what?” You screw your nose up.

He hands you the glass and you gasp. As it passes from your fingers to his, you watch as it swirls from clear to a rich red. It’s the same shade as his eyes. The vibration that’s been unsettled in you all night seems to harmonize with something you can’t make out and you can finally breathe.

“How long you plan on staying.” He answers.

The drink stains his lips like food dye in a violent smear of crimson. It doesn’t scare you as you sling your own drink back.

“Until I figure you out.” You argue.

He laughs, properly this time, his body swaying with the sound. It drowns out the set Vernon is playing, even with a speaker a few stools away. The owner eyes you, eyes glowing. His fingertips lay achingly close to yours on the dark counter top, taunting you.

“Most call me Jeonghan.” His voice is high, the tone unfinished.

You purse your lips and roll your eyes. Despite your curiosity, you never had much patience for cat and mouse games. Nor the brain power for riddles.

“Okay. Jeonghan.” You huff.

Jeonghan shakes his head and moves towards you for the first time, closing most of the space. The air stills and you give in, laying your hand over his and turning it to fidget with his narrow fingers. He breaks his gaze for a moment to watch the motion and everything feels too slow, the world slanted sideways. You hear everything and nothing. Clear and muted.

“No. Dionysus.” He corrects you finally.

You can finally tell where the other hum is coming from - him.

You frown. “Like...the god?”

Dionysus grins.

[lovenona]

AVE MARIA.

contains: a crumb of explicit smut, praise, body worship, infidelity (reader cheats on her crusty husband), oral (f! receiving), mirror sex, italian renaissance au, catholicism, lots of sacrilegious themes, cisfem! reader, sweet and soft vibes ahead

based on this drabble.

––––

(florence, italy, the year of our lord 1485. the city sits at the center of the universe. with her dense, winding streets and her ethereal architecture and her aspiring masters loitering on every corner, florence is a city that does not listen, but speaks. she is where the sun rises and sets, where the gods find their inspiration.)

you presumed that florence would hold your heart, always. but when you first heard him refer to you and the blessed mother in the same sentence – that’s when you knew. 

and later, when he looked at you like you were a deity come down from the heavens to baptize him alone – you knew then too. 

you understood, instinctively, always, that you would follow nanami kento to the end of the world, no matter the price. 

you always considered yourself luckier than some. you hailed from a respected family; you married rich and powerful and strong. your own husband frequently sat at the table of lorenzo de medici and drank his wine and caressed his lovers. each morning you wore beautiful, fine fabrics, and at breakfast you browsed frantic letters from the esteemed jewelers of venice who begged you to wear their craft. better still, you played the darling hostess of one of the finest houses in florence, guiding mindless housewives through your flourishing courtyard with ease and grace and fertility. 

and on sundays – oh, sundays! you sat, poised and perfect, in the front pews of the florence cathedral, where all eyes watched you in envy: even god. 

perhaps you were luckier than some. and yet. 

and yet, still, when you studied yourself in the looking glass, you found you were empty inside, a hollow vessel, waiting in vain for something to fill you up and give you purpose and meaning. you were vapid and beautiful. you were not sure what you were supposed to be.

how could you? your husband never looked at you unless you were underneath him like a dog. your little circle of friends did not care an ounce about the literature and philosophy you read. and the strangers in rags carrying baskets and babies on the streets simply asked you to pray for them, to care for them, for you to put in a word to your husband about them. 

perhaps you were luckier than some. but luck did not mean substance, did not mean feeling. you knew this better than anyone. 

so you retreated into yourself, studied philosophy and gazed at florence’s greatest artwork and wondered what it would mean to be aphrodite or mary or zeus: what it would mean to matter to something. would it would mean to be seen. 

(but nanami saw you – every inch, every crevice, every pore. he saw through you with the sharp gaze of the artist who knows exactly what he is looking for.)

the name nanami kento was no stranger to you. it was a sacred name, a revered name, whispered in tandem with giotto and ghiberti and and donatello. an artist from across the sea, he was florence’s greatest celebrity, a shining beacon that reflected the essence of the renaissance, the essence of florence’s great and powerful mind. even before his arrival, rumors circulated that back in rome the pope had commissioned him a project so vast and detailed it had taken the first eight years of nanami’s career to complete it. 

so when nanami kento finally came to florence, the city was aflame. 

nanami sculpted marble; he coaxed life from dirt, turned stone into feeling. many remarked that they had wept openly at the feet of his tragic pieta, that they would be more than willing to sell their children and their horses and their homes for him to craft them but one piece of heaven. nanami kento, with the grace and easiness of earth and water, created life where there was none. nanami kento, for all his stoic demeanor, knew how to make his audience tremble.

nanami kento was a talented sculptor, yes: but he was more notorious, still, for refusing many of his desperate patrons. he did not need money, the rumors said, because the pope had paid him enough florins to last a hundred lifetimes or more. he did not need the excess money, the rumors said, because he was a man who would always feel he had enough. nanami kento was a sculptor in high demand. he could pick and choose at will, and he exercised this privilege freely.  

but your husband, proud man he was, fearlessly captured nanami in his silver-tongued claws. we need more artwork, he’d told you in bed one night, voice thick with drink and the orgasm he had coaxed from himself but not from you. our house looks too bare – that da vinci painting in the dining room just isn’t enough. imagine if we secured nanami, who turned down the medicis? we’d be the talk of florence. it enthralled him, then, the idea of being one of the few families in all of florence who could secure nanami’s trust, who could secure his godly talent like a bird in a cage.  

you never found out what your husband had told him. one morning you simply woke to find the servants preparing nanami a room in the south wing of the house, to find servants with heavy blocks of marble in tow, to find servants moving tables and supplies into what your husband proudly called the greatest art studio in florence.

(your husband was a patron to many famous artists, and never had he allowed them to work in his own home. you wondered just what it was that made nanami so different. you wondered just how much you cared to know.) 

and then, when he arrived, your axis shifted. 

nanami kento was, to put it simply, the most beautiful man in the universe: golden hair that mimicked sunlight, a sharp and solemn jaw, a steady demeanor, a pair of intimidating eyes. he walked through your halls with the ease of someone who understood himself, of someone did not question who he was or what he was meant to be. he was not hollow inside, but cool and contemplative and knowing. 

he reminded you of the stories your father used to tell about the construction of the florence cathedral. your father – younger, then, and leaner – used to stand below the cathedral, watching in awe as the men placed the bricks that formed the dome, waiting with baited breath for the dome to collapse on itself. and it never did, he told you, because the foundation was solid, because its architect, brunelleschi, had god’s own genius. 

nanami, too, carried the confidence of one who knew he would never collapse.

he did not laugh at your husband’s table. he did not smile at the jokes, at the meal, at you. he maintained a cold composure that mimicked the stone he worked with, spoke in clipped sentences that never wavered. nanami did not ask questions: he supplied only answers. you did not know if you liked him, then, but it was the aura of security enveloping his being that kept you asking for more. 

nanami kento was, bluntly, a block of marble, and you were desperate to discover what was underneath. 

so when he arrived the next morning, you shamelessly begged to watch him at work, claiming that you had unrealized artistic passions and that your health made it difficult to work. a lie, of course, but when you begged and begged and said your husband would not care, nanami kento let you in, dusty and slow. 

nanami explained, plainly, that your husband had commissioned a sculpture of judith slaying holofernes. to protect the house, perhaps, and to preserve the sanctity of florence. you listened with half an ear: your husband did not want another judith to proclaim his florentine patriotism. he only wanted to rival the medicis with their precious little donatello. 

(an ugly rendition of judith, if you did say so yourself.)

and of course, you didn’t care about the artistic process, not when sweat broke out in a glorious sheen across nanami’s forehead in the late afternoon heat. not when his biceps flexed beneath the light shirt he wore, when his nimble fingers dusted away the imperfections on the stone. certainly not when he bit his lip in intense concentration, hard and studious but never enough to draw blood. you never cared, not when he tilted his head back after you graciously handed him refreshments, adam’s apple bobbing in sway with your heartbeat. 

you could have watched him the rest of your life. you could have eternalized him in stone.

why don’t you become a painter? you asked him, once, as he studied the block of marble from across the room, still and stiff and confident and cold. 

painting is not sculpting, nanami had responded, crisply, steadily. he always came prepared with answers; he never paused to think. when you paint, you create. but when you sculpt, you coax forward a life that was already there, latent and waiting.

he looked in your eyes, then. and you knew. it was like he saw through you: like he knew you had treasure inside.

after four weeks of your incessant curiosities, four weeks of small talk and curious conversation, nanami began to arrive each morning with fresh loaves of bread for the kitchen staff and bouquets of flowers that he would place in a jar before he began his work. and as he sat alone in the studio during the early morning hours, even he began to pray, plainly, that you would arrive in the doorway, eyes glistening with sleep, begging to watch him sculpt. 

(he returned your gaze, now, studying with seeming indifference the way your dress shifted when you walked and the way your eyes crinkled when you asked him about rome.)

you danced around each other like clockwork, with the predictable grace of earth and stone. he pretended he did not care: you knew, hopelessly, that he did. 

nanami told your husband nothing about these swift developments. he told himself that he was a responsible man who would live and die alone. he told himself that he simply enjoyed the silence of your company. that he would, and could, defy his budding feelings towards you. 

and then, finally, on a still morning when from the marble judith’s head began to emerge, he told you that you had a face worth recreating. 

judith has a strong face, a face that displays vigor, conviction, confidence, nanami explained to you, cradling the smooth marble beneath his thumbs. judith may be a widow, but she has been gifted by god the strength to save her people from destruction. there is delicacy in that faith, a power in that action. there are not many women in florence with such a face. 

you complained, then, that he should not sell the women of florence so short. 

you have the face, he admitted simply, as if you should have known all along. you contain multitudes. 

and so you stepped closer, wanting. and nanami did not look away. for to create judith, a face with your face, it would have been in bad practice for an artist as careful as nanami not to memorize the curve of your cheeks, the shape of your nose, the taste of your eager lips. it would have been in bad practice not to learn you entirely, to take your aura and transcribe it onto the stars. 

(nanami kento took his jobs more seriously than religion or love or money. and he would not, could not, leave this one behind.)

and so it hung in the air, festering, like an open secret. every morning, nanami silently brought you flowers. you watched, all day, as judith face’s – now becoming your face – emerged from the stone. and in return, nanami watched you, with unwavering discipline, as you roamed your cold halls, took your husband’s criticism like a martyr, traveled to and from the cathedral on sundays with the hollow faith of a perfect ghost. 

and in the evening, when nanami returned to his own home, you waved him off with dutiful grace. and with every goodbye, nanami held your blooming knuckles to his lips for a moment longer. and with every delicate kiss, you became less hollow, and more real. 

so you circled each other, doves in the night, prayers whispered in shadow with the fear of no reply. 

until you caved and kissed him first, on a warm afternoon sickly sweet with the smell of cakes and lemons and tarts wafting from somewhere far within. and you knew then, too, that you would damn yourself to hell with invigorating enthusiasm if it meant you could kiss him again. 

nanami kento, unwavering, steady, kissed you back, and it was like finally coming home. 

nanami kento worked with unwavering precision. and to craft his judith in your image, he declared with finality that he needed to know your face like the back of his hand. and he said it with such seriousness, too, that you did not doubt that he planned to map every kiss to memory, that his tongue would not, could not, forget the curve of your mouth and the sharpness of your teeth. 

your face, nanami admitted, it contains multitudes. it reflects your soul – you are so much, so beautiful. to forget this face would be a crime.

he did not understand what it was your husband could not love. in a world of science and philosophy and understanding, as a man of considerable routine and clearheadedness, nanami did not see what it was your husband could not appreciate. did he not know? did he not see that your face was a forever-face? that your eyes made art just by blinking?

he doesn’t pay attention, you’d said, bitter and angry. he never knows me. you bit your lip when you confessed it, eyes scanning anywhere else in the room. 

beautiful, nanami repeated, losing composure, unwinding. you are immaculate. i would sculpt you forever. he did not doubt himself, so neither did you. because if nanami kento said you were whole and beautiful and seen, you would be a fool not to believe him. 

on sunny afternoons when your husband was away, nanami made love to you on his workbench with the delicacy of a humble believer bowing at the foot of the altar. stern and steady, with the overwhelming adoration of the devout, he placed a kiss on every part of your skin. your eyelids, for their clarity: your neck, for its fortitude: your stomach, for its strength: your fingers, for their delicacy. 

your husband’s uncaring touch scarred you, burned you; but nanami’s hands, like sculpting marble, coaxed you to life with the confidence of one who knows he will never falter. he worshipped the ground you walked on with faultless logic, drowning in faith.

nanami favored kissing your thighs, tracing the pattern of your hips, the swell of your breasts. he liked to hear you beg for him, too, in that silver voice of yours, sweet and precious like a choirs of angels. when you begged for him to fill you with those vulnerably glassy eyes, nanami became the center of the universe, and he could never deny you such pleasure. he could never, not once, say no.

he enjoyed, too, even more than the begging, the roses that bled from your eyes and the sugar in your heart when he praised you. he did not know, before, that there could be a sight as heavenly as your dilated, unfocused pupils and your messy smile when he told you how you were beautiful, my love. so good for me. he did not know there could be something so intimate, so profound, as your love when he loved you completely. 

(even more than your looks, he loved how you felt, clamping down with vigor while running nails down his back. it grounded him, and you. but he would never say it.) 

after eating his lunch, nanami would diligently eat you with a swift precision so terrifying that it brought you to the edge before you knew it had begun. he would place you on the table, push away your skirts, and dive in, as if you were a holy communion he could not afford to lose. he coaxed orgasms from you the way he coaxed masterpieces from marble: easily. 

and if the house staff heard your cries, you wouldn’t know, because to be with nanami kento, his nose shiny with you, made your blood pound in your ears. 

then, later, nanami would hang his rosary with hunger and piety around your neck before he pressed into you, claiming that you were the most blessed of the saints, that he was overjoyed to pray at your altar, that you had the face of god and a heart as pure. and he would watch, transfixed, as the crucifix bounced between your tits, as christ himself became voyeur to the party. 

you wondered, briefly, if during your weekly confessions the cathedral priests would simply know the way you had willingly called nanami god when he fucked you this well, the way nanami would make you lick your own slick off his fingers with docile obedience before pressing your quivering fingers to the rosary beads. but then nanami would go harder, deeper, grunting profanities into your ear, and you realized with bliss that you did not care. 

for how could this be wrong when it felt so immaculate? how could you deny yourself nanami’s love when it made you feel so whole? 

and when he felt strict, on days his sculpture annoyed him, nanami would ask you with his stern tongue to pray the hail mary while he viciously kissed your folds, knowing full well your sanity had already left you. he took pride in reprimanding you sharply on those days, a swift hand across your ass or your cunt when you could not remember the our father as he expertly located all of the sweetest places that made you scream most.

if anyone had asked, nanami would have told them he was a religious man: if, of course, the idol was you. 

look at you, blessed saint, he growled into your ear, once, peering over your shoulder, hands firm and bruising in your hair and on your hips. mary magdalene, whore for christ. he forced you, then, to watch yourself in the studio mirror propped against the wall as he thrust roughly from behind, as your face contorted in an unspeakable pleasure: or, as nanami would say, art in its purest form.

nanami kento took his job more seriously than god. a diligent worker, he was, and god be damned if he did not make your knees week and your brain tremble before the late afternoon sun. he would be damned if he did not make eternal artwork out of you, if he did not sculpt the shape of your moans or memorize the way your nails scratched scripture onto his bare skin. if he did not eternalize the fucked-out look in your eyes. if he did not let the universe know you were a sight to behold, a sight that could not be forgotten.

you didn’t bother apologizing to god for your behavior. not when god was tall and blonde and could fold your knees into your chest and fuck you until you saw heaven for yourself. you didn’t bother apologizing because nanami kento made you feel seen and real and meaningful: and that was not something you could regret. 

and so the judith stretched into incompletion. and so, nanami would explain to your husband, it is quite difficult to get the nose and eyes just right. it takes time to create the dynamism necessary for seven feet of judith slaying holofernes. you must understand. perhaps within the next year.

your husband was greedy for attention. of course he understood. 

and he never questioned it, not once, when judith would sit for days on end without completion. he would not question it, because he was never home when nanami fucked you with the rosary pressed against your throat, when nanami carved the shape and sensation of his being into your skin. your husband was never home when you opened the windows to air out the smell of sweat and sex, when you dressed yourself with a lazy disposition and a soft smile and a rose-covered glow. he did not see the way nanami spoke with you, the way nanami kento saw you as a person and not a thing. he did not know. he never would. 

and your husband learned not to ask when one month turned five and a year had passed and still, still, the finishing touches were not yet completed. 

a masterpiece takes time, nanami repeated. i spent eight years on one commission in the vatican city. 

your husband, grand and desperate to be better than lorenzo de medici, obliged. and so nanami took his time and yours, onwards and onwards. 

one night, then, as the judith commission truly came to a close, nanami told your husband over dinner, if you want more, i will give you more, as repentance for taking so long. a sculpture of the virgin mary, perhaps? 

nanami gazed at you in subtle adoration from across the table, already shaping you into eternity with his eyes, placing the veil over your head and the blessed christ in your arms. your husband agreed, of course, because he could only see victory. 

and the butterflies bloomed in your chest, a champagne knowledge that you would be seen, that nanami would see you, know you, memorize you. and when you returned his gaze, hungry, you knew, instinctively, always, that you would follow nanami kento to the end of the world, whatever the price. 

(and you did. and you do, still, in your many marble faces that catch the sun.) 

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

plastic smile

Pairings - dark Charles Blackwood x Reader

Word Count - over 4.7k

warnings - oral (f and m receiving), major character manipulation

A/N - huge thanks to @buckyownsmylife @bestofbucky and @supremethunda for beta reading this. Thanks also to @eurynome827 for helping me to choose the gif. The poem in this is by Vinicius de Moraes and might be one of the most beautiful things I've read. As usual this is 18+ only so please don’t interact if you are a minor

It had been a long day at the diner and you only started two hours ago, your usuals were the only thing getting you through it. You lived in a small town where everyone knew everyone so when the red sports car arrived that morning it’s all anyone could talk about.

Charles Blackwood walked into the diner and sat at the counter like he owned the place, his aura was the kind that everyone was drawn to; he was domineering and confident but friendly. You turned his coffee cup over and filled it up with the dark liquid. “Can I get you anything to eat today?” Smiling at him as he looks over the menu, you observe his features; strong jawline, soft curly hair, thick pouty lips and large uncalloused hands.

It takes you a moment to realise he’s asking you for pancakes, you blush and smile sweetly writing his order down and passing it back to the kitchen. Earl, one of your favourite regulars, asks for a refill, beckoning you over. “You be careful with him, don’t go getting any thoughts. He’s a Blackwood,” he tells you in warning.

The Blackwoods were almost an urban myth in the town, you only ever saw Merricat once a week and never her sister since the ‘incident’. The whole town was terrified of them, people always fear what they don’t understand. You however, thought they must be lonely and always tried to make an effort to speak to Merricat when she came in for her drink. Sure, she was a little odd but she was always polite and never forgot to thank you before she left, you always thought some of your other customers could learn a thing or two from her.

Passing Charles his pancakes, you catch your breath when he looks up at you with those big, blue eyes of his and smiles at you, grabbing your hand to ask you to stay. You stood chatting while the diner was emptying, feeling butterflies at how attentive he was, he asked you so many questions about yourself and actually listened to the answers. After finishing his third cup he pays, leaving you a hefty tip, and winks saying he’ll see you again tomorrow.

Watching him drive past in his flashy car, you can’t help but wonder why on earth he spent so much time getting to know you, you come from very different worlds. Wiping the countertop down and finishing up, you grab your bag and shout through to the kitchen, letting them know they’ll see you tomorrow.

Everyone around town seems to be talking about the Blackwoods today, you go to the library and hear Mrs Conners talking on the phone with goodness knows who about how Charles has come back, you then go to the park to sit and read when you hear two mothers gossiping while their children run around. You can’t understand the fuss but nothing ever happens in this tiny town, people talked for weeks when poor Sarah got flipped off her horse and broke her leg.

The next morning went the same as usual, you filled coffee cups, brought eggs and wiped down tables, that was until Charles came back and sat down in the same seat as the day before. He smiled at you and you held your fingers up to let him know you’d be right there, he grabbed a newspaper and read patiently refusing a drink from Barbara while he waited for you.

You flipped his cup round and poured him a coffee. “You know she has the same coffee as me,” you teased him, passing him the sugar and pulling your notepad out to take his order.

“Yeah but yours is so much sweeter,” he says, pushing the white crystals away and taking a sip of the bitter drink.

You try not to smile at the strange compliment but fail quite spectacularly when your mouth practically splits your face in half. “I’ll go and order your breakfast Mr Blackwood”.

Turning to add his ticket to the wheel. “It’s Charles.” You look back at him curiously.

“I’m sorry what was that?” You walk back over to him.

“You can call me Charles darling, Mr Blackwood is too formal. That’s my fathers name so please call me Charles.” He stares at you as though he’s staring through your soul, you lean forward and flip the paper over, grabbing your pen and passing it to him.

“I’m stuck on 10 down.” Pointing at the half finished crossword puzzle.

The diner has emptied again and you’re sitting laughing with Charles while you wait for the lunch crowd to show up, he is cute and funny, nothing like the other guys in town, the butterflies never really go away when he’s around you.

After your lunch shift, you grab your book so you can go and read in the park again when you see him across the street, leaning against the car. “Wanna go for a drive?” He opens the passenger door and gestures for you to take a seat, you don’t even think about it before skipping over and climbing in.

“So darling, tell me where you want to go,” he asks, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it. You almost melt into the seat, not able to speak for a moment before clearing your throat and pointing him in the direction of the beach on the outskirts of town. You talk for hours, you tell him about how your parents both died a few years ago, how you’re trying to save up enough money to move to the city and how you’re trying to write a book.

He’s such a good listener, you feel like you’ve talked for hours about yourself, which is refreshing because usually you’re the one people talk to. You could charge an hourly rate in that diner, listening to people’s troubles. He smiles that big beautiful smile at you and leans in to kiss you, it’s soft but demanding, grabbing the back of your head to deepen it, you moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue in and strokes the top of your mouth.

Pulling back and rubbing his nose against yours, he looks down at you. “You’re so beautiful, I could just keep you forever.” Blushing at the cute compliment, you hide your face in the crook of his neck. He gives you a moment before tipping your chin up with two fingers and staring into your eyes. “I can’t believe one little compliment makes you so shy, you should be told everyday how precious you are my little dove.”

Dropping you back off at the diner for your evening shift, he waits for you to get through the door before waving goodbye and driving away. You float around on cloud nine for the whole shift and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by your boss, who has watched everything from the moment Charles first walked into the diner.

Calling you into his office, he asks you to take a seat. “Look, your private life is none of my business but please just be careful with him, he’s not what he seems. The whole Blackwood family is bad news.” You nod and smile at the elderly man who has always looked after you since your parents passed away. You respect him but he doesn’t know Charles very well, if everyone took the time to understand him better they’d see what a sweet person he was.

The end of your shift comes quickly and once again he waits across the street, leaning against his car and smiling at you. “Need a ride home?” You walk across to him and throw your arms around his neck. “Oh, someone is happy to see me,” he chuckles and kisses the top of your head.

Directing him to your house, he drives with one arm wrapped around your shoulder, running his fingers over your neck gently, setting your whole body on fire. Such a soft, gentle touch and you’re already absolutely desperate for him. Pulling up to the front of your little cottage, he switches the engine off and pulls your face up for another deep, soul clenching kiss. Leaning back you look at him bashfully. “Would you like to come in for a coffee?” He nods and kisses your forehead softly before telling you to stay put, running around the side of the car, he opens the door and holds out his hand to help you out.

You show him around before going to the kitchen and making coffee, taking out your best mugs, most of your kitchen stuff comes from the diner, and grabbing some snacks. You’re just leaning up to pick something out of the cabinet when you feel him pressed up against your back, he grabs the packet you were reaching for and sets it down on the counter. “It’s almost like I’m made to be here, looking after my little dove,” he whispers in your ear before planting soft kisses down your neck.

You breathe out softly as he takes his time finding all of your sensitive spots before turning you and holding your head in his big hands and desperately kissing you. Grabbing your ass, he picks you up and sits you on the counter. “Can I touch you?” He smiles as you nod quickly, moving your skirt up slowly, teasing you. You’re practically begging him by the time he pulls your ruined underwear down, he looks at them and sniffs the wet patch smirking at your embarrassment. “Looks like someone is needy”.

Shutting your eyes, you’ve never felt so absolutely mortified before, but he grabs your chin. “Look at me.” You slowly stare at his face as he grabs your hand and puts it on his hard cock. “Don’t be embarrassed, I want you just as much.” Holding your panties up he smirks. “These are mine now though.” Pushing them into his back pocket he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and kisses around your thighs, tracing a line closer and closer to your wet folds.

You’ve read about this before but no man has ever done it to you and you’d never ask. His tongue is so firm and warm, he knows exactly what to do with it and you feel a new sensation slowly building inside you. He sucks on your clit and pushes what feels like two fingers into your tight wet hole, angling them up, setting your whole body on fire. You moan out loud and grab his thick hair, holding him right in place as you explode, moaning out his name, your voice echoing around your small kitchen.

Pulling your skirt back down to cover you up, he licks his lips and sucks his fingers clean while you catch your breath. “I’ve never tasted anything better before.” Your cheeks warm up again and are about to look away when he softly grabs your face, running his thumb over your lips and jawline. “You are so precious, don’t let anyone tell you any different. I’m going to go now, you need some sleep. I’ll come by in the morning and drive you to work”. You see him out and get cleaned up, pulling the blankets up, you don’t need to read to help yourself fall asleep tonight. You still feel like you’re floating.

You and Charles have been inseparable for the last month, he pretty much lived at your place so you could see more of each other. Every morning he’d wake you up with gentle kisses and touches that set your body on fire, he was so attentive driving you to work and taking your books back to the library when they were due, sitting in the diner doing the crossword puzzle while you work.

It was the best month of your life, so that weekend, when he got down on one knee to propose, you didn’t hesitate in saying yes, sliding his grandma's ring onto your finger, you made love that night and he made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

The next day, you wake up and see a white dress hanging from your wardrobe door, confused you go downstairs to find Charles and see him preparing breakfast for you. Eggs, coffee, orange juice and a flower in a glass just for you, walking up behind him you wrap your arms around his waist and kiss the freckle between his shoulder blades. “Is all this for me?” He turns around in your arms and kisses the top of your head.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up yet, I wanted to surprise my beautiful fiancé.” You kiss his lips and smile running back up the stairs and jumping into bed.

Following you up a few minutes later, he places the tray over your lap. “I have a proposal for you”. You slowly drink the bitter coffee and try not to let your disgust show on your face, he’s clearly never made coffee before but somehow that makes him even cuter to you, now you get to look after him forever.

“Let's go down to the courthouse and get married today, I don’t want to wait another minute to make you mine forever.” It was too soon, you know that, but the look on his face was so cute, you didn't want to hurt his feelings so you agreed, almost crying at the look of happiness on his face. “I found this dress in your closet, it's perfect, you’ll look like my own personal angel.” That was it, that's all it took, your own personal kaleidoscope of butterflies flew around your body. You were so happy you could almost cry.

After breakfast and a little bit of fun, he ran out to get a haircut and grab a few things for the ceremony. You got dressed and pinned your hair up in a simple style. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you felt sad that you didn’t have any family to be with you, you didn’t really have any friends either but you did have Charles and honestly that's all you wanted. Writing down a poem you wanted to say to him after your vows, you tucked it into the hidden pocket on the side of your dress and smiled when you heard the car pull up.

Charles walked in and looked at you like you hung the stars in your soft cotton dress, he passed a small hand tied bouquet of pink roses to you, smiling at how happy you were. “I got us an appointment with the judge, can you be ready in 15 minutes?” You looked in the mirror and nodded, picking up a lipstick to match your bouquet, you swiped it on and went to find your future husband.

An hour later you had said your vows, Charles was smiling so wide when you recited yours, squeezing your hand when you said honour and obey. The judge looked at you and you pulled out the poem, dropping Charles’ hands for a moment before you began;

I know that I’ll love you

My whole life through, I know that I’ll love you

At every farewell I will love you

With desperation I know I’ll love you.

And every verse i write will be my chance to say

I know that i'll love, love you my whole life through.

I know I’m going to cry,

Whenever you’re not here I’m going to cry.

But each time you return will make up for

The loss I felt when you weren’t at my side.

I know I’ll have to bear

A never ending feeling of despair

While waiting for this chance to be with you,

With you my whole life through

A tear rolled down your cheek and Charles wiped it away with his thumb. The judge pronounced you husband and wife and you kissed, his tongue softly caressing yours before he rubbed his nose across yours, your own secret love language.

Climbing into his car, Charles looks over at you smiling. “Shall we go to the diner now so you can quit?” Turning your whole body to look at him, he smiles that big grin that makes you melt. “I’m your husband now, I’ll take care of everything and you will take care of me and our children. I can't wait until you’re swollen with our children,” he says while rubbing your stomach. “You want that, don’t you my little dove? You want to honour and obey me.” Nodding, you turn back and look out the window at the passing scenery.

He stops outside the diner. “You’ve got ten minutes to grab your shit, don’t take all day.” Your stomach drops at the tone in his voice, you can’t think of what you’ve done to upset him but you want your happy and loving Charles back. Gathering your things, your boss tells you he’ll always have a space for you and not to be a stranger, he watches as you cross the street and climb into the car.

You slide up to him like you usually do but he pushes you away. “I’m driving, sit over there” the rejection stings but it makes sense he needs to be safe especially when driving. You sit and play with the roses he got you earlier, sniffing them and smiling at the sweet gesture, in no time at all you’re back at the cottage and he storms off into the house without even waiting for you. Your stomach drops, you must have upset him but you can’t think how or when, you walk into your house and call out for him wanting to apologise and fix whatever happened.

He’s in the bedroom sitting on the bed waiting for you “hey there little dove, come over here, it’s our wedding night don’t you want to make your husband happy?” Nodding you walk over to him and move to kiss him but he pushes you back and opens his legs “kneel down for me” pushing your shoulder down with force your knees hit the floor and you wince at the sharp pain. Undoing his belt and pulling his cock out he gently grabs your hair and pulls you over “make me feel good, be a good wife for me” you nod, licking and kissing his length before sucking the tip into your mouth.

He moans out and the fist in your hair tightens as he pushes you further down, choking you and bringing tears to your eyes. You slap his thighs to get him to ease up but he thrusts up into your mouth even more and groans out before spilling down your throat. Pushing your head back you stumble backwards and hit the floor “mmmm well done” he says lifting you up and sitting you in his lap. “How about you go and make us some dinner and I’ll clean up your mess in here?” He says as he kisses your neck, nibbling on the spot that he knows makes you putty in his hands, you stand up and he slaps your ass making you jump “make something nice for me and fix your hair it's a mess”

A few hours later you’re sitting reading on the sofa when the phone rings, Charles jumps up to grab it and grins a kind of smile you’ve never seen before. Staring at him as he sits back down he looks over at you and smiles “Constance has invited us over for dinner, she must have heard our happy news. It's all coming together my little dove, I’m going to be so rich I won’t have to talk to anyone in the family ever again and people will respect me all across the city”. You look at him confused “what do you mean? You’ll be rich?” But he just ignores your questions and reads the paper.

You wake up the next morning and find a dress hanging up waiting for you, sliding your feet into your slippers you go downstairs to find Charles sitting waiting at the dining table “finally you’re awake, I’ve waited for hours for you. I’m absolutely starving” grabbing the eggs and bread you look at him sitting reading his newspaper, he hadn’t even made himself a coffee. “I need you to look nice for Constance, we need to make a good first impression” you nod your head and give him breakfast trying to kiss him on the cheek but he pulls away.

On the way to Blackwood manor you’ve already been told to be on your best behaviour and you feel tense, sensing your feeling Charles pulls you close and hugs you like he used to, kissing your head and squeezing your shoulders “I’m sorry darling I just want them to love you as much as I do, I didn’t mean to make you nervous” you relax into his side and smile feeling the little flutters in your stomach again.

Constance and Merricat welcome you into their home and congratulate you on your recent wedding “I’m sorry you weren’t there, we were just so excited to tie the knot” Charles says hugging you tight and smiling at his cousins. Merricat pulls you into the garden while Charles and Constance catch up “why aren’t you at the diner anymore?” She whispers, hoping Charles doesn’t hear her, you smile at her knowing she likes her routine “I’m sorry, Charles wants to take care of me so I don’t have to work anymore. We’ll be starting a family soon so I won’t have time for anything else” that’s not what she wants to hear so she storms into the house and barges past Charles while you call after her.

You help Constance prepare lunch and try to get to know her better but she seems to be wary of you, probably because of Merricats reaction earlier. “Charles can you open the wine for the table please” you ask, passing him the corkscrew and biting your lip when he winks at you and blows a kiss. “You two seem to be enamoured with each other” Constance observes as you smile to yourself, grabbing the plate of vegetables “Thankyou, we love each other very much, neither of us wanted to wait too long before making it official”. She nods her head and smiles “I wish we could have met before you married, I want to get to know my new cousin. Merricat speaks so fondly of you” she says as you both walk into the dining area

Merricat comes back for lunch sitting at the opposite end of the table from you all, sneering at everything Charles said. You could see he was getting more and more annoyed with her and you tried to diffuse it before something bad happened by constantly interjecting and getting her talking. Dessert is served and you all sit discussing the weather, which is the safest subject between you all, you’ve discovered, when Charles suddenly changes the subject. “So Constance you sent me a letter saying that I was entitled to some of the family money” you all look at him in shock but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Yes but there were some conditions Charles” she says softly trying not to make a scene. Exhaling a loud breath through his nose he starts “I needed a wife” he nods at you, your face burning with rage as you start to put the clues together. He continues “I need a home, I have that now. So where’s my money” you stare at him with tears in your eyes, before excusing yourself and going to the bathroom.

You take deep breaths to not let your panic take over. Trying to focus your mind on something you grip the edge of the sink and don’t hear him enter, until he leans over your body growling in your ear “don’t you dare fuck this up for me and I’ll make it worth your while”. Staring at each other in the mirror for a moment, the only way out of this is if you nod in agreement and follow him back to the table.

Merricat jumps up and sits by your side gripping your hand “are you ok?” You turn and smile at her nodding your head “I’m fine thankyou I just needed a little air” you take a sip of your wine and turn back to Charles glaring at him but he just smirks “I brought a duffel bag we can fill with my share, we can do it right now get it over and done with”.

Agreeing with him Constance takes him to the safe, leaving you and Merricat alone “you should leave him, he’s just using you” she says quickly and quietly. Shaking your head at her “now Merricat it’s not like that, he loves me he just shows it differently that’s all. He wants to start a family with me” you fake a smile and play with the ring on your left hand.

Once he has his money, Charles quickly makes excuses to leave, hurrying you out of the door with a hamper of food from the pantry, you wave at the sisters and smile as he drives away. Not attempting to get closer to him you sit in silence for the rest of the journey. Getting out before he’s even stopped the engine once you pull up at the cottage, slamming the door in his face and marching up to the bedroom to change.

He walks in a few moments later and picks you up pushing you against the wall, trapping you “listen to me, I needed a wife and you were an easy target. You fluttered your eyelashes the moment you set eyes on me, I knew I could get you exactly where I needed you, now I’m rich and I don’t need you anymore but I am willing to give you a couple of months wages to tide you over but you have to be a good fucking wife until I can get things sorted back home” you smile and nod at him “ok, that seems fair how long will you be here?” Raising a brow at how quickly you agree he contemplates his answer “about a week, maybe more” nodding again you push him back gently and move away from him “I’ll set up the guest bedroom for you, I would prefer it if you would sleep in there”.

He takes a deep breath and leaves the room watching you as he goes, as if he expects you to do something silly behind his back. He has no idea what’s about to happen and you’d almost feel sorry for him if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s a shitty person who deserves everything that's coming to him.

The next few days you play it cool, you want him to be relaxed around you and not raise any suspicion. You cook and clean and play the dutiful wife in all areas but the bedroom, not that he doesn’t try everyday, kissing your neck, rubbing your shoulders while you cook, even whispering filthy things in your ear like he used to but you always say no and turn him down.

Wednesday rolls around, nothing exciting ever happens on a Wednesday. Charles goes for his afternoon nap leaving you downstairs reading your book, you wait 20 minutes before hopping to action. Running to the pantry where he’s kept his duffel bag you quickly unzip it and check it’s all still there, satisfied he hasn’t moved anything you grab it and throw it in his car. Running back to the cupboard under the stairs you grab your suitcase, slip the note out of your book and place it on the end table next to his wallet.

Climbing into his car you start the engine and wait a moment to see if he wakes up, watching the window until you see him, there he is, his face burning with rage as he spots you. You blow him a kiss and speed off, laughing to yourself that you managed to fuck him over once and for all.

He runs downstairs hoping to catch up with you and screams when you’ve already gone, walking back into the house he spots the note you left him “Dear Charles, you were an easy target. Have a nice life”

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Monday 9 September 1833

7

10 50

up at 6 but lay on the bed an hour – finish hazy morning at both house – F60° at 7 a.m. breakfast at 8 ½ - had the valet de place, and Miss F- and I out at 9 40 – went to the fine old hotel de ville – exterior Gothic finely carved – the handsomest I ever saw except that at Ypres – the ground floor a sort of maison de foire – full of little shops – the 1er. a very fine old Gothic lofty room 105 by 18 paces of about 2ft. (good) – I should think quite 18 paces high – ceiling boarded over the beamlike joists, and painted (in stucco?) in the old fashioned way – the room divided by a wood screen 7 or 8ft. high, and on one side a richly carved staircase to a small room [?] off by rich oak carving – darkening the large room by taking off 2 or 3 of the side windows – large Gothic windows at the ends of the great room with painted glass as also had the window or 2 on each side the little chamber – the opposite side large old not valuable pictures – below the ground floor is the famous Rosenkeller (or cellier officinal, government wine cellar) for the Rhine and Moselle wines sold by the senate – some immense tonneaux – one (the largest) containing 120 hogsheads’ of wine – a great Bacchus astride of a ton, and turn left into the cave with the 12 apostles, i.e. 12 hogsheads of wine – got the prix courant – and bought a demi [?] of Johannisberg of the year 1783 for fifteen good groschen – then just across to the bourse – a good room perhaps about 25 yards long lighted on one side – then to the orphans’ house – 120 children – 61 beds for boys in one room – nearly as many for girls in another – heard them sing well – house pretty well kept – to the museum for which paid ½ thaler each for myself – several people there – and the ‘doctor’ explained all in German in spite of his saying he liked the English language e- the fact was he told nothing but the names of the things which were written on tickets affixed to each object, and we left him and looked about, and seeing nothing particular went away before his explanation was over – there was a pretty good collection of stuffed birds, and the head, in spirits, of a woman of Bremen hanged some time ago for poisoning 2 husbands and her children, and 2 servants – then to a doll shops for Miss F- came in at 12 50 – horses not ordered – paid all - off from the Lindenhofe [Lindenhof] the best house in Bremen (opposite the cathedral in the grande place) at 1 40 - had been comfortable enough - a good town of near 50,000 inhabitants - the land very low all about it - was all overflowed and the water came into the houses in 1827 - fortunate in having had nothing of the cholera that in consequence of that and the Dutch war all the trade came to Bremen but now the Dutch had opened the rivers again the trade of Bremen was not quite so good. – Left the town passing by the pretty walks and gardens along a good road (tho’ rough pavé) thro’ an avenue of pollarded poplars – stop at 2 ¾ to give the horses brown bread – the country all along sandy as in Holland about the mouth of the Rhine, and ditches and willows on each side the road, but well cultivated (i.e. made the most of) and as pretty and productive as so dead a flat can be – Ditch-fences planted with willows, alders and poplars as in Holland – fine day, but the air heavy and damp – a few oaks, and elms, and birches, and these with the Ditch-row wood, make the country look wooded – wherever no cultivation heather and turf, or sand-hills – a sitting room fire of wood all day at the hotel would cost me 12 good gr. a day – but the people of the town could have it for 8gr. – a great deal of turf burnt here – 2 or 3 large waggon loads of it for 10 thalers – have some coal from England – and wood and corn from Hanover by the Leine river in exchange for coffee and tobacco and train oil etc. (saw some coal in Hanover but it was more like bad kennel coal or scale than coal) – at 3 10 1st barrier in the Hanover states, and get Schein to free us of this and the other 11 barriers as far as Haarburg – Immense dead flat but the heather yields to pasture – peasants mowing the short grass sometimes mixed with a little short red clover – cattle – a little hemp – some beans, all in stook – potatoes – sour crout [kraut] cabbages  and brick wheat – people ploughing – 20 or 30 thatches farm cottages bam and stable etc. under the same roof – large door entering at the gabel-end which forms the front – a couple of wood bridges over waters – reeds and rushes and much swampy ground – (little boats on the waters) – more wood

SH:7/ML/E/16/0108

pollarded willows etc. and enter the picturesque gable-ended small town of Rotensburg  - pass wooden bridge in the town, and alight at the Gasthaus at 6 35 – arrange for the night, and saunter out before dinner pollarded [?]? (like boulevard trees) [?] the houses – very picturesque  scattered Ottensburg in the midst of orchards and gardens the people in the midst of their hay-harvest – roads everywhere still paved and repaired with granite boulders – went into the neat gabel-ended posthouse – large door of entrance into large sort of hall? – little rooms on each side and at the far end – at 35 minutes from Ottensburg a nice, little picturesque neat village – then a large flat again with cultivation here and there and pasture not very much heather and latterly woods in the distance – more willows etc. about the town – cross a couple of a wooden bridges over waters and enter the gable ended picturesque little town of Rotensburg [Rothenburg]  - like a Parisian boulevard – lime trees (pollarded and clipt flat and thin like walls as in France) before the doors – almost all the large doors, entering the gabel-end front - alight at the gasthaus at 6 35 arrange for the night and saunter a little about the town - dinner at 8 (only a larded hare, not well cooked, potatoes and bread and cheese - no beer to be had) - till 9 ¾ wrote out the whole of today - Miss F- in my room   I having a queer dressing room she said  we parted very different from what we began   I had been not the same person these last three days    had been out of humour   I laughed it off  would not allow it or merely made a joke of it   shall be too happy to get rid of her   she does me no good and is very stupid and odd – very fine day – F63° now at 10 50 p.m.

[ithebookhoarder]

Can I get 83 off the angst list with Javier??? It's: Stay there I'm coming to get you

100 ways to say ily Prompt 83: “Stay there. I’m coming to get you” (Javier Peña x F!Reader)

A/N: Ooo, right in the angst. Let’s get to it! I also assume you meant this prompt list rather than the angst one as that’s only up to 20 ;) Don’t worry. I got you tho! I hope you like it x  Apologies for my terrible attempts at Spanish, so let me know if I got any of it wrong.

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood, references to death (let me know if I missed anything)

Masterlist:

-------

“Javi?”

“Y/N?” 

The sound of his voice was soft as you held the phone to your ear. You could hear the soft echo of music playing in the background telling you he was definitely at home. 

Why wouldn’t he be, given the hour? It was the morning. 3 am to be precise. He should have been asleep. You should have been asleep, but no, you’d had to chase this lead alone. Like an idiot. A strong willed idiot who should have known better. 

But no. The idea of being able to catch one of Escobar’s top employees had been too tempting an opportunity to miss despite the fact the ambassador had said otherwise. In fact, he’d said fuck no, telling all of you to wait it out and get another source to confirm it. 

Apparently a friend of one of Javi’s ex informants wasn’t what they called reliable... even though she had direct access to the people supposed to be gathering tonight at the club you’d been staking out. 

Two hours you’d watched from your car, having snuck out to do so. If Javier and Steve had wanted to behave for once, then that was their call. They could stay and fill out paperwork to their hearts content. 

You didn’t need them for what was supposed to be a routine stake out and observation mission. 

Or so you’d thought. 

The fact you’d been made by one of the gang about thirty minutes after you’d entered the club had put a pretty big dampener on your plan. You hadn’t noticed as they’d arrived, recognising you after you’d almost caught them at a raid only days ago. 

The sicario had slipped away, managing to leap across one of the roofs as you’d chased them across. Had Steve not grabbed your arm and told you it was too dangerous a jump to risk, you’d have followed. 

But here he was, back and ready for payback... and he’d been quick to point you out to the others surrounding him. 

You knew it had been risky to be here and unfortunately, you were proved horrifically right. The fact you’d got away was a minor miracle, even if you were now bleeding. Badly. 

Damn bullet had missed but the graze was agonising, causing you to wince as you clutched at your side, trying to stem the bleeding as best you could. 

“Javi... I messed up.”

“Y/N, hermosa. What is it? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

His questions were relentless, firing one after the other as he detected the fear in your voice. The pain and regret too. 

“I’m ... I’m in an alley... by Fiebre... I’m sorry...”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. It’s ok,” Javi soothed, panic underlying each word. You could hear him clattering about, most likely grabbing his keys and rushing out of the apartment next to yours. He didn’t need to ask to know what you were doing or why you were there. He knew you too well. He also knew you wouldn’t be calling like this if you weren’t in trouble. Trouble serious enough he had to get to you. Fast. “I’m on my way. Just stay there. I’m coming to get you.” 

A tear rolled down your cheek as the air suddenly felt a lot colder. Like Javi had just turned on the stupid faulty AC unit in your apartment, like he always did when it got late and he was staying over to look over material or keeping you company. 

God. What you’d have given to have him there to hold you right then. To wrap his familiar leather jacket around you like he always did when you forgot a jacket of your own, still forgetting that the hot days often fell into cooler nights. 

You longed for its touch, its scent, its comfort as you stared at the sky and prayed you lived long enough to regret this. 

“Fuck.” Your car was just down the street. You were so close but you didn’t know if you had the strength to make it there. “Javi... I’m bleeding... the bullet... it hit my side... it won’t stop.”

“Y/N, baby. Listen to me. We’re coming. Steve and I. It’s gonna be ok. Just keep talking to me, ok? Put pressure on it and don’t fall asleep. You hear me?”

“Javi-“

“I’m fucking serious, hermosa. You hear me? You better keep your damn eyes open long enough so I can look at them when we get there, and you make some stupid wise crack about all this.”

A car door slammed. Voices rang out over the line. You could hear an engine start. 

“Javi... I love you... I really do...”

“Y/N? Y/N?”

His voice sounded desperate, terrified even, as you faded away, failing to reply. You simply felt the edges of your vision beginning to dim and the inevitable pull of sleep tugging you toward an abyss you knew there would be no coming back from. 

You couldn’t fight it any longer.

A single tear trickled down your cheek and you felt the phone drop from your hand onto the cold concrete beneath you. 

“I’m sorry.”

——— 

“-y tienes suerte de que te quiera mucho. Odio los hospitales. este lugar es jodidamente horrible. No puedo dejarte aquí solo. no cuando te vas a despertar en cualquier momento. ¿Me escuchas? Tú vas a-“

The voices were coming in waves, washing over you and disappearing just as quickly. 

It was hard to try and hold on to, even if you wanted to. This voice in particular was soft and tempting, familiar even... Coaxing you in over and over every time you slipped back into the darkness that was so warm and soft. 

You’d always been a deep sleeper, slamming your alarm harder than necessary whenever it tried to wake you. 

Now was the same... even if you knew it shouldn’t be. Even if you felt odd, like you were supposed to be somewhere and you’d forgotten... 

But where?

“She should have woken by now-“

“Javi, calm down. She’s gonna be fine. The doctor said so. She just needs to rest. Have a little faith in her. She’s tough. She’ll pull through this.”

“But if she doesn’t ... Steve, I can’t...”

“Hey. Look at me, Peña. It’s gonna be alright. Now come on. Connie said she’d bring some clothes for you...”

There they were. The voices again. 

Somehow, you knew that they were trying to pull you back to wherever you were supposed to be. 

To the aching you felt. To the mechanical beeping you could hear. To the painfully bright lights hovering overhead. 

To the weight and warmth of someone’s hand holding yours. 

To the familiar face pressed against the bed as he slept, holding you hand tightly as if scared to let you go. 

“Javi?” you croaked. 

Like that, he was awake. 

You worried he’d have whiplash, he sat up so fast, eyes wide in disbelief as he realised you were awake. “Y/N? Oh, thank God!” 

“Y/N?”

“Steve?” you rasped, noticing your other partner as he leapt out of his chair in the corner of the room. The relief was clear as he smiled and hurried to the door. 

“Thank god. I’m gonna grab a nurse.” 

“Ok.” You smiled and turned to Javier who was still holding your hand tight, watching you with bloodshot eyes. “What... how long was I-?”

“Three days,” he whispered. “You really scared me there for a second, hermosa. You... you lost so much blood and they weren’t sure you were gonna make it.” 

“I’m sorry.”

The sight of tears in his eyes was more painful than the bullet hole that was currently sending white hot agony shooting through your side. You’d never seen Javi so torn up before. Never. The worst was when he’d sit silently and smoke for hours without even moving. 

As much as you hated that, you’d take that any day over this. Knowing you were the cause. 

“No. Don’t be,” he dismissed swiftly. “I mean yeah, I wanna shoot you myself for running off and pulling a dumb fucking stunt like that but I get it... I really do. I’d have done the same thing. Hell, I have done the same thing. I just wish you’d asked me to come. Or even Murphy. We would have.”

“The ambassador had his eye on you after the raid this week,” you protested weakly, wincing at the pain in your side as you tried to sit up. “I couldn’t risk you or Murphy or your jobs like that.” 

“Fuck our jobs.”

“Javi -“

“No, hermosa. Listen. I mean this. You come first, understood? Always,” Javi snarled, kissing the back of your hand. “I love you and I mean that. Life isn’t worth it without you. This job means shit all without you. You come first? Ok. Always. Seeing you lying there with all the blood on you... it made me realise a few things and this is one of them. I don’t want a life or a future without you in it.” 

You couldn’t help it as the tears began to flow again, your heart swelling with love for the man in front of you. You couldn’t help but reach out and brush your fingers through his hair as you’d done so many nights before. 

“I love you too, Javier Peña.”

“Good. Remember that when Steve gets back and starts ripping into your ass,” Javier teased, lightening up now that your were awake and talking again. “I won’t be able to save you then, carino. Sorry. Sicarios are one thing, but Murphy? He’s almost as terrifying as Connie.”

Oh fuck. You’d forgotten about Connie. Oh she was gonna kill you. Big time. 

That woman was the biggest mother hen you’d met in your entire life. She’d also probably have your ass on house arrest for the rest of your life after this stunt. 

“Shit,” you whined, dropping back against the pillows. “It was good while it lasted.”

“And good thing we get to do it all again another time,” he hummed. “Just ... not for a while, ok? Not until you’re on your feet.” 

“You mean, not until Connie says so?”

Javi didn’t even flinch as he nodded, deadly serious. “Yep. 100 percent.”

------

Translation: “and you are lucky i love you so much. i hate hospitals. this place is fucking horrid. i cant leave you here alone. not when you are going to wake up any minute now. you hear me? you are going to-”

[easily-infatuated23]

The Nanny

request: “Hello, could you write something where a few years after the death of his wife Draco hires a new nanny for Scorpius and ends up falling in love with her... could have anguish, but the ending would be happy? Please!My first language is not English I'm sorry if you got confused.” - @trouxa2x  

a/n: i hope this is what you wanted! and your english is great don’t worry :) also-there is a phone call which is in italics and song lyrics for La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf in italics

pairing: Draco Malfoy x Nanny!Reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: mention of death for like a moment

summary: After the birth of his son and the death of his wife, Draco Malfoy needs a nanny 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day Draco Malfoy’s son was born was the happiest and saddest day of his life. His loving wife Astoria had been diagnosed with a blood curse that killed her moments after Scorpius was born. His first breath, had been her last. Although he knew this would be the likely outcome, it was still crushing. Draco didn’t like to talk about his emotions and knew the only way to get over his wife’s death would be to burry himself in his work as a Healer. But with a baby, he couldn’t just shut out the world. He needed help. It was obvious he was struggling.

During the long process of making amends after the war, Draco had some how become close to the golden trio he had despised so much as a child. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had all come by to meet Scorpius and check in on Draco. He looked awful. The bags under his eyes were worse than during the war. “I have a friend who is looking for some work as a nanny, she’s great with kids, babies especially. I’ll get you her number” Hermione said, rummaging through her purse looking for her contacts book. Draco nodded slightly. He had considered getting a nanny but the idea of another woman acting motherly toward Scorpius made him feel sick. However, Draco politely took the number and thanked Hermione.

As the months continued on Draco found it easier to care for Scorpius. He had taken up a job as a consultant for the hospital so he could spend most of his time at home with his son. But as the months stretched into years, Draco grew depressed. Scorpius became fussier and fussier and the hospital was begging for him to come back as a full time Healer. “It’s time” Draco thought. He looked through the drawers of his desk until he found the phone number Hermione had given him nearly two years prior. He dialed the number, feeling anxious and unsure of exactly what to say.

“Hello?” a female voice answered.

“Hi um is this Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she, may I ask who is calling?”

“Oh yes um this is Draco Malfoy. I’m a friend of Hermione Gran- I mean Weasley’s.”

“Oh hello! I remember she mentioned a few years back you might be in need of a nanny.”

“Yes! Well, I had been handling it pretty well but now I am finding myself in need of some help so I can go back to work…”

“I see. Let me guess, those ‘terrible two’s’ are in full swing right about now” she chuckled.

“Yes exactly! I was wondering if you would consider interviewing to become a live-in nanny for my son Scorpius. I am not sure for how long or what I would pay you but-”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” she interrupted. “I’m sure we could conduct a formal interview as well but may I come over and just meet Scorpius first? I find that sometimes the baby will tell the parent whether or not the nanny is the right fit, even before an interview.”

“Yes of course. Can you come over around 11 am tomorrow?”

“Yes. See you then. Good day”

“Thank you, cheers”

He hung up the phone. He looked over at Scorpius sitting in his high chair. The baby gurgled and threw some cereal to the ground. Then seeing his cereal on the ground, Scorpius started to wail at an incredible volume. The interview couldn’t come soon enough. The next day at 11 am sharp, Y/N knocked on the door. When Draco opened it, she was met with the chaos that had become his daily life. The house was a mess and Scorpius was screaming. “Hi, welcome. Sorry about the mess” he stammered, showing her into the house. “Nice to meet you Mr. Malfoy” she replied cheerily. Seemingly unfazed, she walked into the living room, put down her purse, and sat down next to the screaming baby. Draco watched her as she began to rub the baby’s back and started to softly sing. The baby slowly began to quiet down until he was quiet enough for Draco to hear what Y/N was singing.

~Quand il me prend dans ses bras, qu’il me parle tout bas. Je vois la vie en rose. Il me dit des mots d’amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça m'fait quelque chose….~

The baby began to smile as Y/N picked him up and cradled him, still singing.

~Il est entré dans mon cœur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause. C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie. Et dès que je l’aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon cœur qui bat..~

She then began to hum the tune more quietly and sway lightly. Scorpius’s eyes fluttered closed as he drifted to sleep. She smiled and looked up at his father. Draco was standing with his hand over his mouth, tears falling from his icy blue eyes. “Are you alright Mr. Malfoy?” she whispered. He nodded. He cleared his throat quietly before speaking. “La Vie en Rose was the song Astoria and I used for our first dance at our wedding”. “Oh I’m so sorry, if I had known I wouldn’t have…” He shook his head at her. “No it’s alright. I just… miss her”. She tilted her head sympathetically. “From what I’ve heard of her, she sounded lovely. I wish I could have met her.” Draco nodded and looked down at his shoes, trying to hold himself together.

“If you would tell me where his crib is I can put him down so we can start the formal interview. If you’d like” she said, knowing a subject change was what needed to occur. Draco nodded and gestured for her to follow him. Once Scorpius was in his crib, the adults went to the living room to discuss the particulars of the arrangement. Y/N told Draco about how she discovered her love for child care when she worked as a nanny for a short time while traveling in France. “When I came back to England, I worked for a few other Wizarding families including Hermione and Ron for a short time. Ron actually nick named me ‘the baby whisperer’” she said chuckling. “After what just happened, I’m inclined to believe him!” Draco replied. Without needing to consider it, Draco offered Y/N the job.

A year later Draco was still kicking himself daily for not hiring Y/N sooner. His life and mental health had improved drastically since she moved in. He was able to go back to working at the hospital full time and help people like he had always wanted. The two had developed a close friendship and Y/N became part of his family. The house felt almost foreign when she was gone. Though she was a live-in nanny, Draco still encouraged Y/N to take days off, and when she would go, Draco missed her terribly. He could tell Scorpius missed her too.

“You’re falling in love with her!” Hermione teased. She had come over to see Y/N and Draco and knew immediately. “What? No, she works for me. That would be highly inappropriate” he replied defensively. Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco looked across the room at Y/N. She was holding Scorpius near a window and was pointing at something and talking to him. Scorpius was giggling loudly and clapping his little chubby hands. Draco couldn’t help but smile. There was no doubt that he was fond of Y/N, but did he love her? She was great with Scorpius, she understood Draco’s feelings (sometimes better than he did), and she was beautiful. But her beauty wasn’t just external, she had a truly beautiful soul. Another six months went by before Draco was sure. He had fallen for Y/N. He hadn’t meant to fall for her, but she was easy to love. He tried not to act differently towards her but after the realization of his feelings, he couldn’t help it. It started with lingering glances and lead to going out of his way to have little moments of physical contact with her. Whether that was reaching for the same toy to give to Scorpius, or squeezing her hand to get her attention while Scorpius was sleeping. There was not a doubt in his mind about it. He loved her, whole heartedly.

Draco woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of Scorpius crying. He rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed. He walked down the hallway and into his son’s room, only to find that Y/N was already there. She was standing with her back to the door, rocking Scorpius and singing to him. Draco stood outside of the room, leaning on the door frame as he watched Y/N calm the crying child. He couldn’t help but smile at her. Eventually, she stopped singing and spoke to Scorpius. “You are so loved Scorpius. Your dad loves you, I love you, and your mama loves in all the way from heaven.” Draco continued to smile but in a more melancholy way. Y/N had always made a point of talking to Scorpius about his mother, even though she knew the baby didn’t understand what she said. Draco still found it difficult to talk about Astoria, but Y/N had always insisted that Scorpius know how much his mother loved him, even though she was gone. She rocked him a few more times before placing him back into his crib. When she turned to face the door she smiled at Draco. “I’ll see you again in an hour or so” she joked. She walked past him and exited the room, making her way down to the first floor. Draco watched her walk away before returning to his room. Scorpius didn’t cry again that night but still Draco couldn’t sleep. He decided to go down to the kitchen and fix himself a sandwich, besides, if he was awake he might as well do something to pass the time. As he made his way down the hall to the stairs, he noticed a light was on in the kitchen. He walked down and found Y/N sitting in the kitchen. She was sitting at the kitchen counter eating a bowl of pasta and reading a book. She looked up when she heard him enter the room. “Can’t sleep?” she asked. He chuckled and nodded. “Welcome to the club. Look I even saved you a seat!” she joked, gesturing at the chair next to her.

He rummaged through the pantry and complied his sandwich. He then joined her at the table. She put her book down and angled herself in his direction. “You seem different” she said. He looked down at his plate, feeling a pit in his throat. He gulped. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You just seem…I don’t know, happier recently. I can’t put my finger on it”. Did she know about his feelings? Was she trying to bait him into admitting it? He forced himself to look at her. Even at 4 in the morning she was beautiful. He took a deep breath and decided to answer honestly. “I recently decided that I’m ready to open myself up to the idea of love again. Astoria wouldn’t want me to be alone for the rest of my life and something just told me its time” he said. Y/N smiled. “That’s really great Draco. I’m so happy for you”. She had a slight glimmer in her eye, she had to know. He eyed her a bit suspiciously. She laughed. “Ok ok don’t give me that look! Hermione might have mentioned to me that you had found someone and I had to ask! Whoever she is she’s a lucky girl” she turned back to her book.

Draco couldn’t believe what he heard. Y/N, the girl who some how knew him better than he knew himself, didn’t know he was in love with her! He smiled and rolled his eyes as he stood up and leaned his back against the counter, putting his hand over Y/N’s book. She looked up at him, some what puzzled. “Y/N, it’s you. I’ve fallen for you. Totally and completely” he said, hopefully sounding more courageous than he was feeling. Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t speak. She mouthed “me?” and pointed to herself. Draco’s smile widened and he nodded. She grinned. He cupped his hands around her cheeks and leaned in closely, so closely it was a wonder their eyelashes didn’t brush against each other. He waited for her to give him permission to close the gap between their bodies. “Kiss me” she whispered. He closed the gap and their lips touched, gently but still passionately. She stood up from her chair and rose to her tip toes as her hands played with his hair. The kissing became laughing as they came up for air. “I didn’t think it was possible to kiss someone and smile at the same time” Y/N said. “With you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop smiling”. There was a comfortable silence as they rested their foreheads against each other, enjoying being close. “I love you Y/N”. She looked up and into his eyes. “I love you too Draco”.

[def-initely-soul]

house rules {2}

pairing: jimin x reader (f.)

genre: fluff; angst; roommates au; kinda new girl au; smut; f2l au

rating: explicit

warnings: sexual content; mention of emotional abuse; mention of manipulative relationship; mention of body issues; explicit smut

words: 19.6k

summary:

↠ {living with two guys has always its pros and cons. Pros being someone will always get you popcorn for your midnight cravings. Cons being you might like one of them…?} ↞

or alternatively, the shenanigans of five friends, where two of them are in a loving relationship, one is Kim Seokjin and the other two don’t know what the fuck they’re doing

.

.

Next morning, on Christmas eve, you try to be as nonchalant as you can. Thankfully your walls are thick enough so no one took notice of your late-night shenanigans and what happened between you before Hoseok’s interruption was barely anything out of the ordinary.

Thankfully you get yourself distracted with the preparations for this evening. Every year the five of you plan a traditional Christmas dinner, idea courtesy of Hoseok’s and Seokjin’s minds, where every single one of you was assigned to different tasks.

Seokjin is in charge of the roasted turkey, as he is every year, Hoseok will cook his famous vanilla-roasted sweet potatoes, Jimin will prepare a cauliflower soup and Ana is always in charge of the desert. This year choosing the recipe of a Buche de Noel.

You’re left with the simple task of making smooth mashed potatoes and bringing the booze.

Even though simpler than what others have to do, it gives you time to be alone and focus on something else other than Jimin. Whether you’re cooking or going to the store to pick up the alcohol, your time is productively filled with anything other than thoughts of him.

You take a nap around midday, leaving the kitchen free for the guys to use. Taking a hold of this opportunity to stay clear of Jimin’s gaze. You make sure your interactions are limited between the lines of what is only necessary, even when the preparations are done and you sit around the table.

Ana and Seokjin arrive together, the turkey the size of a small TV, which Seokjin himself puts on the table. Not letting anyone else help him or carve it, flashbacks of last year when Jimin tried to carve it and nearly dropped it still etched to everyone’s memory.

You help Ana move the desert to the fridge for later, and as all of you take your places at the dinner table, you feel a particular set of eyes on you.

Thankfully you don’t sit next to him so you don’t have any one-on-one conversation like you do with Seokjin sitting to your right. You only talk to him when the conversation involves the whole group and that’s only to not alert anyone that something is off.

Your mind is swarmed with memories of Jimin’s look. With the way he’s looking at you now.

You ignore it in favour of talking to Ana at the end of the table as she rumbles excitedly about the party next week. You immerse yourself in that conversation, going lightly over some details and pouring another glass of wine as Seokjin passionately joins you.

Although, even if you’re engrossed to something else you can’t help but notice one thing. 

He never mentions Dinah.

And that gives you magnificent, dreadful hope.

.

.

It’s New Year's Eve, and you’re in an awfully good mood.

The party is in full bloom, the essence of joy and excitement wafting through the air, people dancing their worries away and laughing under the neon-lights (Ana really went all-in in the decoration department), having fun in what can only be a fitting welcome for a bright New Year.

The mulled wine has gotten slightly into you, landing you in that perfect spot between sober and tipsy, just enough to elevate your already high spirits. Besides you’re also celebrating finally finishing your book. It’s been a bitch of a struggle but finally, you’ve gone and did it. Finally booking an appointment with a publishing company that took an interest in you after reading one of your drafts you’ve previously sent them.

And well. Dinah isn’t here.

“I cannot believe I’m talking to the next Stephen King!” Hoseok yaps excitedly, throwing an arm around your shoulder, voice raised higher than normal due to the several “old-fashioned” he managed to throw back.

You grunt from the sudden weight as he leans a bit too much on your side to stand up. “Okay, step it down a notch, buddy,” you chuckle, patting him on the shoulder.

He thinks it over before-. “Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?”

Your eyes widen, an involuntary laugh escaping you. “I said step it down a notch, not climb the whole mcfreakin ladder?” Hoseok giggles happily, before his eyes rest on the hostess, who’s currently talking to a coworker, gleeful smile in full bloom.

He waves at you to lean closer to him and you oblige. “See that girl over there?” he whispers to you conspiratory, pointing at Ana who seems oblivious to your conversation. You chuckle at his drunk antics but decide to appease him and nod.

A blissful smile takes over his lips. “Imma marry her someday.”

You barely keep your smile at bay. Honestly, Hoseok is whipped for Ana and anyone who doesn’t see that is blind, so it doesn’t sound weird coming from him. You’re willing to bet his wish is gonna come true someday. It’s just a matter of time.

Though you’re happy for your friends, you can’t let this teasing opportunity pass you by.

“Hey, champ, I got some bad news for you…” you press your lips together in mock-sadness and Hoseok’s face falls.

“She has a boyfriend,” you deliver the final blow and his eyes widen. Before he bursts into tears.

At least a couple of people stare at you, as Hoseok bawls his eyes out and you can’t stop cackling. Oh, god, you didn’t know he was this drunk, he was perfectly fine moments ago! Although to be perfectly candid, he has a low alcohol tolerance, so really this one is on you.

Ana shows up after a few seconds, worry etched into her features after seeing her boyfriend cry like a baby. “What happened? Are you okay?” she asks him, obviously more sober than him, but once she sees you laughing, her eyes narrow. “What did you do to him?”

You shrug, your expression being the poster-child for innocence. “Nothing! I just told him you have a boyfriend.”

This sends another wave of tears down Hoseok’s cheeks and Ana laughs incredulously. 

“Is it true? Do you have a boyfriend” Hoseok struggles to ask through his hiccups and Ana can’t repress the lovesick smile on her lips.

“Yes and he’s a giant baby.”

“Does that mean I still have a chance?”

Ana chuckles before pressing a kiss on Hoseok’s pouty lips. “It’s you, you dufus! Now, come on, let’s get you to lay down…”

“Really?” he says with the most childlike smile you’ve ever seen on him. And only seconds later it turns into a smirk. "Oh, I will lay down, I will lay down so hard that you-” he struggles to complete his sentence, “that you’ll want to lay down with me…”

You groan out loud, not ready for the scene to turn into an NSFW one. “Are you horny all the time?” you complain out loud and the couple raises their brows at you.

“...Already know the answer to that one. Thank you very much five years of living together!” you admit regrettably and Ana tsks you.

“Serves you right for having the nerve to terrorize the sun himself!”

“That’s me!” Hoseok points to himself with a proud smile and you press your lips together to stop the giggles from escaping as Ana rolls her eyes fondly at her boyfriend.

“I’ll get him to my room-” Hoseok finger guns her, winks and blows her a kiss, “could you please make him some coffee?” Ana pleads you as she struggles to push a drunk Hoseok down the hall.

“You got it, babe! I’m gonna roast this coffee so bad, it’s gonna go running to its momma!” you announce in the spur of the moment, but Ana just looks at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Doesn’t work for me, does it?” Ana just shakes her head and you huff. “I’ll go get the coffee…”

You drive through the crowd, barely avoiding the drinks spilling left and right and finally reach the kitchen. Thankfully there’s only like a couple of people around, so you reach for the french press easily, adding the coffee grounds and warming some water in the microwave.

“Why on earth are you having coffee with so much alcohol around and why does that weirdly make sense for you?” Jimin enters your vision, resting his hip on the counter in a mirror of your stance and you have to take a breath.

His dark blue hair is slicked back, revealing the magnificence of his eyebrows (yeap, that’s another spot of Jimin you’re weak about). He’s dressed in all black; black jeans, black T-shirt with an open neckline, a leather belt hugging closely at his hips, a dangly earring gracing his earlobe and a silver chain resting against his glistening collarbones. He has been dancing and all you wanna do is dive in and bite at the skin of his neck, glinting welcoming under the dimmed lights.

Focus.

“Give me a break, it’s not even for me…” you joke back, just in time to cover up your little zone-out. Jimin stares back confused.

“Who then-?” he makes a sound of realization before he chuckles. “Hoseok,” he responds and you nod, a giggle already on your lips.

After Christmas eve, when you refused to even speak to him, things became less weird. It seems like the two days you spent actively avoiding each other helped in restoring the dynamics back to normality. You’re not even sure who made the first move but after a few days, you were back to normal, as if that thing on the couch never happened.

Maybe it is for the best to pretend it never happened. No feelings are going to get hurt this way.

“Yeap, Ana took him back to her bedroom,” you reply, moving to pour the water into the french press.

Jimin raises an unconvinced eyebrow as he hands you a mug. “And are you sure they’re not gonna fuck back there?”

You take the mug with an appreciative nod. “Honestly, they’re probably fucking right now on their way there. Maybe they are, maybe they’re not. Maybe I’ll be scarred for the rest of my life walking into that and maybe I won’t.”

“And you’ll take those chances?” Jimin chuckles incredulously and you almost swoon at the way his smile lights up the room.

“This coffee won’t deliver itself!” you joke and Jimin’s smile turns bigger.

“Your service is greatly appreciated!” he says with an awful British accent and proceeds to laugh.

“Well, thank you good sir!” you play into it with a curtsy and both of you burst into happy, slightly intoxicated giggles.

Your eyes rest on the french press as the coffee grounds seep into the water and it’s like your lips have a mind of their own when they ask the following question.

“So, alone tonight?” you ask with fake nonchalance and you swear Jimin tenses.

You can’t help yourself. From the moment you realized Dinah was absent you wanted to know why. They’ve been dating for almost a month, so that means they’d still be all over each other, you figured they’d want to spend New Year's together.

So how come Dinah isn’t here?

Jimin nods, eyes absentmindedly following your fingers as they trace the marble counter.

“What happened to Dinah? Didn’t want to spend New Years with our ugly asses?” you joke, hoping to lift the tension off his shoulders and rejoice when Jimin cracks a smile.

“No, no. Actually, her friends are throwing a party too…” he simply says, not giving you another explanation even though something else clearly bothers him. You don’t ask further, figuring he’ll tell you if he wants to, so you move to press the plunger down and pour the brown liquid into the cup Jimin handed you earlier.

“And I actually didn’t …” he hesitates, biting his bottom lip.

God, this is straight-up torture.

“Didn’t…?” you urge him on, sensing his desire to say whatever’s bothering him.

He takes a breath.

“Didn’t have the need to invite her…?” he admits, eyes on the steaming cup of coffee, struggling to put his thoughts into words as you stare at him utterly confused. He didn’t have the need to invite her? Like, he didn’t care if she was here?

No, Y/N, don’t get your hopes up.

Jimin huffs, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean.. I didn’t want to.”

And you find him staring at you again, with those intense, magnetic eyes and your breath is sucked out of your lungs.

He didn’t want to invite her. Why? What does it mean? Why did he do it?

And why is he looking at you like that?

Did he-?

“Surprise!” a familiar female voice echoes through the kitchen as Dinah throws herself literally against Jimin, hugging his waist with an excited smile. No concern in her eyes over your panicked faces.

You don’t know if she heard your conversation but if she did, she doesn’t show it.

Jimin’s wide, panicked eyes travel between you and Dinah. “Dinah, what are you doing here? I thought you were spending New Year’s at Minoh’s?” he turns around to bring her forward and the intimacy hiding in the domestic action drives a knife through your chest.

“That party was boring as hell. And I missed you,” she says with a blinding smile and leans in to press a soft kiss on Jimin’s lips, ripping your heart in two.

You can’t stand this. You can’t stand to watch as she kisses him right in front of you and you feel like an outsider, glimpsing at something you long for but can’t have. Is it always gonna be this hard?

You swallow the lump in your throat, gripping the cup tighter and force a smile on your lips just in time for the couple to miss your crestfallen expression.

It’s time to get out of here.

“That’s great! You’re just in time to spend New Year’s together!” you exclaim with forceful enthusiasm and Dinah nods excitedly as Jimin looks at you with an indecipherable expression. “You’ll have to excuse me, I have to deliver this bad boy!” you smile, pointing at the mug and you start walking away, already waiting for the moment you don’t have to keep that smile on your face any longer.

That seems to wake Jimin up as his eyes widen. “Wait, Y/N, I didn’t-”

“Have fun at the party!” you interrupt him, keeping the smile on for a little longer, before you turn your back at them, smile disappearing, steps fast as you miss Jimin’s face filled with despair.

.

.

Your steps bring you back to the living room, already having delivered the coffee to Ana’s room. Although Jimin’s suspicions were correct and you walked into a scene you’d rather forget, closing your eyes to avoid any more damage on your retina, resulting in you leaving the couple with a half-spilt coffee.

Not that they’ll be needing it now anyway.

Stepping into the main area of the party you can’t help the sour mood that takes over you, watching everyone have a good time. You were also having a good time until Dinah arrived.

Which reminds you. What did Jimin mean back then? Was it just stupid you with your tendency to read way too much into things or did he actually mean what you wanted him to?

And if he did, why is he still dancing with her?

Your eyes are stuck to the couple in question, dancing in the middle of the living room as a mid-tempo dance track plays through the speakers, Dinah’s hands wrapped around Jimin’s waist as he sways her softly to the beat.

The night started out so well. You were having fun, for once all worries put aside as you didn’t have to think about the book or Dinah, or Jimin. You were happy.

But then someone decided to shit all over that happiness and you were back to the beginning. Having your heart broken by your best friend and he doesn’t even know.

You take a breath to calm the erratic beating of your cracking heart when you see a too familiar face emerging from the kitchen.

Oh no, what is Jaehyun doing here?

You move quickly, dreading to talk to him, hoping he won’t see you but, alas, luck was never on your side.

His eyes spot you all the way across the room, with numerous people in between like he has laser vision or something. A smile takes over his lips as he waves at you and begins walking towards you.

God, no. No, you can’t deal with him right now. He’ll probably want another date and you know he deserves to know the truth but you just can’t do it right now.

You’re quick to move to the balcony, trying to lose him through the crown but his voice keeps calling you even outside. You slip through the people and into the living room, stopping to see him briefly lose you as his eyes scan the balcony.

You escape into the kitchen, hoping he won’t look for you here and in your hastiness to hide, you fall face-first into Seokjin’s chest.

“Fuck, sorry, you need to move!” you say urgently, trying to hide behind the massive wall he calls his shoulders.

Seokjin regards you with a suspicious glare. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to hide from Jaehyun!” you bite through gritted teeth as your eyes scan the open area behind you. With relief you realise Jaehyun isn’t anywhere near, just a bunch of other people and Jimin talking with Dinah and Hoseok.

Your heart still clenches uncomfortably when Seokjin interrupts your thoughts.

“Why are you hiding from Jaehyun? Didn’t the date go well?” he asks you purely confused and with guilt, you realize you never told him nor Ana that you bailed.

You bite your lip. “I didn’t go…”

Seokjin’s eyes widen comically. “What?! Why?! I thought you wanted to!”

You groan rubbing your palm on your face. “I just… didn’t feel like it anymore! And now he’s here, looking for me and I don’t know what to do! Who invited him anyway?”

At that Seokjin has the decency to look guilty. “I may have seen him at the coffee shop and invited him… But in my defence I didn’t even know you bailed on him!” he looks at you with a scolding glare and another groan leaves your lips.

“Oh, shit here he comes…” Seokjin looks carefully behind you and you steal a glance to indeed see Jaehyun stepping into the living room and walking straight towards you.

“Okay, fuck, let me think…” you mumble in thought when you see something on the ceiling, hanging just a few centimetres behind Seokjin.

“Got it!” you exclaim, and when Seokjin doesn’t follow, you push him back so both of you stand right beneath the thing hanging from the ceiling and then you point at it, knowing he’ll catch the drift.

Seokjin’s eyes follow your fingers, only to widen in horror when they rest at what you're pointing at.

Mistletoe.

“No! No, no, no, I’m not kissing you so you can get rid of him!” he hisses, eyes swimming in denial and disbelief. But you narrow your eyes at him.

“It’s your fault he’s here! So step the fuck up Kyle!” you hiss back and Seokjin looks less than thrilled.

“Don’t quote vines to me, you heathen, I won’t hesitate bitch!” he responds and you know you’re halfway winning him over.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this…” you reply, mastering the perfect puppy eyes.

The sound of his favourite vine has him yielding in a matter of seconds, choking back a laugh before he rolls his eyes. “Fine. But we gotta hurry up, he’s almost here,” Seokjin relents, eyes falling behind you.

“Buckle up,” is the only thing you say before grasping Seokjin’s panicked face and press your mouths together.

You stay like that for a few seconds, simply pressing your lips together like an awful K-drama kiss though there’s no romantic music playing in the background. The kiss is at its best… underwhelming. That’s what you were lusting after all those years? It certainly doesn’t live up to the expectations.

You lean back, staring at Seokjin who barely manages to conceal his weirded out face. “Is he gone?” you whisper and Seokjin nods in relief.

“Yes, he’s gone…” he mumbles, letting out a breath as you let his face free and take a step back, finally breathing freely.

“Don’t ever do that again!” he exclaims, his words followed by a loud gagging noise.

“Anything for you Beyonce!” you say, sharing the sentiment and you grab a random shot glass on the counter, to wash out the feeling of Seokjin’s clumsy mouth on yours.

“We don’t tell anyone. We take this to the grave and live the rest of our lives feeling slightly awkward with each other. Sounds good?” Seokjin states with wide eyes and you laugh at his seriousness.

“Ay, ay, captain! Now take a shot with me to erase the memory for good!” you say, filling two glasses with tequila and you hand him one.

“To forgetting this ever happened!” he raises his shot and you follow his movements before downing the contents of the glass.

“Amen to that.”

.

.

Half an hour later, its time for the countdown so the New Year can officially begin.

The automatic clock on Ana’s TV screen reads 23:59:03 and you rush to gather your friends together in one place, so the New Year can find all five of you together as it has for the last four years.

The rest of the attendees also gather in groups; friends, couples, coworkers, newly made acquaintances but all shimmering with the vibrating delight to welcome the New Year and the opportunities that are bound to come.

Ana and Hoseok are already counting down the numbers - admittedly a bit too early -, and Seokjin passes you four tequila shots to celebrate once the clock strikes midnight. But then he’s left with an extra one and realization strucks you.

“Hey, where’s Jimin? He’s supposed to be here!” you yell to be heard amidst the loud chattering of the crowd, but your question remains unanswered when Seokjin shrugs his shoulders in loss.

Ana looks around to find said-man but it’s Hoseok that finally puts an end to the mystery. “Uh, actually he went home!”

Your eyebrows furrow, confusion apparent in your eyes. He’s never missed out on this! How could he leave? You always spent New Year’s together, the five of you, it was your unique tradition, one you’ve expected him to keep up with.

Maybe he was feeling a bit under the weather, you try to reason with yourself. Let’s not get mad at him before knowing the whole story.

“Wait, so he left without telling anyone? Is he okay? Did he even tell Dinah he’d leave?” you question back, aware of Ana & Seokjin’s wary gazes but you don’t bother to acknowledge them.

Thankfully, Hoseok still isn’t entirely sober to notice them either and start asking questions.

He just shakes his head at you. “Oh, no, they both left. Oh, the countdown’s started!”

As people begin shouting along with the voice on the TV you can’t help but stare aimlessly into space.

They both left. Jimin ditched you, all four of you to spend New Year’s with Dinah. Alone.

And it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

It shouldn’t feel as much as a personal attack but it does. He left all four of you but it still feels like he specifically left you behind. As if he doesn’t care anymore. Before all that the chance of the two of you ever happening was abysmal. But it was still there, however small. You were fine with that cause at least you knew he valued you as a friend.

Now, you’re not even sure of that anymore.

You should be fine with him leaving. You’re just his friend.

And yet the heartbreak is overbearing.

Seokjin looks at you carefully as Hoseok keeps counting down to one, entirely unaware of what just happened as Ana counts with him but her eyes are on you.

You give her and Seokjin a weak smile, before averting your eyes quickly to count as well, not bearing to see the looks of pity in their eyes.

You hate this.

The clock strikes midnight.

You’ve never felt more alone.

.

.

The next morning finds you exhausted when you wake up on Seokjin’s couch. You’re not sure you could handle going back to the apartment and having Dinah and Jimin across the hall from you. Hoseok was going to spend the night at Ana’s, meaning firstly he kinda gave Jimin the pass to run wild and secondly you couldn’t crash at Ana’s. Of course, she insisted it was okay but you didn’t want to cockblock her on New Year’s. So Seokjin offered his home as an alternative which you happily accepted.

You’re dreading to go back to your flat, though already knowing it’s an inevitable curse, you leave a note for Seokjin to find when he wakes up and then you leave his apartment.

On the way home, you wonder if you should trek over to the donut shop around the corner for some heavenly delicacies but then you’d have to buy Jimin and Dinah some. And that is simply something you’re not willing to do.

Hopefully, they’ll be both asleep when you arrive, too tired to be up at 10 am on New Year’s, so you’ll get your chance to quietly slip into your room and avoid everyone for the rest of the week.

Maybe even a month until those stupid feelings finally decide to disappear.

You try your best to be as soundless as possible when you unlock the front door. You enter the living room on your tiptoes, closing the door quietly behind you before moving to throw your coat on the hanger.

The moment you think you’re alone passes by quickly when you hear the door of the fridge being shut and immediately turn around to see Jimin staring at you with bleary eyes. His hair is a mess as he’s clad in a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants as his pjs, a cup of what must be steaming coffee on one hand as the other runs through his locks. You find yourself salivating.

“Where did you go this early in the morning?” his gruff voice comes out, purely confused and before you get to correct him, his eyes fall on your figure. And he realizes you’re still dressed the same as last night.

“Did you just get here?” he asks, his voice a tad too sharp and accusing to be considered friendly and your arms wrap around your middle protectively.

“Uh, yeah… I crashed at Seokjin’s… Too tired to come back after helping Ana clean up…” you joke, forcing a laugh to hopefully ease the sudden tension hanging in the air.

Though your airy laugh doesn’t reach Jimin. Instead, his eyes are fixed on the wall to his right, jaw tense in what seems almost as anger before he takes a quick sip of his coffee and slum the cup on the counter.

“Ugh… are you okay-?” your confusion is apparent in your voice as Jimin walks off the kitchen, down the hallway.

“I’m going back to sleep…” he mumbles through clenched teeth before he disappears inside his bedroom and closes the door with a loud bang.

You stare weirdly at his door, bewildered by his entire behaviour but you’re still too sleepy to let it get to you. So instead you opt for crawling over to your room and hide beneath the covers.

.

.

The days after New Year’s turn out weirder and weirder to the point of questioning your mental state.

Seokjin still feels somewhat awkward around you after the kiss but instead of avoiding you, as any normal human being would do, he actively seeks you out, clinging to you and following you around like a shadow, as if the over-exposure will help him get rid of the awkwardness faster.

True to your words, none of you have said anything about it to the others, so you were half waiting for everyone to be immediately weirded out by Seokjin’s sudden display of affection. But apart from Ana that gave you some scarce confused looks, the other two haven’t made a single comment, as if this is a completely normal situation. They barely blink when even yourself gets creeped out from Seokjin’s insistent coddling.

Which brings you to the other weird thing happening in the flat.

Jimin barely talks to you anymore.

You don’t have the slightest idea why. If you said something, or done something that offended him, you’re none the wiser. And how are you supposed to know when he barely greets you in the morning?

Every time you attempt conversation, there’s always something he has to do, which sounds completely ironic, given you were the one that kinda did the same before.

Not to cover your own ass but you did that for the sake of your friendship! If Jimin ever finds out you’re into him, you can’t bear to think the effect this might have on your friendship.

Whereas Jimin might as well be angry over such a small thing as you using his earbuds.

It wouldn’t have bothered you that much if it wasn’t for Dinah.

Well, she barely does anything, it's just that Jimin always goes to her when he has the chance. Nights spent with all five of you together munching on popcorn in front of the TV, turn into awkward gatherings as Ana and Hoseok pair up against you and Seokjin, leaving the two of you cringing whenever the couple does something too coupley.

At New Year’s Eve, he practically admitted he wasn’t that much into her anymore and now he’s always with her. Did he lie back then? And if so why?

Everything is wrong and you don’t know how to fix it.

If only Jimin hadn’t begun dating Dinah, none of this would’ve happened. You wouldn’t have realised you liked him, he wouldn’t have spent so much time with her, he wouldn’t abandon the four of you for her.

Although, a small part of you screams you would’ve realised you liked Jimin either way. It wasn’t about Dinah.

And yet you can’t help the loathing that emerges like bile in your throat when you hear her name.

Or when Jimin, after two weeks of avoiding the rest of you, announces you are to throw a dinner so you can get to know her better.

You feel the headache splitting your skull open.

.

.

It’s nearly impossible to hide your sour mood once Dinah steps into the apartment.

A switch has flipped and where there was a smile from joking around with Ana, now there’s a permanent scowl on your face as you refuse to even acknowledge the newcomer, as she greets the rest of your friends.

Once she says hello to you too, you mumble something that resembles a greeting, not even bothering to look at her direction, as Ana regards you with a warning glare.

Deep down you know most of your attitude comes from Jimin’s behaviour these last couple of days, and Dinah’s direct contribution is only at roughly 10%. But you’re stubborn, immature and putting the blame on her seems like an easy way to cope with the situation and the hurricane of feelings swirling in your mind.

No one said it’s the right one. But for now, it’s what keeps you from hiding in your bedroom and wallowing in self-pity. Not that you won’t do that later.

You result in setting the table with Hoseok in silence, not really in the mood to talk, as everyone else sits in the living room and you catch glimpses of their conversation.

Seokjin and Ana talk about a new addition Seokjin wants to put on the menu of his restaurant, while Jimin and Dinah dally on the other side of the room.

You think you’re gonna barf.

“Ugh… Y/N are you okay?”

You turn around at the voice, surprised to see Hoseok stare at you with confused and worried eyes. Shit, did he sniff out something?

“Ah, yes! Why?” you put forward your most cheery voice in the hopes it will throw him off.

“‘Cause you keep stabbing the meat with the forks…” he comments carefully, leaning a bit backwards as his worry grows, once your confused eyes meet his.

And then you look back to the meat and, surely, all the forks you were supposed to pass around the table are stabbed into the steaks on the centre of the table.

Your eyes widen as you press your lips together in horror. God, why can’t you just behave for once?

You rush to remove all the utensils, dumping them into the sink and you pick out new ones, as Hoseok keeps staring at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m fine!” you respond with a clipped voice and you’re not sure what Hoseok hears in your voice but he drops it, in favour of placing the napkins around the table. Though you can still feel his weirded-out stare from time to time.

Once the table is set, Hoseok calls for everyone to gather around and one by one flock to their seats.

And as you put the finishing touches, you can’t help but hear Jimin’s conversation with Dinah.

“We have ice cream for dessert, you’re gonna love this one, it’s heavenly!” he says with excitement.

“Oh, only if it’s vegan, me and regular milk don’t go along…” she jokes and as Jimin says he’ll have someone check, an idea pops into your head. A petty, childish idea but it gives you some purpose for now.

So, she’s lactose intolerant? It would surely be a shame if she were to eat normal ice cream.

And by “shame” you mean hilarious.

The little voice in the back of your head berates you for acting so immature but at this moment you desperately need this. You can be salty for one evening.

What’s the harm?

.

.

Once everyone’s plates are empty, the lot of you migrate to the living room, as you stay in the kitchen to get the ice cream out of the freezer.

Jimin told Ana to ask you to check for the ice cream some time ago, -can you believe it, he didn’t even ask you! He had to talk to Ana for god’s sake-, and you did. But just as you’d suspected it wasn’t vegan.

So your plan is good to go.

You have Seokjin help you carry the bowls of ice cream to the living room and you pass each one around as they’re expected with excited noises.

Ana almost moans at the delicious flavour and Hoseok chuckles at his girlfriend’s antics as you sit next to Seokjin and dive straight into your own bowl.

During dinner it seemed everyone got along just fine with Dinah, talking and joking together as if she’s been a part of this group for a long time. And it bothers you even more.

You also recognize her attempts to get close to you as well but really you can’t be bothered. It comes to the point where she talked to you and all you did is give her a one-word answer before turning your attention somewhere else.

Though right at this moment your attention is solely on her as she takes a scoop out of her ice cream.

“Mmm, it’s really good!” she says excitedly to a smiling Jimin, as she swoops in for another spoon.

But after a few seconds, her eyebrows scrunch in confusion, as she keeps the ice cream in her mouth, looking as if she’s trying to figure out something. You can barely contain your gloating.

“Uhm, this ice cream is vegan right?” she rushes to say, eyes growing just a bit wider with what seems like panic.

Ana turns to look at you and you answer with the most innocent look you can manage, acting like you just realised you didn’t.

“Oh, oops! I guess I forgot to check, sorry! Why, are you lactose intolerant?” you respond in the first complete sentence you’ve given her tonight, internally gloating at her misfortune.

She swallows, her eyes widen even more, traces of fear growing in them. “Ugh, no-”

What does she mean no?

“I’m allergic.”

At once every conversation ceases, all eyes resting on her, wide in shock.

Fuck.

Jimin is the first to react.

“What?! Shit. Are you okay, should we take you to a hospital?” he asks in panic, placing the ice cream as further away from her as he can while you’re left staring at her in horror.

“Well, since I can feel my tongue thwelling, I thay we thould,” she comments shaking, losing the ability to pronounce the letter “s” as more time passes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you struggle to say, full of remorse, but no one seems to hear you as the situation goes haywire.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen!

Seokjin is immediately on his feet. “I’ll drive you there, you guys clean up here okay?” he commands urgently and as you feel the guilt overwhelming you, you stand up form your spot in an instant.

“I’ll come with!” your voice trembles as you reach for your bag while Jimin and Seokjin help Dinah out of the apartment hurriedly.

But as soon as you speak Jimin’s furious eyes are on you.

“I think you’ve done enough.”

And then he slams the door behind them.

You’re left staring at the piece of wood with trembling eyes, as Ana and Hoseok simply stare at you, Hoseok’s eyes wide in shock as yours while Ana’s are filled with disappointment.

You. Fucking. Idiot.

.

.

It’s almost four hours later when Jimin and Seokjin return, finding only Hoseok in the living room waiting for them as he asks them how it went.

But Jimin doesn’t bother answering him as he instead marches with loud, angry steps towards your room.

On the other side of the door, your nails are nearly non-existent from all the nervous thinking that has plagued your mind for the last few hours. Your texts to both of them asking how Dinah was, were left unanswered and you were left brewing in your own nerves.

Until the door opens and Jimin walks in.

You freeze in your spot once your eyes meet his and see the undecipherable expression on his face.

You only manage to mumble a guilt-ridden “hi” and he closes the door behind him as he closes his eyes and takes a deep, calming breath.

Although it seems to not do much.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!”

Your answer is immediate, full of regret. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Is she okay?” you ask, out of your wits with panic as you wait for him to answer.

He seems too tired, too exhausted as he responds. “They gave her an antihistamine, she’ll be fine,” he says with a sigh but then his eyes are full of rage as they rest on you again. “But do you realize what might have happened if we were a bit late?! She could have died!” he yells at you, voice full of unbridled outrage as his eyes grow even more with the passing of time and you feel smaller and smaller.

“I’m sorry!-” you repeat again, feeling incredibly awful with what you’ve done, “-I thought she was just lactose intolerant, not allergic!” you say in hopes of redeeming yourself even just a bit but maybe this wasn’t the right thing to say as it seems Jimin’s anger only grows.

“This isn’t the fucking point, Y/N!”, you flinch at the volume of his voice, “The point is you've been trying to sabotage this for weeks! You think I haven't seen the side-glances and the mocking giggles?! I fucking know you don’t like her but couldn’t you just pretend for my sake? Do you have to go to such lengths to let us all know you hate her?!” he spits at you with wild eyes and you fight the urge to wrap your arms around your frame.

“I didn’t poison her on purpose…” you mumble in explanation and your eyes stare at your feet, not daring to look at him, drowning in shame.

“No, but all the other things were!” he refutes with impatience, but then he sighs. His shoulders fall down but his jaw’s still clenched. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? I know what she did better than anyone, believe me, but people are allowed a second chance, and frankly, it’s not your place to decide if she deserves it or not. All I was asking of you was to be decent towards her because I was stupid enough to think you’re my friend above everything and you’d respect my wishes!” he confesses, face crest-fallen and what you once feared, -him looking like this because of you-, has finally come true. You can feel your eyes watering but you can do nothing to stop them.

“I am your friend!” you respond desperately with pleading eyes, trying to stop him from questioning how much he means to you. If only he knew exactly how much.

“Are you really?”, he questions back, “Because the rest of the guys are my friends too and they don’t have a problem with her. It’s just you! And if you can’t accept her and be happy for me then…” he stops, eyes falling on the floor, refusing to meet your gaze and you have an awful feeling blooming in the pit of your stomach.

“...Then we’re better off as just roommates,” he delivers the final blow.

You can’t believe your ears. There’s no way, no way.

You feel your throat closing up. “...You don’t mean that…” you mumble in denial, eyes blurry and voice almost breaking at the possibility of losing your best friend.

Jimin still refuses to look at you, his lips pursed as he shakes his head. “Yeah? And you said you’ll support me no matter what so I guess we both said things we don’t mean.”

“Or I guess that was just you,” he says in a final tone, eyes serious this time on you before he turns towards your door to leave your bedroom. To leave your life.

You can’t breathe.

“Jimin-” you manage to stutter out although you feel like choking. You can’t lose him, you simply can’t.

“No, Y/N, you can’t just-!” he snaps back but stops himself before saying anything else, pressing his lips together.

Then he takes another breath. He collects himself and before you manage to stop him, he closes the door on his way out with a loud bang.

And you can’t move. Your eyes simply stare at the door, refusing to let any tear drop and you purse your lips, feeling a mixture of stubbornness and sorrow.

He left. How could he? How could he push you aside for her?! You’ve been friends for a little more than five years now and he ruins your friendship because of her?! Her?!

You rush to lock the door behind him with blurry eyes, putting the blame on him as for now you need this to stay sane.

Tomorrow you’ll know that everything was your fault.

But for now, you choose to believe otherwise.

You step back from your door, crossing your arms on your chest in defiance.

“If he doesn’t want to be friends then we won’t be!” you exclaim in an attempt to salvage your broken ego but once those words are out of your mouth, once they finally feel real, you can’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks.

You have to cover your mouth to drown the sound of your sobs.

You can’t let him hear.

At that moment there’s a knock on your door, before “Y/N? It’s Seokjin, can I come in?”

His voice is quiet, calm, reminding you that he and Hoseok probably heard everything. You can’t deal with it. You can’t deal with any of it.

“Go away, Seokjin…” you mumble with a low voice in order to hide the fact you’re crying.

You hear him sighing. “Come one, at least talk to me-”

“Go away!” your voice is coarse as you yell back, for a second not realising it was you. You know you're gonna regret yelling at him later, but you just want to be alone.

There’s silence on the other side. Then the echoing steps of someone leaving.

And then you break down in the middle of your room.

Alone.

The only sound coming from your quiet sobs.

.

.

{Jimin’s POV}

Keep it together. Don’t lose focus now just because she looks like she’s about to cry.

It’s easier said than done, but Jimin manages to remain focused on what he came here to do. Even if it’s just barely.

He can’t go on like this. Maybe if you were happy for him and actually supported him, things would be different. But when you act like a spoiled baby that didn’t get her wish with no excuse whatsoever when you were supposed to be okay with Dinah… there’s not much he can do.

Not when your behaviour acts as a false beacon of hope. One he can’t afford to see. Otherwise, he might do something he can’t take back.

He’s got to be firm and decisive.

So he turns around to leave before he takes it all back.

“Jimin-” he hears the breaking in your voice, knowing how much this may weigh you down but all he can feel right now is unfairness. It’s unfair how he wants to move on but with one single word he finds his resolve crumbling.

You shouldn’t affect him this much.

“No, Y/N, you can’t just-!” he begins but stops himself. What was he about to say? Something he shouldn’t, probably.

Still, you stop talking. And you just stare at him, with disbelief written in your eyes. He avoids those in favour of staying true to his words.

There’s no saying what he’ll do if he meets them.

So, he simply leaves your bedroom.

Marching through the small distance between your door and his, he can see Hoseok and Seokjin, from the corner of his eyes, staring.

They probably heard everything.

He steps into his bedroom, closing the door behind him, needing some space. To calm down, to take a breath, to finally think about what he just did.

You looked like you were ready to break down at any moment.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been that harsh with you. Maybe he was a bit too hasty, too vengeful in making that decision.

Someone knocks on his door.

What if it’s you?

His steps can’t take him to his door any faster.

But it’s just Hoseok.

“... what?” he hears himself get defensive once he sees your door still closed shut behind the other man.

Hoseok stares at him with understanding. “It doesn’t have to be like that, Jimin…” he comments with a soft voice, always knowing how to approach Jimin when he’s angry, better than anyone.

Jimin sighs, still feeling stubborn but he knows by the end of what Hoseok has to say, he’ll almost certainly listen.

“... Let’s talk about it okay? I’m sure Y/N wants that too…” at those words Jimin swears he feels a small pinch of pain on his chest. He wishes they’re true.

“Seokjin is also gonna talk to her…”

But those words manage to bring his stubbornness back full force.

There’s a chuckle coming out of Jimin but none of it sounds happy.

“Of course he will…” he snaps at Hoseok, who bites his lip once he realises his mistake. “Yeah, Hoseok, I think I’ll pass,” the bitterness is evident in his words, not bothering to hide it from the one person that knows the cause of it.

Hoseok’s eyes widen once he realises Jimin is about to close the door on him. “Wait, Jimin, don’t-”

“Goodnight,” is what Jimin simply says before closing the door on his best friend.

.

.

He can’t be sure when everything began to change. He can’t place a finger on the exact moment his feelings had changed.

On the exact moment, he fell in love with you.

Was it the moment you walked through the door as a roommate applicant? He can’t be sure. But somewhere along the way, the feelings bloomed, outgrew everything he ever felt for anyone.

He just was a bit late at realizing it.

When he woke up after you slept together and his eyes rested on you as you slept, he felt a pain in the middle of his chest. But it didn’t feel like a regular pain, it felt like his heart was expanding like he was experiencing growing pains. Because while he stared at you, he realised there was nothing else he’d rather do. You looked so serene, so at peace sleeping next to him, he never wanted the moment to end.

And that’s how he realised.

Of course, he had to push his newly-found knowledge aside when he saw you nearly going into panic mode. Just because he felt like this, didn’t mean you did too.

So he hid those feelings, playing it cool for the sake of being your friend.

But this shit was difficult when he was surrounded by you twenty-four-seven.

Right before Seokjin’s birthday he had sworn he’d finally tell you. He thought that maybe, just maybe you’d like him back, or at least he’d get to have a weight lifted off his chest.

But then he saw you hugging Seokjin…

He wasn’t trying to spy on you or anything. He was just trying to reach the bathroom when he saw you wrapping your arms around Seokjin. Around the guy you had a crush on for the past few years. It was like a stab to his stomach, even more so when he knew you weren’t really into hugs and when you did hug someone, it usually meant a lot to you.

Jimin couldn’t believe his eyes. He also couldn’t believe how much it hurt and how much he needed something to distract himself.

Or, rather, someone.

That’s how Dina came along.

He never intended to string her along this far though. At that night she was just a distraction, someone familiar who knew how to take care of him, despite everything that had transpired between them in the past.

But Dinah kept trying, kept fighting vigorously for that second chance and he couldn’t help but acknowledge how much she’d changed over the past year. So he let her back into his life, hoping that at least she’d help him forget about you.

And it worked for some time. Until that night.

Until the night you were supposed to go on a date with Seokjin and cancelled it because of him - he’s sure of it even if you vehemently denied it back then-. The night you were dressed on that tight, little, black dress, the one that reminded him of that night eight months ago and suddenly his mind was going haywire with thoughts, or rather, memories of you.

He swears he saw hunger in your eyes when his palm was on your thigh, scorching both of you at the connected spot and if it wasn’t for Hoseok’s interruption, he was sure he’d’ve lost control.

Jimin hates to admit it but that night he kept thinking of you, of your eyes, of your lips, of the way your thighs had fit around his waist back then, of the sound of his name falling from your lips as he touched himself, trying to drown his moans onto his pillow.

He couldn’t talk to you after that for a couple of days. Too ashamed, too embarrassed, too enamoured with you, he thought you’d be able to see right through him.

But once things got back to normal, they were ruined once more.

Dinah appeared at the worst of times at New Year’s. He was so close to letting you know how he feels, encouraged by your reaction when you ditched your date for him, which was another green light for him at the moment. But Dinah showed up and you were out of there before he even got a chance to explain.

Hoseok had found him then, drinking away his sorrows.

“And the worst of all is, she’s dating Seokjin, which I now realise makes me a big jerk and an awful friend as I keep trying to steal away his girlfriend,” Jimin mumbled before downing the rest of his drink.

Hoseok seemed perplexed but that might have been from the near-alcohol-poisoning he just had before Dr. Ana “nursed” him back to health. “And remind me, how are you sure she’s dating Seokjin? They haven’t told us anything yet…”

Jimin stared into his drink, already sort of tipsy on alcohol and self-pity. “Saw ‘em huggin’...” he mumbled behind the glass. Hoseok had to do a double-take at that.

“What?” Hoseok responded in disbelief. “That’s it? Dude, I do that with Seokjin all the time, that doesn’t mean I’m dating him!”

Jimin sighed in annoyance. “It was more than that okay? There was this feeling to it! I could tell it wasn’t just a simple hug!” Jimin groaned as he rubbed his face with his hand.

Hoseok rolled his eyes at his friend. “Still you can never be sure by just a hug! Have you talked to her?”

“No, I tried to but Dinah came in and she left as soon as she saw her…” Jimin admitted and Hoseok almost laughed out loud at his friend’s idiocy.

“Bro, if that isn’t a sign to talk to her, then I’m not dating the most bomb person in the whole ass world.”

Jimin wasn’t impressed as he cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

Hoseok wasn’t deterred. “I can see you have an objection here and it’s a complete disgrace to Ana’s name, so Imma pound you to logic city later, you limp dick, but right now you need to talk to Y/N!” he concluded as he shoved Jimin out of his stool.

Jimin groaned as he stood up, but as his eyes fell to the bottom of his drink, he realised Hoseok was right. He should’ve talked to you first. Maybe he had misunderstood and there was nothing going on with Seokjin.

And right then as he saw you bumping into Seokjin, he figured it was a great opportunity to find out what was happening between the two of you from both parties involved.

But as his steps got him closer and closer, he saw you kiss him.

He froze. He couldn’t look, couldn’t bear, but still, his eyes stayed glued to the both of you as your arms circled around his neck to press him closer.

Jimin felt like vomiting.

He turned around right then and there and walked away. He needed to get out of there. He gave Dinah a half-assed apology as he also sent her on her merry way and he left for his apartment. He couldn’t even tell Hoseok why he was leaving the party, only announcing his departure and disappearing.

It was the first time in years he spent New Year’s alone.

He hated it.

.

.

{Y/N’s POV}

You’ve done the worst sleep in ages.

You rub your eyes, immediately regretting it when the slightest touch has them stinging from how swollen they are from all the crying.

Right. It wasn’t just a dream.

You drag your feet begrudgingly across the floor to the bathroom to splurge some water on your face, in a futile attempt to calm down your puffy eyes. Before you’re off to the kitchen where Hoseok is currently eating his breakfast cereal.

Once he hears the sound of footsteps, he raises his head, only to see you awkwardly walk in the kitchen, eyes downcast as you go for the fridge.

“Hey,” you hear him say.

With your face facing the inside of the fridge you take a breath, letting the low temperature calm you down.

You knew it was coming. Hoseok definitely listened to everything along with Seokjin. And yet you don’t feel like replying.

Nonetheless, you turn around and acknowledge him with a tilt of your head as you move to have the coffee machine working.

“So… How you feeling?”

The question prompts a humourless chuckle out of you and Hoseok sighs in response.

“I know, that’s a lousy question. I just…” he takes a breath, eyes gentle on you, not at all judgemental as you’d expect them, after what you’ve done yesterday, “I mean I know Jimin’s side of the story, but I never heard yours…” he concludes, letting a soft smile take over his features.

Huh. Your side of the story.

You swallow the lump in your throat, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you resolve to looking down at the floor as your hands grab tightly at your empty cup.

Hoseok, sensing your hesitation, sighs resigned but he doesn’t push you on it.

A moment passes when both of you remain silent until your coffee is ready. You pour the liquid into your cup, almost moaning in relief you don’t have to stay here another second.

But before you get to leave Hoseok speaks up again.

“I know things may look like a mess right now but I’m sure this won’t be the case forever. Jimin… yeah, he’s mad but you're his best friend. He’s gonna change his mind soon…” Hoseok’s gentle words reach you and, oh god, how do you want to believe them.

You turn to look at him and see the hope written in his eyes.

You give him what might have resembled a smile if you weren’t feeling so beat-down.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me Hobi…” you whisper and Hoseok’s face falls just a bit at how broken you sound.

“Things will change, I’m certain of it,” still he replies, eyes full of determination that make the slightest sliver of hope go through the cracks of your sorrow.

Right then another pair of footsteps echoes as Jimin walks into the kitchen.

His sudden arrival has you both freeze, eyes resting on the newcomer and while Hoseok keeps on looking at Jimin, you’re quick to avert your gaze, the lump in your throat growing.

A second passes where Jimin doesn’t move forward or backwards. Like he isn’t sure if you could be in the same room anymore after yesterday's events. Your heart pangs at the thought.

He coughs awkwardly.

“I didn’t know you were awake, I can come back later-” he begins softly, eyes avoiding yours as well, making the pain grow a little sharper.

“No, it’s okay, I was done anyway…” you interrupt him, hands gripping tightly at your steaming cup as if it is a life board.

And without another word, you’re out of the kitchen.

.

.

{Hoseok’s POV}

A week passes by and it seems there’s no hope for reconciliation on the horizon.

Both of you went the extra miles and rearranged your schedules to avoid each other as much as possible. Jimin spends nearly every night at Dinah’s, barely seeing the others and you spend days locked into your room under the pretence of writing, but really you’re just avoiding everyone.

The rest of the guys don’t know what to do anymore.

It’s a Friday afternoon when Hoseok is over at Ana’s place, the mood in his apartment too heavy to bear and he can’t bear this anymore.

“Babe, I’m back, they didn’t have any vinegar chips so I bought oregano instead. Can you imagine the disgrace?” he shouts as soon as he steps back into the apartment, after a small walk to the seven eleven down the street.

But instead of hearing his girlfriend’s welcoming back, he hears her sigh. Then he sees her walk around the corner from the kitchen with her phone pressed to her ear like she’s in a conference call.

“I still don’t understand why won’t you just tell him!” Ana speaks on the phone, sending a tired wave to her boyfriend who looks at her entirely confused.

Hoseok just takes his shoes off and plops himself on the couch, sensing Ana won’t be done with that phone call anytime soon.

There’s a silence from her side as she listens intently to what the other person is saying. Hoseok decides to open the bag of chips just to keep his hands occupied.

After a while, Ana talks again.

“But what if she doesn’t tell him?” she? First, she mentioned a “him” and now a “she”? Hoseok’s getting more confused by the second.

“And what about Jimin then? Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?” her voice is stern, like a mother berating her child and a sound of understanding leaves Hoseok’s lips, as he concludes Ana is talking to you.

There’s a small silence from your side, indicating no response to Ana’s question and so she keeps talking.

“And I’m talking about the whole truth Y/N.”

Hoseok’s intrigued. What whole truth?

“I know I was the first person to be against telling him about your feelings but with how poorly you handled the situation, I don’t think you can possibly make anything worse!”

At that, Hoseok’s eyes blow wide open. Feelings?! What feelings?! 

He’s immediately up, approaching Ana with quick steps as she listens to your response. Your voice, even though muffled through the phone, sounds weaker, sadder. Disheartened.

Ana’s words are softer now. “But you’ll never be able to do this. You’ll never be ready but, the truth is, no one ever is. That’s kinda how it goes and that’s okay. But you gotta do it at some point, sooner or later,” she talks to you calmly, Hoseok sensing her sorrow at hearing you like this.

But he can’t shake the feeling that he can somehow help if he finds out what those feelings are.

Ana sighs tiredly as if what she just said didn’t have much of an impact. “Y/N-” but before she gets to respond you hang up.

Ana gasps while staring at her phone. “She just hung up on me, I can’t believe it, how dare?” she says to no one in particular as she rubs her hands on her face tiredly.

“Tough luck?” Hoseok comments wrapping his hands around her waist. Ana welcomes the embrace, her hands winding around his neck as she rests her head on his shoulder.

“She just won’t listen! She’s so infuriatingly stubborn and it’s driving me nuts!” she blows a stray hair out of her face, accidentally tickling Hoseok’s skin in the process and he chuckles.

“Kinda like you then?” he teases as he finally pushes that stray lock behind her ear and she pokes out her tongue at him in retaliation before falling into peaceful tranquillity.

Hoseok hates to disrupt this but he has to ask her what all of those things meant. For the sake of Jimin.

“Hey, babe…” he begins and Ana hums in acknowledgement.

“When you talked about Y/N’s feelings…” he feels her stiffen in his embrace but nonetheless he carries on, “... what did you mean?”

Ana takes a breath. “I guess there’s no point in not telling you now…” she speaks softly before taking another breath, one Hoseok holds until he hears her answer.

“Y/N… she likes Jimin. Well I mean that’s what she says anyway. I think it’s way more than that…” Ana admits sadly but Hoseok’s mind goes into overdrive.

“Are you serious…?” he asks in what can be perceived as a calm demeanour but in reality, his head is about to explode.

Ana chuckles calmly, still in Hoseok’s embrace. “I know right?”

Oh my god, they’re both idiots, he thinks. But he has to do something now.

“Oh god, those giant baboons!” he almost yells, making Ana flinch and take a step back to look at him perplexed.

“Hoseok…?”

He laughs incredulously as he takes a step back, trying to process the situation.

“For how long?” he asks and Ana looks more weirded out by the second.

“Two months, give or take?” Ana responds with narrowed eyes.

Hoseok chuckles. “That’s…” when Jimin started going out with Dinah, of course, it all makes sense!

“Seriously our friends are the worst idiots ever!” he complains once more.

“Okay, now do you mind telling me what’s going on?” she retaliates, getting irritated with her boyfriend and his tendency of not explaining anything for the dramatics.

“Jimin likes her back!” he shouts out loud, the magnificence of what he found out too overwhelming to bear.

Ana’s eyes widen. “What? How can that be? What about Dinah?”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at her. “He began dating her again after that one night stand that only happened because he saw Y/N hugging Seokj- Wait! What about Seokjin?”

Ana seems confused. “What about Seokjin?”

“Isn’t Y/N dating him?”

Ana almost bursts out in giggles. “What? No! Of course not! Why would you think that?”

“Cause of the hug!”

“So what, a simple hug means automatically they’re dating each other?”

“Well, we all know Y/N hates hugs, plus she had a crush on him so it would be believable- Wait, that’s not the point. So Y/N isn’t dating Seokjin?”

“Nope. Never did,” Ana concludes as both of them fall into the same realization.

“So Jimin did all that stuff…” Ana begins, not quite believing the absurdity of the situation.

“...Because he thought Seokjin was dating Y/N,” Hoseok admits tiredly.

“We gotta tell Jimin,” Ana grabs her phone to punch in his number before Hoseok stops her.

“Wait…” he stares at the phone, the cogs in his mind whirling before his eyes light up.

“I got a better idea.”

.

.

{Jimin’s POV}

Sweat still drips down his forehead as Jimin bids goodbye to his students, after the end of his contemporary class. He reaches for his water bottle and heads for the teachers’ lounge where his stuff is before he gets to his last class.

He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand before pressing the now lukewarm bottle on the nape of his neck, to get some sort of relief.

Once again, his focus wasn’t entirely on the class. It has been like that ever since your fight, but at least it started getting better as time passed. Still not at its best though.

He finds himself feeling guilty more than he thought he would. Guilty towards you, towards Dinah. It’s a mess.

Admittedly, he was really mad at you but as he got to think it over, he realised he acted too rashly in cutting you off. And he misses you already.

But the thing is… you haven't made a move to reconcile either. That could be because you’re afraid of him pushing you away again. But shouldn't you make the first step? If you did, Jimin is sure he would forgive you on the spot.

He shakes his head tiredly as he enters the teachers’ lounge and reaches for his backpack. Everything’s a mess.

And then there’s Dinah. Dinah who’s changed, who’s kind and understanding. Dinah who he strings along and who’s possibly already aware of Jimin’s use of her as a distraction. They both know that, even though Dinah’s changed and everything’s seemingly fine, the relationship is doomed this time around as well.

Although this time it’s Jimin’s fault.

He needs to come clean to her. He has to end this.

Right then his phone begins ringing.

Once he sees the contact name, he’s a little less willing to answer it.

“What do you want?” is his response once he picks up and there’s an awkward chuckle at the other end before the caller finally replies.

“Whoa, okay, forward, can’t you buy me a drink first, champ?” Seokjin tries to make the tension disappear unsuccessfully, resulting in Jimin not even answering that particular quip.

He hears Seokjin sigh on the other side, before “Anyway, can’t I just call my friend to see how he’s doing? It’s been a while since the last time we talked…” the other man admits cautiously and Jimin’s defensiveness slowly ebbs away to give place to additional guilt. He’s the one blowing off all his friends because he wants space. Or more precisely, he thinks, because he’s a coward, too afraid to really deal with the situation, so instead picking the easy way out, at the expense of his friends.

He rubs his face with his hands, before letting out a breath. “Yeah, I know, things have been kind of…” Jimin trails off but Seokjin hums, as if he understands what Jimin means without him having to say it out loud.

“Yeah…” Seokjin agrees quietly and Jimin feels more horrible as time goes by. When did he begin to feel such animosity towards his friend? They used to be really close ever since they worked together at the same shift, and now Jimin can barely be in the same room as him. It’s not Seokjin’s fault in any way and the truth is Jimin’s animosity arises not towards Seokjin but more towards himself.

He has stuff he needs to work on.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about…” comes Seokjin’s response that has Jimin sitting up straight in his seat, terrified of what his friend wants to talk to him about.

And it seems his fears were not unjustified.

“How long have you liked Y/N?”

There it is.

Jimin takes a breath, panic trying to take over him but he wills it to go away and answer his friend. Even if he’s terrified to do so.

“I…” he begins, audible shakiness colouring his voice, “... how do you know?”

Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Hoseok told me…”

Jimin takes another breath, one full of guilt.

“Look, I… I’m sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen, it just did! And I know it’s awful of me to have done this but, yeah, for some time I had thought of acting on it. But now that I know for certain you’re together, I wouldn’t even dream of-”

“First of all, Y/N and I are not together.” Seokjin interrupts the babbling idiot and Jimin stops mid-sentence.

He blinks, uncertain. “I… what?”

Seokjin sighs with a chuckle. “Y/N and I aren’t dating,” he repeats.

Jimin opens his mouth like a fish, in complete and utter shock. “But… but I saw you…” he states full of doubt, almost like a question.

He can almost hear Seokjin raising his eyebrow. “You saw us doing what?”

The lump in his throat doesn’t make this any easier. “I saw you kissing a-a-aand-and hugging!” he retaliates, trying to support his reasoning.

Seokjin sighs once more, the gesture coming off him naturally by now. “Okay, she kissed me because she wanted to avoid a dude she ghosted, I had little to no say in this!” Seokjin responds in a typical Seokjin fashion.

But Jimin has more questions. “A dude she ghosted?”

“Yeah, she was supposed to go on a date with this guy in my restaurant but blew him off for some reason…”

Wait.

“When was this?” Jimin asks, eager but nervous to find out the answer.

“A couple of days before Christmas.”

So that wasn’t a date with Seokjin but just a rando?

God, Jimin has fucked up big time.

“And what about the hug?” he asks for the last time, to make sure he resolves any misunderstanding.

“What hug? Oh, you mean on my birthday? Dude, that was just her coming clean about her past crush on me and us moving past this like a couple of adults.”

Jimin’s throat constricts uncomfortably but in unbelievable hope. “Past crush?”

Seokjin’s smile is nearly audible. “Yeah, “past”. Know why? Because she has feelings for someone else.”

And just as easily as Seokjin has given him hope, he just as easily rips it away.

“Oh…?” Jimin barely manages to utter, voice almost breaking alongside his heart. “Who?”

Seokjin groans on the other side, taking Jimin wholly by surprise by the irritated tone in the older man’s voice. “Oh my god, you really are both idiots,” he says almost to himself, “You, you soggy tit! Do you really think she did all that to Dinah simply because she didn’t like her? No, she was fucking jealous!” Seokjin concludes, voice rushed and angry to berate his friend and finally put an end to this huge mess.

But Jimin hears only one word.

You.

She has feelings for you.

The girl he’s been in love with for nearly a year now, if not more, has feelings for him. Reciprocated feelings.

Is this real? Is this a fucking dream from which he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling shittier than ever?

But Seokjin said she was jealous. Jealous.

“She- She was? Seokjin, just…” he stops himself to take a calming breath, refusing to believe this just yet, “Please, don’t joke about this, I’m not gonna laugh,” he warns his friend. He can’t bear to have his heart messed with any more than it already has been.

“Does it sound like I’m joking? Believe me, I wouldn’t, we’re all too invested in your shit, it’s not healthy.”

Jimin can’t believe this. He wants to, desperately, but what if it’s not real? What then?

“I…” he swallows his nerves, “She really has feelings for me?” he asks, not unlike a hopeful child. God, his heart is about to burst.

“Yeah, buddy, I know it’s hard to believe when I exist!” Seokjin tries to lighten up the mood with a joke.

Jimin doesn’t laugh.

“...Too soon? Sorry, anyway, I thought you should also know Y/N really feels awful for everything and if there’s one thing that can confirm that, is the fact she apologized to Dinah,” Seokjin concludes carefully.

Jimin doesn’t know how to respond.

“But if you don’t believe me… Ask Y/N herself.”

But he knows what to do.

.

.

{Y/N’s POV}

You’re washing the dishes, alone at home for another hour at the very least as Jimin’s classes end in one hour.

Should you go to Ana’s? Ugh, but Hoseok is there.

Maybe you should just hole yourself up in your room for the scarce time Jimin will be here before he’s off to Dinah’s.

Which reminds you of earlier today.

In Dinah’s defence, she handled your apology quite gracefully, in contrast with you. You were a babbling mess, trying to put your thoughts into place and at first, she was suspicious of you, but once your visit made sense, she seemed to understand. Something even you couldn’t at times.

She accepted your apology with a calm smile, confusing you even more as she said she appreciated your effort to put all of this behind you.

You were glad she seemed to not hold it against you although, honestly… you don’t think you deserve it.

You have no idea if she’s planning on telling Jimin or not and quite frankly you’re terrified of what he’ll say if he finds out.

Once you’re done with the dishes and close the tap, you hear the front door open and close, assuming it’s Hoseok back from Ana’s.

“Hobi, is that you?” you ask before turning around, only to almost choke on your own breath when you see Jimin instead.

He’s standing just in front of the door, not going forwards or backwards, as his eyes stare at you. Serious, careful but calm. No anger residing in them. Just awkwardness as he seems to not know what to do with himself, as he simply rests in place and somehow a tiny drop of hope begins to bloom.

“I… Don’t you have classes?” is the first thing you manage to get out of your mouth and he takes a breath.

“I had to get out early…” he responds and you can’t help but focus on the “had to”. Did Dinah talk to him after all?

“...Why?” is your careful question, when in reality your mind is in a state of disarray. Is this a good sign? A bad one? Is he here to restore your friendship to what it used to be or finally cut ties with you and move out?

Your mind is gonna short-circuit.

“I…” he begins, eyes falling to the floor. Then he takes another breath. “I had to talk to you,” he says.

Oh god. This is it. You’re done.

Your throat closes up as you blink quickly trying to stop your eyes from welling up. Damnit, you already cried so much about this, you shouldn��t have any more tears left!

He takes a tentative step forward, eyes finding yours once again. But they look… soft, tender. Apologetic.

“I… I’m sorry. For the way I acted,” he breathes out and your eyes widen, having to do a double-take to make sure you heard right. “I was too harsh on you, basically taking out my nerves on you and even though what you did was awful, I shouldn’t have taken such drastic measures. I took it too far by saying we shouldn’t be friends and I’d like to take it back if you want to…” he concludes, observing you cautiously.

You’re left staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Is he serious? Did he just apologize to you like he was the one at fault?

“Jimin, oh my god, you shouldn’t have to apologize, I should!” you rush to say, instinctively grabbing his hands to soothe him, completely missing the taken aback turned loving look in his eyes.

“I acted way out of line and truth be told I think I needed that as a wake-up call. You were right, what kind of friend am I if I don’t try to get along with the girl you’re dating?” you continue, too self-conscious to be able to look Jimin in the eye, instead staring at your joined hands with a new kind joy.

You got your best friend back. And if keeping him means you have to bury your feelings for him, then you’ll do it. For real this time. Whatever it takes to not lose him again.

Jimin chuckles in response. “Used to date,” he corrects you.

This time though you can’t help it when your eyes snap back at him. “What? What do you mean?”

Where you expected to be a sorrowful expression, there is none. Instead, Jimin is looking at you with a soft smile, a serene one, one that matches the peace in his eyes. “We broke up,” he says and you can’t find the proper words to react to this.

“Oh… H-how so?” you say instead, unwillingly holding your breath.

Jimin’s eyes rest on your face for a moment, that damned smile still gracing his lips, before his eyes fall to your hands. “I guess you helped me realise some things with what you did,” is his cryptic response.

But before you get to question his answer his eyes turn stern, with a note of mischief hiding in their corners. “That does not mean what you did was okay, though,” he says, pointing his finger at you like a teacher disciplining a child and you chuckle at his attempt of lightening up the mood.

“Believe me, I know. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself…” you respond, rubbing a hand awkwardly at the base of your neck, still awfully aware of your other hand still connected to Jimin’s.

“Well…” he says quietly, his eyes on your joined hands, “Good thing I did then…” he mutters, his thumb running over the back of your palm soothingly and once your eyes meet his, you know you’ll be okay.

.

.

After that talk with Jimin, -that ended with the both of you watching Space Jam and cuddling to sleep-, everything is once again back to normal. The past week has been amazing compared to the one before it. You find yourself smiling all the time as your friendship with Jimin is back to its prime, laughter and joy returning to your shared apartment.

Your group returns back to its routine, hanging out together in front of the TV, roasting Hoseok for his abundant sexual energy, you know, the usual.

And yet you feel like something’s changed. More particularly, with Jimin.

You catch his eyes on you more than once, more than what could be considered normal but ever since you made up the two of you haven’t been left alone once. The guys are always around and, really, it’s not like you don’t want them to be but there’s always something hanging from Jimin’s mouth, something he wants to say but never does due to their presence. It’s slightly unnerving, reminding you of that night outside your bedrooms when he wanted to say something but didn't.

You can’t tell if it’s good or bad. All you know is suddenly your knees shake when he looks at you for too long and you have goosebumps whenever his skin touches yours.

So that’s why tonight you chose to sit on the lone armchair as he sits next to Hoseok on the big couch and Ana is placed next to Seokjin on the small one.

Somehow the conversation managed to go on that New Year’s party and Seokjin ended up spilling about your kiss.

“You said “we take this to the grave”!” you respond with a low voice, trying to mimic him unsuccessfully as Ana and Hoseok stare at you with eyes wide as saucers. Jimin, for some reason, looks unresponsive to the news yet he laughs at your bad impression of Seokjin.

Seokjin at least has the decency to look guilty as Ana’s scandalized eyes turn to you. “You kissed?!”

You raise your hands in defence, for some reason avoiding to look over at Jimin. “I didn’t do it on purpose! Well… I kinda did but not with the motive you’d assume,” you rush to explain, though Ana is less than satisfied.

“Oh then with what motive? Please amuse me, hoe,” she responds, crossing her hands on her chest and you huff out in annoyance.

Seokjin answers her. “Well, obviously, she wanted a piece of all that. I’m pretty irresistible to all humankind,” he jokes lightly and you suppress a snort.

“Yeah, no, this ain’t it, chief,” you rush to say, suddenly nervous, not wanting anyone to think you’re still into Seokjin.

Actually, replace “anyone” with just “Jimin”.

Seokjin gasps in offence. “What in the world do you even mean?! You’re lucky I kissed you and not just because you got rid of that dude! I’m a pretty good kisser, no scratch that, I’m an excellent kisser, a connoisseur of kissing if you will!”

“I think I won’t be able to kiss anyone after that…” Hoseok responds which makes Seokjin gasp once more before he looks over at you.

“Y/N, tell them the truth. How my kissing is so utterly magnificent, it could end world hunger!” he says before actually hearing what he just said then deciding against it, “Nope, can’t do that, sorry, that’s on me.”

You chuckle at his antics, although a bit reluctant to actually reveal the truth.

“Actually…” you start.

Another gasp resonates. “Don’t “actually” me! Just tell them!”

You turn to the other guys with a roll of your eyes.

“Look, it’s not like you were a bad kisser per se. It’s just that it was a bit… lackluster?” you finish, almost afraid to see Seokjin’s reaction to the reveal.

Jimin suppresses a chuckle, Hoseok oohs from the side and Ana’s eyes widen in surprise.

Seokjin looks at you with disbelief.

“Lackluster?”

You rush to make amends. “I mean it’s okay given I took you by surprise, but due to that crush I used to have on you, I had this notion of a kiss full of passion. And that one just… didn’t have it.” 

Seokjin pouts angrily at you before crossing his arms on his chest as Ana pats his shoulder soothingly. “I can’t believe you just said my kiss didn’t have any passion.”

You shrug. “Well, it didn’t,” you say as a matter of a fact before Ana jumps into the conversation.

“It’s probably a good thing your kiss didn’t have any passion, it just means your friends. No chemistry there so don’t beat yourself up too much, champ,” she says with an affectionate pinch on Seokjin’s cheek, who ponders on her input.

“Yeah, Ana is right!” you rush to agree. “It’s because we’re just friends! When you find someone you really like, believe me, it’ll be nothing like that,” you go off track a bit as certain memories reappear. “It’ll be full of passion and yearning and not getting enough of each other, you’re not sure if you can go on without kissing them!”

And somehow by the end of that, your eyes fall on Jimin’s and stay there.

Because he stares back.

“Okay, I think we heard enough about Seokjin’s kissing techniques,” Ana comments, breaking the spell and your eyes fall to your lap, fire residing in your cheeks.

“I just have one last comment on what I think Seokjin could’ve used but didn’t cause he’s a wuss,” Hoseok jumps in.

“Tongue.”

A round of gagging noises is heard around the apartment.

.

.

The hours pass by smoothly and soon everyone’s getting sleepy. Seokjin leaves early, having to go to the restaurant first thing in the morning, leaving the rest of you to clean up.

Once again Jimin picks up the trash with Ana as Hoseok helps you do the dishes. The apartment falls into a comfortable silence with the occasional chatter between the four of you while you clean up. Hoseok is to sleepover at Ana’s so when you’re all done the couple bids you goodbye, heading to Ana’s apartment.

Leaving you and Jimin totally alone.

Which is something that shouldn’t scare you but for some reason your nerves are going through the roof.

“Are you done with the kitchen?” Jimin asks from the living room, where he’s rearranging the pillows on the couch.

“Yeap! Just finished!” you call back, your voice a bit higher than usual and you cringe internally before clearing your throat.

“Good, I’m going to bed then,” he responds as you walk out of the kitchen.

“I’ll walk with you,” you respond with a smile, following him into the corridor.

You walk in comfortable silence, but still, you find yourself getting nervous as you walk side by side. It doesn’t make any sense.

Once you reach your bedrooms, both of you turn around to face each other, seemingly unwilling to depart just yet. Jimin looks at you with a soft smile as you grab at the opportunity to talk to him.

“Jimin, I just… I’m really happy we got past that and again I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused,” you say in what seems like the hundredth apology this week.

Jimin’s smile grows fonder as he shakes his head gently. “I told you, you should stop apologizing, I’m no longer mad at you,” is his quiet reply as he tilts his head, his eyes staring at you in a way it makes your heart race.

“I know I just… That week we spent not talking to each other was the worst week of my life and I…” you pause searching for the right words, but no words could ever describe the magnificence of what you’re feeling right now, the desperation of wanting to have him in your life. So you simply stare at him, out of breath, hoping he gets it.

His smile is one of the best things you’ve ever seen and you know he does.

You smile back. “Anyway, I’ve gotten too sentimental…” you chuckle, clearing your voice to sound more collected.

Jimin giggles softly. “Happens to the best of us…” he responds gently and you have to remind yourself to not stare. Even if he does and it makes you feel out of breath.

You nod with a smile. “Well…” you respond nervously, yearning for the moment you’re alone in your room, free of all this tension. “Goodnight,” you say simply, turning around to get to your door.

But a hand wraps itself around your wrist, turning you around suddenly. Your hands naturally fall to Jimin’s chest as his palms wrap around your waist and hair as his lips fall fervently on yours.

Your mind goes into overdrive and you can only kiss him back.

His plump lips wrap around your own softly but with an intense sense of urgency, a soft gasp falling from your lips as your hands are quick into grabbing his shirt to pull him unbelievably closer. You respond with just as much hunger, letting your mouth move fervently against his own, pushing more and more against him, aiding his hand that’s tangled in your hair, gripping the locks as if he can’t get enough. Then both of his palms are on the small of your back, holding you close as if fearing you’ll leave. But you never do and that makes him press more against you until your back hits the wall next to your door.

The impact makes Jimin lean back just enough to stop the kiss, but his eyes still remain glued to the image of your swollen lips, as you almost lean after his own.

Your heavy breaths mingle in the otherwise quiet corridor, his hands still on your waist, yours still on his open shirt as you try to wrap your mind around what just happened.

“Did you mean something like that?” comes out his gruff, deep voice that sends a shiver down your spine.

His question brings you back to the earlier conversation about a perfect kiss and you can’t control your breathing any more than your beating heart.

You nod quickly, eyes still on his lips. “Yes,” is your breathless answer.

Jimin’s still breathing heavily as his eyes land once again on your lips.

“Good.”

And then he’s kissing you again.

And, fuck, you can’t get enough.

Your palms land on his neck as you stand on your toes to reach him better and his hands wrap around your waist to keep you in place.

Fuck, you’re kissing him. You’re kissing him and he’s kissing you back. As if he’s a man starved of your kiss and he needs anything you can give him.

But then he stops again and you almost groan out loud.

“You need to stop doing that…” you exhale with an affected chuckle and he chuckles as well.

“I just… I need to talk to you before anything else happens….” he whispers and even though you know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, you can’t help but feel a pang of fear in your chest.

“I…” he says, eyes dazedly looking at your face before he takes an encouraging breath.

“I want you to know that this isn’t like last time. It’s more, it means more, I-” he stops once more, voice trembling as he refuses to look anywhere else but you.

His words give you hope but for the first time in weeks, you welcome that hope. You welcome that glorious feeling to settle deep in your chest because you recognize that warm glint deep in his eyes.

“I’m in love with you,” he reveals and you swear your heart will burst. There’s moisture in your eyes but you will it to go away.

“You are…?” you ask with a small voice and Jimin smiles at you, all happiness and comfort. There’s a fuzzy feeling in the middle of your chest and at this moment nothing makes any more sense than you two.

“Yes. And I spent the past year trying to run from it…” he admits carefully as he slightly crouches down to meet your eyes.

“I’m not running anymore…” he concludes, a spark in his eyes and you’ve never seen him more sure for anything in his life.

There’s a whirlwind of emotions in you. Relief, hope, undeniable joy. It makes your throat close and for a few seconds, you can’t answer him. You only stare back and hope he understands like so many times before.

“I-” you manage to choke out with a weak voice but he’s quick to shush you, before kissing the inside of your palm.

“I know…” he responds softly, still holding onto your palm as his eyes find yours. You can’t look away, couldn’t if you wanted to.

And then you can’t stop smiling, and he’s smiling back and before you know it you’re kissing again.

Happiness rolls like a current between, from all the places your bodies touch, you can’t contain it so you keep on kissing fervidly, hands touching whenever they can, mouths moving in tandem like it’s natural. Like it’s the way it’s supposed to be.

“God, I have so much I want to tell you…” he whispers against your lips before he’s diving back in, tongue reaching out to meet yours.

“Me too…” you reply after a few seconds, pushing him closer as your fingers tangle in his hair. “But not now…” you whisper sternly, pushing your chest against him, needing to feel more of him.

He curses under his breath, the sound sinful, licking his lips before he’s kissing you again and his hands fall lower down your back to rest over the swell of your ass.

You moan in appreciation when his hands grab at the tender flesh, making you arch out so he has better leverage. There’s a throbbing between your legs and you resist grinding on him just yet, to drag it out as long as you can.

Jimin’s lips move down the column of your throat as his body cages you against the wall, hands keeping your hips still as he wedges one leg between yours, so his thigh can press upright against your mound.

You moan again when he leaves a particularly deep hickey on your skin and your hips instinctively roll against his thigh, your hands holding on to his back afraid you might fall.

He chuckles darkly against your skin. “Still into thighs I see…” he mumbles before biting softly at your earlobe, a shiver running down your spine.

You bite your lip before, “Correction, still into your thighs…” you admit as you roll your hips slowly on top of his thigh, starting to feel that delicious warmth building up in your stomach, making you feel dizzy.

Jimin almost bucks into you with a low moan, as his hands are certain to leave marks on your hips as he struggles to remain sane.

“Fuck… Although I’m really tempted to just fuck you here, we should probably move…” he murmurs between kisses to your collarbone and you have half a sane mind to agree. The other half is already picturing him doing it either way.

But before you get to move, his arms are quicker, lunging under your thighs and you instinctively wrap them around his waist with a surprised yelp. His palms are resting right on top of your ass, subconsciously pushing you closer, making your insides burn in anticipation.

There’s a smirk on his lips as he licks them, eyes roaming your face to make sure you don’t have second doubts. Although your eyes are glued to the movement of his wet tongue.

When he realises this, he’s quick to move towards his room as you choose now as the perfect moment to lick and suck bruises on his neck, not able to deny yourself any longer.

“Shit… Y/N, if you keep this up I’m gonna drop you…” he mumbles with a stern but clearly-affected voice and you smile in victory before softly biting at his skin, savouring his taste on your tongue.

He kicks his door open before he carefully lays you on his bed, lips immediately after your own as you reach for his neck to desperately press more of him against you.

Your palms move down his chest, grabbing the edges of his flannel to push it off his shoulders, leaving him in his T-shirt and jeans.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes…?” you ask breathlessly, immediately reconnecting your lips like a woman starved and Jimin chuckles, grabbing the hem of your T-shirt instead and pushing it upwards. You sigh in relief as soon as your heated skin is free, yearning to feel more of his skin against yours.

“Just trying to keep myself warm,” he comments rushedly as he discards the piece of clothing somewhere behind him and his eyes fall to your covered breasts. He curses, lowering his face to kiss down your collarbones until his lips reach the bare top of your tits. His mouth leaves a wet trail behind that’s making you gasp as your thighs rub together to gain some relief.

Jimin notices and chuckles darkly before biting your bottom lip. “You want any help there?” he teases and you groan out loud with a pout.

“Yes, but please take your clothes off a little bit faster. It’s making my dick soft,” you whine, bucking your hips towards him.

He pins them down between his own legs, forcing them to stay still. His fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings as your breaths turn heavier while only looking at his eyes.

“Aw, so I won’t have my ass rawed by your dick? Such a shame baby…” he teases once more with a sinful smirk and the last word has your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Fuck, say that again…” you murmur, arching your chest upwards as you feel moisture gather between your legs, just by the single mention of a nickname.

Jimin laughs out loud as he moves to get your leggings off and you’re quick to aid him. “Is this really what turns you on?” he comments playfully as he leans in, lips kissing the underside of your jaw.

“No, I meant…” you stop, suddenly self-conscious, “... the other part…” you mumble quietly, turning your face to the side, knowing a deep red has taken over your cheeks. It’s not simply about the nickname or the tenderness in his voice as he said it. It’s about what it represents, what you already heard from his lips but you simply can’t have enough of. It makes everything real.

Jimin regards you for a second before, “What? Baby?” he asks, rather innocently and yet you still can’t look at him, too embarrassed as you nod.

Jimin’s eyes turn softer as he bites his lip to contain his smile. Fuck, he’s so in love.

He moves to press a tender kiss to your jaw. “Baby,” he repeats slowly, before resting his lips on your collarbones and you sigh in content. “Baby…” he says again, leaving a kiss in the valley between your breasts, making your breath hitch. “Baby…” he moves lower, dragging his plump lips down your torso as your breaths quicken, the sound of the nickname having your heart making somersaults.

“Baby…” he whispers lowly one last time, the tone completely different, darker, more promising. His eyes rest on you as his face now lays above your panties. Then his hands are hooking behind the waistband, dragging the material down your legs and he bites his lips at the sight of your glistening folds.

“God, I wanna taste you so bad…” he says almost to himself and before you get to react, he hooks your legs on top of his shoulders and his tongue lands with kittenish licks on your clit.

An involuntary groan escapes you, bucking your hips into his mouth for more. And yet he maintains his pace, sending waves of pleasure up your body but never enough to get you where you want to. You can’t help the movement of your hips as you crave for more friction, his movements delicious but never enough. Jimin pins your hips down, tsking you before he presses a kiss at the junction between your thigh and cunt.

“You’ll get what you want, baby, all in due time…” he says sternly, his voice low, sending shivers down your spine as his mouth returns to your clit, and you bite your lip to drown your moan.

Though now, he leaves aside the kittenish lick to wrap his mouth around the swollen nub and suck it between his lips.

A loud moan breaks free from your lips, heavy pants resonating as his plush lips envelop your clit, finally giving you more, moving expertly against your folds and your hands find purchase on Jimin’s locks to press him more against you.

He lets you do as you please while one of his hands travels up your torso, pushing your bra’s cups down to toy with one of your nipples.

The added pleasure has you cry his name in ecstasy, losing all control of your hips as they move against Jimin’s face, as if they have a mind of their own, chasing after your high like a madwoman.

And as one hand tugs at your erect nipples, the other finds this chance to move down your body and trace around your entrance, making your pussy clench in anticipation. Before finally pushing two digits inside your velvety walls.

“Jimin!” you almost sob, your hips furiously chasing after your high as you feel the warmth building up more and more inside your stomach. 

His fingers keep thrusting inside you, slowly at first to let you get used to the intrusion, before he picks up the pace, moving them quickly, roughly inside you. Knuckles deep as his fingertips find that little soft spot inside your walls that has your eyes roll to the back of your head.

And when you open your eyes and see Jimin staring you back with darkness and lust in his own from between your legs, the band snaps.

You come with a loud moan, riding your orgasm against Jimin’s tongue, as the pleasure seems too much, too intense. But then the feeling starts to fade away and Jimin lets you relax as he leaves butterfly kisses against your thighs.

You try to catch your breath as Jimin’s kisses move upwards, up your stomach, to your breasts until he’s kissing you again. Your hands move to wrap around his neck, never having quite enough of him.

“This is not fair, you know…” you chastise him playfully, kissing his underjaw when a quiet moan rolls from his tongue.

“What’s not fair?” he asks, trying to keep up with the conversation but judging by the way his hip rut against you, you know he’s struggling.

“The fact I’m completely naked while you still have your clothes on…” you observe with a cock of your eyebrow and a smirk grazes his lips as his finger tugs at the elastic of your bra and lets it snap against your skin.

“Ah but you’re not completely naked…” he teases against your lips as his fingers move down your body in a sensual caress.

But being you, you take that as a challenge. So you push him slightly away just so you can move your hands behind your back and unclasp your bra with one movement.

Jimin’s eyes go wide as you flick the undergarment across the room, swallowing heavily before his eyes return to your bare chest.

“Now I am…” is your witty retort as you subtly arch your back just so he can have a better view. He stands there staring at you for a few seconds before he curses and moves quickly to get rid of his clothes.

You giggle at his impatience when he ends up stuck in his T-shirt, sporting an adorable pout. “Easy, baby, I’m not going anywhere…” you joke, sitting up to help him take off his t-shirt with a soft smile, one he reciprocates as he moves to unbuckle his pants.

“Well, it wasn’t me getting too impatient to- Wait…” he stops mid-sentence after taking his pants off. A spark of realization has entered his eyes before he turns to you to meet you with a teasing smile.

“Did you just call me baby?”

Your eyes widen in shock as a blush creeps into your cheeks and with a scoff you lightly shove him for daring to make fun of you.

“Y-you said it first, genius!” you try to justify yourself with a frown, but Jimin’s smirk only grows as he pushes aside his pants and crawls towards you.

“Yeah, but I’m not the one that spent more than half her life refusing to call her partners that because it’s cheesy…” he comments playfully as he traps you beneath his body once more.

“Even if the rule never applied to her…” he smiles teasingly at you, brushing his lips softly against your pout, reminding you that even if you never called your partners “baby”, you never stopped them from calling you that.

You purse your lips together as you look at your fidgeting hands, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “Well…” you begin, swallowing the lump in your throat, “...you’re different…” you mumble quietly, not really ready to look at him even if you know he feels the same.

That has him halting, and as he sees you too uncomfortable to go on, he doesn’t say anything else. He presses a soft kiss to your knee instead, wishing to convey everything he feels as well through that small kiss.

The movement of his lips on your skin is so tender that has your heart flutter and, while he looks back at you, his smile puts your embarrassment to rest. Because he’s here for you because he feels the same.

“I know it comes a little late but… Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, eyes stuck on your face, tracing your features as if he hasn’t really seen you before, not until now.

The question has your heartbeat quicken even though it’s completely unnecessary. Though your lips stretch out in a smile as you nod.

Jimin leans closer, eyes on your lips as if he’s under some spell. You suppose it’s the same you’re under.

You let his lips envelop yours gently, hands tangling in his hair as you both find yourselves moving back until you’re lying down with Jimin on top of you.

Your hands are greedy to explore his body, even though you’ve done so before. Though that time you’re main motive was to get off, so now gives you the perfect opportunity to get reacquainted with his body, to map out every little detail to memory, until he’s the only thing you see.

His lips move lower to kiss and bite at the column of your throat, eliciting the sweetest moan from your lips that sound like music to Jimin’s ears.

Your breaths get quicker, hands moving recklessly to get rid of the remaining piece of fabric that separates you. Jimin rushes to help you, throwing away his boxers, now standing in his complete naked glory.

There’s nothing else to say, not really when a single look can convey everything you feel without unnecessary words. And the way Jimin looks at you right now makes you feel like you’re in heaven. Like you’re cared for, safe and content right here in his arms.

His hand brushes a lock behind your ear and the motion is so tender, loving, it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Are you ready?” he whispers softly, eyes gentle, ready to back off if you say so, reminding you of yet another reason you’re so helplessly in love with him.

You simply nod, too afraid to talk but your smile is all it takes for Jimin to go forward.

He grabs the base of his shaft, eyes glued at that spot between your legs with anticipation. He moves forward, guiding his tip through your folds, going slowly in case it’s painful but the look of pure bliss on your face and the way your walls welcome his cock has him losing control and going the rest of the way in with a deep thrust.

Your nails claw into the skin of his back with a loud cry while Jimin breathes deeply against the skin of your neck, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Fuck, I-...” he exhales, lost in the feeling of your pussy wrapping around him like a grip. “... You okay?” he says breathless, eyes searching yours for anything that’s not okay.

A breathless chuckle escapes you as you press your lips on his jawline. “More than okay. But please move.”

“Oh, thank god….” he mumbles before pulling out and thrusting in again. His movements are slow, yet the perfect pace to help you build up slowly but surely towards a second high.

Jimin rolls his hips with the expertise only a dancer could possess, driving his cock deeper and deeper with each roll, hitting that spot again and you can’t help but close your eyes to savour this feeling.

Shallow breaths leave you as his pubic bone brushes against your clit with each motion, driving you crazy.

“Ugh, you feel… mm’ so good…” he mumbles between thrusts, letting his lips land on your breasts, to suck lovebites on your skin.

“Jimin, fuck…!” you cry out, high-pitched moans escaping you as your hands go to his ass, coaxing him to drive his cock even deeper.

He growls from above your chest before you feel his palm cupping your cheek. “Open your eyes for me, love…” he mumbles quietly and you have no choice but to comply.

Opening your eyes, you’re met with Jimin’s piercing ones, staring at you intensely, burning with unspoken feelings that are too easy to recognize. After all, you feel them too.

You move to the side to kiss the inside of his palm before you smile at him.

He smiles back fondly at you before his hands move to lace his fingers with yours at each side.

“Keep your eyes on me, love…” he whispers before moving again.

This time around, his pace is slightly quicker, his cock hitting your sweet spot with renewed vigour and yet you can only concentrate on his eyes. His eyes that stare at you with such fondness and love it makes your eyes water.

You see the frown on his face before he stops moving in concern, yet you push your heels on his ass to keep him going.

“No, it’s okay, I’m okay, keep going…” you say, almost choking with the emotions overwhelming you. “It’s just that… I can’t believe I’m so lucky…” you admit softly, an unbelievable chuckle escaping you as you stare at him with what you hope he sees as undeniable adoration.

He smiles at you again, -you think you’ll never get tired of that smile-, before he leans in to kiss away the stray tear that flowed free from your eyes.

He picks up the pace once more, resting his forehead on top of yours, as shallow moans roll off your tongue. Your high keeps approaching, you can feel it and still you’re only focused on his eyes. Soft grunts escape him as he drives his hips into you, getting closer to his high as well, his hands grasping yours as if they’re a lifeboat.

He brushes his lips gently against yours before “I love you…” he mutters against you and you think your heart is gonna burst.

You press another kiss on his lips before, “I love you too.”

And then you don’t say anything else as your high approaches and after a few more thrusts you both come entangled in one another, each other’s names on your lips.

You lay like this for a few moments, with Jimin’s body on top of yours as both of you struggle to catch your breaths. Then your eyes find each other again and everything seems so clear, so right.

You can’t stop smiling at each other like lovesick fools as you fall asleep next to each other, at last content.

.

.

When Jimin wakes up the next morning he thinks it was all a dream.

But as his eyes rest on your peaceful sleeping form he knows he could never dream something as perfect as this.

He can’t help the lovesick smile taking over his lips as he looks at you through sleep-ridden eyes. He shuffles closer, resting his face on his hands to get a better look while you sleep soundly next to him. He feels like he can never get enough of you. Not now, not ever.

Suddenly your body begins moving though your eyes remain closed and Jimin figures you’re still asleep.

“Stop being creepy…” you mumble with a sleepy smile and Jimin grins too, realising he was wrong.

“I’m not being creepy…” he argues softly, still smiling. You pop open one eye to look at him unimpressed before you yawn and open both your eyelids.

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause it’s super romantic staring at me while I’m asleep, where can I find another man like that…” you tease him with a drowsy smile as your eyes find his.

He groans dramatically though his smile still remains. “You’re unbelievable…” he mumbles, his voice still gruff from sleep and you have to suppress a shiver before shuffling closer.

“I know but you love me…” you mumble against him before kissing his lips slowly. He lets himself get lost on the kiss before you lean back and he licks his lips to savour your taste.

“And now you can’t take it back!” you exclaim out loud before smiling mischievously at him.

Another groan breaks free from his lips. “Already regretting it…” he comments, checking your reaction from the corner of his eyes.

You gasp as if offended by his quip. “Well, maybe then I’ll just leave so you won’t regret it anymore!” you respond, gathering his sheet on your chest as you make a move to leave his bed.

But Jimin is faster, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you back on the bed, crawling on top of you with a predatory smile.

“Now, now, let’s not result in desperate measures…” he dives in for another kiss.

You can’t help but smile again as you kiss him, hands circling around his neck as he softly bites your bottom lip.

“Careful sir. You might trigger something dangerous here…” you whisper seductively, moving one leg so your thigh can rub against his already half-hard member.

Jimin’s smirk only grows. “Mmm, maybe I like danger…” he responds before his lips envelop yours once more. His hands travel beneath the sheet, tracing your skin before they move lower and-.

A loud bang echoes through the apartment, surprising both of you before a booming voice is heard through the walls, one that belongs to none other than Hoseok himself.

“Have you fucked yet or nah?!”

Your eyes widen, face immediately growing red. Jimin looks at you with an apologetic smile and before you get to ask why Hoseok is asking that, said man bursts into the room.

There’s a sudden explosion of sounds, you screaming as you hide beneath Jimin, Jimin cursing at Hoseok as he pulls the sheet to cover you both and Hoseok whistling at the image before him.

“Woah! You finally did it buds, I’m so happy for you!” he cheers you on as he steps inside to fist bump a very angry looking Jimin and a very visibly confused you.

“Hoseok, excuse my french, but what the fuck are you doing here?” Jimin is positively seething with his friends' interruption but as you see Hoseok basically beaming at the both of you, you can’t help but giggle at the absurd situation.

“I came to see if my buddies finally worked it out! And you did, finally! Can you imagine if you hadn’t and I’d burst through the door screaming that? That’d be awkwaaaaaaard!” he comments, too cheerful to notice Jimin’s deadly stare and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

“Right. That would’ve been awkward…” Jimin comments sarcastically though Hoseok still seems oblivious as he sits on top of the bed with a happy smile hanging from his lips.

You’re about to burst into giggles as you watch Jimin’s eyes growing wider in disbelief and you’re certain he’s gonna kill Hoseok any minute now.

“I’m so happy for you guys! My besties are finally dating!” he comments full of joy and Jimin is about to have smoke pouring out of his ears.

“Hobi, we’re happy too but I think it’d be better for you if you left…” you comment with a smile, pointing with your head at Jimin who’s about to lose it any second.

Hoseok’s eyes widen finally in realization. “Oh, whoops! Right, right, I’m leaving, keep going, stallion, show her how it’s done!” Hoseok throws finger guns at Jimin as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

As soon as Hoseok is out of earshot and you turn to look at Jimin you can’t help but burst into giggles by how absolutely mad he looks.

Though when you start laughing, Jimin’s incredulous stare turns to you. “Why are you even laughing?!”

Even though his ominous stare is directed at you, you can’t stop laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just too funny!” you say breathlessly through your giggles.

“Too funny?!” he asks incredulously before his gaze turns dark. His eyes have your laughter dying in your throat and instead another feeling rising up at the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll show you funny…” he whispers sinfully before he lunges forward and you forget what you were laughing at for the rest of the day.

There are more important matters to tend to.