#reader can see ghosts obviously. and ghosts need to settle their scores to move on properly

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ghost!toji x reader ….. hmmmm hm hm hm

[aprilsrant]

Lay all your love on me | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N)’s been crushing on the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain for over three years. Now, in their seventh and last year of Hogwarts, her friends are determined to get them together.

WORD COUNT: 2,833.

WARNINGS: underage drinking. (If there are more and I didn’t put them, let me know).

NEXT PARTS:

Honey Honey! (part two)

When I kissed the teacher (part three).

A/N: so, this came out because of a random idea and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. For some reason, I like to imagine wizards dancing to ABBA, of course it’s the muggleborns and maybe halfbloods that know about them. This was written while I listened to Lay all your love on me, slowed down, on repeat. I algo gave the reader’s friends name because it was easier, and I may or mat not based their personality on my own close friends…

English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I’m sorry! Reblog if you can, and if you have any suggestions or requests just DM!

Masterlist.

tags: @peeves-a-legend​ (thank you for everything).

The Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff Quidditch match had ended with a win for the eagle’s house, although the other team did not make it easy for them. The Hufflepuffs were known for their patience and hard working nature, giving up easily was not one of their traits and that’s exactly what everyone had seen on the match this afternoon. They knew their opponent’s Seeker, Cho Chang was getting better with each game  she played, so the Captain of the Hufflepuff Team decided their best chance was, if he wasn’t fast enough to catch the snitch that is, to lash out against the poor Keeper. 

And so they did. 

The Chasers, Preece, Macavoy and Applebee, were unstoppable. On the occasion the Quaffle landed in their hands, which had been like seventy percent of the time, they would use many different strategies to confuse the other players, including the Keeper, and score a goal.

Even after their brilliant performance, Ravenclaw still won by twenty points ahead when Cho Chang caught the snitch. A small distraction from the Hufflepuff Seeker and Captain had cost them the victory, but that didn’t discourage the badgers, hell, (Y/N) thought nothing could after how well they had played. She had never felt so much respect for the usually overlooked House. 

That was pretty much the reason why the Ravenclaws were so eager to celebrate their win and had invited the whole school, or at least everyone up to the age of fifteen, to their Common Room. Many people believed they weren’t capable of throwing a good party since they were supposed to be smart and have their head on a book every minute, but (Y/N) never doubted them. One of her best friends was a Ravenclaw and that girl sure knew how to have fun, school and good grades being the last thing on her mind whenever she got sight of the Firewhisky. 

If you had asked for (Y/N)’s opinion, she would tell you Ravenclaws were the seconds best at Hogwarts on the matter of hosting parties, Slytherins right up to them. Albeit that may have been biased, she herself was a Slytherin and, thinking about it, she never went to any Gryffindor parties because, well, no one except her other friend wanted a Slytherin there. Many of them thought they were some kind of saints just because they were brave and didn’t realise they were, instead, a bunch of reckless and prejudiced twats. The remaining house, Hufflepuff, took parties to a whole other level and sometimes it became all a little too much. She wasn’t much of a party person but she still enjoyed them from time to time, but they went insane any time alcohol was in the room and started to come up with crazy ideas that would, with no doubt, get them expelled. 

After waiting ten minutes for a member of the house to step out and answer the riddle for her, which (Y/N) knew you didn’t need to be part of the house to reply but even as a Slytherin and having, supposedly, a cunning and intelligent mind she sucked at those kind of questions; she, and twenty others,  finally entered the Ravenclaw Common Room, which was completely renovated since the last time she had visited it.

The circular and wide room was filled with students from all the four houses making it seem smaller than it actually was. The moon shone, filtering through the arched windows, barely illuminated but some flickering and colour changing lights on the ceiling made it work. The furniture was against the wall on the left side so people could dance freely in the middle, while the tables on the right bursted with food and bottles of alcohol. A muggle radio had been placed on one of the large table’s corner and to (Y/N)’s delight, it wasn’t playing any songs by the Weird Sisters. She loathed that band since last year when some students, presumably Gryffindors, enchanted the speakers on the hallways to repeatedly play one of the group’s songs. 

The girl started to move towards the left side of the room, avoiding the crowd growing larger and larger. Trying to catch some familiar faces, she stood on her tiptoes and observed the room, but the lack of light and her problem with seeing things from afar, made her search harder. A couple of minutes had passed when she recognized the trio she was friends with. They were waving and screaming her name, trying to catch her attention, right beside the door that led to the dormitories.  

(Y/N) grinned at them while walking in their direction. Once she settled on Isla’s side, her best friend since childhood, some of her nerves were washed away a little. It was easier for her to be in a place packed with people if she had her close friends as company. Dorian, the last one to join the group in their fifth year, offered her a black cup with, judging by the smell, Quintin Black, her favourite. The corners of her mouth quirking up as a way of saying thanks without having to shout at him to make herself be heard through the loud music.

The Multicolour Quartet — name they all despised but stood with it because it was one of Dorian’s drunk comments when he realised how they were all from different houses; (Y/N) was the Slytherin, he was the Gryffindor, and the other two, Isla and Ethan, were both Ravenclaws — easily fell in a conversation about Isla’s brilliant performance as Chaser for her House’s Team, the other three complimenting her whenever she started to list all the errors that almost allowed the Hufflepuffs to win.

Spacing out of her friend’s chat, (Y/N)’s eyes peer round the room looking, nearly in a desperate way, for someone in particular. Answering the comments the other three made with a simple nod of her head or a yes to seem like she was paying attention, her eyes fixated in a figure directly across from them, supporting it’s body’s weight on a wall. He was surrounded by some of his classmates and friends from the same house, but she could still see, albeit with great trouble, his short brown hair and his right hand holding a black cup, equal to the one she had. 

She failed to realise that her friends had noticed where her attention travelled to. Sharing knowing glances and smirks they knew it was time for (Y/N) to talk to the boy she’d been crushing on for three years now. Isla and Ethan left saying some people were starting to cause trouble, not that (Y/N) had actually listened to them, too lost in attempting to catch another glimpse of the boy. That ended on Dorian, the most chaotic of the four, finding the way to make them, at least, share two or three words.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her left arm dragging her along the room and pushing people on the way. That belonged to Dorian and it didn’t take long for her to understand what he was doing, his mischievous smile betraying him. Her eyes widened and she shook her head while planting her feet on the floor, putting all her strength on them so he wouldn’t move her. She didn’t succeed. Obviously because of his friend’s stronger hands. 

A chant of pleas and several no exited from her mouth, but it was useless. If something got inside Dorian’s head, then nothing could stop him from doing it. A trait they both shared and the cause of a few of their arguments, neither of them knew when to back the hell down. Not even the promise of (Y/N) doing his Arithmancy homework for two weeks made him stop on his tracks. Dorian had really compromised to the cause because she knew how much he detested that subject, only taking it to please his father. 

Before she could raise the offer to a month, they were already in front of him and the group he was chatting with. 

Oliver Wood smiled at the two friends, recognizing only one of them but still being kind and inviting towards her, whose heart was about to jump out of her chest from how fast it was beating. 

“Hey, Wood, how’re you doing?,” Dorian greeted him first and then nodded at the others as if he was saying hi, “preparing for the Quidditch match next week?”

(Y/N) stood awkwardly by Dorian’s side, looking and smiling shyly at people she had never interacted with. She was going to cut this boy’s head of the minute everyone left.

“Yeah, the Hufflepuffs played like hell today.” She heard Oliver say. His words tumbling with each other. Was he already starting to get drunk? “I think I’ll need to book more practices if we want to win next week”.

Luckily, or not, Dorian noticed he hadn’t introduced his friend to the group yet. And even if she didn’t like to just stand there like a rigid stick, she hated the new attention.

“This is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), by the way,” he announced while placing his right hand on the upper side of her back and pushing her body to the front. And the shy smile made an appearance on her face once more. 

She whispered a small hello, looking at everyone but Oliver, and instantly felt the need to jump off the Astronomy Tower, not long after making Dorian the next designated Gryffindor Ghost. 

“What house are you in? I’ve never seen you before,” questioned one of the boys next to Oliver with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a lost look on his eyes, as if he was trying to place her and remember the colours of the tie she used daily.

“She’s not a Gryffindor, maybe that’s why you haven’t seen her much,” Dorian answered before she had the chance to, “she’s actually a Slytherin.” A new expression on his face now, intimidating the others to see if they dared to express some kind of negative or stupid comment to his friend about the house she belonged to. No one said anything. She saw Dorian smiling proudly from the corner of her eye, but in that moment (Y/N) had the weird sensation she was some kind of prey to starving lions.

The group began to talk to each again, like nothing happened, all except Oliver, who was looking at her with his eyebrows raised and an intriguing sparkle in his dark brown eyes.

Dorian spoked once more.

Does he ever shut up?

“Remember the other day you said you were falling behind in Potions and Transfiguration?” Oliver nodded at him, signalising her friend to keep talking. “Well, I have the perfect person to help you with that. (Y/N) tutors me from time to time in those subjects too.”

Forget the Astronomy Tower, she desperately needed some kind of magical earthquake that could crack the floor beneath her feet and swallow her whole.

It’s not like Dorian was lying, she had helped him, and still did sometimes, to study for an important test, not only in Potions and Transfiguration, but also in the rest of the subjects they shared. Merlin knew that boy was a disaster when talking about paying attention to classes. But that didn’t mean she was good enough to tutor Oliver freaking Wood. (Y/N) could treat Dorian how she wanted if he wasn’t trying to, at least, know what she was talking about, they were friends and most of their time together was spent hitting each other, but how was she supposed to act around the precious Gryffindor Quidditch Captain?

“Great!,” Oliver exclaimed quickly. A sudden blush crept all the way from below his turtle neck to his cheeks, but she couldn’t identify if it happened because of the alcohol or embarrassment from sounding “too enthusiastic”. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I was about to start looking for one. McGonagall said that if I don’t get my grades up to an Exceeds Expectations, I won’t be able to play the rest of the matches.”

“That sucks, but you’d found one already so you two can start immediately with the tutoring sessions”, Dorian commented slily while looking at her with the smile of a champion adorning his face.

He was trying exceptionally hard, she had to give him that.

In a swift movement, she drank the whole content of her cup to see if the knot that had formed on her stomach would go away. The blonde girl, perhaps a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, beside (Y/N) noticed her drink was missing and offered her to reach out for one of the bottles of the table across. The Slytherin nodded and asked for the bottle of Quintin Black if there was still one.

“So you like Scottish things?” Oliver observed, with his eyes lighted up and his bottom lip stuck beneath his teeth, when he saw her grab the bottle of alcohol filled to the middle with onyx liquid. 

“She sure does.” She heard Dorian mumble, he had tried to hide the smirk burying his face on his cup but (Y/N) took notice of that too. After giving him a pointed look, she turned her head towards Oliver, who, hopefully, hadn’t heard her friend’s remark; if he had, he was good at concealing it.

Her response was interrupted by the starting melody of “Lay all your love on me”, one of her favourite songs, and a voice that could only belong to her best friend, screaming her name. Out of nowhere, Isla took her hand, said something to Oliver and Dorian about returning her to them later, and yanked (Y/N) to the direction of the made up dance floor, making her almost drop the cup she was holding.

It was an unspoken rule between them, whenever one of their favourite songs was on the radio, they would stop what they were doing, important or not, and start to dance and sing, without caring about other people’s opinion. It was something like a ritual that had become a safe space and a signature of their friendship for both of the girls.

A few seconds through the song had played when Celine stopped dancing and approached her friend, whispering something in her ear.

“Okay, don’t look and don’t freak out, but Oliver hot stuff Wood is staring at you.”

“What? What do I do?” 

“Just keep dancing, I guess, maybe he likes it.”

“I don’t know how to dance, why would he like it?” 

Confusion and panic in her eyes, (Y/N) tried to think about all the logical reasons Oliver Wood, one of the most attractive guys in the school, could be watching her dance. The girl knew she wasn’t beautiful, even if her best friend repeatedly said so, she wasn’t funny or interesting and, on top of all, she belonged in Slytherin, the House with the worst reputation. 

“No idea, but whatever it is, keep doing it.” 

Her best friend winked at her, a large and contagious smile spreading over her face. Grabbing one of (Y/N)’s hands, she made her twirl around following the fast beat of the song. Seizing the opportunity, (Y/N) glanced at Oliver and discovered that he was, indeed, staring at her while he drank from his black cup.

A random and unexpected laugh flew out of her mouth. Her best friend, carefree as always, began to giggle with her while dancing around the room. She had never felt more alive, and some people would think she was ridiculous for actually thinking it, but singing her favourite song at the top of her lungs, dancing and laughing and just having fun with her best friend. Excitement running through her veins uniting with the nerves Oliver’s attention towards her had provoked; a slight headache caused by the alcohol mixing with the new confidence coming from the same thing. 

Aware of the dark brown eyes focusing on her, she turned around once more, but this time she didn’t look away. She kept singing, beaming at him from the middle of the dance floor, and maintaining eye contact. A sudden thought appeared on her mind, if she’d had maybe one more full cup of Quintin Black, perhaps she would’ve been confident enough to ask him on a date. 

Don’t go wasting your emotions, lay all your love on me.

Don’t go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me.

(Y/N) didn’t think that he would take that as an invitation when she whispered the words while looking at him, it wasn’t even meant to be one, but Oliver Wood had left his cup on the table next to him and was now walking towards her.

A little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck. 

I still don’t know what you’ve done with me.

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Ephemera Chapter Fifteen

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 6.8k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Hiya! Here’s the next installment. I’ve finally added links to all my previous chapters for easier access, so if you missed any chapters please do check my masterlist! Also, next week my chapter might be a bit early as I’ll be on the road driving so I’ll have to post while I still have wifi. Anyway, please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them! Links will be added later, so for now check my masterlist to find previous chapters!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all! And concert videos!!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

I sat at a lavish table surrounded by food. Like the day before, Hayoon and Jaesun had ordered lots of dishes, perhaps sampling each, and the three of us were now settled before a banquet. Filet mignon, grilled salmon, crab cakes, lobster mac and cheese, German potatoes, and a whole bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon to split between us. I stared slack-jawed at the vast array of food and drink, and the couple — now sharply dressed as they’d been at the charity event — watched my awe with knowing smiles.

We’d met at Nunchi an hour before and walked together into a pristine black car, ushered in by a driver. The drive to Gangnam had been relatively quiet, perhaps due to my own reservations about these people. Although they were Taehyung’s parents, I found it hard to be completely at ease around them when their wealth was so obviously vast.

“Dig in, dear,” said Hayoon, brushing a stray hair back into the perfect bun at the nape of her neck.

Jaesun smiled and piled some mac and cheese onto his plate. I stiffened and looked around the airy, bright restaurant. Surely, this would look odd. This wasn’t the sort of place to share food. But the staff either didn’t mind or were conditioned not to ask too many questions, because they continued bustling across the floor like ghosts, heads down, backs straight.

I cleared my throat and nodded, slicing off a piece of steak and placing it atop my plate. “Um…,” I began, guiding my knife down. “Pardon me, but…why exactly have you been seeking me out?” I asked, meeting Hayoon’s eyes.

She raised her brows before settling into an easy smile. “Ah, well,” she began, waving a fork-wielding hand. “Our son, Taehyung, talks about you quite frequently. For a while now, Jaesun and I were very curious about what sort of person you were.”

I swallowed hard and blinked up at her, at her weathered but lovely face. “Ah,” I said with a stiff nod. “I apologize if I don’t live up to your expectations.”

She laughed and shook her head, chomping down on some salmon. “Not at all, sweetheart,” she said, then sighed. “When we let him move, he was so plucky about things. We set him up in his apartment, but that was the extent of the help he’d accept. Working all over the place. I guess we worried for him more than we said.”

I hummed and nodded. “He would’ve probably scolded you if you’d worried too much,” I said with a fond smile.

She laughed. “I agree.”

“We told him to call us if he ever needed help,” said Jaesun with a full-mouthed nod. “But the kid’s so damn stubborn. He never tells anyone when he’s struggling. At any rate, when he opened his gallery he finally started telling us more about his everyday life.”

“Maybe because he felt like he’d finally succeeded,” I offered with a nod, plopping a serving of potatoes onto my plate. These two seemed unfazed by the way they were perceived, so I tried quickly to follow suit.

Jaesun nodded, waving his steak knife at me. “Exactly!” he said, then laughed. “Anyway, when he started updating us, it was mostly about the gallery and the name that kept coming up was yours.”

“We were very curious,” said Hayoon. “He was really troubled about you for a while, but it seems like he worries a little less these days.”

I hummed. Was it that he worried less or that he spoke about his worries less? Taking a sip of wine, I nodded my head. “He’s been pushing me for a long time to start standing up for myself. I guess lately I’ve been doing that.”

Hayoon smiled and it really touched her eyes. “That’s good, dear,” she said with a nod. “Can’t get anywhere in life if you don’t advocate for yourself.”

“Are you the ones who taught Taehyung that?” I asked, swirling my wine around and watching the feet as they trailed down the side of the glass.

“Learned it from me, probably,” said Jaesun with a gruff laugh. “Kid’s more serious than he looks because I put a lot of responsibility on him growing up.”

I raised my brows. “What sort of responsibility?”

“Well, back in Daegu we run a pretty successful law firm and Tae helped out around the office when he was younger. I thought the kid would be my successor, but, you know, the art and all that…,” said Jaesun with a hearty laugh. “Anyway, I started the firm when Taehyung was a kid and he watched me dig it up from the ground. It’s not easy starting your own firm, I’ll tell you that. But once we got rolling, we kept rolling.”

“What kind of law do you practice?” I asked, watching the usually boisterous man become stoic and sober with every passing word.

He hummed, sipping his wine and smiled. “Bankruptcy and employment law mostly, but we dabble in family law. We try to help people get out of difficult situations.”

I nodded. It made sense now why Taehyung was such a busybody, trying to give assistance even when he wasn’t asked. I felt a small pang of guilt over keeping secrets from a person like that, but then I remembered what he’d said the last time we spoke.

You definitely shouldn’t be involved in this stuff anymore.

Just like his father, swooping in and trying to take responsibility for someone else’s hardships and mistakes. When a person’s out of options, out of capital, filing for bankruptcy is the only option. But the problem with bankruptcy is that it wreaks havoc on your credit score for years after. Just how damaging would it be for me to just…leave this to him? When I can still do something about it myself? When I wasn’t yet out of options?

I heard a cell phone vibrate and Hayoon jumped. She grabbed the phone from her leather bag and her features lit up as she read the name. “It’s Hwayoung,” she said with a grin toward her husband. She turned to me and chuckled. “Our daughter.” Daughter…

Jaesun’s thick, graying brows raised and he returned the smile. “Answer it!”

She turned to me, almost pleading, and I nodded once, waving my hands. She pressed the phone to her ear. “Hey sweetie!” her motherly tone, the way she cupped her hand over the bottom of her phone, cradling it against her cheek, her gentle smile, barely-there dimples: something about it made my heart clench.

I rubbed my hands together before lacing them atop my lap, watching my black dress stretch over my thighs. This moment felt intimate in a way I couldn’t intrude upon, a way that felt like trespassing to observe. I tried to tune out their joyful conversation out of respect — or perhaps self preservation — and did my best not to look melancholy, keeping my smile pasted on my lips without a single budge.

I waited for Taehyung to buzz me up the elevator a few hours later. It had been a while since the two of us had spoken, and I wasn’t so sure how much to tell him. Surely, telling him about Namjoon wasn’t the best idea. But wouldn’t it be better for him to know now rather than find out later?

After a quiet elevator ride, I emerged in the hallway and found my way to his door, knocking twice. “Hey,” I said as he emerged on the other side, smiling.

He hadn’t shaved in a few days if the darker patch of skin above his lip was anything to go by. His hair was a disaster and he was draped in a massive sweatshirt and pants that were too short to cover his ankles. The glasses he usually wore perfectly were sliding down the bridge of his nose and he had circles beneath his eyes. He looked down at me with unbridled happiness and it took me several moments to overcome the shock at seeing the state of him to slide inside his apartment.

Cleaner than before, the place didn’t look as rough as Taehyung did. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said his condition was improving if the state of his apartment was anything to go by. I figured he had a maid or something, because the incongruity between his appearance and his apartment’s was too great. But once I turned back to look at him, I noticed him yawning, stretching his arms above his head like a cat.

And with a sigh, I resolved to keep everything to myself.

He never tells anyone when he’s struggling.

He was my friend, first and foremost, and he needed help. He needed me. One look at him was enough to tell. He was overwhelmed more than he’d ever admit. Hadn’t he been the one who’d decided to reveal his identity and throw his notions of privacy to the breeze? I glanced at him over my shoulder, watching as he rested his hands in his pockets and greeted me with a smile.

“Taehyung,” I began, eyeing him.

He hummed in response and walked closer. “Yeah?”

“How long has it been since you’ve changed clothes?” I asked, examining the wrinkles in his sweatshirt.

He paused and raised his brows. “Ah, does it smell old?” he asked, tugging on it a little with a bashful smile. “Sorry. It’s been a few days.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that,” I said, then sighed. “You’re not taking very good care of yourself, are you?”

He swallowed hard and laughed a little breathily. “Ha, well it’s not like I’m not taking care of myself, it’s just…”

I sighed and gave his upper arm a squeeze. “I’m just worried,” I said with a nod. “Your parents are too, even if they don’t say it.”

“You met my parents?”

“Haven’t you been keeping an eye on the tabloids?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

He flushed and laughed once more, averting his gaze. “Well, I’ve been meaning to but I guess I’m in a…a little bit of a slump right now.”

Quietly, I eased down onto his couch and patted the empty space beside me. He sighed, joining me. “Wanna talk about it?” I asked, watching him in profile. His eyes were downcast, shoulders slumped just a little.

“It’s really not a big deal,” he said with a shrug.

There it was again. That diversion. I tried to put my finger on what exactly about it felt so melancholy, so dismissive. “Well if you keep everything to yourself you’re just going to be miserable alone.”

He glanced at me, eyes wide. “Hm?”

I laced my fingers on my lap and sighed. “Your parents mentioned something like that. Like you not reaching out when you need help.”

He stiffened. Had I made a mistake telling him that? He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, and nodded. “I…I guess they worry a lot, huh?”

“They’d worry less if you told them about your problems,” I urged.

“Well…more than anything, I think I’m just kinda scared,” he said, then shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, brows furrowed. “Not that it’s a big deal or anything. Honestly, I’m fi-,”

“Don’t say you’re fine.”

He paused, set his lips thin, and nodded. “Alright,” he said with a long exhale. “I’m spooked.”

“Because people know who you are now?” I asked.

He nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Mhm,” he said, then shook his head. “Leaving the apartment is hard. I’ve had my assistant bring me food and clean up the apartment, but other than that I haven’t really seen anyone.”

“And classes?”

He was quiet, hands clasped like he was praying. “I think I’m gonna drop out.”

I opened my mouth to scold him, but stopped short. To say something like that, to give up on something he truly loved and valued…it seemed that it was hard for him to even say it. Like he was hurting.

So instead, I only nodded and rested my hand on his back. I smoothed circles onto the planes of his shoulder blades and watched as he released a shaky exhale. “That’s a shame,” I said with a nod. “But…if that’s what you feel like you need to do, then I’ll support you.”

He eyed me, brows knit, and I caught a brief glimpse of vulnerability in his expression. “Really?” he asked.

I nodded. “If it’s what’ll make you happy.”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers, and sat upright. my hand fell to the back of the couch. “I don’t know when I became so weak.”

“It’s not weakness, Taehyung,” I said, smiling gently as I rested my hand once more atop my lap. “It’s fear. Everyone’s scared. Most people just hide it better.”

“When I was young,” he began, wringing his hands, “Kids weren’t too kind to me.”

My brows raised. “Hm? Were you bullied?” I asked.

He chuckled and shrugged. “At the time, I didn’t think of it that way. I thought being teased was just part of being a kid. My classmates didn’t like me from the start because of my parents’ money. I can understand that. But what they hated more was my drawings. I tried not to get down about it, but…it got to me. And I guess I was too ashamed to tell my family.”

I sighed. “You felt like you had to handle it on your own?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. I guess it made me really scared of standing out in any way. If I can blend in, then…then nobody can really hurt me.”

Quietly, I nodded my head. A thick silence enveloped us, and for a while I didn’t know how to slice through it. So, for a few moments, we simply sat there side by side, neither one speaking as the distant, muffled sounds of the city swirled on outside the big windows.

I glanced at him, at the mile-long gaze he had, and pressed a hand to his shoulder. He jolted a little, like the touch brought him back to reality, and I smiled. “For what it’s worth,” I began, “I think those people who hurt you in the past are really regretting it now.”

He was quiet for half a beat before releasing one sharp chuckle that quickly devolved into choppy, almost desperate laughter. I joined him, mindful of the way tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. I felt that, for the tiniest of moments, I could really understand him.

I released a huff of breath and stood to my feet, patting my thighs with a smile. I extended a hand to Taehyung which he took without a moment’s hesitation. He stood upright in front of me and, quickly, I slipped my hand free. I angled myself behind him and pushed him by the shoulders toward his bathroom.

“Go take a shower and put on a fresh set of clothes,” I said, to which he only laughed. “I’ll make some food.”

He paused and turned to me, clearly ready to fight me on it, but I silenced him with the cock of one eyebrow. He shut his mouth and opted instead for a small, bashful smile and a nod.

“Sorry it’s not much,” I said with a chuckle. “I’m not the best cook.”

Taehyung shook out his wet hair, water droplets clinging to the ends, and peered over my shoulder at the pan I was managing. He’d changed into a nice shirt and joggers, his skin glowing from the shower. “I like fried rice,” he said with a chuckle before plopping down at the barstool beside the counter.

I glanced at him over my shoulder and noticed he was resting his freshly shaven chin in his hand, watching me with a fond smile. I wasn’t quite sure why, but my stomach felt a little fluttery and I turned back to the food, pushing the rice and vegetables around with the spatula.

“Can I have one of your beers?” I asked quietly, not looking back again. I could feel him staring at me.

“Mhm,” he said. I kept an eye on the pan as I wandered toward the fridge and pulled out a can. “Get one for me too, hm?”

“Sure thing,” I said, grabbing a second one and sliding it to him. I paused across the counter, the two of us locking eyes as he plunged the tab down and took an easy swig. “Your parents…,” I began, rolling the toe of my sneaker into the ground. “They’re really nice.”

He chuckled, nodding and pointing with his free hand to my untouched beer. I followed suit and cracked it open, pressing the can to my lips. “They’re good folks,” he said with a sigh, eyes going far away. He pulled his glasses off his nose and cleaned the foggy patches with the sleeve of his shirt. “They never really let me want for anything.”

“Is that why you wanted to move here and do things yourself?” I asked, resting my palms on the counter.

He hummed. “Probably, yeah,” he said with a sigh. “They were really great, but I guess…those kids kinda got to me a little. Saying I had everything handed to me.” He paused to laugh and tilted his head to the side, eyes hazy with reverie. “They had a point.”

“They were assholes,” I said.

He raised his brows and glanced at me, wide-eyed. “Hm?” he asked, then laughed. “I’m having deja vu.”

“What?”

“Last time we drank together you talked like this too,” he said, chuckling. “Out of character.”

I stiffened, flushed, and turned back to the rice. “My character is very nuanced,” I said, pouting a little as I plated the food.

“Mhm,” he said, grinning as I placed the fried rice in front of him. “Thank you for cooking.”

I shrugged and joined him on one of the barstools. “It was nothing,” I said with a shrug, digging in. The two of us ate in comfortable silence for a few moments before a thought struck me. “Hey, I never knew you had a sister.”

He laughed, sipping his beer, and peered at me out the corner of his eye. “She’s a curse. I didn’t wanna risk cursing you too.”

I shoved his arm and furrowed my brow. “Don’t say that.”

With a smile, he shrugged and took another bite of food. “She’s actually really great, Hwayoung. I think I spent most of my childhood in awe of her.”

“What do you mean?”

He laughed lightly. “She’s like…a force of nature. Super strong,” he swirled his beer around in the can and hummed. “Actually, while I was being bullied she was usually the one to come to the rescue.”

“Really?” I asked. I wanted to meet the kind of person who could stand up to a group of bullies for her younger brother…

“Mhm.” He sighed. “She’s really outspoken and opinionated, and when it comes to injustice she doesn’t tolerate it. That’s probably why she naturally found her way to law.”

“She’s a lawyer?” I asked, smiling. “Like your dad.”

He scoffed. “My dad wishes he could take credit for it,” he said with a laugh. “But, no. Hwayoung isn’t a lawyer just yet. She’s studying in the US.”

“So far!” I said with a sigh. “Man, she sounds cool.”

“Don’t let all that fool you,” said Taehyung with a laugh. “She drives me crazy.”

“Well now she really sounds cool.”

He rolled his eyes, but nonetheless he was smiling. My heart settled a little. “I guess she is pretty cool,” he said, then took a sip of beer. “I wanted to live like her. Independent. Self-sustaining. The kind of person who sees injustice and fixes it.”

With a smile I took a swig. “I think you’re already that sort of person.”

“No,” he said with a sigh. “I’m still too weak. Too scared. Hwayoung was always really brave.”

“Hm,” I responded, chewing on a piece of carrot.

“Kinda reminds me of you sometimes.”

I stiffened. “Your parents said something similar at the gala,” I said.

He smiled. “I noticed it for the first time when we followed Jungkook to that club,” he said as he chewed on his rice, nodding. “You were really quick. Thought on your feet. And you were determined too. Very bold.”

“Funny…,” I remarked, thinking back with a laugh. “Seems the only time I can be bold is when I’m drunk.”

He shook his head, smiling gently at me. “No,” he said. “Lately at work I’ve seen it too.” He paused, like a thought had suddenly struck him, and he hummed a little. “I wonder if the reason I started looking after you is because I could see just a tiny bit of her in you.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at me and smiled, eyes shutting as he rested his cheek in his hand. “I mean…when you’re working you’re so capable. I think I saw that and saw how easily you were…tamed I guess. How easily you could go from this cool, confident person to someone docile and obedient. Made me worry about you.”

My cheeks felt hot to the touch and I pressed the half-empty beer can against my burning skin in the hopes of cooling it down. “I see.”

“Not that I was, like, watching you super intently! Just, you know…keeping an eye on you,” he said, then sighed and waved his hand. “Forget it.”

I was happy to. Carefully, I took a peek at his plate and noticed he was finished. I gobbled up the rest of my rice and gathered our utensils. “I’ll get going once I’m done cleaning.”

“Ah…,” said Taehyung in an exhale, and I discerned a measure of disappointment in his voice.

At the sink, I turned over my shoulder and eyed him. He watched the countertop where his hands were splayed palms-down, a sad smile on his face. Guilt traced through me. Over his shoulder, the sky was beginning to sprinkle autumn rain onto the busy streets of Seoul, navy-blue night sky extending in every direction punctured only by the city skyline.

I sighed, holding a plate and sponge in my hands, and pursed my lips. “Well…maybe I should stay a little longer. Wait out the rain,” I said with a nod, continuing to scrub. “Gotta walk to the station anyway.”

He visibly straightened up and, like some sort of kept animal, showed me his eager face. “Yeah! No, that’s a great idea.”

I smiled and nodded. “Alright then. Let’s watch a movie or something.”

I wasn’t so sure when I’d fallen asleep, but when I woke up the only light came from the moon hanging low outside the windows and the only sound was rhythmic breathing coming from somewhere beside me. As my senses returned, I glanced around the moon-drenched living room and stretched my arms above my head. I’d awoken on my side, leaning heavily on the arm of Taehyung’s large couch. It seemed Taehyung had turned off the television as the room was dark. Beside me on the couch, leaning on the opposite sofa arm, was Taehyung, glasses clinging just barely to the tip of his nose as gravity urged them downward. He looked serene, a shaft of silver light catching in his hair, and gently I scooted closer to get a good look at him.

“Stupid,” I said, sighing as he wiggled slightly in his sleep. “If you’d just rely on people more, you’d be happier.” I stood upright and padded to the hallway, searching the cabinets for a few spare blankets.

Once I found them, I returned to the living room and found Taehyung’s glasses on the floor and his mouth hanging open. Chuckling, I draped the blanket over his shoulders and involuntarily he snuggled into it. I followed suit quickly, plopping onto the couch and resting properly this time, leaning my head against one of his plush pillows.

“Y/N?”

I groaned and swatted my hand at the voice dragging me from my dreams.

“You gotta get up and check your phone.”

“Mm,” I mumbled, flailing my hand once more. But by then, I’d been awoken. Grumpy, I pried my eyes open and saw the living room bathed in morning light and Taehyung standing above me with a smile and a piece of toast in his hand.

“You awake now?”

I nodded, rubbing my eyes, and pushed myself to my feet. “Yeah,” I said, grabbing the toast he offered me and popping it in my mouth. “Why’d you wake me up?”

He chuckled and pointed to my cell phone, which he’d politely plugged in to his own wall charger. “It’s been going off for, like, an hour.”

I sniffled and nodded. “Alright,” I said, crouching beside the outlet. Taehyung laughed lightly before turning on his heel and rifling through the fridge. He pulled out a few apples. “Hey, do you have oatmeal?”

“Oatmeal?” he asked with a scoff. “What, are you eighty?”

I rolled my eyes, unlocking my phone. “Oatmeal is an excellent source of fiber and in the colder months it helps…,” I began, but my sentence trailed into silence as I registered what was on my phone.

Six missed calls from Jungkook.

Ten texts.

Heart racing, I rushed to my messages and opened the app. Could there be an emergency? Had something happened at the HQ? Was my cover blown before I could even do any digging?

Coconut: hey, u got plans today?

Coconut: should probably get a jump on ur…’investigation’ ;)

Coconut: shit, probably shouldn’t say stuff like that when Jin could check my phone…

Coconut: just kidding. hehe.

Coconut: are you not awake yet? it’s almost eleven…

Coconut: Y/N…are you at Taehyung’s house? I just saw an article.

Coconut: If you’re seeing him, then just be honest with me. I don’t want to be strung along…

Coconut: Although you have every right to punish me after what I did to you…

Coconut: Fuck.

Coconut: Please respond…

I chewed on my lip and drafted a response, but Taehyung was quick to come back and check on me once he sensed the shift in my mood. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, crouching beside me and wrapping a warm arm around my shoulders.

I stiffened and pressed the phone to my chest. If I told him everything now, he’d only scold me and demand I stop. His eyes went round and he scanned me, surprised. “Yeah! It was my dad,” I said, shaking my head. “Ah, anyway, oatmeal?”

His expression softened and he laughed, ruffling my hair. “Don’t have it,” he said, standing to his feet and wandering back to the kitchen. “I’m not a grandpa.”

I glanced back down at my phone and typed as quickly as I could.

Y/N: HQ in an hour. Will explain then.

I rushed up to the building, still wearing the leisure clothes I’d worn to Taehyung’s house, heart racing. Why did I run when Jungkook called? Was I truly going to fall for this idiot all over again? As I approached the metal front doors, I glanced around and paused for a moment, staring at its massive brick facade. While I was here, I might as well case the joint since I didn’t have the chance last time. If I could find a way into that basement, perhaps I could find documents that implicated Seokjin. Of course, it would be difficult. I didn’t expect finding evidence to be simple.

But as I wandered down the alleyway in search of any alternate way in, I really didn’t expect things to be quite so hard. There was nothing on the left side of the building or around the back. No stairs leading down to the basement, no window to crawl into and sneak around. I’d have to find another way in, or perhaps find another means of gathering intel. I sighed as I rounded the corner, snuggled between two stout buildings, to the alleyway on the right side of the warehouse. But as my feet collided with the cracked concrete, I paused a moment and lingered behind a rusting dumpster, a voice carrying loudly through the narrow passage right to me.

“No…”

Someone was on the phone. I pressed my hands against the cool metal and pressed myself close, eager to hear more. Peering cautiously around the side of the dumpster, I saw a figure at the mouth of the alleyway, arms crossed, pacing back and forth. On the shorter side with a slim build, the figure’s body language screamed frustration. As they turned around, I quickly hid once more, clinging to the lip of the dumpster

“I’m not going to entertain this conversation any longer,” said the voice, terse.

And in an instant I recognized who was speaking. I inched up on my toes to check once more, just to be absolutely certain, and saw that indeed my hypothesis was correct. Min Yoongi stood just couple yards away from me, eyes on his sneakers, wandering in imperfect circles around the front of the skinny alleyway.

I stiffened and fell back down behind the dumpster, clinging to shadow. Who was he on the phone with? And why did he sound so irritated? I’d never heard him speak so stiffly before, but I’d also never heard him sound so firm.

If I was on the other end of that call, I’d be scared as hell.

He sighed. “Listen, you tell the CEO that if he wants to talk to me he can do it himself, got it?” he said, but even though it was framed as a question, I knew it was an order.

I swallowed hard and tried to still my pounding heart with a pat to my chest. What sort of business did a CEO have with a criminal hacker? The information was intriguing and tantalizing, and something in me told me to listen very, very closely to what he said next. I wished I’d had the wherewithal to grab my phone from my purse before rounding the corner so I could record it.

Huh. Well, that wasn’t such a bad idea to gather evidence on Seokjin, was it?

“Just because we’re working together doesn’t mean we have a relationship now,” said Yoongi with a scoff. “Tell your boss not to get ahead of himself.”

What a commanding presence. I felt myself grow smaller with each passing word, crouching down lower and lower.

“I’m hanging up,” said Yoongi with a sigh, but instead of walking out of the alleyway, he lingered, not moving a single foot. Was he perhaps bluffing? Seeing how far he could push this person on the other line? “Well, that’s not much of a bargain to me. What do I gain?” He was quiet for a moment before laughing, a sharp, dangerous, sarcastic sound. “Are you kidding me? I make more in three months than I would in a year with your company.”

Was Yoongi being recruited? I furrowed my brow and tried to listen closer.

“Whatever. I’ve got my own business to take care of,” he began, then chuckled. “And remember to tell him what I said, alright?” There was a cocky edge to his voice, but also a small measure of appeal. Like he really wanted this boss to know what he said.

I sighed, rubbing my chilly hands together and preparing to leave as the conversation seemed to have ended. I wiped my palms on my pants and stood upright, still concealed by the dumpster.

But as I turned to leave, I heard Yoongi say one final thing and the words stung my ears like a cold blast of autumn wind.

“And if you have business with me in the future, go through Bangtan, Younghoon.”

I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp and felt my eyes go wide as I crouched once more behind the dumpster. I shook my head and listened as Yoongi chuckled, fabric scuffed against itself, and footsteps sounded, growing more and more distant.

Younghoon…

That guy from Sanyo Industries…

Dazed, I entered the warehouse. Sitting at the same table Yoongi had dragged in front of me while I was kidnapped, Jimin sat playing cards with Hoseok. All around, sketchy characters milled about, mostly men, giving me eyes that I knew were up to no good. Feeling uncomfortable, I pulled out a chair beside Jimin and sat down quickly.

He jumped a little at my sudden entrance, but quickly broke into an ear-splitting smile. “Hey!” he exclaimed, pointing at me.

Hoseok wore a matching grin. “Whoa, you’re really back, huh?” he asked, chuckling. “You a glutton for suffering or what?”

I smiled a little, the shock of what I’d heard slowly fleeing my system, and adjusted Jimin’s dark bucket hat just slightly. “You two are the only good people here, I swear,” I mumbled as I fussed with his hat.

Jimin giggled and swatted my hands away. “Don’t baby me!” he said, lifting his head to scowl at me. “I’m a grown man.”

“And we’re not the only good ones,” added Hoseok as he touched his face-down pile of cards with the tip of his finger. “Jungkook’s here too.”

I sighed, resting my chin in my hand, and eyed their game. Hoseok seemed to have more cards than Jimin, and neither of them were reviewing their hands. “What’re you playing?” I asked.

“War,” said Jimin with a smirk. “Wanna moderate?”

I smiled. “I’ve only played once when I was in middle school,” I said with a shake of my head. “I’ll watch for a while though.”

Jimin shrugged and the two of them locked eyes. “One,” he began, grabbing the first card on his deck, “two,” he continued, neither breaking eye contact, “three!”

On three the two both threw down their cards. Jimin’s card: six of spades. Hoseok’s: ace of hearts. Hoseok laughed and collected both cards, placing them on the bottom of his pile, and laughed as Jimin gaped at him.

“Didn’t you just have another ace?!” he shouted, pointing at Hoseok with an accusing pointer finger.

“I’m just lucky,” said Hoseok with a smug grin.

Jimin scoffed. “You rigged it!”

“How do you rig war?”

“I dunno! But you did!”

I laughed as the two descended into bickering. Before I could settle into my seat, I felt something tall looming over me from behind, blocking out sunlight, and turned quickly to see Jungkook staring down at me with a pout on his lips and his arms crossed.

He said I had every right to punish him, and yet still reacted this way to being ignored for a few hours?

It would’ve been cute if we were actually dating…

“Hey,” I said with a soft smile.

He cocked a brow, disbelieving, and worked his jaw in circles. “Hey…that’s it?”

I chuckled. “Yep.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I know you’re still mad about everything, but-,”

My eyes went wide. He was about to say too much. If anyone here knew we were getting closer, they’d get suspicious and I wouldn’t be able to use him as a resource any longer. I stood upright and placed my hands on his shoulders, wheeling him around to the back of the warehouse, behind the partition where nobody went.

“Sorry guys! I’ll watch more next time!” I called over my shoulder at the boys with a wave.

Jimin returned it, albeit somewhat hesitantly, and Hoseok simply laughed.

Soon, Jungkook and I were alone, back in that cramped back space where I’d spent an evening tied up. I glanced at the patch of brick that I’d leaned against and scowled, remembering the strike that Seokjin had blown. Somehow, the blow to my pride was more painful. Served me right for expecting anybody not to be horrible.

I glanced up at Jungkook and found him staring right into my eyes, not once wavering. “I have an update,” I said, mindful to keep my voice near a whisper.

Jungkook’s expression didn’t change. “Mm,” was all he said.

I cleared my throat. “I can’t get into the basement alone to snoop around, so maybe I can get a recording instead.”

“Is that all our relationship is to you? A way to get revenge?” he asked, voice too loud.

I stiffened and placed my hand against his lips. I felt his hot skin beneath my fingertips and shook my head. “Don’t say that stuff so loud.”

He shook my hand off and furrowed his brow. “Look, I know I said I’d let you do what you want, but I’m starting to feel like a pawn here.”

I smirked. “Not a good feeling, huh?” I asked.

His brows raised and he opened his mouth to protest, but could only manage a sigh. Some of his anger left on his breath and he lifted his head with a softer expression. He pushed his hair from his forehead and averted his eyes.

“You’re right,” he said, then set his lips thin. “Sorry for getting out of line.”

I wrung my hands, suddenly overcome with guilt over such a sad face, and sighed. “It’s not, by the way,” I began, looking at the ground. “Our relationship isn’t just a way to get revenge.”

He was quiet, soft, and almost frightened, he reached out and took my hand, lacing our fingers. “I’m really sorry for getting so annoyed. I just…I dunno, I guess this is what I’m like when I like someone.”

I met his eyes. “Obnoxious?” I asked, raising my brows.

He flushed and glanced away. “Um…I meant jealous, but…”

I chuckled and smoothed my thumb against the top of his hand. “It’s fine,” I said, then sighed. “I mean, it’s not. Being jealous in a relationship isn’t healthy. But…I guess I was pretty jealous too when I saw you with that girl.”

He stiffened. “Wait, did you just imply that we’re in a relationship?”

I swallowed hard. “Oh, uh, no. When did I do that?” I asked, scratching my arm with a laugh. “Ah, anyway! I was at Taehyung’s, but it wasn’t anything like you’re thinking. He’s just having a hard time since he went public. He really valued his anonymity, so…”

Jungkook furrowed his brow, adopted a pensive look, and took my other hand. “You’re avoiding the question.”

I blinked up at him, unable to look away from the warmth of his deep brown eyes. Since when were they so tender? His eyes scanned my face, hopping around from feature to feature, and there was something hidden in his gaze that made me blush. Was he always so intense?

Had he always looked at me like I was a piece of art?

“Y/N, are we in a relationship right now?” he asked softly, lips plush and beckoning.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and dropped my gaze to my shoes. “I mean, technically yes. You’re in some sort of relationship with every person you meet-,”

“Y/N…”

I sighed. “I…I don’t think I can give you that, Jungkook,” I said at last after some moments of silence. “The kind of relationship you want…I’m not sure I’m ready for that right now.”

“But later?” he asked.

My whole face was burning hot, the skin he touched with his fingers stinging like fire. I inhaled, but all I smelled was his sweet cologne. “L-Later…,” I said, voice weak, with a single nod.

He exhaled, almost like relief, and nodded his head. “Okay,” he said with a laugh. “I can work with later.”

I met his eyes again and found him staring right into mine, gentle and soft, gazing at me with nothing but admiration. “Are you sure? Don’t you want someone who can give you now?”

He smiled and shook his head, leaning down close to me. So close I could feel his breath tickling my cheek. “I want you.”

My whole body was alight with energy, my nerves jittering, my pulse racing, my heart beating like a jackhammer in my ears. “Ah…,” I breathed, and perhaps I thought that was a sentence but it wasn’t.

He leaned just a little bit closer. “Is…is this alright?” he asked, eyes still locked on mine as his fingers locked on the tops of my hands, a loose tether. I swallowed my uncertainty and nodded my head. “Okay,” he said softly.

He tipped his head just slightly, just enough to let our lips brush. It might have ended there, chaste, had I not inched up on my toes to keep him close. His lips were pillowy soft, moving slowly and without urgency, but carrying a hot passion that I recognized from that night at my dad’s house. Slowly, his arms snaked around my waist and mine around his neck. Our bodies were flush, and as he tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss I let him, holding onto him just as tightly as he held onto me.