#note: various screen readers may approach the thing differently

[treeroutes]

now that almost everyone's got polls, i feel like sharing this information for non-screen reader users : when you haven't yet voted on a poll, the screen reader will read each line one by one (you won't know it's a poll until you've reached the end of the options and the screen reader reads how long the poll will last); whereas once you've voted, the screen reader will read all the options, percentages included, as one block of text.

i'm not saying this because of accessibility issues, just you know, it never hurts to know how new, omnipresent features are actually experienced by disabled people.

[blurredcolour]

IV. “I Trust You Know What You’re Doing?”

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

Struggling with the forced separation of your transfer and promotion, it does not take long for you and Bucky to plan a trip to London together. But even while you're on leave, the world around you continues to do its best to tear itself apart.

Warnings: Language, Grief, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral - f receiving, implied virginity loss, protected vaginal sex, condoms, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms] - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: Welcome to this massive installment. I have no excuses, only apologies. Also I only had the fortitude to proof this once, there may be more errors than normal, but I didn't want to delay it any longer - I will correct things as I find them. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

ETA: The image descriptions for the letters contain the text within to allow for a screen reader or anyone who cannot read cursive. Click the ‘ALT’ button to access.

Word Count: 8497

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Wycombe Abbey could not have been more different than Thorpe Abbotts if it had tried.

The private, or in a most confusing twist ‘public’ as the Brits called such institutions, girls’ school had begun its life in the 17th century as a manor house before being transformed into a much grander residence near the end of the 19th century. The school had opened in 1896 with only forty students, but that number had swelled to over two hundred by the time the building was requisitioned for use as the Headquarters of the 8th Air Force.

Stained glass windows, stonework, archways, and wood panelling now replaced squat concrete buildings and rough-and-ready Nissen huts. Though everything was just as drafty, so at least the temperature provided some familiar consistency to your new surroundings. As you descended from your quarters tucked away in some forgotten corner of the attic, down a set of precarious servants’ stairs, you nearly took a wrong turn – again. To your credit you had only been here three days and the maze of corridors and rooms further divided into offices for USAAF purposes was nearly unnavigable.

Chiding yourself softly under your breath that your office was to the right and not the left, as though the sharpness of your tone might really drive it home this time, you quickened your steps still hoping to beat to postal clerk to the outgoing mail box that sat on the corner of your desk. It had been more of a challenge than you were expecting to write the letter clutched in your hand, but the daily meetings that senior operations officers held at 1015, 1600, and 2200 were your responsibility to attend and record via frantically scribbled notes to be typed up in a more professional format later.

These were the meetings at which mission targets for the entire 8th were chosen. The strategic value of various locations was discussed alongside weather reports and aligning with the RAF’s Bomber Command for maximum impact against Nazi Germany. After the first meeting, it would be decided if a mission would even be conducted the following day, and each Division, Wing, and Base involved would be put on alert to allow them time to begin planning the operation. By the time the last meeting ended, the target and approach would be finalized, and the official field orders would be issued.

It made for a remarkably long day, even with breaks for meals, and though you were guaranteed every other Friday off because of this, by the time you crawled into bed near midnight, you only had enough energy to add a few lines onto the letter you had begun to Bucky as soon as you arrived. It made for a rather disjointed and rambling piece of correspondence, in your opinion, but you could not bear to keep him waiting any longer – not wanting him to assume you had forgotten to write and not knowing how long the thing would take to reach him regardless.

Dashing into the office you shared with Myrtle, a very stoic young woman with dark hair and thick eyelashes from Rhode Island, you exhaled in relief to see the post still waiting to be collected and added your letter to the pile. Unlocking your desk drawers, you began setting up for the day, hoping it would reach him quickly.

His reply arrived in your inbox just over two weeks later, near the end of September. Sliding it into your brown leather utility bag, you did your utmost to ignore its very existence throughout the first daily meeting, and your subsequent production of the official report thereof. Taking your lunch break a little earlier than usual paid off in that the line was much shorter at that time. You inhaled the mystery stew and rolls, hardly tasting them, before taking your letter outside to read in the rare afternoon sunshine.

It was short, and it was unspeakably adorable that Bucky did not write in cursive, but there was no lack of his personality in his response. It was as though the very essence of him had been distilled into the ink itself and you could not help the broad grin that bore its way into the muscles of your cheeks, making them ache as you read it.

Glancing quickly at your watch, you realized there was still time to send a reply before the second post pick-up but based on the length of time it had taken for this exchange of letters, it was unlikely another would reach him with enough time to plan for October 8 – your next Friday off. Worrying your lip between your teeth as you considered your options, you landed on a rather devious idea, one that quite honestly would have never come to you if not for the deep need to reach Bucky immediately. Vi had a telephone on her desk in the weather office, a number that you had access to given the strategic importance of weather to the senior operations officers.

Myrtle would be on her break for another fifteen minutes…you had not even realized you had made up your mind before your feet began to carry you back inside, up the stairs into the mercifully still-empty office. Digging out the directory, you found the number for Thorpe Abbotts’ weather office and took a shaky breath as you sank into your chair.

‘Keep it brief, keep it free of classified information. Worst you’ll get is a reprimand.’

The devious, deceptive voice in your mind was a new one, fostered, perhaps, by the rather carefree man you found yourself deeply entangled with, but it was not one you were about to disobey. Lifting the handset of your phone from its cradle, you cleared your throat as the operator answered.

“Norfolk 7315, please.” You tried your best to sound calm and collected as the line clicked and began to ring.

“Phillips.” An unexpected voice answered, and you gulped, knowing Ruth would be less likely to participate in some romantic scheme.

You greeted her in kind, trying to ignore the ache of loneliness as she gasped softly.

“I was hoping you might pass along a message for me?”

“To a certain Major?” You could hear the grin in her voice and felt the pressure on your chest ease.

“Indeed. October 8. I will arrange accommodations.”

“Your line should he need to reach you?”

Hesitating a moment, you ultimately decided to provide it as well, wanting to ensure he could in fact contact you if something came up. Or perhaps any of them could – should the worst happen.

‘Don’t think about that.’ You chastised yourself internally.

“You’re well?” Ruth asked and you smiled softly.

“I am, please tell everyone I miss them terribly.”

“Will do, have to go.”

There was a ‘click’ as she hung up and the line went dead but the lightness in your heart could not be extinguished.

Nine days later you found yourself waiting on the platform at Liverpool Street station awaiting the arrival of Bucky’s train from East Anglia. Given the proximity of High Wycombe to London, you had arrived much earlier that morning and checked into the hotel already, dropping off your small bag and come to wait for his train – well you assumed he’d be on the first train of the day, but as the carriages disgorged a sea of humanity and you had yet to spot him, your brows began to furrow in doubt.

You were about to fish the folded schedule you had picked up from the ticket counter to check the next arrival time when he was suddenly wrapping an arm around you, pulling you tight into his chest as you gasped softly in surprise.

“There you are doll.” Bucky sighed, dropping his bag at your feet to slide the other arm around you as he pulled back to nudge your cap out of the way and deliver a breathtakingly thorough kiss that you were not entirely sure was appropriate for the public setting you were in.

Not that you stopped him, you own arms snaking about his midsection to cling to him tightly.

Pulling back, his eyes raked over your features lovingly as you both inhaled deeply to fill your greedy lungs.

“Well, well 1st Lieutenant.” He smirked proudly as he lifted his hand to stroke the chrome insignia you now wore on your lapels courtesy of your promotion, leaving smudges of his thumb print.

“You are leaving my uniform in disarray, Major.” You chided playfully, unable to hold back you grin, even for a moment, to sell the joke.

His forefinger hooked behind the knot in your tie, tugging it out from beneath your jacket and pulling you closer – eliminating the last few inches of space that remained between your bodies.

“Good.” He rumbled against your lips before kissing you deeply, severely undermining the infrastructure of your knees.

The loud racket of the train cars as they shunted into one another jolted the pair of you apart, making you realize you were among the last few remaining on the platform as the now empty train left the station.

“Let’s get you checked in and your bag dropped off.” You murmured, clearing your throat as you unbuttoned your uniform jacket to straighten and re-secure your tie.

His hand slid into yours as the pair of you made your way out of the station and he happily followed you to a hotel you’d found near his station, knowing that he’d be here longer than you and it would be easier for him to find his way back to base this way. Sitting patiently in the lobby as he checked in and ran his bag up, you smiled as he returned to hold his hands out to you.

“C’mon doll, I have a whole plan.”

Taking his hands, you rose to your feet, raising your eyebrows curiously. “A whole plan?”

He leaned in to murmur against your ear, “you’re not the only one involved in planning you know.”

You pulled back quickly, eyes wide with a touch of panic. You were quite certain you had never told him just what your new position entailed, and there was no way he could simply guess it.

“Easy doll, your phone line.” He winked as he maneuvered your arm through his, turning to lead you out the front door.

Slowly exhaling, it clicked into place. Of course. Just as you were able to find Vi’s desk number in a directory, it seemed Bucky had been doing a little research of his own.

“Well, shhh.” You chastened him firmly, laying a finger over your lips, looking very much like an anti-slander campaign poster.

His hearty laugh in response did little to convince you that he took in the message.

“Now, how do we get to Hyde Park…” He murmured, pulling a crumpled leave guide out of his pocket.

“The underground.” You answered easily, leading him back towards the very station he had arrived at but this time down to the tube station entrance where the pair of you purchased your tickets.

His touch rarely left you – even if he was forced to release your hand, you could feel his palm pressed against your lower back as you made your way through the crowded subterranean space. You were glad to have him with you this time, not particularly a fan of this mode of transportation, but it certainly was an efficient way to get around London. Pressed close together on the train, you took the opportunity to simply gaze at him, basking in his presence after nearly a month apart, not missing the way his mouth ticked up at the corner cockily.

“Missed you too, doll.” He winked and ducked a kiss to your ear before guiding you off the train at your stop – once he had confirmed with you it was indeed your stop.

Blinking your way back into the light of day, you pointed at a directional sign guiding the way to Hyde Park.

“Perfect, now apparently there are…sandwiches!” He crowed and tugged you over to a sandwich truck that seemed quite popular based on the line of waiting patrons.

Your face was starting to hurt, driving home how infrequently you had found the opportunity to smile in his absence, making you squeeze his hand fondly. Bucky looked back to you quickly as he joined the queue.

“You really did plan everything.” You gulped quickly and he beamed proudly.

“Anything for my girl. What kind would you like?” He gestured at the menu written on the side of the truck.

By the time you reached the front of the line, Bucky was able to easily place your order, including two bottles of lemonade, insisting on paying. Opening your utility bag, you carefully packed the lunch away, earning a rather damp and enthusiastic kiss on your cheek as he snatched your hand to continue onto the park.

“May I ask what it is about this park in particular?” You inquired as the pair of you dashed across the road.

“You can ask…” His cheeky reply had you scoffing in return as you entered the canopy of trees, following a path further and further away from the traffic of downtown London.

Plenty of men in uniform seemed to be out, enjoying the nice weather with women on their arms. Women who, unlike you, enjoyed the luxury of being allowed to dress as they chose during their leisure time. It had been one of many reasons that nearly twenty-five percent of women had chosen not to remain enlisted during the transition from the WAAC to the WAC, the army requirement to remain in uniform even when off-duty. In all honesty, you had not really missed your civilian clothes until just then.

Watching the sheer femininity of those women as they swirled about in their colorful fabrics only drove home how drably olive and plainly cut your uniform truly was.

“You’re a million miles away, doll.” Bucky’s voice cut through the dark clouds that had gathered in your mind and you looked to him quickly.

“Sorry Bucky, it’s beautiful here. Like another place entirely.” You offered him a smile but by the way his eyebrow lifted slightly he did not seem to be entirely buying it. “Have the leaves started changing around the base yet?” You tried changing the subject.

He shook his head, releasing your hand to slide his arm around your waist instead, pulling you closer. “Seems everything will happen later here than back home.”

You hummed thoughtfully, glancing ahead and gasping a little at the glimpse of a sizeable body of water that seemed to be filled with rowboats.

“That’s why were here.”

You turned back to him to see a broad grin had overtaken his face and laughed in excitement as it was terribly romantic.

“If I had known, Major Egan, I would have brought my parasol.” You grinned and he snorted, squeezing your hip fondly.

“No need to put on airs, 1st Lieutenant,” he smirked, “the ride will be enjoyable all the same.”

“Bucky!” You hissed sharply, slapping his chest as he laughed deeply, ducking your head slightly as more than a few passersby shot glances your way.

“C’mon doll.” He chuckled and led you over to the booth beside the dock, paying the fee for a thirty-minute rental before the pair of you headed down to climb into one of the waiting row boats.

Setting your heavy bag on the floor, you carefully stepped into the rather unstable watercraft, settling on the passenger’s bench – denoted as such by the ornate ironwork arms. Bucky followed, seated across from you at the oars, his knees nearly brushing against yours, legs too long for so small a boat. Unbuttoning and sliding off his jacket, he tossed it and his cap to you before rolling up his sleeves and began to row the pair of you out onto The Serpentine, you now knew the small lake to be called.

“I trust you know what you’re doing?” You asked as he appeared to easily manage the oars, seeming at ease in the small boat.

“Mostly.” He teased with a wink before laughing at your slightly aghast expression. “Grew up on the shore of Lake Michigan, doll. Boats are like planes to me, easily managed.” He soothed.

It was difficult to decide which view to settle your eyes upon, the verdant green of the still-lush trees, the throng of boats around you, or Bucky working up a remarkably attractive sheen of sweat with his forearms on display as he propelled the rowboat through the water. A feathered fan would have been a very useful tool in that moment, to hide behind or cool yourself down, or perhaps both.

Belatedly, you realized that Bucky had been speaking this whole time – about events back at Thorpe Abbotts. Giving you the update about the people you knew, the trouble Meatball had caused with a farmer down the road, but he trailed off when he realized you were staring once more in dumbfounded silence at him.

“Doll, you’re going to give me a big head if you keep looking at me like that.” He winked as he lifted the oars from the water, letting the water sluice from the blades before tucking them into the boat on either side of you.

“Y…you’re good at that.” You replied lamely and shook your head. “Hungry?” Leaning forward for your bag, which was in all honestly a lot closer to his feet in the floor of the boat, you froze as everything tilted precariously in response to your movements.

Bucky lay a gentle hand on your shoulder to steady you. “Allow me.” Bending down slowly, he scooped up your bag and opened the flap to retrieve your sandwich and lemonade. “It’s sure tight in here, how did you even make this all fit?”

He tugged a little harder on the packet containing your lunch and your eyes widened in horror as, while he was triumphant, he also managed to send the three condoms you had tucked into your bag scattering to the floor of the boat. His eyes followed the distinct, square, paper packets and you could see his throat bob as he swallowed viciously.

“Doll…” His voice came out rough as a gravel road as he slowly raised his eyes to meet yours. “…been doing some planning of your own?”

“‘A WAC is always prepared.’” You quoted in a mortified whisper, struggling against the urge to lunge forward and hide the evidence, knowing it would only send both of you over the side and into the lake.

You watched another swallow ripple down Bucky’s throat before he offered your lunch to you, carefully collecting the offending items and returning them to your bag before he retrieved his own food.

“Would you mind,” He spoke after taking a rather ruthless and oversized bite of his sandwich, words muffled between slices of bread and chicken salad before he swallowed to start over. “Would you mind if, instead of following the rest of my plan, after these thirty minutes are up, I take you back to the hotel?”

Taking a thick swallow of your own, you shook your head slowly as you felt your cheeks heat up at the implications of that invitation. “I would not mind, no.” You clarified breathlessly and he nodded sharply, gesturing for your as-yet-unopened bottle of lemonade.

Handing it back to him, you watched silently as he lined the edge of the cap with the metal plate holding the oarlock in place, popping it off the bottle with one sharp blow of the heel of his palm.

“Thank you.” You murmured quietly as he passed you the opened drink, taking a deep sip as he repeated the process with his own, draining nearly half the bottle in one go.

Tilting your head back to take in the feel of the sun on your face, you slid your cap from your hair, adding it to the pile of his neatly folded items on the bench beside you, continuing to enjoy your picnic on the lake.

“You heard about Dye hitting twenty-five?” He broke the silence, sounding much more like himself again and you nodded quickly.

“Big news, everywhere in the 8th. Lucky crew all heading home – how did Lil take it?” You tilted your head curiously, raising your bottle to your lips, his eyes following the motion closely.

“Hm? Oh, she’ll be alright…they’re both good at letters.” He nodded, leaning back a little.

You knocked your knee against his affectionately. “Don’t sell yourself short you sweet man, I thoroughly enjoyed yours.”

His eyes flicked to yours quickly as a small smile curled his lips. “Yeah?”

You nodded firmly. “Yeah. Promise to give you more to reply to soon, phone was just necessary to make this happen.”

His hand landed on your thigh gently and he squeezed the flesh through your skirt. “Worth it. Just how long are your days though, doll?”

Your fingers played along the empty glass bottle, and you shrugged. “As long as they need to be.” You replied evasively.

“Mm, I’m going to get a better answer out of you than that.” He threatened playfully as he leaned forward to grasp the oar handles, swinging the blades back into the water and taking the pair of you on a loop around the corner of the lake before returning you to the dock.

Bucky climbed out first, taking his cap and jacket before helping you out easily, kissing you firmly as soon as you were on solid ground. “Let’s take a cab…” He breathed impatiently and you laughed, shaking your head.

“The cost would be astronomical, come on.” You affixed your cap on your head as he rolled down his sleeves and slid his jacket back on before the pair of you made your way back to the Underground.

Bucky’s body was practically pressed against yours the entire trip back to Liverpool Street station, seemingly unable to tolerate any form of separation. As you neared the hotel though, you looked to him slowly. “We should go in as colleagues…I booked us that way.”

He looked at you utterly confused, and you swallowed.

“We’re unwed, there was no way I could book us here together, and they will be none to please if they realize I’ve tricked them. I’ll get my key, you get yours, I’ll come to your room…”

He nodded slowly, arm reluctantly unwinding from around your waist before holding the door open for you to step inside.

“Thank you, Major.” You nodded, sliding your cap from your head as you stepped inside, heading to the counter to fetch your room key as he did the same, the pair of you walking up the stairs to the fifth floor together before parting ways so you could fetch your small overnight bag.

It was rather a waste of money, to book a room knowing you would most likely never sleep in it, but such things were necessary for women like you. Women who chose to go to bed with a man they were not married to in the long light of the afternoon. Taking a steadying breath, you left the perfectly made bed behind, walking down the hall to Bucky’s room and knocking on the door softly.

It promptly swung open to reveal a smiling Bucky, his jacket and cap long gone, along with his necktie, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He stepped back and gestured for you to enter his much larger room with a small brown paper wrapped packet clasped in his hand. Once the door was closed behind you, you let out the laugh you had been holding.

“I did book this under Major John Egan, I suppose they felt the need to give you a nicer room than a Lieutenant.”

He smirked and kissed your cheek, taking your cap and bag from your hand, then pressing the package into it. “Before I forget, again.”

“Bucky you didn’t have to get me anything, you came to see me…”

“Open it.” His eyes danced with anticipation, and you began to pull at the piece of twine holding the package closed, unfolding the utilitarian paper to reveal a brand-new pair of stockings.

You let out an audible gasp as your jaw fairly fell to the floor.

“To replace the pair that got wrecked when you fell.” He smiled, obviously pleased by your reaction.

“How on earth did you…?!” You trailed off, staring up at him in wonderment.

“A man never reveals his secrets, doll.” He grinned and let out a grunt as you launched yourself into his arms, kissing him fiercely at the thoughtfulness of his gift and in recognition of the sheer determination it must have taken to achieve such a feat in rationed England.

His fingers gently plied the items from your grasp, setting them on the bedside table, freeing your hands to latch onto his arms as he cupped your face gently.

“You sure about this, my beautiful girl?” He whispered and your breath hitched in your throat at the tender look on his face just inches from yours.

“Yes.” You nodded quickly, sliding your fingers into his hair to pull his lips back to yours greedily.

A pleased noise rolled from his throat and across your tongue as he coaxed your mouth open, his fingers shifting to make steady work at the buttons on your jacket before he unwound your hands from his dark curls to slide the garment off, tossing it in the general direction of the chair that held his. You could not help the giggle that bubbled up from your chest at that as you moved to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one.

The tug of his teeth on your lower lip quickly transformed your laughter to shuddering breath as you held tightly to the open sides of his shirt, feeling him tug your tie free from your collar before it joined the pile of clothes somewhere on the plush blue carpet of the hotel room floor. Your shirt and skirt were quick to join it, leaving you in your brassiere and slip, garter belt and underwear still hidden from view.

“You have a remarkable number of layers on, doll.” He huffed as his mouth descended along your throat to suck at the crook of your shoulder, installing a dramatic curve in your spine as you arched against him wantonly with a half-swallowed cry of pleasure.

“Y…you have almost as many…” You protested, tugging the ends of his shirt from his trousers before pushing it from his shoulders only to be met with his undershirt.

The sheer broadness of him had never quite been so very apparent and had you licking your lips as you struggled with the last barrier between you and his torso, your ID tags rasping metallically against his.

“Not nearly as complicated though.” He muttered as his fingers worked at the hook and eye closure of your bra until you felt the band go slack and he leaned back to slide the straps down your arms, making you shiver as your breasts were revealed to his hungry gaze.

Bucky’s heavy exhale fluttered against your collarbone, grown cool by the time it traversed the distance between you, and you shuddered slightly, looking to the side shyly. He leaned in to brush his nose against yours tenderly, pecking your lips.

“Whatcha hiding for, gorgeous?” His tone was gentle and had your eyes slowly sliding to meet his, an action he rewarded with a deep kiss.

He continued to distract you with repeated meetings your lips, each time with growing intensity as his palms slid upwards along your sides to cup your breasts. The meeting of flesh had you inhaling sharply through your nose, hands seeking anchor as your fingers twisted into his beltloops where his trousers hung open around his hips – yet again delaying you in your purpose of undressing him. As his thumbs honed in on your sensitive peaks, Bucky elicited all manner of noises from your throat only to eagerly devour them.

“D’ya have any idea how soft you are doll?” He sighed against your lips as he kneaded your tender flesh. “’Cept right here.” He smirked as he tugged at your nipples and you whined his name, pressing impossibly close against him, realizing he was anything but soft.

Your shimmies and writhes against him seemed to serve as a reminder of the greater purpose at hand and Bucky’s fingers ceased their torment, sliding down to your hips to divest you of your slip before beginning to work at your stockings. Toeing off your shoes, you pushed his trousers from his hips, letting gravity do the rest.

“So many hooks and straps and loops…” He muttered as his mouth dipped to the hollow of your throat, though his fingers seemed more than capable of stripping you down to only your underwear.

Seizing your hips, Bucky guided you back onto the bed, and you could not help the sigh at that flew from your mouth at the feel of a real mattress with springs and a duvet, drawing a broad grin across his face as he crawled over you, coaxing you to lay back.

“Precious women like you should always have luxurious beds like these. None of those stinking Army cots…” His hands slid beneath your spine to half guide, half drag you up to rest on the obnoxious mountain of pillows.

Staring up at him in awe, at a complete loss for words, you settled on pressing up onto your elbows to kiss him firmly, hoping to convey your appreciation physically rather than trying to summon speech. As his lips parted from yours to begin sliding down your body, you let out a slight huff of annoyance, earning a chuckle against your collarbone which rumbled through his chest and into your body. He lifted his head slightly as his fingers wove through the ball chain of your ID tags as he seemed to notice them for the first time.

“I always wondered if you ladies had these.”

You bit your lip to smother your grin as he never hesitated to say what was on his mind, a constant stream of commentary on the world around him, and rather than annoying, you found it utterly adorable.

“Are you laughin’ at me, doll?” He smirked and gave a gentle tug, pulling a genuine laugh from you, to which he responded with a brilliant grin. “Alright then, I’ll give you something to laugh about.” He bowed his head to drag the flat of his tongue across your nipple, your resulting whimper bouncing off the walls as he resumed his teasing of your opposite breast.

“B…Bucky…” Your eyes shot wide as his plush lips sealed around that tender peak, applying a positively euphoric suction that had you burying your fingers in his hair and pressing your body closer to his mouth in silent demand.

With careful precision, his knee slid its way between your thighs, applying coaxing pressure to each in turn until you provided enough room for him to settle between them. The feeling of his hard length slotting against your core with only the thin barrier of your underwear separating your intimate flesh had your jaw dropping open in a silent ‘oh’ – a revelation unto itself despite all the experiences you had enjoyed with him thus far. Undulating your hips against his experimentally, you shuddered at the ragged, abbreviated groan he pressed against your sternum, caught in the midst of traversing your chest. Thoroughly encouraged, you repeated the action, savagely gnawing on your lip as he bit off a curse before his mouth reached its destination and laved at your neglected nipple.

Nestling tighter against you, Bucky began to roll his hips against you in earnest, obliterating your ability to think and scheme against him at the blinding pleasure his combined actions induced. You could feel the smug angle of his lips against your abdomen as his mouth was trailing lower on your body, his fingers curling into the waistband of your underwear to peel it from your body. Shifting back to free the interfering item from your legs, he gazed down at you with almost black eyes, his pupils having nearly devoured his irises in his arousal, before stretching forward onto his stomach.

Blinking rapidly, you raised up on your elbows to watch him hoist one of your legs over a strong shoulder and then the other, shuffling embarrassingly close to the apex of your thighs.

“Bucky?” You squeaked hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow up at you, his pink tongue darting out the wet his lips, nearly matching the flush that had painted its way across his cheeks and down his neck. “Yes, doll?”

“What…” You swallowed thickly as your throat clenched erratically.

“Making good on a promise.” He replied seriously before stretching forward to deliver a thorough kiss to your folds that fairly sucked the air from your lungs, an odd whistling sound echoing through you as you savagely burrowed your fingers into the bedding.

When his tongue narrowed in on that sensitive bundle of nerves, it was your turn to bite off a curse, slumping back onto the pillows as he hummed against you in what was surely mock sympathy as he most certainly did not let up, his efforts only doubling. As your hips began to jerk and writhe, he slung a heavy forearm across your pelvis to pin you in place, only shifting closer and tracing his forefinger around your entrance teasingly. It was all you could do not to kick and wail as you felt yourself becoming embarrassingly slick, the noises he was making growing ever so obscene and filling the hotel room.

“Fuck!” You whined against your palm as his finger finally sunk into your wet heat, its passage remarkably eased by your arousal, hips bucking hard enough to jar his arm slightly.

“Damn you’re delicious, doll.” He growled against you, lips smacking loudly as he began to suck at your pearl, finger working you open enough to add a second before beginning a demanding rhythm.

“Oh…oh...god…” You cried out in agony, too far gone to remember your desire to be quiet, feeling the tension of pending release growing ever closer under his amorous onslaught.

“I know, I know…” He soothed, only quickening his pace, hooking his fingers towards the front of your body, sending your back into a dramatic curve from the mattress, a tortured moan ripping from your throat. “Oh, I have to see that again.” He rasped and sought that precise spot with a ruthless single-minded precision until he was rewarded with not only the same reaction, but your strangled cry as your orgasm slammed into you with breath-taking force.

As you returned to earth from your visit to the celestial plane, the first sensation you became aware of was tender, damp kisses being pressed to your inner thigh as Bucky murmured soft words of encouragement to you.

“There’s my gorgeous girl, holy hell that was incredible, did you enjoy that half as much as I did?”

You managed a wordless noise in the affirmative that summoned him to your side, his lips feathering kisses up your jaw to your ear, the tickle of his moustache making you laugh breathlessly.

“Good?” He murmured and you nodded quickly, turning to look at his still-expectant face.

“Yes.” You cobbled together a verbal response, and he blessed you with a warm smile which you leaned in to press your lips against in gratitude.

“Good.” He swiped his tongue along your lips before suddenly slipping from the bed, making you raise your head in confusion.

Stalking over to find your utility bag amongst the sea of discard items and clothing, he proudly retrieved the three condoms that had announced your hopes and intentions for you by appearing in the rowboat, unceremoniously shucking off his boxers as he made his way back to you. You had held his length before, stroked it to completion, but that paled in comparison to seeing the full expanse of him in the light of day.

“My gorgeous doll, you might not say a lot, but you sure don’t mind looking at what you like.” He smirked unabashedly as he set two of the paper packets on the night table beside you, unwrapping the third to unroll the protective latex onto his cock.

Rather than letting his teasing words dissuade you, though they did cause your teeth to sink into your lower lip, you chose to allow your eyes to linger on his actions, rather fascinated by the whole process. By the male anatomy as well. Task managed, he was climbing over you once more, blocking the golden light of afternoon that was filtering in through the windows with his body, warmth radiating from his skin. He settled easily between your legs once more, still parted from his early activities as you really had not summoned the wherewithal to move yet, and stroked his length through the lingering slick gathered along your folds.

A broken sigh fell from his lips before they clashed with yours, not quite aligned, but the sentiment was still there, body shuddering as you slid your arms around him to cling to his shoulders. It was difficult to tell just whom Bucky was teasing as he continued to rut against you, the tip of his cock brushing against your overly-sensitive bundle of nerves, both of you huffing through your nostrils until at last he began to sink into you.

Tearing your lips from his, you sucked in gasping breaths at the feel of the foreign intrusion, appreciating the fact that his pace seemed to slow in response to that. Appreciating the pause he afforded you when his pelvis slotted snuggly against yours once he was seated fully inside you. Cracking open your clenched eyes, you gulped tightly as they were immediately met by Bucky’s, crowned by a furrowed brow, but flicking over your features studiously as if awaiting your instruction.

“I’m ok.” You breathed and he nodded, immediately seizing your lips in a kiss once more as he rocked forward, earning a ragged moan as your fingertips dug into the skin of his back.

His familiarity with this sort of activity had always been apparent, but was exceptionally obvious now as he slowly began the rhythmic push and pull to drive you both towards climax. The sheer intimacy of it was too much and yet it was not nearly enough, your body craving ever more, ever faster, with increasing desperation. The rare moments that Bucky’s lips were not on yours, they were filling the room with choked-off moans or statements of the filthiest order.

“God doll, you feel so fucking good around me.”

“So tight. I can feel how wet you are too, even with this rubber on.”

“You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t ya? You’re gripping on me like a…fuck I can’t think when you do that…”

His ability to even speak while experiencing such mind-numbing pleasure, rambling though it was, was fairly awe-inspiring. Your responses were limited to moans and whimpers and cries of his name as his supposition was correct – your orgasm was indeed imminent. All it took was the solicitous stroking of his forefinger against the apex of your pleasure to send you flying over the cliff into paradise, clinging to his body as you cried out in ecstasy.

A string of rasped curses mixed in with several sighs of your name heralded his release as Bucky finished not long after, rocking against you sloppily before sinking down onto your chest with a comforting heaviness. Stroking his back tenderly as he nestled into your neck, you grinned stupidly at the ceiling as you felt quite pleased with your choices.

The pair of you made good use of the rest of the condoms you had brought, with a short break for a meal Bucky procured while you took a bath. He returned with a bottle of brandy as well, finding you still in the bathtub. A lot of water ended up on the floor, a pile of water-logged towels your testament to the attempted clean-up. Eating in bed, you shared stories of your childhoods – Bucky’s about growing up on the shores of Lake Michigan, yours of the small two-storey house with its screen door and front porch from which you had watched your brother play with the neighbourhood boys.

You fell asleep in one another’s arms after the final condom was disposed of, the sun long set, but awoke sometime in the night to the unsettling sound of an air raid siren. Not as common in 1943, yet being as close as you were to Canary Wharves, the Luftwaffe still made the occasional bomb run. Startled to find the bed empty, you sat up sharply to see Bucky sitting in front of the window, completely naked, intermittently illuminated by the flashes of distant explosions and anti-aircraft fire.

“Sorry doll, didn’t mean to wake ya.” He muttered and you shook your head, sliding to the end of the bed.

“You ok?” You tilted your head, blinking into a particularly bright flash.

“Hmmm…” He replied noncommittally, turning back to the scene before him with a frown. “I’ve dropped a lot of those. Done a lot of killing.”

Swallowing tightly, you slid to your feet despite the way your heart was pounding in your throat, padding across the carpet towards him.

“Done your job, Bucky. Done what was asked of you.” You assured him, coming to stand behind him, setting your hands on his shoulders.

“If there’s any balance to all this, my ticket was punched a long time ago.” He muttered sullenly and it was your turn to frown.

Bending down to press a kiss to the crown of his head, you stepped in front of him to block his view, perhaps, hopefully, to block his darker thoughts as you shifted to sit on his thighs.

“Whatcha doin’ doll?” He quirked an eyebrow, mouth falling open in a silent moan as your fingers slid between your bodies to gently stroke his length.

“Lightening up.” You replied, invoking the words of your dead brother’s inscription.

It was impossible to think of a more important piece of advice or a more importance source in that moment. A young man who would never get the chance to spend one more time in his lover’s arms, who knew you better than anyone in the entire world. And you were most certainly going to follow it. You had to be up in less than three hours, to catch the first train to High Wycombe, and you would not pass up this moment with Bucky. The future was unknowable, your brother’s death had certainly taught you that.

Bucky’s fingers curled into your hips as his mouth descended onto yours greedily, clearly in agreement with your plan, despite the lack of remaining condoms. Shuffling closer, you guided his now fully hard cock into your body, your soft noises of pleasure colliding with his in the space between your parted lips. Working together, with plenty of guidance from his firm grip, you began to rocking your hips, using his shoulders for leverage. His head fell back to stare up at you in awe, jaw slack, adam’s apple bobbing viciously.

“Christ, I love you…” His face betrayed such vulnerability, lips trembling slightly, that you quickly lifted your hands to cradle his cheeks, even as your lashes grew suddenly damp.

“I love you too, John. So much.” You replied thickly, rather resenting the dramatic wobble in your voice.

The tiniest of smiles pulled at his lips before his face grew serious once more and he lunged forward to kiss you hungrily, hands anchoring your shoulders so he might thrust up into your body with a sudden need. It was all you could do to hang on, though pleasure itself still managed to sweep you away, leaving you only with the vague recognition of him half pulling out mid-release.

It was terribly difficult to leave him in that comfortable, if messy, bed a few hours later. He did not make it easy either, impossible to untangle from your body like an unwieldy piece of seaweed. Yet somehow you managed to make your trains and arrive at your desk at the appointed hour. Focusing on the task at hand with the pleasurable ache between your legs was altogether another challenge, forcing you to sit on first one hip and then the other.

You had just returned after the lunch break when your phone rang, your greeting barely out of your mouth before Bucky’s question came down the line.

“Did you know you know where they played yesterday’s match?” He asked flatly and it took you several seconds to comprehend that he was speaking in code and just what he was getting at.

You swallowed painfully. “Yes, I did sir.”

Of course you did, you were in the room on Thursday night when they had chosen Bremen as the target for yesterday’s mission.

“A lot of our best players struck out, you know. Buck included.”

He sounded utterly unlike himself, cold and distant, not the man you had left just hours ago in that hotel room in London. All the same, your heart broke for him, and for yourself too. You liked Major Cleven – this war was nothing but cruel.

“I’m so sorry B-Major Egan.” You corrected yourself quickly, eyeing Myrtle across the room.

“Well I hope you all pick a better field for tomorrow’s match because I’m pitching.”

You opened your mouth to reply as your heart dropped through the floor, but the sound of the handset slamming into the cradle resounded over the line before it went dead, giving you no opportunity to speak. To wish him luck or, heaven forfend, goodbye. You hung up your phone with a slightly shaking hand as a deep sense of dread threaded its way through your stomach.

-------------------------

Read Part Five - "I Trusted You!"

"Trust" Series Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @precious-little-scoundrel, @rubyfruitjungle, @storysimp, @mads-weasley, @xxanaduwrites, @bcon24, @fxxiva, @slowsweetlove, @hockeyboysarehot, @darylas

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (4)

Chapter Four: A Different Approach

Gif by @azertyrobaz

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: A reunion may be on the cards sooner than you thought

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, gambling, again we have my interpretation of headspaces, limited use of y/n, fluff and mild angst, discussion of character death, protective reader and Hunter, reader and Crosshair kinda get into it

Word Count: 5.3K

Author's notes: Now we're getting into part of the series where each episode allows for a bit more creative license which I'm very excited about! It starts with the end of this one and I hope y'all like it! Also, with regards to tagging people, I'm only tagging the users who still officially register when I do it. Please, please let me know if you want tagged/for me to try your username again!!

Sparks flew from the control as Omega did her best to stabilise them, but it was proving to be a rather challenging task. “I could use some help up here! Our comms are down. I can’t contact Hunter!”

From down below in the shuttle, Crosshair was also doing his best to get things under control but the smoke, electrical malfunctions and the persistent screech of the alarm told him that was a very unlikely outcome. He analysed the screen dictating the state of the ship. “That’s not the priority. The ship sustained heavy damage.”

“I can see that.” Omega retorted.

Crosshair made his way back up to the co-pilot’s seat, with Batcher following close behind. “Get the stabilizers back online!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Immediately after she said that a large spark of electricity crackled from the console and the ship was torn out of hyperspace and spiralled towards the planet ahead.

“We have to land.”

“A little hard to do when nothing’s working.” Omega snapped at him as she fiddled with the steering but to no avail.

The ship entered the atmosphere and started to plummet towards the ground.

Omega pulled hard on the lever to even out the ship as the ground grew ever closer. It was all she could do before it crashed landed and skidded along the surface.

When it finally came to a halt, Omega opened the glass roof to allow them all to get some air and eventually exit the wrecked vehicle. She looked in dismay as the controls fully shut off and the last dying spark flickered. “This will take forever to repair.”

Crosshair exhaled a sore sigh as he got his bearings, but that soreness was soon replaced by irritation as the hound pushed insistently on the back of his chair. “No. there’s no time for that.” The dog’s fussing got too much for him. He stood up to allow her to jump past him and off the shuttle.

“We need to get the nav reader online to extract the coordinates to Tantiss for when we go back.” Omega said, turning to look at him.

He couldn’t understand how she’d only just escaped that hell and was already talking about returning. “We’re not going back.”

“We left the other prisoners behind.”

“And the Empire is going to be searching for this ship and us.” He grabbed the pack with the blasters and hopped out of the shuttle. “We have to move. I scanned a spaceport a few clicks east. We’ll start there.”

Omega followed his example and let him lead the way to the spaceport.

--

With the establishment of the new plan being they would get to the spaceport and sneak onto a shuttle, they acquired their disguises and the two of them blended in with the civilians of the town.

They walked past the various troopers in the town as casually as they could so as not to arouse any unnecessary suspicion.

Omega warily analysed the situation ahead as they reached the spaceport. “It’s too well-guarded. We’ll never slip past all those troopers undetected.”

“I can take out at least half before they know what’s happening.” Crosshair stated confidently.

“Or… or we could try a way that doesn’t involve blaster fire.” Omega countered.

“Like what?” Crosshair asked, his voice filled with doubt.

“Watch and learn.” With that, Omega calmly led the way to the ticket attendant.

“Oh, I can hardly wait.” Crosshair said with a sigh as he followed a few paces behind.

“Hello. We’d like two tickets on the next shuttle please.” Omega requested pleasantly.

“Chain codes?” Came the standard reply from the attendant.

“About that. We lost our chain codes.” Omega said coyly.

“No chain codes, no passage.”

“Right. But you see, a problem for us could be an opportunity for you if, say, you knew of an alternate way of booking passage without a chain code.” She advanced towards the desk.

The attendant leaned forward. “Are you insinuating that I should take bribe?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.” Omega replied, feigning innocence.

“I do. And that could be arranged… for 15,000 credits.”

Omega’s composure slipped slightly upon hearing that price, “For two tickets?” She exclaimed.

“Per ticket. And it’s non-negotiable. You’re lucky I’m not charging extra for the creature.”

“Where do you expect is to get 30,000 credits?”

“Sounds like a you problem. Don’t come back without the credits.” The attendant waved a hand in dismissal.

Omega hung her head in defeat and left the port with Crosshair.

“Well, that went well.” Crosshair remarked sarcastically.

“Stow it.” Omega grumbled.

--

“Storming the spaceport would be easier than finding 30,000 credits.” Crosshair hissed as they aimlessly wandered the streets of the town.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Don’t be naïve. Every second we’re here, we’re at risk.”

They came to a stop outside a bar.

“The quite wasting time complaining.” Omega argued before two troopers exited the bar and they both averted their gaze, but the opening of the door had given Omega another idea. “I think I know how we can make some fast credits.”

“Of course you do.” Crosshair mumbled as he saw her getting ready to make her way into the bar. The fluttering of a scrappy piece of paper caught under a nearby crate grabbed his eye before he entered, and he came to a sudden stop as he picked it up and saw what- or rather who- was on it.

Omega noticed he had stopped and when she turned back to enquire what was wrong, the question died on her lips as she saw what he was looking at. Only half the information on the sheet was news to her, but the rest made her eyes widen in shock. By the looks of things, you had been on your own for the time she’d been on Tantiss and clearly, you’d stopped hiding. And judging by the harsh language and substantial reward offering, the Empire wasn’t too happy about that. Now, not only was there the trouble of how exactly this information would go down between you and Crosshair but she also couldn’t count on the fact that you were back with Hunter and Wrecker. She glanced up at Crosshair and, despite the fact that most of his face was covered, he could not conceal the emotions that flashed behind his eyes. “Oh… um… she- well back when- I’m sure she would’ve told-” She broke off with a sharp breath as she struggled to find the words to say.

“Doesn’t matter.” Crosshair said dismissively, crumpling it up and putting it away before he carried on into the bar. The fact that Omega seemed to already have an idea of what your… situation… gave him enough of a timeline to go off of.

“One thing at a time, right girl?” Omega said with a shaky breath, patting Batcher’s side as the hound nuzzled into her. Putting her mind onto the task at hand, she too entered the bar.

--

The bar itself was relatively busy, especially compared to how Cid’s had usually been, and it gave Omega the chance to study her potential adversaries from their booth by the wall unnoticed.

“That’s your plan? You want to hustle someone?” Crosshair repeated sceptically. What had they taught this kid?

“I’ve done it before, and I prefer to think of it as a temporary requisition of funds.”

“And bet with what? We don’t have anything.”

“They don’t know that.” Omega said with a cheeky grin.

“And if you lose?”

“Well… I guess we’ll be in more trouble.” With that, she made her way to the card table in the middle of the bar and sat across from the Trandoshan and got her performance ready to go.

--

To say that Crosshair was surprised would be an understatement, the kid was winning every hand against the Trandoshan and securing credits within a matter of minutes. Whatever experience she’d gained with the rest of his squad was clearly something to be admired. Although the mental image of Hunter even allowing her to hone such a skill felt very out of place, he was quietly grateful for it right now.

The bar came to a sudden hushed silence as the door opened. Omega heard Crosshair clear his throat in warning and she looked to the entrance to see an Imperial officer flanked by two troopers enter. She studied them carefully but remained at the table as she won the next hand much to the Trandoshan’s disappointment. “I think I’ll quite while I’m ahead.” She said in response to his pleas for another game. Having an Imperial official here complicated matters and it was time she, Crosshair and Batcher left.

“Leaving so soon?”

Omega turned her head to face the officer as he stood by the table.

“You’re in my seat.”

The Trandoshan let out a low snarl before he departed and gave up his seat to the man.

Crosshair tensed as he saw the Imperial sit but Omega waved him back.

“So, you think you’re good at this game?”

Omega replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

“Want to try against a, uh, real opponent?” He suggested to the young girl. “I insist.”

--

“Your mutt don’t seem to like me.” He said as the dog released a series of growls.

“She’s harmless.” Omega said in reply as she organised her cards.

“She’s a distraction. Get rid of her.” He demanded.

Omega signalled to Crosshair to take her out.

Crosshair got to his feet, clicked his tongue, and led Batcher to wait outside.

The Imperial watched them go. “Never seen you or your dad around before.” He commented.

“We’re just passing through.” Omega replied as she watched him flip the next card and the rise in murmurs indicated that both he and the crowd seemed to think her time was up.

“Eh, I’ll admit you’re not bad. But you seem to have misunderstood your enemy.”

Omega only smirked, “Did I?” She placed her cards down and flashed the set of the three Eastern Stars. Game over. “I’ll take those 20,000 credits.” She grew nervous however when his two guards made to approach the table.

He held a hand up to stop them. “I concede. You beat me fair and square.” He gave her the credits. “Nicely played.” He left the table.

The Imperial went back to his men and one of them addressed him.

“Sir. Patrol found a crashed Imperial vessel on the outskirts of town.”

“I wasn’t notified about any shuttles arriving today.” He angled back to look at the two strangers with a newfound sense of suspicion. “Now, hang on a minute.”

Omega gathered the credits in her bag and, now that Crosshair had returned, she got up to leave with him, but the familiar voice of the Imperial stopped them both.

“We’re not done here.” He chuckled coolly. “You haven’t paid your fine.”

“What fine?” Omega asked.

“Gambling’s illegal in these parts.”

“What?” Crosshair snarled as he made to step forward, but Omega’s arm stopped him.

“The law is the law. Now, all you gotta do is pay the fine. And I’ll be on my way.”

“How much?” Omega asked him as she did her best to keep her disgust at bay.

“Ten thousand credits… unless you prefer to be arrested instead.”

Omega got the credits out and handed them over.

“Excellent. Consider your fine paid in full.” He said smugly. “Try and stay out of trouble.” He dipped his cap and left the establishment.

Omega sighed in relief. “Let’s get out of here.”

Crosshair caught her shoulder. “How many credits do we have left?”

Omega checked the bag. “Thirty-five thousand. Enough for two tickets and a little extra.” She made the first move to leave.

--

“Crosshair, where’s Batcher?” Omega asked anxiously as she scanned the area for her companion.

“Oy. You looking for that hound?”

The two of them turned to look at the young boy speaking to them.

“You know where she went?” Omega queried.

“Sure do, but the answer’s gonna cost you. Ten thousand credits.”

The fact that he was a child made no difference, Crosshair sighed and stood intimidatingly over the boy. “I’m getting tired of this.”

“Okay, okay.” The boy backtracked. “Five, but that’s my final offer.”

Omega touched Crosshair’s arm to call him off before she gave the boy the money.

The boy examined the credits before he supplied the information, “That Imperial officer and his troopers snatched the creature and headed for the cargo docks. Down that way.” He pointed. “Nice doing business with ya.” He ran away from them before they could change their mind about the money.

Omega started off in the direction of the docks.

“Omega.”

She angled back to face Crosshair. “You heard him. Batcher’s this way.”

“And the spaceport is that way. Forget the hound. We have to get off this planet.”

“We never would be escaped without Batcher. I’m not leaving her.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“I’m not abandoning her!” Omega angrily tossed the bag of credits at him. “Take the credits. If you wanna go, then go. I’ll find my own way.” She stormed off.

Crosshair watched her go but before he got ready to go his own way, he felt guilt coil in his gut. It was becoming very clear as to the impact she could have on someone and explained why his squad had cared so much for her since he too found himself following her rather than doing the more sensible thing of leaving from the spaceport.

--

“Fine. We’ll do this your way.” Crosshair agreed begrudgingly as he placed the bag down before Omega scaled the gate to the cargo docks herself. “But my skills are being wasted.” He offered his hands as a means to boost her over the top.

Omega gave him a warm smile, “Noted.” With his assistance she was able to climb over the gate with ease.

Crosshair made the quick climb after her and together, they snuck through the docks looking for where Batcher was being kept.

Omega then heard a series of whines and she saw Batcher’s cage. “There’s Batcher.” She signalled to Crosshair before she analysed the situation around her. “Shouldn’t we free the other animals too?”

“Don’t push it.” Crosshair replied.

--

They had managed to covertly make their way around to get better access to the centre console but before they could make a move, that dull voice spoke up.

“I thought you’d come searching for your mutt. Yeah, unfortunately for you, Lau has a very strict pet policy. No license means a hefty fine.”

“How much this time?” Omega asked, pretending to play along as the two of them were swiftly surrounded by troopers.

“How ‘bout you give me all my money back? Credits won’t do you any good when Hemlock shows up.” He saw the shared looked between them. “Oh, did you think I wouldn’t piece it together when I found that crashed shuttle? Nothing gets by me. I run this town.” He drew his own blaster. “So, hand over the credits and surrender.”

Omega sighed, “Alright.” She chucked the bag to the Imperial. “Let’s try things your way.” She murmured to Crosshair.

“Finally.” Crosshair waited until Omega ducked to cover before firing the first shot, but he noticed his hand was still no unsteady and his aim was more compromised than he liked.

Omega used the chaos of the firefight to get to the controls and release all the animals, the resulting stampede thinning out the Imperial forces and reuniting her with Batcher.

“I’ll handle this. Take Batcher, and power up the ship.” Crosshair ordered. He provided her cover fire as she got the ship ready and when he saw a break in the blaster fire, he made his move towards the step.

Once he was on board, Omega got the cargo ship in the air and into the safety of hyperspace.

--

You had remained on the ship to study Tech’s datapad and the various planets and their coordinates whilst the other two dealt with the lead on this particular planet, but its name escaped you- you’d been to so many in this sector already, the names of them were beginning to blur together.

You were doing what you could to try and determine the next, more efficient course of action whilst the others were out but the words and data on the screen were moulding into one pile of unintelligible information. You put the datapad down for a minute and rubbed your eyes as you huffed a tired breath from your lungs. You stretched your neck and adjusted your posture but before you picked the datapad back up, a faint chirping caught your ears.

You swivelled in your chair to see the communications light flashing and you knew you weren’t supposed to be hearing from Echo any time soon. So, when you patched the encrypted message through and untangled it to find coordinates to the moon just outside of Ryloth, you knew there was only one other person who could’ve sent it.

You jumped out of your chair and cleared the steps of the Marauder in one leap before you sprinted to find Hunter and Wrecker.

--

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked urgently as he saw you come running towards them.

You shook your head as you glanced between them. Your breath was heavy from the running but also from excitement as you said, “It’s Omega.”

--

“Look, I hate to be the one to say it, but what if this message is a trap?” Wrecker broached carefully as the ship flew through hyperspace.

“Who else would know those codes?” You disputed.

“But if the Empire has her…”

“If it’s a trap, then we’ll get out of there but if it is her… we need to be there, Wrecker.” Hunter said as the ship disengaged from hyperspace, and he entered the landing cycle. There was no sign of another ship yet, but he opened the door anyway.

“There’s no one here.” Wrecker murmured, wringing his own hands anxiously.

“Then we wait.” You said calmly though your own heart was pounding.

--

“The Empire will be able to track this vessel. We need to ditch it.” Crosshair advised as he entered the cockpit after getting rid of the hat and face covering that he had donned back in Lau.

“We will. I’m heading to a remote location, and I sent a coded transmission for Hunter and Wrecker and (Y/N) to meet us there.” Omega responded. She only hoped you’d be with them too.

Now that this reunion was approaching ever closer, he found himself unprepared for what was to happen next. “Omega. It’s- it’s been months. You don’t know if they’re still ali-”

“They’ll be there.” Omega interrupted sharply.

The ship exited hyperspace and as she peered out the window, she saw the welcomed sight of the Marauder waiting there.

Omega dashed down the ship’s steps but paused as she saw no immediate sign of any of you.

--

A few hours had passed but there was still no sign of the ship and nerves were starting to get the better of you all.

Hunter had begun pacing the length of the cockpit, you had not stopped fidgeting with your vibroblade and alternated between that and examining the hilt of your lightsaber, and Wrecker was busying himself around the rest of the ship.

You saw the uneasy expression on Hunter’s face, and you pulled yourself together enough to be there for him. You caught his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “Just wait, take a breath. She’ll be here, Hunter. I know it.”

“But-” He broke off as he heard the sound of a ship landing and a whole different type of nerves overtook him.

Wrecker made the first move to look outside and what he saw filled him with pure joy. “Now there’s a sight!”

Take your time. You caressed Hunter’s cheek with a comforting and utterly relieved smile before you ran outside to join Wrecker.

Hunter braced his hands on the back of the pilot’s chair. He needed a minute to gather himself. This was the moment he had been seeking out for months but part of him couldn’t quite believe it was happening.

--

“Wrecker!” Omega cried in relief as she ran towards him and let him pick her up.

“I wasn’t even sure your message was real!” Wrecker said with a happy laugh as he held her close.

“I knew you’d show up.” Omega closed her eyes and let the comfort of his strong hold overtake her.

“We wouldn’t have missed it.”

Omega opened her eyes to the sound of your voice, and she smiled brightly as she saw you standing just behind him.

You knelt down with your arms open as Wrecker lowered her.

Omega fell into your embrace and nuzzled into your shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if- I thought you might’ve been-” She pulled away with a teary sniff.

You tilted your head as you tenderly wiped away the tears that had slid down her cheek and stroked a hand through her hair, the longer length of it a painful reminder of how much time had truly passed. “I’m right here, nothing happened to me.” You didn’t need to worry her about past events right now- that rehashing undoubtedly would come up later- but this current moment was something to be celebrated and not clouded by anything else.

Omega went to clarify what she meant but Wrecker’s words stopped her.

“We crossed the galaxy four times looking for you.” Wrecker revealed, wiping his own tears away.

“Five.”

Omega glanced past you as she heard Hunter’s voice and the sight of him created a feeling of pure elation that she wasn’t sure she would never experience again.

“But you’re the one who found us.” Hunter said with a smile from the doorway of the Marauder.

Omega started to run towards him.

Hunter darted down the steps two at a time and came to his knees as he held his arms out to her.

Your heart swelled and the emotions of the moment got stuck in your throat. That sight had been one you had been waiting to see for quite some time. You sensed and visibly saw how relaxed and content he looked, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Wrecker put a friendly arm around your shoulder as you both go to your feet, and he saw your reaction to their reunion. He too felt himself getting caught up in it all. Finally, things were looking up.

“We missed you, kid. We never stopped searching.” Hunter said affectionately and as he tightened his hold on her and felt her reciprocate, for the first time since Ord Mantell, he felt truly at peace. He pulled away but kept his hands on her shoulders, “But how did you escape?”

Omega hesitated before saying, “I had help.”

Hunter looked past her to see… well to see his brother descend the stairs of the ship, but what hit him was far more complicated than the relief he had been experiencing a mere second before.

You all followed his eyes and whatever happiness and lightness that had been surrounding you all immediately vanished and was replaced by a palpable tension as you all faced the clone that walked down the steps.

Your hand automatically came to cover your lightsaber.

Omega gaze darted between you all and she saw the shift in body language as well as the serious and distrusting expressions on all of you. It appeared she may have miscalculated as to how this smoothly this particular reunion would go.

“We can do this now and remain by a ship the Empire will be currently tracking, or we can get out of here.” Crosshair said simply.

Hunter placed a guiding hand on Omega’s back and jutted his head to Crosshair as the rest of you boarded the ship.

Crosshair followed them, with Batcher now close on his heels and the Marauder entered hyperspace once more.

--

Omega stood in the middle of the hallway. None of you had so much as made a sound or really moved since the ship had begun the journey back to Pabu and it was getting rather unbearable. “So… I got a dog! Her name’s Batcher.” Omega said with an uneasy laugh into the dead silence of the ship, but it got no reaction. The four of you continued your standoff with Crosshair positioned down the hall of the ship closest to her room/gun turret and the rest of you closer to the cockpit. All of you had your arms crossed and you, Hunter and Wrecker looked particularly guarded. She took that resulting quiet as her cue to perhaps let you all have it out right now. She took a seat and called Batcher over to sit by her feet and waited.

It was Crosshair who broke the silence first, “Where’s Echo?”

“Working with Rex.” Hunter replied briskly.

Crosshair released a soft hum in acknowledgement before he asked the question that he’d been putting off since he’d deduced it from how Omega had talked to him all those months on Tantiss, “And Tech… he’s- he’s really gone?”

“Yeah. It-” Hunter released a sad sigh, “It was a mission gone wrong and he- he sacrificed himself for us so we could get away. He knew what he was doing but… yes, he’s gone.”

Crosshair’s jaw tightened. He knew exactly what mission Hunter was referring to. “So much for Plan 88.” He couldn’t help but say, the grief and tense situation getting the better of him.

“What?” You remarked with a glare.

“You were supposed to stay hidden.”

“We couldn’t do that.” Wrecker said grimly. “Not when it looked like you were in trouble.”

“We couldn’t leave you behind, Crosshair.” Hunter added quietly, some of the fight leaving him as he recalled the events of Eriadu.

“Why? You never had trouble doing that before.” Crosshair retorted harshly.

“Excuse me?” You growled.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t-” Hunter came to stand in front of you, but you stepped past him.

You couldn’t help it, the protectiveness that hit you was all you could act on. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to throw your choices back in his face. You were offered a different path, but you decided the Empire was where you wanted to be. And yet, despite all of that, the moment we found out you needed us, there was no real alternative. We never knew what had happened to you, but we didn’t need to. All we knew was that you were in trouble. We all knew the risks of ignoring that plan… Tech knew the risks. Don’t you dare-”

Crosshair wasn’t prepared to explain what happened to him yet, so he kept up with his provocation instead, “You want to talk about risks? What are you playing at staying around with them?”

Hunter and Wrecker both looked sharply towards Crosshair.

Your posture stiffened. “I don’t know what-”

“I may have been out of action but I’m not blind. If the lightsaber on your belt didn’t give it away, the wanted poster I just saw sure as hell did.” Crosshair spat as he flung it towards you.

You unfurled the paper, and your breathing became irregular saw this was one of the more detailed wanted ads that had been circulated. You crumpled it back up and then glanced to Omega who could only offer an apologetic grimace that she couldn’t warn you earlier, “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

You looked back to the clone, “Crosshair, I-”

“You’re a Jedi and that wasn’t something you felt the need to share?”

“Every day.” You said tightly, “But I couldn’t chance something happening-”

“Well, something’s happened now, hasn’t it?” Crosshair bit back angrily. “Do you have any idea the danger you’ve put us in? Do you even care? You’d be doing us a favour by leaving.”

Even Omega joined Wrecker in shaking her head at him this time.

“Crosshair.” Hunter cautioned as he saw the guilt and shame that flashed across your face as your mask of composure slipped. “She’s not going anywhere. We’ve handled it so far.”

“You don’t know what the Empire is capable or what she is. I read what she’s done, and they won’t stop-”

“We’ve got it handled.” Wrecker repeated again as he noticed the way your shoulders started to heave.

Your jaw clenched. “You weren’t there. You don’t know-”

“I was there on Devaron.” Crosshair snapped. “I was there when you decided to join us. I was there when you decided to spend every day lying about what you are.”

“Crosshair.” Hunter warned again and there was no mistaking the protectiveness in his tone or his stance now.

Crosshair picked up on Hunter’s reaction, but he wasn’t to be dissuaded. “You want to judge my decisions, but you betrayed-”

“You don’t get to talk about betrayal, Crosshair.” Hunter interjected coldly as he came to stand by your side.

You only let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I made my choices in the beginning but when would you have liked me to tell you, Crosshair? On Kaller? But would that have been during or after your attempts to kill the Padawan? Or perhaps you would’ve preferred it on Kamino when Tarkin was there, and you were talking about how great the Empire was and how the Jedi were traitors and what happened to them was justified? Or would you have liked to have a sit down during one of the many occasions you were already actively trying to kill us? Tell me, when should I have entrusted you with this part of me?”

This time he didn’t have a response for you, he just shifted uneasily on his feet and glanced down at the floor.

You continued to speak but there was a distinct sadness to your voice now, “I wished I had been honest with all of you from the start. Truly I do. But after everything that’s happened, I’m glad you’ve only just found out because looking at you now, knowing what I do, I can’t be certain that if you had known what I was on Kaller, that you wouldn’t have tried to kill me too.”

Crosshair went to speak but found that he couldn’t immediately offer the reassurance that was needed.

“You’re our brother, Crosshair, and you’re welcome to stay on Pabu with us but don’t expect any of this to be easy.” Hunter said, placing his hand on your back in support.

“He helped me get out of Tantiss. He’s different now.” Omega remarked quietly.

Wrecker grunted and nodded towards his brother, but you and Hunter made no such moves, instead you both retreated further into the cockpit.

You sat in one of the passenger seats and stared at the paper again as you read the painful reminders of how you’d acted when you’d been separated from them. He’s right, you know.

“No, he’s not.” Hunter disagreed firmly as he knelt before you and untangled the wrinkled piece of paper from your hands. He paid it no attention as he threw it away. He came back and placed his hands on your shoulders as he crouched before you. “Are you alright?”

You breathed deeply and nodded. And you?

Hunter also nodded before he got to his feet and sat in the seat across from you.

--

“So, when did this happen?” Crosshair asked, gesturing to the two of you. The way you both were behaving wasn’t totally different to how things had been in the months before Kaller, but there was a definite shift that marked something more official. There had been a lot he’d missed out on.

“After Tipoca City.” Omega informed him as Batcher eagerly greeted them.

Wrecker enthusiastically petted the hound as he moved closer to Crosshair and Omega. “About time, right?” He added with a hint of humour in his voice, but the stern looks from the two of you had him clearing his throat awkwardly.

Crosshair simply hummed in reply and found himself wondering just quite how difficult things were about to be.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @nightmonkeysstuff, @arctrooper69

[hellfirenacht]

Dress Code 2

Summary: A few weeks ago, you and Eddie got over a spat over Hellfire shirts. Now that the dust has settled, you decide to challenge his rulings.

Tags: sfw, Eddie Munson x Reader if you squint, idiots in love but they won't admit it yet, afab!reader, reader is mentioned wearing her own Hellfire shirt

Dress Code Part One

Eddie sat at his throne on the far end of the long table, his DM screen propped up to hide the mess of notes that were scribbled on various pieces of papers that he had grabbed throughout the week. Eddie was never one to be organized, even with the things he was most passionate about. Whenever a new idea for the campaign struck him he’d grab the nearest piece of paper to take down the idea before he forgot; be it the back of a barely passed math test, a napkin that had been shoved in the dashboard of his car, or (in one case) in the margins of Dustin’s report card. 

Of course, even as scattered as his notes were, there was no doubting that his campaigns always ran smoothly. Eddie always seemed to remember what note he put where, and there was minimal pausing to search for papers. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to keep his club in line. Outside this room he might be a fuck up, a coward, a guy from the wrong end of the tracks but in the Hellfire Club? He was in charge. He made the rules, and everyone knew it and dared not question him. Eddie had made his claim on being fair, yet not taking any flack from anyone in the club and that was how he liked it. 

Everyone was to show up on time every week, anyone who didn’t show up would miss out. If they were late, there would be a penalty. If they did not come wearing the shirts that they had spent a good two weeks on, there would be a penalty. Life may have chaos, but at least in Hellfire, the chaos was his to control. 

At least, that’s how it was supposed to be. 

As Eddie hit the lights to set the ambiance, he heard a door slam and the sound of giggling. He leaned back on his throne and waited for you to make your way down to the table. Your laughter was unmistakable, and he knew you well enough now to know that this particular giggle meant trouble for him. 

You were early, but you were always early. You always hated being late and enjoyed helping set up the table for everyone and chatting with Eddie before the game started. Eddie had to admit, you might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he was always glad that you joined, even when you made questionable decisions in the game that made him want to pull his hair out. 

He thought that you were joking at first; a very cute girl wanting to play Dungeons and Dragons with him and his crew? It seemed doubtful. You weren’t the first girl to be in Hellfire, Ronnie had been his right hand woman for the four years that she had been part of the club. Even some of the subs that occasionally popped in were girls. He’d never forget the times Sinclair’s little sister showed up to sub in, or even weirder, Nancy Wheeler had appeared at his table, while Mike explained that she owed him a huge favor. 

Honestly, Eddie might have invited the Wheeler sister back if she hadn’t scared him a little.

Then you showed up during your second week at Hawkins high, walked right up to him at lunch in front of everyone in school and asked to join Hellfire. Eddie really didn’t believe it at first, he  had been approached many times by different people jokingly asking to join. Eddie accepted every time, knowing that most times they wouldn’t even bother showing up for the meeting. Anyone who did show up would be accepted as long as they went through initiation. 

Eddie and the rest of Hellfire put any new players on trial in a grueling one-shot that tested their abilities and knowledge on the game. With each roll of the dice you had proved that you were here out of a genuine love for the game, even when your character died you acted out a heart wrenching death, no one in the club could say no to them joining the party. 

You now stood before him, and he stared back from over the DM screen stone-face despite your mischievous smile. Even in the dim lights there was a spark in your eyes that usually spelled trouble for Eddie. This time he didn’t even need to ask what you had done, when it was staring right at him on your chest. 

“Absolutely not.” Eddie said firmly.

You only laughed harder. 

“What, you don’t like it? And I worked so hard on this shirt!” You tried to keep your face straight but there was no denying how funny you thought the situation was. 

To your credit the shirt DID say Hellfire Club on it, but the difference was that the sleeves were now pink instead of black, and the logo had been distorted into something that was... he assumed to be cute? The weapons and demon head had been color shifted to pastel and now decorated with hearts. The letters were rounded like the notes of a teenage girl and the demonhead had hearts in its eyes. 

“I made it clear that we had a dress code for members-” Eddie started to argue. He already had a sinking feeling that this was not going to pan out in his favor. 

“And I’m following it!” you argued. “I’m wearing a Hellfire Club shirt. That was what you made clear, right? That as long as I was wearing it, I wouldn’t face a penalty. Besides, this shirt breathes better and it’s so hot in here.”

“I think it suits me.” You continued with at shit eating grin, stretching the bottom of your shirt out to show off the design more. “Plus now I have two shirts! That means I have back up!” 

Eddie didn’t flinch, knowing that you were reminding him of the time you’d almost overheated in the traditional shirt when you had been sick and the a/c had been out. Nope, he wasn’t gonna fold because he still felt a little bad about the situation. No way, he could be just as stubborn as you and he would hold his ground.

Eddie was always in control of the Hellfire club. 

Eddie was in control. 

“This is Hellfire Club.” He said, staring you down from his chair. “This is a club where we play a fantasy game and everyone in school thinks we’re some freak cult. There’s no way in hell you’re wearing that.”

“Come on, Eddie, look at how hard I worked on this! Big, bad, Eddie the Freak is so heartless he’s gonna look me in the eye and tell me that this shirt I worked so hard on isn’t the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” You leaned over his DM screen and gave him your widest puppy eyes and pouted in a way that should have made Eddie laugh in your face. 

It should have, but the way the candles made your eyes sparkle made his stomach twist in a funny way, despite trying to remain in control of this situation. He knew that soon the rest of club would file in, and he didn’t need them to suspect that when you smiled at him like that it did things to Eddie’s heart that he would prefer not to think about. He didn’t have time to think about that dammit, he was about to start the campaign!

You did look cute and that was half the problem, he already had problems keeping you out of his head and imagining you wearing his Hellfire shirt instead, and honestly he preferred that thought. 

Why did you always have to challenge him at every opportunity? You’d poke at his campaign, ask questions that he wouldn’t have thought to answer, challenged his rulings and the world he created. The others never dared to question him the way you had, but it had always come from a place of passion for the story he told. You could be frustrating, but he found himself grateful for it. Most times.

“Think of it like challenging authority.” You said, leaning against the table, your eyes never leaving his.. “We’re already freaks here in school, why force us into your version of conformity?” 

“The authority you’re challenging is your DMs’.” Eddie said, but he smiled despite himself. He stood up standing just a little closer to you than was necessary, looking over your shirt and trying not to look like he was oogling your chest. (Which, admittedly, he did commit the site to memory). It was well made (the shirt), and it was clear even in the dim light that this was for Hellfire and not any other club. It fit you in an odd way. 

The others would be coming down soon, and he needed to make a decision now. The fate of his club’s integrity was at stake. 

“Before you make your decision, Munster,” You said, holding up a hand. “I also come bearing gifts for my oh so gracious Dungeon Master.” 

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about being called Eddie Munster, but at least when you called him by the characters name, it wasn’t filled with the venom that usually came with Munson. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms. “And by that you mean a bribe?”

“What else would I mean?” You said brightly, rummaging through your backpack.

Before him, Eddie was presented with cold Mountain Dew and a rather large bag of beef jerky. 

Ah yes, the one weakness to any good Dungeon Master. 

Snacks. 

How had you managed to get a cold one? Had you run to the gas station right after the bell rang and then booked it back here?

There was a moment of silence between the two of you as Eddie stared you down and at your offerings. Your face faltered for a moment, a hint of worry that maybe you had really done something wrong. Your playful smile drooped just slightly and there was that spark that flickered with doubt for a split second. 

Dammit.

Eddie could handle Dustin and Mike, they were under his wing and being tough on them would make them stronger against the world. But you? You were strong in your own way. You were so unapologetically yourself that sometimes it made him doubt why you’d want to spend time with him outside of Hellfire. You didn’t come to Hellfire as a social outcast, you didn’t come because you had nowhere else to go, and you didn’t come here for protection from the assholes of the school. You came here because you loved the game, loved this club. If anyone else had shown up like this he would have given them a penalty for this stunt. 

But you weren’t anyone else. You were you and you cared about Hellfire just as much as Eddie did. 

Fuck. 

Eddie took hold of the snacks. 

“If Hellfire needs to show up during some sort of school assembly, you’re wearing the original design. If it’s gonna be in the year book, it’s going to be in the original design. Do you understand?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. 

The light in your eyes lit up brighter than ever and, Jesus H Christ it he was fucking weak for that look. 

“Thank you!” You laughed and threw your arms around Eddie’s middle. He tensed for a moment before relaxing and patting you on the head. 

“If the others catch you like this they’ll think I’m taking bribes for more than just the shirt.” He said. 

“So we can get inspiration if we hug you?” you asked. “Damn, you should have said that sooner.” 

Eddie sighed as you pulled back. “I know this is you fucking with me. I’m not going easy on you tonight.” he accused. 

“My safe word is ‘sprinkles’, babe.” you teased before taking your seat. From above he heard the chattering of Dustin, Lucas, and Gareth as they came down the stairs. Eddie moved back to his throne and took a heavy seat as his eyes followed you to your usual spot at the other end of the table. 

Eddie was still in control. 

Mostly. 

----

Notes: Kawaii Hellfire shirt was made and designed by Kumalatte on Instagram, sadly it has been discontinued.

[defectivevillain]

home where

pairing: Wally Darling/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar place. The only other occupant, a friendly man named Wally, seems to think it’s home. …You disagree.

word count: 1.5k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical derealization

author's notes: I know virtually nothing about Welcome Home and its characters. It seems really cool, but I just didn’t have enough energy to commit myself to another fandom when I first wrote this (and I still feel the same). Maybe I’ll come back to WH and do a deeper dive someday! Who knows. I certainly don’t.

On a related note, I’ve decided I want to do some sort of Halloween oneshot collection this October. I have quite a few drafts for various movies and series that I wrote up a few months ago in preparation for this Halloween… and when I stumbled upon this draft, I realized it would be a great way to kick things off. So yeah! I will admit, without shame, that many (if not all) of the works in this "collection" will be slightly unfinished (aka less detailed than I may want them to be). But I still wanted these fics posted, and I know that they’ll likely just rot in my docs forever otherwise.

Your eyes are stinging. You rub at them roughly, letting out a quiet sigh. It’s been a pretty long day. You stumble through your nighttime routine with a bit less finesse than usual, counting down the seconds until you can collapse into bed. When you finally get back to your room, you move to turn off the lights—only to realize you forgot to close your laptop. The screen’s vividness immediately sears into your eyelids. Blinking tears from your eyes, you close it and head back to your bed to go to sleep. 

Fortunately, you’re tired enough to find sleep rather easily. But even when your eyes slip shut, remnants of that bright light from moments ago burn through your vision. 

When you wake the next morning, sunlight stretches through the gaps in your curtains—illuminating your room in a dim glow. You blink several times to make your eyes feel less dry, before taking a deep breath and pushing yourself up to a sitting position. The bedspread is weirdly scratchy. You look down at it, entirely perplexed when you find a multi-color patchwork quilt instead of your normal comforter. You run a hand along it, trying to rationalize how you could’ve gone to sleep and woken up in a bed with different dressings. 

But your bedspread isn’t the only thing that’s changed—as you glance about the room, you realize that everything looks slightly different. The posters and photos adorning the walls are unusually colorful, and any harsh corners on your furniture have been smoothed over into neat curves. And as your hands investigate the quilt on your bed, you realize that you look strange too. The mirror on the wall casts a familiar reflection, but with softened edges and vivid coloring. Your clothes are far too bright than you remember them being—the same goes for your eyes. 

After a lot of exploring, you come to the unfortunate conclusion that your surroundings are drenched in technicolor. Even more surprising and inexplicable is the unshakeable fact that you’re not dreaming. Several hard pinches to the skin on your forearm cement that unfortunate reality. 

You step outside of your living space, only to find that the surrounding town is just as blindingly bright-colored. Vivid trees in neon colors surround the various buildings. With a churning stomach, you walk through the waving grass and desperately look for a clue to explain your unfamiliar surroundings. Some time later, you’ve explored the entire area—only to yield no new information. 

It’s only when you approach the outskirts of the humble town that you hear a voice. “Where are you going?”

You freeze. For a moment, you contemplate ignoring this new presence; then you realize this may be the only way for you to understand what’s going on. You turn around to find yourself staring at a man with yellow fleece skin and blue hair styled elegantly above his head. He wears a bright blue shirt and multi-colored pants. Looking at him makes your head spin. 

“I’m trying to go home,” You respond, watching as the sidewalk stretches into the distance. You shove your hands in your pockets to quell some of your restless energy. It doesn’t work as well as you’d like. 

“This is Home,” the newcomer frowns. He looks confused but sympathetic.

“My home, I mean,” you clarify. Surely, if this guy is a local, he should know you’re a stranger. You don’t belong here. 

“This is your home,” he insists. For a moment, his voice almost sounds forceful. “Our home!” He then chirps, as if attempting to distract you from his brief slip in composure.

You stare at him for a moment, unable to shake the strange feeling of foreboding running down your spine. “Who are you?” You finally relent and ask. 

“I’m Wally Darling,” he responds. “Who are you?” Wally peers at you curiously. 

You return his gaze, struggling to find an answer to the question. Who… are you? What’s your name? And, most importantly, why are you here?

You try to deflect. “Where is everyone?” You ask, looking around at the quiet town. It feels weirdly empty. There’s almost something… sinister about it: this cute little town, entirely vacant. How can something so colorful be so lifeless?

“They’re sleeping, I think.” Wally responds smoothly, breaking you out of your thoughts. You swear you see his smile falter for a second, but the expression vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. 

Adrenaline courses you at the thought of being trapped in this unfamiliar place with no one but this stranger for company. You try to take another step towards the forest, but it feels as if some invisible force is fighting against you. You’re then shoved backwards, colliding with Wally in the process. 

“Easy there,” he smiles, steadying you with hands on your shoulders. The gesture doesn’t reach his eyes. 

You nod and quickly excuse yourself from the conversation, citing your growing headache as justification. In your defense, you do have a rather painful headache growing to inhabit your temple and stretch through your cheekbones. Wally seems to sense that you’re telling the truth, because he just smiles and bids you good day, after one final remark welcoming you to the neighborhood. You continue to explore the town throughout the remainder of the day, despite the uncanny feeling of eyes on your back. 

As time passes, you start to notice that there’s a friendly sort of malice in the way Wally carries himself. He’s a bundle of contradictions: misery behind a paper-thin smile; glee behind a disparaging frown. He’s always lingering in the corner of your vision: when you’re getting up in the morning; when you’re taking a walk. He tells you virtually nothing about himself, yet he seems eager to learn anything and everything about you. You can’t help but be wary around him. 

But somehow, he wants to be friends with you. Wally’s idea of friendship seems to bleed into something far past platonic, though. He regularly makes remarks about how his life has changed for the better since your arrival; his eyes gleam with something close to envy when you talk about your friends outside this colorful town. You don’t want to overanalyze things, but then you notice the rapt attention he pays you when you speak. Then you notice the freshly trimmed flowers in the vase on your front porch—the one you’ve walked past every day without a second thought. 

Although Wally’s behavior is a bit puzzling, he dominates your thoughts for a different reason. Safe to say, he unnerves you sometimes. And you can’t shake the conviction that he’s hiding things from you. Sometimes he’ll look at the other houses with nostalgia in his eyes; he’ll reference people you’ve never heard of and then clam up when you ask about them. 

He greets you every morning, without fail. The first few times, you smile and wave back. But as time passes and you still can’t find a way out of this place, you start to ignore him. However, this behavior only seems to encourage Wally—as he begins to tag along on your morning walks. 

And it only takes you so long to break. After all, he’s the only other form of human (?) contact in this place. You need to talk to someone about something—anything—and Wally is your only choice. It’s only natural that you stop resisting. Not to mention, Wally is a superb listener. He’s almost too good at it. You get the feeling that he would let you talk for hours, content remaining silent and digesting all the information you give him. You’ve made sure not to reveal too many private details about your life—your real life, outside of this town—but Wally seems to know you anyway. He knows things about you that you’ve never told anyone; sometimes, he even references conversations you think you’ve had with friends over direct messages. 

Ultimately, it doesn’t take you long to come to the conclusion that Wally is the key to leaving this place. You’re not deluded enough to think he’ll let you leave, but you can’t deny that he knows more than he’s letting on. He is far from innocent in this whole affair. He must be pulling the strings from somewhere, somehow. You can only dismiss these thoughts as paranoid for so long, before the dots begin to connect and you’re faced with incontrovertible evidence of his malevolence.  

And while you relented and allowed Wally to join you on your morning walks, you never stepped foot inside his residence or took him up on his offers to spend more time together. 

At least, not until now, when you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Wally’s home with your heart racing in your chest. Despite the dread prickling along your skin, you extend a hand and ring the doorbell. You don’t understand what’s happening here, but you know one thing for certain: Wally is at the center of it. 

The door creaks open ominously. Wally stands in the doorway, an easy smile plastered across his face. You both know it isn’t genuine, and within moments, it starts to melt and slip off his face. A crooked grin shudders over his lips. “Hey, neighbor!” He says brightly. A thick tension descends across the space. A stiff breeze ruffles your clothes and sends chills down your arms. Wally’s dark eyes almost seem to engulf you; there’s a faint ringing sound echoing in your ears. “I’ve been expecting you.”

thanks for reading! <3

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[lcksndkys]

Pairing: hobi x reader

Rating: NSFW

Genre: dancer!hobi x bff reader

Word count: ~4.1k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex on a kitchen counter (bffs who trust each other, but still should wrap it before you tap it!!), brief masterbation, nipple play (cus duh, it’s me)

A/N: When I wrote Permission, I thought I’d leave it semi open ended, but there were a few people who wanted some closure ( @btsarmy9593​ @junghelioseok ) and I was happy to continue this story!! S/o to my people @jinpanman and @wwilloww for the song recs and the figurative pom poms!! If you liked it, feel free to talk to me about it!!

01, 02

The next few days had passed without word- carrier pigeon, smoke signal, or otherwise- from Hoseok. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’d admit that it appears neither of you are willing to revisit the events that had transpired in the small studio any time soon. You still can’t believe Hoseok kissed you as part of his audition routine. A year spent romanticizing what it would be like, and he ruined it so recklessly. 

You had heard from Seokjin, a mutual friend, that Hoseok nailed his audition and was offered a job at The Pied Piper. Bitterly, you wonder who he locked lips with during his routine, and immediately banish the thought from your mind. 

According to your sources (read: Jin), Hoseok has been rehearsing choreography with the rest of the cast over the last few weeks. Part of you knows that he’s busy, and the other part wonders if he’s just using his busy schedule as a means to avoid you. 

Either way, it doesn’t stop you from missing him. Conversations have been short with Hoseok replying with one worded responses and no attempts to keep conversation flowing.

Logically, you know that you could confront him. Half of you is dying to, but the petty side of you refuses to cave first. 

You’ve spent the past few weeks burying yourself in work and chores. You almost forget the feeling of his body grinding against you, his hand wrapped around your neck, his lips on yours. 

Your skin prickles at the memory. 

I wasn’t talking about you. 

What was that supposed to mean? Who was he talking about? 

Hope is a dangerous thing, and you refuse to believe what Hoseok was possibly implying. Because if his affections were surface level, it would crush you. 

You dive back into your work, taking on as many projects as possible to keep from dwelling on thoughts of Hoseok. 

At work the following morning, your phone vibrates with a notification breaking you from your muddled thoughts. 

You feel around your desk for your phone tapping the screen to see that Jin has texted you.

[11:21am] WWH: it’s friyay. 

[11:22am] WWH: We’re goin to The Pied Piper tonight!! Pick you up at 9 ;)

Groaning, you discreetly check your periphery noting that your colleagues appear to be too absorbed in their work to watch you try to decline a very insistent friend.

[11:24am] You: No, Jin… I don’t really feel well :(

Several minutes pass with no further pleading from Jin, but then your phone buzzes again.

[11:34am] Yoongi: If you don’t come to Hoseok’s opening night, he’ll be crushed.

[11:39am] Yoongi: Come with us. Please

You sigh. It’s not often that Yoongi begs, but you know he’s right. Although things between you and Hoseok have been tense lately, you know you can’t miss the opportunity to support your best friend. 

[11:41am] You: Fine.

[11:42am] Yoongi: Atta girl

The Pied Piper isn’t what you thought it would be. It’s less of a strip club and more of a small concert venue with tables and booths of various sizes surrounding a raised stage. You let Jin lead you towards your seats with Yoongi following close behind.

To your dismay, the small table you arrive at is frighteningly close to the front row where you’re sure Hoseok could see you. 

Taking your seat flanked by your two friends, you cross your legs in the attempt to tamp down the nervous bouncing of your foot.

To your right, Yoongi places a calming hand on your knee to stop your fidgeting. 

“It’s just Hoseok,” he reminds you. His knowing eyes stare deep into yours. 

You take a deep breath and let Yoongi’s words soothe you.

On your left, Jin is trying to talk over you to Yoongi about checking out the strippers on the other side of The Pied Piper after the show.

Just after 9:30pm, the lights begin to dim, setting your nerves alight.

Soft music starts as a dozen or so men saunter through the crowd to take the stage. 

You feel the swoosh of air behind you as one of the dancers passes by the back of your seat. Coming around to the front of your table, you’re mesmerized by the fluid way his body moves. Blond hair slicked back, he dances in front of your table for the remainder of the song and sends you a flirty wink. 

Mesmerized by him, you watch as he spreads his legs in a deep squat, arms crossed over his chest as he thrusts his hips to the beat. At the end of the song, he blows you a kiss with his full lips, turning to focus his attention to a different table of patrons.

You feel a pointy elbow nudge against your side and you turn sharply to your left to see Jin’s smug smile as he waggles his eyebrows suggestively at you. 

Rolling your eyes, you focus back on the show.

The men have gathered around on stage as the intro song fades. Once in formation, another song starts up. More upbeat, the men break out into the next part of the choreography, each following the routine to complement his own style. 

Some have started unbuttoning their shirts to show more skin.

Your eyes dart around, stalling on a particularly handsome dancer as he rakes back his long, dark hair with a heavily tattooed hand while swaying his hips to the music. Slowly unbuttoning his black shirt and swaying his hips and thick thighs, he flashes his doe eyes and muscles to the crowd, looking equal parts boyish and lethal. 

Your gaze follows his powerful body as he moves across stage, undressing his upper body to reveal the smooth, inked planes of his torso. He throws his shirt somewhere behind the audience (probably for staff to pick up) and you watch him until he passes by a familiar figure. 

Dressed in a white button down with sleeves rolled up his forearms, Hoseok catches your eyes with his dancing. Your breath stutters in your chest, skin heating in memory of his hips grinding against yours. 

Trying to focus on a different dancer, you settle on watching Blondie while he drops to his hands and knees humping the floor slowly and sensually to the beat of the song. You remember this move when Hoseok performed his audition piece for you, and you can’t help but recall the way desire had pooled deep and hot in your belly. Watching this beautiful man dance tonight, while pleasing, does not move your heart. 

As the night progresses, the dancers move seamlessly through the choreography jumping from one routine to the next. Most of the dancers are now topless, in nothing but fitted jeans with underwear bands peeking up over their beltlines.

You try to keep your eyes off Hoseok. 

Try.

Until the group breaks formation to disperse into the audience for a more close up look at their, ahem, dancing skills. Hoots and hollers fill the air as the men spread out and start giving lap dances to their audience. 

At your left, Jin cackles loudly at the sight of Tattoos straddling a middle aged woman against her chair. His prominent front teeth are on display as he smiles at her, leaning down to whisper in her ear over the booming music. Seconds later, you see her nod her consent enthusiastically while he presses her hands against his rippling pectorals. 

Hoseok has been watching you watch Tattoos with a frown. 

Distracted, you don’t see him rapidly approach your table until he stands before you. Of course Jin bought tickets in Hoseok’s section. 

You tense up and think about running, but Yoongi’s calming hand briefly returns to your knee, encouraging you to stay. It’s just Hoseok, you remind yourself. 

In front of your table, Hoseok locks eyes with you, slowly starting to undress his upper body. Leaving his shirt open, he pushes his sleeves further up his elbows revealing his sinewy forearms.  

Although the room is dark, you can feel the flush of blood creep up your neck and face at Hobi’s intense stare. You swallow down a whimper as he grips the back of your chair and spreads his thighs wide over yours, hovering several inches over you. There’s no contact between his body and yours, yet you can feel his warmth.

“May I give you a dance?” he asks huskily into your ear.

You shiver at the contact as your body betrays you. Feeling your nod of consent, Hoseok grins and slowly drops his weight onto your lap. 

Bare witness to my evolution

Violent moans, untamed contusions

We’re not really here it’s all Illusions

Vaguely you hear and feel Jin howling in delight at the sight unfolding next to him.

Holding you close, Hoseok pulls your hands off your lap to wrap around his waist while he grinds his hips against you. He tucks his face into your neck, dragging his perfectly sloped nose against the sensitive skin there. At this distance, you can’t see his face and pray that he can’t feel the bounding of your pulse.

You grab me there your fingers sink

We breathe, we tense, no time to think

I take you 'til you’re on the brink

Then we dive off the edge in sync

Sliding up and down your body, Hoseok encourages your hands to wander across his hips and lower back.

You bite your lip and allow your fingers to ghost their way under his open shirt, up along the ridges of his ribs and down to his ass, feeling the way the muscle contracts as he moves against you. 

Make love, fuck

Lick me up

Petals, pluck

Drive me, clutch

You feel the rumbling in his chest as your wandering hands explore his body. 

Hoseok eagerly rolls his hips against yours to the beat of the song. Goosebumps litter your neck as he pants into your ear.  

What’s your pleasure, what’s my name?

Blend and merge until we’re same

Nothing much of us remains

As the song winds down, Hoseok pulls back from you to stare into your eyes. He gently removes your hand from his waistline and presses your palm into his chest- left of center- over his thrumming heart. 

Your breath catches in your throat at the look he gives you. Hand still trapped against his chest, all you can focus on is the pounding underneath your fingertips and the burning in his hooded eyes.

In this moment, there’s no strip club, no Jin or Yoongi, no audience or dancers. Everything fades away and it’s just you and Hoseok.

Until the song changes yet again and Hoseok dismounts from you without a second glance, swiftly moving on to the bachelorette party next to you. 

You can still feel the heat of his body as you watch Hoseok dance around them, hips thrusting wildly as he artfully maneuvers his body to the bass. He smiles at the blushing bride-to-be and her entourage.

Hoseok picks up her hand as if to inspect her engagement ring before pressing a kiss to her knuckles with a wink. He’s clearly flirting with her, but with the noise of the club, there’s no way to tell what he’s saying. 

Teeth clenched tight, you remind yourself you have no right to be jealous. 

Your gut wrenches at the sight of him wrapped around another woman as his body undulates against her. He backs off slightly only to pick up her legs, spreading them to wind around his waist to better grind against her. Peals of laughter ring out higher than the music. An unpleasant weight settles deep in your stomach as you watch Hoseok basically dry hump her.

There’s a brief lull in the song, barely long enough for Yoongi to hear the pained gasp that leaves your lips when he moves on to one of her friends.

The comforting hand on your arm prompts you to drag your watering eyes off Hoseok. You meet Yoongi’s furrowed brow. 

“Wait. Do you- ” he looks from you to Hoseok, and back again. His eyes widen as he rapidly deduces the reason for your sudden mood.

You quickly glance at Jin who is still busy watching Hoseok entertain the table of bachelorettes. 

Biting your lip to hold in your sniffling, you nod once up and down in quiet confirmation.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. 

Instead of relief, it feels like your chest caves to the pressure of admitting your feelings. It was easy to lie to yourself, but you don’t think you keep up the act now that Yoongi knows. 

Suddenly the club becomes unbearably stuffy. 

You lean over to Jin, raising your voice over the music. “I’m gonna go get some air,” you shout and quickly make a beeline for the exit.

With your back turned, you don’t see the pair of longing eyes follow your figure as you leave.

Outside, the air is crisp as it nips at your exposed skin. You take a few deep breaths letting the sharp air soothe the ache in your heart. Deciding you can’t stay and watch the rest of the show, you sent a text to Jin and Yoongi to let them know you’ve called an Uber to go home. 

Freshly showered and lying in bed, you browse through your work emails to keep your mind busy. You’re determined to fall asleep without the memory of Hoseok grinding against random women tonight. 

As the minutes tick by, your eyes grow heavy with sleep and you roll over to put your phone on your bedside table. 

Thump, thump. Thump. A firm fist pounds on your door insistently, ridding you of any drowsiness as adrenaline floods your system.

Tapping your phone, you see it’s much too late for any decent social visits. There are no missed notifications; nothing to suggest you may have a visitor tonight.

At your hesitance, the rapping continues more adamantly. 

You cautiously approach the front door and peer through the peephole.

Hoseok. 

Relief washes over you, followed closely by frustration. Weeks of near-silence and he shows up unannounced at your door at 2am??

Throwing open your door, you’re ready to send him away.

The words die on your tongue at the sight before you. Eyes downcast, hair messy. 

“I know it’s late, but can I stay?” he asks quietly. 

Your heart lurches in your chest as you swing the door wider and step aside to allow him entry. From the smell of his lightly floral shampoo you can tell he must’ve showered after the show. 

Your eyebrows raise in alarm when you note a slight wobble in his gait as he makes his way to your kitchen. He's clearly been drinking.

He pulls a glass from the cabinet and pours himself a cup of water. Taking a small sip, he nervously passes the glass back and forth between his hands. 

“I- uh- I went out with Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung after the show,” he explains. 

Arms folded over your chest, you nod in understanding. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’ve been an ass.”

There’s a tense moment as you both regard each other.

“Yeah it fucking sucks to have your best friend ignore your existence for weeks at a time” you retort.

He flinches at your harsh tone. “I just… I didn’t know how to be around you after… that.”

“After what? Your audition? Hobi, I don’t care that you want to dance in a strip show!” you lie easily through your teeth.

“It’s not the dancing,” he pauses to take a deep breath, steeling himself. “I meant… the kiss”

His adam’s apple bobs as he breaches the topic. “It wasn’t part of my audition routine. I kissed you because I wanted to. I want more” he whispers.

Eyes rounded in surprise, your mind is both loud and silent at the same time, short circuiting at his confession.

“And you kissed me back, but like, it didn’t seem like you were that into it and I just- I let you think it was part of the routine” he babbles on. 

“But- “

“I like you- really like you” he says earnestly. Fingers wrap tightly around his water, cutting to the chase.

“I had no idea,” you insist.

“I literally told you how I feel back when I practiced my audition piece for you” 

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t clear.” you bite back. 

“My kissing you wasn’t clear enough?” he shoots back with a quirked brow. 

You sputter. “I really thought it was part of your audition!” you exclaim.

“Forgive me for being old-fashioned, but I don’t often kiss women I’m not interested in,” he says, setting down his glass to take a few steps closer to you. 

Your head spins. “So, you’re still interested?” 

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m into you before you get it?” 

“Maybe one more time” you grin up at him suggestively.

Hands hovering over your waist, he smiles as he leans in, nose gently grazing yours as he breathes you in.

You tilt up chasing his lips when he suddenly pulls back.

“I need to know this isn’t just some fling for you. If we’re going to do this, it needs to be the real deal.” His eyes search yours and he must see what he’s looking for as he grins, dimples on full display.

Hand sliding up his chest and cupping his jaw, you hold him close. 

“I’ve liked you for months” you confess quickly. “It’s real, trust me” you say, pulling him back into you. You slot your lips against his, eager for another taste. Suckling gently on his lower lip, you feel his chest rumble with a growl as he presses into you with ardour.

Hoseok’s hands find their way around you, feverishly mapping out your body as he allows you to mold your mouths together. 

He immediately tilts his head, deepening the kiss. 

Your fingers pull at his dark strands and eagerly caress his neck. You feel the way his jaw moves as his mouth opens wider to send his tongue out to press into your mouth.  

His hands turn frantic, pawing at the curves he's been fantasizing about over the past couple of years. 

You let him push you up against the counter top as you continue kissing, his hips pinning you in place as his hands continue to greedily rub up and down your back and sides before slowly creeping up your front. 

"Can I?" he rasps, fingers staying below your ribs,waiting for your consent. 

"Please. I want you to touch me, Hobi" you beg. 

He growls at your enthusiasm and roughly cups your breasts. Even beneath the layers of clothing, he can feel the way your nipples pebble with desire. 

Pushing his hands aside, you reach down and pull your sweater and top up and over your head exposing your bare torso to him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hands returning to roll and pinch at your sensitive buds.

You shiver with need as he plays with your tits, enjoying the way pleasure shoots down to your cunt. 

Hands leaving your breasts, he swats at your bottom. “Up,” Hoseok commands.

Obediently, you hop up onto the counter top, careful to avoid his barely touched glass of water. He spreads your thighs to slot his body against you. Legs pulling him in closer, you feel the evidence of his arousal at your center as he presses his erection against your quickly dampening panties.

His arms wrap around you bringing your chest to his face and suckles your nipple into his hot, wet mouth. Moaning, you send both hands into his hair as he continues his erotic assault on your body.

Hoseok grinds his hips against your core as he laves equally at both tits, leaving your nipples perked and shining in his saliva. 

“On or over the counter,” he rasps.

“I want whatever you want,” you pant, desperate to feel him against you.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Can I take these off? I wanna see all of you” he pleads, tugging at the waistband of your sleep shorts.

Instead of responding, you push him back a step to slowly slide off your remaining clothing and scoot back on the counter top. You part your thighs giving him the perfect view of your glistening cunt. 

To entice him further, you slide a finger up and down your slick, swirling around your clit, and dipping into your sodden entrance.

“Holy shit, I want you so bad,” Hoseok groans with his eyes focused on the way you fuck yourself open with your fingers.

He allows himself a moment to enjoy the sight of you pleasuring yourself for him, studying the way you touch pussy. Having enough, Hoseok pulls your hand off yourself and wraps his lips around your digits, moaning at your taste. 

“Fuck me, Hobi, I’m ready,” you whimper.

Unable to hold back any longer, he growls, pulling you down from your perch and flipping you to face the countertop. With gentle pressure against your upper back, he encourages you down to your elbows, bending you forwards to present your cunt to him.

You hiss at the feeling of cold marble against your hardened nipples.

Distracted, you don’t hear the rustling of clothing as Hoseok tears himself free, eager to feel your skin against his. 

You gasp at the feeling of the blunt head of his cock sliding against your slit, bumping against your clit to send tingles of pleasure through you in waves. 

“Is this ok? I’m clean,” he promises.

You trust him.

“Me too. I’ve never had anyone bare,” you moan, pushing your hips back in the attempt to slide him into you.

“You want me, baby?” he asks one last time.

“Yes, Hobi, yes, just fuck me-” you whine, cut off when he takes his first stroke into your quivering walls, going slow so you feel every inch of him.

He thrusts gently a few times into your heat until he finally bottoms out inside you. 

Eager for more, you push your hips back against him to fuck yourself on his cock. “I like it rough,” you urge him.

Growling, Hoseok sets a brutal pace, desperately drilling his cock in and out of you.

You whimper in pleasure at his handling. Hoseok caresses at your back and hips and ass as if attempting to memorize the feel of your skin as he sinks into you over and over. Curling his fingers around your hips, he pulls you onto his length as he surges forwards, your breasts bouncing with the force of his trusts.  

Eyes clamped shut in pleasure, you feel your legs shake with your impending release.

“Hobi, I’m getting close,” you whimper. 

He grunts in approval, suddenly hoisting you up onto the counter so that your toes barely skim the floor. 

You squeal in surprise. In this position with your legs dangling, you wildly grasp at the smooth marble in the attempt to hold onto something. Hoseok pounds into you and you are unable to do anything but accept the pleasure he gives you. 

“Cum on my cock,” Hoseok urges. “I need to feel you cum first”

“So deep, ah- fuck! You feel so good, Hobi” you gasp as he continues to thrust into you. 

Your toes curl as his pace increases, desperate to get you off before he blows.

“Touch me, please, I’m so close,” you beg.

Sending his fingers between your legs, he rubs quick circles as you showed him earlier around your throbbing clit.

Your walls flutter wildly around him as you begin to unravel. 

“That’s my girl,” Hoseok grunts as he feels your walls tighten around him. 

You cum with a strangled moan of his name, puffing against the marbled surface as you clench rhythmically around his turgid length. 

Ears ringing in post orgasm haze, you feel Hoseok continue to thrust desperately into your wet heat. 

Panting he asks urgently, “Can I cum inside?”

“Fill me up,” you whimper, nodding enthusiastically. 

With your permission, Hoseok lets go. Draping his front against your back, he buries deep into your cunt and releases into your velvet heat with a loud, drawn out groan. 

Lying prone over the marble and still speared on his cock, Hoseok peppers sweet kisses along your nape and shoulders, gently suckling against your skin as you both revel in post-coital bliss.

“Mmm,” you keen at his attention as he presses one last lingering kiss behind your ear.

“You were serious earlier, right?” he asks softly. “You really want more, too?”

Craning to look back at him, you see a line of worry between his brows as he waits for your confirmation.

“I just wanna be yours, Hoseok,” you affirm with a shy smile.

He beams down at you, and like a flower to a sun, you can’t help but smile back.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hey!!! I'm so glad you liked the blurb night idea :) 💞 Can I request a blurb with Peter bumping into the reader while she's kinda lost at times square and he's dressed as spiderman so he tries to flirt with you, but it makes you laugh instead?

I loved the idea hun, thankyou sm for helping me with this idea xxx

“You’re a guy?”

Pairing | Peter Parker x reader

Summary | based on the request

Warnings | mentions of crime, brief mention of death and drugs, mention of sex

2K blurb masterlist

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

“And there was this girl. She was really pretty, but-“ May quirked her head at her nephew, hardly understanding his blabber as he sped through his words like he was racing verbally against a cheetah, though, she was manage to uncover that particular sentence.

“Whoa, slow down kiddo.” His aunt laughed lightly, bracing her shoulders on his arms as he caught his overexcited breath. “How about you start from the beginning, and take a breath?” May had much practice with calming the boy down, she sincerely remembered how that night his parents had dropped him off, how worried he had been for them not to return. And they didn’t.

Peter bobbed his head in a eager nod, doing as he was recommended by his legal guardian, puffing the air in through his cheeks, as he inhaled and exhaled normally through his nose.“I was out patrolling the city, checking out for any bad guys, and then, I saw her...” her, the girl that had captured his attention, and distracted him from his friendly neighbourhood duties. She was much like a magnet, pulling his north face into her axis spinning world, distracting him from the things that he was actually meant to be ensuring did not happen on his watch.

“Weren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” The elder of the two quirked a brow, earning a splutter of a response from the teenager under her roof. She wasn’t a strict guardian concerning his heroic antics, though, she made sure to keep him on track for his own sake. Peter had quite the tendency to become overrun with stress from the amounts of responsibilities that he took on, and him being only young did not help the situation.

“I’m getting to that!” He was fast to defend himself, huffing his chest in as he prepared to tell May his story, from the beginning. It was quite the tale, he’d say, combined with the embarrassment of his own presence entangled in the random and friendly interaction that he had felt promiscuously lulled to create.

Queens, it was new to you. There were so many streets, filled to the brim with people that seemed to know where they were going. Unlike them, you didn’t, in fact, you’d go as far to admit that you were lost. Lost in a place that was known for the chaos that wrapped it off with a tarnished bow, and made the collateral practically fashion within its various newspapers that rounded every corner to divulge their companies’ obscure theories.

A panicked look struck your eyes, as you turned, shaking your head and pressing through the mass of citizens and finding an empty lot, scrolling through your phone, diverting your attention quickly towards google maps. It was the only thing that you could think of, it’d be a shame if you were to disturb one of the many passersby from their clearly packed schedule; you did not need that, nor berating them on your conscience.

“You lost or something?” A voice asked, making your shoulders jump as a figure, twisted in the colours red and blue, with a seam of black fell from the roofs above. Your heart rate imploded, more so when you realised who the mask wearing vigilante was. The wearer, although unknown, was infamous for the successions of saving lives that they had participated in, including defending the galaxy against outside threats.

It was Spiderman, the neighbourhood dubbed avenger, that tried their utmost to return stolen or lost bikes to their rightful owners, and protected banks from armed and overnight robberies. There was known to be something different about this particular hero, they were young and clearly had time to improve their skill set, for they were quite the clutz, and spoke significantly more to those he faced off against than what was necessary.

But this one hero, stood out amongst the rest. Not only was their suit designed by Stark technology, as you had written about in a work article, but it was far more concealing, and not to mention restricting, for the person beneath the red concoction to wear. Yes, you were in town for a new job, specifically to delve into the details that regards the world of heroes, and exploit all possible angles to how they deserved as much recognition for their stunts, as the president received for his noble speeches.

“I-“ you paused, think back over what you were preparing to say. It was without a doubt, that you had not expected the vigilante to appear in your spectacle gaze the first time that you stepped foot on the premises that he roamed, and protected. But here the spider enthusiast was, leaping down to stand beside you, burdening you with more knowledge that you could use, such as the person beneath was not as tall as you had expected, and there was definitely no way you could see their true eyes through the shallow white cases that covered them.

That was something you could write about, and make various descriptive theories about. ‘Seeing in white vision, sparked by the purity that glazed their unknown signature irises, Spider-Man halts all with the sparing of their true self. They may have reasons for shielding their eyes, much like Daredevil, not needing to see when they are overcome with various other senses that convulse their body into attentiveness,” -no, that sounded absolutely terrible.

And not to mention, if you spread that horrid writing about, Murdoc would be ashamed of ever deciding to get your aid in uncovering the route of the villainous underworld, that had take over Hell’s Kitchen and turned it into their own ring for drugs and more. The battle of New York had many repercussions, that being one, another influencing you into the career choice of being said reporter that you now proclaimed yourself as.

“Yeah, I am.” You responded with the company of a smile, and Peter swore he could feel his heart convulse beneath his suit. It’s pace was vaguely rapid, disheartening him from thinking of any more to say, he was practically speechless. “I’m looking for New York Times, you ever heard of it?” Yes, he most definitely had, it was the average run of the mill newspaper company, though, he did not know that you intended to change that into something much more.

“Funnily enough I have.” He scratched the back of his head, his arm subconsciously flexing as he did so, feeling like he had failed as your eyes remained focused on the wideness of his suit’s intense eyes. “It’s about three blocks from here, I could take you there if you want, I have nothing more to do.” From his proclamation you quirked a brow, crossing your arms amusedly.

“Don’t you have a city to watch over?” You asked, watching as Spider-Man’s false eyes widened, and he visibly panicked, realising that you had been right. “I’ll find my way, I’ve been to New York, many a time, Queens is bound to be a piece of cake. Also, a map is always handy.” A shrug rippled off your shoulders, Peter watching and walking closer as he thought of something more to add to the initial acquainting conversation.

“I’m Spider-Man.” Inwardly, and beneath his mask, Peter cringed noting how his voice rose, and it could be perceived as boasting. That though was definitely not his intent in the slightest, but he worried of how it may have come across to you. He wasn’t sure how you may have read it as, but a swarm of relief filled his lungs as he watched the corner of your eyes crinkle up, humoured by the tone of his that had significantly heightened. “Im a guy by the way.”

He felt the need to state that, especially considering people’s perceptions in the past. But instantly after saying it, he was regretful, through, he had to admit, he enjoyed listening to you laugh, it was like a melody that he wanted to listen to until the end of time. “You’re a guy?” You released a dramatic gasp, aiding your phoney response. “Yeah, no. I completely thought that you were a girl.” Sarcasm, he had well gotten used to frequency of it thanks to Mr Stark, who... well, he wasn’t around any more.

“You’re funny.” He smiled, shaking his head whence he realised that you could not see his hidden expression. “I don’t know, maybe, would you like to go to coffee with me, if you have time before you have to get to the news place? I mean, I don’t drink that much coffee, I get told that if I have too much caffeine that I get a little hyper, but I mean, I’m trying to ask you out and I have a really bad track record of-“

“Sure.” You spoke, ignoring the map that had finally loaded onto the screen of your phone. It was to your luck that you weren’t required to make your presence known at the business until tomorrow, and there was always time to kill, so you thought screw it, and decided to find it so that you didn’t get lost the approaching day. “Are you going to be wearing that, or you know, take it off?” You pointed at him, making peter surprised.

“It’s not that kind of date.” He quickly responded. “I meant just for a drink, not to hook up in the back of an a- oh, you meant the suit, didn’t you.” With a roll of your eyes, you nodded, pursing your lips together, as Peter felt the rain of relief once more. “Oh, that’s good, not that I wouldn’t want to, you’re gorgeous, that just wasn’t my intent and I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“Basically.” You wrinkled your nose, with a laugh, the way you scrunched it up was adorable to Peter. “So I’ll meet you here in two hours, I’ll let you finish up your duties, and change into something that doesn’t make you look you’re wearing a thong, because I can tell you from experience that those things are not comfortable. That good for you Spidey?”

“That works.” He spoke, trying his best to contain his overflowing excitement, biting his lip to do so. “That definitely works.”

“Hi.” The familiar voice of Spider-Man spoke, and you turned around, watching as a young man, not much different in age from yourself rounded the corner. He was clothed in a blue and white chequered flannel, and grey jeans, and you had to say, that whilst the amazing Spider-Man was quite the sight, this was something else.

“Oh, I was waiting for a girl actually.” You informed him, clearly messing with him, as you walked closer, a stretching smile pinning up the corners of your lips. “But I guess you’ll do webslinger.” He could feel his heart racing, but he walked closer, watching as you eyed him, a stranger met with the sight of a vigilante unmasked. “Where to, red and blue?”

“There’s this really good place on main, they sell the best sandwiches. And trust me, once you buy from there, you won’t stop...” the two of you began to walk away together, and towards Peter’s secret destination, where the two of you learnt the others real name.

[artaefact]

bakery 1995.

—wordcount: 14.7k+

—genre: angst, fluff, romance, baker!jimin, bakery cafe au, childhood friends-to-lovers au

—pairing: park jimin x f reader ft. bestfriend!jungkook

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: age gap (jimin is 4-5 years older), brief mention of physical assault, memory loss, overprotective parents, some intended grammatical mistakes, swearings, y/n is dragged into jungkook’s shenanigans

—summary: After returning from college for summer break, you got yourself a part time job to keep yourself busy. However, things go way too unexpectedly and you find yourself unraveling your forgotten past.

author’s note: this is for @btswritingcafe promptly yours event !! i tweaked the prompt a bit, so hopefully no one would get confused! happy reading ♡

Prompt: “Person A once had a major childhood crush on Person B. Fast forward to college where Person A is convinced it was nothing but temporary, that is until they return home for summer break to find Person B back after being gone for several years. Turns out, they weren’t such temporary feelings.”

© artaefact/eunoiabliss 2020. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is NOT permitted.

It’s nice to know that no matter how judgemental the world can be, pigeons would never judge you. Despite the clear contrast between yourself and the asphalt pathway, they would not hesitate to excrete waste on either of them and can’t even be bothered by the possible consequences.

Staring at the dropping on your jacket sleeve, you exhale loudly while rummaging your pocket for a kleenex.

‘Out of all the places where their shit could have landed on, it had to be MY jacket,’ you grumble to yourself.

Reaching towards the bakery in the area, you hope they still have some cinnamon rolls you have been craving for. You can already imagine yourself humming in delight as the sweetness spreads across your taste buds and—

“You have got to be kidding me.”

The cashier attendee bows apologetically at you. “We’re so sorry, all the cinnamon rolls are sold out for today.”

Today must be the worst day to date in your entire years of existence. How on earth can a bakery run out of cinnamon rolls?

Groaning internally, you trudge out of the, now, third bakery that has sold out their cinnamon rolls.

Bad luck seems to follow you throughout the day. Is it because you went out of the house while your parents were in the middle of nagging you? For the last few days after you came back home for summer break, they have been constantly nagging you and you would kill to have an hour of peace and quiet.

Mindlessly, you whip up your phone and search up on Google while you walk to the nearby bus station, typing in the search bar — is it bad luck if a bird pooped on you?

Biting your lower lip, you press on the first link that appears on the screen.

Bird poop may be a sign of hope in disguise, you read. Snorting in incredulity, you scroll through the webpage.

It can’t be good luck.

You are not the type to believe in superstitions, however, besides getting pooped on, you dropped your phone on the pavement of the sidewalk just before you reached the first bakery, an hour ago. This resulted in the annoying crack of the screen right in the middle of it. Not only that, the sole of your right tennis shoes came off halfway which hindered you from walking properly and made you look like someone who hurt their leg.

Having had enough for today, you decide to go back home. Until a pastel pink store, right across the street, catches your attention with its aesthetic-looking door.

What’s this? A new—

A dramatic gasp escapes your lips after reading the name of the store, earning confused stares from nearby people. But you couldn’t care less.

Maybe Lady Luck does still care about you.

As soon as the pedestrian light turns green, you excitedly run, no, shuffle through the zebra-cross, reaching the newly-opened bakery.

My last hope is here. Please, let there be—

The interior of the bakery exudes a welcoming vibe, with the color of pale pink being the dominant over the whole place. Basically, it's a place where those Instagram models would kill to take their pictures at. However, it’s not the interior itself that your focus locks on. When the smell of freshly baked goods wafts into your nose, your eyes zero themselves on the various types of pastries that line the display counter, covered in glass domes. And there it is.

“Yes!” You squeal, grabbing the bakery tray to fill it as much as you’d like.

When you place the filled tray in the cash register counter, the cashier comments, “Woah, that’s a lot.”

If it is a normal day, you would have waved it off. However, unfortunately for the guy, it isn’t a normal day for you, after the constant annoying incidents that happened to you earlier. The comment snaps the last thread of patience you have for the day and sadly, targets the person in front of you. “I think you should mind your own—”

You take your thoughts back. Lady Luck is not on your side nor is the universe. They must be having fun, playing pranks on you so much today.

Your words cease immediately at his sheepish yet attractive smile.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Just having a really bad day and I—”

“No! That’s okay.” The guy grins at you, eyes turning into crescent moons. “I’m the one who should be sorry, I just said the first thing that came up in my mind.”

“Ah...”

“I suck at starting conversations,” he says, sheepishly. “It’s a skill I’m planning to improve.”

Blinking twice, you manage to smile back at him, most probably just a cringed expression. “Well, um, good luck with that.”

As soon as he hands you the paper bag, you dash out of the bakery, not once looking back.

Your cheeks feel hot during the whole trip back home, every time you remember what happened, you would mentally kick yourself.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Eating the warm cinnamon rolls is a blessing and a curse.

You have never tasted such heavenly flavour before, all your worries and exhaustion seem to fade away. This brings you to freeze in the realisation that you’ll want, no, need to go back to that bakery to buy those delicious rolls again. Meaning, you’ll see that cute guy whom you snapped at earlier, again.

His friendly eye-smile burns deep in your mind. But you can’t shrug off the sense of familiarity of his face and his voice…

Have I met him before?

Once you reach home, body aching and tired, you take a quick shower before digging into the rolls. Clicking your tongue, you continue to munch on the rolls in your room while your thoughts pull you in deep.

The sudden knock on your door, however, brings you back to the present. Groaning loudly, you stand up from your padded window seat.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Jungkook.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Your mouth agape at the sudden visit from your best friend. “Didn’t you say you won’t see me at all until break is over?”

“I might have changed my mind. I was very bored at home.” He enters your room, plopping on your beanbag. “So, now I am bored as hell and— Did you buy food without telling me?”

You met him during freshman year and you both hit it off quite quickly, you might add. After constantly pairing up together in projects, college project meetups gradually turned into hangouts.

“Says the one who claims to see my face every day makes him sick.” You roll your eyes at his dramatic ass, you go back to the window seat, crossing your legs. “It wasn’t planned, okay? I just got back home like thirty minutes ago.”

“But still you nearly finished everything without leaving me much!” He bit your last half-finished roll, letting out a noise of approval. “Which bakery did you buy it from?”

“It’s a new one. I never saw it before we went to college.”

“You should bring me there soon.”

“Nu-uh,” you refuse. “You can go yourself. I am not stepping a foot inside that place any longer.”

“What? Why not?”

“I may have embarrassed myself in front of the worker there.” Then you tell him what happened earlier.

Jungkook shakes his head in pity. “My poor Y/N, how do you always embarrass yourself when I’m not around? How would you survive in this world without me?”

Snorting at his words, you lean against the pillows on your back. “You’re the lucky one to have someone like me as his best friend. Anyways, how about that job I’m looking for?”

“Oh!” Jungkook’s eyes lit up. “Right, I was about to tell you! My friend is looking for a part-timer for his cafe.”

“Hmm, that sounds…”

Jungkook answers, “Boring? I know you’re looking for something much more exciting and—”

Narrowing your stare at Jungkook’s obvious judgmental face, you cut him off. “It sounds perfect, actually.”

Sighing, Jungkook whips up his phone. “You better bring me leftovers every time you get off work. I’ll bring you to his cafe tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“What? Why?”

“You little shit—” You smack his arm.

“Ow! Stop that, woman! I thought you said—”

“This is a fucking bakery, dumbass!” You hiss at him.

Jungkook gapes at you. “It’s a bakery cafe, what’s the difference?”

“It’s different! I can’t go back in there!” You whine in embarrassment.

“Wait— So this is the bakery where you embarrassed yourself?”

Nodding wordlessly, you exhale before catching Jungkook failing to stifle his laughter. “Shouldn’t be too big of a problem. He’s nice, Y/N.”

“But—”

“And I told him you were coming…” Jungkook scratches the back of his head.

After contemplating for a while, you decided to gather your courage and enter the sweet-smelling bakery with Jungkook.

Too late to go back now. It was either this or staying bored at home for the rest of the summer break, facing your parents’ look of disapproval at your lack of daily activities, or to be more exact productivity.

The cute guy just finished placing cakes inside the glass displays on the counter, then his gaze shifts to where you and Jungkook are standing.

“Jungkook!” The cute guy’s brown hair is slicked back as he takes off his baker’s hat, approaching your best friend.

“It’s been so long, Hyung!” Jungkook greets back with a hug, smiling from ear to ear. “And wow—” His eyes skim through the pastel-themed cafe. “You finally opened your own cafe.”

Watching them interacting is a foreign sight to you. It’s a rare right to see Jungkook, the usually shy one, so friendly and comfortable around the cute guy.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe the cute guy won’t remember you and—

“Ah! Miss Cinnamon Rolls!”

Scratch that. Of course, he still remembers you.

“I didn’t know you were looking for a job.” His eye smile lands on you finally and your throat dries up.

Jungkook fails to hold back his laughter. “Miss Cinnamon Rolls? Just how much did you buy last time?”

After sending a brief glare at your best friend, you introduce yourself to the cute guy, “Y/N.”

As soon as your name slips past your lips, the cute guy freezes momentarily, eyes widening a fraction. “Y/N?”

You nod slowly.

“Uh,” He fumbles. “Jimin. Park Jimin.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“So, this is the kitchen area. We need to get the place ready by 8:30. Can you come by at 6 the latest?”

You nod at his question.

“We have a different menu each day. It will take some time for you to learn everything. But don’t worry I’ll teach everything you need to know.” He shoots you a smile, sending your heart to slightly flutter as you fiddle with your fingers.

Thank goodness Jungkook has left. Or else you’d never hear the end of his teasing or knowing smirk.

“I’m starting with bread and cakes these past few days before I open up the cafe section.”

For the rest of the day, Jimin spends his time letting you know everything about how the bakery runs whenever there are no customers. Even gracing you with two pieces of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls which made your cheeks burn in embarrassment at the memory of your first encounter.

“Go ahead, enjoy it,” Jimin shoots you a knowing grin.

Muttering a quiet ‘okay’, you take the first bite — holding a delighted groan at the sweetness that bursts through your tastebuds.

Propping his chin on his hand, he stares at you in amusement. “You must really like cinnamon rolls, huh?”

“They’re my comfort food,” you admit after swallowing down a piece. “My late grandmother used to make a lot of rolls at home.”

“I see… Well, have you ever baked before, Y/N?”

“The basic stuff like chocolate chip cookies…”

“Oh, that’s great—”

You added quickly, “But I nearly burned down Jungkook’s kitchen, though. He banned me from the kitchen ever since.”

A surprised laugh escapes the man’s lips which you don’t mind hearing more often, especially if you are the one behind it.

“At least the cookies still turned out great. It was a bit on the burnt side but still good… Crispy and crunchy.” You nervously chuckle. “But I swear, I’m not that bad if you provide a clear recipe!”

Still giggling, Jimin leans forward on his seat. “I can teach you everything you need to know. The basic stuff on baking and then there would be clear recipes I can provide you.”

Your eyes lighten up at that. “Yes! I’ll try my best.”

Arriving at the bakery at 6 am sharp, the next day — your official first day at work — Jimin can be seen moving back and forth from the small window opening connecting the kitchen and the bakery itself, already busy in the kitchen.

The smell of his work wafts through the entire bakery, indicating that he has been there for quite some time. Once you enter the kitchen, your mouth waters instinctively at the smell and sight of freshly-baked breads on the counter.

“How can I help?” From observing the finished baked goods, your eyes shift curiously at some ingredients — eggs, chocolate chips, sugar, flour — on the kitchen counter while you tighten the knot of your apron.

“You’re going to bake some chocolate chip cookies.” Jimin places a tray full of another different set of bread near the first one through the window. “So, go ahead, preheat the oven first.”

Following his instruction, you move towards one of the ovens. “Um…”

The corner of his lips quirks up at your obvious confusion before he chimes on how hot the oven should be set on.

With a brief nod, you turn on the oven. “Is this a test to see how far my baking skills go?” When you take a glimpse of the honey-haired man, he returns it with an amused grin of his own.

“Bingo.” Jimin’s smile is boyish and carefree and his eyes become crescent moons.

In other words, it made your heart race. However, you dismiss such unprofessional thoughts quickly before blood rises to your cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you move to the counter and start mixing the necessary ingredients altogether and set the dough on the baking tray. When the oven is preheated, you bring the tray towards it only to realise your mistake too late: not opening the oven first.

“Let me help,” Jimin says softly, opening the oven deftly.

“T-Thanks...” you mumble, concentrating on the task at hand.

Time passes quickly, before you know it, the oven makes a soft ‘ting’ sound. Opening it, the sweet smell wafts through the kitchen.

“I did it!” you say, excitedly placing the hot tray on the marble counter.

“But the final test is how the cookies taste.”

You watch in nervous anticipation as Jimin pops one of the cookies into his mouth. Not a moment later, he lets out a surprised sound.

“This is really good, Y/N. You do have the talent to bake.”

You beam at his words.

“Since that’s all set, I believe we still have other kinds of pastries to prepare for the day. I have all the recipes prepared for you here.” He motions to the notebook on the counter — you flip through it, astonished at all the recipes.

“Are these your own personalised recipes?”

Nodding, Jimin shoots you a grin. “I’ve always loved baking and there are some ways to make things with their own unique taste.”

The rest of the upcoming hour, you and Jimin were busy baking with Jimin instructing and giving you pointers. At some point, you even talked about anything and everything, as if you both have known each other all your life while you both work.

You have to admit, you find it really enjoyable. When the bakery closes, you sit quietly on one of the empty tables near the cashier after Jimin tells you to wait.

Mindlessly flipping through his recipe notebook, your attention soon shifts to Jimin himself with a steaming cup in his hold.

“Here.” He sets the cup in front of you.

You look at him quizzically before he motions for you to try.

“I’m opening the cafe part next week,” Jimin says. “Thought you can be the first to judge my caramel macchiato.”

“That’s a lot of caramel in one drink…” For a few moments, you observe the steaming coffee, froth decorates the top of it with drizzles of caramel in patterns of criss-cross nearly covering most of the foam itself. “Why caramel macchiato, though?”

“I thought you’d—” He clears his throat. “So many people really love caramel macchiato. So, I thought I’d go with this one for you to try first.”

Bringing the cup carefully to your lips, you take a sip of the beverage. The texture of the coffee is so smooth and the slight bitterness spreads through your taste buds and down your throat. Then you taste the caramel, letting out a delighted surprise when you find caramel bits inside the beverage.

Jimin keeps his stare on you, one hand supporting his chin and his eyes unreadable.

“What is it?” You ask, after downing the drink.

He blinks as if he was lost in his own thoughts. “Uh, how is it?”

“It’s very good.”

“Do you like coffee?” He asks.

Nodding, you tell him you loved to steal your mom’s coffee when you were younger. “There used to be a cafe near my place. I used to go there frequently during my high school years.”

Jimin briefly stills at yours words. “Do you... Still go there?”

You shake your head. “It was closed two years ago unfortunately.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame. I would’ve wanted to try the coffee there.”

Chuckling at his words, your mind takes you back to your high school days. “It was really good.”

Humming to yourself, you continue to flip through the pages of Jimin’s recipe notebook. “What’s this?” You stop at one page, pointing at a child’s drawing on his recipe notebook. “Did you draw it when you were younger?”

“It’s a shooting star.” Jimin answers. “And, no. I didn’t.”

“Oh? Sister? Brother?”

“I don’t have a sister and my brother just does not have the artistic skill to draw that,” he laughs. “It was someone from my past. Someone who is precious to me.”

“Oh…” Noticing his faraway gaze on the notebook, you sense it is a sensitive topic. “Why a shooting star though?”

“It represents hopes and wishes, according to her.” His smile turns nostalgic. “I was having a hard time back then. But this girl,” he chuckles as if in disbelief. “— just straight up grabbed my notebook and drew a shooting star on it, saying I should wish on this star since seeing a shooting star is not that common here.”

There’s something sad but warm in Jimin’s tone as he talks about this girl. You can only assume that this girl is not in his life anymore. Or even in this world.

“I see…”

“As ridiculous as it sounds, I actually did it. Very frequently in all honesty. Whenever I’m having a hard time, I’d wish upon that star.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

A week passes quickly and just like a normal day, you arrive back home just a quarter past eight. Tugging off your shoes near the doorway, you hear your dad calling from the living room.

“Yes?” Mindlessly, you step into the living room only to meet the stern glare from him.

“Where were you?” Your dad asks. “Do you have any idea what time it is now?”

“It’s around eight...”

“And your curfew?”

Furrowing your brows, you gape, “I thought that was back in high school.”

“That still applies until now. I expect you to come back before seven.” Then he repeats his question, “Where were you?”

“From my new part-time place.” You answer. “I thought I told you about it.”

“If you want a job, you can intern in the company for the summer,” your dad sighs. “There’s no need for part-time jobs.”

You should have known it would last just three days before you are missing your university life, or to be more specific living alone. With the constant nagging from your parents, you crave for silence for a period of time. One thing you have been missing quite badly you have to admit, which is why you took the job in the bakery. Away from the scrutinising stares of your parents.

Here it goes again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to start there, Dad,” you exhale. “I want to do other things while I can.”

The same topic, the same debate you’d try to avoid as much as possible ever since you arrived back home for the summer. That was why you’d try to find something else to do. You always wanted to try a new hobby over the holidays. Now, with the excess amount of time in your hands, you are able to try.

That is why you opt for the part time job Jungkook found — working in the bakery.

“This isn’t going to work if you get home after your curfew, Y/N. You know how dangerous it is if you come home late.”

“I’m an adult now,” you reply, exasperatedly. “I can take care—”

“Things can get unpredictable, Y/N. It’s better that you’re safe than sorry.”

“Dad, when will you stop reminding me of that?” You groan in annoyance. “I don’t even remember how the accident happened.”

“The more reason for you to be cautious!”

Exasperated, you storm up to your room and carelessly throw your bag on the side of your bed. Laying on your back, you stare at the ceiling as your thoughts muddle when you try to think of what happened.

All you remember back then is that you woke up in the hospital, met with the worried gaze of your parents as soon as you got your consciousness back. However, they never tell or fill you in on what happened.

Gradually, your eyelids grow heavier — exhausted from the day and the burst of negative emotions over the argument you had earlier. Thus, you succumb to sleep. However, your mind takes you elsewhere.

Everything is dark.

With your own ragged breathing, you struggle to keep yourself as quiet as possible, biting down a hiss from the sting of your scraped knees. Tears pool in your eyes as you wait, hidden behind one of the playground’s slides and out of sight of any possible passerby.

There are no memories of what happened beforehand. All you know is to stay there and wait.

“Y/N?”

Peeking out of your hiding place, the figure draws closer calling your name in another hushed whisper.

But you knew this voice. So, you whispered back, “Here...” As soon as you get out of your hiding place, a warm embrace envelops your small frame.

“We’re okay, everything’s okay. I’ve lost them. We’re safe now,” he whispers, stroking your head softly while your fists clench on his shirt.

Not a moment later, your tears start to fall and you sob into his shirt. He tightens his hold on you, one hand on the back of your head as he repeatedly whispers, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“I’m here...” His voice then seems to echo and your surrounding becomes a blur.

When you open your eyes, you realise you’re back in your room yet there are stray tears in your eyes. Sitting up on your bed, you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

Was that a memory…?

“Have a good day.” You bid the last customer of the day farewell and once they leave, your cheeks droop into a frown. With a sigh, you walk out of the cashier register place towards the front door, turning the ‘Open’ plate to ‘Close’.

The dream you had last night still felt so vivid that you considered it was a flashback of your memory loss. You wanted to ask your parents about it. However, yesterday’s conflict was still fresh. You were sure they would dismiss it.

After cleaning up the counters of the bakery café and mopping the floors, you trudge into the break room, sitting down on one of its chairs as you wait for Jimin’s return from his “errand”.

Your mind takes you back to the dream where someone was hugging you tight.

Who was it? you wonder. In the back of your mind, somehow you never felt his warmth among your high school friends. The guy who was holding you is just different.

You are so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t realise Jimin entering until he brings something right in front of your face. “What—”

“Hot chocolate,” he answers, softly. “You seem distracted today, I thought this might cheer you up.”

Taking the steaming cup from him, you mutter your thanks before breathing in the sweet smell, blowing softly on the beverage. “That was fast.”

“Hmm?”

“Wait, did you go out to buy this?” You lift the warm cup of hot chocolate.

Jimin lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “I wanted to make you one. Until I realised that the ingredients are finished. So, I had to run out.”

“You didn’t have to, you know…”

“I know. But I wanted to anyway.”

Your eyes look down, can’t help feeling touched by his sweet gesture as you fight back to keep yourself from blushing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He must have noticed the change of your expression before he says quickly, “Only if you’re comfortable, of course! I just thought talking about what’s on your mind can ease you. At least a bit.”

Blinking your eyes twice, a chuckle escapes your lips. “I guess so.”

“That’s your first smile today.”

You raise a brow at him.

“Your first real smile, I mean. Your cheekbones do not have much tension if you’re genuinely happy whereas if you fake a smile, it seems more like you’re cringing. Like our first encounter.” He chuckles, meaningfully.

“I’m sorry...” you mumble, eyes glancing down at the steaming hot chocolate on your lap.

“That’s fine,” he says easily. “Everyone has their bad days.”

You smile slightly at his words. “Had a fight with my parents last night.”

Jimin stays quiet, still listening to you.

“They are always so protective when it comes to me. Maybe a bit too much at times. I’m a grown adult for fuck’s sake.” Another sigh escapes your lips before taking a sip of the hot chocolate. “My dad especially. He made it sound like a big deal when I came home around eight. I’m just frustrated at this.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

You nod in response.

“Was there something that made your dad feel that way?”

“I...” You blink. “I guess it’s because that one time I ended up in the hospital?”

“You did?”

You nod. “A few years ago, I had an accident.”

Jimin stiffens at your words. “Oh?”

“But it was nothing. I didn’t even remember what happened in all honesty.”

He stutters, “W-What?”

“I lost my memories. I had no recall of the accident at all.” Eyes training blankly on your front, focusing on nothing as you dive back into your memories. “My parents told me there is nothing to worry about and my memories would come back gradually. They never filled me in on what happened too.”

The corner of his lips soon quirks up slightly, his expression wistful. “Maybe they wouldn’t want you to be traumatised by what happened. It’s already fortunate enough for you to be able to recover from your head injury.”

“Yeah... I guess so,” you mumble.

However, since that incident you can’t deny the feeling of something missing since a chunk of your life has been cut off. No memories of the accident have returned even after years. Recovering from the head injury—

“Wait—” Head snapping to face Jimin. “How did you know I had a head injury?”

Jimin blinks repeatedly, as if your words just sink in. “Ah! I mean isn’t it a head injury? You lost your memories after all.” An awkward laugh escapes his lips. “Usually, people who lost their memories have head injuries, right?”

“Well, yeah...”

“Anyways, finish the hot chocolate and you should head home before your parents—”

Suddenly, a wave of deja vu washes over you. Snapping your gaze from the hot chocolate in your hands, you look at Jimin as your brain starts to grow fuzzy at the familiarity of Jimin’s words.

“Jimin...” you begin.

“Huh?”

“Have we ever met before I started working here?”

“You mean the first time you came into this bakery?”

You shake your head. “No, even before that. Did we know each other?”

A surprised glint appears in his eyes before it dissipates as quick as it appears. “I don’t think so…?”

Oh.

“Maybe we’ve just ran into each other at some point in town. But I don’t think we ever knew each other.”

“I see...” Disappointment floods through you at his words.

Right, you thought to yourself. If he was a close friend he would have recognised you instantly when you came to his bakery.

“Oh, look at the time.” Jimin stands up. “You need to be home before dark, right?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. You’ve finished cleaning today. I just need to close up and check the supplies.”

“But—” Your words die in your throat when Jimin pats your head.

“You’ve worked hard today,” he grins at you.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“I’m home,” you call out to no one in particular before you hear your mother from the kitchen.

Once you reach the kitchen, your mother turns her head to see you. “Help me set the table, dinner’s almost ready.”

Nodding, you follow suit. “Where’s Dad?”

“Your father is still caught in a meeting. He’ll be home late.”

“I see,” you mutter, placing the silverwares on the table.

“How’s work?” your mother asks. “You’re home earlier than usual.”

“It’s great,” you answer. “The boss lets me off early.”

And you continue to talk about your day. From helping Jimin bake cakes and bread early in the morning, serving customers coffee and desserts, cleaning up the whole place, and enjoying the hot chocolate Jimin bought you earlier.

“He sounds like a nice guy,” your mom muses when you both sit at the dinner table.

“He is.” A smile appears on your face, remembering his sweet gesture and warm presence. Then your mind shifts to the conversation you had earlier, and what has been bothering you lately. “Mom?”

“Hmm…?”

“Five years ago, how did I end up in the hospital?”

Your mother noticeably stiffens at your question, ceases digging through her plate of food.

“You and Dad never filled me in. You both kept on saying that my memories will return eventually… Until now actually.” You let out a breath. “I think I’m old enough to know what really happened.”

Letting out a deep breath herself, your mother puts down her fork. “What do you remember?”

“I was at a playground and hiding… Then there’s someone who came to find me.” Met with silence from your mother, you continue, ���Was it one of my friends?”

Shaking her head, your mother answers, “It wasn’t any of your high school friends.”

“Then who…?”

“You never mentioned his name. But you’d always talk about him back then.” Your mother sighs. “Go through the attic when you’re having a day off. You’ll find some of your old stuff I hid there. Make sure your father is not home.”

Standing up, you want to go there at once. However, your mother stops you. “Y/N, listen to me. Whatever you find there, if you… If anything hurts or feels just too much, I want you to stop, alright? You’re a grown adult and I trust you’ll prioritise your own health.”

Nodding wordlessly, you finish the remaining food on your plate.

[ when you were fifteen years old: after the incident ]

When the dismissal bell rings, some students instantly scramble from their desks, some stretch lazily on their seats and have conversations with others.

“Hey, Y/N.” One of your classmates calls you, a smile etched on her face. “So glad to have you back.”

“Yeah! This sem has been a pain in the ass. You’ll get through it in a breeze!” Another classmate adds.

You respond with a grateful smile of your own before packing up your things.

It hasn’t been that long since you were released from the hospital. You have persistently insisted your parents to let you go back to school and they finally relented after you promised them that you’ll go straight back home and to not strain yourself after dismissing your parents’ idea of hiring a driver.

Today is your first day back. Your friends greeted you excitedly when you stepped into the classroom. Even those who you recall never talked much with you greeted you with a ‘Hi’.

Walking mindlessly through the streets of your neighbourhood, your legs take you to a cafe as you recognise the familiar scent of coffee.

Tilting your head in confusion, you stare at the cafe building in shades of black and brown.

What exactly are you doing here?

There were no planned meetups with your friends, yet, your body seems to find its way here. Fishing out your phone, you scan through the past messages to double check any planned hangouts.

It’s a Wednesday.

But…

With the curiosity nagging inside you, you search for Beomgyu’s contact.

[ 4:05 PM ] You: beomie, do you know the cafe near my place?

[ 4:05 PM ] Beomgyu: i guess?? Every wednesday you'd always go there for no apparent reason at all. When i wanted to tag along you’d always give me the devil eye :(

[ 4:05 PM ] You: oh… that’s… well, sorry lol. Do u wanna come here?

[ 4:06 PM ] Beomgyu: wait, r u srs ???

[ 4:06 PM ] You: i mean if u’re not busy and i think getting coffee and hanging in the cafe would be good.

[ 4:07 PM ] Beomgyu: i'd never thought this day would come :’) i’ll be there in 10.

Chuckling at your friend’s response, you place your phone back into your pocket. Exhaling, you enter the cafe and make your way towards the cashier register.

“Welcome, what would you like for today?” The person smiles at you.

“Caramel macchiato, please.”

She nods, typing in your order. “That will be four dollars.”

After exchanging your payment with a receipt, you wait at an empty table for two near the window. Something about this familiar place, however, feels off. Like there is something missing that you can’t seem to put your finger on.

Your thoughts are cut off when someone takes the seat across from you. “Why are you so deep in thought?”

Beomgyu stares at you quizzically as you blink in realisation. “Uh…”

He narrows his stare at you suspiciously before shifting his gaze around the cafe. “So, what is it that kept you going here?”

You shake your head in response. “I have no idea either. Honestly, I have this gut feeling to come here when I passed by earlier.”

“Hmm, maybe the coffee?” Beomgyu watches one of the waitresses bringing your orders, placing it on your table.

Sighing, you stare at the steaming cup with caramel drizzles on the foam for a few moments. Then you bring the cup to your lips to take a sip.

“Argh, why is this bitter?” Scrunching your nose, you motion towards the waitress for extra caramel.

“Did… Your taste buds change too? You said the caramel macchiato here is perfect.”

A snort escapes you as you drizzle more caramel into the coffee. “I got hit in the damn head, Beomie. It doesn’t change my taste buds.”

He shrugs. “Well, who knows. I never knew you like caramel that much.”

You freeze momentarily.

“Y/N? You okay?” Beomgyu waves a hand in front of your face.

“Y-yeah, I just…”

“You just…?”

Shaking your head once more, you whisper, “It’s nothing…” But your eyes scan through the busy workers in the cafe.

Deep inside, you had an inkling that the coffee here isn’t your sole reason for coming here.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Turns out you were right.

Once when you came into the cafe on another Wednesday, you sat at your usual place after ordering your usual drink.

“Oh, my dear, you’re finally back,” someone says.

Blinking, your gaze snaps to the elder woman — maybe around her mid fifties — and you give her a small smile before asking, “Do I know you...?”

It was her turn to look confused at your words.

“I’m really sorry for not recognising!” You grow flustered at your words. “I lost my memory in an accident a few months ago...”

“Oh, that’s awful!” The lady — a regular customer, you assume — gasps. “So that’s why you don’t frequent this cafe anymore. The young man looked so heartbroken before he quit his job—”

“Young man?”

“The barista, dear,” the lady replies. “You used to come here and meet him. I had to shush the both of you every time to not disturb the other customers.”

“I... Was he from my school?”

The lady shakes her head. “I don’t think so. He never wore a uniform like yours.”

“Do you know his name?”

The lady shakes her head once more. “His name was Park. Probably that’s his last name. At least that’s what is written on his name tag.”

And you internally groan. There are thousands of people with that last name.

“Do you know where he’s gone?”

“I’m afraid no, my dear. I heard he quit the job suddenly.”

Sighing, you thanked the lady before heading out of the cafe with your shoulders dropping in defeat.

The trapdoor makes a loud creaking sound when you lift it up, indicating that it hasn’t been used for a very long time. Slipping the key back to your back pocket, you step up further on the ladder with the trap door laying on another side as you go through it while the floorboards creak underneath your weight.

It didn’t take you long to locate your old things. Scanning through the boxes, you find one doodled in various flowers and rainbows with your name written on it as well.

With a grunt, you lift up the dusty box, bringing it down to the floor with a thud which causes you to cough at the flying dust. In an attempt to swat the dust away, you wave your hand in front of you. Still coughing uncontrollably with your eyes watering. After your cough ceases, you crouch and open the box. A few notebooks can be found inside along with some old dolls from your childhood.

You vaguely remember the locked diary you liked to write in about your day and its pale pink cover which was covered in sparkling stickers you used to be obsessed with.

Digging further through the books, you finally found it — the possible answer to your lost memories — with a small key dangling on the lock.

Climbing down from the attic, you made your way to your room while fumbling with the lock and key of your old diary. After successfully unlocking it, you take a seat on your padded window sill, flipping through the yellowing pages.

The first page was clearly written by you. Your old handwriting and your name. The first entry you wrote dates back to a decade ago.

Your fingers twitch at how cringe-y most of the entries are. Yet, at the same time you find it endearing how you used to write about your day. The good, the bad, and the normal things — appreciating just to be able to experience and get through them.

The last of your entries date back to months before the incident when you were fifteen. Probably because you decided that you were too old to write diaries any longer.

Recalling how you’d always visit the cafe every Wednesday, you skim through Wednesday entries. However one particular name seems to stand out in those entries.

“Mochi?” You flip from one entry to another. Who the hell is that?

Deciding to get to the bottom of this, you search for the earliest entry that you can find — nine years ago.

I met the hot choco guy again, today. I’m feeling so happy!!! He is so nice. why can’t any of the boys in my school be like him????

Hot... Choco? Furrowing your brows, you skip to the next Wednesday entry.

i am feeling so happy that mama brought me to the cafe last last week!!! she do not let me drink the coffee drink, so Mochi give me hot choco! i think it’s the best BEST drink EVER!!!

“How the hell did hot choco guy turn into Mochi?” you mumble to yourself, flipping through your diary to the next Wednesday entry.

Mochi teached me how to do math!!! It was so fun! But when Teacher Lee teaches me, it’s always boring. How did Mochi make math fun??? I wish he go to my school instead and teach me math :(

You internally cringe at your younger self. Exhaling, you press your temple in disbelief.

This whole diary of your younger self is basically gushing over this hot-choco-turned-Mochi guy as you flip through other pages. However, you stop at a certain entry.

Today… Is a very bad day. But Mochi suddenly makes it better.

Glancing at the date — it was the day your grandmother passed away.

He promises to make me cinnamon rolls whenever i tell him to! Just like Grannie… I’m sorry, Diary. I don’t think i can write more today. I just hope tomorrow will be a better day.

“Mochi…” you mumble repeatedly with furrowing brows and the name seems to trigger your brain to relive some memories.

“I’m calling you Mochi!” You hear your own twelve-year old voice. Yelping, your diary lands on the floor with a small thud.

“No!” Another voice rings in your head — familiar and warm. “That’s a really uncool nickname.”

“But you look like a mochi! And it’s not uncool! I think it’s really cute!”

Blinking, your mind brings you back to reality. Reaching down for your diary, you freeze momentarily before clutching your head. For a moment, your heart stops when your gaze lands on your diary’s open page — a drawing of a familiar shooting star.

Mochi is… Jimin?

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ when you were twelve ]

When another sigh escaped his lips, you glanced up from your math workbook — his face can only be described as perturbed. With no hesitance, you quietly pushed the last cookie on your plate to him, earning his glassy stare as it shifted from his notebook that’s lying open on the table.

He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. “Why didn’t you finish that? Do you want to bring it home?”

You shook your head, heat tinging your cheeks. “It’s for you. You look like you need it.”

“It’s caramel cookies.”

Nodding, you mumbled, “You said eating it can comfort people.”

The boy stared at you for a moment longer — recalling the time when you had a bad day and he gave you that, then he chuckled. “I guess I did.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded again. “I can order hot chocolate for you too.”

He reached for the last cookie, finally a small smile you have awaited appearing on his face. “This is enough, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Thanks.”

You beamed at his words, then you extended one hand to take his notebook and draw a shooting star on the page it was opened on.

“We can’t really see shooting stars in here,” you explain, pushing his notebook back to him. “So, whenever you’re having a hard time, wish on this shooting star! It represents hopes and wishes!”

“What that’s—” He stopped himself. Letting out a sigh, he found himself nodding despite how ridiculously endearing the idea was. “Alright. I will.”

The blare of your alarm jolts you awake. Groaning, you grab your phone, turning off the alarm when you realise you have to go to work. You can’t find it in yourself to see Jimin today. Not after finding out that he was, is, part of your missing childhood memories.

Your gaze lands on the diary, laying open on your window sill. As you read more and more of your diary entries, Mochi being Jimin just makes sense. You remember how he went out of his way just to buy you hot chocolate when you were having a bad day — just like in the past.

After all this time, Jimin is actually part of, no, in most of your childhood life.

And he denied it.

Why?

You continuously drift back to that one question. Why did he deny it when you asked him? Don’t people usually love to get reacquainted with their childhood friends?

Sighing, you message Jimin listlessly, telling him you aren’t feeling well before you turn off your phone completely. You don’t think you can handle interacting more with him.

Hours passed, when someone barges in your room. “Y/N!”

Peeking out from your blanket, you glare at your best friend. “What the fuck, Kook?”

“Jimin told me you aren’t feeling well. So, I came to check up on you.”

“Okay, you did. Now, go back home.”

Without responding, he opens the curtain in your room, letting in the piercing sunlight and you let out an annoyed ‘tsk’.

Should have known your best friend isn’t going to let this go easily.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been off the whole weekend. You may be able to trick Jimin but you can’t trick me.”

Still burying yourself under your blanket, the bed dips on your friend’s weight as he waits for your response. But you keep your silence, trying your best to even your breathing. You’ve cried enough after all.

“Hmm?” Jungkook stands up. “What’s this? Your diary?”

Abruptly, you fling yourself off the bed and grab your diary from his clutches.

“Go home, Jungkook. I’m not in the mood to deal with this.”

“You know I won’t until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m just...” Your shoulders droop in defeat. “Why?”

“Why what?”

You hate crying in front of anyone. But it’s as if a dam broke, your tears do not stop falling while you babble, “Why did he pretend to not know me? Why did he deny? Why—”

Jungkook blinks repeatedly at your sudden change. “W-wait! Why are you crying? I don’t under—”

“Park Jimin!” Your sudden outburst flusters him further. “The guy who you’re friends with and who you recommended for me to work with! That’s who!”

“But—”

“He‘s Mochi.”

Jungkook looks dumbfounded for a moment before your words register inside his head. “M-Mochi?”

Like a petulant child, you climb on your bed once more and hide your diary beneath your pillow. “Leave me alone, Kook.”

With a defeated sigh, Jungkook trudges out of your room, leaving you once again drowning in your thoughts.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Jimin has always loved mornings, especially when he is able to quietly bake on what most people would call ungodly hours. There is something enjoyable about being fully awake during this time when no sounds of passing vehicles can distract him, making him feel at ease.

He had started appreciating the little things in life when you — who once stared up at him with curious eyes, expression lightening up when he made a cup of hot chocolate for you — taught him to.

Chuckling to himself, his mind drifts back to the time you first entered his bakery. Gods, he should have known it was you. But you were so different, he could hardly comprehend how much you had grown.

Gone was your happy-go-lucky self. He was stunned when you suddenly snapped at him. Your younger self would probably respond with a smile and drone on about how much you love cinnamon rolls. For a second, his heart had hoped. Maybe you remembered him after all these years?

Yet that hope dissipated in an instant when you merely apologised and ran out. Moreover, you didn’t return to his bakery after buying the cinnamon rolls, he thought he had screwed things up by attempting to start a conversation with you. Or maybe that person wasn’t really you. Just someone who looks a lot like you. He still had his suspicions after all.

However, his suspicions were gone the moment you introduced yourself, leaving him speechless. Jimin would be lying if he said he didn’t hope — at least for a bit — that you would remember him when he mentioned his name.

That was why the moment you appeared once more to work as a part-timer, he was ecstatic. No words can explain it.

He started to look forward to work every day — coming to his own bakery to see you even when you didn’t remember him, but he would still gladly take whatever he can to be around you.

Once he sets the tray of unbaked cinnamon rolls into the oven, his phone buzzes. As soon as he reads the text, his heart drops a little.

[ 7:08 AM ] You: Sorry, I cant come to work today. Not feeling well.

He types, ‘That’s okay. get well soon, y/n :)’

But it left undelivered. Did your phone die? He wonders.

Jimin can’t help shake the weird feeling bubbling inside. So, he messages Jungkook.

[ 7:15 AM ] Jimin: y/n isn’t feeling well today. do u mind checking up on her ???

But of course, Jungkook didn’t read the message until a few hours later. That boy enjoys gaming all night.

[ 12:03 PM ] Jungkook: what?

[ 12:03 PM ] Jungkook: for real ?? since when does she get sick? that girl has a fucking high immunity. she never even once got a cold during the semester

Jimin furrowed his brows at that.

[ 12:04 PM ] Jimin: still, go check up on her pls. she’s ur friend too

[ 12:04 PM ] Jungkook: yeah, omw

It hasn’t even been an hour later when Jungkook rushes into the bakery — earning surprised and curious glances from the customers who were chattering among themselves. “Hyung—“ he catches his breath as he stands in front of the counter. “I think you need to fix—“ Huff. “—I mean go to Y/N’s house yourself.

Jimin blinks in confusion.

“You... You’re Mochi, aren’t you?”

At the mention of that name, blood drains from Jimin’s face instantly.

She remembers...?

“How did you—”

“What matters is, you need to fix it, hyung. You’re the only one who can. She’s not herself, right now. I've known her for a few years and it takes a lot for her to react like this. So, please, you should talk about it.”

“Okay,” Jimin breathes out. “Do you mind closing the cafe once the customers are all done?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, just go to her, hyung. I’ll handle everything here.”

[ when you were fifteen: before the accident ]

“I wish you can teach me math all the time, Mochi,” you giggle, leaning back on the cafe chair. “Everything is easier when you explain it.”

Jimin chuckles at that. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one not paying attention in class.”

Shaking your head rapidly, you deny, “Of course I paid attention! It’s just... I don’t know… It was really boring when my teacher was teaching. He just drones on and on without stopping.”

With an amused hum, Jimin stands up. “I’ll get ready to leave. I’ll walk you home.”

After a few minutes, you head out of the cafe with Jimin behind you. Shivering against the cool night air, you draw closer to the boy. Instinctively, Jimin offers you his open hand which you accepted with no hesitance.

Little did he know, every time he does this, it makes your heart beat a little faster at the way your hand fits well in his. And you savour it.

The build up of feelings has been going on for a while now. Maybe a few months. You’ve developed a crush on him. Like, how can you not? Jimin possesses charming qualities that no one else has. Not to mention how kind and warm of a person he is.

Meetings in the cafe had you wishing they were dates instead. And you had to let him know.

And tell him you did.

He blinks at first, words sinking into him. Mochi, I think I like you. Like, really, really like you.

His cheeks are pink, you weren’t sure if it's from the cold or his embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.”

Of course. What were you expecting? He only sees you as a little sister.

“No, that’s okay,” you reply quickly, but your heart drops. “It’s just… You know, I wanted to tell you know because you’re really cool, Mochi.”

“Y/N… Listen, this is not a good time—” Abruptly, he stops, catching your wrist on his. “I want you to hide in the playground.”

“What?”

“Hide, please. I will explain everything later.”

You want to run away from him. But the pleading look on his face makes you listen.

“There he is!” You hear an unfamiliar shout.

Cursing under his breath, Jimin quickly pushes you under the slide. “Wait here.”

With your own ragged breathing, you struggle to keep yourself as quiet as possible, biting down a hiss from the sting of your scraped knees. Tears pool in your eyes as you wait, hidden behind one of the playground’s slides and out of sight of any possible passerby.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ Present time ]

Jimin reaches your house, his heart beating fast against his chest with a box of cinnamon rolls in hand.

You are home alone and Jungkook has left the door unlocked.

Letting himself in, Jimin glances around. Everything still looks the same as back then. He went to your house once to tutor you. And he still can remember that day clearly.

Climbing up the stairs, he reaches your room. With shaking hands, he knocks on the door.

Silence.

A moment or two passes then your door opens. Jimin braces for the anger you’d throw at him.

But nothing comes.

You merely stand there, eyes glassy as they lock on his.

“Y/N...” He mutters, torn between to reach out or not. But you leave the door open as you sit on your bed. Jimin enters your familiar room, still surprised at how it still looks the same. And his eyes fall on a notebook — the notebook you never let him read — on the table.

“Why are you here?” you ask, voice trembling.

“I wanted to check up on you—”

“Why?”

Jimin knows at once what you are asking.

He approaches you sitting on the edge of the bed. He kneels down, peering up with those chocolate eyes of his to meet your downcast stare — like those times when he wants to talk to you and you refuse to look at him.

“Do… Do you still remember me?” Your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

“Y/N…” The lack of surprise in his voice answers it. He still remembers you as you recall the once shocked expression on his face when you first introduce yourself. Now, it all made sense.

“W-Why didn’t you tell me?” A sob escapes your lips. “Do you not want me to remember—”

He shakes his head, denying it quickly. “No! Of course not. I just… I was ecstatic actually when it was you who came to work for me.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” Voice cracking. “You knew me—”

Clearly in conflict, he sighs, “I don’t want you to remember your traumatic memories… Remembering me might cause you more pain.”

“But it didn’t. Those memories, from what I can remember there’s nothing—”

“That’s what your parents told me, Y/N.”

Eyes widening, you gape at him as tears cascade down your face.

“You were seriously injured back then. The doctor said it will be best for you to let your own memories come to you in their own time. And I had to leave this place... I came by after your operation and... I wanted to say goodbye but I was told it was best to not see you any longer to prevent anymore distress—”

“But you are important to me!” You cut him off. Then turning quieter, “You are important to me…”  You say between sobs.

Covering your eyes with your hand, you whimper when Jimin engulfs you in a hug. “I’m sorry…” He murmurs, caressing your head. “I’m so sorry…”

His heart breaks at your current state, tightening his hold on you, who’s crying into his chest. Years of buried regret and longing resurface. He had envisioned many times on how you would remember him. But he fails to realise how much it can hurt you when your memories return. If only he can turn back time, he will take that chance to save you from the misery of your memory loss.

Yet, all he can do now is to hold you close, begging you for forgiveness and hope that you’d let him stay by your side.

“So, let me get this straight, you—” Jungkook points his straw at you. “—and Jimin hyung were childhood friends—” He pierces the plastic cover of his milk tea. “—and he used to tutor you in a cafe.”

Nodding, you purse your lips and enjoy your own drink.

You had taken a few days off after the reconciliation to collect your thoughts and confront your parents about what had happened. They have come into terms with their protectiveness of you staying out very late. And you have managed to convince them to let you stay out late as long as you let them know.

You were planning to stay in bed all day if it wasn’t for Jungkook who barged into your room like he owns the place, after he claimed that Jimin lets him off from work early — which you doubt honestly, it’s more of Jungkook escaping from work — and decided to drag you to the nearest milk tea shop.

“Is something weird?” you blurt out.

“Did you by any chance, I don’t know...” Jungkook mutters. “Have feelings for each other?”

You nearly choke on your tapioca pearl and rapidly you shake your head. “No! That’s—”

Jungkook narrows his stare at you, sipping his drink as you continue to blabber, “I mean, I knew him since I was like, what? Twelve? He never sees me that way.”

“Maybe he didn’t back then.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean both of you are adults now. Aren’t things different?”

You snort at his words. “He always sees the little girl in me, Jungkook. So, please, don’t make things weird, alright? I can literally see your head gearing.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh. “Alright, if you say so. But how about you?”

Sipping your drink, you lift a brow at him.

“Do you like him?”

“Of course, I do.”

“I meant like, like him.”

“Kookie, what are you? Five?”

He snorts at your response. “Five heads taller than you—” Your glare shuts him up. “Okay, but do you see him as someone special?”

An exasperated sigh escapes your lips. “Why are we discussing this? We’re just friends. Who coincidentally are childhood friends as well.”

“You sure?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh once more. “What are you expecting me to say?”

“What do you think of him?”

Almost at once, the words flow easily out of your mouth. “He’s a caring person and he knows how to comfort someone when they’re having a bad day.”

“You mean, he knows how to comfort you when you’re having a bad day yourself,” Jungkook chuckles.

You blink at that.

“Look, I’m not implying anything but he was worried as hell when I told him about you the other day. Even nearly left his bakery without supervision. That’s when yours truly—” He points at himself. “—came in.”

And the question that swims in the back of your mind disappears. “So, it is you, you overgrown rabbit. You told him about me—”

“Well, you can’t blame me. You should be thanking me instead. It’s because of me you both finally reconciled. Admit it, you’re happy — happier, in fact.”

And you can’t deny it. Jungkook has been one of those people who’d look out for you. Yes, even when he can be a pain in the ass sometimes, or just loves to hear the “piping hot” tea of what’s happening in your life.

Sighing in defeat, you murmur, “Even if I do like him...” You shake your head. “No, it shouldn’t even matter in the first place.”

Noticing your shuttering expression, Jungkook thankfully does not press the subject further. Nor does he question why. And you are grateful for him.

“Interesting. So, you do like him.”

Scratch that, your best friend is still a pain in the ass.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Standing in front of the bakery cafe, you released a deep breath.

Through the glass door, Jungkook is helping out at the cashier counter, serving beverages and desserts to dine-in customers. However, Jimin is nowhere in sight.

Releasing a deep breath, the bell of the door rings which signals your entrance. Jungkook notices you at once before he points to the kitchen.

You rush inside — stopping abruptly a few steps away from him — now, regarding the man differently. He was the boy who has been your comfort for so many occasions after all.

Jimin is icing cupcakes, his eyes focusing on his task and you can’t help but smile at the sight.

With your memories — of kindness, warmth, and friendship — now fully returned, you remember how you were always enamoured watching Jimin work. You’d watch him make drinks in the cafe when you had no homework to do. You’d sit at the bar, munching on cookies-of-the-day as your eyes followed Jimin’s movements.

A few moments pass, Jimin’s gaze shifts to you briefly and double-takes. He curses under his breath, cupcake slipping from his grip — icing spilling on the marble counter. “Hey, you’re back—” He quickly grabs a cloth and wipes off the cream before he turns to face you properly, grinning from ear-to-ear. “—you didn’t tell me you’re coming in today.”

He opens his arms and your legs move of its own accord, following your instinct as you close the distance between you and him — wrapping your arms around his waist.

You weren’t surprised at how your younger self used to have a big fat crush on him. He was and always will still be your Mochi. The guy who treated you to your favourite sweets, who knows how you like your caramel macchiato the best, and who never fails to put butterflies in your stomach.

Breathing his sweet scent, you remember the time you’d ask him for hugs whenever you were down and your younger self had even claimed once that his hugs were magical as it was written in your diary. To quote it, “Mochi gives the BEST BEST hugs in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD”.

“Your hugs…” you mumble, eyes closed. “They’re still the best…”

Jimin merely tightens his hold on you. That is until a force — appearing in the form of Jeon Jungkook — shatters the serene atmosphere, bringing you back to reality. “Hyung! Oh—”

Abruptly, you both pull away from each other. Jungkook stands awkwardly, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“What is it?” Jimin breaks the silence, composed as ever.

“Uh, need more cupcakes. The ones on the display are finished…”

“Right,” Jimin turns to you. “Y/N, can you help me ice the rest of the cupcakes?”

Nodding, you turn to the employee’s room, putting your things in the locker and grabbing an apron.

Hugging Jimin seems so natural that you fail to consider how weird it looks to the people around you. Jungkook’s awkward silence proves that.

Your thoughts are swimming in confusion. And once again those butterflies appear in your stomach. Fanning your heated cheeks with your hands, you take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

Your childhood crush is gone. You’re just happy to have Mochi back in your life. That’s all. That should be all.

One afternoon, you mindlessly clean up the kitchen. Due to the public holiday, the bakery is closing earlier, and your thoughts have drifted back to the past.

You remember the night of the incident when Jimin walked you home after he had lost those men who chased after him. He stopped you for a moment, breaking the silence. “You okay?” Warm concern lacing his tone.

Jaw clenching, you mumbled. “Just a scratch.” Reluctant to give him any longer response.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have shoved you harshly before.” He crouched, inspecting your knees before he peered up to meet your stare.

“It’s fine.”

When you were just a few blocks away from home, Jimin broke the silence. “Listen Y/N—” His footsteps faltered as he reached to touch your shoulder. “—about earlier, I think you shouldn’t have feelings for me, I—”

Abruptly, you pulled your hand away from his, hurt consuming you. “I shouldn’t have feelings for you?”

You wished Jimin had forgotten your spontaneous confession as he nodded, hesitantly.

“Well, I can’t control my feelings. So, just let it be. It’ll be fine.” You glanced at him before walking faster.

The rest of the trip home was tense, full of unanswered questions. Who were those men? Why did they chase after Jimin? Is it really that bad to have feelings for him? Who gave him the right to dictate your feelings?

You felt so childish back then. Recalling the memories makes you cringe at your younger self for overreacting. But you suppose it’s normal for a fifteen year-old girl. And you were able to sense that Jimin wanted to ease the tense atmosphere. But you were too hurt to even give him a chance. You needed time to process what happened that day.

However, one minute Jimin had stopped you again, desperate to appease you. And the next minute, someone ran towards him with a bat in hand. It’s as if time slowed down, you moved before a harsh impact landed on you.

Your mind brings you back to reality, and instinctively you touch the part where your head was struck with your free hand.

“Y/N? Are you done cleaning up?”

Jimin’s voice startles you and you nearly drop the mop’s handle from your grasp.

“Yes,” you manage to say. And somehow you can’t look at him in the eye.

“What’s wrong?” Out of instinct, he cups your face to look at you in the eye. And hell, your heartbeat gradually increases as you can smell the sweet scent of bread from him along with a tinge of his cinnamon scent.

Mind blanking out at the close proximity, the only intelligible response you can say is, uhhh. Your grip on the mop handle tightens as your palm grows clammy.

He’s gorgeous. That’s one thing for sure.

“Hey, why are you blushing?”

Blinking rapidly, you watch his eyes turn into those crescent moons and a giggle escapes his lips as he pulls away, grabbing the mop from your hold.

“I’ll put this back. You nearly snapped it in half, you know.”

“Yeah,” you nod, mind whirling and you blabber the first thing in your mind. “I have a pet fish.”

“Huh?”

Realising how random you sounded, you clear your throat. “I just remember I had to come home early today, since Mr. Goldy is waiting for me.”

“Ooh, that’s—”

But you’ve run for the lockers, quickly changing out of your work attire.

“Thanks for today, Mochi. See you tomorrow!” You say and run out of the bakery without sparing him another glance.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“What are you exactly doing here?”

Unflinching, you answer your best friend monotonously, “Buying a fish.”

“You don’t have a tank at home.”

“Exactly, that’s why I’m looking for one now.”

“But why?”

“Why not?”

Jungkook lets out a sigh. “You’ve been acting weird all week, Y/N.”

You ignore his words, eyes scanning through the fishes of different colours and kinds.

“Oh! These ones are pretty.” Jungkook comments, earning your attention.

“Excuse me?” You call one of the workers there. “I was wondering if this fish is suitable for beginners.”

The worker nods, smiling. “Yes, these are what we call the Betta fish. Their scales are beautiful and they are also easy to take care of. Would you like to purchase them?”

You respond with a brief ‘yes’.

“Now, all you need is a tank,” Jungkook says.

“We provide delivery services for the tank. I’d recommend buying this one.” The worker points at one of the tanks. “In the meantime, you can purchase the fishbowl for now.”

And with that you have a new pet fish and a brand new fish bowl in hand — specifically Jungkook’s, because you gotta put those muscles into good use — and you head back home. On the way back, Jungkook suddenly clears his throat. “So… What’s up with you?”

“What?”

“Let me summarise what just happened,” he says. “I had the day off today, and suddenly you called me to meet you in a fish store, and you have been acting all weird and somehow out of all the nice shades of blue fishes in the tank, you chose the ugly yellow—”

You kick his shin in retaliation. “It’s not yellow, it’s gold, dumbass. How dare you say that in front of Lady Goldilocks.”

“Oh, wow, now it even has a name.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I seriously can’t believe you chose this one out of all the other colours. It reminds me of Jimin hyung—” And he gapes at you. “No way. Is it because he likes this colour?”

You blink in realisation. Jimin does like this colour.

“Okay, ‘fess up. What’s up with you?”

You let out a defeated sigh. “I like him.”

Jungkook looks unamused.

“I mean like, like him. And I need to get over him.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Why would Hyung want that?””

“I shouldn’t like him, Kook. He told me once and, I don’t know, I just can’t control my feelings. I don’t want to lose him again and I’m scared that he’ll be gone if he knows—”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Jungkook grasps your shoulder with his free hand. “—I can understand what you’re feeling, Y/N. How about let me prove to you that Jimin won’t be gone even when you have feelings for him?”

“I swear, Jeon Jungkook, if you utter a single word about this conversation—”

“No!” He denies repeatedly. “I won’t. Promise. I can prove it to you another way. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, then. How?”

“I have a plan. To take the title as your number one best friend once and for all—”

“Who says you are even at the top?”

“Aren’t I? You told me once.” Jungkook fishes his phone out of his jacket, taps a few times on his screen before he shows you a video of your drunk self a few months ago after exam week.

“Kookieee, I think you’re my number one best friend! So proud to have someone like you in my life—”

You try to reach for his phone, cheeks burning in embarrassment, as you shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster. However, Jungkook being Jungkook merely cackles at that. Your voice from the video still continues, “—you’re like Mochi—” Your present self tenses at that.

“Who’s Mochi?” Jungkook asked curiously in the video.

“Shhhhh… We don’t speak of that name here, m’kay? Mochi is gone. So you are best friend number one!”

Jungkook stops the video, tucking his phone back to his pocket. “I asked you once who Mochi was when you were sober. But you didn’t remember back then. So I never asked again until you mentioned the name ‘Mochi’ once more a few days ago.”

Gaping, you stop walking as the stunned silence falls over you.

“I think your subconscious had always known about him. And it shows how special he is to you.” When you’re about to deny that, Jungkook shushes you. “Don’t try to deny, Y/N. Even before you knew he was Mochi you already liked him.”

“I hate that you’re starting to look like a rooster. Were you always this cocky?”

Your best friend merely shrugs. “So, here’s the plan. As I was saying, with my ‘number one best friend’ title under threat, we’re going to demote Jimin as your boyfriend! It’s a win-win situation!”

“What? I never even asked for him to be my boyfriend but wait— Don’t you mean promote?”

“Y/N, as much as I love your dumb ass, you tend to be quite demanding with people. Hopefully, he knows how to handle your present self.”

“Jeon Jungkook, please don’t make me regret this.”

A few days after the conversation with Jungkook, the boy gets to work as fast as possible, and by work, it means work to get on Jimin’s nerves instead of actually being helpful in the cafe.

Jungkook has become noticeably clingy, or overall, just more touchy with you. It’s not like it’s anything new in all honesty. Throughout college, the relationship between the both of you is purely platonic. Your other college friends knew this and seeing the both of you cuddle wouldn’t be a strange sight. Jimin, however, isn’t one of your college friends and Jungkook seems to have taken advantage of this. Thus, he begins to work in the bakery almost every day, claiming just to see you.

At first Jimin showed no reaction since Jungkook is a good friend of his. But he has grown visibly irritated lately while Jungkook revels in pressing the older one’s buttons further.

“Jungkook…”

“Hmm?”

“Can you please stop invading my personal space?”

“But it’s not going to work if I don’t— Oof!” You shove him away before going back to your task — placing the cupcakes on the display tray — annoyance building up at Jungkook’s disruptions.

“I’m going to file a restraining order on you at this rate.”

He huffs, moving towards you once more. “Don’t you want to prove that Jimin is going to be pissed if he sees me being affectionate to you?”

You shake your head. “I just want to work in peace.”

“Hmph. You’re no fun.”

“Cuz you’re the one not working.”

“Hey, I’m helping here voluntarily.”

You ignore his words, focusing on your task while Jungkook starts whining for you to give him attention. “Kook, I fucking swear if you don’t get your hands off—”

Jimin’s voice rings “Y/N, are the cupcakes...” He trails as soon as he enters the kitchen, freezing at the sight of Jungkook wrapping his arms around your waist, snuggling his dumb head on the crook of your neck.

“He’s going to rage,” Jungkook whispers, laughing softly.

“Uh, Jungkook can I talk to you?” Jimin asks, eyes noticeably narrowing as his tone tenses.

“Finally,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, before he lets go of you and faces Jimin. “Sure, Hyung.”

You take that cue to leave, bringing the freshly iced cupcakes to the display counter, leaving Jungkook and Jimin alone in the kitchen.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“What’s been going on with you lately? You come here to work everyday but all I can see is you busy flirting with Y/N.” Jimin throws the younger one an unamused glare.

Jungkook answers easily, “I do my job, Hyung. And so what if I do flirt with Y/N?”

“You can’t,” Jimin blurts out, earning a questioning look from Jungkook. “You just can’t.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Do you like Y/N?”

“Of course, she’s my best friend.”

Jimin shoots Jungkook another unamused look at his answer.

“I’m going to tell her how I feel in three days,” Jungkook continues.

Jimin’s stomach drops at that statement. However, at the same time the urge to let you know how he truly feels increases. But the thought of the impending rejection after hurting you and causing your memory loss makes him think twice.

Maybe Jungkook deserves you more than him — he can protect and support you while Jimin has failed.

With a shaky breath, Jimin mutters, “Take care of her, alright?”

Obviously, his response catches Jungkook off guard. “What?”

“Take good care of Y/N, JK. I’m seriously counting on you.”

“Wait—“ Jungkook looks downright flustered at the unexpected response. “Hyung, wait.”

“What?” Now it’s Jimin’s turn to be confused.

Jungkook clears his throat. “Just give me an honest answer, hyung. No lies.”

A pause.

“Do you like Y/N? As in more than friends?”

Jimin nods without hesitance.

Jungkook mumbles something under his breath that Jimin is sure it sounds like, freaking idiots.

“Go tell her how you feel, Hyung. And tell her as soon as possible.”

“But you—”

“It’s to push you to confess to her. I don’t see Y/N that way.” Jungkook sighs. “Honestly, what would the both of you be without me?”

Jimin stands in the kitchen, speechless, as Jungkook continues to ramble how significant his role is in between your relationship and how you and Jimin owe him so much.

“So, yes, go tell her how you feel, hyung. She’ll listen to whatever you’ll say.”

With a newfound resolve, hope sparks in Jimin’s heart. “I will.”

To say that Jimin is nervous would be an understatement. He had barely slept a wink last night, thinking of all the words and how he would explain why he had left so suddenly and confess his feelings to you. Jungkook has been a supportive friend, even if he does push Jimin’s buttons along the way. However, Jimin knows that it was his own way of showing encouragement.

You are cleaning the rest of the tables of the cafe and Jimin can’t take his eyes off you, staring at you through the small window opening between the kitchen and the counter area.

“Are we done for today, Mochi?” Your voice snaps him out of his daydream.

“Yeah!” Jimin continues to wipe the kitchen counter quickly, replying almost too enthusiastically before he clears his throat. “Do you have plans tonight, Y/N?”

You enter the kitchen and once again Jimin’s heartbeat rises. “Nope. I’m going straight back home after this. Lady Goldilocks is waiting for me.”

Lady Goldilocks. Jimin chuckles at the mention of your fish’s name. He wonders if one day he’s able to see the pet fish for himself. He had asked what happened to Mr Goldy and you had become flustered at that since you didn’t know the fish was female. So, now, you have changed the fish’s name. Yet, somehow Jimin got an inkling that there is more to the story. He had asked Jungkook — to which the boy had valiantly refused to utter a word about it and had babbled, “Huh? Fish? What fish? Is that for dinner?”

Once the both of you finished closing up the bakery cafe, Jimin taps on your shoulder before you had the chance to go back home.

“May I walk you home?”

You blink, processing his words then nodding rapidly. “S-Sure.”

Jimin smiles warmly at you. It’s easy in fact. Just being in your presence always brings happiness into his heart. You had grown into an amazing person and even more attractive.

Something about you had always captivated Jimin since the first time you met him in the cafe where he used to do his part time work. Your curious eyes were always following him as he took the customers’ orders and honestly, it was very endearing.

Comfortable silence falls upon you both, walking through the asphalt pathway and naturally, Jimin opens his palms, extending it towards you.

You stare at that for a moment and clasp his hand with yours. Jimin weaves your fingers together, bringing you closer to him as you continue to walk back home.

“Do you mind if we take a little detour?”

You nod at his words.

Once Jimin reaches the destination, he can sense your eyes glance curiously at the empty hill. He pulls you up onto the top of the hill, sitting down on the grass while he pats the space next to him and you follow suit.

“Look up,” Jimin whispers, and you did.

A quiet gasp escapes your lips at the sight of twinkling stars that scatters across the dark sky.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Jimin voices out. “Someone made me realise how beautiful the stars are…” He falters. “A-And she had never left my mind all those years. One of my deepest regrets is that I wasn’t able to say goodbye when I had to leave.”

You hear his words, yet you stay silent — an encouragement for him to continue to speak what’s on his mind.

“My family was in a difficult financial position back then and my dad had done things I wasn’t proud of…” Jimin’s eyes turn glassy and faraway, even when he sets his gaze up. “And one of them is that he had made a deal with loan sharks without the guarantee of paying them back… And of course, they were angry.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath.

“I once thought that probably I could still stay here back then. Even more so when I met you. But I was wrong. Those men started to chase after me and because of that, you—” He shudders. “—got injured. And that night my parents had made plans to leave without me and my brother knowing.”

He turns to look at you. “I never got to apologise to you for causing that. I should be the one to protect you but… I failed. For that, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Jimin…” You say softly. “It’s not your fault. I was the one who jumped in front of you when the man came after you. It’s my own choice because you are special to me.”

“But I could have—”

You shush him with a pointer finger in front of his lips for a few moments. “You don’t have to be sorry anymore, Mochi. It’s not your fault. And what matters now is to focus on the present and look to the future, right?”

He nods, emotions swimming inside his chocolate eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought—”

“For telling you that you shouldn’t have feelings for me.”

And you lapse into silence. He remembers…?

“I hate that that has hurt you. I shouldn’t have said that. But I was happy but desperate too since my family—”

“Jimin.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“What do you see me as, now?”

He blinks. All the practiced words on how he would tell you his feelings dissipate from his mind as he blankly stares at you. “I… I like you.” His voice grows quieter. “More than friends…”

“And if I said you shouldn’t have feelings for me?”

A flash of hurt crosses his eyes briefly. But he answers, nonetheless, “I would do what you want.”

“So, you reciprocate my feelings now?”

“H-huh?”

“I like you too. More than friends. In fact, I think my feelings have grown for you ever since I found out you’re Mochi.”

It takes a few moments for Jimin to process your words. He gapes, mouth opening and closing.

“You are resembling Lady Goldilocks right now.”

“What?”

Your cheeks flush. “Lady Goldilocks is a Betta fish. She was the golden one in a tank full of her blue siblings. Jungkook tried persuading me to choose the blue ones since they were more attractive to look at. But all I could see is the gold one since it reminded me of you.”

“I like golden colours…” Jimin mumbles in realisation.

“Exactly,” you let out a sheepish laugh, eyes turning to look back up into the sky. Before Jimin can respond, your eyes brighten up. “Look! A shooting star!”

Jimin snaps his gaze up as well.

“Hurry, make a wish!” You then close your eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear. Jimin follows suit, making his own wish.

As soon as you both finish making your wishes, you turn to face him once more.

“Are you still sorry for saying that to me?”

Jimin nods, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Hell, he thinks he would always regret hurting you that time.

“I know how you can make it up to me then.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

“W-What?” He splutters.

“Unless you don’t want—“ Yet, your words die on your throat as Jimin moves closer to you, eliminating the distance between you both as he cups your face just like that time in the bakery.

Without another word, he leans down, pressing his lips on yours softly while you place your hands on top of his before he presses further, brows furrowing as he kisses you fervently. For the time being, all that matters is just you and him. He caresses your cheeks and you run your hands down to wrap around his waist until you can feel his heart beating against his chest.

After pulling away — both of you catching your breaths — Jimin presses his forehead against yours, running his thumb over your lips while you were unable to open your eyes for a few moments at the burst of emotions that is coursing through you.

“I’ve imagined this moment so many times,” he admits. “My wish finally came true.” And you smile at that.

“My wish also came true because of you, Mochi...”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Sitting on one of the tables, your eyes can’t take themselves off Jimin as he serves customers. Today is your day off and you decided to pay him a visit in the bakery.

“You’re drooling.”

Your gaze snaps up to your best friend who sits across you after placing a cinnamon roll on the table for you. Jungkook continues, “I swear I’m going to vomit one of these days if I see you or Jimin hyung throwing each other— what was that called? It’s an old term— Oh! Goo-goo eyes one more time.”

“Shut up, Jeon. I’m not.” You reach for the roll, taking a bite.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah right, you basically either stare at him like he placed stars in the sky or like you want to tear off his clothes—”

You choke on the roll, quickly reaching for your glass of water before you throw your napkin at his face. Jungkook cackles at that before he resumes his act, sighing. “This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have intervened. I didn’t know you’d be like this. My best friend is so uncool now.”

“Y/N is what?” You perk up at Jimin’s voice.

“Whipped,” Jungkook mutters before he takes his cue to leave. He stands up, passing by Jimin after shooting the older one a teasing glance.

Jimin sits across from you, and he instinctively reaches for your hand on the table. “How was your day?” And you swear you can hear Jungkook making a gagging sound amidst the chatter of the customers.

“Good. I finished my chores at home earlier today. So, I thought I would come visit.”

Minutes pass by quickly as you chatter with Jimin. He had almost forgotten to go back to work until Jungkook reminded him. When it is time to close up the bakery, you watch him wash the remaining mixing bowls while perching on one of the cleaned counters of the kitchen.

“You know, I could use some help,” Jimin teases, drying his hands on his apron.

A smile curls up on the corner of your lips, eyes following his movements — drawing closer to where you are. “Well, I think you got it all handled, Mochi.”

Once he reaches you, he pulls you to wrap your legs around his waist while your arms rest on his shoulders — encircling around his neck. You both stare at each other and he pushes a strand of stray hair away from your face, tucking it behind an ear while his other hand settles on your waist.

“Sometimes, I still can’t believe that you’re really here with me,” You admit. “Just like a sweet dream.”

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not, Y/N...” He leans to give you a chaste kiss. “... we’ll make up for the lost time we didn’t spend together.”

“Promise?”

He softly smiles at you. “Promise.”

author’s note: this was originally intended to be posted on jimin’s birthday but well i decided to add more stuff in it. thus, i am late alskflsdda so yes, i hope you guys enjoy this fic and feedbacks are always appreciated !! thank you for reading ♡

[libsterslobsters]

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

---------‐-----------------------------------

“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as��� intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

[prettywordsyouleft]

MonX Hospital | Hyungwon

Pairing: Chae Hyungwon x reader

Genre: dietitian – hospital au / romance / fluff

Warnings: medical and nutrition terms, a little hint of enemies to lovers but not really enough to label it as that

Word count: 3719

Index: Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | Changkyun

“Holly,” Seungwoo called out and the registered nurse turned around to your group standing there, a bright smile crossing her lips. “Can you give us a hint?”

“Let me guess,” she started, pointing at the four of you with a playful smirk. “Mentoring season?”

“Who’s the best doctor to be assigned to?” Soyou asked earnestly and Jeongmin beside you nodded.

“Give us your expertise from working alongside them all.”

The nurse approached the group of students, folding her arms across her chest. “Well, that would be Doctor Coffee.”

“Doctor who?” Seungwoo questioned, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Ah, don’t mess with us, Holly!”

“I’m serious, tell me who you all got?” the nurse instructed and then once you were all done, you listing over Doctor Chae as your assigned registrar, she looked at you smiling a little more. “Doctor Coffee is the best to learn from, I stand by it.”

“Why is he called that?” you wondered and she patted you on the shoulder, departing your little group with ease.

“You’ll find out!”

You weren’t sure what to expect from Holly’s recommendation, especially since she was referring to a dietitian. Maybe, it was just a fun nickname, and Doctor Chae was known to have a cup of coffee each morning. That didn’t stand out as something to refer to him as, over your several years studying a Bachelor of Science and now wrapping up your Masters in Nutrition and Dietetics, you had become accustomed to coffee as a vice for yourself, and the majority of students and health professionals you crossed paths with regularly. Coffee seemed to be the staple brew in the health industry.

In fact, as you headed towards Doctor Chae’s clinical room the following morning, you were carrying a takeout cup along with your assorted learning tools. Knocking once on his door, you smiled brightly when he called out for you to enter.

“Hello, I’m Y/N,” you greeted, placing your things down so you could wipe off your hand and hold it out to the doctor. He peered at you disinterestedly, barely gripping onto your hand before returning his gaze to the screen. Trying not to be offended, you watched him silently, one hand swishing an iced Americano around whilst the other scrolled over a patient’s file.

Finally, the doctor spoke. “How long are you joining my clinic for?”

“A month.”

“Okay,” he simply replied, going back to his notes.

Waiting for direction, you glanced awkwardly around the room. “Where should I set up?”

“Somewhere that suits your needs best and doesn’t interfere with the patient consultations.”

Was Holly right that learning from such a prickly doctor would be best? You grumbled inwardly knowing the others were no doubt assigned to more approachable staff.

Once the remnants of his cold beverage were finished, you were surprised by the change in activity out of the man. He threw the cup in the trash, stood up and stretched a little, ready for his first patient. The mood in the entire office improved tremendously, as if the last drop of coffee had to be consumed before the doctor kicked into gear.

You perked up by this, sitting up at your little station more eagerly.

And then it was go time.

You were immediately thrown into the issues various patients were having, writing down both your own notes and anything Doctor Chae asked of you. He was incredibly engaging with each session, both with the patient and with you. It was as if you were in a different office than the one you first stepped into.

The young doctor was brimming with knowledge and helpful tips to both you and his clients. He identified issues in their lifestyle and eating plans and explained everything in a way that was informative without sounding too jargon-loaded.

You almost had to wipe your chin for drool at one point; it had hung open in awe for far too long.

The first week of your practical module went by in a blur that it wasn’t until you were starting your next week in Doctor Chae’s office that you picked up on some observations of your mentor.

You had already become accustomed to his indifference in the morning before his first caffeine hit for the day, and there were several other instances where he returned with another cup within his hand from a meeting or lunch, and had even asked when you went to buy yourself a juice if you could get him a coffee whilst at the cafe last Friday. It hadn’t stood out to you as a problem until he sat down with a man in his early 40s who was facing several dietary concerns.

“How many cups of coffee are you drinking throughout the day?”

The man rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “About four to six, depending on the workload.”

“That’s a lot of coffee,” Doctor Chae mentioned and before you could hold it in, a snort left you. Both men within the room glanced at you as you flushed red, apologising quietly and then repositioned your laptop in attempts to deflect the attention away from you. The doctor cleared his throat a little before continuing with his questions for the patient. Once he was done with his diagnostics, he listed off various ways to help the man recover from burnout, lower his stress and support all this with a balanced diet – one in which didn’t include as much caffeine.

And once the patient left the room, Doctor Chae shut the door behind his farewell and turned towards you. “What was that?”

“Huh?”

“The snort within my consultation.”

You smiled guiltily. “Sorry.”

“No, tell me why you snorted exactly.”

“Well,” you started, feeling as if you were balancing on a dangerous edge with how intense Doctor Chae’s gaze was upon you. Still, you decided to use facts. “You had five cups of coffee yesterday.”

“And in your clinical impression of me so far, Y/N, are you mocking me?”

“I just found it interesting that your patient was drinking too much caffeine and as someone who is highly regarded as a nutrition expert, you know how bad it is for you and still do the same.”

“Interesting findings,” he responded curtly, returning to his desk. “What are your recommendations?”

“I uh, I don’t-”

“It was an observation you made over me, and I want to know if you were the doctor and I were the patient, what you would recommend.”

You panicked. “I’m not sure.”

“The right response is to lower caffeine intake slowly, ensure that I’m sleeping well and to look for alternatives to help with energy and any other reasons for why we take in too much caffeine as humans.” The doctor looked back at you questioningly. “Correct?”

“Yes.”

“So what would you recommend for me to drink this afternoon, Y/N?”

“More water, for one.”

“Can you go get me the biggest bottle you can find in this complex then?” he instructed, holding out his card. You stood up and took it with a quick nod, dashing out of the office and started your trek across the building to the café at the entrance.

Bumping into Jeongmin halfway, you let out an exasperated wail. He chuckled. “That bad with Doctor Coffee?”

“I have just made my working environment sour,” you lamented and the fellow student looked at you for further information. “Doctor Coffee doesn’t like being called out for not doing as he preaches. I accidentally snorted during clinical hours at a comment he made about caffeine intake and now he’s tasked me with getting him the biggest bottle of water I can find.”

“Rather you than me. Working with Doctor Laing has been a breeze. She’s so laidback.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled and Jeongmin nudged you playfully. You glowered at the path ahead. “I take back all I said about how much I was enjoying learning under him. He’s a narcissist.”

“Some doctors just don’t know how to take their own advice. Maybe he’s embarrassed that you called him out. I bet not many people have.”

You pondered the option and shrugged. “He could be. It wasn’t intentional.”

“Who knows, you might be good for one another. Him with all his expertise and you with your inability to keep quiet when you find fault.”

“Jeongmin!” you growled as your friend departed your side with a skip in his step. “Just you wait until I next see you!”

“Looking forward to it!” he called out across at the atrium with a fond wave. “Until then, may the water guide you towards clarity and peace!”

You huffed indignantly. Today was going to be a long day.

Doctor Chae did decrease his caffeine intake, at least for the remainder of that week. And whilst you tried really hard to keep your opinions to yourself, given he was prickly towards you for an entire day thereafter, you couldn’t help but find more fault with the dietitian's wellbeing.

He didn’t eat nearly enough, the coffee he did religiously still drink simply sloshing around in an almost empty stomach. He was also incredibly picky for someone who boasted to his patients to try and eat a wide range of food types where applicable.

For a successful dietitian, he was seemingly incapable of taking on his own advice.

“Y/N,” the doctor called out and you blinked out of your thoughts, smiling up at the man standing before you. “Are you going to share your observations?”

“The patient was too focused on weight loss-”

“Not those observations, the ones you’re basically sitting on top of your hands so you don’t spill out.”

“I’d rather, not Doctor Chae.”

“Hm, it must be an authoritative thing,” he muttered and then smiled at you. “Please, refer to me as Hyungwon when it’s just us. There. Now you can tell me.”

You laughed a little. “A name doesn’t take away our roles, Doctor Chae.”

“Hyungwon, please,” he repeated and then sat down on the bed beside your station. “Isn’t it annoying to withhold that information?”

“I’d like to keep working with you.”

“It’s that bad?” he guessed with a sigh, rubbing at his face. “I’ve tried with the coffee thing-”

“You barely eat. And what you do pick up is usually processed and only going to give your sugars a sharp boost and then fall rapidly, causing you to reach for the caffeine again. You don’t seem aware of how unbalanced your diet is, at least within this office and I don’t know if you’re tackling underlying medical conditions or live by a specific diet trend, which you and I both know don’t work for the majority of people and leads to unhealthy eating and medical conditions if overused.”

Hyungwon didn’t say anything for a moment, his arms merely remaining folded across his front. And then he broke into a bashful grin. “Feel better?”

“Oh, you have no idea how much,” you breathed and then blinked, your mouth falling agape. “Doctor Chae, I-”

“It’s easier to focus on others and what they eat,” he announced and you bit back the remainder of your apology. He didn’t seem mad this time, in fact, he was visibly flustered and you wondered if Jeongmin had been right the other week. Hyungwon cleared his throat and continued. “I much prefer making sure others are eating well.”

“Who is going to look out for you then?” you questioned and he became thoughtful before shrugging.

“I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Well, its lunchtime right now,” you mentioned, looking at the clock to confirm you were right for his scheduled lunch break. “How about we eat together?”

“Why would you do that? Don’t you meet up with your fellow student friends on break?”

You smiled brightly as you collected your bag. “Today, I’d much rather have lunch with you.”

The doctor was surprisingly out of his element as you dragged him across the road to an eatery, pointing out the different options before settling on a sandwich bar. You insisted that he add more than just meat and cheese to the roll, his uncomfortable expression causing you to giggle when you were seated across from him. “Doctor?”

“It’s very healthy.”

“It should be. A nice balance of carbohydrates, protein and fats. This will keep you going nicely for the rest of the afternoon, don’t you agree?”

“I don’t know if I like you or not, Y/N.”

“Well, I thought the same about you, admittedly,” you confessed, picking up your filled roll with a smile, thinking back to all the times you had worried over your placement in his office. Glancing at the man again, you merely grinned. “But I think I like you now.”

“Huh.”

There was a comfortable silence between you as you ate and when you both headed back across the road to the hospital, you felt lighter than you had all week long. Swinging your arms at your sides, Hyungwon watched you before smirking. “You’re like a kid.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re in a place of work, and you’re too elated.”

“Should I come to this place grumbling and see it as a ten-hour sentence each day?” you wondered and Hyungwon smiled, loosening up his body a little more. You nodded eagerly. “Look at that, you’re more carefree as well!”

“Only until we have patients. Then the game face goes back on,” he instructed and you nodded, giggling as Hyungwon skipped across the atrium towards the Dietetics department.

The next day, you came armed with supplies. You guessed right that the coffee Hyungwon sluggishly made his way through was the only thing he had in the morning and placed a container of porridge in front of him, along with another snack-size pottle containing some fruit. “Y/N, I-”

Giving the doctor a reproachful stare, he groaned at you before eating the entire thing. You noticed he didn’t leave for his mid-morning coffee, and by lunch, he seemed more alert than his usual. Holding up another packed bag of food, you shook it gently. “I made us lunch. It’s nice outside, so shall we go on a picnic?”

“You know, Y/N, anyone would think you’re enjoying yourself right now,” he commented with a pout as you handed over his share of the meal you had made last night to bring today.

“I am.”

“I must admit, you know how to cook well.”

“Is that half the problem? Are you any good in the kitchen?” you asked and Hyungwon grew bashful. “I thought as much.”

“I never prioritised learning how to cook.”

“I bet your grocery list consists of pre-packaged meals.”

“I’m still in charge of you right now, Miss L/N,” he warned with a playful glint in his eye. “Stop calling me out like this.”

“You need to eat better.”

“Do I?”

“I’ll make sure you do!” you proclaimed and the man smiled to himself.

“You’re certainly making a point about it. Though next week is your last with me,” he mentioned carefully and you shrugged.

“My studies are held within this hospital, Hyungwon. It won’t be hard for me to continue this.”

“The bigger question is, why are you wanting to?” he asked boldly, staring at you with that intense gaze of his. You blinked a couple of times before smiling.

“I want to help you look after yourself. You do such an amazing job for others, someone should help you.”

“This won’t get you brownie points on my final assessment for you.”

You gasped noisily as he chuckled. “I was never aiming for that!”

“I suppose it does make sense for a dietitian to practice what he preaches.”

“Precisely,” you agreed smugly, holding up your bottle of water to clink with his. Laughing together, you finished your lunch before heading back in to work on the afternoon clinic.

As promised, even when your time in Hyungwon’s office came to an end, you still made a point of checking in with him. You couldn’t do the breakfast run but the doctor had taken to sending you pictures to make sure you left him alone about eating first thing in the morning.

And he had sent you one this morning which had you leaving your study session in annoyance, marching over to the outpatients sector of the hospital and towards the Dietetics department. Checking with the reception whether Doctor Chae was with or without a patient, you waited outside for him to wrap up with the patient inside before you barged through him when he went to shut the door after they left.

“Y-Y/N!” he exclaimed hastily, darting in front of you. Glancing around the office, you then glared at the man before you.

“Would you like me to tell you of my findings, doctor?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You see, I noticed that the lighting in today’s photo didn’t quite match the brightness of the world outside. Yesterday was overcast but today is not. And upon inspection, I see a coffee cup and no red and white spotted container. Funny, isn’t it? Because I’m sure you sent me a photo of your breakfast today.”

“I was in a rush.”

“Not that much of a rush that you couldn’t stop for coffee, Hyungwon.”

“You came all the way over here from class to tell me off for sending you the same photo twice? Come on Y/N!” he pointed out with a forced laugh, though you didn’t join him. Hyungwon gulped. “Fine, I’ll take you out for lunch.”

“You better.”

“I promise, now can I get back to seeing my patients?”

“I feel like you’ve become my patient,” you mentioned with a scowl, turning on your heel as you headed back to the university level of the hospital.

Breakfast and lunches together soon morphed into dinners as well. You hadn’t realised it, but you spent an awful lot of time together now. Standing in Hyungwon’s kitchen using his brand new cooking equipment, since he hadn’t really owned any before, you were almost done with dinner when Hyungwon appeared post-shower.

It should have dawned on you a whole lot sooner than now just how things had changed between you and the doctor.

You were unnaturally quiet over dinner and Hyungwon watched you carefully, putting down his utensils midway. “You figured out I didn’t eat breakfast again, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

“I slept through my alarm. But this time I did get a blueberry muffin along with the coffee,” he continued, though when you didn’t praise his efforts, Hyungwon paused, narrowing his gaze. “What’s wrong with you?”

“N-Nothing.”

“Are you not happy with dinner? I thought you had done a good job,” he attempted, looking at his plate and then back to your face, still perturbed. “Y/N, you’re going to have to tell me so I can-”

“I think I’m in love with you,” you blurted out and Hyungwon rocked back in his chair, unmoving once the force of his action settled the seat again. You clamped your eyes shut. “I never realised just how much we’ve been acting like this for.”

“Acting like what?”

“Me coming into your world and making you eat each day. It was never my place.”

“No, but I’ve appreciated it. My health hasn’t been this good in years.”

“I stopped eating with my friends because I wanted to eat with you. And I’ve had fun doing so. We’ve been eating together for almost a year now.”

“Have we?” Hyungwon thought for a moment and then nodded. “So we have.”

“I’m guessing you don’t feel the same way,” you commented, pushing back your seat and standing up. “I should go.”

“Wait, Y/N!” he called as he came after you, taking a hold of your wrist and pulling you around. “I’m just confused about how you came to blurt out that you might love me when all you’ve done is talk about eating together.”

Looking up into his eyes as you tried to hold back your emotions from the sudden realisation, you inhaled a deep breath. “I could get used to doing more than just eating with you.”

“Last night we watched a movie together,” he pointed out and you nodded.

“See, we’re basically like a couple. You’re always helping me when I have problems too.”

Hyungwon smiled then, pushing your hair out of your face. “Can I tell you something?”

“Please, I feel like I’m going mad with how calm you are right now.”

“I thought we were already a couple,” he confessed and you merely stared back at him.

“What?”

“From when you were still being mentored by me. That last couple of weeks together, you insisted we ate together and treated me as if I was someone special to you. I knew back then I liked being around you. I mean, you were the first to point out just how easily I was forgetting myself. Your attention on me made me crave it more often.”

“Then why haven’t we made it official?”

Hyungwon shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t think we needed to. I liked being with you and you seemed to like it too.”

“I do,” you agreed softly. “Why didn’t I connect what I felt for you was like I would of a partner until I saw you drying off your hair?”

“Did it feel highly domestic? You cooking dinner whilst I showered away my long day?” he offered and you reached up to place your hands on his shoulders.

“Can you continue that scene?”

“Hm, maybe I should thank the chef for her amazing meal.”

“That would be nice.”

Leaning in towards your lips, you closed your eyes and waited for impact. Instead, you felt the breath he expelled fall across your face, along with two words. “Thank you.”

“I think I’m going to kill you now,” you responded, snapping your eyes open right when Hyungwon pressed himself into you, kissing away your annoyance at his playful approach. Your eyes fluttered shut again and you fell within the kiss, humming in delight when he finally pulled away.

Hyungwon smiled at you affectionately. “Should we go finish dinner?”

“And watch a movie?”

“Then fall asleep against one another because it’s gotten late?”

You smiled, side-hugging the man as he moved you back towards the table in his apartment. “And eat breakfast together for the first time?”

“I really like the sound of that.”

_________________

Next: Jooheon

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[MONSTA X Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[fuwafuwagem]

Client file: CHISAKI, Kai

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Chisaki Kai | Overhaul & Reader Additional Tags: Amputee Overhaul, Tartarus, don't ask me what readers job is, they are a PROFESSIONAL!

Session 2 here!

Your supervisor had advised you to be wary of the villain as you headed out, and you’d simply rolled your eyes. Being vigilant around villains was part of the job. You’d almost asked if he really had so little faith in your skills but had instead opted for silence. No point in picking senseless fights. It was less a moment of being undermined after all, and more a request to be particularly cautious.

Overhaul had been a very dangerous man.

You’d thoroughly looked over the file on Kai Chisaki on your way to Tartarus. It was quite an extensive read. From his takeover of the Shie Hassaikai, his grotesque abuse and experimentation of an unconsenting minor, his drug distribution network, and countless deaths at his hand, Chisaki had no doubt been a true villain.

The operative word being had.

The situation had changed significantly somehow between Chisaki’s battle with the heroes and his eventual arrest, and that change was the reason you were now at Tartarus.

Various security protocols were initiated throughout your long walk to his cell. You silently endured each, as you had many times before. The officer led you through the halls of the maximum-security prison until your destination was reached and simply advised you to call for him when you were done.

Kai Chisaki sat opposite you behind a glass screen. His shoulders were slouched forward, and he only offered you the briefest eye contact as you took a seat at the small desk you’d been provided with, laying out your file and the notes you’d taken on your client.

“Mr Chisaki. It’s good to finally meet you,” you said politely. “I’ve read all about you, so it’s good to finally be able to see you in person.”

Chisaki shifted slightly in his seat but did not make any response. You’d seen him in photographs. As the young head of the Shie Hassaikai, he had always looked to be a proud man, but he had lost that pride along with many other things; some were more obvious losses than others.

“I’m sure you’ve been told why I’m here,” you continued, unphased by his apparent disinterest. “I’m here to assess you. Basically, I believe you are eligible to be moved to a lower-security facility. Somewhere like that would allow you more freedom.”

Chisaki’s head still hung low, but his eyes rolled up to meet yours. “Why?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Why would Chisaki be eligible, after all the heinous things he had done, to the luxuries of any place other than Tartarus?

“Because you are no longer considered dangerous.”

Chisaki’s head finally lifted and his glaring eyes narrowed.

“Because–” you began, but you were swiftly interrupted.

“Because I lost my quirk along with my arms?” he hissed, raising the stumps so that you could get a good view of the damage that had been done to him. “I was, for all intents and purposes, neutered.”

You didn’t flinch at the venom in his tone. “That’s right,” you said simply, again with a polite smile and inclination of your head. “I believe that you would be much better suited in a different sort of correctional facility.” You arranged the papers in front of you and continued. “Depending on how these sessions go, I will be able to recommend your transfer. A transfer would mean you’d be given a custodial sentence and a chance at rehabilitation. How do you feel about that, Mr Chisaki?”

You heard a harsh snort of air expel from Chisaki’s nose, and his expression darkened. He didn’t speak though, and you took that as a signal that he was willing to listen. What you really wanted, however, was communication.

“I want to begin my assessment by discussing the events which brought you here.” You wet your lips with your tongue. The file had been an unpleasant read, even to a professional like you. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, keeping your client’s best interests at heart. You didn’t really mind if he died in Tartarus, but your job needed you to remain a neutral party, and so you would do your best by him. “You’ve experienced a great deal of loss. Both your arms and your quirk were forcibly taken from you in quick succession. That would be a traumatising experience for most people. Have you been receiving therapy?”

Chisaki grimaced, then sighed. “They tried. I wasn’t interested.”

Your brow furrowed slightly at his confession. There was no doubt that Chisaki had gone through acute trauma. When the police had initially found him, he had been in a severe state of shock, his body trembling violently. You wondered where he found the strength to come back from something like that.

“The loss of your quirk must have been quite a shock to you, but it’s that very loss that has opened up this opportunity. If you are transferred to a lower security prison, you may also be entitled to receive prosthetic limbs.”

That announcement seemed to stoke some fire in Chisaki. “Prosthetics?”

You nodded. “They’ll be simple. Nothing that can have the potential to be modified into a weapon, but it will mean you have some means to hold items; cutlery, books, that sort of thing. Prosthetics aren’t permitted while you’re incarcerated here in Tartarus, so there is a silver lining if you’re open to viewing it as one.”

Chisaki’s back straightened as he rolled back his shoulders, finally choosing to face you more directly. “What exactly do you want from me?” he asked.

You smiled. “Just a conversation. Some of it might be painful to talk about, but I want to understand you more so I can make my assessment. I truly believe that Tartarus is not somewhere you belong, but I need you to confirm it for me.”

Chisaki sucked in a long breath before his lips parted again. “Fine.”

You glanced at the file in front of you. There was something that needed to be addressed; more than his quirk, more than his run-in with the League of Villains, more than his cruelty and manipulation. “Let’s begin with your relationship with the leader of the Shie Hassaikai.”

You saw Chisaki’s body grow tense. “Pops …” he whispered, and as the word quietly rolled from his lips, the pain in his eyes deepened.

“Mhm, that’s right. He was a father figure to you, right?” you asked, though the answer was already clear from what you had read about Chisaki.

He nodded. “He took me in, raised me, tried to teach me his values.” His mouth curled down at the corners. “He wanted the yakuza to have honour, not to become like villains. But the yakuza have sunk so low. People used to respect us, but we became nothing but lapdogs for those more powerful than us. Quirks threw everything into chaos.” His gaze hardened as the creases in his brow deepened. “The world stopped progressing. The advancements of science and technology came to a standstill, and even now, everything revolves around quirks. People’s futures, their careers, are practically decided the moment their quirk manifests. Quirks have made our society sick, and that sickness continues to spread.” He stopped and drew in air through his clenched teeth. “Pops wanted to protect the yakuza name, but he wouldn’t make the sacrifices needed to restore us to our true glory.”

You lifted your chin and met his frigid gaze. “But you would, and you did. Starting with your takeover of the Shie Hassaikai.”

The stumps of his arms moved as if he had tried to cross his arms defensively. You almost felt sorry for him as his mouth warped into a thin line of a man frustrated with himself.

“If I’d known …” he began, but his voice caught in his throat.

“The doctors haven’t been able to do anything for him,” you said, a sympathetic tone leaking into your words. “He’s currently in a hospice, but there’s no hope that he’ll recover. He’s being kept comfortable, though, if that is reassuring at all.”

“I planned to restore him once I’d achieved my goals,” Chisaki said. “He wouldn’t let me do what needed to be done. I would have fixed him once the cure began to spread. It would have only been a matter of time. He would have returned to being the head of the Shie Hassaikai in a world where the yakuza were once again revered.” The golden gleam of his eyes shimmered slightly, damp with unshed tears. “I wanted him to be proud. I wanted to show him how grateful I was for everything he’d done for me. But now …” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. “Now my quirk is gone, and I can never bring him back. I wanted to thank him, but I killed him. I killed him, and I have to live with that.” His head drooped once again. “I wanted to give the world a cure. I was so close, but the sickness was too strong for even me.”

“Do you regret what you did?” you asked.

Chisaki stood, making you jump slightly, but you quickly settled. He was behind a thick wall of glass. He approached it, and pressed his forehead against the barrier, his eyes boring into yours, holding your gaze like a hostage.

“That is a pointless question. What good is regret? What’s done is done. Pops is in a hospice, I’m in this cell. No amount of regret will change that. We’re all right where our choices led us.” His eyelids dropped, releasing you from the hold of those glittering irises. “I failed. I’ve come to terms with that fact. This is the consequence of the actions I took. I won’t say I regret what I did, but I am … sorry. To those I hurt.”

You watched him as he returned to his seat. You didn’t feel like there was any deceit in his words. Only sorrow. His losses had changed him. He was a man who had suffered great pain, both physically and emotionally, and that pain had left scars; in some places, the wounds were still wide open and raw.

Kai Chisaki, who had once insisted on being called Overhaul, did not belong in Tartarus. Of that, you were becoming more certain.

“Thank you for your openness, Mr Chisaki.” You rose from your seat, motioning to the guard that you were ready to leave. “I will be returning. We are scheduled to have two more meetings, but I believe that we have made a positive start.”

Chisaki’s jaw stiffened, but he nodded. “I guess, thanks,” he muttered. “Not many people would be so willing to help me. It’s not like I have a lot of friends.”

“I’m just doing my job,” you insisted, but gave him a reassuring smile. “Until our next meeting, Mr Chisaki, take care.”

You were led away from Chisaki’s cell by the same guard who had led you in. The same security protocols were followed, as well as some additional ones, and it took you a full twenty minutes to get out of the prison. The air you breathed once you were outside was the freshest you felt you’d inhaled in your life. Tartarus was never a fun place to visit, but you’d still be back soon enough.

Chisaki would be waiting.

[guide-on-how-to-read-faster]

Guide on How to Read Faster?

Isn't it so much easier to get through school if you could complete your reading assignments three times as fast? Wouldn't it be more fun to jump right into a good piece of fiction and blaze through it in less than a day? Let's explore speed reading in more detail.

The two ways of thinking about speed reading may be familiar to you if you've already looked into the subject. It is said that speed reading is the essence of success and everything you have ever dreamed of. Others say speed reading is a myth and doesn't work. Truth usually lies somewhere in the middle.

When considering speed reading, the first thing you need to ask yourself is: "Why do I want to read faster?" While speed reading novels for pleasure requires a different approach than speed reading textbooks or research articles for understanding hard science, speed reading novels for pleasure requires one approach. When using RSVP tests or Rapid Serial Visual Presentations, individual words or blocks of two or three appear sequentially on the screen.

Reading Process

Before we move on to the techniques, it's important to understand the reading process.

Reading is the action of analyzing a piece of writing to understand its intended meaning. So, reading effectively requires more than just recognizing a series of words. You must also understand the relationship between the words and the unstated implications of the situation.

Compare this to skimming, which is the rapid consumption of text to gain a general idea of what you're reading. The gist of it will become apparent even if you don't comprehend the details. The goal of speed reading is to maintain skim-like reading speeds while maintaining reading-like comprehension.

An educated adult reads approximately 200-400 words per minute. It is claimed that speed readers can read thousands of words in a minute. To do so, they rely on peripheral vision.

The fovea, or center of your visual field, has the highest acuity, about 1° in any direction. The width of your thumb extended at arm's length is approximately this size. The parafovea has moderate acuity between 1 and 5° from the center, and the periphery is greater than 5° from the center. In peripheral vision, it is physically and biologically impossible to recognize and interpret the text.

Try looking at a stationary object, such as where the wall meets the ceiling. Keep your eyes smoothly moving from one side to the other of the line. Unfortunately, it is actually impossible. Multiple small, jerky movements of your eyes are called saccades. During reading, saccades allow the reader to fixate the fovea on a word by moving their eyes quickly.

When speed readers use their fingers to guide their eye movements, I initially thought they employed smooth pursuit. Smooth pursuit occurs when your eyes fixate on a moving object and can follow it smoothly. If you move your finger from side to side in front of you, your eyes will smoothly follow it without jerking. The finger technique speed readers use is less about the pursuit of smoothness and more about maintaining a metronomic pace as they read.

The saccades allow the fovea to focus on the next word. It is estimated that each fixation lasts around 250 milliseconds, but it can vary greatly based on legibility, difficulty, and whether it is proofreading or reading for comprehension or swiping. However, not every word is fixed.

In about half of the sentences, the word "the" is skipped. In certain cases, a word may be skipped even though it has been processed. The rapid serial visual processing (RSVP) technology is useful for displaying information (usually text or images) in which the text appears word-by-word in a fixed focal point. In addition to being a basic reading aid, RSVP is being investigated as a way to boost individual reading rates. Additionally, RSVP is being used for research in visual impairment, dyslexia, perceptual and cognitive psychology. There are many different languages and platforms available for RSVP.

Through these technologies, words are presented to the viewer in the center of the visual field in rapid succession, thereby eliminating the need for eye movements. In light of the aforementioned individual variations, visual processing physiology, and the way we comprehend language, I would argue that RSVP is an inefficient way to consume text. RSVP does not allow for regressions, which is another problem. Regression is a brief look backward in the text to return to an earlier word. The purpose of this is to correct errors' incomprehension. RSVP further reduces comprehension by eliminating the possibility of regressions.

According to proponents of speed reading, subvocalization, or using your inner voice while reading, will slow you down. Numerous studies have examined the effects of eliminating or minimizing subvocalization. Findings consistently indicated decreased comprehension. It makes sense that phonological processing is an important part of reading and comprehension, since all writing systems represent words, and since the primary form of language is vocal rather than visual.

What does all this mean? Perception of visual information occurs rapidly. However, reading is slowed down by linguistic processing. It has been demonstrated that language processing rather than the ability to control eye movements is the determining factor of reading speed in various studies. We are limited in our ability to read by our ability to identify and understand words rather than by our ability to see them. As a result, reading faster actually reduces comprehension, which may or may not matter depending on what you are reading.

Learn how to read faster

After we have clarified the science behind reading and speed reading, we will take a look at how to speed read faster. To read faster, one does not need to read the same way for every reading goal.

As a method of improving one's reading comprehension and speed, it is suggested that one practice more reading. Even though this does help, it's a very slow and gradual process that doesn't produce drastic changes.

To drastically improve speed, comprehension must be reduced. We need to read slower to increase comprehension. There's no way around that; you can only improve slowly.

In each case, we have to balance reading comprehension with reading speed. Is it possible to reduce comprehension minimally, while increasing speed maximally? I have found the following techniques to be the most useful over the years.

1) Determine the Type of Reading

Determine your reading goal and the type of reading you will perform first. It is not necessary to maximize comprehension for every reading task. Do you read nonfiction for pleasure? Do you proofread an essay for a friend? Do you read a textbook for class? Do you read high yield notes and bullet points for one of your classes?

Having a clear goal in mind will help you determine the minimum level of comprehension required and, therefore, the maximum speed that can be achieved.

2) Remain Flexible

Secondly, make sure your speed is flexible. During the reading process, you will come across sections of text that are easy for you. It's a simple language, you understand the concepts, and you can easily get through it. You don't have to focus on every word to understand it.

In other sections, you will be introduced to new words or concepts that require your attention. Often, this will happen, so you must be flexible with your reading speed to optimize your speed/comprehension balance. If you're not sure about the significance of a paragraph, focus on its first and last sentences.

3) Use a Pacer

Use a pacer, such as your finger or a pen. You can follow along with your eyes by running your pacer below each line from end to end. You will instantly increase your reading speed with minimal comprehension loss.

It is important to find the sweet spot between pushing the boundaries of your comfort zone and only slightly reducing comprehension. My opinion is that if you reduce comprehension by 10% but gain 50% in speed, that's not a bad tradeoff. The pacer will need to move faster in places and slower in others, as described above.

Different Types of Reading

1) Textbooks

There is often a lot of unnecessary text in textbooks. There's no need to worry if you accidentally skip a paragraph or a whole section. Pay attention to bolded words or sections that contain key information, and speed up while reading text that adds context to what you've already learned.

Identifying what is important in each section by looking at section headings and bolded terms will make it easier for you to read the section. It may take a few minutes at first, but overall, if you execute it properly, you should save time.

When I'm finished reading a section or page, I summarize what I've learned. Alternatively, I can write a few bullet points or speak out loud to myself. This greatly improves retention and comprehension.

2) Books for Pleasure

If you read for pleasure, you can do whatever you want. If you want to enjoy the nuances of language, then you should slow down. In contrast, if you only wish to grasp the gist, it won't be a problem if your comprehension drops considerably.

It very much depends on the book and what you hope to gain from it. Depending on the book, I read every word or skip sections. The majority of books fall somewhere in the middle.

3) Research

In reading research articles, which you will read a lot during your pre-med, medical school, and residency years, follow a systematic approach. The best way to gain a deeper understanding of the abstract is to read it slowly and carefully. Focus on those key points when you read the full article.

Spend a few minutes reading the abstract, a few introductory paragraphs, the methods and results in sections quickly, and then spend more time on the conclusion.

A Guide to Speed Reading

Problem – The amount of reading material available these days is so overwhelming that often it's impossible to keep up. In this way, we scroll headlines and teasers instead of reading content that will actually educate us. Our lives are often dominated by the pressure to finish our daily tasks on time or keep up with the latest developments in our areas of interest, regardless of whether we are at work or studying.

Solution – Today, speed reading is a highly valuable and essential skill. People who master speed reading techniques can read as much as three times faster than the average reader, who usually reads between 200 and 250 words per minute.

Benefits – When speed reading, the human brain is challenged to perform faster and better. With speed reading, your brain will be trained to absorb information much faster than it is used to. As a result, your memory and brain function will be improved. Additionally, you may benefit from increased general and specialized knowledge, improved problem-solving skills, or increased self-confidence.

A Final Thought

We have compiled this article to teach you how to read faster. This article will describe how speed reading techniques work and provide you with tips, information, and resources to help you read and learn more quickly.

[sahbibabe]

An Experiment Returned

An Experiment Returned

Soulmate AU

Sephiroth/Fem! Reader

You get your exams done. It does not end well.

YOU SAT ON THE COLD steel table with enough adrenaline in your veins to kill a horse. No amount of pep talk could stop your fight or fight response the moment you had entered the laboratory─no matter that the nurse on standby had told you it was an entirely separate wing from Hojo's as she looked down at your file. A file that was suspiciously thicker than the one Reno had given you with all of your normal medical history in it, experimentation redacted.

      They had taken your purse, with it your materia, your clothes, your socks, your shoes, your undergarments, and even your earrings, claiming any of it could be used as a weapon. You were keen to find out if ankle socks could be used as weapons, but the nurse had shoved a paper gown at you and escorted you to a room with your chart hooked on it.

       In the middle of the room was the exam table you sat on, but it was outfitted with various different equipment that allowed it to be both a gynecology chair and a restraint system. You didn't like that at all, toying with the sleeves of your gown, and trying your best not to shake from the cold. It was well below sixty degrees and without your warm clothes, you would turn into an icicle before your exam was even over.

      When you first sat down, you tried to avoid looking at the plastic wrapped equipment laid out on the table. Not even the sheer blue dye in that plastic could stop you from spotting a scalpel and a drill, but that wasn't even the worst part. You saw pliers, small metal hammers, picks for what looked to be made for teeth, and enough gauze to make a giant stuffed chocobo.

      It didn't help that the entire room smelled like blood. The antiseptic dulled the odor only faintly, but you could still make it out, an iron tinged undertone beneath bleach and cleanser. There were little stains on the ceiling that were dark and looked like they hadn't been scrubbed in a long while.

      A computer sat in a corner, and beside it, a steaming hot cup of coffee that you assumed belonged to the doctor. It made your stomach cramp with hunger, but hospital coffee was never good and you had a feeling you would be throwing your guts up if you even tried a sip.

     Before you could find anything else to analyze further and scare yourself even more, the door creaked open on steel hinges. It was a loud, screeching sound that made you want to curl in on yourself instinctively, because it sounded just like the door to your cell in Hojo's facility.

     "Good evening, Miss [Surname]." You swallowed a bit of bile at the sound of the feminine voice. You had, for a split second, been expecting Hojo─if Reno hadn't been thoughtful enough of you to pull some strings, you would be staring at him right now. Instead, you found a short, quaint woman greeting you, with a cute face and giant glasses. "How are you? You're very pale."

       "I don't have a good experience with… doctors," you replied sourly, stomach churning wildly. "Can we get this over with? Fast?"

      "Of course. Reno told me about your issues." Issues? Not PTSD? Issues? Your eyebrows furrowed. "You were very nervous while my assistant took your vitals. One hundred and forty over one hundred?"

       "I'm still nervous."

       "I can see that." She flipped over to a paper on the second page and hummed. "You have a hemoglobin test up first. It's just a finger prick, nothing serious. We'll take a look at that and go from there."

        You knew more serious things were coming to you. You eyed the scalpel the entire time she pricked your finger with a needle and inserted a strip into the machine.

       "Alright. Can you stand up for me? I need to check your spine and movement while we wait for that to read."

       You did what she asked: bending over with your gown untied, walked in a straight line, bent your knees and elbows, did a few squats to test your hips, and rotated your arm sockets to make sure nothing caught up in them. She nodded every time she was pleased and checked off some list she had on her clipboard, writing notes in the margins.

       "How old are you, Miss [Surname]?"

       "Twenty-three." You got back up on the table. "Isn't it all in my file?"

       "Yes, but I confirm with the patient to make sure the office didn't make any mistakes." Before she could ask anymore questions, the machine beeped loudly, signaling the test was done. She peered over at the numbers. You watched her eyes go wide as saucers. "Your hemoglobin count is four point six. You shouldn't even be walking right now. Do you feel dizzy? Tired? Faint? Achy?"

        "No." You jerked backwards when she approached you hastily, reaching for your eyes to check them. "Wait a minute!"

        "Your chart says you're blind, but you're clearly not," she hummed, reaching again and peeling back your eyelid, shining a flashlight in your eye. "Hmm. Your pupils are very responsive… Blink for me." You did. "Interesting. I wonder how Hojo didn't take note of this."

      Anger welled up inside you. Hearing his name set you off. You shoved her back with a firm foot in her stomach, kicking with enough force to make her slam into the counter. "Back. Off!"

       "Heightened anger, too," she went on, as if you hadn't spoken, her voice winded. She scribbled something into her file again. "Since you can see, I assume you must have a SOLDIER for a soulmate?"

       You scowled. "Yes. I guess. That's what everyone says, anyways; I wasn't able to see when I met them."

       "I see." She clicked her pen closed and held up her stethoscope. "Let me listen to your heart. Please."

       She did, and took more blood samples, not even hesitant in taking any of it despite your hemoglobin levels. She pressed onto your sternum, your stomach, then your abdomen, her eyebrows furrowing when she felt around your uterus. You, however, went so numb with pain when she reached your abdomen that you couldn't even speak.

       "Interesting… Your uterus feels perhaps larger than it should be. I'll need to get samples from you for testing; you may have cancer or an infection." She felt even lower, pressing right on your pelvic bone. "And this feels a bit wide. You haven't bore children before, have you?"

      You recovered enough of your voice to speak, the pain making it crack. "No."

      "Hmm." She reached for her clipboard and wrote something down. "This calls for more testing. Let's get your feet in the stirrups, please. I'm curious to see what's going on inside. I'll be swabbing for cells and inserting a small camera to make sure you aren't developing inflammation in your ovaries."

       You sat through the swabs, somewhat uncomfortable, feeling bile climb up your throat at the pressure. Then, she removed them, popped them into a vial, and rolled over her laptop and plugged in a sterile camera line.

      She positioned it so you were allowed to see as well, even though you didn't want to, and carefully inserted the camera. "Tell me if you feel any pain."

      The first couple of inches were normal and pink. You could make out a little bit where she was at, but you didn't know enough to know what was okay or unusual, until she reached somewhere in the middle where it began turning colors. It went from pink to such a deep purple color that it was almost black; if it weren't for the light attached, you wouldn't have been able to tell it at all. You felt sick to your stomach and pilfered for the garbage can beside the table, throwing up in it the moment you got your mouth over it.

       She still kept going, but her face was pale. "It seems Hojo got what he wanted, after all these years."

        That made you even sicker. She pulled out the camera while you continued to throw up, covering you up and lowering the stirrups. She picked up her board, wrote something down, and left the room as if she had never been there in the first place.

      You raised your head from the garbage can with a tiny sob, looking up at the frozen picture on the screen. She had went even deeper, to your ovaries themselves, and the color had changed once again, dark purple streamlined with bright green. Mako.

      "Oh, gods," you choked, retching back into the garbage. You heaved, but had nothing left to give. "No…"

       The door opened once again. You didn't look up, thinking the doctor had come back to check on you, stomach clenching painfully.

       "When I heard my failed experiment was here, I just had to come see for myself." Your heart dropped dead into your stomach. You looked up, slowly, spit dripping from your mouth. The door shut and locked. "Look at you. All grown up and mature. Perhaps that's what she was waiting on: for you to mature. An oversight, of course, but I can make amends."

       Your mind went terrifyingly blank at the black goggles staring at you. The strong scent of undiluted bleach. The odor of death and infection.

       Hojo.

      "Imagine my surprise when I saw your chart logged into the database!" He cackled, approaching you with slow, measured steps. "It was almost too good to be true. And here you are, back where you started, a gift to me from Rufus Shinra. How lucky am I?"

        "I-I'm not your fucking gift," you stuttered, shuffling backwards the closer he got. Your fingers hit the edges of the table. Clenched around a dirty scalpel. "Leave me alone. I'm a failure. You don't want anything to do with me."

       "Oh, but your file says otherwise." His tone was dark and sinister as he walked the edge of the table. "I succeeded, just not in the area I had wanted at the time. I had originally wanted to have your eyes for her to see through; I got a perfect incubator instead. Isn't it wonderful? You can bear her children now!"

       "No," you gasped, mouth trembling. Your fist tighened against the scalpel, fingers breaking out in a cold sweat. "No, I won't. Fuck you. Fuck Jenova!"

       You rammed the scalpel forward. It sunk home in his shoulder, scraped against bone; you pushed it deeper, drawing on your fear and adrenaline. When he hit the floor screaming, writhing in pain, you leapt off of the table and snatched the unredacted files off of the counter.

      The pain that shot up your stomach was nearly unbearable, as if simply being aware of it incited pain. You staggered to the door and unlocked it, moving clumsily down the hall with a hand pressed to the wall. If you had any food in your body, you would have vomited again when you reached the lobby. Instead, sitting in one of the chairs and getting his blood pressure read, was a godsend: Rude.

      "Rude," you wheezed, collapsing to your knees when they wouldn't support your weight. The shock continued to get to you, your vision blacking out─or was that the routine? You didn't know. "Rude…"

      "[Name]?" He ripped the bloodpressure cuff off and gently moved the nurse to the side. He caught you around the shoulders just before you faceplanted into the floor, eyes wide behind his glasses as you smothered your panicked sobs into his sleeve. "What's going on here?"

       "Hojo," you breathed.

      Then your vision went black. After that, so did your conciousness.

[anikkis-fantasirealities]

“Finding the Captivating Dialogue for You”

④ How-to-do Feature ┊ ᴬˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᵉᶜᵈᵒᵗᵉ ˢᵒ ᵃʳᶦᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˡˡᵘʳᶦⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ··· ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᶦᶜ ��ᵃᵖᵗᵘʳᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒʳᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒˡᵒʳᵉᵈ ᶜᵒʳⁿᵉᵃˢ·

꒰⁺˚₊·₍₍loading...₎₎ ✎...۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪ -ˏˋ 🃏 ˊˎ-

༘✶ ㊉ ㈦〘 ⅯⅯ 〙⋆｡˚𓆟 ༉ ║ Posted : ０６/１５/２１° ｡༄ ‧₊˚ ๑ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ •ଓ.° ｡❍ ㈩ ㊇

- - ——— ꒰ An article by Nicole “Nikki” Elaine S. Chua ꒱

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ࿐ྂ—͙❬₊° ᶦ ᵃᵐ ᵃ ᵇˡᵒᵍᵍᵉʳ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ·“= ‹⸙͎

Cure your boredom by finding something new! Enter the world of art and stories combined! Find the story to obsess over, only here on WEBTOON! Hold on, let me just shake out all the interpretative literary devices I had from my previous articles... There, much better! Welcome back to your favorite bunny—Nikki’s Tumblr blog! It feels a bit different here compared to when I am on Amino, to be honest. Yes, when I formally write without too many literary devices, my blogs smoothen like this, like it was polished with sandpaper or something. Anyway, I loosen up in order to display my love for something I’d like to offer to this world—one of those precious gems that have not been excavated in the realm of fandoms. Today, in this article, let’s enter the world of Webtoons and figure out 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙒𝙀𝘽𝙏𝙊𝙊𝙉 (𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙒𝙚𝙗𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙨) 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧!

Oh, hold on your horses! You’re asking what do I mean by Line Webtoons? My apologies for not explaining that before I bring you along this own carpet ride. To begin with this sudden class session, webtoons are webcomics that have a vertical reading format. In Korea, “manhwa” is often something you’d hear when the locals there refer to comics. These webtoons originated from South Korea, and now, they are rebranded by different companies with their hit titles. One of those brands is Naver Webtoon, and internationally, it is known as Line Webtoons. In 2019, it has now become WEBTOON, for short! Korean webtoons that are from Naver Webtoon have been officially translated into English, Chinese, Japanese, Indonesian, Thai, Spanish, French, and German languages in the present. At the same time, all these countries of the world wide web get to also be webtoon creators, too!

Comics are a mix of art and writing in multiple panels. Though unlike those readable from right to left, or the complete opposite of that, webtoons take advantage of vertical scrolling to reveal shocking key plot points and add more aesthetic in the blooming & stunning art they provide to the audience. They don’t upload once a month or year—in WEBTOON, there’s always something to read daily! Most WEBTOON series upload once a week, depending on its creator. As a reader, you’ll surely enjoy the vast options of webtoons to choose from reading at your own pace. There are many interesting genres, art styles, character designs, pairings, story lines, and themes to look forward to. The best part is, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨, 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚! There’s a perfect story to dwell into for all kinds of people, so if you’re curious in knowing how to begin reading, let’s go ahead and jump into the app!

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𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽 ⓵: 𝗗𝗼𝘄𝗻𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗘𝗕𝗧𝗢𝗢𝗡 𝗮𝗽𝗽 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗘𝗕𝗧𝗢𝗢𝗡 𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗲.

The first step to get started with WEBTOON is approaching its services, first! You If you haven’t encountered WEBTOON yet, you could either take a little peak behind its digital pages online. I recommend downloading the app to enjoy the WEBTOON experience to the maximum level. If your first language is not English, perhaps a more comfortable version of the app made for your location fortunately exists! Search for WEBTOON on the playstore, and you will spot the application in a flash. It is only 21 MB or megabytes big, so it is not painful to the phone storage.

However, if you want to save space, you can always take the other route and access the WEBTOON site here. You can search for WEBTOON on your device’s browser, and the link you see immediately will lead you to the destination you desire to land onto. The site is mostly used by personal computer users and those who cannot download the app. It functions the same way as the app, but not all the features, events, and other cool activities can be done here. So, I still suggest to head over to your device’s playstore to get the application!

𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽 ⓶: 𝗦𝗶𝗴𝗻-𝘂𝗽 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗘𝗕𝗧𝗢𝗢𝗡 𝗮𝗽𝗽.

Any app would instruct the user to create an account to use its services. For WEBTOON though, this is very worth it, for it gives you a chance to use your account to comment on WEBTOON episodes you adore, or subscribe to the series you want to follow and support. You can create an account using your email address and the password to access it personally. Just the same as any other process in signing-up for an account, you will type your own username. You could also your very own Facebook, Twitter, Google, or LINE account to enter, and your name on the site you’ve chosen to log-on with will become your name on WEBTOON.

It is editable, so don’t worry if your username so happened to be humiliating, and you absolutely must change it! Though, if you don’t want to create an account just yet, users can view webtoons with a press of a finger without signing up for anything, if you’d press the return key on your phone or if you’re browsing on the site. Once you submit your approval that you’ve read and understood the Terms of Use & Privacy Policy of WEBTOON, you can finally set foot on the real fun of webtoons!

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𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽 ⓷: 𝗧𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 “𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀” 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗲.

Okay, do not get confused! We’ll get to the rest of the areas of the app in a little bit! There’s a lot of things to do, now that we’ve finally arrived on WEBTOON platform itself. Though before being hyped at the things you are seeing right now, I’d like you to scroll down to the bottom of this “For You” section, and dig up the “Find your series” questionnaire to answer it. This is so that you can have an idea of what to expect here on WEBTOON, as well as what to read first. This is a questionnaire that will also introduce you to stories that you’d enjoy, without getting totally overwhelmed with content to stretch out into. No pressure in choosing, it will not affect how your account is set-up! Don’t worry about the results either. Answer as natural and honest as you can! This step is only applicable to those who are on the WEBTOON application. It is also optional to the reader, specifically if they are already used to reading webcomics and know what to expect.

Once you enter, it’d ask what are the genres you like. There is horror, comedy, thriller, fantasy, drama, romance, superhero, slice of life, action, and sci-fi. To clarify, slice of life does not literally mean a splitted life! It is a genre for stories that showcase the everyday life of a person, that are either relatable or engaging to read about. Choose as many genres as you want—it’s totally fine to check everything, or to choose one specific genre. Then, you can choose which art styles you prefer from the choices you see in front of your screen. Again, don’t worry about picking art styles—this is not a critical survey! Go ahead and pick many art styles you find pleasing to the eye. Then, you’ll get a list of webtoons recommended to you by the WEBTOON management! Easy, right?

You can take note of these titles given to you, or you can press on the webtoons you find interest in, and you will be taken to the webtoon’s contents in a jifty. That’s where you can read the description of the title’s plot, and you can instantly start reading if it strummed your heartstrings. You can continue discovering more stories to read from here, since the freedom is yours. Even so, there are still parts of the application to discuss that may give you an extra hand later on. Stick around this article for more of that, especially when you need an enthusiatic tour guide like me!

𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽 ⓸: 𝗖𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 “𝗢𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘀” 𝘁𝗮𝗯.

If you’re still following me, you may exit the questionnaire that you entered into a while ago. Now, if you scroll up, we’re back seeing graphics moving sideways at the front page. Oh, did you something catch your eye there? These graphics that WEBTOON fans usually call as “banners” (or, for me, personally—anyway,) are another way to gain interest in choosing stories to read. Long story short, when I became a WEBTOON reader, my all-time favorite webcomic from WEBTOON was first shown to me on a banner. (A very epic one, too!) Most of the webtoons shown here are in the “Originals” tab! From “For You,” press the Originals tab next. These are the tenths of webtoons that you can also read here on WEBTOON. The image is just one section of that. If you can observe, there are the seven days of the week stated at the top of these webtoons, under the word, “Daily.” You might be asking why is this section called, “Originals.” All these webtoons found under this tab are in partnership with the WEBTOON management, and these stories release new episodes weekly!

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That simply means that the creators of these webtoons are working together with WEBTOON to share their stories with us, and what’s the best thing? They get to tell their stories, while fulfilling their dream full-time job as a paid webcomic creator! Their work is now known as “WEBTOON ORIGINALs,” though before, they used to be “Featured Webtoons.” Everyday, various webtoons of different genres update with new parts to continue the story from where they left off previously, so there’s definitely something to look forward to from Mondays to Sundays. There are also more choices here than those in the questionnaire, so if you weren’t contented with what you got from answering questions, you can also come here to pick out stories. There are also webtoons under “Completed,” and we’ll get to those in a bit. If you’d ask me what I usually do on Originals, I read everything in general, so I never run out of things to read, but I’m more fond of fantasy genres. You can also choose webtoons from all days of the week, so you can keep reading something everyday before going to school or work, or perhaps, when you’re about to sleep.

𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽 ⓹: 𝗘𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 “𝗖𝗮𝗻𝘃𝗮𝘀” 𝘁𝗮𝗯.

Now, there must be another question in your head. “How are these webcomic creators chosen to be featured, or have their work included under WEBTOON ORIGINALs?” There are a couple of ways, though, we’ll focus on this canvas of ideas for this article. Usually, creators are discovered on the fan submissions area of the application. Yes, you heard me right! If you are someone who loves drawing comics as well, then you can give this opportunity a shot and meet other aspiring creators here on “Canvas!” So, let’s move from the “Originals” tab and head straight into the “Canvas” section. The webtoons here are under the word, “Spotlight.” It’s simply because these webtoons are uploaded by other webcomic creators who are not affiliated by WEBTOON, yet. So, you could say that this is the wider scope of webtoons to look through. The best thing about “Canvas” which used to be “Discover,” is the fact that we can support these writers and/or artists by reading their stories.

WEBTOON is a platform perfect for people to test the waves of being a webcomic creator. At the same time, they are given the chance to gain a community of a readers that you could also be a part of! However, since these webtoons labeled as “CANVAS WEBTOONs,” are not fully paid by WEBTOON, there is no guarantee that they’ll upload episodes every week. They are free to upload on their own running schedule, but in return, they are also free to create any story they like, as long as it follows the WEBTOON guidelines. Just a brief heads-up, you must have a computer or laptop, in order to upload your own webcomic on WEBTOON. For us readers, it’s a big chance for us to find stories we’ll fall in love with—the one that will make us invested and devoted to how the story continues. If you give the CANVAS WEBTOON more support, who knows? You might be a part of their life accomplishment journey to doing what they love for a living. Very heartwarming, I see.

𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽 ⓺: 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀.

We’ve already seen all the webtoons that the app has to offer to us. Despite that, there’s a chance that you still don’t know what stories pique the elements you like in a plot. Now that you know that there are more webtoons to search for on the WEBTOON app, you might need a guide or factor to know what’s the best story to try out. This is why the rankings and genre sections exist on the app! You can view the rankings of WEBTOON ORIGINALs and CANVAS WEBTOONs in their respective tabs. For ORIGINALs, you can click on the badge-like icon to the top right, while in CANVAS, you can see the rankings immediately. If you want to see the complete rankings list for CANVAS WEBTOONs, pressing the arrow at the right side of the rankings preview will do the trick! This step is for users who cannot decide based on what gem of a webtoon preview has caught their attention. If you'd like to find out what webtoons are popular overall, or in their corresponding genres, be sure to use this feature to weigh the odds. We are people who are influenced by whatever is loved by many, after all.

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If ten genres weren't enough choices during the questionnaire, well, thankfully there is more to play with! In the genre sections of both types of webtoons on WEBTOON, which you can see alongside the rankings, you can also view webtoons listed under the supernatural, mystery, sports, historical, heartwarming, and informative genres! So, in total, there are 16 genres to step into, and that's a plenty! In that said area, you can tell which genres have the best stories based on how many people read each webtoon. You can also sort these webtoons by interests, likes, or date. Just press the "Genres" button next to the "Daily" or "Spotlight" text on either tabs. The "sorting the webtoons by interests" option would depend on what your account has read, so far. These features are really handy to introduce to you new webtoons to take your eyes on or pay attention to.

𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽 ⓻: 𝗨𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 “𝗠𝘆” 𝘁𝗮𝗯.

I suppose you've already chosen a webtoon to read, or maybe you're already into collecting webtoon titles to remember reading. Regardless, let's make things a little easier. You'd need your account, first! If you haven't created one yet, head to the log-in page and go back to Step No. 2. Catch up here when you're done, alright? If you’re already here, let me take you a stroll around this “My” tab. This section has list of features that are for the account’s convenience and personalization. It tells you what webtoons episodes have you recently read, downloaded, commented, and unlocked. It also states what webtoons have you subscribed to. Oh, yes, you can do all these things for your favorite stories on WEBTOON! To try that out, go to your chosen webtoon to read. As a reader, you are given the chance to rate the webtoon from 1 to 10—whether it is an ORIGINAL or CANVAS-type. That also makes heads turn away or stare closer at the stories, to see if they are worthy of their time.

Just like how subscriptions work on Youtube or any other platform, subscribing to a webtoon with your account means that you’ll get notifications whenever it uploads. It’s also easier to access subscribed webtoons through the “My” tab, instead of continously searching for your favorite stories all over the application or site as if you’re in a never-ending maze. You can track down the episodes you’ve downloaded for offline use as well, which comes in great situations where wifi is not available. Be aware that downloaded episodes will remain on your account for 30 days only, however. After 30 days, you may download the episodes again. Commenting on episodes can give you interaction with other readers’ ideas—those reactions, arguments, discussions, and, well! You could even talk about romantic pairing wars and all that’s fizzling in the premise of the story. With this section of the app, your account will be able to be fit and active, while it gives access to more parts of WEBTOON—including the possession of fast pass coins to unlock episodes for early reading! Wait a minute. Why must we, and how do we do that?

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𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽 ⓼: 𝗧𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝘃𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁.

Fast pass on WEBTOON allows you to read episodes before they are publicly released. In other words, you can gain early access to your most awaited ORIGINAL WEBTOONs’ episodes, especially when they get on that gripping cliffhanger that makes you want to go crazy with what happens next! The question is, how can we use fast pass? We can do that with coins called, “fast pass coins.” This in-app currency will permit you to avail one fast pass episode every five coins. In order to get coins, however, there is real money transactions involved. Though, do not fret, because you do not need to spend a dime or a single peso over buying fast pass episodes! WEBTOON offers users to gain five or more fast pass coins through events in the app.

These vary from having to log-in in 7 days, or read similarly themed webtoons that are featured per event. It’s free to do, though, they do not come by all the time—events do not run forever, after all. So, take on the challenge when it arrives, and get yourself some fast pass episodes to enjoy! One benefit in taking part in fast pass coins events is reading new stories that you’ve never tried peaking into before, because who knows when will it become your top webtoon choice in the future? Take it for me—one webtoon became my favorite when the first fast pass coins event entitled, “Climb the Tower challenge,” occured. I participated and had climbed 100 episodes, and now here I am chilling with floors and betrayal!

If you haven’t asked, all fast pass coins given to each webtoon will have a part of its value given to the creators of the said stories. In other words, it’s like directly supporting the artists, writers, and creators of the stories you love! This step can only be done to ORIGINAL WEBTOONs. CANVAS WEBTOONs do not have fast pass, though its creators can provide Patreon accounts where fans can donate or give thanks for their eloquent and awesome stories to tell.

𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽 ⓽: 𝗗𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗲𝗯𝘁𝗼𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲.

Remember when I mentioned “completed” webtoons prior to this step? It’s interesting that there also webtoons that have ended, so there is a section for WEBTOON ORIGINALs that have ended in the “Originals” tab. Here, you can still binge-read completed webtoons for as many times you want to, and you can also gain a collection of read finished webtoons on your proud wall. The satisfaction is there when you finish a story—but, wait a minute. We are familiar with fast pass, now, what’s up with this daily pass? For some completed webtoons, they are readable with the daily pass feature. This makes a webtoon’s episodes first episode public for reading, but the twist is, to read the next episodes, you must come back everyday to continue. Episodes in the middle until the end of the story are locked, and can only be carried on if you’ve lended a daily pass entry for it to be opened for a limited time. Then, you can access the next episodes in the following days. Tedious as it may be, you could also pay for fast pass coins to read these specific completed webtoons quicker.

However, if your route is free reading, it is also a fulfilling experience to follow a story as if it was still uploading everyday, instead of reading it in one sitting. This is the patience, yet satisfaction, that can be acquired from daily pass. That is also the goal of WEBTOON for implementing such a feature to their application. You don’t have to pay for anything if you don’t want to speed up your time in reading. This step is definitely for you, if you’re already reading ongoing webtoons, but want to find more stories in the completed section. Trust me, the stories we got here with the daily pass feature were real hits back in the day—somehow, the dust on their covers will be swept away when you touch it. It’s worth it, so why not give it a shot? I heard that one completed webtoon here was recently adaptated into an anime, another has been published physically, while the other was given a live-action K-drama on Netflix! Let’s see if you can figure out which stories these are!

𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽 ⓾: 𝗞𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗲𝗯𝘁𝗼𝗼𝗻𝘀!

So, once you’ve found your beloved webtoons, fully invested into them with your account, made use of fast pass, and indulge into daily pass, the only thing left to do to begin on WEBTOON is to stick to it! Keep being a WEBTOON reader, and enjoy as many webtoons as you’d like. As you keep being on the application or site, you will encounter more features of WEBTOON, and maybe, as you stick around, more surprises & stories will be coming your way. There’s the fan translation area to explore, where you can translate the webtoons you’d love to support and be a contributor to its spread to other languages. There are thousands of CANVAS WEBTOONs being promoted in the front page for explorers to uncover reading. Spotlights at the bottom of the front page compile webtoons together, and you’d get to see more webtoons that may be under the spotlighted theme you adore!

You will be a part of this passionate WEBTOON community, and I’d like to thank you if you keep engaging into this craft as a reader. WEBTOON is a group of people who loves comics, and webcomics alike. It’s a place where creators and readers get to connect, at the same time, reach for their dreams. This is where their imaginations sprint wild—the happiness, sadness, anger, fear, worry, doubt, cheer, and excitement at every panel scrolling down your devices. You will be joining along with its growth, as well as all webcomic creators trying out on the platform, that WEBTOON sincerely cares for, wherever or whoever they are. You can witness how its stories will not only become panels and dialogue, but also animation, live-action, physical books, and other media types all around the world.

Do continue finding the captivating dialogue for you in WEBTOON, because for sure, it will become the message you will hold onto for life. Dramatic Nikki aside, thank you very much for reading this article! I had a blast—almost like I was going to be blasted on a rocket ship to Mars, while I was writing this feature. I hope my steps were able to help you get started on WEBTOON, and I’d like to bid you all the best on your personal voyage here. I believe each story of how we became attached to something is very significant, so take this moment to make it a memorable event in your life. Once more, thank you for reading! Come back again in another blog in the unknown future, where my fantasies become realities! A Nikki reminder: don’t just be ordinary when everyone is doing wrong—be unORDINARY, right & just, and continue to climb without holding back!

· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚ . . 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . * · . · · + . ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ· ** ˚ . . + 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ. . + 　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧ ⋆ · * . · . · · .. . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ· + ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ · ** ˚ . . + ㅤㅤ　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ⋆ · * . · ㅤㅤ . · · .. . . · + .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ. · + . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⋆ * . * . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ . · ·

ㅤㅤ﹙dedication. ﹚ ୨˚୧ ˚ ༘♡.↳ ₊˚‧

This blog is dedicated to you who is like me, and him who is like her. Both webtoon characters that I salute the most—and that beautiful set of panels that has become my lifestory. May you be in work for ten years or five years, I will cherish you, with this shining sword—diamond, ADAMAS.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 🗼 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ┊彡 Credits

➥ Cover Edit

➫ WEBTOON app

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➥ First Blog Dividers

➫ Soara Academy

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➥ The Rest of the Blog Dividers

➫ WEBTOON app

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➥ Source of Information

➫ Webtoon Wikipedia page

➫ WEBTOON (Line Webtoon) Wikipedia page

➫ My own knowledge as a WEBTOON reader

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...Are you asking me if I wanted to be a WEBTOON ambassador...? Yes, but I have no social media influence. I'm just a small bunny in a burrow who loves talking and helping people get to know more about WEBTOON. Also, thank you for liking this, cheezbot. You're such a cute Tumblr bot, indeed.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ⭆ Back to Homepage ⭅

⇦ Previous Blogㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

[xmagicxshopx]

Love Bytes - Prologue

Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Romance, Mild Angst, Slice of Life Rating: PG-13 (M for future smut) Warnings: none for the prologue Pairing: Jungkook x reader, Taehyung x oc (Ebony) Notes: vampire!bts. Not idol!bts. Other groups might appear. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: to get an understanding of the boys, you might want to click on the link below that says meet the clan~

Tagging: @grxnadxs​

Summary: They say if it’s too good to be true, it usually isn’t. You and your roommate Ebony are struggling. But that may soon be over with the help of seven men that call themselves Bangtan. But there’s always a catch, right? Being two maids to seven men can’t be all that bad, though.

MASTERLIST || MEET THE CLAN

In an abandoned location somewhere in South Korea, seven young men who also just happened to be vampires, found themselves staring on with pride as they took in the sight of their new home.

“Not too shabby if I do say so myself.”

“You? What did you do besides make a better paperweight?”

“Hey----It’s called delegating. It’s an important job, thank you very much.”

Namjoon found himself subconsciously scratching at his head as he side glanced his older brother Jin. The two were watching the pair of fellow vampires as they bickered back and forth. Yoongi, who had been called the paperweight, was insisting that he contributed to the reconstruction of the abandoned mansion while Taehyung felt otherwise. Of course it was all in good fun. Everyone truly had put in their fair share of effort into bringing the old structure back to it’s former glory.

It was perfect for them, really.

It fit their old fashioned taste and yet they were able to revamp where it was needed. Jin insisted that the kitchen be completely upgraded with stainless steel modern appliances but Jungkook wanted to keep some of the character it held. The common room was modernized with a huge flat screen smart TV to make it look more like an every day living room. Not to mention there was at least three different gaming consoles for family nights.

After assessing all the original rooms in the place, they were able to knock out some walls here and reconstruct walls there and once it was all said and done, each vampire had his own bedroom with an en suite bathroom. Jungkook, being the resident laundry fairy, got dibs on deciding where the laundry room would be. The others gave him whatever he wanted because one, they appreciated him doing the laundry. And two, he was their baby boy who got everything he wanted.

Since some of the boys enjoyed swimming laps as a form of exercise, it was decided that they would have not only an indoor pool, but an outdoor pool as well for in the summertime. Because believe it or not, the Bangtan Clan was a different breed of vampires. But we’ll get to that later.

Namjoon, with his love for all things nature, took it upon himself to rid the estate of all the overgrown weeds and other trash that had floated cross country into their territory. In its place, he had planted various flowers and shrubs along with various fruit trees. Again, not your typical run-of-the-mill vampires. Ever heard of a fruit bat???

“Welp. Now that all of that is done, who’s gonna be the designated house maid that keeps this place spic ‘n span?”

With a bright, boxy smile and hands on his hips, Taehyung turned to the rest of his clan and gave them an expectant look. They all gave him about the same blank look in return as some of them even blinked slowly in thought. Clearing his throat, Jin took a step forward with a hand over his chest as he said casually,

“I’m the cook so don’t look at me.”

“And I’m already doing laundry for everyone so count me out.”

“And I’m allergic to cleaning supplies.”

Everyone gave Yoongi a deadpanned look as he just shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets before proceeding to take a walk inside their new home. It would seem the Bangtan clan was at a standstill. Sure, they had put in tons of money and time and hard work into restoring the mansion, but did the world really expect 7 bachelors to maintain the place and keep it clean and tidy??? Naaaah.

“We could always just hire some people to help around the house and keep it clean. It’s not like we don’t have the money. The Bullet phones are a huge hit with our latest release of updates.”

Jhope was right, they weren’t exactly low on cash flow. You see, Bangtan has been around for a long long time. Dating back from centuries when gentleman with manners were the real men of the world. But over time, the world changed and Bangtan had to try and keep up with those changes. However, they always stayed true to themselves. Boys will be boys but they could and would remain as gentlemen with manners and be humble.

With the world changing and some of the most popular material items being these things called cell phones, the boys knew they had to do something or else they were going to fall behind and fall victim to their own old fashioned ways. So after several years of schooling in computer science and business management, the seven young men were able to join together and create what the modern world now knows as the Bullet phone. A cell phone ahead of it’s time. Hence why they aren’t hurt for money.

“Good point. Perhaps it’s something we should look into.”

And so that’s how the group of men agreed that for now, they’d do their best to try and keep the place as tidy and clean as they could till they could find some hired help willing to put up with seven young men.

As the others began to trickle back inside to get settled into their new home, Taehyung walked up beside the youngest of the clan and gently put him in a headlock. Which of course he knew was stupid because despite being the youngest, Jungkook was also the strongest.

“Wanna go grab some pizza for the guys so that Jin hyung doesn’t have to cook on our first night settled in?”

Easily overpowering his older brother, Jungkook swiftly managed to put Taehyung in a headlock as if he had done so a million times before while he replied with a cocky smirk,

“Yeah sure. Considering as how we have no food in the first place and Namjoonie hyung has only just now planted the fruit trees.”

After the two were done rough housing around with each other, they quickly went inside to inform their older brothers that they were going to grab some pizzas and other snacks from town. Immediately the older men relayed their own special requests which left Jungkook playing the Golden Secretary as he jotted it all down on his phone.

“Alright. We’ll be back shortly.”

Not really having a need for a vehicle but deciding it would be best to look normal and blend in with society, they decided to hop in Jungkook’s car and head to town. Vampire or not, with their popular status of being the young geniuses behind the Bullet phones, it was still going to be difficult to blend in with society. But they’d do their best as they parked their expensive car on the street.

“Okay so Jin hyung specifically asked for------”

Taehyung was just about to ask his little brother if he was okay before he too suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. It was evening and the middle of the workweek so not many people were walking the streets but something, or rather someone, had caught the two boys attention.

But......it just didn’t seem possible. For years it had went on like this without a trace and now suddenly......it’s happening. The legends that their Namjoon hyung had talked about when they were just fledglings was real. Before it was just a bedtime story but now......it was suddenly very real.

“What does yours smell like, Kook?”

“Bananas. I think I’m salivating. Oh god. What about yours, hyung?”

“Fresh cut strawberries.”

Both males took one look at each other before starting to follow the scent of their favorite fruit. This was crazy. Just absolutely crazy. It was supposed to be a myth. Just a fairy tale told to young vampires of their kind to help them have good dreams at night. However, it didn’t seem like such a fairy tale now that they were walking like they were two men on a mission to find the holy grail.

“Mine went this way. You text me, maknae!”

“I will, hyung! Good luck!”

“You too, kid!”

Taehyung used his amazing sense of smell to help him track down where the strong scent of strawberries was coming from. In all his years of consuming the juicy red fruits, he had never smelled any quite like this. It was like someone had took the freshest strawberries ever to be grown and shoved them under his nose. It nearly knocked him out when he had first gotten out of the car.

By now, he had wandered several blocks away from their vehicle and was on a much quieter part of town. Then again, it was getting late. The sun was still out but dusk was quickly approaching. That worked for him. The sun wasn’t painful but it tended to give him a dull headache if he stood out in direct light for too long.

The scent was getting stronger and it only made the handsome young male walk faster. Soon enough, he found himself staring at the storefront of what appeared to be an old antique bookstore that someone tried to remodel and revamp but had little success. This was it. He could smell the scent rolling from under the door in waves.

His mate was through this door.

Jungkook lost all sense of direction and time as he simply kept following the scent. Gosh it was so strong he could taste it! It tasted like the best carton of banana milk he had ever had in his life! Trying not to choke on his own drool, he sped up in pace when he could tell the scent was getting stronger and stronger. It’d be real fun to try and find his car later. But that was the least of his worries right now.

What felt like hours but was really only about 20 or 25 minutes, the young male halted in his tracks as he came across what appeared to be a modest looking diner. The neon lights had just turned on as the sun was continuing to set. Subconsciously licking his lips, Jungkook slowly approached the door to the diner and opened it; hearing the little bell chime of his arrival.

“Good evening! Will it be for here or to go?”

“Bloody hell.”

It was you. With your bright smile turning into a confused one as you heard the two words he mumbled under his breath. God you were beautiful. Your hair all tied up to keep it out of customers’ food and that cute frilly apron that made you fit the cookie cutter diner waitress role to a T. You were perfect.

And you were his. All his.

“Hello. Welcome to Shin’s Bookstore. Is there anything I can help you find?”

Taehyung stood there at the front register where she sat. Her. The girl who smelled like fresh cut strawberries. She was just sitting there with her laptop but to the male, she was like a goddess sitting on her pedestal of perfection. He knew his mouth was hanging open but there was nothing he could do about it. So captured by her beauty he was that it left him completely immobile.

The guys weren’t going to be getting their pizza any time soon tonight.

[mdmaayon]

10 Digital Marketing Tips and Tricks from Top Brands

There is no doubt that digital marketing or online marketing is crucial when it comes to the success of any business no matter what industry you are in. Unlike the past where businesses used traditional advertising, today, they are not as effective as online advertising and this has pushed many businesses to adopt online advertising to reach customers. Online marketing is the way to go if you want to reach and create a connection with customers.

Gone are the days when it was difficult to understand what customers want. Today, with the increase in tools such as analytics and digital marketing software, it is far easier to guess — nay, estimate — customer behavior… and cater to it! Online marketing has enabled businesses to gain treasured insights to customers’ minds.

When implemented in the right way, digital marketing will enable your business to target and reach its customers, classify new ones, increase sales, and experience lasting growth.

These digital marketing approaches will make your business visible to your existing customers online and connect you with new ones.

What is Digital Marketing Today?

Digital marketing is the use of the internet and electronic devices to make your business known to your existing and new customers both locally and internationally. It is a means of advertising done through digital platforms like social media, email, mobile apps, websites and search engines.

It today’s digital world, marketing is about connecting with your prospective customers in the right place and at the desired time, selling them with goods and service they need at the right time. This means that you need to target them where they spend most of their time and in this case, it is the internet. Digital marketing encompasses a range of marketing activities such as content marketing, email marketing, search engine optimization, mobile marketing and more.

That being said, below, we’ve compiled a list of the digital marketing tricks used by all the famous business brands in the world.

1. Combine SEO and Content Marketing

SEO used to be a function of coding. Today, most of the metrics included in Google’s algorithm have to do with content and the engagement you win through the distribution of great content. Using various types of content (visual, text, video, infographics, audio, etc) does much better than using a single type of content.

More content – As more businesses embrace content marketing, competition continues to get tougher. Everything you do online is drowned in noise and information overload. If it’s SEO many businesses are doing it. If it’s posting good and original content, many are doing it. So, to beat them, you need to publish better and more content. According to HubSpot data, publishing at least once a week is critical for ROI and ROI drops pretty precipitously when you publish less frequently. However, it’s not about quantity or quality, but an ideal mix of both.

Valuable content – Content should be entertaining, informative, or make the reader feel something. Valuable content encourages subscription to your email, sharing, comments, and other actions that contribute to ROI.

Original content – Content can be audio, video or text but when you decide to use one or all of these digital content, ensure it is good and original. If you can’t create unique, compelling and good content by yourself, you can hire an expert to create content for your website and social media platforms. This is where you will need a powerful content marketing plan like never before.

Appropriate content – As you can see from this infographic from Occam’s Razor, you need to produce content that’s right for each stage in the conversion process (and your metrics need to match your goal with each piece of content).

Knowing where a visitor is in the conversion process isn’t always easy, but, if you’ve done a good job of coding content (applying tracking codes so you know what type of content drove them to visit your site) and use tools that let you track where visitors have been before, you can make an educated guess as to what content they need. By delivering the right content at the right time, you’re more likely to convert visitors.

Reach is important. The more visitors you bring to your site, all things being equal, the higher your ROI. This is one of the reasons it’s important to have several social platforms and have links on your content so visitors can easily share your content. You should share your content once it’s published and here’s a schedule recommended by Kissmetrics:

In addition to sharing your own content, you should share content created by other great companies/ experts. Many experts recommend you share 20% your promotional content and 80% other valuable content you find.

2. Have a Visible Presence on Relevant Social Media Platforms

Being seen online is the key to success for every business, especially in today’s world where almost all businesses have gone digital. It is one of the ways to stand out from the crowd. For this reason, you need to build your online presence on social media networks of relevance. Note that there are plenty of social networks available but you need to identify where your customers spend most of their time and target them there. Pick those that are relevant to your business and prospects and build your online presence there.

3. Optimize Your Website for Mobile-First Browsing

To ensure your content is mobile friendly, your website and social media networks are accessible on desktops and mobile devices. Customers are currently using smartphones and tablets to access the web. So, it is crucial to make your website and content accessible to users on all screen sizes.

4. Use the Right Tools

Digital marketing is an amalgamation of different strategies aimed at a plethora of channels, like SEO, PPC, social media, and so on. In order to ensure that you have an integrated marketing mix, you need the right digital marketing tools to help you run effective campaigns. You also need to develop expertise in using them and applying the insights in the right context.

5. Be Awesome at Design

Design underpins much of what makes digital marketing success. Whether you’re designing a website, a landing page or creating an image for your website, ad, or infographic, you need to have good design skills. Not all of us are whiz kids when it comes to design, but there are some tools to help.

Canva – is a great tool for creating social media images whether you need them for your profile or as images to include in posts. One aspect of Canva I really like is the templates that help design great looking images even if you know nothing about layout or what fonts go together. They’re constantly adding new images and tools, such as infographic templates, to help you out.

Photoshop – granted it’s expensive, but Photoshop is a great design tool. Luckily, you can now get the entire creative cloud from Adobe for as low as $29/ month if you’re in school and a little more to use for business. It used to be more difficult to use Photoshop, but now there are tons of tutorials on YouTube and Photoshop now includes little mini tutorials if you hover over the buttons.

Kuler – If mixing colors isn’t your forte, then Adobe Color is for you. It lets you import an image and get the colors used or you can choose a color to get colors that coordinate well with it.

6. Create an Email List

This should be done from the beginning of your business. If you are on the startup phase, you need to make an email list when planning. Ensure to gather people’s emails where you will be sending them any updates and progress of your business. Send them useful information but avoid spamming them.

7. Spend on Digital Advertising

Online advertising, including PPC (pay per click) campaigns such as Google Ads, Microsoft Ads, social media advertising on platforms such as Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and Twitter, and mobile ads are great to support digital marketing success.

8. Use Infographics

People love infographics because they are attractive. Note that our brains can process pictures must quicker than text. A picture is worth a thousand words, and people will share them more often than texts.

Here are some examples of the best content infographics that awesome marketers have created and used to resonate with their audience.

9. Closely Watch Your Analytics

Almost the other end of the spectrum from creativity is analytics, but that’s exactly the combination you need for digital marketing success. Google Analytics is perfect for understanding critical elements of your website and how visitors navigate through it. If you’re trying to learn how to gain insights from Google Analytics, you can use the Google Data Studio to give it a test drive using data from Google’s e-commerce site.

For analytics outside of Google Analytics, a number of great tools exist. You can use individual analytics from each social network (ie. Facebook, Pinterest, etc), you can bring them all to one place by using a dashboard program such as Cognos (from IBM), or you can pay for a more powerful tool to gain more insights.

10. Integrate Strategies and Campaigns Across Channels

Integrating across these tactics can be really challenging, especially in a larger firm where different teams may manage different platforms or where different ad agencies handle different aspects of marketing, such as content marketing, paid, and social. But, integrate you must to achieve true digital marketing success.