#no more caffeine for the rest of the day i must be calm and collected

[touchlikethesun]

getting that networking coffee with the owner of the auction house tonight, and idk why i am nervous, i already know i don't have the job, so i should be able to just put it out of my mind and focus on learning more about this very interesting person and his very interesting career path without the stress of needing to impress in the moment, and also i have spoken with him over the phone and he is a very kindly grandfather sort of person so really there is no reason why it will not go well. and yet. i am still nervous.

[jahnavisurenda-21]

Hazbin Hotel||Alastor X Reader||Calming Afternoon

The weekend has just begun, and all my other outdated plans will just have to schedule themselves at my convenience. Food just seems to brighten the day, even in the most unexpected times.

It was an especially hot summer noon in hell, This wasn't a place where sinners were really into gardening, or watching cherry blossoms while they sip some green tea, it was unpleasant.

Unpleasant enough, to make Alastor cancel all his radio shows for the day, he told you, "I know my dear! Someone with style, and flare needs to make this hellish afternoon a little bearable but, you see my dear this sun has made me quite unmotivated to put the pen to the paper or sit at my office desk!"

You were a little disappointed, at his decision because you looked forward to his audios to add to your collection you had one for rainy day audios, comfort audios, he did those only for you, and some audios when you just wanted to hear his voice. Those audios always set the mood right.

Sometimes you would play them on repeat while drinking a can of soda, or drowning in caffeine when you just didn't feel like yourself.

Alastor picked up your sudden shift of mood, "My dear I promise to make you another audio, I'm working on that one for almost a week. It almost feels like a brag more than anything!" Alastor looked at you, "All though It flatters me immensely knowing you enjoy these audios more than those silly books you read, and that noisy picture box!"

You got excited, something he had been working on? For a week? You resisted yourself to ask more questions, Alastor would simply smile more wider than he usually did.

Sometime in the late afternoon, Alastor was looking at you with a disapproving look, "No, my dear, I must disagree I don't enjoy eating this lazy type of food it certainly gives no quality to the food. Nothing better than a homecooked meal."

Alastor, However, did cook the sweet dessert so ward or distract you from the sun and it felt even better when he shared it with you. Alastor had discarded the heavy coat and casually crept towards you where you lay you were flipping through a new romance book.

He should be asking you, where were you getting those books?

For the evening you were relieved to see some rain had cooled the land, and Alastor was stroking your hair, as he watched a movie you picked out on the picture box.

He was delighted to how these few hours had passed in your company, you were pleasant as always, he missed your voice. And was almost glad he feed you homecooked meals and prevented a day of lazy food.

The rest of the night you spent with each other where you talked about the things that happened over the week, what you intend to do, and to your excitement Alastor had created a meal prep plan for you, so you could enjoy.

Alastor is really good at cooking, it's like adding proportions to the meal flows in the blood, he teaches any recipe you particularly like. But he also loves it when you put in that extra effort to put together a good Lunch, or dinner. It's different when he eats your meals.

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

[thegracelessfaceless]

Hello, I’d like a romantic (+NSFW) matchup! 

You can call me 🥩 Anon

I’m a bisexual gender-fluid AFAB (they/he) in my late twenties.

Physical description: a bit over 5’, petite frame with some muscle from my line cook job. My hair is long, dark, and wild, I have big brown eyes with thick lashes, small hands, and I’ve been told I have a great smile, despite my teeth being crooked (which I’m kind of insecure about;;). I have stretched ears, a lip piercing, and there are little moles and freckles all over me (though the rest of my skin is pale enough to see through) along with various little scars on my forearms from being burned or cut at work. 

Personality: Introverted but very friendly, easily attached to people, quickly ride-or-die. I’m physically affectionate with my friends and my partner (but hate being touched by strangers), playful, passionate, dedicated, sensitive, empathetic, romantic and horny af. I’m an entertainer at heart and love to make people laugh! I am autistic and have ADHD, so I feel all my emotions very deeply (and I fall in love hard and fast), can sometimes overreact in the moment, have mood drops and sensory issues, and I’m usually the last to catch a drift (including when someone is trying to flirt with me). I'm addicted to caffeine and smoke my fair share of weed (but am a bit of a lightweight). Usually a home-body, but I like to go adventuring once in a while with the right people.

Interests: In my free time, I like to draw, write, bake/cook, watch cartoons and daydream, though I’d like to make my art my full-time job! I’m a sucker for anything cute, but I also love horror and will often mix the two in my creative work. I have a broad taste in music and my wardrobe is eclectic, ranging from pastels to punk (just depends on the day and the gender). I also collect stickers, scrap paper and various other trinkets that I never really use (I just like looking at them lol)

Relationships: Usually monogamous, but open to a poly relationship with the right people. I love playful teasing, inside jokes, and general silliness in relationships, as well as a lot of physical touch, positive affirmation and acts of service (I also give gifts, but feel weird receiving them if they’re expensive. Home-made is much better!). I’m highly devoted and affectionate with my partner(s), but still very much value my privacy and alone time. I am mentally ill and need a partner who will be understanding of the difficulties that come with that. I cannot handle someone raising their voice at me or being passive-aggressive. Very clear, calm communication and honesty are a must! They have to be respectful of my gender identity as well, or things will never work.

NSFW: I’m a sub-leaning switch (more dom on masc days). What turns me on most is turning my partner on and knowing I’m making them feel good! I’m moderately kinky (with like A LOT of different kinks that hit at different times) but I still love romantic, vanilla sex and would never pressure my partner to participate in my kinks if they weren’t into it (that’s what my art and writing are for!). My libido tends to be 0 or 100, so its all cuddles or they have to scrape me off of them to get anything done. (PS hope they like rawdogging bc I hate the texture of condoms (and I’ve got an IUD so no worries they can go nuts lol 👍))

Thanks in advance :)

It's always so fun to have a new Anon! Welcome to the blog. Ya know you remind me a lot of one of my closest Tumblr friends... Anywho!

Your match is

꒒ꍏꋪꋪꌩ ꀭꂦꃅꈤꌗꂦꈤ ❤️

I think Larry would most definitely be appreciative of a smol king (read that like you're hearing Bill and Ted talk)

Larry likes to come up behind you and rest his chin on the top of your head while holding you. He sways gently to whatever song is currently playing in his head

Larry has ADHD too, so he gets it

And he understands that ADHD and autism have quite a few overlapping symptoms.

So he's ultra understanding when it comes to that

And Larry isn't really attracted to a specific gender

"Whatever makes you happy, babe. You do you, and, uh, I'll do you too 😁"

Cue goofy, gap-toothed smile

I feel like you and Larry met at work?

Like you were doing your line cook thing and Larry was on dish duty

So he spied you drawing while you were on break

And he came up and sat next to you, asking if you wanted to spend break smoking and talking about art

And it just blossomed from there

Larry really likes your art. He likes his seamlessly you incorporate horror and gore into cutesy pastel colored works

He also enjoys seeing what you come up with music wise

Larry has endless suggestions to help you expand your playlist even more, giving you a crash course in all things metal

Skipping around because ADHD rules me too 😅

Larry is very touched by your loyalty

He's kind of got some abandonment issues from Jim

So the fact that you're there? Ride or die?

That means so much to Larry that he gets teary eyed thinking about it

Larry loves your smile

He, of all people, understands that teeth don't have to be perfectly straight to make up a great smile

Since Larry loves your smile so much

He goes to super extra lengths to ensure that he sees it as much as possible

Like he really hams it up for you

Acting like a himbo who was born yesterday

Just so you'll have someone to laugh/fret over

He just wants to see you happy

And even when you're not so happy, he's patient.

He'll help you get through it

Larry would definitely have a higher weed tolerance than you

But I think his mere presence would help to raise your tolerance by at least 37.3%

I can see him pulling you, Sal and company along on a sativa fueled adventure though

Even though he prefers to stay in as well

Larry also survives on caffeine, and throw in pizza and strawberry Häagen Dazs and you've got his major food groups.

But Larry would be totally into your baking and cooking

He'd be your number one taste tester

Also, Larry is the king of pancake dinners (or breakfasts... Any meal really)

So yeah, enjoy that ☺️

Also high cartoon binges are a pretty regular occurrence with Larry

Half of what Larry watches is cartoons.

The rest is stuff like Three Busy Debra's, The Whitest Kids You Know, Brad Neely's Harg Nallin Sclopio Peepio, etc

Overall, I feel like Larry really matches your personality qualities and love languages

His love languages are physical touch, words of affirmation, and acts of service

Does song writing count as gift giving?

Yes, you heard me

Larry writes you songs

Sometimes the lyrics are deep, meaningful, full of emotion and passion with intricate guitar work

Other times the songs are more simplistic musically, with dumb or cheesy lyrics

But sometimes you make Larry just that

Dumb and cheesy

Citrus below cut 🍋 🍊 🍋 🍊

First off, thank you for being clear about whether you wanted nsfw, as well as your age range. Ilysm for that, Anon of the month award ⭐⭐⭐

Larry is a dom switch and no one can tell me differently

But in your situation, this works out great

He's got a heavy lean to the dom side, but will sub in the right circumstances

He's especially more open to subbing if you're having one of your masc days

Even if he does act a little like a brat

I hope you like brat taming, heh 🤷🏻‍♀️

I think Larry is also notoriously horny on main

This man can turn anything into a dirty joke, if given enough time

I can see him bravely assisting you as you tackle your kink list

Such a brave, honorable guy!

[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Pale Jester Chain 2

Prompt: PJ finds his way into Lemm’s shop and begins ruminating about all the different relics with surprising accuracy and knowledge (much to Lemm’s annoyance and confusion)

By @werewolforeos

Lemm was alone, as usual. He dusted off the king’s idols so the illustrious stone regained its shine. He froze as the door to his ‘shop’ creaked, and the bell jingled- please don’t be another caffeine-wanting bug, he thought, turning around to greet the customer.

The masked bug was taller than he was, though not by much- most of its height came from its horns, eight tall spikes resembling a crown. Yet despite this regal feature, it dressed in a fool’s clothes- Lemm could almost imagine the bells attached to the cape’s ends, which luckily were absent. And all its clothes shone with a deep crimson.

“How can I help you?” Lemm muttered, eyeing the stranger’s staff. “Oh, mind that shelf, would you?”

“Oh! A friendly face in these caverns! My, my! What an unexpected surprise!” The bug replied with a too-jolly attitude. Lemm decided he did not like this bug. “Why, I was merely exploring this city- it’s quite hectic outside, no?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Lemm replied. “My shop here is safe, at least. It’s quite calm up here. Have you seen those husks?”

“Yes, yes. Quite the sad fate they have been left with- blinded by those unsightly orange lumps, yet stuck in their daily rituals all the same.” The stranger brought up his hands to his face, in a mocking display of shock. “Oh, heavens! We have yet to introduce ourselves to each other!”

Lemm rolled his eyes. “Name’s Lemm. Don’t have much else to say on that matter, but what’s yours, stranger?”

“Ah- they call me Jester, back up there. You have a nice name, Lemm!” A shiver went up Lemm’s spine as Jester spoke his name- he ignored it, it’s probably just the breeze. “So, Lemm! What do you do up here? It’s quite the nice shop~!” said the Jester, picking up a wanderer’s journal.

“Ah- hands off, please. The knowledge stored on these antiques is priceless.” Lemm tapped Jester on the hands. “I buy these relics of this old kingdom, for the sake of history and preservation. I’ve got many journals to decipher- so if you don’t mind, unless you have any relics for me…?”

“Ah, no, I do not have anything you might be interested in. Though,” the Jester mused, “Perhaps I might be able to assist in deciphering the script? It seems familiar to me.”

Lemm scoffed. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Tell you what, if you can decipher a full journal, I might part with it once I’ve copied it down somewhere.” “That sounds like a challenge to me~! Challenge accepted, shopkeep.”

Lemm gave the Jester a journal he’d deciphered already, to test how well he knew the old script of Hallownest. Putting his finger to the script, the Jester seemed lost in thought, as though looking at an old memory. “This is a passage about those blue cocoons, is it not? They call it Lifeblood.” Lemm blinked.

“That is… correct. But, could you translate the whole passage? I’m curious as to what your skills are.”

“The swirling blue liquid relieves pain, but if too much is taken at once, the Lifeblood seems to take over. We must carefully ration the amount given to the hospitals. Signed… Lurien, the Watcher.”

...That was, way too fast. “Hmm. I’m not convinced. Another.” Lemm trades the journal in the Jester’s hands for another.

“The circus was in town today,” the Jester reads aloud, “and I got to see Marissa’s show! Her voice is so soothing- it reminds me of my dreams.” Lemm was silent. This is ridiculous.

“Hm? Did I make a mistake?”

“Oh, no. I was lost in thought about- these signs here,” Lemm lies. “I hadn’t yet translated this passage, and had not seen this combination written as one word yet.”

“Oh! You’re looking at ‘plague’ there, shopkeep.” Cogs whirred as Lemm processed this information- these journals talk about many things, how did this Jester decipher these so quickly? And does he know things Lemm does not?

“These icons next to each other- ‘sick’ and ‘many’. Many sick make a plague, no?”

“Yes, yes. That does make sense. And here…”

“That’s a shopping list,” the Jester waved it away. “Honeydew, boofly meat, it seems as though this one was quite rich. Though it’s not that important,” he claims, “as those letters from the Watcher you’ve got there seem much more interesting to me.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, everything he’s said has been correct. Even the ones I hadn’t yet gotten to. Just who is this bug, exactly?

The Jester strided over to Lemm’s undeciphered journals, focusing on a specific grouping. “I hereby request the addition of a chamber for Lexi, my butler, inside my Spire. He wishes to stay as he works, and…” Jester pauses as he grabs the next passage. “I believe it would be a good idea to have him with me as I prepare for slumber. Hm, a little fruity, aren’t we, Watcher?”

Lemm just stood there, dumbfounded. “Er. I. Okay.” This is a lot more information than I expected to get in five minutes. Ignoring him, the Jester continued to rummage through the relics, stumbling across a stray king’s idol.

“Hey! Those were ordered to date and time!”

“And now they are not. Is there any issue there? If it is, you can always order them again.”

Lemm definitely did not like this bug. “Excuse me? You waltz into my shop, damage my collection, and strut about like you own the place with your knowledge of the signs used in Hallownest’s prime. Who do you think you are?” “That is irrelevant. I do wonder… where did you find this statuette?”

“A wanderer comes by every so often with many relics, and cleans out my geo stash. I mean- that’s irrelevant. Why do you care?”

Holding the idol at an arm’s length, the Jester tilted his head, studying the way it was sculpted. “This one was found in the resting grounds. I can smell the lavender,” he muses. “I’m surprised they had one of these there- the moths didn’t take kindly to that King. I suppose that’s understandable, given what he did to them.”

“Moths?”

“Yes, yes. Quite a long time ago, they lived in the lands Hallownest was built upon. Did you never get an education?”

Lemm blinks. “Well, I had school, but-”

“Shopkeep, this is something all bugs used to know. Did they scrap it out of the history books? ...Of course he would, that King would do anything for validation. I’m sure the guilt is eating him up from the inside.”

“Jester. The king is dead. Has been for a while. Have you not seen the state of decay this kingdom is in?”

“Ah, no. That Wyrm is still alive somewhere- I’m sure of it.” The Jester moved back to the door, holding his staff in one hand, and journals in the other three. “I do wonder,” he muttered under his breath,”why are these so familiar? Ah, Lemm, was it? Would you mind if I took these outside?”

Before Lemm could express indignance, the door opened once more- standing in it a drenched wanderer, who often stopped by to supply Lemm with his many relics. The pale white mask they donned looked up at the crimson Jester, an unreadable expression behind it. The wanderer gripped the handle of their nail- sharpened, coiled, pure. They recognized the Jester, and they did not particularly like him, Lemm thought. At least Lemm wasn’t alone in disliking his clown schtick. That being said, the Jester still held some relics- if a fight broke out, they could get damaged. Lemm quietly pried open the hands of the Jester.

“Ohoho! We meet again, little one! Do tell me about your excursions down here, won’t you?” The Jester was met with silent scorn. The shop was rife with tension, though the Jester seemed oblivious to it.

“Er, pardon me, but mayhaps you two should take this… outside.”

The wanderer stared at the Jester for another moment, before breaking their gaze away, and briskly walking towards Lemm. They rummaged in their pockets, producing another pair of journals, a Hallownest seal, and an arcane egg. The Jester giggled, the wanderer quickly turning their head towards him, and then sprinting back into the endless rain of the City of Tears before Lemm could give the wanderer the geo they were due.

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By @couch-cat

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By @arandoskeleartist

(audio file working on being uploaded)

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By @uncurdled-bean-curd

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By @the-trans-anon

Lemm was going to have a stroke.

He’d been having a perfectly fine day going through his relics without any annoyances running around, when a strange bug he’d never seen before entered his shop. The bug didn’t seem to have any relics to share, saying he was just exploring, and had been about to leave when he noticed one of Lemm’s king idols.

“What’s that?” The bug asked, reaching for the idol.

Lemm quickly yanked it out of his reach, not thrilled with the idea of someone manhandling his relics. “It’s an idol of the Pale King. The King himself was rarely seen so the bugs of Hallownest worshiped these in his stead.”

“Lies!” Before he could blink, the bug had grabbed the idol and jumped back towards the door. He held the idol up above their head, admiring it.

“Clearly it’s a tiny statue of me! Can you not see the resemblance?” He asked, looking towards Lemm and pressing the idol against his mask, eyes alight with mirth.

Lemm was about to snap at the bug to give him back the idol for gods sake it’s a historical artifact not a toy- when he too started to notice the similarities between the idol and the strange bug. Both had similar horns rising up as a crown, though the bug’s horns were much more curved than the King’s, and their masks looked nearly identical save for the black lines running down the bug’s face. The main difference was their clothing, with most of the King’s imagery in white and the bug’s clothes in a bright, fiery red. The more he looked, the more clear their uncanny resemblance became.

“...Are you related to the Pale King?” Lemm asked, feeling a headache start to form.

The bug looked confused, then put down the idol. “ Ah no, I’m afraid I simply jest my friend. Though we have similar names, I have never heard of your “Pale King” before. Though I have to say,” He looked back at the idol “your king was quite the looker.”

“Wait, what do you mean you have similar names? What’s your name?!”  

The bug looked about ready to answer, before he froze and looked up at the ceiling. “Ah, my apologies my friend. It appears the Master is in need of me.”

“The Master??!”

“May we meet again.” The strange bug bowed, and raced out of the shop.

“Wait! You can’t just say something like that and leave who does that!? Come back here!” Lemm ran after the bug, but he was nowhere to be found. “Shit.” He sighed, before deciding to look around for any sign of the bug. That bug had to have some kind of connection with the King, and like hell he was going to pass up a chance to get information about the reclusive Pale King. He needed to talk to that bug.

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By @lesiasmadness

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By @redcynder1234

Lemm angrily grumbled at the tiny hands that dragged him halfway across the kingdom. He had tried to fight the smaller vessel off back in the city of tears. When they had suddenly barged into his little relic shop, seeming urgent as he tried to drag the grumpy old bug out of his shop. Lemm had tried to wave them away, but the smaller bug had quite a lot of determination to show them something then and there, at least no husks dare tread in their path as they traveled. The infection may be gone for sure, but husks of former bugs sometimes still lingered around, it was nerve wracking for sure, but lemm was safe in his shop where he could get lost in his work for hours on end. However now with the little shadow dragging him out of the safety of his home, He was a little on edge.

Finally as it seemed the little ghost had dragged them to their location they pointed upwards. Looking up, lemm grumbled seeing an old rusty chain leading up an old well. “Absolutely not.” He growled out. Even as the small vessel flapped their monarch wings to start and climb the chain. Hearing his response however they stopped and looked down before pulling out something from their cloak. One hand on the chain they waved a king's idol in the air. “Yes you’ve been waving that thing at me through this entire journey! I still don’t understand why you’ve dragged me halfway across hallownest.” He barked angrily. If only the little vessel could speak. He assumed they couldn't speak a few visits back as they sold old trinkets at his shop but lemm never could be sure. It really felt like they were speaking sometimes.

The vessel seemed to wave and point it up desperately before disappearing up the well. “Ey! Little squirt! Come back here!” He barked up the shaft angrily. However when no shadow came to retrieve him he just grumbled angrily. “Stupid, familiar looking…” Lemm mumbled under his breath as he climbed up the chain. If his curiosity about what they wanted wasn't so persistent he would have turned straight back around and headed back to the city of tears. Plus, kings idols were a rare find and he wanted to get his hands on as many as he could.

As he scrambled over the ledge of the well, his old carapace not liking the climb in the slightest, he looked around. He remembered hearing about the town of dirtmouth. By its size alone lemm could tell the town must have been a lively and successful one before the infection's grip controlled and destroyed the place. It was sad, maybe to anyone other than lemm at the moment. Grumpy and tired he saw the cloaked vessel padding towards two pinky almost red tinted tents. “Little pest… just doing to leave me behind!” He barked angrily as he followed after the vessel. Nothing left to do this far into this journey but to follow the little gremlin. Plus, in case there were any more infected lingering about, he rather have another soul that could fight them off then be left to fend them off himself. He only knew how to work with small pliers and knives, not nails and needles.

The vessel seemed to be approaching a small crowd that had formed outside the tents. They had been there before the two entered town, but lemm could already tell from a distance they were all… scared? More weary if anything. As he got closer the little ghost had turned, waving the small king's idol wildly while pointing through the crowd. “Give me that.” He snapped while snatching the king's brand from their hands. “I swear if you really wanted to sell it to me you could have done it in the city of tears, instead of dragging me halfway across the kingdom!” He snapped angrily. Making sure it hadn’t been damaged he fetched a bag of geo from under his cloak and dropped it without even looking at the vessel. “You're lucky I'm not taking half of that for dragging me her- OW.” He barked when ghost suddenly yanked his beard. “I swear-“ he growled as he looked down, wavinging the vessel's hand away from his beard. However the vessel was glaring into his soul and pointing. Angrily he huffed and looked up, before his eyes widened. Huh? That was impossible!?!

Looking down at the idol in his hands he looked up. The normal silver cloak was gone, replaced with red jester clothes. His crown of thorns was bent in such a painful looking way it almost made lemm cringe at the thought; and yet as lemm held up the king's idol he could see the similarities. Far too close similarities to be a coincidence. However there was no way the king of hallownest was some low-life jester doing gags and tricks to please the normal class's eye. Especially to a dead kingdom. Yet thinking this could be the king's brother was almost laughable. The king was a wyrm if the small amount of text he deciphered was true. And wyrms were giant beasts that could kill anything in its path. Then who was this look-a-like in front of them? That must be why the vessel had dragged them here, they may be curious themselves but since lemm was such a history nut he would know more. Could have still told him that before dragging him here.

As the jester bowed and the small crowd nervously clapped. Seeming to be more doing it to please someone then actually liking the show. He paused as the jester disappeared back into the pink tents. He knew the vessel was still standing beside them, watching the relic keeper curiously. Lemm knew he shouldn't enter the tent and ask such a question, but so many questions could be solved about this kingdom if this stupid look-a-like statue was this strange jester. The pale king hidden right under everyone's noses. Yet it still felt wrong in some way but he couldn't figure out why.

Lemm didn't understand what caused him to head towards the menacing face-looking tents; but he headed inside their pink tinted curtains. He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't the tent to be almost pitch black except for small lanterns hanging up around the place. He expected at least a little of the outside world's lights to cut through the fabric. Sure it wasn't bright already in dirtmouth, but the sheets had looked almost see through before, now they looked like solid walls keeping the relic keeper inside. A shiver ran down his back as he almost instantly regretted his decision. He was a relic seeker, not an explorer that went out and actually found the relics to study. However it was a bit too late to turn back now.

Walking down the hallway he saw another bug standing there. Playing a spooky tone upon the accordion in their hands. Lemm wished he could have just snuck around the bug but they noticed him before he got too close. “Mrmm… Sorry, but the master does not want visitors at the moment...” Lemm gulped softly. “Actually I am uh… here to see your jester I believe. I wanted to praise them for the wonderful show.” The lie came out of his mouth a bit smoother than he intended. Yet it seemed the other paused before nodding forward. “Mrmm… Continue then… but do not linger.” they simply stated. Lemm quickly nodded and passed by, making sure the king's idol was safely out of sight from the other bug's eyes. Once passed he calmed down a bit. The hallway led to a pretty large room, silken ropes hanging from just about everywhere above his head. Somewhere tied together, some were almost touching the ground. They were so long, but lemm had to admit it was a pretty sight. Something white suddenly appeared from above, it was the jester alright, carefully twisted around the silken fabric. Was he dancing? It kinda appeared like it. “H-hello?” lemm wasn't one for conversation but it felt a little awkward just watching the other. The other quickly looked down, a mask upon the other's face made the relic seeker shiver. However the others voice didn't sound nearly as threatening as he expected it to be. “Ah! Greetings down there, what brings you to the grimm kin’s tent.” He called down. Carefully sliding down the silken ropes to hang upside down in front of the relic seeker. Lemm nervously took a step back before stealing himself. “I wanted to ask you a question.” The jester tilted his head curiously. Carefully righting himself and wrapping his legs around the silken ropes to keep himself suspended in mid hair.

“Oh?” He hummed curiously “What question do you have for a little jester like me?” he spoke. Lemm gulped nervously before speaking. “Do… were… I….” how does he just ask someone if they were a king?! “Were you a king before?” He blurted out in her strange panic. The jester seemed to pause before bursting out laughing. Lemm huffed even if he knew how stupid that must of just sounded. “I’m serious!” He barked out, feeling a bit flustered. As the jester calmed he wiped a single tear that had formed in the mask's eye. “A funny joke for sure little bug, but there would be no way that I could be a king. I would probably put buzzsaws and little traps as far as the eye could see.” he snickered to himself as he joked, but lemm just huffed. “I am serious-” he barked again but the jester interrupted him “Then your answer is obviously no my small bug.” he chuckled “I could never be a king of something.” He chuckled. “Either way, I don't think you should be back here. If the master finds out you're here he may be quite mad.” The pale jester said with another chuckle. Lemm huffed angrily. “You look like the ruler that used to rule here--” “--That's enough.” the jester spoke with a huff. “I understand a joke but pushing it makes it unfunny.” the other huffed.

Lemm growled. “I’m not joking! I already said that.” he barked “You look like the king of his land, look-!” He held up the king idol that he had hidden in his cloak. The jester paused. If lemm continued to speak he didn't hear it, He focused on the idol in there hand. It made the jester feel strange, like there was something scratching at the back of their head but just couldn't figure out what was causing it. Like a memory long compressed and lost to time. Maybe it was better that they were suppressed but…. Flashes of memories went through his head. Bright white images with blurred faces. Hissing he took a step back before his head cleaned and something warm brushed his shoulder. Looking up he noticed grimm standing over him, his eyes seemed kind and light hearted but the jester could sense the small bit of anger in them.

The jester watched Grimm calmly lead the other outside the tents. Their words didn't fully register to him however as the two left. The strange symbol still was imprinted in his mind but the memories that had come along with them were gone. Strange, but it may be better for such things to stay hidden in his memory, but the jester was still curious. When grimm appeared beside him again through a burst of red smoke he seemed calm, but his red eyes shined in worry. “Ah yes I'm ok.” he chuckled nervously. “Just got a bit of a headache.” he said “What a strange bug.” he spoke, looking towards the entrance to the tent. Grimm only softly hummed “Indeed… Come, we have plenty still to do while we're here.” The jester paused before nodding, following grimm back into the tent.

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By @darkautodraws 

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By @daikoski​ 

The Pale Jester always had a knack for dancing.

—Or perhaps, certain kinds of it.

He’d discovered one time when indulging on a slower song from Brumm, that he had a knack for ballroom dancing of all things! But such a thing isn’t commonplace for his kind of performance, no, he much prefers storytelling accompanied with a fun little jig of sorts. Ballroom dancing—especially with the audience he tends to have—seems to be something a little too formal and delicate.

Which is why he finds himself taking on the endeavor of trusting seemingly delicate, flowing silks with the entirety of himself. Ahh, yes, that of aerial dancing! He notes them as seemingly delicate, as they’re more than capable of securing far more weight than originally thought, but also... he’s very sharp.

—Of course, he’s not so clumsy now to go and let his claws tear straight through the silk now, nor would he allow the plates of his body to catch on it either. Not like that one time, when he had first been trying to pitch the choreography to this performance...

Now that had been something. The clicking tear of threads being pulled apart and the swoop of his stomach as he plummeted before quickly catching himself with his tail, something of a boisterous, abrupt laugh escaping him.

“You’re not trying to escape from a web, are you? Try not to cut yourself down little Fool!” Divine had jeered affectionately, and he could have easily preened from the spark of laughter that ignited the rest of the Troupe before lowering himself.

(... he also most certainly tries to pad the sharp ridges of his body a little more ever since that incident, but that’s besides the point.)

Ah, but that’s beside the point. Such a joyous thing it is, to inspire such a reaction in others, even if it’s from a

slipup like that. Perhaps it’s even better when it is. (Aer all, the Jester in fact would like to think he uses his foolishness to endear

himself to others, not dolt around.)

The tent is empty as of now, though that’s no concern. The Grimmkin will flood the audience the moment he does so much as enter the stage—no, he’s searching for the more unfamiliar-yet-not guests to come in, if at all. Perhaps the little wanderer, the shadow? Or maybe even one of the town folks bold enough to come by? Oh, or the princess warrior! Though her kind are truly experts in silk, and he finds himself unsure of how she’ll take his performance. (It is due to her influence that he felt himself particularly inclined to this song and dance aer all.)

Ah, he should probably do some last checks on the rigging, make sure they’re steady and all that. That, and check on his costume, too.

“C’mon Jester, don’t tell me your talons are going all stiff on ya!” comes the snicker of a Grimmkin trying to goad him on, and he laughs, before launching into a sprightly comical bow, tail flicking. Actually, he feels as nimble as possible, thank you very much!

“Of course not, dear friend! I’m simply waiting to greet our beloved guests—” and speak and she will come, the familiar rubied-red cloak catches his eye, and he immediately pats and dismisses the ‘kin to greet the spider. “And here one comes now!”

“Hello, hello! Welcome, Little Hornet—” there’s a bit of distaste that shines through her expression at his thoughtless nickname, and he would reel it in had he not

already said it, instead opting to tuck the information away for next time, “—you’re just in time for this next performance! Sit down, sit down, make yourself comfortable!”

She’s ushered to her seat, which is something on the front rows amongst the many grimmkin. Idly he notes that neither of her siblings are attending, though he has no complaints.

This one’s less of a personal performance and more for all the Troupe to see, so he won’t be able to converse with her until aer. She comes here most oen to ask questions, aer all. A no-nonsense type of bug she is, and it’s only customary he’ll allow such aer a performance, and she seems to know the same. Nonetheless, he bites back a bark of amusement at the way she glowers at the chatty Grimmkin, a little bit crowded as it is.

Lights snap on, beaming bright and warm, and the show begins.

Distantly, he can hear the beginning notes of Brumm’s accordion, and ah, what a perfect guide he always is! The familiar haunting call sends a thrill through the Jester, and it’s with that he begins his performance.

He wonders briefly if aerial silk dancing has ever been seen within Hallownest. Perhaps so, perhaps not; he only learned due to the Troupe aer all, and Grimm hadn’t really shared where he had learned such an art either...

The whisper of silk that he coils around his hand is taut, strong and secure the more he loops it. It’s with quick, tight motions and a graceful swoop that he suspends himself right upside down, sharp mandibles pulling back into a pleased smile from behind his mask. That was a satisfying maneuver.

There’s a split second of concern regarding his costume—the fabric of his wings just do not seem to be cooperating this time around, but alas, it simply feels right to have them there!

The more he spends within the air, the more inclined, the more fond he becomes in fitting such an image. It feels even better when the silks are pulled and he’s practically in arms reach to the ceiling.

Though the Jester isn’t quite sure how to describe it; a certain kind of fun exhilaration, a familiar twinge in his chest at being lied to such a height—he’d first noticed it through the use of mere ropes and cranks, to trapezing and other such elevated storytelling (Ha! Perhaps if he finds more joyous stories to share, he could workshop that into a joke to tell Hornet...) to now dancing with aerial silks.

He lets himself be guided and pulled along, to sway and twirl with the call of the music and the warmth of the Heart with practiced ease and elegance. But of course; he’s more than prepared for this, and with each swoop and dip his smile widens more and more.

When the curtains close and all the Grimmkin have seen fit to disappear off to do whatever it is their hearts desire, the Jester remains lingering on the stage. To clean up mainly, but it is to keep a keen eye on the nimble princess as well. He watches as she simply hops up and makes her way down towards him, and he perks up in attention.

There’s some attempt at niceties, just polite, pleasant conversation on his part, to which she kind of shuts down aer a moment.

“Why the new performance?” Ahh, so some curiosity was piqued!

The Jester hums thoughtfully, letting the silks hold his weight up as he rocks too far back on his legs. It brushes whisper-so against him.

“Perhaps for no specific reason in particular, other than to further expand my capabilities as a jester!” He somewhat not-answers.

She doesn’t respond, instead opting to give him a very narrow eyed look, suspicion and more, and he feels compelled to continue.

“Well, perhaps not nothing. Hypothetically... if this old soul noticed a certain spiderling’s interest in acrobatics—and this is hypothetical, of course!” Hands up in the air as if in surrender yet jestful, he laughs, “and wished to, say, partake in something similar in an attempt to perhaps bond with her...?”

A pause and a beat. “Had it been to your liking, young one?”

He lets the words linger in the air, before dropping his hands down to tug at the silks once more. He wishes to be honest, so even though he feels... uncertain, telling her that, he doesn’t regret it.

Hornet’s expression does... something. It’s tiny—miniscule, even, and perhaps had it been anyone else but him, that faint little tell might have gone unseen. but he does see it, and he recognizes it quickly as some sort of conflicted emotion, a tension that he’s brought upon her.

It seems she very much teeters on something colder, fists gripping at the edge of her cloak before she almost quietly ekes out, “It had been fine.”

The Jester brightens up—why, from such a grumpy young princess like her, that could very well be the highest praise!

...Though it’s best he does not push further, nor goad her on either. Enjoyable their dances can be (with such strong, violent intent from her too!) he’s already finished his own performance, and she’s certainly due to rest sometime soon, nor would he want to upset her more in the first place.

And much to his surprise, she continues, “Such as... that part when you had dropped suddenly... I thought you were certain to fall and crack your mask in half.” Something of a surprised chuckle is pulled from him, and he hums. “Where you were supported by only one silk. It looked... dire.”

It’s vague enough that he can’t really pinpoint what part of the act she was talking about, but it brings forth words to his tongue, but just which ones?

Yes, just what was that phrase... right!

“That part! I was practically hanging by a thread, was I not?”

(So, he hadn’t been able to workshop that ‘elevated’ joke in time... but such is the way!)

By the Heart... he could consider this another job well-done, couldn’t he? No snapping, harsh remarks on the little spiderlings end, no such invasive shenanigans from any of the other grimmkin—the mischief they could get up to!

“It most certainly felt as though I had been too. These silks simply do not part when you want them to! I very nearly cocooned myself at one point!” He muses. A quick

recovery he always is, but it is still such a wrenching moment when there’s even the slightest miss of a cue.

“Tell me, I’ve never had the honour to learn or witness the art of silk in action. I can consider my act something akin to it, though it’s quite incomparable to that of a spider, and I find myself curious! Are there ever such... shenanigans like that?”

Perhaps it’s his curiosity as a now-performer, to find enjoyment in the silliness and mistakes along the way; a perfect performance starts from somewhere aer all, and he finds himself wishing to know more. Hornet probably knows what he’s doing—making good use of that ‘bonding attempt’ that he so mentioned earlier, and...

Is it in poor taste to joke around like this? She is one of the few weavers le... he wonders oandedly, when Hornet lets out something that sounds like a scoff-laugh.

“You would be surprised. Although we in particular favoured silk to be used in tapestries and story keeping rather than dance, it wouldn’t be... uncommon for a mishap to happen in a more verbose storytelling. Such as a silk shroud meant to mimic the silhouette of a corpse creeper ending up on the audience rather than the speaker themself...”

She does not specify if the one accidentally tossing a silken hunter on their audience is her, from her early days of practicing weaving, or anyone else... but she does look a little more relaxed, even if by a pinch. (And if he looked ever closer, maybe even a little embarrassed? It’s tiny, and far off, but maybe...)

(For some reason, he has a feeling he would have been too. Just a little bit.)

Hornet is about to speak more, unprompted (much to his delight), when she halts. One beat, two beats, and then looks at him.

“...you’ve never learned?” It's a small enough question that he nearly misses it. So like a whisper, edged with a sharp venomous hiss, and when the Jester is able to recollect himself from the sudden shock, he’s tuned back in only to see her cold regard and the turn of her back, needle gripped tighter, for she never goes anywhere without it.

“So now you’re curious.”

...Pardon?

He doesn’t give the reaction she wants, if the (hurt? angry?) scoff she gives at his bewilderment is not enough of a tell, then it’s the way she rolls her eyes before looking askance.

“...I will be taking my leave now.” She mutters something more about ‘he never learned about the weavers’ ... ‘not even of their culture?’ but the last bits of it are lost as she disappears from sight completely.

...

That... had not gone well? Or did it? It most certainly feels as though it did, but now their conversation has been cut short without him being able to give so much as a farewell. But he lets her leave. Not that he would stop her, especially knowing she’ll stop by sometime again, but he simply... watches.

She had been upset, in the beginning, and then the end. Upset at him. (Isn’t the first time.) (That’s one, aching pain in his chest today.)

...

The curtains have fallen, and as of now it’s time he recuperates for the next performance.

...That, or dust off that lantern of his to go and gather more flames for the Heart. The Troupe Master had allowed him to forgo such responsibilities in favour of honing his aerial dance aer all. Even with permission, he can feel the faint call of the flames, the flicker-spark as they burn deep within the depths of this poor, dilapidated kingdom.

(Or is it the call of the Heart pulling him away from his encounter with Hornet?)

(The enthralling change in attention is enough to jarr him just a little bit out of his thoughts, though he’s unsure if that’s what he wants or not. Distraction or focus?)

Deliberately, he redirects his thoughts to the spiderling, to their interactions.

...As a whole, it seems today has le him with very different emotions.

She had been testy at first, as always, but it seemed like he managed to converse pleasantly for her, even for just an exchange. And then she’s up and gone in not a moment later.

...There was an uncertain edge to her, when he had told her of his reasons for practicing such dance. The faintest scrunch of her fangs, as if trapped between pulling back into a snarling hiss or an uncertain smile. Or that if she did feel hostile, it was as though she was in polite company and couldn’t afford to be as such.

(And he knows very well that she does not quite see him as polite company, so why does she refrain as such other than habit?)

She was never one to hide her distaste towards him, but that had been something... different. What, he isn’t sure, but... odd, for such a small detail to stick out to him like that.

Ah, haha! But of course he recognized such a tell, not when he has the exact same quirk! Conflicted between strict decorum and honesty, where he’d much rather be honest and forthright than needlessly tense, as he’s so oen teased by his beloved—!

—His... beloved? No name follows that, and although it would be a complete term of endearment

as is, it doesn’t... feel complete. His beloved... one who knows him, knows his face despite the mask upon it

now...? His...

...Odd.

(...Here’s another chest pang.)

There’s a harsh little wheeze of a sour note, and the Jester perks up to see Brumm approaching, fiddling with the instrument before kicking into a slower, soer melody. He hadn’t realized he'd been standing there still, center of the stage, still with hands entangled in the silks, still very much not cleaning up or resting.

“Hello there, friend!” He greets, receiving only a nod in response and a curious look.

“Mrmm... Did something happen? Had it not gone well?” Straight to the point as always, too...

“I...” he falters, and for a second he feels terribly improper for such an obvious display of weakness, before continuing, “I do believe it couldn’t have gone any better!”

And it’s true! There isn’t much in his opinion that could be improved other than the few minute details, but of course, he is always striving to grow! Simply, everything had felt so right, he has no current complaints for himself!

Which is why... how odd it is that he feels so... down. This is by far one of his best performances yet, but that encounter with Hornet... it leaves him feeling tense. She had, while not the main reason he wished to learn such a dance, had been an influential part of it at least...

Because he cares for her like a... like a daughter. (Though that feels a touch too much, considering the fact she is the princess-protector of this fallen kingdom, and how terrible it is that she is to bear the responsibilities of the once so revered king...)

...So maybe a niece instead?

(Perhaps niece would work better—he can’t go and become too fond of the come and goers who eventually leave, just as how the Troupe will part from these ruins eventually too. But alongside that, there was an amusing term he had learned a few kingdoms back from a grub who had claimed him as their... ‘cool uncle’ in feeling!)

(Truthfully, he had never really learned the semantics of family lines like that—never needed to anyways. Taking up the mantle as a Jester of no-one but the

Troupe leaves him snapping up little bits of information from the many different places they’ve visited.)

(And here he is, subconsciously trying to claim a familial title for himself when he’s the last person someone would want as family.)

...

“I had believed perhaps this would be a more successful performance than my usual song and dance.” he admits, jovial tone a little lacking, far less overplayed than it usually is.

“Though I haven’t the faintest idea why... I thought perhaps it would make her happier that I do something she could potentially partake in. Aer all, I had never........”

Sharp words echo in his mind. ‘You've never?’

..........He had never what? The same phrase worms itself way into his mind again, this time from his own tongue. The things he has never done, but... what? Why is it that he feels inclined, feels like he needs, with all of his foolish heart, to make up for something he isn't aware of? Of strings le undone, of time he had owed but had never given...

There’s something tugging at him faintly, trying to unmoor itself from the deepest parts of his mind yet shrouded in the familiar, now comforting mist of blazing warmth and flame. He tries to prod at the thought a little further, before the feeling escapes him.

(Or perhaps the flame that so carefully protects his mind, so caringly had swept it up, crisping it with its bright beauty and letting it smolder into ashes so that these vague thoughts may no longer cling to him.)

He had never......

......Well, he’s never done many things! What he does now though is what’s more important than ever, and if he so desires to try and chip at all the ‘nevers’, what better way to do it than travelling with the dear Troupe?

Unconsciously, he tugs at the hanging silks. Something to fiddle with if anything.

(His head feels foggy again, chest tight. That’s three aching pains today. Or more? He can’t tell.)

Then there’s the low voice of his dear friend, and the Jester tunes into what Brumm is saying. “...Have you shown Master your new performance?” He doesn’t see, or rather, he can’t see the solemn looks of the musician, can only hear the little ‘hrmm...’ that vibrates from his voicebox.

The song he’s playing comes to an end, and he draws the last note out, long and mournful.

“Ah, but of course. Though I must say I haven’t performed it for him officially other than in practice—it would do me well to hone my skills further! You don't suppose he's free currently?” Brumm is offering a distraction, he’s aware, but nonetheless, he wouldn’t turn down a moment with the Troupe Master when he’s been nothing but kind during pain days like this.

“He should be. I shall inform him then.” He inclines his head. “...Take care.”

Brumm bids him a gentle farewell, soon disappearing into the depths of the tent and leaving the Jester to his thoughts.

So.

...Thrice. Thrice, that those aching pains have visited him within this same hour, and he frowns. Thrice, and he doesn’t have an inkling as to how and where they could have come and gone, nothing but a lingering phantom sensation in his chest.

(He had talked about it with Brumm one time, when they were both musing over the ambiguity of their characters; life before the Troupe, faded and gone, just as with everyone else. Life with the Troupe, all that they’ve known, but a satisfactory life it is.)

Where little weird memory aches aren’t impossible, or even uncommon, but are well taken care of. Soothed even, by the Heart.

Ah yes, the Heart. It’s taken the entire Troupe under its care, hasn’t it? They’re all here with the gied masks that brands them as one with the Heart, they’re here for a reason.

And the comfort that so fills him is something overwhelming, bright and unrelenting, such is the way of a flame within the dark. It washes over the last of the tugging memory pains, and he lets it. Lets it singe and smolder, lets it drape its curtain of red over his mind, so that the ache in his chest will disappear.

All of the lingering worries, all the doubts are held alo by a bare thread— —and the Heart snips through it with ease, and the Fool is at peace.

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By @cloudcryptid

[nationalharryleague]

In the Long Green Grass

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: the fluffiest fluff with husband!harry  

Word count: 2K

A/N: Hi everyone!! Merry Christmas to all that celebrate!! this is my Secret Santa (run and organized by the lovely lu (@meetmymouth​) gift to the sweetest angel who walks among us miss hasibi (@peachybloomss​)!!! I hope you enjoy it my love!!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what everyone thinks in my ask! Thank you so much for reading!! 

*** 

You were stirred by the sounds of the waves crashing against the cliff outside the home as the early morning sun streamed in through the windows. A small huf and whine left your lips, always one to ask for just five more minutes in bed, before you climbed from underneath the warm plush blankets and your toes hit the icy and worn wood floors beneath you.

The buttery yellow sunlight thwarted your plans to fight yourself back to sleep for those last few moments, prompting you to reach out your arms in a longing stretch. You released a light and sleepy hum of surprise when your arm hit a tiny furry body, and not the arm of the man who loved to sleep late in the bed beside you. Peeping one eye open, you made eye contact with Piper, Harry’s small jet black cat with glowing green eyes who was laying next to you, curled up on sheets that still held the indent of his body in them.

Piper wore a face of annoyance, obviously blaming you for interrupting her precious beauty sleep, and her eyes followed your body as you forced yourself out of the bed with one goal: find Harry.

Harry had a habit of disappearing, especially in a new place where there was just so much to explore. He was a wanderer (and an aquarius); always on the move, carried along by a thought or idea he just couldn’t resist. It was hard for him to sit still, a trait he probably picked up after tour after tour after tour, never allowing himself the luxury of rest or relaxation after it was never allowed to him. That was why you had insisted he needed time away from the city, finding a perfect spot in a small cottage that sat on the edge of a cliff along the ocean with a back garden full of sweet smelling flowers and tall cushony grass.

You tiptoed carefully down the spiral staircase that lovingly let out groans underfoot, still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, into a kitchen that looked straight out of a fairytale. It was small with moss green cabinets and large bay windows that filled the space with light that kept the seemingly hundreds of plants in the house happy and thriving. A cool ocean breeze came in through the open windows of the small breakfast nook, bringing along the scent of a fresh pot of coffee that sat on the butcher block countertops like it had been waiting for you to wake all along. While you felt a jump of excitement within you for the coffee, it still hadn’t been what (or who) you were looking for, even though you were very glad you found it.

A sweet cup of coffee was thoughtfully prepared in a tea cup you had found in the cabinet with small wisteria flowers painted around it’s rim. You knew Harry would poke fun at your cup choice if he were there. “Tea cups are for tea,” you could hear him say, perking up the edges of your mouth into a gentle smile as you sipped it carefully. But the flowers reminded you of the beautiful wisteria tree that flowed in the wind and scattered it’s petals all over the back garden; you just couldn’t pass it up.

It took you quite a while to find him, even with the new found caffeinated energy running through your system. You had run into the two other cats at the house, both rather chubby tabbys named Jack and Gus, that called this back garden home on your search and you obviously had to say good morning. The two rubbed themselves up against your legs, begging for a scratch behind the ear and a bit of attention, and you obliged. Who were you to deny them of it?

The garden the cats got to call home was a dream. It was filled with every variety of colorful flower imaginable and blanketed in a sweet air that always hovered over the space. Your favorites were the small peachy blooms that smelled of sugary perfume. A stone fence ran the perimeter of the yard, a white picket fence in the middle opening to a swath of overgrown grass that swayed in the wind on a hill. If you squinted, you could see the house of the couple you were renting the cottage from, but they were far enough away it felt like you were the only people around for miles.

When you spotted a Harry-shaped hole in the tall grass up the hill, you had a sneaking suspicion you had found your missing husband.

The tall grass squished beneath your feet as you climbed the hill, creating a soft padding below, and the long blades tickled against your bare legs as you made your way towards him, still only dressed in one of his perfectly worn t-shirts from the night before.

“There you are,” you hummed happily when you reached him, standing above him as he layed in the grass. “I thought that I lost you.”

He looked like a renaissance painting as he laid in the grass that was dotted with small pink and purple wildflowers. His curls had gotten a little longer during his much needed break and they splayed out around his head in delicate ringlets like a halo. The light from the still rising sun bounced off his slightly dewy skin, giving him a glow that lit him up even more than usual. Stubble danced across his cheeks and jaw, framing his perfectly pink lips that held a gentle smile as he looked up at you from the ground. And his eyes squinted slightly, shielding his pupils from the ever growing brightness of the sky, creating delicate little wrinkles around his sea glass green eyes that looked so vibrant in the light.

A worn book that you hadn’t seen before, bound in dark green leather with gold detailing, sat on his chest; Poems for Lovers: A Collection was embossed delicately across the cover.

“You’ll never lose me,” he mumbled up at you, a gravel in his voice like it was the first time he had used it that day. You had been married for almost two years and had been together for five, but your cheeks never failed to redden when he spoke sweet nothings like that. “Good morning, angel,” he said softly, reaching his hand up for yours.

You moved to place your hand in his, but ended up only linking your pinkies together in the process; a light tug from the man below you signaled for you to join him on the ground. You couldn’t resist, sitting yourself down with your legs crossed in front of you on the slightly damp ground next to him, pinkies still locked together.

“Morning,” you greeted. “I missed you in bed. Piper isn’t much of a cuddler,” you chuckled while absentmindedly playing with his fingers, twirling his wedding band.

“She’s not very nice, is she?” he smiled, opening his eyes fully to meet yours as you strategically moved your body to block his delicate eyes from the sun. “I’m sorry my cat’s a bitch,” he joked. “She still thinks she’s my number one girl.”

“I tell her I’m sorry that I stole her spot in bed all the time, she never listens. Won’t even have a civil chat with me about it,” you teased sarcastically.

Harry let out an enthusiastic giggle at your words; it was high pitched, and came from his belly in loud bursts of air. His cheeks scrunched up and forced his eyes closed because he was smiling so wide, crinkling the corners of his eyes once again. His laughter was infectious and you couldn’t help but join in.

You two must have looked insane, sitting in the grass in a field in the middle of nowhere just after dawn, laughing like idiots. But you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Well, a few more hours of sleep wouldn’t have hurt.

As your gigges died down, you turned your attention to the book resting on his chest. “You ditched me in bed for a book?” you teased, letting the remaining laughter escape your body.

“I couldn’t sleep and I found it on one of the bookshelves. I thought it would be nice to read in the grass and watch the sun come up.”

“You should have woken me up. I could have thought of a few things we could have done to tire you out.” A smirk played on your lips as you tapped your chin, pretending to think, as you watched his eyes grow in amusement from your innuendo.

“You looked too peaceful sleeping. Also, drool and bedhead don’t really turn me on if I’m being honest.” It was your turn to react to his teasing.

Your jaw dropped in feigned offence and your finger flew over your shoulder to point back at the cottage. “I can go back if you’d like your privacy,” you said incredulously and with dramatics, until a few chuckles broke through and your resolve softened once again.

“Oh no no no,” he spoke with a grin, “come here,” moving the book and tapping his chest for you to rest your head on. You turned yourself around to lay yourself on the ground, placing your head on his chest and listening to his steady and calming heartbeat.

“How are your poems?” you asked, referencing the book he was now holding in his hands.

“They are very good. I’m glad I found it.” His voice reverberated under your head as he spoke, and you rose and fell softly with his breath.

“Read me your favorite.”

“Okay,” he began, thumbing through the pages as he held the book above both your heads. You listened as he let out a small “ah, here it is,” before he dramatically cleared his throat. “You might remember me talking about this one already, but I love it.”

You knew he loved it before he even began reading anything. He loved his poetry, especially when they were about love. Harry was a hopeless romantic at heart, often saying to you and interviewers “I just love love.” He loved falling in love with you and becoming a team, just as much as you did with him.

“It’s called The Wait,” he spoke gently, his voice taking on a deeper and more enunciated quality. You recognized the poem immediately, as it was the one referenced on his pants for the Vogue cover shoot. He had dedicated it to you then, and was doing it again now in the grass. “It seemed like years before I picked a bouquet of kisses off her mouth and put them into a dawn-colored vase in my heart,” he began. He spoke slowly and smoothly with the consistency and sweetness of honey. “But the wait was worth it,” he continued. “Because I was in love.”

You couldn’t help but think of your own story as he read. He had chased after you for years, with you always insisting that he was your best friend and you were afraid to ruin that. But gradually, your best friend became your lover, and your lover became your husband.

“I like that one a lot too.” You spoke softly and with reflection. “It reminds me of us.”

“That’s why it’s my favorite.”

You two layed in the grass for hours, not a care in the world, as he read from the book. Every poem took you two on a journey into a love story, one that for the two of you only existed on the page, but told of a very real love that couldn’t have been dishonestly written.

But with how you felt in the moment, with the joy and loving warmth you felt in your belly, you were sure you could write a million poems about the love you had with him.

Thank you so much for reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean the world!!! 

[tetsuroyaoyaoya]

I Like You a Latte

iwaizumi hajime x reader

masterlist

synopsis: in which hajime learns to appreciate the art that is coffee, as well as the cute barista responsible for his drinks every morning. 

“Coffee is my energy; it’s my life, my soul, it’s-”

“Tōru, we get it, you’re dead inside just like the rest of us. Now can you please get me that slice of lemon cake I asked you for?” You stared in disbelief as your coworker physically stomped his foot, as if he was throwing a toddler tantrum. He grumbled about it underneath his breath, but eventually tottled over to the cake fridge to fetch you what you wanted. 

“Y/n-channn! Don’t you love working here with me?” Avoiding answering, you took the wrapped up cake from him and put on your best smile as you handed it to one of your regulars, along with their favourite drink.

“Enjoy! Have a nice day!” The smile was gratefully returned, and you immediately got onto making the next drink. 

Being a café fairly close to the centre of a college campus, there was always a rush in the morning without fail, due to the hundreds of students rushing in to get their fix of caffeine before their nine o'clock lectures. However, someone had to work those shifts, and since most of your classes fell in the afternoon, you were that person most of the time. 

Four times a week, you worked the open shift, with a different co-worker every time, seen as most didn't have the same schedule as you and so could only work the shift on their days off. 

Today was Tōru’s day.

While Oikawa was sometimes difficult to work work with, his people skills were unmatched, and he could start up a conversation with pretty much anyone that walked up to the counter. It helped that he was attractive as well, meaning that there were people that came by just on the off chance that they’d have an opportunity to talk to the ‘prettiest boy on campus’. You didn't understand it one bit, but it brought in customers and made the shop more money, so you couldn't really complain. 

“Y/n-channn?” Without looking up from the drink you were pouring, you rolled your eyes, seriously not understanding he boy’s overwhelming amount of energy so early in a morning. 

“My friend is late for his lecture, can you make him a drink in advance so it’s ready for when he gets here?” After handing the drink to the customer and wishing them well, you glanced around the shop, noticing that the rush was finally at its end and the shop was pretty much empty by now. 

“Sure. What does he want?” Walking back to the machine, you tapped the used coffee grounds out of the portafilter before preparing more, ready to pull some shots. 

“He said just a coffee.” You let out an audible sigh. ‘Just a coffee’ was one of your most hated phrases, and you were too far into your shift to deal with someone like that, especially so early in the day.

Instead of asking him to specify, you just chose for him, going with a simple latte, knowing it was the most basic drink, and hopefully you could cheer the guy up with some fancy art on top. 

You heard the bell on the door chime just as you were pouring the milk, whoever it was being in what sounded like a major rush. 

“Iwa-chan!” 

“Shittykawa, hurry up. I’m late.” Furrowing you eyebrows at the tone, you finished up the drink, a beautiful swan sitting atop the latte. Placing the drink on the counter, you looked over to the register just as Tōru’s friend finished paying. Your eyes widened slightly as he turned just enough for you to see his face, knowing that you shouldn’t be surprised that even your coworkers friends were hot, seen as attractive people always tended to attract each other. 

You made sure to smile extra wide as he rushed over, only for him to completely ignore you. Instead, he grabbed a handful of sugar packets, pouring them into the drink all at once, completely ruining the design as he stirred them in as fast as he could. 

“Enjoy!” You tried you best to stay amiable as he merely grunted in thanks, throwing his trash away before walking out of the store. 

You stared after his in disbelief for a second, having not encountered a customer that rude in a while.

“For such a pretty face, his attitude is horrible. You’re friends with that guy?” Oikawa didn’t look overly concerned, but his smile was a bit tighter than his usual carefree expression, so you guessed that was a bit out of the ordinary. 

“Uh, well, he’s always a bit indifferent, but he must be in a pretty bad mood today. Sorry about that.” He was slightly guilty for getting you to make his friend’s drink only to be treated like that but you brushed it off, having worked in customer service so long that it rarely affected you anymore. 

“I’ll get him to apologise the next time he stops by! I can’t have him upsetting my precious Y/n-chan!” You giggled as he tried to catch you in a hug, only for you to sidestep him, watching as he stumbled past. 

“Stop being silly and go clean the shop floor, please?” He righted himself, and you handed him a cloth along with the disinfectant spray so he could wipe down the tables while you tidied the bar.

“Anything for you Y/n-chan!”

                                   ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was just two days later when you saw Oikawa’s friend again, entering the café a lot earlier than he had the first time. You were the only one working currently, the second barista not being due to start for another half an hour or so with it being so quiet before the morning rush.

Before you could even greet him, he stopped in his tracks and stared at you for a moment. You paused yourself, extremely confused, but he merely shook his head and continued making his way to the register. 

“Shi- uh, Oikawa said I was a bit rude to you the other day and I just wanted to apologise. I was having a rough morning and didn't realise I was being a dick, so I’m sorry.” Your lips twitched upwards in amusement at how genuinely guilty he looked, and you knew Tōru must have exaggerated how annoyed you actually were. 

“It’s fine, honestly. We all have those mornings. Can I get you anything?” He seemed grateful that you weren't holding a grudge and took a quick look at the menu. You watched as he squinted at the board above you, knowing he didn't have a clue what any of the drinks were. 

“Shall I just make you the same as last time?” He was grateful at the lack of judgement in your tone, and nodded immediately. You put it through the register and he paid, before moving over to the counter to wait while you got started. 

“I hope you weren't late for your lecture.” His eyes followed your every move, but you paid it no mind as you prepared the coffee, only looking up at him once you began steaming the milk, seen as he hadn't answered you yet. 

He blinked, cursing at himself for being to distracted, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself at his absentmindedness. After all, you couldn't deny how cute he was. 

“Only by a few minutes, but the professor was even later, so I got away with it.” You giggled as you pulled the jug away from the steam arm, wiping it down and purging it clean.

He found himself leaning forward slightly to get a better look as you poured it into the cup, swirling and wiggling the jug in a way that he didn't understand. 

Didn't you just pour it in?

A few seconds later, you were placing the cup on the counter so he could admire your work. 

“A... snail?” He continued to stare at it as you wiped down the counter in front of the machine. 

“It’s cute, right?” He looked completely clueless and you smiled to yourself. 

“Okay, so this is a latte. It’s not as strong as the others and more milky. You can use the milk to make art on the top like this.” He stared at you, lips parted slightly, obviously still knowing exactly what you were telling him. 

“You won't know the difference between types until you try more of them.” He grinned, already reaching for the sugar.

“Is that an invitation to see you more often?” It wasn't something that you hadn't heard before, and yet it still made your heart flutter ever so slightly. 

“Depends if you drop in when I’m here.” Handing him the lid to cover his drink, his fingertips brushed yours, sending tingles through your hand. Swallowing heavily, you hoped he hadn’t noticed and distracted yourself by brushing down your apron, even though it wasn't dirty. 

“Well, I hope I see you around.” He shot you a dazzling smile before walking out of the door, almost bumping into your second barista as she arrived for her shift. Finding yourself at a sudden loss for words, you could only nod at her as you handed her the keys to the staffroom, ignoring the odd look she gave you.

Maybe he wasn't all that bad. 

                                   ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn’t actually see Oikawa’s friend after that, and out of curiosity - or maybe stupidness - you decided to inquire about his absence the next time you were working with him. 

“Iwa-chan? Oh, I haven't really seen much of him lately. Not ever since he started seeing his new girlfriend.” Girlfriend?

“Oh, okay.” Oikawa frowned at your tone, assuming that you wouldn't think anything of it, seen as you barely knew him. He decided not to push, but noticed that you were in a particularly foul mood for the rest of the shift, barely even glancing at him as you clocked out. 

Strange. 

                                   ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was another week before Iwaizumi stepped into the café again, but he was disappointed to see that you weren't on the bar with Oikawa. There were a few people in line, but as smooth as he was, he was handling the shop in his usually calm and carefree manner. 

“Iwa-chan!” Even in the middle of making a drink, Tōru still managed to wave at him, earning a mere nod in response as he walked up to the counter.

“Where’s your friend?” He stepped out of the way so that a customer could collect their drink, only just catching Tōru’s frown. 

“Y/n? They have an exam later so they took the day off. They’re over there.” A nod to the other end of the store and sure enough, you were sat hunched over the table in a hoodie that looked one size too big, scribbling frantically in a notebook. 

“Actually, can you take this over to them? I meant to do it, but then it got busy.” By the time Iwaizumi looked back at the drink Oikawa had placed on the counter in front of him, he was already off serving another customer, not really giving him a choice. 

The drink didn't look like the ones you had made for him, and not nearly as pretty. It looked the colour of coffee but it was iced, chilling his hands as he carried it over to your table. 

You almost jumped when he sat it down in front of you, looking up as he took the seat across from you. 

“Long time, no see.” He gave you a smile, and you tried to give him one back, but your usual enthusiasm was nowhere to be seen. Your eyes were rimmed red, and you had a red mark on the side of your neck, presumably from rubbing it every time you got stressed. He didn't like it. 

“So, what drink today?” He nudged the cup towards you, and you took it, mixing it around with your straw. 

“Iced white chocolate mocha.” Iwaizumi stared at you blankly, questions already running through his mind.

What in the world was a mocha? And iced chocolate? What? 

You managed a low chuckle at his visible confusion, holding your drink out towards him.

“Try it.” You expected him to take the entire drink from you, but instead, he leaned down, taking the straw between his lips as he had a sip. You tried not to blush, looking away for a second. 

The drink was sweet, maybe too sweet for him, but he could definitely taste the chocolate. There was coffee in there as well, but it was all cold. 

Weird.

You cleared your throat and took a sip of your own, desperately trying not to think about the fact that you may have just shared an indirect kiss. 

“A normal mocha is basically just a hot chocolate with espresso. An iced mocha is the same but made with chocolate syrup and milk, ice, and espresso.” He seemed to understand this one a bit more than the last drink you explained, earning a nod from him. 

“Just ask Tōru to surprise you and he’ll make you something on the menu to try.” As if he knew you were talking about him, he waved over in your direction, making you smile. 

“I don't think it would taste as nice if you aren't the one making it.” He got up anyway, making his way back to the register to order something, leaving you dumbfounded, alone once again to carry on studying. 

                                   ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Once again, Iwaizumi disappeared for a couple weeks, and with finals coming up, you had been forced to change your work schedule in order to fit you exams and study time around your shifts. This meant you had barely worked any morning shifts, opting instead for closing ones. So, whenever the boy actually dropped in, using coffee as an excuse to see you, you were never there. 

That was, until one storming night, you were just getting ready to start cleaning the entire shop after closing, when the bell on the door rang through the shop.

“I’m sorry, we’re clo-” You stopped dead in your tracks as the door slammed close, a flash of lighting illuminating the shop. 

A dripping wet Iwaizumi stared back at you, hair completely flattened instead of its usual spikiness, dripping rainwater over his face, almost hiding his stony expression.

“Oh my- Are you okay?” You rushed into the back, grabbing the blanket and hoodie Oikawa always kept in the staff room for napping on his breaks. 

You tried your best to help him get dry, but he just brushed you off, so you stepped back and let him do it himself. 

“She broke up with me.” Swallowing heavily, you could only watch as he brushed his hair back, out of his eyes. it meant you could finally see his entire face and you froze as his eyes landed back on you, staring you down. 

He didn't look all too sad, you only being able to see his regular indifference. Even so, he looked breathtaking, and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. 

“Sit down. I’ll make you a drink.” He did as you said, and you quickly distracted yourself as he pulled off his jacket, fingers finding the hem of his shirt to take that off as well to replace it with Oikawa’s hoodie. You daren't look, instead turning your back to him to stare at the tray of cakes you had prepared to throw out, seen as you could only keep them displayed for so long. 

You loaded a separate tray up with a few cupcakes, as well as the last slice of the best cake the café offered, before deeming it had been long enough for Iwaizumi to change and plucking up the courage to start on the drinks. 

Luckily, you had judged right, and he was currently sat in one of the comfier chairs, wrapped like a burrito in the blanket. 

It was one of the cutest things you had ever seen. 

“Today we have a plain ol’ hot chocolate. I don't think you need me to explain this one.” He smiled at you, amused, and you felt a small sense of victory. 

You placed the cake onto the table and slid it over to him, picking one of the forks up off of the tray and holding it out. He took it, but nudged the cake back towards you until it was in the middle of the both of you. 

“Let’s share.” He mimicked you, handing you the other fork. 

A silence settled over the shop for a moment as you both took a bite of the cake, savouring the taste. 

“So, what happened?” He let out a sigh, tongue darting out to catch a crumb stuck on his lip. 

“She said it was like I was always itching to be somewhere else. With someone else.” Oh. So he liked someone else? 

“I brought her here once, when you weren't working. She knew something was up when I asked where you were before even ordering.” You almost choked on the forkful of cake you were eating, having to cover your mouth to prevent yourself from spitting it out and embarrassing yourself. 

“Me?” He chuckled at you, placing his fork down on the table despite not being finished yet. 

“Yes, you. It was you I was looking for. It has been ever since I stepped foot in here.” You could only blink at him, reminding him of all the times he had the same reaction when you tried to educate him on the drinks you made, only to not understand any of it. 

“Uh, o-oh, um...” He smiled at you fondly as you struggled to find something to say. 

“It’s fine if you don’t like me back, I mean-”

“I do!” You immediately covered your face with your hands, having practically screamed at him. You could feel your skin heating up, and you could think of nothing better than hiding away from him forever. 

Fingers wrapped around your wrists, and your hands were pulled away from your face, Iwaizumi leaning over the table with a lopsided smile. 

“Good.” He pulled one of your hands closer to his face, placing a lingering kiss over your fingers, before letting it go and doing the same with the other.

You were left utterly flustered as he carried on eating his cake like it was nothing, but you could definitely see the dusting of pink on his cheeks, causing your own embarrassment fade away. 

“Just a warning, shittykawa will try to come on dates with us, so be ready.” 

Oikawa was actually elated to hear that you two had somehow gotten together, mainly because it meant his best friend visited the shop whenever you were working, however, he wasn't as pleased when you both ignored him completely in favour of each other, leaving him to deal with the shop all by himself. 

You continued to teach your new boyfriend about all the different types of coffee he was missing out on, soon making your way through the entire menu. He had his favourites, but he always enjoyed whatever you made, purely because you made it - something that whenever he told you that, you would try and climb over the counter to hit him.

He was also prepared for you to try that, even when you were in tears, crying in happiness as he lowered himself onto once knee, the opening line of his proposal being;

“I like you a latte.” 

J: this was almost an Akaashi fic, but y’all already know that mans is cultured and don't need no one to teach him about coffee. 

[chaseatinydream]

sly san who sacrifices (iii) || c.s (atz)

➳ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➳ word count: 2580

➳ genre: badboy au; fluff; angst

➳ synopsis: to the school, he may be a bad boy, the worst of the worst, but to you, he’s choi san, father of three cats, your best friend and ultimately, the boy you’re in love with.

>>>

You’re sitting at one of the tables in the open area of the coffee shop, watching the birds flutter gracefully overhead as they caw to one another. The bright, multicolored walls of the surrounding shop houses brighten the area, hydrangeas reaching upwards like meandering fingers, their pretty white blooms looking like the puffy white clouds in the blue sky above them.

There’s almost something magical about this moment, at this little coffee shop. It holds so many memories for you and your best friend, from the very first time you learned that the school’s fearsome bad boy only liked his coffee tooth rottingly sweet to the many lighthearted chats you’d had over a shared frappe even though San was rich enough to buy twenty of his own.

You know this place like it’s the back of your hand, memories tugging at you from every little mismatched table and chair, the chimes dangling from the front door like music to your ears. By all means, this should be a peaceful day for you, sipping coffee at your usual spot with the perfect weather to accompany it... But today?

It’s anything but that.

They spill from the inside of you before you can stop them.

“I think I like San.”

When the words leave your mouth, they’re something along the lines of what you’d call a revelation. It’s as if your eyes have been opened to the truth, like something has been hiding it from you all this while, buried under layers of platonic feelings and the label of mere friendship. It feels like a thousand galaxies have exploded in the space of a single breath, stars and suns dying out all at once, an entire swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You turn to the one sitting opposite you. Park Seonghwa, resident school badboy, kitten lover and one of your new best friends, returns your gaze over the rim of his cup, eyelashes fluttering a little as he takes in your words. Your breath catches and you lean forward in your chair, waiting for him to react, waiting for his verdict...

If you are expecting some form of surprise, a trace of shock, at least, you are sorely disappointed. The older boy merely takes a long, relaxed sip of his cappuccino, sets down the cup with way too much calm for a moment such at this and nods with all the patience of a sage.

“I know.”

He knows?

You nearly choke on your own coffee, turning around to cough rather ungracefully as the hot caffeine scalds your throat. At the sound of your sputtering, Seonghwa yelps in alarm and rushes around the table to slap your back gently in some attempt to help you, “Are you alright?”

You wave him off, setting down your cup unsteadily as you wheeze for air. A little of the coffee spills over the rim and onto the cup. “Y-yeah... Just... Give me a moment.”

As you wipe your mouth, you try to collect your thoughts. What does Seonghwa mean by the fact that he knows? You’ve never told anyone else but him! Hell, even you just found out yourself!

“How-” You cough again and Seonghwa almost reaches over to pat you on the back once more. “How did you know?”

Seonghwa’s hand falters for a split second before it touches you and returns to his side, where it rests next to his half finished cup of coffee, a curious frown pulling on his lips. “I’ll answer your question if you answer mine. When did you realise that you like San-ie?

Your eyebrows pinch together as you try to determine the exact point of time you had realised this fact. Thinking back, you wind back your memories like the film on a cassette tape, watching endearing moments and listening to seemingly simple words replay in your mind over and over again.

The feeling in your chest started about a month ago, when you had been over at San’s house one day after school. San had decided to play truant, calling the lessons boring and had somehow dragged you along with him even though you’d protested the entire way. Claude had nearly had a coronary when the two of you had rung the doorbell of the front gates, lecturing San like a stern father the entire way into the main house. But instead of turning the same venomous gaze onto Claude as San did to all his teachers, your best friend had merely worn a happy smile as he listened to his butler’s nagging, looking the most content you’d ever seen him.

It was still early in the day and you were exhausted from being practically kidnapped by your best friend, so San had suggested playing with his pets. The two of you had sat on the white marbled floors of the mansion’s entry hall, Shiber curled up in San’s lap while you curled your fingers through Darong’s soft grey fur. It had been a warm, peaceful afternoon, and while nothing especially significant had happened at all, you remembered the conversation the two of you had had as if it were just yesterday.

“Doesn’t this feel like a family?”

You paused in stroking Darong, the tiny cat mewing in protest when your hand stilled against its fur. Frowning, you turned around to look at San a little more clearly, taking in the way he was casually lounging against the wall of the hallway. Dressed in sweats and a simple hoodie with a small Shiba Inu snoozing in his lap, he looked nothing like the rebel he was in school, so intensely focused on scratching Shiber behind the ears that you’d briefly wondered if he had said anything at all.

“What did you say?” You asked, reaching to scratch Puchi under the chin and you felt the larger cat purr ever so softly, entire body vibrating as he sank into your touch. The smile came to San’s lips naturally, his eyes never leaving Shiber as he spoke with ease, seemingly lost in thought.

“This. Us.” He emphasized, rolling his lower lip between his teeth. Your eyes were involuntarily drawn to that minute action, fingers slowing under Puchi’s head as you waited for him to elaborate. “This kind of feels like a family, don’t you think?”

You thought about it for a moment, fully intent on teasing him for a moment... but there was something quiet, somber, even, in his tone that stopped you from doing so. Frowning a little, you cocked your head and asked aloud, voice laced with curiosity.

“How so?”

“Well...” San dragged the word out thoughtfully, squeezing Shiber lightly. The dog let out a tiny ‘woof’ and buried his face deeper into San’s belly, sniffing the hem of his master’s shirt. But San didn’t react at all, eyes lost in some imaginary world you couldn’t quite see. “I could be the dad and you could be the mom, you know. And they could be our kids.”

His free hand, the one that wasn’t resting on the ruff of Shiber’s collar, pointed at the two cats in your lap and for a second, something delicate and soft, like the wings of a butterfly, brushed the edges of your heart.

“Yeah.” You breathed softly, as if you could break the precious silence of the room by speaking just a little too loud, closing your own eyes. “We could be.”

“I’m not sure... Probably a while ago.” You try to play it off. There’s something just too intimate about that moment to you, too precious for you to reveal to even Seonghwa. The blond haired boy merely shrugs, taking a mouthful of his latte. The two of you sit in peaceful silence for a while and you take the opportunity to ponder your thoughts.

San.

Your best friend.

There’s something about him that’s just... different. You aren’t sure how to describe the lightness that you feel when you’re with him, how he seems to intuitively know what to do whenever you’re feeling down. Everyone may call him a rebel, violent, reckless, but really, you know that he is a kind person at heart.

“You’ve changed him, you know?” Seonghwa tells you softly and you’re startled out of your thoughts, staring at him in surprise. You’re utterly confused, quite unable to comprehend his words.

“What do you mean?” You nearly trip over your words in your haste, but Seonghwa merely smiles gently at you, patting your hand with his own. “Ever since coming to this school and meeting you, San has really become so different. From someone who didn’t care about who he hurt, from a person who cared only for himself and enjoyed playing others like they were his own dolls, he’s become so much more... human.”

“What? Nah.” You try to wave his words off, feeling a little embarrassed. There’s no way you could have changed San so much. “San was already a nice person from the beginning, that’s how we got so close-”

“Did he ever tell you why he was expelled from his former school?” Seonghwa asks, voice serious and you halt, swallowing nervously. You know that San had been kicked out of his former school due to misbehavior on his part, but how serious could it be?

“No?”

“He got involved with a drug gang and dealing in contraband. That’s where he met Wooyoung.” Seonghwa tells you grimly and your mouth falls open in horror. You can’t comprehend exactly how serious that must have been. “And while he was high he got reckless and nearly beat another student half to death under the influence. The two of them got expelled together and came here.”

The rest of his words are left unsaid.

Where he met you.

“But... he met the rest of you... of ATEEZ!” You blabber furiously, head spinning in circles now. You don’t know what to say. “I mean, I’m sure all of you would have changed him for the better too! You’re all good friends who’d do anything for each other, wouldn’t you?”

Seonghwa nods firmly without a second’s hesitation at your words, fingers drumming on the side of his cup. “True. I’d do anything for any of my friends. But you see, there’s something different between good friends... and those who are good influences. If San came to any of us with a problem, we’d likely try to beat up the problem for him, take him out to the bar, encourage him to sleep his problem off.” You can’t help but let out a little snort at his words, but Seonghwa hushes you with a sad smile. “But with you? You teach San to rein in his anger, to keep his cool, to be the best person he can possibly be. He wants to be a good person for you.”

You’re stunned into silence.

“But-” You can barely find the words to protest with, reeling from shock. Did you... really do that to San?

“Think back on who he used to be. Whoring around, drinking till the wee hours of morning, hanging out late at parties.” Seonghwa tells you honestly. “But after meeting you, we barely see him there anymore. For example, last Tuesday’s party at Changbin’s house-”

“San, I’m stressed!”

“Oh?” Your best friend’s amused voice came over the phone as you whined and flopped onto your bed, notes sprawled over the sheets. “Isn’t the test tomorrow?”

You sat up so fast you could feel the bones in your back creaking, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How do you of all people know that there’s a test tomorrow?”

“You’ve been ranting about it for the past week, silly.” He said so fondly that you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Could you bring over Darong for me to pet?” You joked, closing your eyes as you imagined running your fingers through the kitten’s soft fur. San’s house was at the opposite side of town, you mused to yourself in disappointment. What a pity, or you would have headed over to his mansion to give the small cat hugs and kisses-

Minutes later after you had hung up, San had arrived at your doorstep, a soft grey kitten in a basket under his arm and a stack of notes in his hands. Upon seeing your dumbstruck face, he had merely grinned, bopped you on the nose and jerked his head at the door.

“Wanna study together?”

“I told him I was stressed out over tests and he came over to study with me.” You recall, eyes widening. You weren’t aware that there was a party last Tuesday! “San didn’t tell me-”

“He wanted to spend time with you.” Seonghwa informs you gently, shaking his head in light amusement. “And we both know-”

“-San hates studying.” You finish off his sentence and Seonghwa chuckles softly, nodding. Then his smile softens into something a little more warm, a little more sweet and you can’t help but return it, your thoughts wandering to San.

Has he really changed that much?

“True love changes people.” Seonghwa tells you, beaming. “And even if you didn’t love San, I honestly think he’s already fallen for you. Hard, actually.”

Now that you can wave off confidently. “Nah, he just sees me as a friend.”

The side of Seonghwa’s lip quirks upwards and he leans forward, thumb swiping a bit of cream smudged on the side of your mouth and you yelp in shock, batting his hand away. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. “Seonghwa-oppa, what are you-”

“San does that to you all the time, you know?” Seonghwa grins, a mischievous grin playing on his lips and you blanch in realisation. You’d never realised-

Suddenly, it starts raining.

“Let’s go!” Seonghwa grabs your wrist and the two of you run for shelter, Seonghwa pulling you under the canvas of the shop’s awning. You’re breathless, wet from the rain, but you can’t help but laugh brightly as the truth comes to you, so much more clear this time.

“I love San.” You say louder this time and Seonghwa smiles near radiantly at you, slinging his leather jacket around your shoulders. It’s warm, but you crave for the thick wool of San’s red coat, the familiar scent that lingers there at the collar.

You want him.

“So take this until San gives you his coat instead.” He laughs and you wrap your arms around him to give him a big hug.

“Thank you, Seonghwa-oppa.”

The silver charms on your bracelet clink against each other as if calling to something, and you glance up in surprise.

There’s a lone man in the middle of the street, standing alone in the pouring rain, wearing a black coat and a cap tugged low over the his eyes, hands shoved in his pockets. Something about his posture, the slight sag of his shoulders and the way his head is tilted downwards, it makes you feel sad for him. Is he alright?

Squinting, you lean forward to catch a glimpse of his features, but the man merely hikes up the collar of the coat before you can see his face.

But he seems familiar... somehow.

“Seonghwa-oppa.” You tug at the older boy’s sleeve insistently, urgently, and he turns to look at you in confusion. You point at the man, certain that you’ve seen him somewhere before.

“Do you recognise him-”

But before you can finish your sentence, he’s already gone.

[angstmongertina]

A Moment of Peace

I started this around the time the closed beta came out and didn’t actually finish until literally the night the game is released but oh well lol. But hey, I did finish before the game is released, at least?

Also, I used the name Artem because I didn't want to have to figure out how to deal with the Lawyer Zuo vs. Artem usage between Chinese and English.... and also because I couldn't remember Celestine's Chinese name lol.

Cross-posted on AO3.

Sometimes, she doesn’t know how he does it.

Actually, if she is to be perfectly honest with herself, most of the time, she doesn’t know how he does it.

Within the firm, she already has a reputation for putting in long hours. After all, as a relative newcomer to the Stellis legal scene, still only a few years out of law school herself, she knows that she still has plenty of work to do in order to establish herself in the field, to climb the ranks of the legal world and prove to the rest of Stellis City, as well as herself, that she deserves to be at Themis.

And even so, Artem still far outpaces her work ethic, leaving her to wonder more than once whether he ever actually leaves the building.

As such, it isn’t exactly surprising for her to leave the room and find the light still on in his office as she makes her way to the break room, an empty mug in one hand and her pile of notes in the other. After all, as she juggles between her cases and the upcoming attorney test, he is left picking up her slack, and while he might have volunteered more than once for the task with his usual calm expression, the concept of putting even more on his already full plate still sits poorly in her stomach.

Particularly since she has no clue where he’s even managing to squeeze the time to help her out of, given the seemingly endless collection of cases vying for his attention.

Pursing her lips, she contemplates the coffee machine for one, long, moment before shaking her head with more reluctance than she cares to admit against the siren call of caffeine. Instead, she reaches for the box of chamomile, a not-so-subtle gift from Celestine soon after her sudden and unexpected trip to the hospital—yet another of the now too many to count times that she has found herself in Artem’s debt—and prepares two mugs, breathing in the warm comforting aroma.

If she closes her eyes, she can almost imagine that she’s at home, decompressing after a productive day without a care in the world…

With a sigh, she shakes her head again, this time to clear the daydream from her mind. Soon, perhaps, but she has a mission to complete first.

Tucking her notes under her arm, she makes her careful way to his office, nudging the door lightly with her shoulder before stepping inside. “Artem?”

She’s not surprised to find him still hunched over his desk, hard at work despite the late hour. In fact, the only visible signs of the time are his jacket, carefully lain aside on the couch, and his head propped up in one hand as he makes notes on whatever document he is in the process of perusing. At her voice, he looks up, blinking a few times at her before he jerks upright and she can’t help but follow his hands with her gaze as they reach for his tie, fidgeting with it slightly before drifting down to tug at his shirt cuffs.

“I… Eliana?”

With a jolt, she snaps her eyes back up to find his lips set into his usual faint smile, though with something unfamiliar twisting their corners, something that disappears the next instant as his face smooths back out to inscrutability with truly enviable ease. “What are you still doing here?”

She blinks. For just a split second, his expression was odd, almost shy, although that conclusion makes absolutely no sense, and she shakes her head, though whether it’s at his question or to dislodge her irrelevant, uncontrolled thoughts, she can’t say. Instead, she sets her shoulders, pushing it to the back of her mind, and offers him a smile of her own. “I think I should be asking you that question. But first…”

She glances down and he starts again, eyes widening as he follows her gaze. ”Oh, right. My apologies. Please, come in.”

As he moves to rise to his feet, she steps forward, reaching out an arm to wave him off before remembering and freezing too late. She can only watch, muttering a silent prayer to the god of fluids, as the tea sloshes dangerously close to the rim of the mug before settling back down, thankfully—if barely—avoiding spilling over.

She does not miss the noise from the desk that sounds suspiciously like a muffled chuckle.

Studiously avoiding his gaze, she contemplates his desk and the neat piles of notes and evidence before turning instead to the couch and his comparatively less cluttered coffee table. While papers still pepper the surface, as they inevitably do during complicated cases, it is easy enough to push them gently to the side, making a point to keep them at least somewhat organized.

“What are you—?”

She looks up, meeting his bemused gaze with a cheerful smile. “Giving you a hand. I’m your partner, after all.”

One eyebrow quirked, he huffs something that might have been a laugh. “Oh? How so? I need to—”

“Take a break,” she interjects smoothly. “Celestine told me that she came in early and even so, you got in before she did this morning.”

Something crosses his face, so quickly that she can’t identify it, before he releases a gentle sigh, though with a hint of a smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Of course she did. Meddling as always.”

“She’s concerned about you. As am I.” Before he can so much as open his mouth, she shakes her head. “I know the report needs to be finished and I’m here to help, but first, you need to take a break.”

When he only frowns, she sighs herself, though hers is with more reluctance than anything, particularly as she recalls the advice Celestine had seen fit to gift her with, wearing an impish smirk all the while.

But with Artem’s own diligence working against her… Well, desperate times and all.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she tilts her head, aiming for her most beseeching expression. “Don’t you trust me?”

It works just as well as, if not better than, Celestine promised; she can see the exact moment her words register, his eyes widening to an almost comical extent as a flush darkens his cheeks. Her resolve nearly crumbles on the spot, held together only by the knowledge that she is putting on the pressure for his own good.

“I… You…” He coughs, shaking his head as his face somehow manages to redden even more, beyond what she thought was even possible. “Of course I…” He sighs again, this time ringing of defeat, and mutters something under his breath, too low for her to make out.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, fidgeting once more with his tie before standing and stretching. “You’re right, of course.”

“Then come here.” She puts down the mugs, setting them side by side on the table, before plopping down on the couch and patting the spot next to her.

He sighs again, though it is belied by the warmth of his smile as he makes his way over, sitting down beside her with a long, slow exhale.

Glancing at him, she can’t help but frown. This close, it’s hard to miss the faint dark circles under his eyes, the strain tucked away in the corners of his mouth, the subtle signs of how much work he has been shouldering to help her. That Celestine noticed before she did, that she, his partner, needed it pointed out to her, is enough to make guilt, cold and swirling, pool in her gut.

“What’s the matter?”

And now he’s looking over her, brows pinched together with concern, and she almost denies everything on reflex before catching herself. Instead, she lets the worry she feels filter into her expression as she turns to face him fully.

“How late have you been staying? Are you that busy right now?”

The questions seem to catch him off guard; he shifts, a fleeting look of guilt, or perhaps shame, darting across his face before he smiles, a small, almost helpless curl of his mouth.

“I… would be lying if I said that I have a light load at the moment.”

It is not a direct admission, but also not prevarication either, and she can’t decide whether to be grateful or worried that he is even willing to admit how swamped he is, albeit in a roundabout sort of way. Grateful, since acknowledging the fact allows her to help, and worried because… Well, he must truly and rapidly be approaching overwhelmed to admit to such a thing so readily.

Taking a deep breath, she stamps down on the urge to apologize, though whether for forcing the admission or for not noticing earlier, not even she’s sure. Instead, she reaches for her mug, cradling its warmth between her palms before taking a slow sip. The warm, gentle fragrance fills her senses and she lets out a slow sigh of relief, feeling the stress of the day dissipate with the curling steam.

“You sound like you needed that.”

She feels her mouth curl into a smile without conscious thought and nods at the way he holds his, with almost reverence in his expression. “You as well.”

He inclined his head, a hint of a smile on his own lips. “Touché. It is very good though.”

“Celestine gave it to me, as a welcome back gift after…” She waves her hand vaguely, fighting the heat that, for some reason, wants to rise in her face every time she remembers that frantic, foolish trip to the hospital.

“Ah. Right.” Is it her imagination or do his cheeks also seem to flush as he takes another sip? “Well, it’s very good. And you could definitely use it.”

She clears her throat, determinedly putting it out of mind. “So could you, considering you’re still here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And you’re not?” His expression is almost a smirk as he nods towards her notes. “Still studying, I presume.”

“Oh. Yes.” She sighs again, putting her strangely loud pulse at his expression out of her mind and instead contemplating the pile of papers with something that feels vaguely like exasperation mixed with a hint of despair. “There’s just so much to review.”

But before she can actually pick them up, he reaches over, snagging them before she can, and flips through her scribbled comments and answers.

“Hey!”

She makes a grab for them but he turns away, just enough to be slightly out of reach, as he flips through them, his brow furrowed in either disapproval or concentration. “There is nothing for you to be concerned about.” He turns a page, scanning over the script with his typical intense scrutiny before nodding. “Thorough and carefully thought out, just as you’ve always done. I have no doubt you’ll—”

He cuts himself off when she leans over until her weight is practically resting on his side. Frozen as he is, she is finally able to reclaim the packet and grins at him, though whether she’s flushed from exertion, the small victory, or their sudden closeness, she can’t be sure.

“You…”

“You are supposed to be resting, not taking precious time to help me with studying.” He’s still just watching her, sea blue eyes wide with a mix of surprise and what on anyone else, she would call embarrassment, and part of her wants to twist away, to hide both the papers and her red cheeks from his piercing gaze, but something about his presence, his closeness, has her pinned into place; she’s not sure she can even if she tried. “I can...”

“You can study later as well.” His lips curl into a smile, small but true, and she can feel her breath catch in her throat at the tenderness shining in it, can feel her heart hammering in her chest, so loud that it’s a wonder he doesn’t hear it. “If I need a break, then so do you. I know you have been just as diligent in the past weeks.”

“I… will.”

“Good.” His smile widens, full of gentleness and approval and something more, something that she doesn’t dare—that she can’t dare—put a name to, but which shines like the sun, filling her with warmth, bringing heat to her cheeks, even as she has to avert her gaze from its brilliant radiance.

Still, the quiet that settles over them, a soft blanket against the threat of another late night, is calm, comfortable. She cradles the cup between her palms, feels the heat radiating out with the steam that curls in the air before her, pale and ephemeral in the silence that she is loathe to break.

Not now, while the weight of the day slowly dissipates from her shoulders, while her breathing settles and calms, matching the steady inhales at her side. The office, the city, the rest of the world even, fade away until there is nothing but the rapid beating of her heart and the warmth of the man beside her, his rich cedar scent mixing with the fragrance of her tea, his quiet breathing aligned with her own, his constant care and steadiness.

In this moment, it would be easy, so easy, to just lean her head down a little and let it drop onto his shoulder.

And so she does.

For a heartbeat, he tenses under its weight and she nearly recoils, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but before she can, he relaxes again, even as his exhale ruffles her hair. “And you were planning on going back to studying immediately?”

“Mm.”

She feels more than hears the low rumble of his chuckle, feels the warmth of his shoulder against her cheek shifting as he settles more comfortably. Feels her heartbeat speed up as a gentle weight presses against her temple, a soft sigh sounding in her ear.

Feels a smile tug on her lips as she closes her eyes and lets herself rest.

[tearsofsyrup]

quits

— Wonwoo was not aware that a way to counteract his perpetual insomnia was for the heating in his neighbor’s apartment to malfunction.

pairing. jeon wonwoo / reader

genre. fluff, (angst), neighbors au

word count. 3.6k

warnings. profanity

notes. i’m not sure where this came from. i like it, though. hopefully you do, too. if so, please let me know!

-

Wonwoo is sure he could map the cracks littering his ceiling from memory by now.

His limbs ache against his sheets from having been inactive for too long, lips drying and ears ringing beneath still silence. Dark quiet swallows the occasional shudder of his window under heavy winds, thick snowflakes turning the midnight’s sky a blurry gray. Wonwoo stays unmoving, eyelids heavy but remaining open, scrutinizing the aged white paint hovering a short ways above him.

It is cold, too. He would be more peeved with his apartment complex’s stinginess concerning temperature control if he were not sheltered from the consequences beneath his fat duvet, more or less his only escape from shivering in his own home in the winter.

A big toe twitches, a car is heard driving by along the street outside, someone drops something on the floor in the apartment overhead.

Wonwoo has a semi-important meeting tomorrow. Turning his head, he is met with red, angular numbers informing him that the supposed witching hour is fast approaching. An exasperated sigh breaks the silence. His eyelids force themselves shut.

He knows it will not work. No matter how slowly he makes himself breathe, no matter how many sheep he counts, no matter how still he lies. It does not work.

Eyes snap open after an unmeasured amount of time, familiar cracks above always too happy to meet them.

“Fuck it,” he tells himself before sitting up, bare feet flinching at first when they touch the cold wood covering his floors. His alarm clock is left to its own lonesome on his nightstand when the round glasses previously accompanying it find their rightful place on the bridge of Wonwoo’s nose.

Light taps sound throughout his apartment as he guides himself to the kitchen, momentarily swaying due to the fatigue clouding his consciousness. Wonwoo shakes his head subtly before pouring himself a cup of water, all five of his drinking glasses standing uncleaned in his sink. Chilly water slips between his lips.

The soothing effect of rehydrating himself has faded with the years, Wonwoo is poignantly reminded. It no longer compared once he found a better way to fight his insomnia and it never will again. Not even when the better way is no longer available to him. At least his tongue feels less dry now.

He sobers a little when there is a sudden knock against his door.

It takes Wonwoo a few seconds to glance at his clock, just a minute or two having passed since it struck three. He wonders if he should grab his utility knife, just in case but is already walking toward the noise’s source before he can be bothered to entertain the idea.

In his all but intoxicated weariness, he forgets to exploit his peephole before his fingers have already undone the lock and he pulls the door open.

He sobers even a little more when his squinting eyes find you staring up at him with your wide ones, easily recognized surprise arching your brows. Wonwoo probably looks something similar, he would guess.

Your name falls from his stiff lips in the form of a question.

“Oh,” you sound and Wonwoo duly notices how somehow blue and shaky your lips are. And how a thick jacket is hanging over your shoulders. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

Wonwoo remembers how gentle the knock had been and how it under no circumstances could have woken anyone up. It was probably purposeful.

“You didn’t,” he reassures and watches you fidget under his stare.

This is awkward, he realizes. The two of you do not speak often, the typical encounter being a hushed greeting as you pass each other in the stairwell, or merely a polite smile. Of course, there was that one time when Wonwoo was justly wasted and his friends -- well, Junhui -- locked him out of his own apartment as a prank. Miraculously, you were coming home as this happened and let him into your place for a while. He remembers drinking a lot of water, giggling too much and watching you laugh at him. He also remembers thinking your laugh was kind of cute. And how embarrassed he was when he woke up hungover the next day.

Yes, this is awkward, especially at three in the morning but Wonwoo finds himself unaffected. You are nervous, though. You always are around him, always have been. He wonders if you know he has noticed.

A halfway emptied cup of water is still balanced between Wonwoo’s fingers, he suddenly realizes.

“So,” you start with an obvious distress altering your usually soft voice, seemingly tense hands gripping the sleeves of your jacket. “Hate to disturb you but-” You hesitate, finding difficulty in meeting Wonwoo’s stare. He patiently lets you collect your thoughts, hoping that the heavy bags adorning his eyes are not too discouraging. “The heating in my apartment shut off some time earlier today and well... It’s really cold.”

You do not need to elaborate for Wonwoo to understand. If his apartment is as cold as it is with the heating on, he can only imagine what type of a freezer your place must have turned into with these subzero temperatures outside.

“Oh, shit,” he comments.

“Uh, yeah, so...” You purse your lips for a moment and Wonwoo’s feet feel cold beneath him. “I- I tried to sleep but, I really can’t. I’m supposed to help my friend move tomorrow and need to get up kind of early and I just-...”

Wonwoo, despite how unthinkably tired he is, quickly connects the dots and understands what question you are working your way up to asking. He still wants to let you ask it though, in the slim chance that he is wrong. Which he is often not.

A shaky hand pokes out from your thick sleeve and you scratch your scalp in the silence. Wonwoo finds himself hoping you speak soon again, the lack of any noise too loud and too common in his ears. A sip of water slides smoothly down his throat.

“I just- I’m really sorry but, just know that I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t-...” You stop and inhale, feet fidgeting atop the floor. Wonwoo thinks he might be smiling a little, he is not sure. “Is it- Can I sleep here tonight? Just on the couch or- or floor or whatever you are most okay with. I’ll leave early in the morning, I just really need someplace.. warmer to rest for a few hours.”

It is an odd request. And somehow, Wonwoo does not like that you are asking it. You do not know him well enough to justifiably feel comfortable sleeping in his apartment. As far as you know, Wonwoo could be some creep that collects his own nail clippings.

He does not really like the obvious crush you have on him either. You started liking him too easily, he thinks. How could you think it appropriate to develop such a fast crush on him when the most you know about him is his name and that he has friends that like pulling pranks on him?

A part of Wonwoo wants to deny you for these reasons. He probably would, under more conscious circumstances. But he quickly remembers your desperate situation and how unthinkably cold your apartment must be and that it is something past three in the morning. You are lucky that he is not some creep that collects his own nail clippings. And that the blush that is slowly coloring your cheeks is kind of endearing.

He empties his cup down his throat, finally and opens his door further.

“Sure,” he accepts and takes a step sideways. “Come in.”

You look sheepish and mildly shocked as you carefully enter his home and it only then strikes Wonwoo that he is actually letting all but a stranger into his own apartment for the night. He really needs to sleep. Ha.

Worry is not a prominent emotion that he feels then, however, as you could not look any more harmless with your wide eyes scanning his dimly lit living room shyly. Maybe he did a good thing for someone, for once.

“You can sleep on the couch right there,” he gestures to said piece of furniture and your head bobs in a nod. “And use as many blankets as you need.” 

Windows shake and cut through an approaching silence beneath the storm on the other side.

Wonwoo is oddly comfortable in this setting. He is too tired. Lifting his cup to his lips again, he is promptly reminded that it is empty. It would not work anyway, he scoffs.

You turn to him, fingers clutching the clothing covering your chest. “Thank you so much. Really. I seriously owe you now. It was goddamn freezing in there. Just-... Thank you.”

The sides of Wonwoo’s lips curl just a bit before he can prevent it as he waves a dismissive hand your way. “Don’t worry about it. We can be quits now, after... that time I was really drunk.”

He thinks your lips purse to suppress a smile. Wonwoo’s ears feel warmer.

“No, no, seriously,” you say. “If you ever need a favor after this, knock on my door.”

Wonwoo nods, folding under your seemingly decided offer and you quietly stalk toward his couch. He leaves his empty cup in the kitchen and tells you to make yourself at home which earns him yet another thank you before he is sneaking back into his bedroom and closing the door after him.

And he is back to tracing the cracks decorating his ceiling with heavy-lidded eyes and darkening circles below them to match.

Fists tighten around the sheets he rests upon, the insides of his cheeks falling victim to restless teeth. He only wants to sleep, if just for an hour. An hour, he fantasizes, would be enough. Would save him from having to get high on caffeine to stay awake at work tomorrow. Or only half an hour, he is not greedy. Anything.

He thinks of a warm embrace and his heart launches upward and gets stuck in his throat. Slow fingers combing through his unkempt hair, heartbeat grounding and relaxing against his ear. Tender and reassuring hums that would lull him to sleep, decelerate his heart’s pumping and calm his breathing.

The muscle sheltered beneath his rib cage only raps at the thought, pounds in his ears worse than silence does, the memory of a certain voice anything but sedative in his ear.

He shoots upward quickly, chest all but heaving up and down under loud inhales and exhales as he sits and stares out his window, at the relentless snow descending from thick clouds blanketing the sky.

The better way to rebut his insomnia is gone, the memory of it tainted with bad lies and raised voices.

“Shit,” he sighs, face landing in the palms of his hands and he rubs and rubs and rubs-

Until his toilet flushes and he remembers that he has a guest, of sorts.

His eyes sneak a peek of his clock again and it tells him that it has been forty minutes or so since he crawled back beneath his duvet. And you are still awake.

Strong gusts of wind shake against Wonwoo’s window and he sits still, contemplating what to do. His muscles are sluggish, his eyes ache, his hairline is sticky. But he is not going to fall asleep anyway.

Wobbling a little, he opens his door again and proceeds with gentle steps into his living room. There you sit, on his couch with your phone in hand. Wood creaks beneath Wonwoo’s foot and his shoulders tense while his lips purse as your head whips around and your round eyes meet his soon apologetic ones.

A brief silence passes. That Wonwoo ends quickly.

“Can’t sleep?”

Your lips part, phone dismissed by your side. “Uh, no, I-... I have a hard time sleeping in new places sometimes,” you explain, hands squeezing at your arms as you hold yourself. “But I’m warmer now, at least, so...”

Wonwoo nods, watching your chin dip downward for a second before your voice interrupts the taut silence again. He is thankful.

“Sorry if I uh, woke you up when I-”

“No, no, you didn’t,” Wonwoo reassures, like how he did earlier in the night. He approaches you slowly and notices how your back straightens when he sits down beside you. “I’m a bit of an insomniac, actually.”

“Oh,” you react and Wonwoo is too fatigued to dislike the hint of pity in your eyes. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

A deep chuckle rumbles within Wonwoo’s chest. “It’s not your fault. Unless you’re a witch who put a curse on me, or something.”

You snicker at that and Wonwoo feels drunk again because it is a little cuter than it should be. His grin is too wide for this late hour. Early hour. Whatever.

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m just saying sorry on the universe’s behalf because, well, it won’t do it itself...”

Wonwoo’s head dips, a tight smile across his lips. There are many things he would like to hear the universe apologize for. But somehow, the notion feels like a sweet, deceptive lie.

He meets your open stare and shoots you a polite smile. And sighs. He really just wants to sleep. Just.

“Is-... Don’t you have like, some technique for falling asleep?” The question is innocent and reasonable enough, so Wonwoo tries to hide the way in which his eyebrows pinch when he averts his gaze. “Like, medicine or something?”

His fingers clench.

“Uh,” he starts, tongue loose after so many hours of sleeplessness. So many years. “I used to.”

You remain silent and Wonwoo hates it, has to keep talking.

“I was in a relationship. Whenever I slept with her, that’s when I could actually sleep for whole nights.” It has been so long, his squeezing heart recognizes. He tries not to think about it.

He notices how you shift awkwardly in his peripherals, suddenly reminded of your crush on him. Guilt, he feels a bit of that.

“Oh,” you say again and he is pleasantly surprised when the sound is not accompanied by another apology.

You are staring at your fingers when he looks over at you, your profile contorting with faint sheepishness. The large sweater you wear kind of swallows you, socks big and fuzzy over your feet that are criss-crossed in front of you. A sight that revives his smile more easily than he would like.

His smile that dies quite rapidly once more when he notices that you are still shivering.

The heavy duvet laid out across his sheets comes to mind, the warmth and comfort it provides. Wonwoo’s teeth begin chewing at his lip as he stares at you.

He is not sure for how long the silence has stretched before you turn to meet his eye with a mildly questioning expression. His thoughts were too loud that he did not realize the lack of any conversing.

“You’re still cold,” is all he can think to say.

Quickly, you grip one hand with the other, probably as to hide your shaking. Wonwoo frowns.

“I’m really fine,” you insist. “Compared to my place, this is so much better. I- I just need a moment to... warm up.”

Wonwoo really is much too tired, as ridiculous ideas swim in his head and do not sound as ridiculous as he knows them to be. Sleep, he needs to sleep.

He thinks he sees your jaw quivering a bit, teeth probably hacking. His lungs tighten.

“You could- ahh...” Wonwoo’s eyes fall closed, mind whirring with a restless delusion.

He is not in his right mind, he should not make this offer. It is weird. It is creepier than collecting your own nail clippings, he is sure. Sleep, he just needs some sleep.

The clock hanging on the wall ticks and tocks and Wonwoo’s toes curl.

You look puzzled when his eyes reopen.

“I have a big bed.” He internally curses the opening sentence, cheeks heating and distracting him. “Uh, and a warm duvet. It’s- It’s really the only warm place in here and- ugh, I sound like a freak, don’t I?”

A small smile grows across your lips and Wonwoo cannot decide whether it relieves him or bothers him.

“I guess it’s a bit weird but-... This whole situation is kind of... weird, too.”

Wonwoo nods, hairline still sticky as his fingers slide along it. Or sticky again. “Yeah, so, I just-...Two people can fit in there pretty well. I mean- You might get a cold if you... stay here and-... I don’t know.”

“I mean,” Your fingers pick at each other over your lap as you watch them.

Wonwoo remembers your crush again and knows that if he were in his right mind, he would not entertain your liking toward him so easily. Hell, he would not offer sharing his bed with anyone he barely knows, no matter who the anyone was. He really, really needs to sleep.

“I guess,” you continue and Wonwoo feels somehow relieved that you seem somewhat reluctant. “Okay.”

A stillness encases the two of you then and no one moves for a long moment. Until the rate at which Wonwoo’s heart beats begins picking up, just a bit.

The short trip to Wonwoo’s bed feels long and slow and he presses himself as close to the wall as he can muster when he crawls onto his mattress for the third time that night. He notices that you also lie as far from him as the bed allows and only hopes that you will not fall over the edge.

“Thank you,” you whisper, duvet quickly pulled up to your chin.

“No problem,” he replies and snow still falls to cover the roads and pavements.

Those words were your respective wishes for a good night. Or morning, rather.

But Wonwoo can tell with the time that passes and passes, that you are both still awake. He hears it in your controlled breathing, back turned to you as he stares into his wall. A wall whose marks he is familiar with in the same fashion he is with the ones on his ceiling. His ears ring again, always. It is too quiet still.

Having another body near him proves to not be enough, his tired eyes tell him. A sigh is suppressed within his lungs, as to not alarm you. His fist tightens beside his face.

Surprise alerts him when you are the one to break the silence.

“You still awake?” you ask quietly, though it is loud while vibrating against the shells of Wonwoo’s ears. He likes it, it unwinds his fist.

A second or a couple pass before he answers.

“Yeah.”

He feels the mattress move beneath him as you presumably shift, stiffening in his position. Anticipation widens his eyes as he awaits your next move.

“Do you-” You cut yourself off and Wonwoo can hear his heartbeat. He wonders briefly if you can, too. “I can hold you i-if you, want.”

That catches the man off guard and he needs a moment to register your proposal. You can hold him. If he wants.

The thought causes something to bloom and spread inside his chest, something he cannot quite pinpoint, something he has not felt in too long. It is almost uncomfortable.

Wonwoo turns clumsily atop his sheets, springs whimpering within the mattress, until he is met with your wide-eyed stare. He imagines your cheeks to be stained a rosy kind of color but it is too dark to confirm.

You wait patiently for his reply, seemingly readying yourself for rejection and the following embarrassment by troubling your lip.

He wants to save you from feeling that. He wants to sleep.

“You sure?” he questions.

He notices how you inhale deeply, eyelids blinking at him for a while.

“Yes, of course,” you assure, exhaling and Wonwoo feels your breath tickling his nose. You like him too easily. He accepts too easily.

“Okay.”

Neither of you move at first, waiting for the other to do so, before your lips curl and the both of you cannot help but let hushed laughter slip and mingle in the air still separating you.

You scoot forward slightly and Wonwoo quickly follows suit, until his head is suddenly tucked beneath your chin and his cheek is pressed against your chest. It is an effortless fit. Or Wonwoo is just too tired.

This is weird, he knows. But it does not feel weird. He really needs to fucking sleep.

It takes a moment, his eyes wide and his heart jumping against his ribs. He hears that yours sounds similar, Wonwoo’s ear warm while pressed to your shirt. And dread almost starts to boil in the pit of his stomach as he slowly begins feeling like this will not work. That this was a horribly awkward mistake and that he will never be able to meet your eye again.

But your palm resting on his back distracts him from the potential panic, other hand eventually rising to hold the side of his head, near his temple. Your heartbeat slows beneath your sweater, chest rising and falling and demanding Wonwoo’s attention.

It is warm, it is no longer too silent and Wonwoo places a careful arm across your waist. His weight sinks into the mattress below, limbs heavy alike his eyelids that he soon realizes have fallen shut. You smell kind of sweet beneath Wonwoo’s deep breaths, his lips parting when his jaw slackens.

He wonders who will be indebted to who when the sun soon rises. And that becomes his last thought of the night.

[taeminstetrislips]

School Trip Series - Italy Pt. 2

Rome

With the two scheduled activities done for the day, your group is sent to the hotel before being released to do what you wanted without plans. You’d be staying at the Hotel Savoy which upon arrival took your breath away with its view. All of you line up to collect hotel keys and organize who will be rooming with whom. Unsure of what to do, you hang back and wait for one of the groups of girls to offer an open spot to you. You can overhear conversations stating that the rooms that had been reserved can sleep 3 people in separate twin beds. Then, you are pleasantly surprised when the guys all come over to you, arguing who was going to ask you to join their room to see if you’d be comfortable. Eventually, Xiaojun approaches and asks the question. Delighted, you agree to be the third to the room Renjun and Sungchan were sharing (Xiaojun and Johnny had already claimed they wanted the room with Jaehyun).

After taking the luggage up to your rooms next to each other, the guys from the other room bombarded yours claiming it would be the “party room.” Before you could protest, they already started spreading themselves out on the joined beds of Renjun and Sungchan. You took note of how they were respecting your personal space and not laying on your bed.

“So what’s the plan? What are we going to do?”Renjun asks the group. His response is just a lot of shrugging and mumbled “I dunno”s. You suggest taking a walk and just seeing what’s nearby. Everyone simply agrees because they have no better ideas. On the walk, you discover that you’ve stumbled upon the Fontana di Trevi. Once getting a closer look, you immediately ask if anyone has change. Johnny pulls out his wallet and offers a few coins to the group. You toss a coin into the fountain, keeping your wish all to yourself and the rest do the same. It takes you a second, but you realize you recognize the place.

“Oh my gosh, don’t make fun of me but this was the place they went to in the Lizzie McGuire movie.”

“The what?” Sungchan asks you. You look at all of them with a deadpan expression.

“I'm not mad, just disappointed," you say and turn around to walk away.

Renjun pipes up saying, "Hey there's this cool hidden gem I saw when I was doing research around here. I think we just have to turn this way. Hold on, let me pull it up."

Jaehyun asks, "Where did you conduct this research?"

"Tik Tok." Renjun responds matter-of-factly before pointing us toward the street we were to walk down. Following him around a few turns left and right leads to this place that seems very unassuming, the sign saying ‘Vicus Caprarius’. But, after each of you purchases an entry ticket, you understand what he meant by hidden gem. Just beyond the staircase lies the water tank of an ancient Roman aqueduct. Jaehyun reads the information on the plaque.

“It says this is ‘The Aqua Virgo’ and it still provides water to the Trevi fountain.” The way they've lit the surroundings makes the water look hauntingly romantic as it reflects the blue lights. The calming sounds of water flowing summon an atmosphere that you can't explain. It feels like this moment is private, intimate, like it just belongs to the six of you. Probably the quietest you’ve all been on this trip, you observe in awe. In a few more steps, you are led through the views of the remains of a Roman house, a headless statue, a section of an old mosaic floor, and many more mysteriously beautiful exhibits. On the way back out into the sun, you make sure to hang close to the back of the group where Renjun was walking.

“Hey, thanks for showing us that. It was really cool,” you tell him.

He looks kind of shy and embarrassed when he says, “Oh yeah of course.”

You all continue to walk around and take in the views before heading back toward the hotel. You were told that there was a rooftop lounge and Xiaojun desperately wanted to be there to watch the sunset. After grabbing drinks at the rooftop bar, Jaehyun helps you claim a couple of couches you can all hang at. Sungchan takes the seat next to you and has to scoot even closer when Xiaojun sits next to him, causing his thigh to brush up against his. You feel like a kid again as your heartbeat gets faster. It's like all you can think about at that moment is the spot where his leg meets yours.

Finally, you manage to get a grip on yourself and raise your head up, only to lock eyes with Jaehyun before he quickly turns away and pretends he wasn’t looking at you. However, you allow your eyes to linger on his face as you watch his dimple deepen while a small smile grows on his face subconsciously. It’s at this moment that you realize all of these boys are not only becoming some of your closest friends, but you might start falling for one (or all) of them.

Following an elegant dinner at the hotel restaurant, the group retires to your respective rooms. You all were encouraged to get some sleep early tonight for the busy schedule tomorrow. But of course, the guys had other plans. After everyone crashes the “party room” aka yours, Johnny starts pulling up Disney plus on the TV.

“What are we watching?” you ask.

“We found the Lizzie McGuire Movie.” Johnny says, extremely serious as he starts typing in the title.

“No! You’re not serious. Oh my god.” You’re starting to feel a little embarrassed about your taste in made-for-tv disney movies.

“Oh I’m serious. We’re watching this. Wouldn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

Now you have to laugh. “Okay fine, but if you don’t like it, don’t blame me. I’m sure I only like it as much as I do because of nostalgia.”

This doesn’t seem to be a problem because as soon as the music starts, you’re singing and dancing along. And so do the guys if they recognize the song playing. Damn, they have really good voices. There’s even a point when Renjun decides he’s going to be the Paolo to your Lizzie and duet the final song with you. His imitation of the character’s voice crack is so good that it leaves the rest of the room laughing. You can just feel the inside joke growing already.

Before you get in trouble with the other people staying in the hotel for noise, you make the decision to kick out the other boys and get to sleep.

After stopping at a cafe and getting caffeinated and bakery-filled stomachs, you are all on the way to the pantheon to once be quizzed on architectural vocabulary by your professor. You have all decided to make it a friendly competition to see who can get the most questions right.

You would’ve won against Sungchan but you forgot the word for a coffered ceiling. But, you can’t be too mad because you guys all pleasantly surprised the professor with how much you remembered and he granted you an extra hour of free time before you had to get on the bus. This made Renjun really excited because he had another hidden gem he found on tiktok that he wanted to show.

He nearly started running in the direction of where he wanted to go. You followed closely after him, remembering how cool the first thing was that he found. Eventually, you are led to the church of San Luigi dei Francesi. Looking behind you, you see that the other guys haven’t quite caught up to you yet, but Renjun doesn’t seem to care as he grabs your wrist to drag you along behind him inside. Immediately, you are in awe. This church is so intricate and elaborate that if you didn’t know better, you’d think this was a hallway in the Palace of Versailles. Renjun only takes a few moments to admire the frescoes on the walls and ceilings before directing you to a corner where a lot of people were gathered.

After sifting through the crowd to the front, you see three dramatic paintings displayed on the walls in front of you. One of them seems familiar, so you ask Renjun, “Was that one on the left on one of our tests?”

“Yeah, these are all Caravaggio paintings,” he responds. You can’t help but look at him in admiration for his knowledge and passion for art. He must feel your stare and he looks back at you. A smile covers his expression, lighting up his entire being. It wasn’t until now in this perfect setting that you notice how perfectly his hair sits on his forehead in delicate waves, his eyes sparkle as much as the gold embellishments surrounding him, and his smile is that of a fairytale’s prince.

“There they are!” you recognize Xiaojun’s voice and see that the group managed to finally catch up to you. When you turn back, you see Renjun still softly smiling at you and get shy, choosing to break away and join back up with the group.

Your visit in Rome is then completed and you all begin on your way to Florence.

Masterlist

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid 188

188

   Keith woke feeling the best he had in days. Coffee in the air and Lance had moved him to rest his head on his upper leg. He didn’t like face masks. Having his eyebrows waxed brought tears to his eyes. His nails had some kind of clear nail polish on them... but Lance had sent him into a whole other kind of bliss by playing with his hair. He’d found himself rambling, and making weird grunting kind of noises as Lance untangled his hair then started brushing it. After that he was very much a sook. Dazed and dopey, he’d been bopped on the head when he’d missed Lance asking him to help pack his go bag, his boyfriend comparing him to his coffee deprived morning zombie state, giving up asking anything from him other than his shirt to scent the things in his go bag.

  Wanting Lance to feel as blissed as he did, he tried his very hardest as he massaged Lance’s back, legs and feet. He’d failed to really notice how Lance’s feet seemed swollen. His ego felt he’d let Lance down by not noticing how painful it must be for his lover. Lance only mentioned the pain in his back and hips, then his breasts as his milk came in. Oiling Lance up was not without its issues. Lance insisted on wearing a towel around his groin to cover his bits during the massage. Keith didn’t see the point. Lance had a cute arse, which he wasn’t supposed to point out. Watching his boyfriend, he wanted to touch him, yet with his belly on display he felt awful about the nursery and shooting Lance down as he had. Going for an apology blow job, Lance pushing him back with a foot to his shoulder, declaring no touching until he’d had the rest of his pampering.

  His boyfriend was a shit.

  Using the same face mask as Lance, it made Keith’s skin tingle. Lance explaining face masks should be a sometimes treat and all these weird things about toners being bad for skin and coconut oil being even worse. After face masks came a bubble bath, where Keith was forced between Lance’s legs and Lance played with his hair again. The whole thing felt like they were following some kind of unfun torture manual. Self care seemed too much like hard work. After that came a short break, then the wax went on... then the nails were trimmed and painted, then the wax came off and it was not fun. Keith wasn’t sure the what exactly about it brought tears to his eyes, yet he would have preferred to keep his budding monobrow and hairy toe tops. How Lance could possibly seem fine with waxing other places was weird. For a day of pampering, Keith definitely felt he’d feel better about facing a half starved vampire than he would about facing all of this again. Huffy, Lance laughed at his grumbling, rewarding him with head pats, and a braid that Matt pouted over when he came home.

  Whatever his personal thoughts on the matter where, his ego had responded. He felt almost constantly cocky over looking good for their mate. He didn’t think he looked that different. Maybe a few less eyebrow hairs... Noticing he was awake, Lance moved his hand to stroke his hair

“I made you coffee”

Mmm... He was loved. Wriggling closer to Lance, he nosed at his boyfriend’s leg. Lance should have woken him up when he’d gotten up

“You hate the smell”

“Eh, I was throwing up anyway”

He could smell his coffee. It was so close. If he could reach around Lance, he’d have his coffee... but that meant giving up pats

“I thought that’d settled”

“It’s a bit better but yeah, no, this morning I went to have some toast and blargh. I decided to get a few things organised. We’re going to Platt today”

  The idea of pats disappeared with the need for coffee. When Lance got in a mood, he knew better than to try and stop him. Dragging himself up to sit, Lance passed him his coffee, phone in his left hand as his thumb hovered over the screen. With the coffee cool enough to drink, he swallowed it down, grateful for the caffeine and that his boyfriend would withstand the scent for him. Passing the mug back, Lance chose to throw his phone down with a sigh where it landed next to the mug

“Should I ask?”

“I’ve been up since 5”

“What’s the time now?”

“Nearly 8”

  That’s three hours of rest Lance could have been having. Keith groaned at the idea, pulling the blanket up as he curled into Lance

“You should have been resting”

“I had things to do”

No. In Keith’s world it was far too early for those things. Lance should have switched his brain off and accepted cuddles

“Sleep is better”

“Says the lazy werewolf. I’ve booked the accomodation, and talked to Coran. He said he’d see me today and if it’s all good, we can go”

  Keith blinked, his eyes feeling gritty with sleep. He needed more time for the caffeine to kick in

“Babe?”

Humming, Keith couldn’t quite word what he wanted to word, since he didn’t know what he wanted to word. Too many words were coming at him

“I know. I’m terrible. I couldn’t get back to sleep, my head wouldn’t shut up”

“Ugh”

Yep. That summed up his current intelligence

“Pretty much”

  On the table Lance’s phone vibrated. Lance ignoring the device though Keith felt him tense

“Babe?”

“It’s alright. You know how Matt fixed my laptop, I had him figure out how to send those photos to Veronica and now she’s trying to talk to me”

Ah. That explained why Lance couldn’t get back to sleep

“You don’t have to talk to her”

“I know. I want to get a lot done in Platt today, so you’re going to have to get up”

   Lance got another coffee into him, while Keith had forced his boyfriend to drink some blood before they left for Platt. Lance not letting him drive as he’d drank from him, his boyfriend uncomfortable behind the steering wheel. Closing his eyes for the drive, car sickness was apparently not cured by turning into a werewolf. Lance asked him once or twice if he needed to pull over, Keith humming it off. His ego seemed to be like “What the heck is this?”. With Lance wanting to get things done, Keith hoped those things didn’t involve seeing people, not after how his last shopping trip had gone.

  It turned out Lance had that covered. He’d been as busy as he’d said he’d been. First stop was VOLTRON... which was funnily enough Keith’s only stop. He didn’t know why Lance had brought him, only that he was mad as heck when Lance explained, after his scan, that he and Curtis were going shopping, leaving Keith with Shiro and Krolia for the time being. He knew he was useless, yet he couldn’t help feeling lied to. Lance had made it seem as if he wanted to do whatever it was together. That he wanted him around. And that getting whatever it was done, would finally result in them getting to leave Garrison . Instead, his boyfriend had gone off with his friend, leaving him to the mercy of Shiro and his mother, when all he wanted to do was sleep of his nausea.

   *

Lance had snapped. He’d officially snapped. He’d called Coran up, crying for reasons he wasn’t exactly sure of outside of him feeling very done with being pregnant. Keith had really settled in the last two days. He’d hated being pampered, and though Lance had laughed at his grumbling, he couldn’t deny being slightly hurt that Keith had enjoyed their time together. He’d tried his best to make it enjoyable for Keith, only for Keith to hate all of it.

  The worst bit was that his ego felt insulted. He wanted to get things ready for giving birth. The closer to surgery, the less he’d be able to do. He’d planned to have this done already, and now it hurt to look at the nursery each time he came up the stairs. For an old house, he’d realised how much he’d changed the floor plan, leaving certain spaces and gaps between walls for better aesthetics. If he were to knock down two of the upstairs walls, or at least move them, there’d be enough space for another small bedroom. When he’d gotten things the way he liked, and wanted, he’d become set that that was how they should stay. Now he had the urge to make a second bedroom from that lost space and maybe replan his bathroom.

  Coran copped the full version of his rambling. The fae assured him that many, many people felt the need to ensure things were perfect before giving birth. Lance only crying harder as none of his friends got it and he wanted his Mami. Then Veronica had replied to the photos, asking how his life was, and he’d felt lost all over again. Right now he felt like he needed someone to hold his hand, yet Keith couldn’t do crowds and he couldn’t fight the feelings of need to get things done any longer.

    Parking in front of the hardware store, Curtis let out a sigh. They’d barely talked since Coran had volunteered Curtis to go with him on his errands. Lance too preoccupied in his wallowing as he drove. Cutting the ignition and looking to Curtis, Lance let out a sigh of his own

“I know”

“He seemed pretty upset”

“Yep”

Then again, Lance had been too. He’d wished Keith was there to rub his stomach as he threw up, yet his stupid ego was all bent out of shape over their werewolf not seeming to care about how much stress he was under not having the nursery done

“Should I ask?”

  Without the curse Curtis had free reign to ask as he pleased in his own words. Lance almost missed him blurting things out

“It’s ego stuff. Like I’m all panicked over the nursery and right now I need to settle my ego before I can calm down”

“Ah”

“Pretty much. I know he’s going to be pissed, but I can’t keep waiting for things to fall into line. It scares me. The idea of the nursery not being ready in time”

“I’m sorry...”

Lance shook his head. He shouldn’t have worded it that way. He didn’t blame Curtis. He blamed life

“You have nothing to apologise for. That was the demon acting out. I could have fixed it ages ago, but everything’s been so busy. I did a click and collect order, so all we have to do is the collect bit”

“Are you going to come in?”

  What else was he going to do? He knew he upset Keith by leaving him with Shiro and Krolia, especially on the back of dragging his boyfriend out of bed, but today was a day for errands and Keith couldn’t handle crowds. No. He didn’t particularly want to go in, yet he didn’t have much choice if he wanted to get things done

“I know we’re close in looks, but I can handle this much”

Curtis sighed, Lance knowing he deserved it

“Should I ask why you haven’t talked to Keith about this?”

“Dude, if you want to ask me stuff, you don’t need to ask my permission first. As for Keith, it’s a bit... yeah. He’s still going through a lot, but he just doesn’t seem to get how much I need to get this done”

“I’m being a pain, aren’t I?”

  Today seemed to be his day for upsetting people. He couldn’t cope with that on top of everything on his list. Better to nip it in the bud before it went further

“No. You’re not. I’m grateful you agreed to helping me out, even if I hijacked your plan. I’m just being impatient”

“I didn’t have any plans. Shiro keeps making me rest. If it’s not therapy with Coran, then it’s home at the apartment. He got upset when I dared to bring paperwork home so I’d have something to do”

  Curtis had mentioned before that he wasn’t really coping. Lance could see why Shiro wouldn’t want him pushing himself, still, he knew how annoying it was to be left with your thoughts

“He had a huge scare. The whole floor was filled with energy from the demon. He’s probably trying to overcompensate seeing how long it took for you to recover from the summoning”

“It’s nothing compared to what Keith went through”

  Curtis sounded hurt at the memory. Lance was going to have to drive it into his brain that he wasn’t to blame even if it killed him

“What Keith went through isn’t your fault. With how many times he’s hit his head, no one could have predicted that happening. He’s getting there. He’s been super clingy lately, you should have seen him the other day, give him head pats and everything is forgiven. I suppose Shiro would have told you he had a freak out, but even then, he was mainly scared for Hunk than for himself. I did kind of tell him we had errands, and didn’t exactly tell him I was leaving him at VOLTRON... besides, he needs to socialise. He can’t stay at home forever. VOLTRON was the safest and best option, and it gives me a bit of a breather”

Curtis arched an eyebrow, tone teasing as he replied

“So you left him at werewolf day care. Not even a parent yet and you’re sending your kids away”

  Rolling his eyes at Curtis, Lance then punch him lightly on the arm

“It’s not “day care”. It’s “werewolf care”. Besides, Keith will tell you himself that he’s not a kid”

“Yes. I heard about that. Shiro was lamenting over how much Keith has grown. Don’t tell Keith, but I think Shiro misses being the cooler older brother”

Shiro was cool in his own head. Lance wasn’t about to start bagging Shiro over things, he would have preferred not to be talking about Shiro yet he’d been the one to go there

“Shiro’s still his brother, but I don’t know about the cool bit. I have a sneaking suspicion he’s just as lame as I am. And if you think about it, Keith’s going to slow down aging now he’s turned. He’s always going to be the older brother, even when he’s all old and wrinkly”

“He still misses Keith”

  Well there was nothing Lance could do about that. Keith was free to go to Shiro if he wanted to. Heck, he’d even free up space for Curtis and Shiro if they needed brother time that badly

“You guys still welcome any time. I know we’re leaving before you are, but that’s because we need some us time”

“I know. It’s hard being in the middle”

“That’s like the last thing I wanted. It really is. I know Shiro is important to Keith, and I don’t want Shiro to feel like he can’t reach out to Keith. Keith just... he really thinks he’s not improving fast enough. I know everyone leapt to my side and I hate that. I’m kind of hoping the four of us can reconnect while we’re away, without the outside interference of the others”

“I’m honestly looking forward to that too. It’s been so long since I was human that even the simple things seem way more interesting than they were”

“I wish I could say I got that. All I’ve got is death. Anyway, I’ve booked your room next to ours. The towns so small they only have one hotel, so there wasn’t a whole lot of options”

Curtis nodded, finally undoing his seatbelt

“Want to make a bet about which one is going to be clingier when we get back?”

Lance wasn’t taking money that easily from a friend

“Oh, no. I already know that’s going to be Keith. You should see him. I feel like he tolerated me playing with his hair before, but now he can’t get enough of it. I caught him drooling the other day when I was playing with his hair”

“I kind of want to see that”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get the chance. Ugh. Now to go people”

“If you want me to go...”

Lance shook his head firmly

“No. It’s okay, but don’t think I’m not treating you to lunch for coming out with me”

“I’m down for that”

    What Keith didn’t know, other than the fact he’d seemed to zone out while Lance was telling him about the errands, was that the vampire had ordered new clothes while he was shopping. As well as a little something he was pretty confident that Keith would like, though that surprise had nothing to do with the reason he’d left Keith behind. He’d prepared himself for most of their time alone together to be in the hotel room, and with the amount of stress he was putting himself through, he didn’t feel as sexy as Keith seemed to find him. He wanted to look good for Keith. He wanted to feel good about his body, though it was hard when he felt like a fat lump every time he’d sit down after a shower and stare down at all this extra “him” that hadn’t been there before. So aside from the hardware store, they also made two other stops, then a third unplanned stop when his ego wouldn’t shut up. At their third stop he’d tried to call Keith, only for the call to go unanswered... as did the next two calls.

  Everything in the nursery was supposed to be chosen by the pair of them, but Lance couldn’t let go of wanting a chair for the nursery, as Curtis had been subjected too in the form of deep signs whenever they passed a furniture store. He couldn’t let go of the desire to have it organised. The chair was almost as important to him as the cots they’d chosen. He wanted a chair for feeding the twins, and a chair where he’d be able to sit and read bedtime stories to the pair of them. The kind of chair where they’d be able to sit on his lap, for snuggles and turning the pages of the pictures books with him. Keith might not get how much that meant to him, but as the youngest of the family, stray furniture had seemed to end up in his room. He could remember in Cuba the chair his Mami would use for the same reason, and god knew how much he wished he knew what had happened to it. So far none of the chairs they’d passed were that chair, though that might be him putting too much thought into picking one. He’d kind of been a bit vocal about the ones he didn’t like, with his tastes clashing against Curtis’s suggestions. This whole mess was why he needed Keith to see. To choose with him. That his boyfriend wouldn’t answer his calls left him with silent tears over his own stupidity.

  Seeing how dejected he was that Keith hadn’t answered, Curtis took Lance’s hand in his, drawing more than a few stares over the sudden seemingly intimacy between the pair. He’d heard the sales staff sighing the moment they laid eyes on him. The weather was warm and sunny, he must have looked like some kind of addict with the way he’d bundled up. Lance had dressed with getting things done in mind. His beanie covered his short hair. The scarf around his neck his his Adam’s apple, he’d chosen a long sleeve black shirt that made his tiny tits annoyingly obvious under a heavy winter jacket that had long passed the point of being able to button, and anything he had to say he kept clipped. If he couldn’t hide being pregnant he could only go with the flow. Even if going with the flow led to very curious looks. Curtis had been by his side, but with their looks people wrongly assumed them family rather than potential lovers, now they seemed to be going off script.

  “Babe, what do you think of this one?”

Asking loudly, Lance didn’t know what to make of this sudden change in his friend. Especially in the face of the absolutely hideous chair in front of them

“You can’t be serious”

“Why not?”

It was pink with gold trim, the fabric fake leather and horrendous. The shape was all wrong for cuddling in. Plus, it was a massage chair and he didn’t want something they’d have to plug in. It was absolutely not what he wanted

“It’s awful”

Placing his hand over Lance’s arm, Curtis smiled creepily at him

“Why don’t we test it out?”

“What? Okay. What are you doing?”

Curtis leaned in to whisper

“There’s two sales people of there who haven’t stopped staring at us. Keith’s not here, so why not have a little fun”

  What the heck was he supposed to do with that? They were staring and now seemed almost scandalised to hear Curtis call him “babe” loudly. Neither of them seemed keen on approaching, and the signs clearly said not to sit on the chairs. Even if they were snooty, he didn’t really want to pick a fight

“I don’t know...”

“Here, come sit down”

Sitting down as he was told, Lance was sceptical over things. Curtis moving to place his hands on the top of the chair, the thing started moving beneath him, despite not being plugged in

“What the hell?!”

Curtis laughed, Lance tilting his head back to look up at him

“Are you doing this?!”

Curtis gave a wink and a shrug

“It seems the electrical thing kind of stuck. I reckon there’s at least half an hour’s worth of power in here now”

  Him sitting seemed to work as a magical beacon to summon one of the workers over. Lance wasn’t particularly in a shit stirring mood, yet the scowl on their face annoyed him. They probably had to deal with the same thing over and over

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you not to sit in the chairs. We have plastic slips if you’d like to try the feel of them”

His ego flared at “ma’am”. He wasn’t a “ma’am”. He didn’t look old enough for a starters and the plumbing situation was all wrong. The way she spoke...

“Oh, we’re so sorry. You see, my darling honey here is heavily pregnant with twins. I suggested it”

The worker turned their scowl to Curtis. Curtis had managed to sound apologetic enough, but there was just something in the way the woman set her lips that pissed him off

“I’m afraid I can’t bend the rules, sir. Not even for... pregnant customers. Street clothes carry many contaminants that may ruin the fabric, and there’s your condition to think of”

Lance found that instantly rude. Pregnancy wasn’t a disease to be caught. Sugar sweet he batted his eyelashes at Curtis

“Honey, we best do as the woman says”

“Are you sure? You had your heart set on getting a chair today”

“This one gives such a horrible massage. Will you please help me up”

Lance added a pout for good measure, Curtis “hurrying” around to take his hand and help him stand

“We obviously can’t buy a chair that hurts your back. You need to be careful with your body, you know what the doctor said”

  Watching the pair of them, Lance schooled his face as he stared at the sales woman who was now staring at him as if he were dumb

“This particular model isn’t currently plugged in. We do have similar models if you’d...”

Letting Curtis tug him slightly sideways, the movements of the massage chair stalled the sales woman’s words. The cord neatly wound around the lever to turn the chair into a recliner, very clearly not plugged in, despite the fact the chair was currently moving. Turning his head, Lance widened his eyes in fake alarm

“It’s not plugged in!”

The sales woman had no words. Lance didn’t particularly like picking on retail staff, yet he had to bite his lip from laughing at the expression on her face. Utter disbelief

“I don’t think I can shop at a store where the staff don’t know their products. This obviously dangerous. I’m so sorry. If anything were to happen to you, I’d never be able to explain to your boyfriend”

“Oh hush, you. He never has to know.”

“I know, but we can’t allow him to get too suspicious. I shudder to think if he knew I was here with you now”

“He certain is the jealous type. Perhaps we can find a chair that’s easier to clean”

  The woman’s face seemed to go through a range of expression before the colour drained. The way she twitched, she seemed ready to run to her colleagues and spill the scandal she’d been exposed to. That was until her eyes focused on the moving chair again

“Excuse me, ma’am. We’re looking for a chair suitable for a nursery. Do you happen to have something like that there”

God. The way Curtis said “ma’am” seemed to sum up all Lance’s feelings over being called “ma’am”

“Let’s go. I don’t know if I can trust haunted chairs in my house”

Plus the prices were killer. The only reason they’d come to the store was because it was across from where there’d gotten lunch. He liked his usual furniture store better

“It must be possessed by the ghost of customer service past. I guess we won’t be needing your help today. Come on, honey, we should get you home soon”

  Leading Lance away, Curtis kept his hand in his, giving the staff a little wave as the woman called out for some person named “Greg”. He felt a little shitty, until he was outside and found himself laughing far so hard he was nearly peeing himself in public. He’d never thought Curtis had that in him. He’d been so down that Keith hadn’t answered, and then Curtis went and did this

“Oh my god. You’re horrible”

“I saw them looking as we walked in”

“God. How long do you think they’re going to be puzzling over this?”

“No clue. Maybe next time they won’t be so judgmental?”

“Or maybe they’re going to be even scareder of pregnant people?”

Scareder wasn’t a word, yet he couldn’t English out the right word

“I wonder if I do a drive by later tonight, if that chair’s going to be out the back by the dumpsters?”

“It deserves to be. It’s horrendous”

  Curtis nodded, tugging on his arm to lead him further from the door. Inside the staff were kind of freaking out over the chair, seemingly trying to explain things by blaming it on some kind of short

“Come on, we should go before they pull out the priests and pitchforks”

“I’m terrified. Maybe we should go to church?”

“I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been in a church since having the demon summoned out. Can you imagine if we both burst into flame? We’d be posted back to our boyfriends in match boxes”

  There was no reason to find that hilarious. Lance wheezing now, legs pressed together. Being with Curtis was dangerous to health of his bladder.

  On the back of the fit of laughter, Lance surrendered his keys. Curtis forced to find the first fast food restaurant so he could go clean up in the bathroom. This peeing this was rough. He felt as if something as simple as swallowing saliva seemed to mean he had to pee it back out moments later. Still, he’d needed that laugh so damn badly. They’d never be able to show their faces in that store as long as they both lived, but it was kind of worth it. His ego stopped him feeling guilty for his and Curtis’s juvenile behaviour. They hadn’t actually physically harmed anyone, only given them a slight scare, a new work rumour to gossip over, and hopefully made them think twice over being so judgmental... even if it meant no chair. That thought sobering his lingering laughter completely. He... really... couldn’t chose a chair without Keith, no matter how kind Curtis was being. They’d have to go pick him up, and hope like heck they’d find something soon, or Keith would be forced to take home a very cranky vampire on top of having been forced to spend the day in “werewolf care”.

[yminie]

nine-one-one | dos | pjm (m)

pairing: Jimin x Reader genre/warnings: angst, smut (to come), fluff, oldflame!pairing, detective!jimin, firstresponder!reader, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of suicide, mentions of mental health problems, mentions of weapons, explicit language, implied stalking, brief scenes of physical assault. words: 15.3k summary: all Jimin wants is to whisk you away in an attempt to keep you safe, but how can he truly keep you safe if he doesn’t know who to protect you from?

a/n: part two is finally here!! find the first part here which I definitely reccomend reading before this part so you know whats up! :) I hope you enjoy and please send me lots of feedback and let me know how you feel :P

Before the ringing white noise in your ears manages to clear, things are already in motion so fast your vision begins to blur. Somewhere in the back of your mind you realise Jimin is trying to speak to you, his phone pressed tight to his ear as he speaks rapidly into the end while his hand on your shoulder attempts to rouse you from your frozen state of shock.

Your eyes are still stuck on the screen, unseeing as you stare to the point of your eyes burning, but the extra tears it produces are lost entirely in the wetness still pouring from the corners. Lungs burning, you gasp for air while your frame shakes with hiccuped sobs. The front of your shirt is littered with darkened drops of moisture, the tears dripping from your chin sinking into the fabric quickly.

“_____!” Jimin rips you from your reverie with strong hands grasping your shoulders, and you yelp in surprise as he spins you in place to face him, no longer looking at the computer on your desk. His eyes are wild, alarmed, and even a little scared. And the idea that something could make Jimin scared terrifies you even more. “Breathe, _____, please breathe–”

“J-Jimin–” Collapsing forward, he barely gets the chance to catch you as you sag in your chair, knees hitting the floor painfully hard before he quite gets the chance to get a solid grip. Pulling you up, Jimin holds you to his side as you bury your face in his shoulder, and you can hear him firing off orders as rapid footsteps make their way towards you.

“–and I want that fucking audio file analysed. Get on to vocal recognition. I want a list of all the tenants of her building and the three surrounding. I want their records, all their files, any information possible on that sick fuck.” His swearing cuts deep into your consciousness, and you shiver against him violently enough for his arm around your waist to tighten. “She's coming with me. Organise a squad to be at her address tomorrow at 10am sharp.”

You don’t even see where you’re going, eyelids pressed together in an attempt to slow the tears running down your cheeks, yet even with the state you’re in, you trust in Jimin’s guidance. He’s still speaking to you gently, soothingly, as he pulls you through to the elevator, and as the familiar scent of his cologne starts to fill your senses, your breaths start to come a little easier.

When he releases you it’s to brace you against the rail inside the elevator, but his hold on your waist doesn’t falter even as he shuffles back to choose which floor he wishes to take you. But you don’t bother looking, busy doing your best to calm yourself as your head rests back on the cold metal of the wall behind you. The chill is helping you to focus less on the sound of the killers voice echoing around within your head, and you seek the cold even more, turning to press your wet cheek to the surface.

“Hey, you’re okay.” Jimin notices the shiver you don’t and he quickly returns to your side, hand stroking along the curve of your back slowly as he leans over to look into your eyes. “I promise. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, yeah?”

“H-He knows, Jimin. He knows where I live–” Jimin shushes you as your emotions start to escalate, and you’re cut off by your own gasp for air, missing the ding and whirr as the elevator stops and the doors glide open.

“I know, _____. I know you’re scared. But I mean it, he’s not getting anywhere near you.” Jimin’s eyes are intent on you, and if you looked hard enough you’d probably be able to see your own reflection in them. He waits, regardless of the way the doors start to glide closed, until you’re completely ready to move. Only then does he guide you with a warm hand between your shoulder blades out of the elevator, and straight towards his car through the parking lot.

__________

A sense of nostalgia fills you when Jimin puts the car into park in the underground of his apartment building, the familiarity and knowledge that nothing has really changed in all these years distracting you somewhat, and you’re grateful for the slight reprieve. The paint and cars have changed just a little but the building itself is exactly the same, and you can’t help glancing around as Jimin leads you up the stairs to the lobby, pausing as you both wait patiently for the elevator.

“Feel weird?” He asks, guessing exactly how you’re feeling with just a look at your face and the idea makes you smile a little, face feeling dry and stiff from the saltiness still coating it.

“A little. Not much has changed.” The strange part was knowing you’d even lived here, shared a tenancy with Jimin while you were together and had so many days and nights together in the room just a few floors up. You can only imagine how wide your eyes must be as they eagerly take everything in, and yet you somehow miss the way Jimin is watching you, the corners of his mouth tilted upwards as you glance around in wonder.

The elevator makes it to your floor, and you dutifully step in after Jimin, automatically crossing your arms and holding yourself together. Jimin had stopped touching you over time, feeling your calm no longer calls for his contact, and you immediately start to miss his warmth, even when you’d hoped you wouldn’t.

“The apartment hasn’t really changed either, maybe just less decoration.” The thought makes the both of you laugh gently, the heaviness that had sunk into your stomach starting to lighten, and you don’t doubt it for a second.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Remember when I tried to explain the point of throw pillows to you?” His laughter becomes a little louder as he recalls the conversation, and you immediately grin. “You were so confused as to why I wanted pillows we weren’t going to actually lay on.”

“I still don't think I get it!” The muscle memory takes you easily through the elevator doors once they open to down the hall, and Jimin laughs as he drags his keys from his pocket. “All I wanted was to nap on my lounge!”

“They were silk pillows Jimin. Proper silk! You drooled on one and I could never get the damn stain out!” The two of you join in laughter as Jimin unlocks the apartment, breathlessness hitting you both as you make it inside, and for a second all you can do is look around silently.

The lounge had been replaced with something a bit more chic, a plain grey futon that had a messily thrown blanket that just screamed falling asleep watching tv, and you note it was one of Jimin’s bad habits. Not to mention you would then be the one hearing him complain the next day of a sore neck, and always having to massage him until he stopped whining. Even more annoying was how cute he could be whilst doing it, and the memory brings a slight smile to your face.

“Sorry about the mess, I’ve been sleeping more than cleaning these days.” Jimin automatically moves forwards to tidy the coffee table, and you simply shake your head, watching as he scurries about and shifts things around for a minute until he’s satisfied. “Do you want something to drink? I think I have some tea in the cupboard?”

“That’d be great, actually.” You smile gratefully, though it feels a little off even to you, but even though he notices Jimin doesn’t say anything about it, only watching you for a moment before moving into the kitchen. Listening as he fills the kettle with water, you walk slowly through the apartment until you reach the floor length windows on the side, wincing as you hear something fall in the cupboard as he digs around. But your eyes never leave the skyline, the sunset turning the sky oranges and pinks as it starts to settle behind the buildings, and you let yourself get lost in the sight.

“Hey, you want peppermint or chai?” Jimin’s voice right beside you makes you jump, stumbling a step away before he drops the boxes of teabags and moves to stabilise you, and you close your eyes to pull a deep breath into your lungs. “Hey, you’re ok, I’ve got you.”

“Sorry, I–sorry.” You’re looking down at the little packets all over the floor, immediately bending to pick them up, but Jimin holds you tightly in place, refusing to let you do so, and after a few seconds of stubbornly glaring down at the mess, you finally look up at him.

“Don’t apologise. I mean it, I’m not letting anything happen to you. No matter where you are, I’m going to keep you safe. Before and after this guy is caught, yeah?” His thumbs rub warmth into the exposed skin just below the hems of your sleeves on your upper arms, and you slowly relax into his grip, walls coming down. “Have I ever let you down before?”

“No.” You speak with confidence, and you can see the way Jimin’s eyes fill with warmth at the trust in your gaze.

“Then believe me when I say I’m not going to now.” He waits for you to nod before rubbing your arms gently and bending down to collect the strewn packets, and when he straightens he wraps his arm around your shoulders and guides you along into the kitchen. You let him sit you down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, and watch as he picks out a large mug for you.

“Since when do you keep peppermint tea on hand?” He turns just enough to give you a playful stink eye, before relaxing his expression into a gentle smile.

“Hoseok comes around at least once a week to do casework together and it’s the only thing he drinks; he’s not really a caffeine person.” Turning, he puts the boxes in front of you and gestures between them. “Which would you like?”

You finally start to relax around an hour later, one cup of tea down and the fresh refill warm in your hands as Jimin moves gently around the apartment, taking phone calls and typing away on his laptop as you quietly watch the tv. You won’t admit it, but you really spend way more time watching him than you do the movie that’s playing.

His aura still hasn't changed even after so many years, that same warmth and comforting softness that kept you feeling relaxed and safe for so long still on him like a blanket, and you even find yourself taking comfort in the natural scent of your surroundings. The blanket he’d wrapped you tight in smelled so strongly of his cologne you don’t doubt he’d slept here multiple times the past few weeks, and the pillow you lean down to rest your head on has the same sweet scent that grips you everytime he leans in to hold you tight.

The feeling of his presence is everywhere from the clutter of case files littering each surface, to the fine layer of dust you can smell from the way he’s always forgotten that dusting is a thing. He’s so completely himself, since forever, and the thought comforts you more that any weapon or security system ever could.

“Are you enjoying the movie? You can change it if you want, it’s just what was on.” You blink two or three times before you fully come to, and when you focus once more you find yourself looking straight at Jimin himself, noting the way his cheeks are bunched and his lips are pressed together as though he’s trying not to laugh. And you soon realise it’s because of how you’d been sat, staring hard at the side of his head with your mouth fallen open in concentration.

Jaw snapping shut hard enough to trigger a sharp ache in your teeth, you flush far redder than you care to admit as you jerk your head to the side and refocus on the screen. You have absolutely no clue what’s happening in the movie, but pretending is far better than having to admit to staring at Jimin so intently. “This is fine. It’s good.”

“Okay.” He nods, a smile still pulling at his cheeks, and for a moment he just watches you, enjoying the way your face stays heated under his watchful gaze. But then he recaptures your attention with a loud yawn, arching his chest out as he stretches, and when he refocuses on you his eyes are glassy with moisture, shining like crystals. “I’m probably going to have to get ready for bed soon. Do you want to have a shower?”

“I don’t have any clothes.” Jimin hums, thinking for a second, and you watch as he jumps up enthusiastically, feet scuffling on the carpet as he makes his way across the room, and you watch as he waddles endearingly through the door to the bedroom. You listen as the rumble of the closet doors sliding open sounds, and a slight scuffle before silence, and then Jimin reappears in the doorway, holding a surprisingly familiar item of clothing.

“Here! I found this a few months back in a box in the cupboard. I just kept forgetting to give it back to you.” Your chest bubbles with warmth while your stomach breaks out in butterflies, and you accept the hoodie he hands you with a shocked smile. It’s not yours, not really, but you’d stolen it so regularly it had become an unspoken rule that while he may have bought the hoodie, it was yours far more than his.

“I thought you’d kept it when I moved out.” Your fingers are playing with the softness of the fabric, and a slightly awkward silence falls over the both of you as he watches you roll the cloth between your fingers.

“It was your favourite, I would’ve let you keep it.” You look up at him then, catching something unidentifiable in his eyes before he blinked it away, and then you’re left looking at each other as your hands fall still in your lap. All until he clears his throat gruffly and shakes himself into composure, turning on his heel. “I’ll get you a towel and some pants.”

The walk to the bathroom is plagued with silence once Jimin disappears into his office, and you find yourself gazing out the large apartment windows as you walk across the living room. Your eyes dart from each inch of darkness outside to the next, fear in that now ever-present feeling of eyes on you unshakable, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly your heart beat speeds up. As do your feet as you rush into the bathroom and close the door with a heavy sigh.

You can't help but crank up the heat, steam floating from the tiles at the bottom of the shower to make a mist above your head, and your tense muscles seemingly melt once you step inside. The water burns a little against your tender eyes and dry cheeks, but your skin quickly adjusts as you tip your head forward under the stream, allowing the downpour to drip down your cheeks and off your chin. It’s a little hard to breathe in the thickness of the foggy cubicle, but you start to feel a little lighter once the tingling of heat takes your attention.

The bodywash you find in the shower caddy is the same it’s always been, and you find yourself guilty of holding the open top to your nose just a few seconds longer than should be deemed sensible, losing yourself further in the familiarity of Jimin’s signature scent. Bergamot and pine settle deep in your senses and a blanket of calm covers you, the smell only becoming more pungent as you massage the foam into the skin of your chest and arms. Jimin had always been a symbol of security in your life; safety, love and support, and you’ve never been able to kick that little habit of finding solace in the smallest signs of his presence.

And naturally this had meant that you’d lost your way every now and then after losing that source of comfort, no longer having someone to turn to when things get a little too tough or something goes bump in the night. You’d had to grow a lot since splitting with Jimin, and though now you’d like to consider yourself to be a relatively independent woman; able to pay her own bills, cook, clean and pave her own way in the world, you couldn’t help letting yourself be little selfish when faced with what you’d thought was lost forever.

By the time you’ve used his sweet orange shampoo and conditioner, and lathered yourself until no skin was visible, the entire room is swallowed in a cloudy haze, and your skin is bright pink from the rigorousness you’d scrubbed at yourself with. Stepping from the shower to wrap yourself in a towel, you find yourself cringing at how you instantly begin to sweat from the humidity, and immediately switch on the fan above you.

As the mist clears, so does the mirror, and you finally get a proper look at yourself. Your cheeks are shiny and raw, from fingers pressed a little too hard and the heat turned up just a little too hot, and your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, a clear sign of your exhaustion. It’s not even that late, only going on around eight o’clock, but your body aches with a heaviness that feels like you haven't slept in days, and as you pull the sweatpants up your tired legs, you groan at the way your back twinges in protest.

Foregoing your underwear and bra is surprisingly comfortable under the loose clothes, though you instantly burrow yourself into the hoodie once you step from the bathroom back into reality, arms crossed over your freed breasts and fingers tucked into your armpits to escape the slight chill of Jimin’s air conditioning. It’s like a habit, the way your eyes dart over to the windows again, but your heart calms at the sight of Jimin’s blinds drawn across the glass, hiding you from the outside world.

The man himself is sat in front of the tv, eyes heavy and starting to droop as he watches the program on screen sleepily. There’s a sandwich sat untouched on the coffee table, but the sight of an empty plate beside it leads you to believe he’s already had one himself, which leaves the only assumption to be that he’d made one for you. The thought of eating suddenly has your stomach groaning, and you pat it gently as you approach the lounge, finally catching Jimin’s attention.

“Hey, give me those.” He throws the blanket you’d seen earlier to the side off his lap and immediately reaches out for the clothes you have in your hands, your outfit from earlier. After a slight hesitation you hand them to him, trying not to think about the fact your bra and panties is so clearly at the top of the pile now in his hands. “I have a load of washing ready to be done so I’ll throw them in, okay? That sandwich is for you, you need to eat before bed.”

His no-nonsense attitude is comfortingly familiar as always, and you give his back a slight smile as you watch him disappear into the laundry, picking up your plate and taking a small bite before he reappears. It’s your favourite kind, and your heart flutters at the idea he’d remembered such a minor thing, but you know it’s silly to entertain such thoughts when you know you remember his too.

The tv is the only thing filling the silence as you eat, the two of you sat quietly side by side as a movie you don't recognize plays, and quicker than you thought you could manage, the sandwich is devoured and you’re brushing crumbs off your hands. The clang of your plate being placed on top of his shatters the silence, and Jimin jerks back awake from where he’d begun to doze off to automatically take the plates to the kitchen, but you scoop them up before he can beat you with a heavy feeling of guilt settling in your gut.

Jimin had done the morning shift, no doubt started work before the sun had risen, and yet he’d still hung around until he knew you’d clock off, and now stayed up to make sure you were safe and had eaten. Guilt starts to toxify, transforming into self-contempt, and you suddenly realise how much of a burden you’re becoming on him again.

Which only gets worse when he approaches you in the kitchen where you’re rinsing the plates in the sink and chewing on your lower lip, deep in thought. “I got the bed ready for you, so you can head in whenever you’d like.”

“What?” You frown, turning to him and furrowing your brows further at the sight of him rubbing at his puffy eyes.

“The bed? I–”

“Jimin, I’m not taking the bed from you.” This time he’s the one frowning, and you hug yourself as his lips settle in a slight pout. “It’s your apartment, I can’t take your–”

“You’re not taking it, I’m giving it to you.” He sighs tiredly, and for a second his frustration is clear on his face before he rolls his shoulders with a grunt, joints clicking. “I don’t want you having a crappy nights’ sleep on the couch when I can give you the bedroom.”

“So you expect me to let you have a shitty sleep instead? Jimin you’ve been up since god knows when, I won’t just let you–” Your voice is getting higher in pitch, and you’re cut off when Jimin turns on his heel with a scoff and makes for the lounge. “–Hey!”

Petulantly, you run past him and clamber over the back of the futon, almost falling off in your daring attempt at beating him to the couch, and he stands frozen, gaping down at you from where he’s stopped mid step. You know it’s childish, but you can't help it, and when Jimin laughs incredulously and makes another move to grab you where you sit, you wrap yourself into the blanket and lie across the lounge, eyes closed.

“Are you joking?” Jimin’s voice is full of mirth, and when you peek one eye open to see him laughing silently, your own lips twist in amusement.

“Go to bed, J‘min.” Your voice is muffled by the blanket, but you know he can hear you, and through your one eye you watch as he stares down at you for a moment before shaking his head, and finally walking across the room to his bedroom, quietly muttering to himself with a smile.

In the midst of his absence, you finally notice how soft and comfortable the futon actually is, and the resistance to burrow down into the cushions and relax with your nose filled with Jimin’s scent embedded onto the blanket is futile. In fact, you relax so hard that you’re drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness faster than you’d realised was possible, and you get a small fright when something carefully rubs your shoulder.

“Hm-wha–?” Your voice cracks a little when you squint through the dimness of the room, but your body relaxes instantly when you recognize the figure standing over you, and Jimin smiles down at you gently as you finally spot the pillow and blanket in his hands.

His touch is even more gentle when he lifts under your neck to ease your head up, and you comply easily as the cool cotton of the pillowcase touches your skin. The comforter he places over you then is even nicer than the blanket he'd slipped from you, and you can instantly tell its the one off his bed. Had you been more lucid, you’d have argued against him giving you his personal bedding, but with the way your body is already sinking further into the cushions below, you can’t focus on anything further.

And just before you fully fall into unconsciousness, you feel a cool, gentle palm brush the hair off your cheek, along with the soothing timber of his voice as he mumbles to you good night.

__________

Every inch of your body is on fire as the fingers that are wrapped around your throat tighten. Every fibre of your being screaming for air as you struggle uselessly against the hold, and your fingers and toes start to tingle as your limbs go numb.

“I told you.” His voice sounds far away through the blood pumping through your ears, and as the rush of frozen air glides over your skin, you feel your body start to twitch and jerk. “You’re next. I told–I TOLD YOU.”

The sound that escapes your throat is dry and grating, and though your eyes burn you’re too numb to feel the tears pouring from them even as they drip from your chin. You gurgle and hack under his pulsating grip, and the sounds seem to make him even more enthusiastic, second hand coming up to loop his arm around your neck instead, and your heart starts to slow in your chest as his hand shifts to frame your jaw.

“_____.”

Your muscles shudder and shift, rolling across your bones as though no longer connected, ligament and tendon dissolved into your blood. And in the roaring silence, you realise you can breathe again, the hold on your throat gone, but your lungs are still empty as you whine and gasp.

“_____!”

You see him, stood in the doorway of your bedroom, faceless and shrouded in darkness, and your bones are heavy as lead, even as you try your hardest to hide under your comforter.

“P-Please, don’t!” You can feel the vibration of his footsteps as he steps closer, and your heart starts to beat in time with the thudding of your own feet as you’re suddenly running down a strangely familiar hallway. “H-Help me! Someone help!”

But no matter how hard you push your feet, the end of the hall seems to get further and further away, and the figure looming behind you gets closer…

“_____, open your eyes, sweetheart!” And closer...

“N-No!” Closer…

“Soon.”

__________

“Jimin!” The scream that rips from your throat tears a sharp aching pain down your chest, and suddenly you come to with your body drenched in sweat, face dripping with tears as you rub your sodden cheek against a firm, warm shoulder.

“I’m here, baby. I promise, I’m here.” Jimin’s scent engulfs you where your head is pressed into the curve of his neck, lean body leant half over you where you’re curled up on the futon in his apartment. And as each wave of recognition comes back to you, you sag into the security and comfort he personifies, and he merely holds you close as you sob into his skin.

“J-J’min–” Your legs tangle up in the blanket still caught around you in a small panic, and the moment you’re free from the restriction you half launch yourself into his lap, straddling the leg closest to you even as you drape sideways over his legs. And though he grunts slightly with the effort it takes to catch you, he doesn’t hesitate to pull you even closer, face pressed into your damp hair as he rocks you gently back and forth.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. You’re okay–” The tenderness with which he tightens his grip and pulls the blanket back over your shaking form sends you through another wave of tears, and he gives a deep sigh as he hushes you again. He’s always been instinctively empathetic when it came to you, and seeing you so drowned in emotion is affecting him more than he wants to let on.

And god, do you miss him. It’s so easy to forget that missing presence when you willfully ignore it’s absence, but being so close to Jimin again...it’s not hard to remember all the reasons you loved him in the first place.

His bare skin is warm against your hands where their clutching at his biceps to keep him close, and for the first time you realise he’s shirtless, face weary with exhaustion with the way he’s been pulled from sleep lord only knows how long after finally settling in for the night, and another wave of guilt envelopes you. It’s a push in what can only be the right direction though, as you quickly swallow enough air to have your breathing back to a more normal rate, and your hands roughly swipe at the moisture on your face.

“Hey,” Jimin catches your hands as they rub the skin of your cheeks raw, and you feel even more pitiful as you blink down at him through the clumping wetness of your lashes. He sighs again, eyes warm and familiar even as they echo with the pain of seeing you in such a state, and your bottom lip wobbles pitifully before you nab it between your teeth. “You’re here with me. You’re safe. Nothing can happen to you here, okay?”

“Hho-okay.” You can’t help but hiccup a little as you finally start to really settle in his arms, and Jimin stays patient through each minute it takes you to relax again. His hand shifts from yours to settle between your shoulder blades, and you’re brought back to reality by the way the inside of his sweatshirt is starting to stick to your sweaty skin underneath. It’d been a while since you’d had such a strongly upsetting nightmare like that, and your body had surely taken the brunt of the toll. “S-Sorr–”

“Don’t apologise.” Jimin’s hand on your back pulls you close again, and you don’t think twice before nestling your face into his neck again as he gently rubs up and down the length of your spine. Your legs are bent relatively uncomfortably under you, and you finally shift up to relieve his thigh from the pressure of your weight on such an awkward angle.

And now you’re fully straddling his thigh, hovering half in the air so as not to settle your backside on his knee, and although your face is starting to burn from the emotions bubbling in your stomach, Jimin’s gaze stays neutral and concerned. But you can’t help the shyness building within you at the sight of his sculpted torso laid out so clearly in front of you, while you sit perched in his lap. And as much as you wanted to reach out and touch him the way you would have in the past, the ice cold water of reality washes down your back in the form of a whisper in the back of your mind that he’s not yours to touch anymore.

Jimin doesn’t stop you as you finally slip from his lap back onto the lounge beside him, but he does stay close, sliding over until your thighs are pressed together, and his eyes stay keen and alert as he searches your expression. “I’m okay, Jimin.”

“I know.” His eyes are warmed slightly as he curls the corner of his lips up into a lopsided smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “My brave girl. You’ve always been able to overcome this.”

Your blush intensifies for reasons you’d rather not admit, a flutter in your stomach that seems to be specially reserved just for him, and you busy yourself with putting your pillow back into place from where you’d knocked it on the floor. But a gentle palm on your arm stops you, and when you look up Jimin shakes his head.

“Come to bed with me.” You stare at him, almost blankly, and your heart starts to speed up again in your chest. If Jimin recognizes how suggestive the words could be, he doesn’t let it show, choosing instead to swipe the pillow from your hands and hook the blanket over his shoulder, finally hiding some of his toned chest. It takes a few seconds for you to really respond to what he’s asking, but he doesn’t rush you, and when you finally stand he reaches out with a warm hand and laces his fingers with yours.

The steps you finally take into his bedroom is like a blast from the past, and with the way the left side of the bed is bare of pillows, you can instantly tell he still sleeps on the same side he used to. He makes his way to the bed instantly, patting your pillow into place and fluffing the comforter out until it covers the entirety of the bed, and when he turns back to you, you start to grow shy again.

You haven't shared a bed with anyone since the two of you split, and the thought of crawling back in beside him now after so long has a strange ache in your chest forming. If you were to focus on it long enough...you’d recognize it as longing.

“Don’t overthink this.” Jimin takes your stiff silence as discomfort, and he brings you back to the present once more as he slowly walks towards you. His torso is even more visible in the clearer light, warmed by the lamp lit up on his bedside table, and you almost feel the need to avert your eyes as he gets closer, regardless of having seen it all before. You think it’s in the certain way his sleep shorts hang off his hips, and the way the light bends and curves along the toned ridges of his stomach, but he in his entirety has always been a little overwhelming. He hasn’t changed in the few years you’d been apart, and almost regrettably you don’t doubt that you have.

“I-I’m not. I promise.” You nervously sweep the hair falling into your eyes back behind your ear, and his worried expression relaxes as you finally take the few steps towards the bed. He catches you before you can shift the blankets and climb onto the mattress though, a cool hand pressed to your cheek as he notices the way your baby hairs stick to the edges of your hairline.

“You’re warm. Would you rather a sleep shirt instead of the jumper?” At your nod he moves to the other side of the bed and digs through the bottom drawer of his nightstand until he produces a plain black shirt, and when you accept the fabric he holds towards you, he automatically spins on his heel and heads back out to the living area.

He’d remembered you were bare under the sweater, and you give a grateful smile to the empty room as you pull the slightly damp fabric over your head and let it fall off the edge of the bed beside you. The thin cotton of the new shirt is welcome on your humid skin, the cool freshness of the fabric soothing against the heat inside you, and by the time you’re finally slipping down under the covers, Jimin is walking back into the room and closing the door with a quiet click.

The soft padding of his feet against the carpet as he rounds the bed to his side brings contentment that only welcome company can bring, and you find yourself involuntarily nestling down into the bed even more. A gleam of metal shines in the corner of your eyes, something heavy being placed inside the top of his nightstand, and the both of you silently ignore the fact you’d just witnessed him returning his gun to it’s hiding place under a false base in the bottom of the drawer.

“Comfy?” He keeps his voice gentle, pushing the drawer closed smoothly, and you barely blink up at him before you nod your head. The last thing you see before he switches off the light is the sparkle of his eyes as he smiles down at you.

The mattress shifts slightly as he slides under the covers on his side, and the fresh scent of clean bedsheets and Jimin is a heady aroma of comfort when his movements fluff the blankets, and your eyes droop as the night starts to catch up with you once more.

Somewhere in the stillness of midnight, with your body half asleep and heavy, you manage to roll onto your side without thought and gently tuck your face between the softness of Jimin’s pillow and his shoulder. You’re too far gone to hear his soft noise of surprise, nor is it light enough in the room for you to have been able to see the gleam of his smile as he looks down at you. But one thing's for sure; when he rolls onto his own side and pulls your sleepy frame closer, pressing you into the warmth of his chest like you never left, you fall asleep faster than ever.

__________

Your rousing from sleep comes slowly, consciousness strengthening in waves as you gradually get back the movement in your body through the thick dregs of sleep that hold you tight, and once you can feel again you realise how warm your pillow is beneath your head. And only when you nuzzle down further into it and feel the slight pressure of a broad surface against your back do your eyes open to show you a long arm stretched out past your head and dangling off the edge of the bed.

A minute must pass before the night prior refreshes in your mind, and at a closer glance you recognize the rings adorning the fingers as they twitch slightly, and you already assume the sight before you when you shift and turn onto your back.

Jimin is still fast asleep where he’s been pressed against your back, shoulders and chest fluctuating with every breath as he sleeps restfully, and for a few moments you bask in the feeling of his closeness as he unconsciously uses the arm beneath your head to wrap around your back and pull you even closer. And now facing him on your right side, up close in this way you haven't been in so long, every minute detail of his features is more prominent than ever, and you simply lose yourself in his soft, relaxed expression.

You cannot pinpoint how long you stay lain against him, time ticking on without your attention, but when the pressing need for hunger becomes too hard to ignore, you find yourself struggling to climb from his embrace without rousing him. The sound of your feet against the carpet even seems too loud, and you chew on your lower lip when you freeze at a slight shift in his position, but when he gives a heavy sigh and starts to gently snore again, you continue on.

The sight of the city through the blinds when you open them just slightly is an almost dreary view, a haze of grey in the sky with only the slightest slivers of blue peeking through while a light cover of rain pitter-pats against the glass in front of you. It’s not very late in the morning, the sun not yet high enough to light up this side of the building like it had in the evening sunset last night, but the city below you waits for no one, and the bustle continues on through the early morning with cars beeping their horns and people crawling the streets.

Your stomach starts to growl as you set the coffee machine to brew, and when a quick glance into Jimin’s fridge shows nothing of much substance, you turn to the pantry instead and quickly choose a cereal before pouring two bowls. You time it well enough that you’re able to pour milk into your coffee just after your cereal, and as you settle at the counter, Jimin’s bedroom door creaks open just loud enough to catch your attention.

“Morning.” Jimin’s eyes are half open and his voice is little more than a croak, but you know your hair is just as crazy as his is.

“Hey.” He pads across the floor towards you and immediately heads to the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup quickly before settling beside you and tipping milk into his own cereal. For a few moments there’s nothing to be heard other than the scrape of cutlery on porcelain as you both eat in silence, but your mind is still racing with the events of the last twenty-four hours.

“How’d you sleep?” Jimin is far more alert when he finishes his breakfast, standing to take both your bowl and his own to the sink, and when he turns back to face you it takes you a few moments to compute that he’s really still half naked, not helped by the way he stretches his back and sweeps his fingers through his hair.

“Better. Thanks for...taking care of me. Last night.” He’s shaking his head before you finish your sentence, and you’d be rolling your eyes if you weren't being distracted by the way the muscles on his ribs curve and tense with his movements as he lifts his arms over his head to crack his back.

“Don’t need to thank me for that, _____. You know that.” He steps forward until he’s stood beside you, close enough you can feel the heat of his exposed skin, and you feel yourself swallow thickly. “I made arrangements yesterday when we got here. I hope you know I’m not taking any risks when it comes to your safety, especially not until this guy is caught.”

“What kind of arrangements?” You almost dread his answer, and you know he can tell by the way his face twists into a wistful smirk, but you maintain your worried expression. The last thing you want is for things to blow up and for word to get around in your apartment building that something is wrong. As far as you’re concerned the more low-key the better.

“Officers will be on hand around the clock–” you groan before you can help yourself, the dreaded image of personal bodyguards watching your every move becoming very real in your mind, but Jimin just rolls his eyes “–don’t start that. This is for your safety.”

“I know.” You would like to say you’re not whining, but lord knows even you can’t lie that well to yourself, and it’s making Jimin’s smile widen into a grin as he pinches your chin between thumb and forefinger.

“It’s nothing major, I promise. They’ll fit in to regular security and no one will even notice they’re there.” You slowly nodded in acquiescence, and Jimin continues to smile down at you gently. “Besides, this is the closest we’ve come to tracking this guy down, and I will stop at nothing to ensure your safety, you should know that.”

“I do.” You’re grumbling, but the pout of your lips causes his smile to widen, and he releases your chin to take a step back, oblique muscles rippling as he twists his spine with a low click.

“Yeah, I know.” You’re grumbling, but the pout of your lips causes his smile to widen, and he releases your chin to take a step back, oblique muscles rippling as he twists his spine with a low click.

"I'll go grab your clothes from the laundry, and then I've gotta head into work okay?" Jimin snags your empty bowl off the counter and spins to rinse it in the sink quickly. "The team Hoseok organised for your apartment building will be waiting for me to take you home and debrief them."

He turns back to find your lips pouting again, though more ironically this time as you try to ignore the way the hairs on your arms are starting to raise at the mere thought of going back to the apartment. Somewhere that had once felt like a safe haven, now ruined by the revelation of just how exposed your quiet little life has become.

"C'mon, pouty. Let's get ready for the day." He teases, pout of retaliation on full force enough to pull a genuine smile from you as he drags you from the counter.

__________

The next few days passes by slower than any you can remember, and as the morning blends into evening and the moon rises high into the night in a blur of shifting stars and muddy clouds, you almost lose your concept of time passing.

You've not left your apartment since Jimin brought you home, stuck in your fortress as you await the outcome of the past few days, body constantly locked tense and on alert at the mere hint of a noise outside your apartment door. And everytime your phone chimes with an alert, you're stuck dreading the idea it could be more bad news.

It's not until mid morning on the fourth day that you finally crack, the walls closing in on you the more time you spend between them, and you call it quits at the barren sight of your fridge bouncing off the back of your aching eyes. The migraine you'd woken up with intensifies as you prepare yourself to leave the apartment, only to be stopped short by a sharply dressed man holding his hand out between you and the door that exits onto the street.

"I'm sorry Miss, but I am unable to let you leave." You blink up at him, vaguely recognizing him from the group you'd been introduced to as your team of protectors, and he starts to shift awkwardly from toe to toe as your gaze unintentionally turns scathing. But you can't exactly help it, stomach growling from hunger and a painfully sharp stabbing along the base of your skull without rest. "D-Detective Park's orders, Miss."

"Well can I at least go to the corner store so I can eat something today?" He glances back awkwardly, clenching and unclenching his fingers before finally dropping his blocking limb, and when you follow his gaze its to find yet another officer dressed quite casually behind the front desk. If you hadn't been clued in, you'd almost have thought him to be an unfamiliar member of the buildings' staff.

But his stiff posture and sharp gaze being concentrated on you gives him away easily, and by the way he seems to silently warn his partner with another sharp look and an almost imperceptible shake of his head, you can only imagine what Jimin must have used as an incentive for the two to stick to their task.

The man before you turns back around, meeting your tired look with a sheepish expression, and you need not stand there any longer to know you're not getting out of the building alone today.

Rightfully, you should be happy with the knowledge that the officers entrusted with your safety are taking their jobs seriously, but with your stomach grumbling and the thought of getting some good, oily takeout into your stomach from the restaurant just down the street, your acceptance for such a thing is dwindling by the second.

And so you dig your phone from your pocket, frowning at the low battery percentage flashing up at you as you dial, and you don't miss the almost fearful look the boy twists to give the other once more, ignoring them as the line rings.

It takes until almost the final ring for Jimin to answer, a few moments of white noise and muffled speaking before the click of a door shutting silences it and then Jimin's smooth voice is floating through the receiver.

"_____? Is everything okay?" He sounds worried, and you feel a twinge at the fact you're bothering him at work, but the burning need for freedom is hotter than the self disdain you're capable of feeling in the moment.

"I can't even leave my apartment building, Jimin. Are you serious?" You turn away from the officer in front of you to face the elevators you'd just come from, stepping a few paces as though you could get out of earshot in small area enclosing the three of you, and you all ignore the young boy that sometimes works the front desk when he passes by with a glance.

"_____–" Jimin starts with a sigh, a slap in the background that gives you the intense visual of him having thrown a folder down to pinch the bridge of his nose and you frown in response. "I told you what was happening, the perp could be anywhere–"

"So what I just get to sit and be miserable in my apartment while I wait for you to track him down? That could be weeks, Jimin!" He gives another sigh and you sniff, feeling the telltale moisture triggered by your frustration starting to tickle the back of your throat. "I just want to be able to at least live my life. Otherwise, all I can do is sit around and think about him... I don't want to think about him anymore, J'min."

"I know, swee–_____. I know. But I really think this is the safest option until we can organise something better–"

"I just want to go get some groceries, Jimin! Please? Just down the street, that's it!" You sniff again, just short of stomping your feet as you start to grow more flustered, cheeks burning as you speak lowly into the receiver.

"Don't cry, please." Jimin croaks, betraying his exhaustion, and it's muffled as though he's buried his face into his hands. "I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you, and this is the best way for me to ensure that. I can have one of the boys come and bring you something to eat until we can organise a shopping day."

"J'min, please?" You sound so small, and it only makes it harder for him to say–

"I'm sorry." The gentle beep is far too sharp in Jimin's ear with the way his head is starting to ache, and he stares at the 'Call: Ended' screen until it disappears and the display goes black.

You don't offer the officers in the lobby a second glance, beelining back for the elevator with your head tilted forward far enough to hide your burning cheeks and wet eyelashes from anyone nearby. The ding echoes extra loud as the doors open upon your request, and you bury yourself in the corner with a pitiful sniffle as you complain to yourself quietly, tone akin to that of a child being refused by it's mother to buy candy.

Pushing yourself off the wall with a grunt when the elevator gets back to your floor, you almost stumble over the threshold onto the carpeted hallway. And you only grow more flustered when on approaching your door, they key to your apartment slips out of your fingers and slides precariously close to the slight gap at the very bottom.

Choking on an alarmed gasp, you immediately drop down onto one knee to retrieve it, but as you go to straighten up, there is a metallic shriek at the end of the hall that makes you freeze in fear, eyes flickering up to see the exit door leading to the stairwell. But...for some reason, it almost looks like its...propped open.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up with the instant electricity that runs across your skin, and you nearly drop your key once more as your fingers start to tremble. Staring hard, you ignore the ache in the backs of your eyes as you catch the gap between the door and the wall widen only just enough to be noticeable while you're watching, as though someone had let the door swing shut too fast and was...checking to see if you'd noticed.

But the stairwell is dark compared to the bright hallway, only ever used by maintenance workers and on the rare occasion the elevator is unavailable, and even as you stay unblinking, you cannot discern whether it's the natural shadow of the room beyond the gap...or if that's the silhouette of a person trying very hard to not be seen.

Sweat breaks out across your temples and upper lip, muscles locking up as your fight or flight instincts scream at you to run, and just as the gap wavers again, and you feel the terror start to clog up your throat, your shoulder is grabbed by a large, warm hand.

"_____–ahh!" Taehyung himself yells in shock as you slap his hand away with a horrified shriek, knocking something large and dark out of his hand and distantly hearing it hit the wall next to Taehyung's own apartment door. Holding his reddening hand to his chest, he watches you throw yourself to the side and press your back tight to the wall. And there's a few tense moments of silence as the two of you merely stay frozen, carefully watching the other.

"S-sorry." You break through the tense atmosphere quietly, relaxing slowly against the wall as Taehyung eyes you carefully for a moment before gradually crouching down a few feet from you. And you don't blame his hesitance, positive he's waiting for you to lash out and slap him again, but you merely chew on your lower lip as he frowns down at you.

"Did I give you a fright?" At your nod, he wraps his arms around his knees carefully, fully squatting down in front of you now. "I'm sorry, I was worried something was wrong, you were all hunched over staring into the corner."

"I, uh," you glance back towards the stairwell exit doorway, finding the door as it is usually - closed and flush to the frame, and instantly think better than to admit your crazy sounding reality. "I dropped my key, was just trying to spot it on the floor and got, um, distracted."

Waving said item around in the air, you quickly push yourself back up onto your feet even as your legs shake a little more than you'd like from the fear, and the added pressure of being crouched so awkwardly for longer than you'd initially thought. Taehyung stands as you do, grunting a little as one of his knees clicks quietly back into place, and before you can ask what he'd been out here for, he retrieves his lost item from the floor a few feet away.

"I was just coming over to give you this back. The roof's officially fixed now, maintenance guy just left, no more mini indoor swimming pool!" In his hands is the bucket you'd lent him almost two weeks ago, still in perfect condition, and you hope he doesn't notice the way your hand shakes as you reach out to accept it, gaze lingering on the tightly shut door at the end of the hall.

“What a shame!” Distantly, you wonder if he notices how fake your smile and laughter is.

__________

Squinting, you watch for a few seconds through the peephole as Jimin looks down at his feet, running the fingers of his right hand through the tousled strands of hair falling over his forehead while the plastic of the bag of takeaway in his hand crinkles quietly.

"Hey." He greets you quietly when you open the door, and you mumble the same back to him as he shuffles closer to the doorframe, the bag sounding again as he fidgets with the handles in his palm. "I brought your favourite."

Jimin lifts the bag up to his waist with a lopsided smile as though you hadn't already noticed it in his hand, and you let the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you step back to make space for his entry. He beelines straight for the kitchen, and the sound of your door beeping shut is loud in the quiet that sits between the two of you. The sound of plates being set onto the counter is even louder when you pull them from the cupboard, and the two of you dish up the dinner he'd brought in silence.

The tv fills the quiet as the two of you sit and start to eat, you on the lounge with your legs tucked beneath you and a pillow over your thighs balancing your plate, while Jimin settles on the floor, using the glass coffee table while the necklace he wears tinkles against the edge every now and then.

It would be a lie to say that the lack of conversation isn't at least a little bit awkward, and you're finally finished hyping yourself up to say something, apologise to Jimin, just do anything to fix the painfully tense silence, when Jimin finally speaks again.

"I'm sorry I was so inconsiderate of your boundaries. I should know better than to think you'd be comfortable being locked away like this, that wasn't respectful of your independence." You're already looking at him when he turns to meet your eyes, and your lips press together to hide the embarrassing surprised gape of your mouth.

He twists further to fully face you, pushing his empty plate away, and you drop your gaze to the scraps of food left on your own plate, pushing them around slowly with your chopsticks. You can feel your cheeks heating with an embarrassed flush as your throat closes up on the reprimand you want to give him. It's not his fault, not at all.

"I know," You jump a little in your seat at the feeling of the back of his hand brushing up against the side of your knee, and the blush intensifies. "I know I have the tendency to take things like this a little too far. But it's because I couldn't bear it if something were to happen to you, when I could be there to stop it."

"J'min." You can feel the stress of the day, the week and the month amounting together as the back of your throat gets a little more tight, and the inner corners of your eyes start to feel a little more wet. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I acted like such a child this morning."

"You didn't, _____–"

"Yes, I did. And I should know better than anyone that you're just looking out for me." Jimin immediately moves up onto the lounge as your tone gets a little thinner, and you don't stop him when he moves the plate off of your lap onto the coffee table, leaving the pillow in your lap for your fingers to dig into the fraying decorations around the edges. "I was, I was really rude. I'm r-really sorry."

The sting of your teeth splitting into the chapped skin of your lower lip is the only thing holding in the sobs as your embarrassment over your earlier petulance combines with the stress and loneliness of the past few days. The saltiness of tears mixes with the iron tang of blood on your tongue as they slowly track down your cheeks and over your lips, and your frustration surmounts at the fact that you're even crying, because you're stronger than this, truly, but–

"It's so hard." Jimin is close enough for the warmth of his body to radiate onto your skin, and when you tilt your chin down to hide your blotchy, wet face he leans in a little closer to keep his eyes on your pink nose. "This position you've been forced into, it really is. And I don't blame you in the slightest for getting frustrated at me. Hell, I would be frustrated too, you know that."

His fingertips are so very warm when they graze across your damp cheek in an attempt to brush your hair back behind your ear, and you can feel a couple strands stick to the moisture before his thumb swipes them back. His hand doesn't move from there though, the digit continuing it's path across your cheekbone before landing on your right ear, and your body feels the urge to shudder when he massages the lobe gently between his thumb and the side of his forefinger.

Your neck loosens up instantly, head dropping a little into his palm as he continues the motion, and you don't fail to notice the soft smile that breaks across his cheeks, an old, gentle, familiar warmth in his eyes that you can't help but start to lose yourself in. Distantly, you notice the tears slowing until they're little more than a dryness under your eyes, which grow heavier with each circle of his thumb on your ear.

"You've been so strong, but it's okay to be a little bit scared sometimes, baby."

Seconds tick by in silence, nothing but the sound of the two of you breathing the same air as you both sit as still as can be. Your bent legs had at some point dropped to the side to rest against the thickness of Jimin's thigh and you'd relaxed far enough into the offered warmth of his embrace that your side is now pressed against him.

Slowly, desperate not break the moment, Jimin lifts his free hand to cup the other side of your jaw, and you find it a little hard to breathe as his face gets even closer to yours, the light from the lamp beside you shining on the pretty curve of his cheekbone and illuminating the deep v of his cupids bow dimpling his upper lip.

You'd spent more nights than you could remember, imagining what it would be like to press your lips to his just one more time. And to come so close in this moment, with the still very possible chance that you still wouldn't get to feel the plush softness of them again, well; if you weren't crying before, you certainly might after–

Jimin's lips brush over yours softer than a rose petal could be brushed by the wind, and your fingers instantly clutch at whatever available fabric they can grip between the buttons lining his sternum. The hand he'd been gripping the soft flesh of your earlobe with drops and catches your fingers in his as they tremble against his chest, and for a few seconds his digits merely play with yours as he waits for you to react.

You surge up against him with a muffled gasp, lips overshooting and pressing to the corner of his mouth before he tilts his head and rights you with a gentle tug against your chin. He doesn't waver, strong and balanced even as you press yourself against him, and all at once the taste of lips is turning salty again as tears start to fall uncontrollably from your eyes to wet both your cheeks and his.

He doesn't let you rush the kiss, controlling the pace with firm, guiding presses of his lips, and you fall into speed with him as he slowly tilts you back against the couch with a gentle sigh through his nose that tickles your cheek. Jimin releases your hand that he'd braced against his chest to cup the other side of your jaw once again, and when your head meets the back of the lounge finally, he lets the warm digits stroke gently down the sides of your neck until his pinky fingers rest in the divots of your collarbones.

You can't breathe, lungs malfunctioning in the ecstasy that Jimin has so effortlessly injected directly into your bloodstream, and just as you're starting to go lightheaded, there's a low buzz that vibrates dully against the underside of your legs. And for a few silent moments you ignore it, sucking on the plump flesh of Jimin's lower lip and feeling the way he instantly goes to chase your own with his teeth out of habit.

But then his hand drops to his side and jerks against his hip until the vibrating device is free of the fabric of his slacks, and he barely glances at the screen as he pulls his lips from yours with a quiet groan, forehead landing on yours gently.

You're almost embarrassed to note how heavy you're breathing, let alone how tightly your leg had slipped up around Jimin's hip in the few seconds you'd been tangled together, and when you turn your head to the side so as not to breath directly against the receiver, he presses his nose into the soft fleshy part of your cheek.

"Park, speaking." He stops breathing to swallow, holding in the panting breath he wants to take but unable to hide the powerful hammering of his heart where its pressed to yours. You can hear the faintest of conversation on the other end of the line, letting Jimin nuzzle his nose against your cheek while your lashes flutter, and he hums every now and then in agreement or to show he's listening to the person on the line. "Okay, yes. I'll be in soon."

The disappointment must be clear on your face as he hangs up the phone and sits back in his original seat once more, wide smile spreading across his face as he slips the device back in his pocket and stands.

"I've been summoned, sweetheart." He bends just far enough to catch your hand in his, tugging on the limb until you put your shaky legs beneath you and push yourself up to standing just to be close to him once again. Jimin holds your hand all the way up until he reaches the door, thumb running back and forth across your knuckles gently, and you feel your stomach flutter like butterfly wings trapped in a glass jar even as your heart aches to see him leave again so suddenly.

"I'll...I'll see you, tomorrow?" He turns to face you again, car keys tinkling in his hand as he pulls them from his pocket, and he nods gently with another smile. A few seconds pass between you, your hands still in his but the rest of your body stiff with insecurity on how to approach this situation. But Jimin beats you to the punch, leaning down and pressing his lips ever so softly against the corner of your mouth for just long enough to have you melt against him, and stumble when he finally pulls back.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he confirms, stroking from your hand up your arm and then back down again until he can tickle his fingers against the palm of your hand one last time before turning and unlocking the door. "Sleep well, sweetheart."

"I will." You call to him as he begins making his way down the hall, unable to help yourself as you lean against the doorframe in order to watch his departure. And not even the bright grin he gives you as he turns around in the elevator is enough to deter you, only the sight of the metal doors reflecting with a hazy blur finally sending you back into your apartment with a gentle sigh.

__________

The sound of crinkling plastic bags is loud when you duck your head through the back door of Jimin's car, reaching as far as you can to retrieve the groceries pushed further across the seat with a groan. But you don't get very far before the door on the other side is clicking open, the view of Jimin's shiny belt buckle burning bright in front of your eyes before he leans down himself and starts to group a bunch of bags on his hands.

He doesn't seem to notice the way your cheeks instantly began to burn, only glancing up at you when you stop moving with a curious gaze, and you quickly move to grab the rest of your things and step back out of the car before he catches on. It's a little hard to close the door with your hand, given how many bag handles you've managed to squeeze into your grip, but within seconds Jimin is by your side, pushing the door shut with his free hand before quickly snagging a few bags from yours despite your quiet refusal.

The mood during your quiet afternoon of shopping had been...good. Neither of you had mentioned the kiss last night, nor had Jimin instigated a second embrace between the two of you, and it had come to the point of you wondering whether it was ever going to be acknowledged.

When thinking back on it last night after he'd left, you could only truly hope that such a thing would not impact his interactions with you negatively, unable to bear the idea that he could draw back from you at such a point within which you needed his companionship and support more than ever. But as one could only expect Jimin sensed your insecurity upon arriving at your apartment that morning faster than you might've hoped, and seemed to silently reassure you with a gentle touch to your arm when helping you into his car.

And even now he's more than happy to urge you closer to his side when another tenant steps on behind the two of you in the elevator, stepping forward to press the door close button and effectively blocking the space between you and the young man with effortless ease. It's almost awkwardly silent in the metal box, the whirring of the machinery operating the contraption broken apart only by the light crinkling of the bags in your hands and the gentle tap of a foot every now and then.

You unintentionally meet the gaze of the young stranger a few times, catching his eyes as he periodically lifts his eyes from his shoes to flit between Jimin and yourself. There's something about him, the almost bright shine of his eyes contrasting strangely with his hard set jaw, and for a few beats he returns your stare, eyes dark and almost...empty, when he glances at the back of Jimin’s head.

And you know his face, you could swear it. You feel as though you've seen him somewhere before, only...younger. Maybe? His name flickers like a dying torch in your mind, sat right on the tip of your tongue as you forget general decency and hold his stare for what is quickly growing longer than what most would deem appropriate. You could swear you know it, something familiar, something easy to remember, something that quickly starts to form on your tongue as–

"J–"

Ding!

The elevator doors open, and the stranger drops your eyes to quickly rush out into the open hallway, making a beeline for the end as you blink the dryness from your eyes and watch as his retreating back is slowly covered by the silver metal of the doors once more, and you're broken from the moment completely by Jimin's arm gently nudging your own.

"You okay?" He doesn't seem to notice the way you've followed the boy with your eyes so intently, only having his attention caught by the stuttered noise you'd made as he leans over to close the doors again, and you nod distractedly. The thought from before is gone, mind empty once more without the visual of his face to look upon for familiarity, and you feel almost numb once again as the doors open on your floor and Jimin regathers the bags he'd set down and lifts them with a small grunt.

The two of you file out of the elevator in silence, footfalls echoing off the walls as you approach your apartment, and Jimin lags behind you in order to leave you space to unlock the door, and you struggle for a few moments to balance the bags in one hand. You're about to set them down with a cuss of frustration when the door of the apartment beside yours with a chime and Taehyung steps out.

You don't exactly know why you pause, perhaps just the habit of greeting him each time you pass, but you inadvertently wait for him to turn and finally notice you before you speak.

"Hey, Tae." A wide smile automatically spreads across his lips, and he steps closer to you quickly and moves to pull the shopping bags out of your hands. You fluster for a moment, holding onto the handles tightly before conceding and letting him hold them, and for a few seconds you stand there blankly before remembering yourself and turning to look back at Jimin as your hand fishes the key card out of your purse.

Dark. His eyes are glaring daggers into Taehyung even as the other boy fails to notice him right away, and the movement of your head pulls his attention just in time as Taehyung finally glances up and instantly stiffens. "Hey, how are yo–Oh."

"Hello." Jimin thankfully relaxes his face into a more neutral expression, but you know him too well to not catch the tick of his jaw and the strain in his neck as he automatically stretches his shoulders out and straightens his spine in an attempt to make himself seem bigger.

"Hi." Taehyung is no better, lifting his chin and looking down his nose to emphasise how much taller he is than Jimin. And though it's only a few inches, you can see the way Jimin's nostrils flare in retaliation, eyes flashing, and you look between the two for a few silent moments with your hand hovering in mid air.

"Uh..." The two take absolutely no notice of your head turning back and forth to look between them and you finally end up swiping your key card with a sigh, letting the chime of your security system break the tension. One last glance back as you cross the threshold into your apartment at the two has you watching the standoff as they vie for the position of last to enter the apartment, and you roll your eyes as neither of them move an inch.

Something seems to finally break the air, perhaps the silent, worried frustration rolling off you in waves, and Taehyung turns to return your gaze as he comes to his senses and steps into your apartment. Jimin watches him carefully as he crosses the room and sets your groceries onto the kitchen island, following him inside a few seconds later with his gaze hard and calculating.

"So..." You can't seem to think of anything to say, standing stiffly at your kitchen counter as Taehyung and Jimin continue to glance at each other in tandem, and after watching them awkwardly, you grasp at frayed strings in an attempt to break the heavy mood settling over your apartment.

You've dealt with enough drama lately, and you'd really rather not have this add onto your ever growing mountain of stress.

"What are you getting up to today?" Taehyung turns to look at you, blinking slowly as he doesn't seem to fully realise you're talking to him, before jerking slightly and stammering for a response.

"Uh, just about to head off to work, actually." You then realise the uniform shirt under his dark suede jacket, and as you nod with a quiet 'ah' of realisation, his eyes flicker between you and Jimin once more. "What have...you guys been up to. You're not at work like normal?"

"Oh, I've...had a few days off, ha. Just been...relaxing, and stuff." Taehyung's eyebrows almost disappear under the hair covering his forehead, and you barely seem to hide your cringe as he chuckles in surprise.

"You've got to be one of the most consistently working people I've ever met. Never heard of you taking time off work before." He chances a glance at Jimin, and you follow him to see Jimin still standing stoic at the end of the breakfast bar, only looking back at your neighbour when he speaks again. "Is everything...okay? I know sometimes you've mentioned things getting a bit too rough, has that happened again? Are you having those nightmares again?"

"Oh, I–" You look back at Jimin in shock at Taehyung's words, surprised at the fact he'd remembered something you'd only have mentioned in passing, and you chew on your lower lip as Jimin's chin drops to have him aggressively shoot laser beams at the bag in front of him, jaw clenched. "No. No, I've been okay."

"Are you sure? You've been really quiet the past few days, and don't think I don't notice the bags under your eyes. You really do look tired, _____." He frowns, head tilting to the side as he leans slightly towards you over the breakfast bar, and though he's a good almost two metres away, it's habit that has you leaning away a little. "Does the fact you're not going to work have anything to do with the undercover police your friend here has downstairs?"

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. "Taehyung–"

"That's a matter well out of your jurisdiction." Jimin's tone almost has shivers running up your spine. It's a bass monotone that slides over your skin like thorns on a flowerless rose bush, prickling at every pore until your flesh is crawling with invisible bugs, regardless of the fact you're not technically on the receiving end. "I can assure you, this matter is of no importance to the likes of you."

Taehyung's own eyes flare with a spark that you've never seen before, and to watch as the usually brightly smiling boy's gaze turns into that akin of a snake preparing to strike, your body starts to grow cold.

"I live in this building too." He looks down his nose at Jimin again, and you can see Jimin's fist ball up under the cover of the counter where Taehyung cannot see. "I don't think it is up to you to decide what is, and what is not my business in regards to my home, and my friend."

"I–" The two boys blatantly ignore you, and you step forward slightly.

"I have a badge in my pocket that I'm fairly sure gives me every right to deem what is and isn't your business in regards to events that involve law enforcement." Jimin's had shifts to touch said pocket gently, and it's then you notice the holster on his hip and the shining handcuffs tucked in beside his firearm. "And if you forget that I'm happy to remind you."

"Oh, I don't doubt that." Your eyes flicker back to watch Taehyung as he leans back again, crossing his arms and pushing his shoulders back to emphasise how broad he is, and for a few short moments you half expect the two men to rip off their shirts and start wrestling like a pair of gorillas. "I've heard enough about you to know how important your badge is–"

"Okay!" You finally crack, no longer comfortable being a bystander in your own kitchen as the two become more intent on working the other up, and then they finally turn to look at you. Their eyes are still echoing the thunderous moods lying within, and you feel unsteady on your feet as you attempt to find a common ground in order to alleviate the situation. Or rather, a common ground between the two men who seem to be waiting for your decision on who should stay and who should go.

Jimin watches you carefully, eyes flickering between you and the other male as the heat within his eyes starts to diminish and an almost worried, apologetic expression starts to form on his face. And though you know there is every reason to be just as frustrated at his attitude as you are at Taehyungs, the idea of watching him walk out of your apartment has you aching in your chest. "I think it's time I unpack this food and Tae...I'd hate for you to be late to work, I think you should...go."

He blinks at you for a few seconds, eyes growing cold as he almost waits for you to turn and address the male opposite him, but at the following silence he seems to understand Jimin is the one you're inviting to stay, and his crooked smile turns bittersweet.

"You're right, I should go." Your teeth find your bottom lip as he trades one ore glare with Jimin before quickly turning on his heel and marching towards your door faster than you can catch up with, and you find you almost have to jog to beat the door clicking shut again as he slips through it smoothly.

"H-Have a good night at work-–oh!" You call to him as you catch the door and peek out of the gap, almost jerking back with a gasp as you come face to face with him quite suddenly. He's come to a short stop just outside the threshold of your apartment, and you're only centimetres from having run into him.

Silently, he turns and looks down at you, eyes wistful as he glances back behind you into your apartment and then back again, and the tension that lingers cold in the air is a clear sign Jimin is unmoving, watching the two of you very closely. Wordlessly, Taehyung lifts a hand into the air, letting it hover between you as he seems to consider very carefully his own actions, before dropping it back to his side with a sigh, and you feel your brows draw together in a frown, heart strings tugging at the sadness in his eyes.

You never meant for this to happen, never wanted to be put into this situation where you'd have to choose between them s irrevocably. But the world has a very cruel way of bringing you back down to earth right when you think you're getting lucky.

"See you around, _____." He takes a step, just out of Jimin's line of sight, but keeps his eyes on you for another painful moment. But then he's turning again, and before you know it he's down the hall and disappearing into the elevator, gone in mere seconds.

When you finally close the door and turn back to face Jimin, he's already rustling amongst the various bags covering the counter, pulling the items free and placing them neatly on the bench for you to sort and put away, and you almost feel numb as you cross the space between you and start to gather the cold foods into your hands. A few minutes pass this way, you sorting the foodstuffs between the fridge and the pantry, walking back and forth the space as Jimin finishes emptying bags, and when he's finally done he leans against the counter with a sigh and turns to watch you.

"I'm sorry." You blink at him in surprise, almost dropping the packet of sugar in your hands as you watch him frown down at his feet before pushing off the counter to approach you. "That was unnecessary and...immature. There was no reason to treat your friend that way."

"Jimin..." You sigh, lifting the packet up and putting it on one of the higher shelves before letting the pantry door close with a muted thud. "It doesn't matter now. Besides..." you turn to him, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the wood, "you didn't do it on your own."

He's quiet for a few moments, watching you as you frown a little harder with your eyes on the front door before you finally look at him. And when he speaks again his tone is a lot lower, an unspoken emotion that you can't quite pick colouring it in a way that makes him sounds almost a little sad. "He likes you."

"Does he?" There's no real question in your voice, far closer to a statement, and it makes Jimin wince.

"It's selfish of me to act upon jealousy that I have no right to exercise." You feel a twinge of heartache at his words, unsure of what exactly he's trying to imply, and you can feel it reflected in your expression. "He could make you happy."

"Jimin–" You're reaching out to him, hand catching his as you step into his space, chest tight with the need to hold him, reassure him and keep him close.

But you don't get close enough before he jerks back and pulls away from you, hand torn from yours as he turns to seek the phone on the counter that has started to ring obnoxiously loud, and he answers the call with a few taps on the screen, background noise filling the air as he switches it to loudspeaker.

"This is Park."

"Jimin." You've come to recognise the sound of Detective Jung's voice easily, and the breathless way he calls his name instantly has you on edge. "There's been another find. Two this time, fucked up real bad compared to the others. But the sick fuck seems to be getting sloppy, there's a bit more cctv in this building and the surrounds. I'm organising that to be reviewed for any clues now."

"You're on loudspeaker. Where?" Jimin doesn't look at you as you instantly draw closer, furrowed eyes set on his phone as he picks up the device and awaits his partners information, but he does lift on hand to place on your arm, keeping you at a distance as well as maintaining gentle contact in order to keep you calm.

"Three blocks out." Three blocks? From where? Your blood runs cold through your veins, and you stiffen instantly.

You open your mouth to question him, but Jimin beats you to the punch, fingers twitching on your arm as he fights the urge to pull you closer at your physical shudder of fear.

"You're on scene?" His jaw ticks as he pats his pockets, checking his belongings, and you start to grow nervous at the realisation he's preparing to leave you already upon his partners affirmation. "I can be there in five."

"That's not all." Your eyes are wide as you set them back on the phone, and Jimin freezes in place as he awaits the next few words just as tensely as you. "He's left us a message this time. Real loud and clear."

"What is it?" You speak up this time, and it takes Hoseok a few seconds to reply, more than likely unsure if he should respond to you, but when Jimin calls his name as consent for him to tell you, he gives a sigh that comes through painfully loud in the speaker.

"Blood. On the walls. Says..." He pauses, a rustle and a few footsteps breaking the silence as he seems to move about before coming to a pause. "Says, you're next, 'Min. He wants you to leave her alone, or he'll 'take matters into his own hands'."

"Not if I take them into my own first." Jimin quickly turns furious, eyes alight with it when he sets them on you, and within seconds he's ripped the phone off the counter and pulled it up to his ear. "See you in five."

"J'min–" He hangs up the call and quickly pulls you close, no sign of his earlier guilt over his selfishness as he takes a hold of your face and presses his lips tightly to yours.

You don't realise how quickly you're breathing, gasping in panic as the familiar terror starts to set in again, but your lungs quickly start to burn as he takes away your source of air with a searing kiss. He doesn't move his lips, doesn't try to deepen it nor does he let you do so. Jimin merely holds his plush lips to yours until you're both red in the cheeks and gasping for air when he pulls away, and he rests his forehead against yours while you clutch at his shoulders to keep him close.

"Nothing he will ever do or say will keep me away from you, do you understand me?" You're blubbering, eyes starting to bud with moisture and throat thick with emotion as you let your eyes fall closed. "I don't care what length's he goes to. He's never going to keep you away from me, baby."

"You're gonna g-get hurt, J'min." You're sagging against him, body weight pulling him down as you try to keep him close just a little longer, but as you grow a little too weak in the knees, he reaches down and hooks an arm under your legs, pulling you up and into his arms before crossing the room and setting you down on the lounge gently. "P-Please, I don't–I can't let you get hurt because of me."

"Don't you dare ask that of me." He cups your face with both hands as you try to turn and bury your wet cheeks into the pillow beside you, and you blink up at him slowly, vision still blurry with tears regardless of how much are falling from your chin. "Don't you dare."

It's your forehead his lips find this time, brushing against the skin before pressing once, twice, three times, and then he rests his head onto yours and holds you tight as you shake against him.

"I have to go." The pain is clear in his eyes as your sobs grow even louder, echoing in the silence of your apartment without the tv or pillow to muffle it, but you know that he's right. And so you pull yourself together a little, dialling your cries down into sniffles as he caresses your cheeks one last time before standing from the couch and leaning down one last time to press a kiss to the crown of your head. "I'll come back in a few hours okay? I'll come back to you baby, it'll all be okay."

At your nod, he finally makes his way from your apartment, sadness in his gaze as he looks over your puffy eyes and pink cheeks one last time before disappearing through the door with the chime of the security system activating. And you find yourself so numb with the fear that you could truly never see him again, that you're unable to move from the spot you've curled up in, and within the hour your fear has drained you of all energy, and your eyes grow too heavy to keep open as the sun quickly sets.

You awaken with a jerk however, into the pitch black darkness of your apartment. The blinds had still been closed that afternoon, stopping the beaming bright afternoon sun, and leaving your living room darker than midnight as the lights of the city were completely blocked out. It takes you a few seconds to realise what it was that had ripped you from sleep, the silence keeping you confused as you numbly wonder if you'd been having a nightmare, but then you hear it again, the chime of your front door as the wood clicks closed, and your security system re-activates.

Warm grows in your chest at Jimin's return, and you stretch out your legs from where they'd been tucked up close to your body as you await the call of your name or perhaps the familiar clicking of his shoes as he crosses your entryway to return to where he'd left you.

But like the night shadows drown the sun's light, the warmth quickly freezes over into chilling terror as a dark silhouette moves across the room silently, not a sound following his gentle footsteps as he passes you between you and the only light in the room. The blue glow of the charger dock sitting on the table against the far wall casting an eerie glow over his form, and just as terrifyingly outlining the fact that his height is a good head taller, and his shoulders are a decent few inches wider than they should be.

And as he makes his way far to confidently towards the hallway leading to your room, and that eerie blue light glints off a large silver shape in his hand, you come to the tearful conclusion that you're right.

Jimin did not just enter your apartment.

And you have no idea who did.

[anonwriter27]

Trust in Me Ch7

She could hear the waves crashing upon the stones below their house, the fresh smell of sea air touched her nose. Y/N was a little girl sat in her bed. The lights were dimmed, and the room was warm, Y/N looked around at her soft toys: one a grey wolf from her uncle Tony, one a raven from her father’s younger brother, Regin. They sat at the bottom of her bed, guarding her as she slept. Y/N felt the warmth of her mother as they sat together on the little girl’s bed.

 “…and so the young maiden said goodnight to her ghosts, and danced back to her chambers to await another day.” Lia said, concluding the bedtime story.

 “Goodnight sweet girl.” Lia got up and went to switch out the light.

 “But mama…” Y/N spoke.

 Lia sighed but gave a knowing smirk, “Y/N you promised one more story and you’d go to sleep.”

 “But I have questions.” Y/N said timidly.

 Lia perched onto the end of her daughter’s bed, “Don’t you always. I will answer one, and then you must go to sleep.”

 Y/N pulled down her duvet so she could sit up and talk, “Why is the young woman not afraid of the ghosts?”

 Lia smiled, “There is nothing frightening about ghost’s sweet girl, they were people just like you and me. They have histories, families, homes, they should be allowed to visit every once in a while.”

 Y/N smiled, “It’s nice that they visit.”

 All of a sudden, the room went dark and Y/N was no longer a little girl, “I miss you.”

 Lia smiled sadly at her daughter, as she opened her mouth to speak, Y/N woke up.

 Y/N opened her eyes slowly, a single tear escaping when she realised it was only a memory. She didn’t move for a while, she tried to fix her eyes shut again in hopes she could return to her dream, but the tears stung too much to keep them closed for long.

 Y/N didn’t have nightmares, not really. Occasionally she would remember the bloodshed on the steps leading up to her home, or the gaping wound in her father’s side as they laid him to rest on the bed; but they were not the memories that haunted her. No, her dreams always consisted of warm and loving memories, and in a way they hurt more. She would spend mere minutes reliving moments of bliss, then awaken to a world she feared. She was not ungrateful by any means, she loved her uncle and all he had done for her; she just found it hard sometimes, to acknowledge that she will never go back to the life she once lived.

 Y/N looked to her nightstand where her clock read 3:12am. She looked around her room, spotting her grey wolf, and fluffy raven sat on the bookshelf across the room, still watching over her after all these years. She removed herself from the warmth of her blankets, snuck her feet into her fuzzy slippers and made her way quietly out of her room.

 She made one cup of tea and one cup of coffee on her way to the lab on the first floor. She followed the sound of drilling and metal clanging, knowing it would lead her to her chosen destination.

 And there she found him, Uncle Tony. He removed his safety goggles and gloves taking the coffee she handed him.

 “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, she shook her head in response.

 “Me neither. Pepper thinks it’s my excessive caffeine intake.” He said, imitating Pepper’s voice.

 “Not the nightmares?” Y/N inquired shyly.

 Tony looked up at her with a tired smile, “Always the nightmares.” He admitted.

 Y/N nodded, “Need some help?”

 Tony chuckled, “Sure, you can do the paperwork, you know I hate that part.”

 They worked together, making idle conversation as they did so.

 “So…Vision tells me Loki is settling in.” Tony said, he had been itching to bring up the topic of Loki but didn’t want to overwhelm her.

 “He seems to be.” Y/N replied, not lifting her gaze from the charts in her hands.

 Tony nodded, “Good…good…and you’re getting along with him…?”

 Y/N decided to cut to the chase, “Subtlety is not your strong suit uncle, what is it you would like to say?” she said with a grin.

 “Don’t look at me like that, I just want to make sure you’re being careful. He has a track record; we can’t just trust the guy because Thor’s given him a thumbs up. For all we know he could be pretending to be calm and collected, and when we least expect it, he’ll…” Tony was working himself up to a rant.

 Y/N placed her hand over his, “Uncle Tony, please don’t worry. I’m okay.”

 Tony seemed soothed and decided to say no more in the subject. They kept working till dawn; when the sun came up Tony looked over to his niece. She had fallen asleep on a stack of papers, pen held loosely in her hand. He draped his fleece over her and let her sleep.

   The avengers assembled for their monthly meeting in the conference room on the second floor. Sam was teasing Bucky about not understanding the order sizes at Starbucks.

 “Surely just asking for a large will do!” Bucky said, clearly irritated.

 “Man, large can range from a grande to a venti, you’ve got to be specific.” Sam teased.

 Bucky rolled his eyes.

 Nat and Steve listened to Bruce explain a new theory, Steve nodded to mask his confusion on the subject.

 Meanwhile, Clint moved over to Wanda and Vision’s side of the room when he saw Thor and Loki enter.

 Last to arrive were the Stark clan, Pepper by Tony’s side and Y/N and Peter behind them.

 Loki was surprised to see Y/N at the meeting. Since their library trip a couple days prior, he hadn’t seen much of her. He assumed his brother had something to do with it, perhaps she worried Loki regarded her in the same way now.

 “Shall we begin the meeting?” Steve spoke up, gathering the attention of the room.

 “Not so fast capsicle.” Tony interrupted, earning an eye roll from the captain. “I want everyone to drop what they’re doing tonight, we have plans.”

 Half the room sighed while the other groaned.

 “Tony, I don’t want to go to another party, I still have a headache from the last one.” Clint complained, rubbing his forehead.

 “And if memory serves me right, last time you fell onto the piano in all your Iron Man glory, causing it to fall through the floor.” Nat pointed out, “You sure you’re ready for that again?”

 “It’s not a party, so kindly pause your whining. It’s a movie night.” Tony explained, “Pizza and Netflix, who’s in?”

 Everyone agreed, due to a mixture of wanting a cosy night in and relief they wouldn’t have to smell tequila around the tower for the next week.

 Loki sat quietly, observing the band of heroes; they were in the midst of discussing which movie to watch, Peter voting for Harry Potter, Sam rooting for Die Hard.

 Loki scanned all their faces, noting the happy and tranquil moment they were sharing; that is, until his eyes landed on Y/N. She didn’t look upset or distressed, she just seemed very focused. Loki could practically feel her overthinking from across the table.

 He then noticed Pepper smile down at the young woman and hold her hand under the table. The action seemed to bring Y/N out of the thought she was currently having; she took a deep breath and began to listen to the debate going on.

 Despite Loki noticing her discomfort, no one else in the room had picked up on it. The second Pepper had noticed, Y/N shook herself out of her reverie. This was another piece in the puzzle, she didn’t want others to worry for her. ‘Is that why she didn’t leave the tower?’ Loki wondered.

 The team finally agreed on a movie and went their separate ways. Loki would have to let her know he did not agree with his brother.

    Y/N sat in her room reading Wuthering Heights for seemingly the hundredth time, but her mind kept drifting to Loki. She was sure Thor must have told him by now, what would he think of her?

 Y/N recalled the day Thor had worked out who her family was. His carefree posture and charming smile altered quickly, his lips forming a thin line and his posture stiffening. He was never outwardly rude to her, nor did he ignore her when she entered the room; but he certainly didn’t welcome her or encourage the idea of friendship between them. It was something that had irked Tony.

 She hated the idea that Loki may look at her the same way. She liked being around Loki, she felt calm with him and that was rare for her.

 The alarm on her phone distracted her from her thoughts. 7pm it flashed, movie time.

 Y/N got up and threw on a hoodie, slipping on a pair of fuzzy socks and made her way out of her room.

 She walked to the elevator which took her to the top floor of the tower where the cinema room was. The avenger’s cinema was huge and rivalled any Imax in the city; it took up the entire floor and had a popcorn station on standby, safe to say it was Peter’s favourite room.

 The elevator doors pinged, and Y/N walked down the long corridor leading to the big screen. She stood to the side of the hallway, safely hidden in a little nook just off the right side of the doorway. She could see almost everyone handing out pizza boxes and laughing at something Wanda had said.

 It was time for Y/N to do her little ritual.

 Although she was reasonably comfortable with each avenger by now, big gatherings still intimidated her. She believed it had something to do with not knowing what each person was doing at any given time. Tony said she got that from her father.

 So, before big gatherings like this, she would count and with each number she would name an avenger she could talk to if uncomfortable. There wasn’t an exact science to it, but it seemed to help.

 “One, Tony.” She whispered, “Two, Pepper. Three, Peter. Four, Vision. Five, Bucky. Six…”

 “Ranking your favourites?” She heard from behind her.

 She jumped with a strangled yelp and turned.

 “Loki, you startled me.” She said, catching her breath.

 Loki smiled, “My apologies. Why are you hiding…and counting?” he asked.

 Y/N blushed furiously, “It just helps…organising things…helps….” She muttered.

 Loki nodded in understanding, “With the crowds?”

 She nodded.

 “Perhaps I should give it a try.” Loki said, earning a shy smile from Y/N.

 They stood there a little while in silence, “You’re not going in?” Y/N asked, though her eyes still didn’t meet his.

 “I haven’t seen much of you these past few days.” Loki said, ignoring her question. “Have you been avoiding me?”

 “No!” Y/N said a little too quickly, causing Loki to smile at her honesty. “I just thought you might be busy with your brother; I didn’t think you’d want me to bother you…”

 “Because you’re a Tatum.” Loki said matter of factly.

 Y/N paused, she looked up at him, scanning his face for any obvious signs of anger or annoyance. Surprisingly she found no judgement in his features.

 She bowed her head, “I’m sorry.”

 Loki grew sympathetic and grew angrier at his brother. “You needn’t apologise for being born.” He spoke with a chuckle.

 Y/N was surprised by his reaction, “I thought you would have shared Thor’s opinion…”

 Loki shook his head, “If we all based our opinions on what other’s think, we wouldn’t get very far, would we my dear?”

 Y/N didn’t really know what to think of his relaxed manner and lack of judgement, but she was certainly grateful for it.

 She gave Loki that winning smile, the one he always felt honoured for having earnt.

 “Now for the matter at hand. Shall we join the others for ‘movie night’?” Loki asked, causing Y/N to giggle at the way he said movie night.

 She nodded, “Okay, would you like to sit with me and Peter? His reactions to the movie are usually more entertaining than the actual movie.”

 Loki chuckled, “How could I say no to that.”

 They walked in together and made their way over to Peter who had already saved them two seats beside him.

 To everyone’s surprise Thor walked over to the little group with a large bag of popcorn at hand and sat in the seat to Loki’s left.

 Thor turned to his brother and Y/N and cleared his throat, gathering their attention. “Would you like some popcorn Y/N?” He asked, a little meekly, or as meekly as a God can.

 Y/N was shocked at first but didn’t want to waste the opportunity to make good with the God of thunder.

 She nodded, “Thank you.” She said sweetly, taking a few pieces of popcorn in her hand.

 The lights slowly dimmed till the room was dark and the movie began to play on the big screen. It would appear Peter had won the debate as the famous Warner Brothers logo appeared before them.

 Thor didn’t have to look at his brother to know he was grinning. “Stop it.” He whispered to Loki.

 Loki chuckled quietly, “Well done…brother.” Loki whispered back.

 Thor smiled.

[ussjellyfish]

fic: Work-Life Balance pt 3 | AoS | Philinda | mature

(this chapter is still barely teen, mature things next chapter)

Melinda and Phil attend a fancy fundraiser, which has dancing, which isn't that terrible. They also get to see Mack and Yo-yo.

Many thanks to @plechka for your help with DC stuff.

read on Ao3

Espionage 218 - the Dance Elective

He makes her breakfast, which involves running out for bagels, but she sleeps in, contented and calm. She slept better in Tahiti than he's ever seen her to, so maybe it's just being free from the encroaching danger. Nothing's coming to get them. There's no giant conspiracy out there waiting to destroy the world, just classes and field reports, seminars and exams. 

Mack, Director Mack, said he can do some recruitment, when he's up for it. Phil's read the file a few times. Part-time, very flexible, based at the Hub which is right near the Academy. Very short drive, shorter still in Lola. Sounds ideal if he wants to stay involved. There are plenty of things to do at the Academy too. May has a full course load, plus extra fitness training classes, and she's mentoring the newest crop of SOs in the field. Just looking at her calendar is headache worthy. No wonder she doesn't have anything in her fridge. 

That morning Phil lets her eat her bagel in the car on the way into campus, even though usually eating in Lola is strictly forbidden. He didn't have the heart to wake her, especially when she'd shut off her own alarm three times. Must be making up for years of lost sleep, or teaching exhausts her in a way flying the Bus and saving the world did not.  

After he drops her off, he spends the morning in kitchen stores, and then buying his own clothes. He has one bag, and a handful of old stuff in storage in Wisconsin, but he keeps dying and leaving the planet and getting his suits blown up. It's frustrating because he had some nice suits, some books that had that great old book smell. 

May emails him the invite to the Congressional Security Committee fundraiser that she has to attend tonight, because she's one of the most respected professors at the Academy. Also, she's gorgeous, and Mack likes how much that distracts people.

It'll be a long night of mediocre drinks, passable hors d'oeuvres and terrible conversation. The dancing might be all right. Maybe he can sneak May off to look at some of the art because he's always liked the National Potrait Gallery, and the courtyard's really something to see. She'll fit right in at an art museum. 

He has to use SHIELD resources to get good black tie at the last minute, but he knows a guy who's pretty quick and he just has to look good enough to be with May. She probably has some absolutely stunning dress and he keeps losing his train of thought as he's buying spices, imagining how she'll look. He's far enough away that she can't feel his particular emotions right this moment, hopefully. Didn't ask what the range was, and it seems like it's different with him. 

Mack got them dinner reservations, and it's not really double date, but it's Mack, Yo-yo, Melinda and him, which is basically the double date set up. Maybe it is. Maybe it's just really good friends with a lot of history. Getting to see them again is wonderful, but he's a little nervous. 

Putting pots and pans away as he rearranges Melinda's kitchen helps him think. She has whole cabinets that just sit empty until he adds measuring cups, mixing bowls, and a coffee maker. One of the perks of never being able to be out in public is that he has years of salary just sitting in his bank account. Melinda doesn't need a stand mixer, but he does. 

Because he's moving in. Well, moved in to be fair. His new toothbrush sits right next to hers and there's plenty of closet space when he has clothes. He's just got the utensils right by the stove when Melinda texts. The day has flown by; it's already four, her last class just ended. 

She's running late, students need help. They're supposed to be at the restaurant at five thirty which doesn't give her much time to get ready. He gets dressed in his tuxedo, smirking at the cufflinks. He loves when he gets to wear them because they're such a classy, old school kind of touch. He throws his tie around his neck, but doesn't tie it yet. Melinda does it better. 

He grabs her dress, makeup, jewelry, hairpins, hairspray- collecting the arsenal it'll take to get her ready for black tie. Not that she needs it. She could go in a t-shirt, but this is a fancy politician charming thing. Carrying her dress in a garment bag and the rest of her things in a duffel, he parks Lola outside her office and heads in. 

There are still students in the hall, most of them dressed as waiters and it clicks. They're going undercover. Melinda's sending some her students undercover to the fundraiser for practice. Smart. They'll be catering a lot in the field. No one really pays attention to the hands serving the food. 

They talk between themselves, but part when he arrives. Melinda's all the way down the hall, at the heart of their group, explaining how to swap champagne flutes in order to get fingerprints and DNA. 

"Professor May, your husband's here," one of the cadets calls down the hall. 

"That's right, dear," he says, beaming. Might as well roll wih it. "I think I have everything."

"Great, I'm sorry, we got carried away, okay, I'll see you tonight, remember, when you're undercover, you're invisible, so don't impress anyone, not Director Mack, and definitely not me."

They laugh and Phil has to smile. She's pretty hard to impress. He sets her dress on the desk and pulls the blinds while the students leave them. Melinda pulls off her blazer and starts unbuttoning her shirt. 

"How much time do we have?"

"Slightly less than half an hour, which is plenty, you're already beautiful."

"Not black tie beautiful."

She sighs, dropping her bra to the desk and he has to swallow. He will never get over how beautiful she is, and it's been a terrifying constant in his life for decades. 

"Let me help you with the dress." He gently removes the black and gold dress from the garment bag. He shakes it out, opening the clasps while she changes her underwear and pulls on her stockings. 

"Okay, let me get this over your head." The complicated straps cross high on her chest and leaves her back bare. He whistles as it slips into place. "I think this is better than the sequins."

"Oh?" She starts pinning up her hair, smiling. "It's more comfortable."

"Your breasts make the dress look great."

Melinda laughs. "I thought you'd like it." 

He sits on her desk, handing her pins as she puts her hair up. He holds up a handful and looks over the pictures on her desk. "These are nice, Daisy, FitzSimmons and Alya, don't know if that's the best picture of me."

"I've always liked that one." She titls her head towards the hairspray and he hands it over. 

"I look too stern."

"You are stern."

"Me?" He takes the hairspray and hands her the eyeliner, holding it while she yawns into her hand.  "Couldn't fit a nap in, huh?"

"I slept at lunch."

"Good plan, these things always go so late." 

Melinda sighs, shaking her head. "I know." 

"Lipstick,"

"Give me that first." He looks, following her hand. A abandoned mug of coffee sits on her desk. 

"You hate coffee."

"It's vile, but it keeps me awake."

"Well, it's definitely worse cold and without anything in it."

"Just hand it to me, Phil." She shuts her eyes and swallows it, grimacing. He's seen children make that face when they've been told to eat brussel sprouts. 

"You hate it."

"I hate falling asleep at dinner more."

He touches her shoulder. "This is hard. You're carrying a lot. Don't push yourself beyond your limits."

"Tomorrow's an easy day, no lectures, just seminar, and it's in the afternoon."

"I'll make waffles."

"And no coffee."

"None, for you." 

She laughs, finishing her lipstick. "What earrings did you bring?"

"These matched the best."

"I would have gone with the gold."

"The dress is more bronze."

"Oh I see."

"These bring out your eyes more."

"Yes, that's what you've been looking at. My eyes." She toys with his hand, smiling. 

"Exactly." He rests his gaze on the exquisite display of her breasts, then looks up, 

She leans in, kissing him lightly. "You still can't tie these."

"I have you." 

The next kiss is a little deeper, hungrier, and they don't have time. Mack and Yo-yo will be at the restaurant in a few minutes ad they're already pushing it, even with Lola. Flying through DC isn't exactly subtle. The cloaking will help but--

Melinda finishes tying his bow tie and pats his chest. "Shoes."

He sets them up and she steps into her impossibly high heels, holding on his shoulder. 

"Ready?"

She takes another moment, taking a breath. "I still don't understand how you drink that every day."

"It grows on you."

"Like a tumor." 

He rests his hand on her bare back, chuckling. "Exactly, a delicious, caffeinated tumor." 

 Mack and Yo-yo are waiting for them at the table, already laughing over their drinks.

"Sorry, parking is terrible." 

"Our quinjet is on the roof," Yo-yo says, getting up to hug Melinda. "You look amazing."

"Doesn't she?" 

"You don't look too bad yourself," Mack says, getting up to shake his hand. They stare, take hands and then hug. He didn't think he'd see Mack again, or Yo-yo or...anyone, and here they are. Mack pats Melinda's shoulder and Yo-yo pulls out her chair. 

"Sit, eat, we don't have that much time before we have to talk to the boring people." 

"Thanks, sorry--"

"She had cadets swarming her office."

"All ready for tonight?"

"They're some of my best, about half of the catering team are future agents. Tell me how many before the night's over and I'll buy dinner next time." 

Mack lifts his glass, grinning. "Oh you're on."

Yo-yo leans forward, elegant in a dark blue dress, with her hair down in waves. Mack's pocket square complements her dress and they look fantastic together. The way they talk, laughing, filling in each other's stories, they're happy. It's good to see. This time has been good for them. 

The food arrives a few minutes later, concerned for time, Mack and Yo-yo ordered, and it smells incredible. Melinda yawns into her hand again and flags down the server for tea instead of wine. 

"They might have coffee."

"Oh no, one is my limit." 

"You had coffee?" Yo-yo asks over her naan bread. "The Academy's that bad, huh?" 

"It's disgusting but it keeps me awake." 

"I'm gone for a little while and look how things change." It's a poor joke but Melinda's little smile has forgiveness in it. 

"It felt a little long." She reaches across, squeezing his hand. 

"It's nice to have you back." Mack digs into the chicken. "This is incredible."

Melinda sets down her fork and reaches for her tea. "It's hard to get reservations here, but my mom likes it."

"Do they do take out?" Phil passes her one of the sauces and she gives him that look. "May's a connoisseur of take out." 

"Very funny."

"Do they? This is near the Hub, I'd love this for lunch."

"Places like this don't do take out," Yo-yo says, pointing at her napkin. "Real napkins, fancy silverware."

Mack shakes his head, wiping his mouth. "We'll have to find a way to get them to make an exception."

"Use those director perks." Phil jokes, meeting Melinda's gaze. 

"What director perks?' The server hands Mack the check and Yo-yo chuckles.

"There's a perk."

"I asked for this." Mack waves the check at them. "I know how hard it is to live on an academic's salary."

Phil titls his head towards Melinda. "You should see how empty her apartment was, couldn't afford anything in the kitchen."

"I am funny, I'm the director." He hands over a card and they reluctantly leave their seats. 

Phil offers Melinda his hand to get to her feet, touching her bare back as they head for the door. Her skin's warm and smooth under his hand and she allows it to remain there. The clouds overhead are dark and heavy, and the air smells like rain. The gallery's only a quick walk, and it almost feels like old times. Very fancy old times. 

At the door he hands over their IDs from Melinda's purse. Hers is a little worn, and his brand new. Billy did good work on it. They head through security, have their retinas scanned and fingerprints checked. Eventually they end up at another table, and two of Melinda's students bring them drinks. 

She takes a sip, then sets her glass down. "Well, lets get it over with"

"It?"

"You're going to make me dance."

He listens to the orchestra and smirks. "That's a waltz." 

Melinda holds out her hand, reaching for his and smiling. "Do you want to wait for a tango?"

"Are you just using me to avoid Senator Ellis?"

"You caught me." She leans in, brushing her lips agains his ear. "Also, my students are watching."

"So we're making your students uncomfortable?"

"If they're watching us dance, they're not watching other things."

"I'd be watching you."

She glances down at her chest and her smile brightens. "I know what you'e watching."

Dancing with her is easy, comfortable. She'll have to talk to senators and congresspeople,  be charming, talk about the Academy, but for now, and maybe the next dance, he can hold her. 

The next song is a tango and she rolls her eyes, but she remembers the steps. Her muscle memory's always been incredible. She leads him into a dip near some of her students and she's right, they're watching them, not observing the room. 

"How are you going to get them to stop watching us?"

"We'll talk about it in seminar."

"That sounds fun."

"You should come, it's my most interesting class."  Melinda wraps her leg around the back of his and executes another dip. She's so good at it. The bonus for him is that he gets to hold her, tight and close and it's too bad that can't last all night. 

Eventually he has to surrender her to Mack, and a few senators. He gets one song to dance with Yo-yo, who tells him all about her team: Piper and Davis, and her adventures. She finds time for Mack too, and they seem happy.

"She needed you back," Yo-yo says over his shoulder, smiling at Melinda. "She said she was happy, but this is happy."

"What was she before?"

"Busy." Yo-yo twirls out and then back to him. "Really busy."

"She's still busy." 

"But now at least you can cook for her." 

"Yeah."

"Which makes you happy."

"It's such a little thing."

"Not little." Yo-yo walks with him back to the table, reaching for her champagne while Phil scans the crowd for Melinda. "Mack fixes my car when I'm home, worries about my motorcycle, tunes the engine. You cook."

"Melinda's a terrible cook."

"And I never remember when my car needs an oil change. Love brings us people who look after what we can't. May did that for you, for years. Maybe now you switch." 

"Yeah?" He finishes his drink. 

"You love her."

"I do."

"And she's happier now, today, than I've seen her in years, maybe ever." 

Melinda walks towards them, smiling, free of the last lobbyist who wanted something. She walks past one of the caterers, must be a student because she walks straight up to him and kises him like the world is ending thirty seconds from now, or they're being shot at. He nearly stumbles back but it's too wonderful to be pressed against her. 

Yo-yo laughs and leaves them to it. 

"Hi," he whispers, catching his breath. 

"My students are easily distracted."

"They like you."

Melinda rolls her eyes and he loves her so much in this instant. She's supervising all of these cadets, making them better agents, saving the world one showy kiss at a time. "They like my stories."

"May, you're an incredible teacher."

She sighs, shutting her eyes. She kisses his cheek then rests against him, her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Just, thank you." 

He strokes her cheek. "It's good to be back."

"You didn't even know you were gone." Her voice is light but her eyes hold so much more. 

"I see it." He holds her face, staring at her, drinking her in. She's been through so much and she's still here, powerful, beautiful and so resilient. "I'm sorry."

"You always come back."

He laughs and she kisses him again. She pushes him back towards the table, scandalizing the students, maybe part of Congress. She's worth it. 

"I love you," he whispers into her hair, running his hand down her spine. 

 The sky's opened up while they've been in the gallery, and the rain drums on the glass roof. It's late, and the last stragglers at the party are drunk and headed home in a line of cabs. Lola's only a block away but the storm's rolled in hard. Lightning flashes overhead and the heavy humidity's erupting into drenching rain.

"Stay here, I'll bring the car," he offers.

Melinda shakes her head. She reaches down, holding his arm for balance as she takes off her shoes. She sighs, even wavers a little. 

Phil shrugs off his tuxedo jacket, passing it to her. "Here."

"I'm fine."

"So am I."

Melinda rolls her eyes again but takes it, wrapping herself in his coat. 

"There could be broken glass."  

"You want to carry me?"

"I--"

"It's fine, Phil." She offers her arm and together they walk out into the rain. 

The air's still warm and the rain crashes down cool over them. They walk quickly, arm in arm, and it's too loud to talk but thy don't need too. She remembers being a student, when they were cadets together, all the moments that got them to here. They climb into Lola, soaking wet, laughing as the rain patters on the roof. He starts the car and the windows fog as they dry. 

Melinda leans back in her seat, eyes closed. "That was better."

"See, you do like dancing."

"It's all right with you."

He heads through the nearly empty streets, making his way back to her apartment. "And mortifying your students."

"Now that was fun."

"I love your sense of humor." 

"You love a lot of things about me." 

"Your hair. Your breasts. The way you talk in your sleep."

She doesn't, and she can't remind him of that because she is asleep. He pats her knee in her soaking wet dress and drives them home. 

The garage at her apartment is out of the rain and she remains asleep as he shuts off the car. Circling to the passenger side, he bends, straightens his back and lifts her up.

She murmurs, waking a little as they move through the elevator and then the hall. 

"Are you being chivalrous?"

"I was trying to let you sleep."

Melinda slips from his arms, regaining her feet in the hall as he takes out her keys. "That was kind."

"You're doing a lot."

"I know."

"Let me help."

"I am, aren't I?" She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. "I'll let you take the pins out of my hair."

"Okay." He guides her to a chair, pulling the hairpins out of her wet hair while she smiles at him, nearly falling asleep again at the table. He guides th =e dress off her shoulders, then takes her earrings. "Come on. Time for bed." 

He strips off his own wet clothes in the bathroom. Leaving them on the floor before crawling into bed next to her. 

"I love you," she whispers, curling into his chest. "You're warm."

Chuckling, he holds her close. "Glad to be of service."

[calumbringbackthewatermelonshirt]

Hiraeth (C.H.) Part 2

FIND PART 1 HERE

a/n: I think after this I’m probably going to try and update once a week to keep things consistent! please enjoy and lmk what y'all think!! also feel free to send me any questions!

“I believe you owe me something.” You had set your tray at your spot at the usual table. The time had come. Your cravings had taken over. The need for some awful, over sugared coffee was consuming your every thought. Except for the ones about Cal. But coffee. Coffee was something you could have, and soon at that.

“And what would that be?” Classic Ashton. Playing dumb. You were relentless, though. Especially when he had something you so desperately wanted.

“We both know. A ride into town. I’m thinking Dunkin first, then target, then chipotle for a quick bite, then more Dunkin.” You had been ticking off your town to-do list on your fingers as you went, wearing a smile very similar to the Sierra wore when she was up to something.

“As much as I would love to drag your sorry ass around the entire town, I’m busy tonight.” You frowned, knowing that if you didn’t go tonight that you might very well die from withdrawal. That and you’d have to wait another week and a half before your schedules aligned enough again to make the trip.

“Fuck.” You dropped your feet from the table and sighed, running a hand through your hair and screwing up the part in it. It would be fine, you’d manage. You’d run out of toothpaste and eyeliner, but you’d live.

“However, my plans do not involve my car, so I’ve arranged to have someone take you in my place.” You perked up again. Even though you didn’t appreciate being toyed with, you could appreciate the dramatics of it. After all, it was fun when you were on the other side of it.

“Hell yeah! Is it Crystal? She’s cool.” You pumped your fist, practically buzzing with excitement. Even better. You could already picture yourself and Crystal screaming the lyrics to the High School Musical soundtrack together.

“Nope. Hood.” Ashton knew he piqued your interest when he saw your eyebrows shoot up. All a part of Sierra’s plan of course. The elusive Hood, who’s name you still did not know. You’d finally be able to meet the most mysterious man on campus.

“Even better. I get to meet the mysterious ‘Hood.’” You put air quotes around his name. At this point, you weren't even sure he was a real person.

“There is a bit of a hitch. With Hood comes four irresponsible teens.” Ashton winked at you, knowing exactly what he was doing. He had to give Sierra her credit where it was due. This plan was brilliant. Instead of one, Hood would now be operating with four wingmen, each one more bold than the last. Ashton could almost picture the dumbfounded look on Hood’s face when they started to hint at their end goal.

“Fine by me. As long as I get my coffee.” You stood and leaned in closer to Ashton, feeling his breath on your face. It was your hand slipped into his pocket, a twenty finding its way into your sleeve and his keys dangling between your fingers. You dangeled them from your fingers, still grinning at Ashton as you backed away and shot off a text to the members of your group.

….

It took about twenty minutes of scrolling on your phone until you finally heard footsteps and the lively, somewhat loud chatter that surrounded your little group approaching.

Your fingers flying, you shot off one last text and looked up.

Only to be met with a very familiar pair of dark brown eyes.

Elevator guy?

A million questions ricocheted in your brain. What was ele- Cal doing here? With your gaggle of friends?And why was he carrying Luke on his back piggyback style?

You froze, head cocked and eyebrow raised. Cal strongly resembled a deer in headlights at this moment, having missed a step when he noticed it was you leaning against the car. Luke didn’t notice; instead, he took two fistfulls of Cal’s hair, as if trying to control him that way, like Remy and Linguini in Ratatouille.

Michael was the first to catch on to the tension between the two of you. He head swished back and forth a few times, trying to patch together why both of you had reacted to each other like that. It took a second to click. “Wait, do you two know each other?”

“We’ve met. Briefly.” You winked at Cal and slid your phone into the pocket of your jeans, procuring Ashton’s keys in its place. You jingled them before the group for a second before tossing them over to Cal. Kaykay gave her best attempt to snatch them out of the air, but Cal caught them easily over her head, appearing to still be a little bit stunned by your presence.

“Wait a second. You’ve met?” Sierra was screeching. You and Hood were supposed to meet like this, not however you had met before. This couldn’t be right, one misstep could throw off her whole plan, and she had NOT gone to the lengths of planning your wedding only to have it be for nothing.

“Um, yes. Just for a second, though. In the elevator up to the first bell classes.” Hood dropped Luke from his back unceremoniously. Instead, he studied the keys in his hands, looking again like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. You were starting to wonder why he looked like that every time he saw you.

“So you’re the famous ‘Hood’ I’ve been hearing about.” You grinned and pushed yourself off of the car, crossing your arms. You took a few steps toward him. “I was beginning to doubt you even existed.”

Kaykay snorted and stopped messing with Luke's hair for a second. “You two have met. Obviously he existed.”

“No, no. I met Cal. Hood was a rumor.” Kaykay and Sierra turned and gave each other a look. They seemed to be in agreement that maybe the prior meeting wasn’t so bad.

“Alright, alright. Are we going or not?” Hood sighed and stalked around to the driver’s side, getting into the car before anyone of them could even think of saying anything.

You turned and hopped in the passenger’s side. Only to hear five other people shouting at you.

Apparently, getting in the car was cause for rioting these days.

“Hey, why do you get shotgun?” Kaykay was the first one to say something vaguely coherent. She almost never got shotgun, and she had kind of been hoping that today would be her day.

“Yeah, hey, I want shotgun.” Sierra was next, speaking fast. She was right next to the door, tugging on the handle. But before she could make her first pull, Hood clicked the lock button on his side of the car, effectively shutting all the kids out.

“It’s not too late. We can drive off and leave them now.” Cal? Hood? sighed out his words, leaning forward and putting his head on the steering wheel.

“Oh, come on. You know you love them. It’s obvious. Besides, the only way they’re gonna get me out of this seat is if they kill me first.” You turned to the window and stuck out your tongue at the kids staring at you through the window before putting on your seatbelt.

“Have you met Kaykay?” Hood smirked at you, looked out at the murder written on Kaykay’s face, and then back at you. “That might not be as hard as you think.”

“Believe it or not I’m tougher than I look.” You unlocked the car with the button on your side, but flipped the lock on your door back.

The kids piled into the car, grumbling about being shoved into the back.

“Damn. I wanted up front.” Michael climbed in behind Hood, but not before leaning the seat forward to allow the two youngest to clamber into the back.

“Yeah, yeah. We all wanted shotgun.” Kaykay was behind you, picking at her fingernails, disgruntled. “Can I at least have the AUX?”

“No offense, Kay, but no one wants to listen to death metal.” Sierra wrinkled her nose at the idea of having to headbang and messing up her hairstyle. Her space buns may have looked messy and spiky, but that was a carefully curated look that had taken her a while to perfect.

“I wanna listen to Mozart. I find it calming. You know, statistically, babies who have mozart played to them in the womb come out smarter?” Luke was a big fan of classical music, despite his younger age. He found it versatile, great for both studying and falling asleep to.

“Makes sense. I guess your mom must have played you a lot of Mozart when you were little, huh?” You twisted around in your seat and smiled at Luke for a second, who flushed, but still smiled back. “How about we all choose one song to go on a playlist and we can turn that on shuffle?”

All the children shrugged and nodded, so you called names and collected the songs into one playlist on your phone, playing it through the car stereo a bit louder than was necessary.

“That is the fastest they have ever agreed on anything ever.” Hood looked at you out of the side of his eyes before turning his attention back to the road. “And the fastest solution we’ve ever procured for an argument.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a natural leader.”

Most of the songs on the playlist ended up being ones you all knew enough to sing along to, asides from the cello melody (Luke) and the heavy metal music (Kaykay).

It took about half an hour and another song draft to reach Dunkin. By the time you got there you were practically vibrating with excitement. Hood kept glancing at you, a small smile at his lips and mirth in his eyes. Apparently, he took great amusement in your love for mediocre coffee.

Instead of attempting to corral all the kids in and out of the restaurant, Hood figured the drive through would be a more time effective option.

Kaykay demanded to order for herself, despite being on the wrong side of the car and in the back seat. Still, Michael rolled down his window obediently, just sighing and leaning back when she unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed into his lap to talk into the speaker.

You went next. You felt bold for no reason today. That was the only explanation for what you did. Mirroring Kaykay, you too unbuckled, leaning over Hood’s lap to rest your weight on the car door.

“I’ll have six shots of espresso, over ice, with a caramel drizzle, please.” You heard a scoff from inside the car, turning to find Kaykay gaping at you.

“That’s enough caffeine to kill a small horse.” Kaykay was a little amazed, and a lot worried. You didn’t even order milk. That was gonna taste like battery acid.

“Are you okay?” Sierra looked absolutely disgusted at the mere thought of your coffee order. Even though she was more of a tea person, Sierra liked her coffee as sweet as her personality.

“I think it sounds good. Can I have one?” Luke barely got the words out before five simultaneous nos were yelled.

“Luke, honey, I’ve only known you for a couple weeks, but even I can tell that you and coffee would not be a good mix.” You took sympathy on the child, who looked downright embarrassed by his chastisement. “How about a hot chocolate instead?”

Luke seemed to perk up by that idea, and when the car pulled up to the window, you wordlessly handed Hood your debit card.

“I have cash with me. How much was my drink?” Michael was the first to ask. You knew it was coming, the onslaughts of ‘let me pay you backs’ and ‘here's the money for my drinks.’ But that wasn’t gonna happen, at least not today.

“This one’s on me.” It was simple enough, but all the kids still looked suspicious. You rolled your eyes, a little offended that you had to explain being nice. “Think of it as a thank you. You know, for taking pity on me and allowing me into your little group.”

They still all looked like you were about to tell them their dog had died.

“Fine. My parents are loaded, I took the RA job cause I wanted my own room, and the way I communicate love is through gifts. Happy?”  You sighed and slurped down half your coffee in one sip.

“Isn’t it almost freezing outside?” Hood was the first to break the somewhat awkward silence. “Are you sure drinking an iced drink was the best choice?”

You grinned slowly. “It’s time I told you my life motto. If you can’t handle a cold drink during the winter, your bloodline is weak.”

Seeing as you had the only iced drink in the car, this caused a bit of an uproar.

…

“Hey.” Cal had turned down the music in the car. Aside from Kaykay, who had her headphones in, you and Cal were the only two people awake. So when he broke the silence on the ride back to campus, it startled you just a touch.

“Hey yourself.”

“I, um, I had fun today. It was nice to see you again.” You made a mental note about Cal: he reverted to CEO mode when he got nervous. Well, you assumed he was nervous. He wouldn’t make eye contact with you, so you figured you were probably right.

“You, too.” His nervousness was kind of endearing, you thought. Even if it made talking to him a little bit awkward and choppy.

“You know, I’m actually pretty grateful Ashton bailed on me.” Calum’s eyes widened a bit, but you ignored it. You had a feeling if you pointed it out, Cal might do something drastic like bailing from the car while it was still moving.

“Oh?” Hood attempted to keep his expression neutral, but there were all sorts of bells and alarms going off in his head.

“Yeah, it was fun spending time with all of you. Being part of a group like this…” Your tongue darted out of your mouth and wetted your lips. You rolled them together and then drew your bottom lip in between your teeth. They were such a tight knit group, and while all of them were welcoming and kind to you… it was still hard to not feel like an outsider. You didn’t regret it, of course, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that this was a honeymoon phase in your friendship. All good things came to an end. You just hoped it would be later rather than sooner. “It feels like a family.”

“We’ve only known each other for three months.” Cal looked at you out of the side of his eye, skeptical. He was close with his little gang, but family was a bit of a stretch in his opinion. Sure, he spent all his time with them and looked after them, and cared about them, of course. But that didn’t exactly mean they were family.

“Cal, you literally make them bring you their report cards so you can make sure they’re doing okay in all of their classes.” Was he kidding you? It was funny how the man in front of you was able to delude himself in believing that was true.

“I don’t give a damn about their grades.” Hood scoffed. He had his own problems that didn’t include the grades of a bunch of freshmen and sophomores.

“You give so many damns they’re visible from space.” The lies about not caring were probably to keep up his stone cold loner ruse. They were, of course, lies, but you didn’t want to spoil that for him.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Hood was grumbling, but there was a slight chuckle behind it.

…

It was a couple of days before you had the time to speak to Cal again. The older kids used a ‘divide and conquer’ method to keep tabs on the troublemakers of the bunch, which was a lot more difficult than you remembered babysitting to be.

It was in the library. You had been in there for a couple hours at that point, desperate to get in some studying for your test in AP history. That table had been your best friend for a while now, so when Crystal started her shift and came over to chat, it was a welcomed interruption.

“Hey. What are you doing?” She motioned to a chair, sliding it out and taking a seat only after you waved at her that it was okay.

“Just doing some cramming before my history test tomorrow.” You sighed, marking your page in your history book before slamming it shut and sliding down in your seat. “You?”

“Luke asked me to pick some books up for him, despite having not yet finished the ones he’s already checked out.” Crystal made her hands busy flipping through the pages of the books Luke requested. They didn’t seem bad, just… tedious.

“Our own little genius.” You stood, pushing your chair back as you went. “I’m going to grab some paper from the supply closet.”

As soon as she was sure you were gone, Crystal pulled her phone out of her pocket and shot off a quick text to Sierra.

Sierra smirked from her own table at the library, hiding it just in time from Hood. He was ‘helping’ her study for english. Or so he thought.

“What?” Hood looked up from his own calculus homework. “You’re looking at me weird.”

“Nothing. Will you go grab more printer ink from the supply closet? I need to print off my rough draft, but the computer says the cartridge is empty.” Hood grumbled, but he rose and set off in the direction of the supply closet anyways. Sierra grinned at his back. Phase three was a go.

It only took Hood a couple minutes to cross the library to the supply closet. It was mostly empty as he navigated through the bookshelves. He gave a quick wave to Crystal when he saw her, but didn’t stop to chat since she had her headphones in.

The storage closet was small. It barely fit the few racks of supplies that had been stuffed in there, much less a person. Or two people.

Hood. And you.

Hood, once again, felt himself freeze. He really, really had to stop doing that. It had been a few days since he saw you last, and he wasn’t expecting to see you here.

That was when he heard the door click shut behind him.

“Oh, no.” Hood whirled around, pulling on the door as hard as he could. Nothing. Shit. Shit fucking balls. He had just managed to get the two of you locked in here. Together.

“Oh, no?” You sounded a little concerned and a little offended. ‘Oh no’ was never great, but there was raw fear in Cal’s voice.

“Um, I may or may not have just gotten us locked in here.” Hood rolled his lips into his mouth. Not good. He reached for his phone, only to realize that it was still back at the table with Sierra. He didn’t think he would need it. Apparently, he had forgotten to account for the fact that he was very dumb.

“ Oh. Oh, no.” This time it was your turn to panic and pat yourself down, also searching for your phone. You had yours on you, at least, but it wasn’t much help since the battery had died a half an hour ago.

“Yeah. Not good.” Hood exhaled slowly through his mouth, sliding his back down the door til he was sitting on the ground. “Well, at the very least, we know someone will come for us eventually.”

“We do?” You walked over and took a seat next to him, your shoulder brushing his.

“Yeah. I’m here with Sierra. She sent me to get an ink cartridge. It’ll probably only be a few minutes before she comes looking for me.” Hood glanced down at his watch. 7:38. He would guess they’d be out by 8:00. And that was being generous.

“Good to know. Guess it’s just you and me until then.” You sigh and tipped your head back, leaning it against the door.

“I can think of worse company.” Hood watched as you raised your eyebrows, leaving your eyes closed.

“Hmm. Like Luke hopped up on sugar.” You smirked at your own words. Luke was already hard to control.

“Have you ever met Luke on a sugar high?” Hood leveled his eyes at you, and you peaked the one closest to him open.

“No?”

“Then you will never know how true your words are.” Hood chuckled a bit at the memory of Halloween. They let Luke ration out his own candy. That was mistake number one.

“Oh god. I don’t even want to know.” You grinned, but it was a tired one.

“Can I, um, ask you something?” Hood fiddled with his own fingers, more nervous than he had been in a while. And for what? You were just a person. Okay, maybe not just a person. But there still wasn’t a reason for all the knots in his stomach.

“I’m an open book.”

“Why did you only start as a RA a couple weeks into the school year?” It bothered him to not know. He was an RA and still couldn’t figure out a reason after thinking about it for weeks.

“Oh.” That was not what you were expecting him to ask. “Um, I had applied. The old RA left to go to the public school. That’s pretty much it.”

Hood just hummed. He felt like there might be more to that story, but it wasn’t his place to pry.

“My turn.” After you felt Cal’s eyes on you, you sat up and met them. “You got to ask a question. Now it’s my turn.”

You studied Cal’s face for a second before deciding on your question. “What do you think is your biggest flaw?”

Hood chuckled. “This is gonna be ironic, but probably the fact that my sense of humor doesn’t exist.”

“Now that can't be true. We're talking, laughing.” That much was true. You were both smiling.

“Okay. My turn again?” After a quick confirmation nod from you, Hood asked his next curiosity. “What’s your favorite place on Earth?”

“Home.” It was so simple, just that one word. And yet, you sensed that it had somehow struck deep with both of you. You were sure for different reasons, though.

Your next words were forcibly bright, rushed. “My turn. Do you prefer when people call you Hood or Cal?”

“That would depend on the person, I suppose. Everyone calls me Hood, including most of my teachers.” Hood smiled down at you, as if daring you to do what you were both thinking. “Back to me. How about your favorite book?”

“I can’t choose just one. There’s all sorts of great crap out there.” You smirked. “The fact that I called it crap is meaningless. My turn again. Do you believe in ghosts?”

Hood gaped at you. “Really? You can ask me anything you want, knowing full and well that I have to answer with complete honesty, and you chose to ask if I believe in ghosts?”

“Just answer the damn question.”

“Fine. No, I don’t believe in fucking ghosts.” Hood wasn’t 100% confident in his answer. He believed in the possibility of ghosts, perhaps. But not the existence of the ghosts themselves.

“Look, I just asked if you believed in them. I didn’t ask what you thought about their sexual habits.” Hood pushed your shoulder playfully, chuckling again. He had noticed himself doing that kind of a lot around you. It felt...nice.

The frequency of the questions dwindled after that, most of them escaping as yawns through your lips. More than once you found yourself nodding off in the middle of both questions and answers. Hood found great amusement in it. You would scrunch up your nose and sway a bit, wiping at your face and trying to fight your own body. Eventually, you would succumb to sleep, your head just brushing his shoulder. It would rest there for a split second before bouncing right back, snapping you back to consciousness each time. Each time, your head would use his shoulder as a pillow for just a fraction longer, until eventually you didn’t wake back up.

You were just… sleeping. On him. Really, you were snoring a little. It was cute to him. Hood glanced back at his watch. 8:17. It had been over half an hour, and still no rescue. Hood reached behind him and gave the doorknob a little jiggle again. Still nothing. He sighed, not that he was expecting it to magically open. It was worth a shot.

It was five minutes later Hood heard footsteps. He didn’t even have time to turn around to knock before the door swung open. You and Hood fell flat on your backs without the door supporting your weight, waking you up. In Hood’s arms. He had put his arm around you when you fell to make sure you didn’t hit your head, although, now that he was thinking about it, that was a bit weird. You sat up before he could move, pulling him up with you.

“Sierra. Our savior.” You grinned up at her. Cal was already on his feet, offering you a hand to help you up. You took it, barely using any of your own muscles with the strength he used to pull you up. “Well, this has been a pleasure. I’ll see you around, Calum Hood.”

From there, you went back to your table to gather up your things. It was time to get some real sleep. And not on the shoulder of Calum Hood.

…

tags: @rbforsmileycal​ @whatthefuckimbisexual​