#seems like a strange place to put it but thanks for being patient w me if ur still here. i appreciate it more than u know

[matchabot]

here comes trouble

[kimvvantae]

puzzle; 8 (FINAL)

➜  you and jungkook are best friends of a lifetime, even though your personalities are like unmatching pieces of a puzzle. the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed between you two - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

genre: smut, angst, comedy; friends with benefits au; college au

warnings: lots of swearing, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex

rating: 18+

word count: 16k

A/N: finally the last chapter! i am actually feeling very emotional right now. i enjoyed writing puzzle so much and it received so much love since the beginning! your feedback always kept me motivated to write. thank you so much to everyone that followed these two dorks and waited patiently for every update. i hope we can meet again in future works! 

hmmm, a little rec?? but i listened to sweet night by taehyung as i wrote this chapter. maybe listening to it will enhance your experience too!

enjoy!

➜  Chapters: check up masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

You don’t know how long it has been until Taehyung finds you.

It’s cold. The tears have finally come to a halt, but you’re still sobbing and sniffling. You should probably get up and go home. It’s late. Not safe to be alone on the street like this. You should probably call an uber or something. 

Yet, every time you think of Jungkook’s tears, it seems that your own eyes well up with tears all over again.

What makes you snap back into reality is the sound of shoes walking down the stairs.

You get up in a jump, feeling your legs ache in the process, and turn around to see the person you least expected to see right now. Taehyung stops some steps ahead. The light pole behind him marks his silhouette with a halo.

“I finally found you,” he says after a few seconds. He sounds hesitant but somehow relieved. 

It makes your heart clench even more.

You make an immense effort to speak, as if words ran over inside your throat and made it stuck. Well, they did, in a sense.

“Taehyung, w-what…?” is all you can stutter. You don’t really need to finish the sentence. What are you doing here? Why did you come after me even though I hurt you?

He looks down and caresses the back of his neck. You notice that he’s nervously fiddling with his car keys on the other hand. Oh. He probably didn’t want to be around you, either.

“Well, you ran away down the street like that. I got worried.”

You shouldn’t.

“It’s… not safe to be by yourself on the street like this. I’m taking you home.”

Please, don’t be kind to me. 

It will be much harder if you’re being kind to me.

“Taehyung, I…” you feel yourself squeezing your purse against you, just as nervous as he is. You don’t want to bother him with your presence anymore. “I was about to call an uber. You don’t need to…”

“It’s alright. I’m already here anyway.” He starts to walk up the stairs again without looking back. Without giving you a chance to disagree. “Let’s go.”

It seems that your legs forgot how to walk as you watch him. You don’t want to get inside his car. You don’t want to face him, not right now. 

When Taehyung reaches the top of the stair alley, he finally looks back at you in silence. 

That’s when you realize that you have to face him. You were never one to run away from the consequences of your actions.

The newest consequence is staring back at you in quiet sadness.

You inhale deeply before going after him.

An awful silence hovers in the air during the entire ride home.

You can’t help but shrink on the passenger’s seat, hugging your own arms tight, your head leaning on the window. Taehyung does not make any attempt to engage a conversation. His presence is suffocating.

Something cold sets in your stomach when he parks the car in front of your apartment’s building. There’s nothing out there to distract you anymore. Nowhere else to run to.

You inhale again.

“Thank you.” you say softly. 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything as he rests his hands on his lap. You watch him intently as he gulps, his eyes glued in something ahead.

“So.” He starts, his voice as low as yours. This is painful. It was never your intention to put him in that situation, never. “I don’t want to take a drunk man seriously.”

It’s your turn to gulp. You really really don’t want to explain everything to him in detail. “Mike is a son of a bitch. He got it all wrong.”

“It seems that he got one thing right, though. Judging by Jungkook’s reaction.”

It’s getting difficult to breathe again.

Taehyung turns his head slowly to look at you.

“Are you guys…?”

You honestly feel like jumping out the window, but your feelings for Taehyung make you stay still. He’s a kind friend. He deserves to hear it clearly.

So you take a deep breath before speaking.

“Jungkook and I, we… we were never a real thing. Not really.” It hurts to say this out loud. It seems that you can still hear his broken voice…

There was never anything real happening, right? We were never real.

“B-But recently I realized that I have feelings for him.”

Taehyung nods slowly and sinks on the driver's seat. He rests his chin on his hand, letting a shaky deep breath out.

“Why did you call me today, then?”

“To tell you the truth.”

He gasps softly and shakes his head again. Taehyung has completely broken eye contact with you and his body language looks protective - building an almost visible wall between you and him in seconds.

“Wow. It seems that I was the one who got it all wrong.”

You feel like touching him to give him even a little bit of comfort, yet you know that you’re his main discomfort in the moment. You turn your body in his direction, pleading.

“Taehyung, it wasn’t meant to happen this way. I didn’t want to hurt you, not at all. I know that an apology won't be enough...”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He cuts you. His voice sounds strange, so different from how he has ever talked to you. He’s very quiet, but you can feel the anger and hurt lying underneath. “We never had anything anyway. I was the delusional one here.”

No, not again. You don’t think you can take more guilt for one night. You didn’t just delude him going on that date; you deluded him every time you talked, every time you texted each other. Taehyung saw something more when there was nothing at all - he felt something more, and you were too confused with your own feelings for Jungkook to notice what you were doing.

“Taehyung…”

“I’m feeling very ashamed right now.” He admits with a shaky exhale. “Could you…?”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but you know very well what he meant. Leave.

You nod and open the door into the cold night. You still stand there on the sidewalk hesitantly for a few seconds before whispering a shy “I’m sorry”. Taehyung doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look your way.

When you shut the door, you know very well that from now on, your friendship with Taehyung is also shut. 

You’ll miss him really bad.

It feels like you can barely carry the weight of your own body as you slowly make your way to your apartment - which is weird, because you feel empty right now. 

Your apartment isn’t as empty as you expected when you open the door, though. Seulgi is standing on the kitchen counter and she smiles wide when she sees you. She looks excited in a way she hasn’t been in months; it seems that she’s about to say something.

Her smile dies as she sees your puffy face and your red nose and eyes. 

“Y/N, what happened…?”

For some reason, when you look at her, you start crying again.

Seulgi wides her eyes and runs to where you’re standing, shocked and confused - probably because you have never cried in front of her yet. Never. 

“Oh my God, Y/N! What happened?!”

You can’t answer because the sobs won’t let you. You can just rest your face on Seulgi’s shoulder as she hugs you, patting your back. She is so confused that she can’t really think of anything else to do.

After a few minutes of restless crying, Seulgi manages to lead you to sit on the couch and runs back to the kitchen to take a glass of water. She sits by your side and hands you the glass, caressing your hair sweetly.

“Can you talk now, babe? What happened?” She asks again quietly as you try to drink a little bit of water.

You wipe the tears away once again and sniff. This place reminds you of him way too much. It feels that he belongs here, even though it’s not his home. And maybe… maybe he won’t ever step inside, ever again.

“I-It’s J-Jungkook.” it’s hard to speak between the sobs.

“Did you guys fight?” You nod weakly. “Was it that bad?”

Yes. Yes, it was.

After months of pretending, you finally open up to Seulgi. There’s no reason to keep this from her anymore. After Mike’s scandal, that’s probably everything the whole campus will be talking about in the next few days (you saw a lot of familiar faces at the bar).

It seems that Seulgi’s eyes will pop out of her face as you speak.

She stares at you, jaw dropped in pure shock.

“You and Jungkook what?!” is the first thing she exclaims. “Since when?!”

You rest your back on the couch and gaze at the ceiling. The sobs have finally stopped, at least. “Do you remember when I broke up with Mike? When we went to that club?”

“Yes, and you spent the night out…” Seulgi trails off as realization hits her. She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “That guy you were talking about was Jungkook?!”

You just nod.

Seulgi gasps and rests her back on the couch right by your side, your arms touching. She’s speechless for a while.

“But, like… how many times?”

“I don’t know.” She gasps again.

“That many times?”

You nod. “It was almost daily at some point.”

It seems that she can’t close her jaw anymore. “Where?”

“Here. His apartment. His car.” You frown. “Sometimes a cheap hotel downtown, when you and Jimin were both home.”

Seulgi stays quiet for a little longer.

You side eye her. “You didn’t suspect?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I thought you guys were acting strange for a while now, but I never thought this was going on.” She looks back at you. “Did someone know?”

“Jimin caught us once.” you decide to omit where he caught you. It’s embarrassing to say that you fucked inside Joy’s bathroom out loud and it makes you feel even worse. “But he promised to not tell anyone."

Back to silence. You can almost hear the engines inside Seulgi’s brain trying to process everything you just told her.

“But why did you guys fight?”

You take a deep breath before telling her the rest. Taehyung, Joy, Mike, Yeri. It’s quite painful to explain, but it’s also relieving.

If you thought Seulgi looked shocked before, now it looks like she just found out that Santa is real.

She completely turns her body in your direction, eyes super wide. “Do you like Jungkook?”

You nod softly, staring at your own fingers.

“It’s more than just liking him.” You admit sheepishly.

Then she’s quiet for a long, long time. You decide to finally look up at her.

Now you’re surprised.

“Why the hell are you smiling?”

Seulgi hides her mouth with both hands - as if this wouldn’t let you see the big ass grin on her lips. “I’m sorry. It’s… it’s cute.”

“Cute?” you quirk one eyebrow. “My suffering is cute to you?”

“That’s not what I mean.” she waves her hand dismissively. “I always kind of shipped you two, okay? It’s just that you two looked really good together and you always had such good chemistry and all. But I tried to stop thinking this because, you know, I thought it was wrong to assume that a man and a woman can’t be just friends… and it never looked like you had feelings for him, not at all.”

You stare at her as if she has a second head growing now. “You shipped us?”

“You can’t judge me.”

You cross your arms and sink on the couch even more. This is kind of shocking. “You never thought I liked him?”

Seulgi shakes her head. “Never. Jungkook, though…”

You turn your head to look at her so fast that your neck almost breaks. “What about him?”

She hesitates a little bit before speaking. “Well, sometimes… sometimes I caught him looking at you in some type of way.” 

There it is again. The fast beating of your heart. It’s ridiculous that, even though you’re this miserable, you still feel this spark of happiness inside of you. 

For fuck’s sake, Y/N! I’m in love with you!

You press your lips tight in an attempt to hold back the uninvited smile. It’s not appropriate to feel happy now; it feels that you don’t even have the right to feel happy at all. But his confession is hitting you just now. Hitting you like a truck. 

God, if only you could go back in time. If only you could just make him shut the fuck up and listen to you. Why did he have to be so damn dramatic? 

I love you too, dumbass! Now stop being a cry baby and kiss me!

What if Jungkook never gives you a chance to explain yourself? He can be hard-headed when he wants to. What if Jungkook never lets you get close to him again, what if your intimacy finally dies, what if you get so distant that when you’re in the same room you can’t bear each other’s presence anymore? What if from now on, there won’t be any Jungkook to steal your fries when you’re not looking, or to let you steal his clothes even though he pretends he doesn’t know you’re taking them, or to help you understand a difficult assignment, or to annoy you because he’s bored at 4AM, or to tell you the things no one else would be brave enough to tell you or to just be there when you needed someone the most?

Your brain can’t even comprehend what life without Jungkook is.

A mix of despair and hurry makes you get up in a jump.

“I’m going to his apartment.” Your breath is irregular, adrenaline taking control of your actions. “I-I need to talk to him now.”

“Hey, hey!” Seulgi gets up in a jump and puts her hands on your shoulders, forcing you to stop. “Y/N, you’re not okay. And you said Jungkook is drunk. Do you really think you’ll manage to have a civilized conversation right now? He’s probably still angry, maybe he won’t even listen to you.”

“I don’t care. I’ll shout on his door until he listens to me.”

Seulgi holds you in place again when you try to free yourself from her grip. “This is not a good idea and you know it.” She looks at you very seriously. “Take a shower, Y/N. Go to sleep. Tomorrow you’ll both be cold-headed and able to talk.”

“B-But,” you feel the tears coming back. Fuck. You hold Seulgi’s arms weakly. “But he needs to know the truth. He needs to know I like him back.”

The black-haired girl frowns. “Like him back…?”

You nod and look down. “He… he said that he’s in love with me.”

“Really?!” Seulgi huffs and taps your forehead lightly. “Then why are you so desperate?! He loves you back, dummy!”

“But I’m scared, Seulgi.” You sniff.

She rolls her eyes and pushes you into another hug. “Everything will be okay, Y/N. There’s no need to be worried. You already know the most important. Tomorrow you go talk to him, alright?” She chuckles softly. “Never thought I’d see you acting like this.”

You sniff again. “Now you understand how it is to deal with a stupid lovesick roommate.”

“Ouch.” You notice how she pats your back a bit aggressively. “But for real, Y/N… I’ll always be thankful for what you did today to me and Irene. Even though it was none of your business. And I’ll probably beat you up if you ever intervene in my life like that again-”

“Wow, I really see how you’re thankful, Seul.” She chuckles again.

"And I'm kind of offended that you hid this from me for so long."

"We promised we wouldn't tell anyone about this!"

"Alright, alright." She sighs. “I love you so much, you crackhead. And Jungkook loves you, too. You don’t need to be sad anymore, okay? Just take a shower and go to sleep now.”

You nod weakly.

Maybe she’s right. You’ll have enough time to talk to him tomorrow.

But you don’t think you’ll get any sleep right now.

***

[you]: jungkook

[you]: can we talk?

[you]: we really really need to talk

[you]: can i go to your place?

[you]: please

[you]: i know you’re reading 

[you]: stop ignoring me

[you]: jungkook

[you]: JUNGKOOK

You sigh heavily. This is so frustrating. He didn’t even leave you on read - you’re sure he’s just reading the texts on the notifications and swiping them away. He didn’t block your number, which is a good sign, but this is already getting on your nerves. You’ve been texting since early in the morning (because you couldn’t sleep) and it’s already 5PM.

“He’s ignoring my texts.” You whine to Seulgi as you enter the living room. 

“You said he had things to do today, right? Maybe he’s actually busy.” She says as she checks her makeup on the mirror. It’s been a long time since you saw her getting all pretty like this; she did her nails, made curls on her hair, put on that green skirt she bought months ago but never wore it. This is what being happy and in love looks like. Pretty, well-dressed, nice hair, healthy skin and all.

Meanwhile, your hair looks like a bird nest, you’re wearing the ugly Naruto t-shirt you have since middle school, your entire face is swollen and you have bags under your eyes. This is also what being in love looks like, unfortunately.

“Why don’t you just go to his apartment already?”

“You told me not to do it.”

“I told you not to do it yesterday. Today he’s not drunk anymore.”

You cross your arms. “I’m… I’m still kind of nervous.”

Seulgi turns around and looks at you and quirks her eyebrow. There’s the ghost of a smirk on her lips. “I never thought I’d see you nervous because of anyone. You look like a teenager…”

"I swear to God, if you say that you think I look cute one more time I'll fucking kill you."

Seulgi laughs and runs to you again, putting her hands on your shoulders. "Y/N, do you remember how you were always telling me that I was complicating simple things?"

"Yes."

She lifts her eyebrows. "So."

You roll your eyes and huff. "But it's not that easy!"

"Now you understand how I felt, huh?" Her eyes soften again. "For real, though. If you show up at his door he won't ignore you, I'm sure. Just go."

You sigh again and nod. "You're right. Just… let me build some courage, okay?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" She looks a bit worried. "I could go out with Irene another day."

"No, no. Go on your date." You wave your hands. "I'm not gonna die. Also, your pussy must be dusty after so long-"

She smacks your shoulder a bit too strongly as you let yourself laugh for the first time today. 

When Seulgi leaves, you still stand in the middle of the living room for a good while. Like a Sim whose action has just been cancelled.

Whoever is playing you is really evil for putting all the wrong people in the wrong places past night.

You know that you’re not being rational. You should have gone to his house a long time ago… but something holds you back. Perhaps because now there’s no turning back. You know what you feel for Jungkook and you know what he feels for you - your relationship got completely out of its comfort zone, and now you can’t even pretend anymore. Things won’t ever be the same. 

Maybe Jungkook is ignoring you because he’s embarrassed of what Mike did. He basically exposed you two in front of his friends. Sure, that’s none of no one’s business, but still… Jungkook didn’t want anyone to know about it in the first place.

You stare at your phone for a good while. Your reflection on the phone’s screen stares back at you in disgust.

For the hundredth time today, you unlock it and open Jungkook’s number. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard hesitantly.

[you]: jungkook i know youre mad at me and you have all the rights to be but

You frown and delete the text. It doesn’t sound good.

[you]: can you stop being dramatic and just text me back already?

You feel tempted to send this one, but if Jungkook’s angry, this will only make the situation worse. You sigh and try again one more time

[you]: i just really want to talk. you didnt let me speak last night. i know youre probably busy but please. i wont take much of your time

This one sounds about right. You tap the send button.

Then, your fingers mindlessly type one more text. It makes your heart beat fast just looking at it.

[you]: i love you too

You want to send this one so bad.

But you don’t.

Because this isn’t something to be told by text.

Coward! the angry voice of your consciousness yells in your mind. Stop being a coward! You’re an evolved human being, not a stupid teenager! Get this ass up the couch and go meet him!

You get up in a jump.

“I’m not a coward!” you say out loud. If you weren’t this out of your mind, you would have noticed how stupid it was to scream encouraging words by yourself in the living room.

But you don’t care right now.

You don’t care that your face is all puffy and the dark circles around your eyes make you look like a raccoon. You don’t care that you’re wearing your ulgy Naruto t-shirt with old ketchup stains, and you don’t care that you’re wearing the sweatpants that fall down your butt as you walk, and you don’t care that your hair looks like a living animal.

You just straight out leave your home and march to his. Flip flops and all.

Your heart beats at a stupid race as you walk, the sun already disappearing behind the buildings. The anxious part of your brain keeps reminding you that you don’t know what to say when you meet him and you don’t know what his reaction will be, but you shut this whiny voice up. Being with Jungkook always meant that you didn’t have to think a lot in the first place. Being with him is natural, it takes no effort. When you see him you’ll know what to say. You’re sure.

Yet, you can’t help but feel more and more nervous as you enter his apartment building (you never needed to ask permission to enter). You close your hands in fists, gulp multiple times, your heartbeat sounds like drums on your ears.

Your hand hovers over the door.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself. It’s real. It’s happening. Come on. Don’t be a coward.

After taking one more deep breath, you finally knock on the door.

There’s noise inside. Steps. Fuck, you’re shaking.

You hear the sound of the door unlocking and you hold your breath ready to face him-

Jimin.

He widens his eyes and blinks.

“Oh. Hi, Jimin.” you say awkwardly. Why is he looking at you this way? “Hm, is Jungkook home?”

Jimin looks hesitant for a moment.

“No.”

It’s your turn to widen your eyes. So that’s why he isn't texting you back. This makes you a bit relieved.

“Is… is he working?” You can’t hide your disappointment.

“Not yet. He starts tomorrow.”

You put your hands on your waist and walk from side to side as Jimin just watches you in silence.

“Jimin, at what time he’ll be home tomorrow? Do you think it’ll be too late in the night? I really need to talk to him, but that fucker keeps ignoring my texts.”

You don’t like the face Jimin is making now.

You really don’t like it.

He scratches the back of his neck and frowns. “He… he didn’t tell you?”

This makes you stop.

“Tell me what?”

Jimin exhales and gulps.

“He told you that he’ll start working for Mr. Choi, right? That director.”

“Yes.” Each word of his makes you more and more worried. 

“So… this project he’s involved in…” Jimin licks his lips before continuing. “It’s overseas.”

You stare at him in silence as this information sinks in.

“Overseas?! Are you telling me he fucking left the country?!”

“Yes.”

You can’t believe what you just heard.

“B-But- yesterday Jungkook and I were planning to go out! This makes no sense!”

“Well,” Jimin looks hesitant again. “In fact, his flight is tomorrow morning, but he left earlier because we kind of had an argument.” He sends you an apologetic gaze. “He was drunk yesterday and all and I was trying to calm him down and I might have accidentally let it slip that I knew about you two, and this kinda pissed him off even more because, well, he was drunk and you know how Jungkook gets stupid when he’s drunk, so I think he left to his parent’s house and he’ll head to the airport tomo- wait, are you crying?!”

You sniff and hide your face behind your hands.

“Oh my God,” Jimin sounds confused and borderline panicked as he watches you start sobbing again. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“B-Because h-he-!” you can’t fucking speak anymore.

Jimin puts a hand on your back and guides you to sit on the couch. He brings some tissues and pats your back awkwardly as you cry and sob like stupid. 

“W-Why didn’t he tell me he was l-leaving?” you ask yourself. 

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, it’s not like he’s leaving forever. It’s just for this project. He’ll be back by the end of the week.”

“B-But he would’ve told me something so important!” You blow your nose. Jimin frowns. “I didn’t know this project was so huge! What, is it a movie or something?”

“It’s a music video.” You stare at Jimin in disbelief. “Jungkook has been around the recording studio with Namjoon and Yoongi a lot. He ended up meeting Mr. Choi, who has been directing some music videos for Big Hit Records’ artists. He liked Jungkook’s work and invited him to work as an assistant… I mean, the assistant of the assistant, as Jungkook himself said.”

You exhale, feeling your shoulders drop. “Why didn’t he tell me this?”

Jimin’s eyes soften. “Your friendship hasn’t been in the best shape these days, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

You rest your elbows on your legs and hide your face behind your hands again. You didn’t want to be crying this bad again, yet you just can’t stop. You don’t even know why you’re crying anymore. Jimin just caresses your back in silence as your sobs start quieting down.

“You were right,” you say at some point.

“What?”

“When you told me not to hurt him. I was hurting him and I didn’t even realize. I’m so stupid.”

Jimin tilts his head. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Y/N. You were both stupid.” You side eye him.

“Jungkook said that he’s in love with me.” This makes him quirk his eyebrows.

“Oh.”

“You don’t look very surprised.”

“I’m not.”

“Did… did he tell you?”

“No.”

“Was it that obvious?”

Jimin presses his lips together hesitantly. “Do you want me to comfort you or do you want me to be honest?”

“Be honest.”

“It was pretty fucking obvious that he’s in love with you. At least for me.” 

You exhale and swipe your hands over your face. “I’m so stupid!” you repeat.

“Look, Y/N, to be honest, I think Jungkook is the most stupid. He was torturing himself with this fuck buddies thing, you know? He agreed to it in the first place. Everyone knows that this type of thing shouldn’t involve feelings, but he was the one to throw himself into it while he already had feelings.”

“It’s not like he’s the only one, though.”

Jimin seems about to say something, but he stops and stares at you, jaw-dropped.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

You rest your back on the couch. “I mean that I was also stupid enough to throw myself into it while having feelings.”

He’s quiet for a few more seconds.

“Do you mean that you like him back?”

You don’t answer. 

Much like Seulgi, it looks like Jimin just discovered something world-shocking. “Since when? Have you liked him since the beginning?”

You sigh sadly.

“No, I haven’t. To me, it was just fun. Until I realized that he was getting too far from my reach and- and I realized that Jungkook has never been too far, never, and I don’t know what to do when he’s not around.” You sniff. You’re not talking to Jimin anymore at this point; you’re talking to yourself. “Y-You know, now that I think about it, I… I guess I understand why it was always so good. Not just because he fucks good or because of his big dick-”

“I don’t need to hear this, do I?” Jimin whines in disgust.

“-but because it was him.” One more tear rolls down your cheek. “It was good because it was with him.”

The way you always felt comfortable to be naked in front of him. How it was always lighthearted and fun and exciting. You had good sex with other people before, but never like this. Maybe because these other people didn’t have Jungkook’s handsome smile or because their eyes didn’t gleam with excitement the way his does or because they didn't smell like baby powder. Or maybe because it was never scary to be exposed in front of him because he already knew everything about you - there wasn’t really anything else to expose. 

Jungkook felt like home.

Now, you feel homeless.

You wipe the tears away once more and look at Jimin-

“Why are you smiling?”

Doesn’t this scene look familiar?

“I’m sorry, it’s just that- wow, I don’t even know what to say.” Jimin doesn’t even try to hide his smile. “I’ve been waiting so long for this. Like, I kind of suspected that you had feelings for him, but I couldn’t be sure because you’re a hard bitch to read. To be honest, when I saw what you two were doing I wanted to kill you because you couldn’t be this blind to not realize how he feels about you-”

“Can you stop being honest for a moment?”

“Oh.” Jimin gulps, but he can’t stop smiling. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh again and cross your arms. “What if he never lets me explain myself, Jimin?”

“Stop the drama.” Jimin’s voice hardens suddenly. “You two are very similar in this sense, you know? I’m sure that Jungkook will listen to whatever you have to say. And he’ll be away for just four days! It’s not like he’s leaving forever.”

You sit there in silence for some moments. You’re sure that if you tell that you’re scared to talk to Jungkook, he will probably beat you up. He never had that much patience.

Jimin exhales heavily and gets up. “Wait a minute.” You watch as he walks into Jungkook’s empty bedroom, frowning. He stays there for a little while. When he comes back to the living room, he stops in front of you and hands you something.

“Jungkook’s gonna kill me when he finds out, but I don’t care.” 

“What is this-?”

“Just take it already. And watch it when you’re back home. It’s so personal that I got uncomfortable the first time I watched it.”

“Then why are you giving it to me-?”

“Just fucking take it, Y/N!”

You take the small device before Jimin makes you swallow it. 

He smiles sweetly.

“Everything will be fine, okay? Don’t worry. I’m always right.”

You stare at the small black pen drive in between your fingers.

This time, you genuinely hope he’s right.

You had honestly forgotten how it feels to get drunk. 

At the same time that the dizziness feels familiar, it's also hitting you like a truck. Your friends didn't believe you when you said that you'd stop drinking, yet you've been loyal to your word. Of course, it's not like you didn't drink anything in all those months, but a single beer isn't the same as a pack of beer.

The way your body's responding to the alcohol in your system isn't right. Your stomach is already tangling around itself, you can't walk a straight line from the couch to the kitchen counter without feeling that there's holes opening on the floor, and your thoughts are more incomprehensible than usual. You'd usually not get drunk so fast - and surely not with just beer. You're the girl that was still very sober after many tequila shots that time a random date of yours was trying to get you drunk - he ended up drunk after a few shots, of course, and you left the son of a bitch alone while he vomited on himself.

Being in love sure has changed you a lot.

Look, it's not the first time you drink to forget about your problems. You've been doing that since high school and you're tired of hearing Jungkook say how this behavior is unhealthy (he's right, as usual). This time, though, you're not forgetting about your problems, you're just thinking about them more.

It doesn't help that you're listening to Seulgi's playlist on Spotify called "i miss you irene." You laughed your ass off when you found out she really made a heartbreak playlist and named it like that. "You're torturing yourself, Seulgi," you told her. I mean, why would someone sad listen to songs that will only make them more sad?

Well.

Here you are now, laying on the carpet as Spending my Time by Roxette is blasting on the speakers.

People really knew how to write heartbreak songs back in the 90s.

"Fuck you, Jungkook." you mumble, staring at the ceiling. "I'm shoving alcohol up my ass. You can't tell me what to do."

Jungkook, that fucker. Why didn’t he listen to you? Why didn’t you shut him up? If there was a way to go back in time you’d do it. You wouldn’t have kissed Taehyung, you wouldn’t let him get the wrong impression. You wouldn’t have encouraged Jungkook to be with Joy. Fuck, if you could go back in time you would have woken up that first morning in Jungkook’s bed and said that it meant a lot to sleep with him, that you were willing to not be just friends anymore.

(Of course, back then you didn’t feel that way, but you’re drunk and sad. Give yourself a break.)

Now, you can’t tell him what you feel because he’s somewhere overseas. He probably bought new clothes for such an important occasion. You imagine him being in a real set for the first time, his eyes gleaming as he watches the staff working, him trying to hold his excited smile back because he’s supposed to look professional and-

You sniff. You have a stuffy nose. Fuck.

You're so drunk that you can't really control your actions anymore. If Seulgi were here, she would probably stop you. But she's not here. She's somewhere with Irene.

So you take your phone, tap the Instagram app and start typing.

[@you]: hell o 😅😂🤣😊

[@you]: its been a log time how u doing???

[@you]: what if we meeet????

And unfortunately, she replies.

[@yerimiese]: hi 🤗

[@yerimiese]: yeah, sure!

[@yerimiese]: when can we meet?

It’s the back pain that makes you wake up the next day because you slept on the floor. You’re dizzy and confused, your poor brain trying to understand what’s happening, why you’re on the floor, why there’s so many empty beer cans around you and why your phone is flashing with notifications from last night.

When your sight finally adjusts to the light your phone screen produces, your eyes widen and you stand up in a jump, making your back ache even more.

Did you seriously DM Yeri and she seriously agreed to meet you?!

It’s currently 11:40 AM - and you agreed to meet at noon. 

You run to your bedroom so fast that it makes you dizzy and you end up hitting your hip against the doorframe and it feels like you fucking broke it. You just have time to wear the first clean clothes you see laying around, tie your hair up and run to take the first bus you see.

You could’ve just told Yeri that you weren’t going anymore, of course, even though she agreed to meet you and it would’ve been kind of rude. You know it’s going to be the most awkward moment ever to see her after so long, especially now that you have feelings for her ex. Gosh - you’re already feeling so much embarrassment that you feel like jumping out of the bus and running back home. Why the fuck do you always end up doing stupid things when you’re drunk?!

But again - it’s that same chaotic side of you that makes you stay inside the bus and meet her. This chaotic side takes a good portion of your personality, it just gets more outgoing when you’re drunk. The same chaotic side that made you start some friends with benefits bullshit with your best friend just because you liked the idea of not being caught and the same chaotic side that made you passive aggressively flirt with Taehyung when you didn’t really want anything with him-

How the fuck did your friends even stand you?!

You’re forced to stop the existential crisis when you see that you arrived at the park. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

Yeri is sitting on the bus stop. 

She looks prettier than you remember; her hair is short and blonde now, which makes her look more mature. Yeri was always one to walk around well dressed, but right now it feels almost humiliating that she's all pretty when you literally look like a scarecrow. 

She smiles awkwardly and gets up. You didn't even say anything yet and it already feels awkward.

"I’m so sorry, Yeri,” is the first thing you say as you approach each other. “Did I make you wait too long?”

“No! It’s alright. I also got a little bit late.” She says, smiling prettily. Pretty is a word that overall describes her very well. “So, how you’re doing?”

“I’m doing fine!” You’re doing anything but fine at the moment. “What about you?”

“I’m fine, too.”

Silence.

My good Lord.

You start to regret all of your life choices right here and right now. You don’t see this girl in almost a year, you’re not close anymore, you know nothing about her life. Why the fuck did you even come anyway?! The awkwardness is so big that you can almost touch it.

There’s also a small and annoying thought that grows as you watch her - a thought you try very hard to ignore, but you can’t - that this is the girl Jungkook used to fuck before he started fucking you, that he used to go down on her and that he used to be inside of her and that those pretty lips of her once were around his cock and for some reason you start getting really angry-

“Do you wanna have a drink?” Yeri suddenly says.

You blink. “Hm… it’s 12PM.”

“And?” She quirks an eyebrow.

She’s perceptive, this one. Nothing’s better to break the ice than alcohol. 

You don’t even know what you’re doing here anyway, so who cares?

“Sure. I know a bar nearby.”

Yeri slams the empty glass on the counter and stares at you, shocked.

“Mike did what?!”

You nod and swallow one more shot. Your tastebuds are so used (even calloused) from this bitter taste that you don’t even scowl as the drink slides down your throat. “Yeah. It seems that he was cheating on me for a while with that bitch. I caught them inside the lab.”

Yeri stares ahead. She looks speechless. “I will be honest… I heard that he was cheating on you, but I never thought this happened.” She shakes her head slowly. “Why the fuck were they inside a lab anyways? Are they stupid?”

“The lab was deactivated. That part of the science building was being renovated.” You sigh. Reviving those memories is kind of painful right now, especially after what Mike did to you some nights ago. Honestly, he could die and you wouldn’t care. “I was looking for him. His friends told me he went in that direction… well, kinda weird that they snitched on him like that. Maybe they really didn’t know. Anyways, I still don’t know how they got the key to the lab.”

Yeri nods. “Wow… I am really, really shocked. You guys were a pretty couple.” She gesticulates with her hand. “One more shot, please.”

“Me too, please.” You say.

The bartender looks at you two with visible worry. There’s no one else in the bar - who the fuck drinks so much this early? Wait, why is this bar even opened this early? - so he’s obviously hearing your whole conversation. You wonder what’s his opinion on your fucked up love life.

“Are you sure, girls? Shouldn’t you slow down a little bit?” He asks hesitantly.

You wave your hand dismissively. “Nah, we’re good.” You’re still not dizzy, just a little talkative. Getting drunk yesterday seemed to awaken all of your high tolerance superpowers. Pretty Yeri also isn’t one to get drunk that easily.

“We’re strong girls.” She reassures. The bartender shrugs as he prepares two more shots. “You seemed to like him a lot.” 

“I did.” You admit. 

“And he seemed to like you, too. I never expected that. Well… to be honest, Jungkook sometimes told me that he didn’t like Mike and that he was sure that he wasn’t a good guy.”

The sudden mention of his name makes you freeze. You realize that Yeri freezes, too. It seems that she’s also surprised for bringing him up like this. Yeri looks down at the new shot the bartender just placed in front of you two.

“It seems that he was right. As usual.” She finishes in a much lower voice, drinking her shot in one go.

This single sentence makes you realize that “Jungkook” is still a delicate topic for her. Of course it’d be - you don’t know much about their break up, but you sure know it was anything but friendly. Jungkook got pretty fucked up for a few weeks after their break up - and the fact that he refuses to talk about it to this day is enough of an indication.

Shit.

“Anyways, it didn’t stop there.” You decide to go back to your suffering for now, so she can get distracted. “The day before yesterday I bumped into him. He was drunk and made a scandal. Called me a bitch in front of everyone.”

Yeri gasps and looks at you wide eyed. “What? Please, tell me someone punched the fuck out of him!”

“Yeah, my friend did before I could.” You’re not telling her which friend, of course. “It was satisfying. Still made me feel really bad, though.”

“You shouldn’t. You did nothing wrong, Y/N. He’s the son of a bitch here.” Yeri reassures. 

You nod and drink. “But enough of talking about my depressing love life. What about you?”

Yeri sighs, holding the small cup with both hands. “I’m doing fine, I guess. Didn’t really get serious with anyone yet. I’m seeing a guy, though. I don’t think I like him yet, but he’s about right. Who knows?” She says, shrugging.

You nod slowly. We’re getting into dangerous waters now. “I’m glad we’re both moving on, I guess.”

Yeri goes quiet for a while.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

A deep silence settles after this. You stare at the empty cup blankly, feeling the tension building up.

"I… have to be honest." Yeri starts quietly. "It was surprising that you called me after so long." She taps her nails on the counter slowly. "And I have the feeling that you called me for a very specific reason."

You nod slowly. She's not stupid. "You're right."

Yeri hesitates for a second. "You didn't… Jungkook didn't ask you to come here to talk to me, right?"

You almost gasp. Jungkook doesn't even dream that you're with her right now. "No, no. He didn't. You know I'm kinda nosy, but I have my limits too."

Yeri quirks her eyebrows and nods. You really hope that this tiny thing you saw deep in her eyes wasn't disappointment. You really hope that deep down Yeri doesn't still like him.

"So… why did you call me, then?"

You sigh. She came all this way just to meet you, so you have to at least be honest right now.

"I was drunk yesterday when I texted you."

"Oh." Yeri widens her eyes. "I thought there was something wrong with you by the way you were texting."

You chuckle. "But… I did call you because of Jungkook, somehow." You say carefully, She stiffens. "I know it's kinda cruel to do this. If you want to simply leave or if you want to slap me, I won't judge you. But… we had a really ugly fight these days and I don't know what to do. I was hoping that maybe… maybe you could help me understand him."

Yeri goes very, very quiet after this.

"Did you guys fight because of me?" She asks after a while.

"No and yes." Yeri was one of the things that got you overthinking anyways. "I… I really need to know. Again, you don't need to tell me if you don't want to. But… why did you guys break up?"

Yeri turns her head slowly to look at you. There's something very serious and hardened on her eyes.

"He never told you." It wasn't a question. You shake your head. "Well, I figured he wouldn't." She looks back to the cup between her hands; you can see she's thinking hard. "Y/N, I always admired your friendship with him. What you have is something truly special. Maybe you won't want to know why. Maybe I don't want to tell you because I don't want to destroy your friendship."

"My relationship with Jungkook won't ever go back to what it used to be anyways. I don't care." 

Yeri looks surprised. She still hesitates for some moments - what makes your blood boil in expectation - but finally sighs and nods.

"Alright, then." She crosses her arms. "I broke up with him because of you."

You stare at her, jaw dropped.

"What? What did I do?" You ask, genuinely confused.

"You did nothing." She chuckles drily. "That's why I couldn't hate you, you know. And I tried to hate you really hard."

You don't know what to say. Some girls Jungkook had some sort of relationship with were very jealous of you, you knew, but Yeri was different. "Were you… were you jealous of me and him? But Yeri- you know we weren't like that."

This is not a lie. You weren't like that while they still dated. You were too stupidly in love with Mike to notice the person that was standing right by your side all along.

"I know." She nods. "I know you didn't. But Jungkook did."

You freeze.

"What?"

Yeri finally looks at you again - clear sadness on her eyes.

"Jungkook loves you. Not in a way a friend does."

You’re absolutely speechless.

Your heart is beating so fast that you think you’re about to faint. Your brain malfunctions and it seems that you lost the ability to speak for a few moments. This shouldn’t shock you - Jungkook confessed his feelings himself not long ago, and Jimin also said how he knew about Jungkook’s feelings - goddamn, even Seulgi noticed it a little bit. But back then? When he was still dating Yeri?

“B-But Yeri-” you hate the way you’re stuttering and you hate how Yeri is telling you something she obviously doesn’t like, but you still feel so fucking happy and fuzzy inside. “Jungkook was in love with you. I’m sure.”

“I thought so, too. And he thought he was in love with me.” Yeri stares ahead again, and in this moment you realize that yes, it still hurts her. “You know… Jungkook was too much like a dream.” She chuckles to herself, as if she can’t believe in what she’s saying. “He was perfect in every sense. His good looks, the way he was always so sweet… God, even the way he’s in bed.” Yes, he’s unbeatable in bed, you want to agree. “Too perfect to be true.”

Yeri goes quiet again for a while. She stares at the cup as if it’s showing her something important she can’t look away from.

“I started to realize why it was so perfect.” Her voice sounds painfully fragile. “He was trying too hard. Always trying his best. At first I thought that it was a good thing… We all want someone that’s always trying their best for you, right? But then… then, I started to watch how he acted when he was around you. Y-You know what’s worst in all this? It’s not like you two gave me actual reason to be jealous. You were never touchy around each other. You were even dating back then, and you two avoided going out together because Mike and Jungkook never got along well. I know it.” She sounds like she wants to cry. It makes you feel really, really bad. 

“But… fuck, it was the way Jungkook acted with you, the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that smile he just showed when you were around. With you, he wasn’t trying anything. He didn’t need to try. I saw how he was so comfortable around you and… well, I didn’t need to be a genius to understand that he was so stupidly in love with you that it got him blind.” Yeri inhales and exhales deeply. “Jungkook was too much like a dream. But everyone has to wake up sometime, and I didn’t want to be there when he woke up from his. So I left him before I could get any more hurt.”

You can just stare at her, jaw dropped, adrenaline making your breathing shaky.

“Yeri, I never… I didn’t…” you stupidly stutter.

“I know you didn’t.” She nods. “I even pitied Jungkook, you know. Because he didn’t want to see what he really felt, and because you obviously didn’t feel the same.” Yeri chuckles. “That’s why I can’t hate you. That’s also what gave me some sense of revenge. At least he’s suffering a little bit.”

You’re both very, very quiet for some time.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. She doesn’t know you’re apologizing for putting her under the torture of telling those memories that are still painful for her. You weren’t expecting that Yeri still felt so affected by her past relationship even after so long. 

“You don’t need to apologize.” She shakes her head slowly. “It wasn’t meant to be. That’s all. We would both keep suffering like that.” Yeri exhales again and looks at you. “Well… I guess I’m going now. I really hope I didn’t completely kill your relationship with him.”

She didn’t.

She quite helped to save it, actually.

Yeri takes some money from her purse and puts it over the counter, paying for her drinks. As she gets up from the stool, you say:

“Thank you for telling me, Yeri. I really wish you all the happiness you deserve.”

The blonde girl opens a small smile. You see why Jungkook fell - well, at least thought he fell - for her. Maybe Yeri doesn’t know it, but she also looks like a dream. You just hope she’ll find someone that will wake her up to see the most beautiful, warm and lovely reality.

“Thanks. See you around.”

She leaves.

You just sit there, all alone, staring at the counter.

Well- not exactly alone.

The bartender is furiously side-eyeing you.

“What?” You ask drily.

He presses his lips together. “I don’t think I should say anything…”

You tilt your head. “Go ahead. You heard everything anyway.”

The bartender stops in front of you. There’s something wise about him. That’s probably the result of hearing hundreds and hundreds of love stories every night - day, in your case.

“That dude you guys were talking about,” he says. “Your friend. You like him, right?”

You stare at him seriously. “Why would you think that?”

“Because your eyes lit up so much as she talked that I thought you were going to explode.”

Fuck. You can’t even pretend anymore. You avoid his gaze, embarrassed, and nod. “I do.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Then, and excuse my intrusive ass, what the fuck are you waiting for?” He almost looks annoyed, as if he’s having to explain something painfully obvious. “Go after him, woman!”

You stare at him. 

He’s right.

What the fuck are you waiting for?

Oh, right. You’re waiting until he comes back, because he’s fucking overseas.

It makes you so, so angry. After everything you just heard, after everything you’re feeling right now, you wanted nothing more but to run to him and make him listen to you. You want to see him, to hug him, to make him understand that he’s your most important person in the world, that you can’t see yourself in a world where he isn’t around.

But guess what - you’ll have to wait three days to meet him. 

You look so grumpy on your way back home that people deliberately avoid looking at you. Seulgi and Irene are there when you arrive; Seulgi looks worried, Irene looks confused, you just decide to say you’re alright and lock yourself inside your bedroom because you can’t physically look at a happy couple right now.

You throw yourself on the bed and scream against a pillow.

If someone told you you’d be feeling so many things when all of this started, you wouldn’t have believed. You were always someone to continuously keep the fuck it button pressed - or at least, you pretended you did. Like that, you could trick your heart into believing you weren’t hurt by some jerk who cheated on you, that you didn’t feel like a piece of shit for drowning your problems in alcohol, that you didn’t care that most of your “friends” just cared about you when it came to parties and having fun, that there was never really anyone that truly took you seriously in a relationship.

It’s really easy to pretend those things aren’t real. But it’s just like Yeri said - one moment, everyone has to wake up. To you, waking up means facing the consequences of your actions, to face your feelings.

And it really hurts right now.

It also reminds you that the person you’d usually let your guard down for was Jungkook. You were never embarrassed to be weak in front of him - and it was the other way round. You were always in tune. Always in synergy.

This makes you remember the little black pen drive laying on the nightstand.

You sit in a jump, taking your laptop and the pen drive. Just feeling the device between your fingers makes you feel nervous… that’s why you still didn’t check what’s inside of it yet. Jimin said it was something personal. You’ve been hesitating to see whatever it is.

It can’t be bad, can it?

You plug the pen drive in your laptop. 

The files tab pops up. There’s actually only one file inside the pen drive - a video. It’s called euphoria final test i swear to god. 

You chuckle. This is so Jungkook. 

Your finger still hovers over the touchpad hesitantly. It looks like one of Jungkook’s test videos - you’ve seen plenty of those. Nothing new. Nothing to be scared of. You double click. 

The video opens up and fills up the screen.

It’s a vertical video recorded on selfie mode. Jungkook is walking down the university hall; he has a playful smile on his lips. The video shows you walking by his side, a grumpy expression on your face.

You remember this. He actually posted this on his Instagram stories around one year ago. His hair was way shorter back then. Why does he still have something so silly?

“Y/N’s team lost the championship.” Jungkook says. Of course he looks happy. He roots for the rival team. “How are you feeling right now?”

“Fuck you.” Is all you say.

Jungkook laughs loudly.

Another video.

A song kicks in.

It starts with the sweet melody of a piano. You frown, not recognizing this song at all. 

Then the voice of the singer kicks in, and you feel your whole body freezing.

It’s Jungkook’s voice.

He sounds soft and angelic as you’ve always known - only this time, through professional mics and mixing. This itself is already shocking. You always felt blessed for being one of the few people to know of Jungkook’s singing ability, but this is different. He sounds like a professional singer, someone that makes a living out of it.

You remember Namjoon’s voice.

Hah, Jungkook didn’t tell you yet? He has been working with us! We’re doing a good job. He lent his voice to record some demos.

You then remember what Jungkook told you.

I… I kind of helped them write a song. I felt kind of inspired. It was just for fun, though.

Maybe I’ll let you listen to it any other day.

Is… is this the song he was talking about?

Jungkook’s sweet voice sings:

You are the sunlight that rose again in my life

A reincarnation of my childhood dreams

I don’t know what these emotions are

Am I still dreaming?

Your breathing is irregular. Your fingers are shaking slightly. 

Because as if his voice wasn’t enough to singlehandedly make you feel completely lost, the video is still passing on.

Videos of you.

You sitting on the university’s library, reading a book. You crying that time you ate tacos that were way too spicy, Jungkook’s laughter from behind his phone ringing softly over the song. You playing Just Dance with Seulgi, ridiculously trying to follow the doll’s moves on the TV. You running after Jungkook down the hall as he laughs because he stole your last cookie. You dancing around your kitchen as you prepare breakfast. You and him singing to Staying Alive that night at Burger King, both of you visibly drunk. Your shocked reaction as you watched a plot twist unfold on the TV - an anime he insisted so much for you to watch that you ended up watching.

I hear the ocean from far away

Across the dream, past the woods

I'm following this clarity

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

You remember some of those videos. He posted some of them on his Instagram or Snapchat. Some of them you sent him yourself. Some of them, though, you had no idea that existed. Videos of you doing… nothing. Scrolling down your phone. Reading a book. Watching TV. Some of them look more professional - those are from the times you accepted to be his “model” so he could test his techniques, yet he never let you see any of those videos.

Just you.

You, you, you and you.

Were you wandering around

Looking for an erased dream too?

It’s different from what destiny suggests

We share the same painful views

Won't you please stay in my dreams

Yes, both of you had erased dreams. Your erased dream was Mike. His erased dream was Yeri.

Jungkook thought that you would never be more than friends. What he felt, though, was different from what he thought destiny suggested.

The way you drifted apart from each other. The pain you went through, watching your friendship slowly die. You shared the same painful views.

You don’t know at what moment you start to cry, but now, tears are freely dripping down your cheeks.

Even if the earth crumbles

No matter who shakes this world

Don't let go of my hand

Please don’t wake me up from this dream

You remember that time you were looking at the pictures Jungkook took at a wedding, and you noticed how the groom looked at his future wife with overflowing love. You wondered to yourself if someone has ever looked - or ever would - look at you the same way.

Well, sometimes… sometimes I caught him looking at you in some type of way.

It was the way Jungkook acted with you, the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that smile he just showed when you were around. 

You’re not seeing him in this video.

Yet, it shows how Jungkook sees you. And you can’t help but think… in his eyes, you look beautiful.

He sings beautifully. Passionately.

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

Euphoria

Close the door now

When I’m with you I’m in utopia

As the song slowly ends, the screen shows a last shot from a very old video you didn’t even remember. It’s from your graduation day from high school… actually, a video your mother recorded. The difference is clear from how shaky the camera is. You can’t help but think you look too goofy in your old school uniform.

“Y/N, it’s your graduation day! Next year you’ll live by yourself in a big city!”

“Thanks God. Less bills to pay for,” you hear your father jokingly say somewhere out of sight. You roll your eyes, but still laugh.

“Thank you so much, Dad. I see how much you love me.”

“But I love you, sweetie!”

“Shut up, darling. I’m trying to do an interview.” Your mother shushes him. “So, how do you feel, Y/N?”

You look thoughtful for a moment. That stupid teenager on the screen looks so full of hopes and courage. So young, so naive. “I’m a little bit scared, but I’m excited.” You say. 

Then you smile, as if remembering something very important.

“Besides, Jungkook will live next to me, so I’ll be alright.”

The video ends.

You just sit there, sobbing uncontrollably for the next few minutes.

When you clicked that file, you never expected this.

You never expected to feel so loved with just a video.

At the same time, it makes an urge - the strongest urge you’ve ever felt in your life - flow through you. You need to tell Jungkook how wrong those lyrics are.

He doesn’t have to keep dreaming anymore. You’ve woken up from your own dream - and you’re ready to show him the real world in which you love him back, unconditionally.

Irene and Seulgi look worried as they see you marching out of your bedroom, sniffling, tears streaming down your cheeks. Before Irene can say anything, you put both hands on her shoulders and look at her seriously.

“Remember when you said you owed me one? That you’d help me with whatever I needed?”

Irene starts to look scared. “Yes.”

“Were you serious?”

“Of course!”

“Good. Then I need you to buy a flight ticket for me. Today.”

“Are you sure that’s the right hotel, Jimin?” you ask out of breath, your phone almost falling as you balance it between your ear and your shoulder, your hands busy holding your passport and flight ticket. You, Irene and Seulgi run inside the airport, looking like three crazy women in a dangerous mission - which isn’t too far from reality.

“I’m sure, Y/N!” Jimin says through the phone, starting to sound a little bit annoyed. “God, you asked me this a hundred times!”

“But I need to be sure! Can’t you ask him once again?”

“He will start to get suspicious. I already had to make up one hell of an excuse to make him tell me which room he’s in without sounding creepy.”

“Room 23, right?”

“Room 32!”

“So, is he sure that’s the right hotel?” Irene asks.

“Yes.”

She clicks something on her phone. “Good. It’s not too far from the airport. You’re lucky there was a room available!”

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?” Seulgi asks, looking borderline panicked. “You’re not going to die if you wait a few days until he comes back.”

“Yes, I am going to die if I wait any longer.”

“So dramatic.” Jimin says over the phone. You can even see him rolling his eyes.

“Shut up!”

“Why are you telling me to shut up?!” Seulgi asks, offended.

“No! I was talking to Jimin!” You finally hold the phone with your hand. “Okay, Jimin. I’m hanging up. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Don’t fucking die out there.” Jimin says, but you can hear the smile on his voice. “Good luck!”

You shove the phone inside your back pocket and turn around to look at them.

“Y/N, I don’t trust you alone in a foreign country.” Seulgi says. She does look panicked.

“I don’t trust myself either, but it’s alright.” You reassure her - but she only looks more nervous. You didn’t even bring a suitcase, choosing to just take a backpack with a few clothes and extremely necessary items. 

Irene takes something from her wallet and hands it to you. “Here’s my credit card. I will text you the password later.”

You widen your eyes. “Irene, that’s not necessary…”

She shrugs in a dismissing demeanour. “Of course it is. How will you survive out there without money?” This kinda reminds you that this is only one of her credit cards and that whatever money you spend won’t really mean much to her. Still, you take the card hesitantly, making a mental promise to not spend more than the utmost necessary. “Your room is booked. You can ask a taxi to take you directly to the hotel. There’s no way to get lost.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that…” Seulgi says under her breath.

“Seulgi, I will fucking beat you up.” 

“Sorry! I’m nervous!” She admits.

Your gaze softens. “I promise I won’t die, okay?”

She steps closer and hugs you tightly. “Be safe. Huh, you’re so stupid, but this is so romantic! It feels like I’m watching a Netflix romcom movie in real life!”

“Why do you always have to bring Netflix up?” Irene wonders under her breath. Seulgi sends her a menacing glare as she steps back again. “Anyways, if you need anything, please call us. Call us as soon as you get out of the plane. Keep us informed.”

“Okay.” You jump over to hug Irene; she gets visibly surprised, not really the type of person to appreciate a lot of physical contact. “Thank you so much, Irene! You’re saving my life!”

“The same way you saved mine.” She giggles. “Now go, unless you want to lose your flight!”

You wave them goodbye one last time before walking to the check-in area.

Yeah. You know that this is very, very stupid to do. You could wait three days. But when your impulsive, chaotic side takes control, you can’t really hold it back. That’s why you get inside the plane even though you’re really fucking scared of flights, going to a country you know absolutely nothing about. 

But it’s alright. You’ll be with Jungkook, so it’s alright. Even if he rejects you - it’s alright.

Your chaotic side says that you’ll annoy him until he at least listens to you - and this time, you don’t think your chaotic side is all that wrong.

You get lost.

Which is dumb, because there were lots of information boards around the airport. Maybe that’s why you got lost - too much information, your peanut-sized brain couldn’t process all of that. After walking around the gigantic place for a good thirty minutes, only stopping to buy something very important on a vending machine, you find the exit and the taxi area. The taxi driver sees how desperate you are and it looks like he pities you.

Irene was right; the hotel is only twenty minutes away from the airport. It’s not a super hotel, but it looks like it’s much more expensive than you’d be able to pay (you couldn’t even pay for the flight tickets anyway). 

You get more and more and more and more nervous at each passing minute. You feel like you’re about to fucking explode as the receptionist types something you can’t see. When he gives you the key card for your room, you feel goosebumps run down your spine.

It’s now.

Getting inside the elevator, you press the button to Jungkook’s floor. You don’t even want to drop your things in your own room before meeting him. You’re so nervous that, if you wait a little bit more, you’re sure that you’ll pass out.

Every step of yours on the corridor’s carpeted floor echoes in your ears. Your heart beats furiously. Your hands are trembling slightly and you feel cold in your stomach.

Room 23.

You stand in front of it, frozen.

Oh my God.

As expected, you don’t know what you’ll say when you see him. You tried to plan a speech the entire flight as a way to forget you were thousands of feet away from the ground and how fucking scared it made you, but you couldn’t think of anything.

You inhale and exhale deeply. It’s alright. It’s Jungkook who you’re talking about. You’ve always known how to act around him. Right now it’s no different.

Finally, you knock on the door.

“J-Jungkook?” You call, your voice failing slightly.

No response. 

Weird. Jimin made sure that Jungkook wouldn’t be working anymore at this hour.

“Jungkook, it’s me. Can we… can we talk, please?” You say a little bit louder, knocking on the door once more. You can't hear any noise coming from inside the room. Come on, Jungkook. You have to open the door before any security guard can drag me away from here. 

Your breathing is difficult. Your hands are trembling slightly. It feels that the floor is opening holes under your feet.

"Jungkook, I know you're mad at me. But please… please, let me at least explain myself." It's stupid how you already feel your eyes welling up with tears. Since when you became such a cry baby? Your chest tightens, hurts. "Y-You can't just leave me outside your room like this. Stop being a jerk. I need to tell you… I-I need to tell you that I lo-"

"Y/N?"

You freeze.

You turn around, looking at the exact opposite room in the hallway.

It's him.

Jungkook still holds the doorknob, indicating that he just opened it. He's barefoot, wears shorts and a long sleeved shirt, all black. His damp hair falling slightly over his eyes indicates that he probably just took a shower.

His eyes are so widened that it looks like they're about to pop out of his face.

He sincerely looks at you like you're the weirdest thing he has ever seen in his life. 

"W-What-" he stutters, looking like he can't form a coherent sentence. "What the fuck?!"

You're still frozen in place.

You turn around again, looking at the door you were knocking on.

Room 23.

You look back at Jungkook again - the sign on his door.

Room 32.

"Oh." Is all you can say.

Shame suddenly makes your shoulders weight. You really, really hope there's no one inside Room 23. 

You both stand there, staring at each other with widened eyes like two scared chipmunks. Your neck and face feels very, very hot.

Jungkook looks like he's recovering from the shock. He didn't hear anything you said, apparently. 

"W-What exactly are you doing here?" Jungkook asks, tilting his head to the side. He frowns, looking at you like you're an exotic species. 

"Oh." You repeat. Your brain is malfunctioning. You step closer, simply showing him the plastic bag you're holding. "I-I brought you this."

His eyes go from you to the plastic bag and to you again. 

"It's banana milk." You explain hurriedly. He widens his eyes slightly. "I mean- it's this country's equivalent of banana milk, I guess. It's the closest thing I could buy in the vending machine."

Jungkook raises his hand slowly and takes it. He's moving carefully, as if this exotic species can jump on him and bite him at any moment.

"Did you take a 5 hour flight just to buy me banana milk?" 

"Yes." You agree mindlessly. You feel your entire body burning now. "A-And I also came here to talk, because your dramatic ass didn't let me speak the other day."

Jungkook quirks one eyebrow and crosses his arms slowly. "Alright. I'm listening to you now."

He stares at you very seriously. 

His gaze is overwhelming. It almost feels that you're getting small under his eyes. Gosh - you've been wanting to see him for days, but right now, when he's right in front of you, you can't say a damn thing, your brain completely overheating, your braincells melting. You thought you'd know how to act when you met him - but ha, guess what? You don't.

And that motherfucker is just standing there, waiting for you to speak. Just staring at you.

You hold the doorknob in a swift moment and close the door on his face, just letting enough of it open so he can still hear you.

"What-?" He gasps from inside the room.

"Shut up, okay?! I just can't speak looking at you right now." You hold the doorknob so tightly that your knuckles get white. You hate the way your voice is trembling and you hate the way your sight can't really focus on anything around you - that's just how nervous you are.

Jungkook doesn't say anything. You feel him leaning on the other side of the door, waiting patiently.

You inhale and exhale heavily.

"You got so fucking angry at me when I said you were my best friend that night.” You start, not really knowing where you’re going with this. You don’t even know if it’s possible to convey everything you feel through words only. “But you know, it’s- it’s true. You are my best friend. But what you didn’t let me explain is that you’re not just my best friend.”

Your heartbeat thunders on your ears at each word. You can’t see Jungkook’s expression, and at the same time it helps you keep talking, it also makes you more anxious. 

“Y-You’ve been with me through everything. You were there with me when I broke my arm when we were kids, and you were there to help me when I thought I wouldn’t get into college, and you were there with me to celebrate when I got into college. It’s even embarrassing that you’ve seen all of my lowest moments.” You rest your head on the door, staring at the carpet under your feet. The first tears roll down your cheeks. “You know everything about me and sometimes I hate it. You’re like… fuck, I hate how cheesy this sounds, but you’re like a part of me. A-And you’re the best part, because- I don’t know how to explain, but you’re always the one making my average self want to be more.”

Normal you would never say something like this. You’re far from being an emotional person and you’re shit with words. But right now you’re crying and sniffling and trembling and you can’t shut your mouth anymore.

“Please, you have to believe me. I would never purposefully hurt you. Whenever I see you sad I die a little bit inside, and to know that I was the cause of your sadness is fucking killing me. It’s killing me.” You sob. “I don’t want to be the cause of your sadness ever again. I-I want to return all the good things you’ve done to me. So, please… I know I’m a pain in the ass to deal with, b-but if you’d let me be by your side… if you’d just bear me a little bit longer until I become someone that you’d want to be with-”

Jungkook opens the door. 

You hear him whispering under his breath wait, wait, wait, interrupting you. Gently, he puts his hands on your arms and pulls you inside the room, closing the door right after, so now your back is against the door - right in front of him.

He stares at you, lips parted, eyebrows slightly knitted together. He looks stunned. Very, very confused. And very hopeful.

His starry eyes are welling up with tears.

“What… what do you mean with all this?” Jungkook asks softly. He almost sounds scared. “What do you really mean?”

You stare at him in silence. His beautiful face. His beautiful self. 

You’ve never been so sure about anything in your life.

“I love you.” you confess, your voice cracking slightly. “I-I fucking love you. I’m sorry that I took so long to realize.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen.

The next thing you know is that his lips are against yours.

He drops the plastic bag full of banana milk on the floor, holding the back of your neck with one hand and pressing your body against his with the other. He tastes like toothpaste and tears; you can barely breathe, adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream, your fingers grabbing the strands of his damp hair.

When he finally lets go of your lips, you’re both out of breath and trembling.

Then, he smiles - and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

He wipes the tears away from your cheeks as his own cheeks are wet with tears. His eyes are smiling too, and you think that you want to keep that smile forever.

“Y-You have… you have no idea of how long- how long I dreamed of hearing this,” Jungkook says quietly, his voice cracking a little bit. He giggles, frowning his eyebrows slightly as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing right in front of him. “I can’t believe you took a fucking plane to bring me banana milk! How can I stay mad at you when you do this type of thing?!”

You start giggling too. His warmth, his scent of baby powder, the way his eyes are shining as much as diamonds - this is something you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t know you’d ever have.

“God- I fucking love you, too.”

Your heart feels filled.

You smash your lips on his again.

It’s desperate and intense and makes your senses completely dizzy.

You feel the backpack dropping from your shoulders right before Jungkook lifts you up as if you weigh nothing and you circle your legs around his waist. Without breaking the kiss, he carries you to where the bed is, sitting down with you on his lap. 

Adrenaline and excitement washes over your body in anticipation. It’s even familiar at this point - his gaze clouded with want, your heavy breathings, hands grabbing and caressing everywhere they can find. Jungkook moans quietly against your lips as you grip his hair tightly, humping your clothed core very slowly against his growing erection.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he whispers in that deep voice that makes goosebumps run down your skin, his lips against your neck as he kisses and sucks it. You giggle.

“We fucked just a few days ago,” you point out.

“I miss this everyday. All the time.” 

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you.

You might be shit at words, you might not know how to express yourself that well. But one thing you know better than anyone else is how to make him feel good.

So, softly, you push him back until you’re hovering above him and he’s propped up by his elbows.

You don’t say anything. You just smile and start to take his shirt off.

He doesn’t complain.

Your hands roam his exposed skin as you kiss and suck his neck gently. While your lips are still glued on his neck, one of your hands travels to caress his clothed member. Quiet moans come from the back of his throat. Slowly, you kiss your way down his chest and stomach - until you’re kneeled in front of his opened legs.

Jungkook is breathing heavily in anticipation. Maybe it’s the sole sight of you biting your bottom lip as you manage to get his member free from his boxers and shorts that makes it throb. He has to gulp when he sees you spitting on his dick, the feeling of your spit trickling down his member making goosebumps roam his skin.

You hold his member and start to bump it slowly at first - which makes waves of pure pleasure wash over Jungkook, stunning his senses. He hisses when your lips envelop the head of his cock, sucking it. His eyes are half lidded, lips slightly parted, Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. He looks so beautiful as he’s being pleasured.

You start taking more of him inside your mouth until you feel him on your throat; Jungkook moans louder. You bob your head up and down his length, taking turns between sucking and bumping his member with your hand, your spit making it easier and producing obscene sounds. Jungkook hisses and groans and moans and then he’s grabbing your hair, making you take more of him inside your mouth. You don’t complain. You just want to make him feel the best he has ever felt.

This time, though, it’s being much quieter than what it usually is. Jungkook just swears a little under his breath. No dirty talking. 

His face and neck are covered with blush, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead, his face distorted with pure pleasure. His moans are getting more constant and louder. You wouldn’t mind if he cummed in your mouth right now, but Jungkook hisses and takes his hand off your hair.

“Oh my God- stop. Stop. Come here, babe.”

You decide to just do as he said. As soon as you prop your knees on each side of him, Jungkook sits up again and starts to get rid of your clothing hurriedly - first your pants, then your coat and shirt. When he unclasps your bra, he immediately takes one of your breasts on his mouth, making you moan quietly. His hand pushes your panties to the side to meet your already wet core; you moan louder as he gently caresses it. You unconsciously start moving your hips against his hand, his movements adding more pressure over your clit, his lips still licking and sucking your breasts.

Jungkook decides this was enough to get you wetter. He pushes your panties to the side, holds both sides of your hips as you guide his member to your entrance.

Both of you moan as he enters.

You close your eyes tightly, the feeling of being stretched by him so familiar and so delicious. Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you start to guide yourself up and down on him, never breaking eye contact, watching him carefully. Every deep moan coming from him makes you shiver. The pleasure, the sound of skin hitting skin - how many times have you done it before? You don’t even remember. Yet, right now, it somehow feels fresh and new. 

Maybe it’s because there’s more in Jungkook’s eyes than just lust. Maybe it’s because you notice how he watches you with adoration. And maybe it’s because you watch him with the same intensity, the same feeling.

Jungkook grabs the skin of your hips tightly as you increase your pace. He loves your face contorted in pleasure, he loves the sight of your boobs jumping at each move, he loves to feel the soft skin of your ass on his hand. He loves it. Both of you are really sweating now. You kiss him deeply, never decreasing your pace, your tongues entangling around each other, grabbing the strands of his hair.

God, how much he loves it.

He loves it much more now, because he sees how this time, he’s not the only one feeling something beyond physical pleasure. He knows you too damn well. It’s just like that morning at your house. You’re feeling it, too. 

You love him, too.

Thinking about it makes him smile. You think it’s simultaneously the hottest and the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

Jungkook simply circles his arms around your waist and completely switches positions, throwing you on your back on the bed, which makes you giggle. He finally gets rid of your panties and hovers over you, thrusting inside of you once again.

His pace is fast and steady from the beginning. Your moans get higher and higher, louder and louder. You love how his face is so close to yours, how strongly he’s hitting you, how he tightly intertwines his fingers with yours (Jungkook really is the type to intertwine his hands when having sex!)

It’s ridiculous how you feel your eyes welling up with tears in a moment like this.

This moment… It’s not just bodies connecting - it’s souls. 

You used to think you and Jungkook didn’t match; you were opposites in many ways. Jungkook is an introvert, you are an extrovert. Jungkook prefers quiet places, you prefer parties. Jungkook works out, you’re too lazy to do so. Jungkook hates coffee. You can’t live without it.

But, it’s in this moment - when he’s inside of you, when all of your senses are stunned by pure pleasure, when everything you can smell is him and everything you can hear is the sounds of bodies against bodies and when everything you can see is his beautiful starry eyes looking right back at you - is when you realize how wrong you were all along.

You’re like two jigsaw puzzle pieces. They need to be different to match. They are different, but when you put them two together, they complete each other.

You’ve always matched.

Seulgi didn't expect to find Jungkook standing in the kitchen when she came home.

Of course - you told her that the flight back home was scheduled at night and you'd probably arrive in the morning. This shouldn't be surprising. Yet, Seulgi still widens her eyes when she sees Jeon Jungkook cooking breakfast, his hair a mess, his face slightly swollen - an indication that he just woke up - wearing shorts and a white t-shirt.

He turns around and smiles. "Oh! Y/N didn't tell me you were coming back so early." He sounds a little bit surprised.

Seulgi notices it immediately.

That smile on his face and those gleamy eyes are just shown by someone that had a long, steamy and tiring night of sex.

Sure, Seulgi knows that you and Jungkook made up - and that you've been fucking for months now - but damn, it's still shocking to see it with her own eyes, considering that you only looked like good friends.

"I didn't know I'd come back early, too." Seulgi says, sitting by the tiny kitchen counter. She was expecting to spend the weekend at Irene’s penthouse, but she had to work. This is one of the reasons why Seulgi loves Irene; Irene could just enjoy her fortune and do nothing, yet, she decides to actively work for the company. She’s admirable.

"Do you want breakfast?" He asks over his shoulder.

"Well… I already had breakfast, but this is smelling really good." She admits. Jungkook nods and proceeds to prepare one more portion. She just watches in silence as he works around the kitchen (and she's also surprised that he knows where everything is, every pot, every spoon, literally everything). He hums quietly, that tiny satisfied smile never leaving his lips. 

Seulgi thinks she has never seen him so happy.

It's kind of adorable.

"So, how was your job?" She asks.

"It was great!" Jungkook says excitedly. He chuckles. "I thought I was going to be the assistant of the assistant, but actually I was everyone's assistant. I didn't really do much, but it was great anyways. It's totally different to study about it and see how things work in real life."

Before Seulgi says anything, she sees you coming from your bedroom.

Your face is swollen and your eyes are barely opened; it seems you're not even seeing where you're going. Your hair is a complete mess. You wear one of Jungkook's shirts and Seulgi suspects you're not wearing anything under it.

She watches as you walk on a beeline straight to Jungkook and hug him from behind, burying your face on his back.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" At least that's what she thinks you said, because your voice sounds muffled.

"Because you looked so funny that I didn't want to wake you up." He says softly. Seulgi can hear his smile. "You were drooling and all. I even took some pictures."

"You didn't."

"I did." Jungkook giggles when you punch his back, but still keep your body glued on him. 

"Fuck you. What are you cooking anyways? It smells too fucking good." You mumble.

"It's my special recipe." Jungkook moves to take something on the cabinet. You go along. "I can't cook if you keep smashing me like this."

"I don't caaare."

"Since when do you like hugging so much?"

"You didn't know girlfriend Y/N. Girlfriend Y/N likes long hugs."

Jungkook chuckles again. "Nice to meet you, Girlfriend Y/N."

Seulgi just stares, jaw dropped. From all the things she thought she’d see in her life, this is the most unexpected.

This is so cheesy. So not you. Not even when you were dating Mike you were like this. 

And Jesus- she has never seen you look happy like this.

You turn your head to look at Seulgi, and she watches awkwardly as you let go of Jungkook and proceed to walk in her direction. You kind of look like a really happy zombie.

“Oh, good morning, Seul. Don’t be jealous. I love you toooo.”

And you throw your arms around her shoulders, hugging her so tightly that she almost falls from the stool.

The only person that doesn’t get shocked at your relationship is your mother.

You casually called her just to talk and gave the news. What she said?

“Well, finally.” 

Everyone else is utterly shocked.

When Hoseok saw you kissing each other goodbye the other day - it was just a peck - his eyes got so wide that it seemed they were about to pop out of his face. He stared at you and him, completely shocked, as Jimin just laughed. That was pretty much everyone’s reaction.

You and Jungkook were never the type to be too touchy. It’s still kind of awkward to hand hold in public or call each other things like babe or love. You physically cringe just thinking of calling him “babe”, honestly.

It’s weird, because you’re “officially” dating now, but your relationship isn’t all that different. All the overwhelming awkwardness between you is gone (thankfully), so now you do what you always did; you swear at each other, you have your violent ways of showing affection, he still ghosts you because he’s too busy playing whatever game. The only difference is that now you can fuck without feeling guilty (and oh boy, you’ve been fucking a lot these days) and there’s a lot of kissing. There wasn’t that much kissing back then.

You thought it was impossible, but sex is even better now. It’s more exciting and even funnier - especially because there’s no awkwardness weighting in the room after you both reach your climaxes. Instead, there’s giggles and hugs and soft kisses. You also sleep at each other’s places now, which is good.

To be honest, if you think really hard about it, you’ve been lowkey dating for years. It’s just that now, you fuck a lot. 

When you tell him this, Jungkook just chuckles. You don’t think he’s really listening to what you’re saying, though - nor you’re thinking straight anymore. You went out with your friends at a karaoke and, as expected, ended up drinking way too much; you and Seulgi had a singing competition in which none of you won (Irene just sat there looking absolutely embarrassed), Jimin sang a little bit but disappeared at some point (Jungkook said he noticed some hot guy in the side room), Hoseok got so emotional singing Haru Haru by BigBang that he started crying as Seokjin laughed so hard he almost choked, and Jungkook didn’t sing at all (because everybody knew he’s actually good at it and he would humiliate everyone else), until Jungkook silently asked if you wanted to leave (and you did) and you two left before anyone could notice (they were too drunk to notice anyway).

Since he’s drinking, you took a bus. The wrong bus. You’re at the other side of the city now, sitting on the bench of a park, watching the sun rise. It sounds romantic, but really, everything you see is heavy traffic and the grey pollution line in the horizon, almost blocking the sun.

Not that you care.

“We did everything backwards.” Jungkook says, his voice low and a little bit husky. His eyes look heavy because of the alcohol. You love how his hair is tied in a tiny ponytail. “People usually are friends first, then go out on dates, then they fuck.”

“We jumped straight to the fun part!” You say as if it’s obvious. He giggles again. 

Peaceful silence. Jungkook watches your intertwined hands sitting on his lap, a small smile on his face. You can see that, even though he’s right by your side, his mind must be far, far away. He’s clearly sleepy. It’s silly - you know this guy almost your entire life, you already have memorized each detail about him - but you can’t take your eyes off of him right now.

You inhale.

“You know.” You start absently. “I saw the video.”

Jungkook frowns and looks at you. “What video?”

You’re trying really hard to hold back a smile.

“I think it’s called euphoria final test I swear to God.”

His eyes widen.

“W-What? Who showed you?!” He groans. “Jimin. Oh my God- I’m gonna fucking kill him!”

You start laughing as you see blush creeping on his cheeks and ears. He hides his face behind his hands and moans painfully.

“Why are you so embarrassed?” You ask, endeared, trying to get his hands off from his face, but he won’t let you.

“You weren’t supposed to watch that! It’s- it wasn’t- ugh!”

“But the song is beautiful, Kook!” You try, still laughing.

“Yeah, the song is alright, but the video?”

“What’s wrong with the video?”

He finally side eyes you for a few seconds. The blush on his cheeks gets redder. He hides his face again, groaning.

“You weren’t supposed to find out about that. Shit, I can’t look at you anymore. I wanna fucking die.”

“Stop being so dramatic!” After a lot of effort, you finally manage to cup his face with your hands. Still, he avoids your gaze. “Hey, hey. Look at me!”

He does.

He looks sheepish and it’s adorable.

“I loved it. Every second of it. You’re so damn talented.”

“B-But I didn’t write the song alone… Namjoon takes most of the credits with the lyrics. I just helped a little bit. A-And you know, it was just for fun, it’s not an official demo or anything-”

He’s forced to shut up when you peck his lips.

“I love you.”

He knits his eyebrows a little bit.

“You like to say this a lot.” He notices quietly. “I didn’t know you were this type of person.”

“I’m not.” You agree. “But it’s because it’s you.”

You’ve been “officially” dating for, what, almost two weeks now? People usually don’t say “I love you” this early. But this isn’t the beginning for you two. It’s more like a progression. It feels natural, like it has always been with him.

It feels like home.

Jungkook avoids your gaze again. The blush hasn’t gone away. “I don’t know what to do when you say things like that- why are you crying?!”

It’s Jungkook’s time to laugh at you as you try to wipe the tears away. He pulls you to rest your head on his chest, hugging you tightly.

“I am supposed to be the emotional one here, not you.” He says, still laughing.

“Shut up. I’m drunk.” 

“Yeah, sure.” His laughter slowly dies until it’s just a quiet giggle. You feel his scent, hear the beating of his heart. Jungkook kisses the top of your head gently, caressing your back. “I’m gonna be so embarrassed when I remember I said this tomorrow,” he says softly against your hair. “But I think I’ve loved you ever since that first day of school when we bumped into each other on our way.”

You bury your face on his chest even more.

Everything around you is blurred and distant. It seems that nothing really matters besides right here, right now - as if you’ve never realized what you’ve been waiting for your whole life. This moment.

Him.

The puzzle is finally complete.

[mc-lukanette]

Now that Wishmaker is out, how would you rewrite that chaos? The Lukanette need is strong.

"Did anyone else see me?" Marinette asked, her hands shaking as she put on the mask she'd made with her newly-given knitting powers. They were sitting down in a shadowed alley, free from anyone's curious eyes.

"No," Viperion replied, his voice breathless from the revelations he was having rather than the fly to their hiding spot. "Just...just me." He glanced down at his wrist, noting the unticked snake bangle. "...I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Marinette's gaze darted over to him, then to his miraculous. A flicker of understanding passed over her expression as she whispered a small, "Oh."

Guilt tore up his stomach, even knowing deep down that it wasn't his fault - the akuma had surprised them, giving no time for him to use his power - but he'd been brought in to use Second Chance in the first place, and yet...

Marinette's hand fell upon his wrist, making him look up. She smiled at him, her eyes reassuring.

"It's okay," she said, though her voice wavered. "It was only you who saw my face, and even if you'd used Second Chance, you'd still know anyway."

He could tell that she was still processing, but let the subject go for now and smiled back. There were more important matters to attend to.

They must've been on the same wavelength too, as Marinette pulled away and sighed, thinking aloud, "I have to figure a way to be Ladybug again. The akuma could just be destroyed, but I need Miraculous Ladybug to turn everyone back to normal."

Viperion nodded, briefly giving her a once-over. Her power and wings were useful, but unfortunately didn't help them with the current situation.

It was also distractingly cute, and he couldn't fight that way.

"Wishmaker said that he wanted people to live out their childhood dream," he murmured in thought.

Marinette brought a hand to her face, pinching her cheek in contemplation. "Maybe...maybe if I live it out then, I'll change back?" She considered it a moment longer, then groaned and stood up, starting to pace around the small area they were in. "But we don't have that kind of time! Yeah, my earrings aren't here so Shadow Moth can't make a wish, and I could definitely make enough of a living with my new knitting powers, but that would take years, and—"

Suddenly, she stopped and looked over at him, catching Viperion briefly off-guard since he hadn't said anything. Her eyes scanned him up and down, mental gears turning in her head even if he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"...That's it!" she gasped, hurrying over to him. She knelt down, clasping his hand in both of hers as she rambled, "Maybe I just need to live out my dream to the fullest!"

He blinked in confusion, unsure of where she was going with this.

"Part of my dream was to eventually make a wedding dress and tuxedo for me and my future husband!" she exclaimed. "If I do that, I might turn back into Ladybug!"

"Ah—" He shut his mouth before anything else could come out. He couldn't deny that it was a solid plan, but he wanted to tread carefully given his feelings, not wanting to make her feel awkward. "That's a great idea." He tried to grin reassuringly, though it came off a little crooked. "Should I go find Adrien?"

"What?" She shook her head. "No, it has to be you!"

He gaped, his heart doing confused flips in his chest. "Why?"

"The guy I always dreamed of marrying when I was little," she began, eyes practically sparkling, "he was exactly like you!"

— — — — —

Marinette hadn't exactly caught onto what she'd said until it already left her mouth, but the way Viperion's face turned red had definitely given it away. Things had gone quiet after the fact, with him sitting a couple meters away while she knitted away at the tuxedo; the tuxedo for him.

She found herself blushing faintly at the thought and immediately forced it down, reminding herself that she didn't love Luka, but Adrien. They were made for each other, like everyone said, and she—

She closed her eyes and took in a steady breath, knowing that she was getting off track. Things were complicated enough with all her thoughts and fears about the future, especially now that Viperion knew her identity.

Though, strangely enough, she didn't feel as nervous about it as she thought she would've.

Her gaze darted over to Viperion, who was keeping lookout and patiently waiting for her to finish with her knitting. He thankfully didn't seem closed off from her at all, and it just served as a reminder as to how mature he was.

Without thinking, she found herself speaking up. "M...my parents..."

He looked over at her, his senses still apparently tuned for her despite his keeping watch. She averted her gaze to the knitting needles working their literal magic into the tuxedo.

"We saw a lot of movies where the girl gets the prince in the end, so they made sure to teach me that love wasn't about money or power or fame or anything like that." She bit her bottom lip, Adrien briefly flashing to mind. "So, I imagined me as the knitting fairy, and I'd make clothes for the whole world until I found him." She peeked up at him. "Someone who wouldn't laugh when I fell on my face. Someone who'd be there for me and think of me first. Someone who wouldn't scold me for everything I did or make me feel bad for it. Someone who'd see more than just clumsy, nervous Marinette."

As much as it hurt to admit, the description didn't fit Adrien. Unless they found each other by coincidence - something that actually happened today, oddly enough - he didn't go out of his way to spend time with her; it was her putting in the effort.

"And..." She trailed off momentarily, lost in her thoughts. "after we fell in love, I'd give up my powers and live happily ever after with him, because we didn't need powers to be happy and it wasn't my powers he fell in love with in the first place."

She'd finished the tuxedo at that point, courtesy of her knitting powers, but her hands dropped to her lap afterward, not making any further movements as her thoughts took over.

Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Viperion take a quick look outside the alley, then get up to move over to her. He sat next to her, picking up one of her hands and letting it rest in his palm.

"I think your dream is really beautiful," he told her gently.

She scoffed, blushing in embarrassment at what must've been fake praise. "Chat made fun of me wanting to be the knitting fairy."

"He was wrong," he retorted immediately. "Your dream might not be realistic, but that doesn't make it any less nice, and there's nothing wrong with dreaming of the perfect guy."

She met his gaze, the softness in them having not lessened even since their break-up, and found the strength to start working on the dress. Being with Luka - dating or otherwise - had always been so easy, excluding all the factors outside of just them being them. She could vaguely imagine her younger self clinging to Luka, claiming him as hers and insisting that he marry her when they grew up.

But things weren't that easy. Nothing was. Marinette had spent her whole life fighting for what she wanted, needing to prove herself to people in order to be accepted.

Fighting for years to smile against Chloe's bullying, because no one would do anything about it. Fighting to be acknowledged by her parents as someone who could do things and didn't need their protection. Fighting against herself to be the one who didn't make all the mistakes or have to be the one to apologize in the end.

After becoming Ladybug, her future became even cloudier and the fighting continued. Waking up in the morning was even harder thanks to late-night patrols, getting through tests seemed impossible due to having less time for studying, and even maintaining a romantic relationship carried the struggle of not being able to tell them her identity.

Marinette stared at the shimmering pink and white fabric beneath her fingertips, it shaping and forming to her will. The occasional sparkle or flash from a beam of sunlight that happened to shine through reminded her of the day at the TV station, where Luka had confessed and she could see only him for just a moment.

"I'm sorry."

Viperion hummed in confusion, raising a brow at her.

"I made everything complicated for you—us," she explained. "All the time, ever since we met. I even got you akumatized, twice."

"Twi—" He blinked rapidly, then leaned closer. His hand came in contact with her cheek as he directed her gaze back to him. "You mean Silencer? How was that your fault?"

"I challenged Bob Roth, and when he grabbed me, you got upset. It pushed you over to the edge."

"You were defending me and my music," he argued, a sternness in his tone that wasn't there before as he put his hand to his chest, "and my emotions are my own. I'm the one who gave into Hawk Moth, not you."

"But..." She sighed, conflicted. "Even later, I kept my identity from you when we were dating. I made us both miserable because of it. I was so upset that I ended up yelling at my friends and they all got akumatized, and then I went and gave my identity to Alya anyway."

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, though he quickly schooled his expression for reasons she didn't know. His gaze strayed momentarily before he looked back at her, asking, "Would you be upset at me for feeling happy for a moment, knowing that you were just as miserable as I was?"

"W-what?" She shook her head; if anything, knowing that he'd also been miserable made her happy as well, probably in the same way as it was for him. It meant that they both cared about it. "No! Not at all!"

"Then I don't blame you for your emotions either."

She pouted at him, but he merely smiled in response. She knew this wasn't a matter he was going to budge on, but it was difficult for her to understand when she was so commonly blamed for things. That was Luka though, she supposed, always forgiving and able to see through her faults.

She remembered her dream husband again and tried to act like her full focus was on the dress so as to not give her thoughts away. She'd only drawn the unnamed man once or twice, and it was just occurring to her that he had black hair and blue eyes as well. Having not understood the concept of kids looking like their parents in their own way at the time, the child version of her had thought it'd be "fair," because then their children would look like both of them no matter what. It was strange, just how much the "simple" version of her love ideals lined up with the boy sitting in front of her now, even with his temporarily green eyes.

Friendship had become something very precious to her ever since the day she'd gotten her miraculous, maybe even more than love itself. Despite the complications and their brief time dating, she was friends with Luka above all else. No matter what happened in regards to the romantic aspects of their relationship, their friendship remained unchanged, like they really would be friends even if they had the worst break-up in the history of Paris. It was comfortable, to the point where she felt embarrassed for ever avoiding him in the first place.

She was reminded yet again of another stark contrast with Adrien. She hadn't been scared of starting anything with Luka, yet Adrien was a constant cloud of dread above her head, the fear of being rejected or being made fun of holding her back from doing what she wanted.

If her child self could see her now, she'd be confused. Marinette could hear her now, asking why her love - or at least, what she believed to be love - caused her so much stress. That was never what she'd wanted; in fact, it had been the exact opposite. Crushing on Adrien had done nothing but humiliate her, the little girl inside her covering her eyes from the sight. Her time with Luka, on the other hand...

"It looks beautiful."

Marinette jerked her head up to see Viperion's approving gaze, then looked down to the wedding dress in her lap. It was finished, pink with flashes of white and blacks; exactly the kind of dress she would've wanted when she was younger, though obviously with an older touch.

"Thank you," she hurried to say when she realized that she hadn't responded to him. He chuckled in reply, though it was good-natured.

He reached for the tuxedo she'd set aside, but stopped halfway as if realizing something. He looked to her, then the dress, then back to her, asking carefully, "Do you want me to keep watch while we put these on?"

It took her a moment to realize what he meant; that he - wearing a bodysuit - could easily slip on the clothes over it, but she didn't have that sort of luxury due to her dress. She managed to summon enough of her inner Ladybug to focus on the importance of the task over the potential embarrassment, giving him an appreciative nod.

She trusted him not to look.

As she went to the darkest parts of the alley to change, Viperion heading in the opposite direction, her mind drifted back to the past again. The little journey there, even if it'd been unwilling on her part courtesy of the akuma, had been a nice change from constantly worrying over her future. As important as it was to focus on what she wanted to do and plan accordingly, the past was equally as important. It shaped her into who she was now and offered insight on herself that she couldn't have gotten otherwise.

"...Lu—I mean, Viperion?" she called just as she finished putting on the wedding dress.

"Yeah?"

She turned to face him, then giggled when noticing that he still had his back turned to her. "You can look now."

He hesitated, then slowly shifted to face her. He was mostly dressed, but was in the process of buttoning up the tuxedo, his hands fumbling with one of the buttons as he took her in.

She approached, gently brushing his hands aside as she started taking care of the few remaining buttons. Not wanting to delay talking to him like before, she figured now was the best time as any to say what was on her mind.

"I still don't know what I want for my future. I feel like a lot of doors are opening and closing every day, and whenever I want to try one, there just ends up being more doors, or it's already closed when I get there. There are too many possibilities and I keep being afraid that I'll trip on the one I really want to go to." Her gaze left the button she was holding so she could meet his eyes. "I just know that I really want you to be there for all of it... i-if that's what you want." Wanting to make sure instead of presuming like she tended to do, she asked cautiously, "Do you?"

His face didn't show a visible reaction, but she heard the slight sound of him swallowing, synced up with a single blink. Afterward, he absolutely beamed at her, the smile more blinding than the light being cast against his back.

"I do," he replied,

In time with his words, the final button was slipped into place. Marinette felt a warm sensation run through her body, starting from her feet and then making her shudder as it moved its way up to her head. Her body was turning white, just as before when Wishmaker first shot her, though Viperion's tuxedo had joined as well.

There was a flash between them, and she found herself back as normal, wingless Marinette when it faded.

Viperion, now lacking what she'd made for him, still looked just as happy to see her.

"I-I did it!" she gasped, genuinely surprised that it worked. "We did it!"

She threw her hands up in the air in celebration, but snapped back to reality as she remembered that she still needed to turn back into Ladybug and take care of Wishmaker. She opened her purse, easing as she saw Tikki already munching away on a macaron.

"Marinette?"

She looked back up at Viperion, noticing that he still had something to say. "Yes?"

"I might not be able to make enough sense of your inner music to tell you what you'll want, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. I know that whatever you decide to do is going to be as extraordinary as you are."

She stifled a squeak, blushing at the sudden compliment and thankful that Tikki was still chewing the last bits of the macaron. "A-ah, thank you. You too—with the extraordinary thing, not your inner music, because I can't hear that even though I'm sure it's really amazing!"

Had it been anyone else, she might've prayed for a hole to swallow her, but it was impossible to feel weird when he smiled at her the way he did.

Once Tikki had gotten her fill, Marinette transformed and they began to leave the alley together, though Ladybug stopped partway as she remembered something; something she'd done many times before and felt it time to get back to doing.

Viperion raised a brow at her sudden stopping, then stiffened when she leaned towards him and kissed his cheek. She flashed him a smile, noting silently that she missed these little exchanges between them, then leaped away to head back to where Wishmaker was likely to be. Viperion followed suit, but a split second behind his usual speed.

She was sure he'd be smiling back if she looked, but she didn't have to; they were connected, maybe not by some sort of magic thread or cosmic force, but by them and the relationship she hoped that they would continue to build in the future.

And whenever they got back to the fight, just in time to see Chat Noir allow himself to be hit by Wishmaker's attack, a few more doors would close and her future would start to look a little different than what she'd considered that morning.

Not necessarily in a bad way either.

[volleychumps]

Can I request a scenario with Kuroo, Bokuto, and Kageyama where their s/o is getting harassed by some creep but when their s/o stands up for herself, they're thinking " oh thank god I don't need to kill anyone". BUT when the creep lays a hand on her, all bets are off and they just punch the dude in the face!Cause there's jealousy and then there's pure protective rage!!!

S/O Who is Getting Harassed w/ Kuroo, Bokuto, and Kageyama 

Warnings: cursing, mild nsfw themes

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

Kuroo

“Kitten, I’m waiting~” 

“Keep it in your pants for a second, will you?” You laugh, your shoulder supporting your cellular device as you hold it up to your ear, shuffling around in your bag to find your wallet with your occupied hands. “I still cannot believe you put me in charge of ice cream duty.” 

“It was to prove that me calling you up in the middle of the night means cuddles and anime!”

“So not a dick appointment?” You joke as your finished getting rung out, the woman behind the counter giving you a strange look as you flinch at the fact that you had actually said that in front of another person as Kuroo’s laughter is heard audibly at the other end of the call. Bowing deeply in apology, you rush out of the convenience store as you breathe in the air of the late-night soothingly to calm your embarrassment. 

“I’m gonna come to meet you halfway, alright kitty?” 

“In your car?” 

“No, in a fucking spaceship. Yes, in my car.” 

You roll your eyes, a smile still on your face as you begin your trek in the desired direction as your sassy boyfriend seemed to be getting impatient. 

“I can just skip and not meet you for this appointment you know-” 

“It’s nOT A-” 

You hum in satisfaction as you end the call, walking along the street in search of Kuroo’s vehicle when an instant feeling of being watched sends a shiver down your back. Your hands straighten your clothes as you glance behind you, unsurprised yet uneasy at the sight of a man seeming to stare you down, eyes raking shamelessly upon your figure. 

Kuroo’s brows furrow as soon as he turns the corner, not having parked far as he sees you looking behind you worriedly, seeming to engage in a uneasy conversation with the stranger before you. 

The greasy grin on said stranger’s face had Kuroo’s feet moving before he could think, but the captain stills when he sees you scoff, crossing your arms heatedly at whatever he had said. Now within a hearing range, Kuroo smirks as he leans against the wall as you tell the creep off, hands finding home in the pockets of his red jacket. 

“Can you maybe go crawl back into whatever dump you and your nasty-ass teeth came from?” 

Kuroo’s grin only widens as you roll your eyes and walk past him seeming to be fearless, even shoving your shoulder against his in the process as Kuroo goes to call out to you to enforce the leave of that creep immediately- 

“You bitch!” 

but red flooded his vision as soon as a hand was lain on your bare shoulder, spinning you around roughly as an audible squeak of fear and surprise slips your lips, reeling his arm back- 

And then Kuroo’s feet were really moving. 

Kuroo shoved the guy off you with a snarl on his features, eyes spinning dangerously as your boyfriend delivers a sharp knee to his stomach, sending your attacker to the ground in less than a minute. The smile that spread on Kuroo’s lips was anything but kind as he lifted the now fearful man up a few inches by the shirt, mock-kindness in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, care to repeat that for me again?” The polite words held such a menacing edge as Kuroo grit his teeth, feeling you place a hand on his back soothingly. 

“Kuroo, let’s go.” 

“No. Someone’s gotta teach this prick what happens when people lay their hands on my girl.” Kuroo lets go of his shirt, grinning when he hits his head on the street before lifting him back up again, ignoring his groan of pain. “And that someone’s gonna be me.” 

“Tetsurou.” 

Kuroo groans at your strict tone as if you had interrupted his playtime, fist unclenching around the stranger’s shirt as he makes a hasty escape, tripping himself over in the process before dashing away. 

“Look at me listening to you, princess.” 

Kuroo’s eyes held a pissed-off edge to them as he takes a strand of your hair, running his fingers through it before kissing the strand with closed eyes. Your mouth goes dry when his cat-like eyes open again, staring at you as if you were his favorite posession before cupping your face, leaning closer with a grin that wasn’t happy. 

“Just how tight do you have me wrapped around your little finger?” 

You clear your throat, shifting in place as the moon seems to illuminate Kuroo’s stare, feeling his eyes bore into you as the strand slips from his fingers, his breath beginning to mix with your own.

“Tight enough, apparently.” 

“Just... come cuddle and watch anime with me?” 

“Yeah, we’ll have our appointment, whatever- but kiss me first.” 

And so he did, anger fading away in the movement of his lips against yours, draining away completely when he feels your smile against his.  

Even if it wasn’t an appointment. 

Bokuto

“Bo, I’ll be fine, I promise!” 

“Do you pinky promise?” 

“I- there’s like a 7% chance something will happen to me in the five minutes you’re gone.” 

“That’s 6.9% too much.” 

“Bo, I’m hungry.” You whine, grinning as you win the argument that was hardly an argument, seeing Bokuto’s eyes widen a little in worry before puffing his cheeks out, spinning on his heel in the direction of your desired food stand. 

“You win this one!” 

“I usually do!” You call back, shaking your head at Bokuto’s protective tendencies. A rare off day the two of your shared had wound the two of you at the mall, a day’s worth of shopping sitting at your feet as your golden-eyed boyfriend bought you lunch from the food court. You hummed, scrolling on your phone as you patiently waited until the sound of someone clearing their throat caused you to lift your head. 

Well, looks like you’re going to need to recalculate that percentage. 

“Someone as pretty as you should never be sitting alone in a place like this, hm?” 

“I’m not alone, though!” You chirp fakely, unknowingly causing the boy to press on, taking the seat that was reserved for your spiker boyfriend as you blanch. 

“Nice excuse, sweetheart- but that won’t work on me.” 

You clench your jaw, praying Bokuto wouldn’t return just yet and throw a fit you knew he was bound to throw as you offer a strained smile at the smirking boy. 

“I’m actually waiting for somebody-” 

“I don’t see them, though?” 

Bokuto stills, hands tightening around the tray holding your food subconciously at the scene before him, scenarios drifting through his head on what approach would make you the least mad at him. Cursing him out? Perhaps spiking the lunch tray at his head? That is, until- 

“Do you not understand what waiting means, or does nothing occupy that space between your ears?” 

“Feisty.” 

“Grow the hell up.” You plaster a smile as you flick him off, crossing one leg over the other for effect, causing your pursuer to rise to his feet in a now ticked-off manner as Bokuto grins, eyebrows raising in surprise. 

The grin fades as the asshole uses his thumb and forefinger to pinch your cheeks together harshly, the uncomfort apparent on your expression as you glare heatedly up at him, a crowd beginning to form. 

“Pretty girl with a dirty mouth, huh? That can be arranged-” 

A tap on the shoulder. 

“Do you know what else can be arranged?” 

“Who the hell-” 

He never gets to finish his sentence as Bokuto grabs him by the shoulder, ripping him off you and reeling his own arm back before delivering a punch so hard to the guy’s jaw you swear you could hear a few cracks. The crowd was definitely beginning to get bigger as Bokuto pays no mind, cracking his knuckles as the guy who put his hands on you looks up into the golden eyes of a pissed-off ace, the grin on Bokuto’s face borderline deadly as gold begins to darken. 

“Who am I?” A humorless chuckle that could have been almost considered kind. Bokuto tilts his head innocently as he ignores the bruising on his knuckles, leaning down to ask an equally innocent question. 

“Take a fucking guess.” 

You gasp at the headbutt delivered next, causing your pursuer to groan and fall backwards, Bokuto unfazed before realizing you were now holding him back before grabbing your hand, collecting your bags and your food in a hurry as he tugs you along, ignoring the flash of the cameras and gasps of the crowd. You have to hold him back from turning around for more in your effort to leave. 

“Just one more punch-” 

“Trust me, that was plenty.” 

It isn’t until you reach the parking lot when Bokuto finally stops, holding your hand so tightly it almost feels icy numb, not knowing what to say as his golden eyes turn to you, as if he was trying to hold his anger back. You hear him drop all the bags he’s holding as you hug him quickly, burying your face in his chest as the ace immediately relaxes. 

“God, stop being so pretty.” He finally mumbles into your hair, and you let out a laugh of relief as he calms down. 

“Right. So maybe not 7%-” 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes, Bo?” 

“Never leave my sight, please?” Your heartstrings tug at the crack in his voice, now determined to prevent his emo mode on your day off. 

“That’s a lot to promise.” You find yourself whispering back, pulling back a little to cup his face gently as Bokuto’s forehead touches yours. “But I’m so thankful you showed up when you did. You know what I can promise, though?” 

You smile at Bokuto’s head tilt, feeling the ace impatiently trace his lips along your neck as you giggle, feeling the atmosphere lighten as Bokuto pouts when you pull back with a question- 

“Car sex?” 

Bokuto’s pout is replaced with an excited grin, for this boy worships your body 10000%. 

“I thought you’d never ask, baby! Get in for the ride of your life!!” 

“Just because I feel bad for your bruised knuckles- I’ll let that pun slide.” 

Bokuto smirks as he kisses your forehead, winking at you through the window after closing the car door for you as the day’s events already begin to fade- 

being replaced with something much more important. 

Kageyama 

“...you sure you’re okay?” 

“Of course I’m okay! Why wouldn’t I be? I’m dandy.” Kageyama snaps, causing Hinata to back off with both arms raised in the air as a sign of meaning no harm. The blue-eyed boy grits his teeth from his spot on the sidelines of the court, pissed that the game was starting and he had no way of defending you from the creep sitting by you in the stands. 

Kageyama relaxes a little when he sees you switch seats with an offering Kenma, thankful for his fellow setter for once as his blue eyes meet your bright ones. 

The tension in his face and body drains at your smile, mouthing an I’m okay, do your best! as Kageyama returns his focus to the match just as it starts. Knowing he can’t lose concentration, especially when you’re watching, is hard- considering you were wearing his jersey number and the shortest skirt he had ever seen on you- a promise for something special you had mentioned if he won today’s match. 

He had a little bit of a clue what that could be. 

The match went smoothly with your genius-setter boyfriend playing at his top-game for a reason no one would ever pinpoint as you can’t help but giggle from the secret behind his determination today. 

What you were wearing was for him, but a certain someone didn’t seem to understand that. 

Kenma cast you a worried glance as he raises from his seat as he looks amongst the filled seats, trying to find one for you to sit in as he has to go start to warm up. 

“Y/N-san, what if you go to the other side?” 

“I’ll be fine, Kenma!” You assure him, ignoring the smirk of the guy who had previously started to talk you up. “I’ll probably go stand at the railing.” 

“Mm. That’s probably best- stay safe.” Kenma nods, sparing a warning glance to the scum next to him as if to enunciate his point before taking his leave as you walk up to the railing that was mostly unoccupied. You cheer for Kageyama as he scores quick after quick, thinking you were now in a safe manner. 

But you weren’t. 

Kageyama tilts his bottle upside down to drink down the liquid as soon as the match’s victors are declared Karasuno, the raven-haired boy wiping his mouth as he scans the crowds for you and your expected cheering form for his win, but what he saw had the setter moving quickly despite the ache in his legs. His teammates look on in worry before realizing the situation from a distance. 

“Please leave me alone, sir, I came for one of the players today-” 

“Why have one of these boys when you can have a real man?” 

Kageyama jogs into hearing distance- stopping at the rare, cold edge your tone took on before starting again. 

“Did you not hear what the hell I said, or are you hard of hearing you old geezer?” You keep your smile on, failing to notice the familiar raven-haired boy beginning to deadass climb the railing. “And real men leave girls alone when they ask.” 

“Come on, play nice~” 

You barely have time to flinch when his hand goes up your skirt, and it’s suddenly gone as soon as it does. 

Kageyama was surprisingly calm as he pins the man to the railing, blue eyes spinning with an emotion you had hardly seen before as he holds both hands behind the guy’s back, using his other hand to bow his head down to the ground. 

“Just where the hell do you think you’re touching?” Kageyama seethes as you smile at his sweaty appearance, seeing the man struggle as the rest of the Karasuno team jogs up to the stands as a commotion begins to break out, Suga asking if you’re okay as Daichi and Asahi both take the pervert from Kageyama before the setter can do something rash- 

“Oh, before you take him-” 

You flinch when Kageyama reels his fist back to clock him right in the nose, gasps filling the stands as Kageyama wipes the blood off his knuckles with the end of his jersey, whistling lowly at the cuts on his fist. 

“Alright. You can take him now.” 

Kageyama ignores the scold of his captain as he grabs you by the forearm, tugging you away as you wave a hasty goodbye to Suga as you follow him all the way into the empty hall, spinning you around so he can hold your wrists together with one hand.

“I’m really, really pissed.” Kageyama whispers, blue eyes hardened as you swallow when your back touches the wall, your eyes darting everywhere but on him. “Do you mind?” 

“D-Do I mind what?” You stutter when the setter’s lips touch your neck, sending chills down your spine when he speaks against it, his own hand sliding up your thigh. 

“Use my anger in the little reward you promised me?” 

You laugh out loud, taking a handful of his raven hair before tugging it back with a smile on your features, kissing him sweetly with other intentions. 

“Get me alone first, dummy. Good job on winning!” 

“And-” Kageyama’s voice drops an octave, uncaring of anyone entering the hall as his other hand slides up under his jersey that was adorning your body. 

“I want to cover anything that bastard might have left on you.” 

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

General works: @takemetovalhalla @savemesteeb @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @yams046

[taichoushadow]

Make love to me - Taehyung imagine (M)

A/N: Hallo lieverds. It’s been awhile since I posted something. It’s been a tough year since last summer and everything just changed after I to had to let go of my dog Brammetje after a sick bed. In the end you find out,already do knowing how much you love that little soul and that he held you together and kept you sane. Knowing that it will break your heart when you kiss his little nose one last time as he crosses the rainbow bridge.

but I hope with writing again I’ll find myself a little more and more. It’s thanks to @taeandpuppies​ patience and understanding that I managed to write something and so this one has been dedicated to her.  This doesn’t mean my requests are open yet, as I only get to write when my mind allows it to. 

This contains love, kissing, making out, oral and sex. 

Enjoy ~

‘‘Y/N?’‘ 

You just hummed, putting the last laundry away after you folded them, thinking back to the delicious dinner Taehyung made you, surprising you full out not thinking he would make your favourite stew. Then again, Taehyung was always full of suprises. 

‘‘Y/N?’‘ He tried again, this time bumping his hips against your side making sure he got your attention.

‘‘Do you want to make love?’‘ 

This had your attention immediately, wipping your head to the side to look him in the face and what you saw was blinking eyes, arms wrapped over his chest as he seemed to patiently wait for your answer.  You blinked too, not finding words as you didnt really know what to answer because well you were sure you both knew the answer to that. ‘’Um, well yeah?’’ 

Taehyung huffed and dropped his arms at his side and shook his head with a chuckle. ‘’Ah. that doesnt really sound convincing.’’ and put his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. ‘’I was just thinking about it. You sit down and I will clean it up here.’’ he mumbled against your lips as he placed a quick kiss on them and you felt his warmth dissapear. This left you stuttering. Ever since he asked you that question, images automatically flooded your mind and with that you could surely feel you wanted him now. Honestly.. you always wanted him and you were pretty sure he knew that too but what just occured left you so confused that you turned around and snatched the towel of the bed, he was neatly folding and grabbed onto both his arms. 

‘‘Hey! I was folding that baby!’‘ Taehyung whined, a pout sitting on his lips. ‘‘No, no. Ask me again.’‘

‘‘Ask what again, babe?’‘ 

‘‘You know..’‘ you trailed off, ears slowly blossoming red. ‘‘The making love..’‘

Taehyung clicked his tongue and nodded and raised an eyebrow in amusement. His hand settled down into your hair, curling a strand around his finger ‘’Let me reprase it, if that’s okay with you?’’ without one breath you exhaled out a yes, feeling his biceps move under your arm. ‘’

‘‘What do you think about when you think of me making love to you? What do you want me to do to you? Tell me.’‘ 

This time, your breath hitched in your throat and unknowingly stepped closer to the man infront of you, the man who now placed his free hand just above your buttcheeks, feeling yourself throbbing already. 

Eventhough your heart was raising and your whole body flushing at the idea you held eye contact with the man gazing at you intently. ��’I picture you sitting me down on the bed.’’  Taehyung hummed. ‘’And how? ‘’

‘‘W-what?’‘

‘‘How would I sit you down on the bed?’‘ Taehyung tilted his head to the side with a smug smile on his face. ‘’Show me.’’

You looked at him, he looked back and maybe it was the way he was looking at you. As if he knew you wouldn’t do it, would only stutter however he should have known you were someone that liked to prove people wrong and so you fingers clamped onto the waistband of his shorts, bringing him in closer.  ‘’You know..’’ you began, grabbing his chin between your fingers. ‘’I will show you.’’

Letting go of his waistband, you tapped his lips and pushed against his shoulder gently to sit him down on the edge of the bed, followed by you wrapping your arms around his neck and your waist beside his hips, wandering your hands through his hair, ‘’Like this.’’  your voice was low, holding eye contact. 

The lighting in the bathroom set up a romantic vibe, the soft orange glowing in the corner near the window as you could see the leaves moving on the ryhtym of the rain as you felt his lips on your neck, placing open mouthed kisses. 

‘‘As always, you taste delicious. ‘‘ Taehyung grinned when you pulled him back, the kisses getting you going a little too fast. You huffed at that with a smile, grasping onto his cheeks and capturing his lips. A passionate kiss was shared, your legs trembling around his waist as you slowly grinded down onto him while you moaned into his mouth and Taehyung answered with a low groan. 

‘‘W-wait.’‘ He stuttered when you pressed yourself onto him more and more causing Taehyung to almost fall down on the bed. Also what you intended but he stopped you by pressing a hand against your chest. Tilting your head to the side in confusion you sat more up right not being able to hold back a pout while trying to catch your breath, both of you were. 

‘‘y/n..’‘ A chuckle was heard through the room, pulling you back into his embrace. ‘‘Don’t pout on me. I just want to take it slow, thats all.’‘ and comforted you by running his hands up and down your back. You answered him back by burying your face in the croock of his neck, lips puckering against his skin. 

The dark felt somehow strangely private, not as scary as you always thought it was while gazing out the window again taking in the feel of the man holding you. You always felt safe whenever you were with him, feeling like no harm could come to you. ‘’Hands up.’’ came his words and you did what he asked you. Sitting more upright again, you held your arms high so he could take off your shirt, pecking your lips once it was off and flung it somewhere in the room. 

This time his hands traveled towards your chest, his eyes zero’ing in on your purple bra, laces of flowers embracing your beautiful curves. To him, you were magical, to him you were not human but someone from outer space. The cute childlike eyes that he always gazed in especially when they changed to a more mischevious look had him twitching in his sweatpants. The combination of those two.. 

‘‘Tae.’‘ You whined, your hands searching for his and once you felt his fingers tracing the lace of your bra, you grasped onto them moving them towards the clasp of your bra. ‘‘Please.’‘ His fingers ghosted over your skin and you shivered yet Taehyung let out a small chuckle thinking how you most likely forgot what he told you mere minutes ago but he decided not to say anything and unclasped the purple bra. Sighing out in relief when you felt the bra loosen, you kissed his cheek, his eyelid back to his nose and to his lips. Taehyung however slowly removed the bra straps down your arm while basking in your kisses. 

Once the bra too was somewhere thrown in the room, he didnt hesitate a moment to cup your breasts into his palms, gently kneeding the flesh, listening attently to your breathing how it picked up, how you dropped your head onto his shoulder, your hands clutching his shirt and thats when you breathed out ‘’W-why are you still wearing a shirt.. It has to go.’’  His breath hitched when you pushed up the hem of his black shirt, black fabric make the golden skin even more bronze. Your fingertips grazed his nipples and his breath hitched again, more noticable this time. The loss of his fingers playing with your own nipples as he had to lift up his arms in order to take his shirt off caused to better thinking and you knew what you wanted to do next. 

Slipping off his thighs you crouched down, grasping his knees as you crawled between them when he spread and tugged at the waisband of his black boxers. Taehyung lifted his hips helpfully, his body seeming to move on auto pilot. You slid your fingers up his thighs once his boxers were off, eyes zooming on his cock that stood proudly up against his abdomen, waiting to be touched. The further you got to his inner thigh, the more harder he became. So far for wanting to go slow, his body clearly told him something else. 

You liked the way he started to leak more pre cum once you grasped him into your palm, his hips jerking forwards, a silent ‘fuck’ leaving his mouth. He watched you, eyes fully focused on your hand. Thumb rubbing slowly over the tip the way you knew he liked very much so, Taehyung threw his head back with his eyes shut, fisting the sheets.

You didnt waste any moment and leaned down to take his cock into your mouth, further down your throat, tongue circeling around his grith while your hand pumped what you couldnt reach with your mouth. Hearing his gasp, your own heat started to throb more and more, begging for some relief as you felt your own panties dampening by the second but right now it was pleasuring your man who’s chest heaved up and down faster by the second, his fingers searching for something to hold onto, you knew he liked to have his hands in your hair but he didnt want to hurt you so he desperately searched and you knew the sheets weren’t enough so you slipped up the bed, eyes watching his face, searching for his hand and when you felt his fingers you turned his hand around and interwined your fingers together, letting him tug. His lower lip was caught between his teeth and when his eyes met yours a muscle in his jaw jumped. 

You knew he was close, tasting more and more precum on your tongue. You were never really fond of swallowing cum or tasting for that matter however that was until Taehyung entered your life, his moans of your name when you didnt stop blowing him when he was about to come and feeling his cock twitch in your mouth was something incredibly hot to you and so you bobbed your head up and down in a slow rythym, focusing on making him cum. 

Taehyung’s eyes were shut again, mouth fallen open and his eyes shut, lashes fluttering, his head lulling from side to side. ‘’I’m so close.’’ it seemed his whisper into the dark room, your glasped hands he brought up to his mouth and grazed his teeth onto your skin. With one last tug on his cock as you swallowed around him he gasped loudly this time biting down as he came down your throat. 

You felt his thighs trembling, as you swallowed as much as you could, your free hand caressing the trembling limp and let his member fall out of your mouth once you felt him soften his hips jerking away from overstimulation. 

Climbing on the bed, throwing your legs around his waist, your stroked his cheek, smiling down when you noticed his content smile on his face. His eyes fluttered open, kissing your intertwined hands especially on the bite marks he left but you didnt mind, it didnt hurt however Taehyung didnt seem to take his time, his mouth instantly on yours, letting your hand fall to your side as he cupped the back of your head. 

Lips were growing more pliant, ravishing your mouth slowly, tenderly, angling your head to the side as you licked his lips, Taehyung answered within a heartbeat and let your tongue press into his mouth with a growl. You didnt know how long you two kissed but once he pulled away, leaving you to whine and chase after his lips you saw how red his were, wet, slick and swollen. 

You also noticed how he was pressing against your clothed core and you slowly rocked into his lap needing to feel some friction yet Taehyung wasnt having any of it and rolled you over to the matress, him hovering over you with a smirk. 

This time it was you that your breath got stuck in your throat, your dark orbs looking into his own while his fingers wandered down from your neck, down the valley of your breast, circling your belly button to the hem of your panties. ‘’You know.’’ He began, his voice an octave lower, bending his head down until it was right beside your ear ‘’I can smell you from here.’’ 

You whimpered, thighs rubbing together ‘’And you smell devine.’’ He took in a deep breath, lips finding its place on your neck while he dipped into your purple panties that were just damp from your arousal and you couldnt help but blush once you heard the obvious sounds of how wet you were when he touched your slit. ‘’Oh my.. I knew you were wet but this wet..’’ Taehyung chuckled lowly, kissing down your neck, pressing his tongue just below your ear. 

‘‘Taehyung..’‘ Your voice trembled, wrapping your fingers around his wrist pressing his hand against your core. ‘‘What do you want me to do. How do you want me to make love to you, y/n?’‘ He lifted his head up, other hand once again settling down ontop of your left breast as his gaze focused on you. 

This man was way too gorgeous for his own good, just looking at his face, his red lips, dilated pupils and messy hair had you throbbing and you knew Taehyung definitely felt that one, him not hesitating to sink in one digit down your heat, and slowly moved his wrist, slipping in and out of you before he followed with one finger more. Your walls clenched around his finger, legs kicking up while you bit your lip trying not to cry out. ‘’Tell me, y/n. Please.’’ 

Face hot, abdomen muscles clenching, fingers digging into his arms you moan his name loud and clear when he begs you to say something, needs to hear you say it before he starts what he craves. He is a little impatient, he knows that but he promised to himself to go slow and so eventhough he begs you, he waits while slowly pumping his fingers into you, his thumb rubbing softly your clit. 

‘‘I..’‘ You start, closing your eyes shut, rolling your neck from side to side as your  legs tremble. ‘‘Yes.. say it, let me know.’‘ Taehyung cups your chin, tapping your lips as he slides in his thumb, pressing down on your tongue before sliding out. 

‘‘I want.. ‘‘

‘‘Yes.’‘

‘‘Your mouth.’‘ 

‘‘Where, sweetheart. Where do you want my mouth?’‘ 

‘‘Taehyung, please.’‘ Taehyung nudges your throat with his nose, sliding his fingers out as he traces his path downward with his lips until he is face to face with your clothed core and he cant help himself but to take a whiff. ‘‘Devine.’‘ he mumbles more to himself before he hooks his fingers into the waistband and slide them down your hips, while grazing the bare skin of your inner thighs with his knuckles. 

Spreading your legs fare enough to lay between them, he winks up to you and bite his lips with a teasing eyebrow raised and laps up your arousal from your slit. This has your tighs immediately closing around his head but he tuts against your core, hands finding its home on your thighs as he holds them. ‘’Let me make you feel good. ‘’ The vibration of his voice causes your hips to stutter, butt lifting from the matress, almost grinding against his lips. ‘’It’s okay. I’ve got you.’’

Teeth find your bundle of nerves, and rolls them between them, tongue carefully flicking against it, his grip on your legs thightening when he feels them tremble. He sucks, lips covering your mound as he crawl closer to let go of your thighs to settle them on your buttcheeks and lift them up from the matress now being able to suck you a little more deeper. 

He notices how his fingers are close enough to your lowerlips to spread them open and he does, sinking his tongue down into your heat and you let out a scream, hips bucking into him, legs shaking in the air. 

‘‘Taehyung.’‘ You stutter, gripping the pillow behind you as you feel your release building up, your body feels hot, too hot. Your cheeks burn from pleasure, your mouth falling open as you feel how he never stop pleasuring you, his nose rubbing your clit, tongue licking your inner walls and with one last stutter of your hips, you cum. You feel your body tensing before it lets go completely and you find Taehyung’s bicep. 

He laps you up, licking up your arousal with a grin on his face and crawls towards you, letting his body rest ontop of yours. ‘’How was that?’’ 

You just watch him with a tired but satisfied smile on your face. ‘’As usual. That was amazing.’’ you manage to get out and cant help but to giggle as his grin grows wider. ‘’I love you.’’ Taehyung mutters, wiping the hair that sticks to your skin from your forehead and leans up to peck your lips. While he leans up to kiss you, you both moan as you feel his hardness press against your core. 

He looks at you, licks your lips and both close your eyes as you open up for him, this time its his tongue that kisses yours, grinding his cock against your slick heat. Moans tumble out and he does not wait, his hands lay flat against your slick heat, moving up and down until he grips his hard cock and pumps it a few times making sure your arousal lays on his member as lube and guides himself towards you core. Once he feels the tip slipping past your lower lips, he lets go, settling his hand down beside you and he moves his hips forward, falling deeper and deeper into your heat until his hips meet yours.  

Your own arms lay around his neck while he taps your thigh and you wrap your legs around his waist and apparently that movement has him sinking in that one last inch, now being fully settled in. 

He buries his face in the croock of your neck and slowly pulls his hips back to only move it tenderly slow forward again. ‘’You feel out of this world.’’ Taehyung’s own voice trembles, fingers touching the back of your neck featherlight. He strokes your scar, rocking his hips slowly into you, grunting out your name over and over. The sensation of his cock tickling down your walls, his fingers caressing your scar as he keeps his eyes on you once he takes one sharp thrust where you dig your fingers into his shoulderblades. ‘’Look at me. Look at me when I make love to you. Does it feel good?’’

‘‘Yes! It feels so so good!’‘ Your tongue doesnt hesitate to let those words fall from your mouth while trying to remain eye contact with your boyfriend. 

‘‘It feels too good. Taehyung, please.’‘ You cry out, tears pooling in your eyes from all the pleasure you’re feeling. His rocks his hips a little faster, in and out of you, taking bliss into the wet sounds he hears from your arousal. He feels how your arousal drips down his member and he breaks the eye contact for his own pleasure as he sits back and lift you up, you’re now seated in his lap, his arms caging you against him. 

The way he sits still in your heat, has you clenching around him your body asking for his thrusts and his body instantely responses, bucking his hips up into you and Taehyung throws his head back in pleasure, a loud grunt bouncing off the walls and you are following suit with a whimper slipping past. 

‘‘You gotta help me, princess.’‘ His jaw clenches as he grabs your waist and begins to buck up his hips, hitting your spot over and over again and sink down onto him when he thrusts up. 

‘‘Yes, just like that beautiful. Just like that.’‘ 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and fight against falling over, feeling no strength at all but Taehyung has a tight grip onto you, and you see how his eyes are focused on how his cock slips in and out your heat while he bites his lip, a layer of sweat both coating your bodies. 

‘‘Taehyung..’‘ 

He hums. 

‘‘Taehyung.. ‘‘ You try again, desperately fighting against your orgasm as you only want to let go when you have his eyes locked on you. And he doesnt make it any easier when he starts to rub your clit soothingly, never stopping the ryhtym of his hips until you start to clench harder down on him and he knows, he knows and snaps his face up to you when he hears his name loud and clear. 

Your expressions tells him everything, the way your eyebrows are scrunched together, your mouth falling open while deseperately gazing into his warm eyes has his own hips stuttering. ‘’I know. I got you, babe.’’

And you do, your vision blurs. sounds fade away as you let go, release bursting through your body, your walls clamping down on his cock in a tight grip and you drool, you cant help but drool when your release feels like an enternity and Taehyung.. Taehyung cries out a loud loud moan and you collapse against him with a tired laugh, not believing how good you are feeling. He catches you and lays you down on your back and he follows, resting his body ontop of yours as he takes a few minutes to come down from his high. One hand plays with his hair, other hand strokes up and down his back while placing pecks all over his face. 

‘‘I love you too, Tae. More than I ever can explain.’‘

resting his cheek against your belly, you catch a content smile on his face.  He is silent, wanting to bask in your warmth before he slides out of your heat and rolls off of you and lays down beside you. ‘’Hmm. I wouldn’t know what to do without you. You are literally my home.’’ and with that he plants a loving wet kiss against your lips, and cages you into his arms, your back to his stomach. 

‘‘Should we shower?’‘ You ask after a few minutes. 

‘‘Yes, yes we should.’‘ 

Yet the two of you dont move, enjoying the peaceful stillness of the night while listening how your hearts slowly beat to a softer pace.  

[teiasviago]

Signs

Episode: “Je Souhaite” | Rated M | @today-in-fic | Warning: if any of the symptoms of pregnancy are squicky for you, it would be best to avoid this fic. Also, a reminder that we use Fahrenheit in the U.S., so don’t freak out at the wonky temperature stuff, my Celsius loaves.

Scully feels a little guilty for sending Mulder home last night after teasing him all day about what she was going to do to him in bed, but she blames her upset stomach on being “forced” to skip lunch that day. Scully had waved him off after three hours of on and off vomiting, feeling like she sent the entirety of her pizza and soda into the toilet.

She’d sent him back to his apartment so he’d stop hovering, his incessant chatter only magnifying the headache beginning to build at the base of her skull.

Mulder had called as soon as he got home, leaving a voicemail for her to please not come in tomorrow if she’s still sick. Well, Scully had fortunately felt right as rain when she woke up, aside from the minimal gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She regrets eating two bagels with lox and her real cream cheese now. This must be her punishment for breaking the rule of saving it for the fair amount of bad mornings she encounters. Her stomach’s mutinying again at the smell of Mulder’s black coffee and she can feel another toilet session coming on.

“Oh, God,” Scully whispers, all intent to apologize and press a soft kiss to his lips going out the proverbial door as she sprints out the real one and hauls ass to the bathroom.

She must have a stomach bug, Scully reasons, trying to even out her breathing as she folds some paper towels and wets them before pressing them against her face and neck. She’s suddenly feeling strangely hot, evidence of her sick flushed away.

Mulder knocks three times on the bathroom door. “Scully?”

“Yeah?” she sends back, splashing her face with water. She groans as she feels another gag coming on.

“I brought you some ginger ale and—and some Pepto Bismol. And Tums. I know you don’t like the Pepto but, you know, I figured this called for all the stops.”

She can imagine the look on his face as he hears her vomiting again. Scully checks her watch when it’s over. It’s still only 8:27 in the fucking morning!? How the hell is she supposed to make it through the rest of the workday like this?

The door hinges creak and she looks over at Mulder. “I told you not to come in if you’re still sick, Scully.”

“I wasn’t! I felt fine this morning, and then I walked in the office and smelled your coffee and...”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms, puckering his lips as part of his exaggerated thinking face. Scully stands up straight and shoots him a look. Mulder shakes his head and puts his hands up. “Look, all I’m saying is that it looks like the same thing happened last night. As soon as we got out the ice cream, you bolted to the bathroom.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “What are you getting at, Mulder?”

“Just that you should go home and at least take a nap or something. If you stay off your feet for a few hours and relax, I’ll be happy. Nibble on some crackers, catch a soap opera...” Mulder shrugs. “You’re clearly sick, Scully. If not for yourself, do it on the chance that it’s contagious.”

Scully places the wet paper towel on the back of her neck, holding it there. “Fine. But only because it might be contagious.”

“I mean—that doesn’t make it better, but thank you nonetheless. Do you want me to drive you? What if there’s a random smell that sets you off on the ride there?”

She rolls her eyes but tells him, “Fine.”

—

Mulder’s assertion that certain smells have been setting off whatever’s going on with her stomach seem to be proven true when she comes back to the office after a few hours of rest and relaxation to the harsh sight of a man whose... whose mouth suddenly disappeared and had to be surgically recreated. Not a twinge from her stomach aside from shock butterflies.

Scully’s relieved that she’s been able to keep down her lunch. To be fair, it was crackers with a little cheese and a full two cups of water to make sure she was hydrated, but any food is good food. She proudly announces to Mulder during their ensuing flight the next day that it seems whatever illness hit is gone.

—

It’s not cold in Creve Coeur, Missouri—certainly not in Spring—but Scully’s feeling every degree of the breeze through the open windows like it’s in the thirties. She’s shivering the entire car ride to the Mark Twain Trailer Park, and noticeably enough for Mulder to glance at her with concern before putting up the windows and turning the heat up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

He frowns at that but lets it go until they hit a red light, when he leans over and presses his hand to her forehead.

Scully quirks her lips in a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your temperature,” he replies. “You don’t seem to have a fever...”

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she insists, leaning into his hand for the few seconds she gets the light turns green.

“Alright, but if you’re still sick, Scully, then you have to promise me that you’ll go back to the motel, okay? I brought the meds just in case, if you need them.”

She smiles softly and places her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“It’s what a good boyfriend does.”

—

Her stomach bug really does seem to be gone, which is a relief. However, she’s now insatiably hungry for two things: Mulder, and the bagels from the bagel place two streets over from her apartment. Well, she consoles, one is attainable, at least. And, boy, does she attain it. They’re both breathing heavily by the time Scully’s through with him, and even though they’re sticky with sweat, she curls her body around Mulder’s anyway.

Her breasts are tingly, which has never happened after sex before, but she chalks it up to Mulder’s harsh treatment of her only a minute ago as she nuzzles his chest. She inhales and sighs happily. “I love the way you smell,” she murmurs.

He laughs and she feels it against her cheek. “Coming from the woman who made me start using a different deodorant,” he jokes, squeezing his arm around her shoulders. “Your nipples are darker.”

“What?” Scully props herself up with her forearm to make proper eye contact as her brows furrow.

“Yeah. I don’t know. They’re darker. Feel a little heavier, too. You didn’t notice?”

She shakes her head and laughs. “Unlike you, Mulder, I don’t spend hours studying my boobs.”

He shrugs and rolls them over so he’s hovering over her on his forearms. “Your loss.”

—

“Fuck,” she swears, digging around in her suitcase, fresh from her shower. She’s only got one hand because the other’s holding her towel wrap together.

“What?” Mulder asks around his toothbrush, exiting the bathroom. His tie is slung behind his neck and his suit jacket is waiting for him on the bed.

“I don’t have any panty liners.”

“Do you want me to go out and get some?” he asks, heading back to the bathroom to spit.

“Yeah, that would be great.” Scully walks past him into the still-warm bathroom and lets the towel drop as she uses the one wrapped around her hair to dry the wet strands.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She drops the hair towel when he takes the singular step needed in the tiny motel bathroom to invade her space in favor of pulling him down for a kiss by the ends of his tie. “Mmm, settle down or the plan’ll be botched.”

“I was just thanking you,” Scully says, affecting innocence as she does his tie for him.

“For buying you panty liners? What would happen if I surprised you with some ice cream?”

“I would eat the ice cream.”

“Damn.” Mulder presses a kiss to the top of her head before heading out to put on his suit jacket. “Do you mind me asking why you need panty liners? Also! What brand?”

“Any with wings. And I need them because there’s been an unusual amount of vaginal discharge in my underwear and I don’t want to ruin any more of them.”

“Right.” He steps back in view of the bathroom and takes in her naked body.

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

(Their books on pregnancy are buried inside their storage closets from a time best forgotten.)

“Nothing. I just like looking at you.”

She smiles at him, drying her hair again. “Get going, hotshot.”

—

Halfway through the flight home, Scully discovers something that makes her a bit worried. She’s not supposed to get her period until next week, so the blood on the liner she quickly tosses away with shaky hands can’t be because of that. She tries to forget about it as she walks back to her seat next to Mulder, but he must see something on her face that prompts him to ask if she’s okay.

“I’m fine,” she lies, managing to give him a smile. “Just tired.”

He seems to accept that and leaves her be. It’s not even a lie; she feels exhausted after everything that happened over the past few days. Scully makes a mental note to book an emergency appointment with her Ob-Gyn when they land, and closes her eyes.

—

“Dana,” Dr. Namin starts, disrupting her patient’s thumb twiddling.

Scully abruptly stands up as her doctor moves to stand in front of the exam table, computer and several documents in hand. “You don’t look concerned,” she says, following Namin to the exam table.

“Because there’s nothing to be concerned about at this stage except plenty of rest, hydration, and eating at least three good meals a day,” Scully’s doctor replies, opening up her computer and spreading out the documents. “We’ve done all the tests you asked for, but nothing came up. However, based on the symptoms you listed, I performed one more, and that’s where we found the culprit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pregnant, Dana. Plain and simple. Congratulations.” Dr. Namin slides one of the documents towards Scully, who takes it. “You’re about three and a half weeks along. You can take all the papers. There’s suggestions for all the prenatal vitamins you’ll need to take and how much water to drink in a day. Resources for managing symptoms, too.”

Scully nods dumbly, tears gathering in her eyes as she stares at the diagnosis. “Um, when should I come back?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, I’ll have someone give you a call with that information. Just relax and enjoy the news. I remember how much you wanted this, Dana. I...I don’t know how this happened, but the baby’s doing well. Minor bleeding is completely normal and you don’t need to worry. If it gets worse or doesn’t stop soon, then come back.”

“Okay,” Scully chokes out, smiling widely as she wipes away her tears and collects the documents on the exam table.

—

She spends a few hours at her apartment trying to figure out how to tell Mulder the good news but gets nowhere. In the middle of pacing around her couch, one arm unconsciously wrapped around her abdomen, her phone starts ringing.

“Scully speaking.”

“Agent Scully,” Skinner starts, and she immediately knows that Mulder’s done something stupid again, “could you check on Agent Mulder? He snuck into my meeting and was yelling at my chair.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Scully hangs up the phone and sighs heavily. Looks like God’s giving her a sign to just get it over with. When she enters the office, however, the woman Mulder keeps insisting is a genie is there, too. She licks her lips nervously and tries to ignore her.

“Skinner called me, Mulder. Is everything alright?”

Sitting at the desk, computer on, she has to wonder what he’s doing. “You don’t remember disappearing off the face of the Earth for an hour this morning?”

She gives her head a small shake as she tells him, “No,” truly starting to get concerned.

Mulder just shrugs with a little smile and gets back to typing with a nonchalant, “Well, I guess everything’s okay.”

Get it out, just say it, she thinks, trying to psych herself up. She sighs. “Mul—” But the woman’s still there in the office. “Could you give us a minute, please?”

“Sure,” the woman—Jenn, Mulder told her on the plane—says with a nod.

Scully steps closer to the desk, butterflies in her stomach. Jenn isn’t moving, and it’s making her annoyed, quite frankly. “Like, today?” she says, turning around, but the black-haired woman is nowhere to be found, not even in the annex. Scully turns back to her partner, extremely confused. “Where the hell’d she go?”

Mulder childishly imitates a genie disappearing and she feels the sudden urge to laugh at the thought that this man is the father of her child. “No...” she says, softening the guffaw trying to escape to a scoff-laugh. “It’s gotta—” She scoffs for real this time. “It’s gotta be hypnotism, or—or mesmerism, or something.”

And thus begins the verbal sparring. As he lists all the things he wants for the world, Scully thinks, again, of how this is the father of her child. Something suspiciously soft is trying to emerge from her heart as she responds, and she’s a coward to boot, so she leaves without telling him. Driving back to her apartment, Scully feels guilty at how little effort she put into trying to break the news to Mulder. She just—she doesn’t know what to make of the news herself, let alone how to explain it to him.

An hour into The Exorcist, hugging a pillow as she wishes Mulder was watching it with her, the phone rings. “Scully, do you wanna come over and watch a movie? I’ve got your favorite popcorn...”

She grins. “Of course. I’ll bring the drinks.”

—

They’ve both changed their clothes for the movie night, and when Mulder opens the door, they’re sporting matching grins. “Oh, zero alcohol content?” he faux complains, taking the case of six drinks into the kitchen. “Is this your punishment for me, Scully?”

She elects not to respond as she follows him and takes out the package of popcorn and a pot. “Can you grab the olive oil, Mulder?”

“Yeah, of course.” He puts four of the drinks in the fridge before reaching into one of the cabinets to grab the oil and put it on the counter next to the stove, which Scully’s turning it on.

“I’ll never understand why you won’t just microwave them. It’s faster.”

“Yeah, but if you do it in the pot, it tastes better,” she shoots back, opening the package and pouring the kernels into the pot.

“That’s just because of the oil.”

“Well, you can continue to eat shitty popcorn for the rest of your life if you want, but I’m going to eat my good popcorn.”

They turn to face each other as the kernels pop and hit the lid, a staring contest beginning. Scully wins when she licks her lips and distracts Mulder enough to get him to blink.

“Ha! I got you! I win!”

“That’s cheating!”

“I won!” she says in a sing-song voice, emptying the finished popcorn into the bowl.

Mulder shakes his head with a smile. “Why don’t you take the drinks and get comfortable. I’ll finish the popcorn.”

Scully nods and does as he suggests, but as she’s crossing into the living room, she pauses and turns around. “No butter, please,” she says, and he turns around with a scoop of butter in a bowl in his right hand, the handle of the microwave in the other.

“No... butter...?” She nods. “We always put butter on the popcorn, Scully.”

“Well, I don’t want butter this time,” she says, and makes her way to the couch, sitting down and placing the drinks on the coffee table. She hears Mulder sigh heavily and put the bowl of butter in the fridge before making his way to the living room, bowl of popcorn in hand.

He shakes his head as he grabs the movie case from the table and inserts it into the player. “Can’t believe you don’t want butter on your popcorn. Eugh. It’s un-American.” He steps around the table and sits down next to Scully.

She takes the case from where he left it and makes a face. “Caddyshack, Mulder?” she questions.

“It’s a classic American movie,” he insists, grabbing his drink and propping his feet up.

“That’s what every guy says.” Scully grabs her own and untwists the cap, tossing it onto the table. Mulder does the same, but his bounces off onto the floor, and she laughs into the bottle. “So, uh... What’s the occasion?” she asks, as if they still take the justifying movie nights thing seriously.

Last week’s was I thought you might need some help feeding your fish.

“I don’t know. Just felt like the thing to do. Cheers.”

Maybe it is time to turn over a new leaf, especially considering the baby growing inside her, cell by cell. They clink their bottles—“Cheers,” she says—and drink. Tell him, tell him, tell hi—

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I, um, never made the world a happier place.”

They nod together and Scully knows that this is the moment to tell him. She takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m fairly happy. That’s something.” A smile slides onto her face and she looks at him, a lot more than fairly happy now. “Actually, I’m ecstatic.” She gives a little laugh and reaches into her pocket for the piece of paper she’d stared at for hours earlier.

“Really? Is there a specific reason, or...?”

Scully pulls the paper out and looks at the blue highlighted text on the portion of the paper that’s not folded back for a moment before handing it to Mulder. “That’s why,” she says, voice trembling a little out of happiness.

She watches his face as the words sink in. He reads it again, murmuring, “Diagnosis: pregnancy (3.5 weeks),” as he does so, a grin spreading across his lips. “Scully...”

“I know,” she says, setting her bottle on the table, and before Mulder can say anything else, she cups his cheeks and kisses him, unwilling to fight the urge.

“Scully, this is wonderful!” He laughs joyously and kisses her again, setting the paper and his drink on the table. “I’m so happy.” He brings her into his embrace and buries his face in her shoulder for a long moment, both of them starting to cry. He suddenly pulls away and puts his hand on her abdomen under her shirt, his other arm still wrapped around Scully.

“I love you,” she tells him.

“I love you, too,” he replies.

[themangolorian]

Pairing: Mandalorian x Reader

Request for @the1maddest1hatter my absolute love who has been so completely and totally patient with me and understanding and i’m so glad i was able to finally finish this and post it for you finally, and i hope it’s everything you were hoping for and more. thank you so much for not giving up on me - this was so fun to write and i’m glad i finally got it to somewhere i’m happy w/ it. i love you! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Warnings: some slight violence.

You weren’t often in the habit of getting yourself involved in the business of others. But when you’d seen imperial guards chasing the cloaked and armored figure across the square, you figured you had no choice.

The fleeing culprit looked more than capable of taking care of himself, but the enemy of your enemy was your friend. So, interrupting the elaborate dance you’d been performing in the middle of the market, you twirled and flipped expertly until you were between the guards and whoever it was they’d been chasing. The distraction was enough. Still dancing and trying to suppress a smile, you saw the end of the figure’s cape disappearing around a corner.

The guards cursed violently your way but shouldered their way roughly past you in pursuit of the disappearing figure. What was more, your ruse had drawn the attention of the crowd of shoppers in the square, most of whom assuredly also had no love for the Empire. Before long, the cylinder you’d put in the square was full of credits.

But then-

Someone gripped your elbow painfully from behind, someone else your shoulder. Striking out to escape, you accidentally turned over the cylinder, spilling credits everywhere.

Loud shouts, haranguing from the crowd, assaulted the imperial guards who had returned empty-handed, the figure no doubt having escaped.

“What kind of dancer do you think I am?” You lilted sarcastically with more confidence than you deserved considering you were being detained.

“Keep your conniving trap shut, scum.” The trooper at your back rammed his baton into your lower back and you could hardly suppress the yelp of pain as you crumpled.

The protests from the crowd were easily deterred when the guards drew their high powered blasters and before you knew what was happening, you were being dragged away in durasteel binders. You cursed under your breath at the imperial guard who scooped up your hard-earned, now easily lost credits.

That was when the Madalorian had swooped in and, helped by the element of surprise, along with what was clearly immense skill, had taken out the guards - freeing you.

“What are you, a trooper gone good?” You’d joked, gesturing at his armor, though you knew it bore little resemblance to a trooper’s. He’d only grunted, focusing instead on freeing you from the binders.

But inevitably the guards had been almost instantly replaced with another unit who’d wasted no time in opening fire. The Mandalorian had dragged you along by the binders you were still trapped in. He managed to dart out of the way of every blaster shot aimed your way, hauling you with him as he went.

By the time you found yourself ensconced in the safety of his ship and as he blasted away from the planet you’d briefly called your home, your heart was beating too fast and you were laughing too hard, out of both panic and glee at the escapade, to question the new reality you found yourself in: on the ship of a stranger whose face you’d yet to see.

But that had been long ago enough by now that it was but a distant if happy memory. The Mandalorian, a man you’d thought so strange at first, had offered to drop you off on any planet of your choosing. And you’d truly meant to leave, but event after event had transpired, all revolving around the Empire’s chase for the child in the Mandalorian’s care, someone you’d also found strange but had now come to care for excessively.

You’d kept putting off leaving and then one day it had just stopped coming up. Though neither of you spoke of it, it now seemed a given that you were a staple in their strange little family.

“This is a good place to set up camp for the night,” the Mandalorian was saying, pulling you out of your reverie as you stared at the suns setting distantly in the sky past the horizon of the sea spread out beneath the cliff just beyond where you stood.

You turned absently and smiled at his visor. You had yet to see his face, even now, but by now he knew just how much you loved the seas, as few of them as you’d gotten to see in your lifetime. The choice of campsite was intentional, providing you with a breathtaking view of this particular planet’s suns-set.

Your heart stiffened painfully as you smiled sweetly his way. The man you’d gotten to know had been nothing like you’d thought he would be when you first met him, as intimidating as he’d seemed. He was gentle and generous to a fault, kinder than most souls you’d ever known.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat, breaking you from your stupor once more, but when he spoke, he too sounded emotional. “I’ll build the tent. Do you want to see how many rations we have left?”

You’s meant to answer but several things happened in succession. Din flinched then unholstered his blaster faster than you could blink. For one staggering moment of horror, you thought he was aiming it at you. But then the cold bite of metal was sharp at your throat, a strong arm coming around your middle firmly before you could react to any of it. A strangled cry left Din’s helmet.

“Where’s the target?” A raspy voice hissed at your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You tried to struggle, despite the idiocy of that act. Your hands shot to the man’s wrist around your neck and you threw your body back in the hopes of escape. But he was like a brick wall and did not budge, did not even react to your attempt as if you were little more than a bug beneath his shoe. It took you a long moment to process the fact that you were in danger of losing your life.

“Let her go,” Din spoke in a cold, threatening voice, “and I’ll let you live.” The blaster in his grip did not waver.

Your blood ran cold when your captor only chuckled. “Give me the location of the child, and I promise her death will be painless.” He flicked the sharp blade at your throat and you gasped involuntarily at the pain, felt a warm trickle of blood running down your neck.

You saw Din’s grip tighten around his blaster, knew he was calculating the odds of shooting your captor without harming you. But you knew Din too well now, knew what conclusion he would reach. But if you were a lost cause, you were free to do whatever it took to ensure that Din was not. To ensure both his safety and the safety of the child.

Thoughts of the craggy, rocky surface at the bottom of the cliff just behind you nearly made you shudder; your fear of heights was almost blinding, but you fought through the distress that would have paralyzed your entire body with fear. Din and the child were, after all, more than worth it.

The standoff continued as if the world had come to a standstill though the breeze continued to blow past you, the chirping of animals continued in the jungle you’d emerged from and, distantly, the breaking of waves on the rocks below did not stop.

Just as you meant to make your move, your captor was yanking your arm back and up until- a sickly crunch sounded and you screamed in pain, trying to muffle your own hurt so Din would not be goaded, but you saw only black for several seconds and your knees almost crumpled beneath you. The slight sliver of brainpower you had left in the moment told you to propel yourself backwards. Your captor, off balance from the movement of breaking your arm, staggered back with you, now just at the edge of the cliff.

“No,” Din shouted, his voice strangled, his blaster faltering now. If he shot, he ran the risk of hitting you. And the knife was still clutched at your throat.

Your captor hissed and tightened his grip around your throat in retaliation, and you struggled to breathe for a few moments. “Move one more muscle and I’ll throw you over the ledge,” he barked at you before loosening his grip. The knife had cut into your neck again, drawing more blood.

Your eyes never left Din’s visor. You could not, of course, see his eyes behind it, but you could will your thoughts and feelings into your own gaze, directed as it was at him. In the brief second you had left, you tried to express with your eyes alone everything you’d never had the courage to tell him before.

Then- you pretended to crumple in your captor’s arms, ignoring the way the knife cut at you again in your new position. He cursed, trying to straighten you. You used the moment in which he was caught off guard to propel him backwards with all the strength you had left in your body. At the same moment, you heard the sound of a blaster.

There had been the smallest part of your brain that had been sure you might be able to catapult him off the edge without going with him. But that had been a fool’s dream.

You lost your breath as you tumbled backwards off the cliff’s edge, unable even to scream.

Your captor had already lost his grip and distantly you heard his scream behind you as he fell. Though you were falling fast to the rocky depths below, you felt suspended in the air, suspended in time, trying to cherish only the last sight you’d had of Din as he’d surged forward hoping to catch you before you fell. You closed your eyes before you hit the icy surface of the unforgiving waters below.

******

Din had seen your intent the moment it had entered your eyes and had immediately been filled with nothing but pure dread. He ran through the possibilities as quickly as he could, but it hadn’t been fast enough. He’d shot the blaster only a second too late. And though the shot had found its mark in the heart of your captor, you’d gone over the edge anyway.

Another strangled, inhuman cry left Din’s lips as he leapt forward towards the cliff’s edge. He reached the peak just as your body disappeared beneath the surface below. This time he took no time to think. He dropped his blaster and dived gracefully off the cliff’s edge, trying to use his momentum to fall into the same area of choppy water where you’d disappeared, blessedly far enough away from the rocks that would have killed you instantly.

The icy temperature of the water barely registered beyond Din’s suit as he flipped his helm’s light on. Din tried not to panic when he saw nothing but empty, rough waters. Cursing within his helmet, he propelled himself further downwards, searching desperately for the sight of you. He began to breathe unevenly as water filled his helmet and knew he would soon have to surface. He could not, he knew, surface without you and expect you to live.

That was when he saw a flash of the bright skirt you almost always wore. He could have laughed with relief that you dressed so flashily. Then he was propelling himself through the water. His heart began thundering again when he saw your face blank, your eyes closed, unconscious.

His arms came around your chest and then he was battling the rough water upwards, breaking the surface and pulling you along with him. The water immediately drained from his helmet, allowing him to breathe. The weight of his armor and the strain of holding you aloft made the journey back to the rocky surface difficult, but adrenaline at the thought of the mere possibility of losing you drove Din faster.

He pulled you along with him up onto a rock above the breaking waves. He ripped his gloves off, one hand fluttering down to check your pulse, the other at your nose to see if you were breathing. When he realized you were not, he did not hesitate-

Din wrenched off his helmet and dropped it carelessly on the rock beside him. He fought the feelings of panic wrenching through him as he leaned down, pinched your nose between his fingers and put his lips to yours. He’d dreamed so many times of your lips on his, but never like this. He cursed himself distantly for never acting on his desires before, for letting his fear dictate his feelings for you, which were clear here at the possible end of it all.

Then he was pumping his clenched hands down on the center of your chest before putting his lips back to yours, trying to breathe you back to life.

“Come on,” he was saying roughly, “come on.”

***

Suddenly, you began to cough and heave, water trickling out of your mouth; your eyes fluttered open briefly. They closed again but not before you’d seen the stranger bringing you back to life. A beautiful, chiseled face. A man with plush lips, dark stubble and a mustache. Deep soulful brown eyes.

You struggled to breathe in, struggled to hack the remaining water from your lungs as you half sat up. The stranger held his arm sturdily at your back.

“The Mandalorian,” you managed to speak through racking coughs, “is he alright? Where is he?” In your panic, you had not stopped to think who the stranger might be or how you’d arrived in his care.

The man did not respond, only clapped you on the back several times, trying to help you cough the water out.

When your eyes fluttered open again briefly, they landed on the soaking cape, hanging over the stranger’s shoulder, seemed to finally see the beskar shoulder piece. You gasped, choking briefly on the water still trapped in your throat.

“What-“ But then he was fitting the helmet swiftly back over his head. But not before you had seen the anguish in his gaze.

Immediately, you berated yourself inwardly. You should have kept your eyes closed. You should have- but you could not have known.

“Din,” you tried, but you silenced yourself, knowing he must be kicking himself.

Quiet and stoic as the day you’d met him, he lifted you into his arms, letting you hitch yours around his neck. Despite what had happened, you cherished being in his arms, curling into his chest, your head pounding from the fall, from your near death.

You were weaker than you’d realized and lost consciousness in Din’s arms again barely registering that he’d activated his jetpack.

When you awoke, you were cozy and warm and wrapped up in a swathe of blankets, your wet clothes gone. You blinked at the ship’s hull above you. You were back on the Razor Crest.

“Grogu,” you managed through your drowsiness.

“He’s alright,” Din’s voice came from the alcove just to the side of his bed, which you were now laying in.

You breathed a sigh of relief, but your breath hitched when you remembered what had occurred, what you’d seen, what Din had done.

“Din,” you breathed against your will. Likely he wanted nothing more than to be left alone, as remorseful as he no doubt was. His creed for your life? What a paltry exchange.

The thought brought tears to your eyes. As well as the thought that Din could only hate you now. How could he not?

But then he was at your side, his gloved hands hovering over you. “Are you alright?” Concern so deeply evident in his voice that it only made you want to cry harder.

“I-“ you managed, your voice choked. You grasped his hand since he held it there just at your eye level, and he sunk down to one knee, tightening his grip around your own. “Din, your creed.”

For just a single moment, he stiffened, but then took a shaking breath and relaxed. His other hand came up to stroke your forehead, then your cheek. “Don’t think about it. Just rest.” His voice was more gravelly than usual.

You swallowed through the dryness in your throat, distantly noting the bandages he must have applied to the wounds you’d sustained at the hands of your captor. Your eyes fluttered closed under his touch, worried if you kept them open, he’d leave your side. But his gloved hand continued its steady stroking of your cheek.

Tears threatened to spill from behind your closed eyes anyway. At the tenderness of it all. Of Din’s ability to forgive the unforgivable. Of what your presence in his life had caused him to forsake.

“You should have let me die,” you croaked before you could stop yourself. It was far from the right thing to say, but you meant it.

His breath hitched under his helm, and his fingers froze at your jaw, his other hand clenching yours tightly. “Don’t say that,” he muttered gruffly, his voice choked. 

Din was more emotional than you’d ever heard him, but you were sure it was because of the betrayal of his creed; you could not fathom that his grief might have anything to do with the fact that you’d almost died.

You spoke through the painful tightness in your throat. “I’m not worth it- You shouldn’t have- I’m sorry I caused this-“

You stopped talking when he released your hand to cup your whole face between both his hands. You opened your teary eyes in surprise but, of course, saw only your weepy reflection in his visor.

Din’s gloved thumb rubbed just beneath your lips. “I…I couldn’t- let you die.” The words seemed a struggle and he let them out haltingly - not as if he didn’t want to say them, but as if he didn’t know how. “I…” You heard him swallow beneath the helmet as your eyes darted all around his visor, wishing you could see his current expression, wishing you’d never seen his beautiful face at all. But then- “I care…about you…more than I can-“ He cut himself off, as if fearing he’d said too much.

You merely stared, hardly able to believe your ears. He couldn’t mean… Could he feel the same… The thought was too unbelievable to truly consider.

His grip on your face loosened. “I…” He sounded suddenly uncertain. “I understand you don’t- feel…the same. I just…”

But then you were gripping his wrist before he could withdraw his touch. You heard a sharp intake of breath beneath the helmet and realized your fingers had met the skin of his wrist. Your eyes fluttered sideways, drinking in the sight of his perfect skin, scars and all, just there beneath your fingers. When you brushed his wrist with your thumb, he let out a sigh and his hand tightened around your face. Your eyes darted to his helm then back and then you were leaning sideways and pressing your lips to his wrist.

You felt his pulse jump beneath your lips as you pressed another kiss to the inside of his wrist. When you looked back up at him, his helmet was tilted as he seemingly stared down at you.

“If-“ You licked your parched lips, swallowed with difficulty. “If I close my eyes, will you- Can I-…” You’d never found yourself, chatty as you tended to be, at such a loss for words. “Can I kiss you?” You managed. He froze and you opened your lips to take it back, terrified you’d said the worst thing you could have in the moment. But when he shifted to move, you lost your breath, wondering-

He went to take off his helmet without waiting for you to close your eyes.

“Wait,” you gasped, shutting your eyes tightly, just as you heard the whoosh of air that must have meant he’d acquiesced.

“You don’t have to-…”

And it was your turn to stiffen. The modulator had always been a given, and you’d never really thought twice about what his voice might have sounded like without the digital disruption.

It was husky and crackly, soothingly deep.

You found your breathing going shallow again when his hand, now ungloved, was back at your cheek.

“My creed,” he started, his voice rumbling somewhere deep within your chest, affecting you deeply. “My creed dictates that I- protect….my clan.”

Your breath hitched again, impossibly so.

“The promises I made when I received the helmet,” you heard a heavy thunk as he apparently put the item in question down. “There is more to my creed than just the helmet. A Mandalorian who cannot keep…his clan,” Those two words again; your stomach flipped of its own accord each time he said them, at the thought of what he might be implying. “A Mandalorian who cannot keep his clan safe…is not worthy of the helm he would wear.”

You startled when his bare finger ran across your lips soothingly.

“Grogu…” he began again, slowly, as if weighing the words. “Has seen my face. Do you know why?”

“He’s your son,” you breathed against his fingers, reveling in the way your lips brushed his fingers as you spoke.

“Yes,” his voice cracked on the syllable, but only just, and when he spoke again, he’d recovered. “My family. My clan.”

You swallowed hard again through the lump in your throat, pursing your lips to speak, to deny what you thought he might next say, not because you didn’t want it to be true, but rather because it was the only thing you wanted to be true and were too afraid that it was not to even entertain the thought. But his finger hovered just over your lips once more, silencing your attempted protest.

“You didn’t make me break my creed,” he promised. “I’ve been wanting to- I’ve wanted to see your face…for so long.”

You made a noise of protest now. “You see my face all the time.” Indignant when he got what you didn’t every single day.

“Without the helmet. Not through a visor.” His voice was heavy again, emotional.

It was not until then that you realized what he’d said. He’d wanted to see your face too. He-

“You-“

“You can open your eyes,” his voice was soothing, encouraging even.

“Are- are you sure?” You managed finally.

He let out a low chuckle that set your heart to racing faster than it did even when you were dancing nonstop in city squares. “I’m sure.” It was a promise.

You opened your eyes and your sigh was involuntary. You drank in the sight of every sharp angle and soft line of his face hungrily. His eyes were tender, but as he leaned down, there was a kind of hunger in them too.

This time, when your lips met, it was a different kind of life you felt him breathe into you. 

[bloodycassian]

“research” Rhysand x reader - reader is a Peregryn descendant from Dawn court acting as Emissary. Rhys takes reader to a museum.

Rhys’ approving stare burned into your back as you stood on the balcony, wings flared. Your Peregryn feathers were a lovely contrast to his dark Illyrian like bat wings. He often muttered his envy about them to you, especially after being intimate. He loved to stroke them and admire the softness and his muttered approvals soothed you to sleep. 

Maybe his approval was coming from the sight of your naked body in the silver moonlight. You felt a swell of heat rush to your cheeks as he approached, his wings also extended. They flared as he reached the open air on the balcony. The shimmering lights of velaris in the snow far, far below. The magic of the House retained the slight wind that blew through, but warmed it instantly. 

“Quite a fancy house for one cruel high lord. I imagine most would think that the Night Court would also be cold.” You remarked, tucking your wings in slightly so he could stand next to you. He tucked in his as well, understanding the sensitivity of such a part being touched. 

Rhysand knew how such a simple touch of a wing could be the undoing of many different feelings. From the pain of them being bent wrong, or pleasure of them being toyed with exactly right. Toying - for research he had called it. Figuring out which form of wing was more sensitive.

“Cruel or no, most of us here have spent far too much time in the cold of Illyrian mountains to settle for less. Azriel usually says if he wasn’t aligned with me, he’d move to the Summer court.” He leaned over the railing, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air. Something in his eyes gleamed, and a small smile appeared. 

“Seeing the master of Shadows in a place so bright would be quite the contrast.” You grinned, gripping the railing tight. The urge to jump off and fly was nearly overwhelming. Your wings extended, craving the cold bite of the wind. Despite being such a small heritage, your instincts were sometimes overwhelming. You felt the corners of your lips fall, the memories of your few cousins falling to enemies during the War coming back.

Rhys tucked his wings in, turning to you. Something like sadness was there in his eyes, making you nervous.  “You may leave when you wish. I only ask that you give me...a warning. So I can have a story ready for my court when you go.” He said too formally, as if he had practiced this. After the months of you visiting as a communication link with Thesan, you knew you would have to leave at some point. But you had yet to hear the order to do so. And you much preferred the scenery of Rhy’s court than the safe harbor home Thesan kept sunny constantly. It was… refreshing. Much like Rhy’s presence. 

“Are you telling me to go?” You nudged him slightly, knowing it’d rattle him. His eyes shot to you, and he nudged you back. “Never. I just… wish you could stay.”

He had more to say than that, and you knew it. “Then why ask me if I need to go?”

“Because the longer you stay the less I think I will be willing to let you go.” He wrapped his arms around you, the evidence of claim apparent through his thin cotton pants. “Even if Thesan is one of my closest allies. I may just have to keep you for myself.” His head lowered to your ear as he said it, his lips grazing your skin. You felt your core tense and heat.

“I dont know what you’re talking about. I am merely a communicator between two courts.” You grinned, nipping his ear. His low growl was anything but agreeing. His hands were on you, slowly palming your sensitive areas, lighting your insides on fire. He gave you a lingering kiss before pulling away. He eyed you suspiciously, seeming to deliberate to himself. 

Then, he snapped and suddenly you were fully clothed, and he was standing on the balcony railing. The silver light painted his hair and wings in a dull blue hue. “I have a different idea for us tonight… if you can keep up that is.” His wild smile told you all you needed to know. He leapt gracefully, before catching the wind below with a fading laugh. You cursed quietly to yourself, hauling your body up to the pillar and sending yourself soaring. 

+

“Dont tell me this is some kind of Illyrian initiation.” You chided, matching his pace as best you could. It was hard to not outpace him as he glided, his enormous wings gliding on the cool air. 

He laughed, banking slightly as you approached the small city below. Nestled into the mountain side along the sea, it didnt seem as harsh as the Illyian camps he had showed you from afar. Your mind flashed to those camps, the tents and the tooth chattering cold. No, this place was much too homey for such a camp. 

“This is… a gallery of sorts. Not many come here, but I thought it would also be nice for you to be able to tell Thesan about such a place.” He slowly began descending as he explained, and indeed the location seemed to have many large ancient looking items outside. 

As soon as you landed you were taken aback. The sight of an enormous, dark stone that took up the majority of the space outside the carved entrance to the gallery. A path had been worn around it, as if the spot had many visitors. You doubted many but Rhys even knew about the place. 

“It’s- it reminds me of you.” You were in awe. The stone glittered in the torchlight, but remained dark where the light wasnt refracted. It was smooth as well, besides the jagged and pointed edges. 

Rhysand turned from the mountain entrance “The rock? Darling just wait until you see inside.” He smiled, waving you over. With a wave of his hand, the door opened, pulling back then sliding away. Faelights slowly hummed to life inside the cavernous space. You couldnt see the entire room but the area must have been enormous. No way to see all of the things held inside in one day. Not even multiple days you were willing to bet. “Priestesses are the only others allowed here besides residents of Velaris, but not many of either ever visit. He explained, sending more faelight into the dark cavern.

“There are a few things in particular I wanted to show you.” He took your hand, guiding you to the right down a large archway. The lights bobbed and followed, casting strange shadows along the uneven cave walls. 

The sound of water flowing at a trickling pace filled the new, smaller room. The sight of the armor before your took your breath away. Ancient, well kept and utterly deadly looking. You felt a thrill of panic, as well as pride at the sight of it. “How-” You stammered, covering your mouth with a trembling hand. 

The white and silver plates were excruciatingly detailed, the sword beside the set a shining silver, as if freshly forged by the sun itself. Thesan had no armor of this quality still available at the Dawn court. The quality, the beauty of such a piece was exquisite. “If Thesan wishes to have this back, please feel free. But let him know that we have only recently acquired it. We have not been hoarding.” Rhys spoke from behind you, his voice soft and patient. 

Memories of being a child and playing with wooden swords flashed into your head. Envisioning such perfect armor like before the War fitting you, guilding you, marking you as the highest of warriors among the Dawn court. 

“W-who is we?” Was all you could manage as you reached out to touch the solid breastplate. Memories of parades, children cheering and high fae clapping as generals in shining armor marched home from the War. Centuries had passed since such armor was needed, thus they began to disappear. 

Rhys took your hand again, rubbing a thumb over yours. “A few high priestesses found it among their… storage. Closer to an abandoned temple but - I had Cassian clean it up for me a few weeks ago.” He chuckled before saying “I almost had to threaten him to get him to give it back to me. He was in awe and wanted to keep it for himself.” 

Your lips curve upwards, heart hammering. You pulled him in quickly for a tight hug. “Thank you.” You said deeply, wishing you could put the thoughts you were having directly into his head. Wishing you could tell him how much this meant. 

He pulled away from you, his callused hands going to cup your face as he pulled you in for a kiss. “Maybe I wont tell Thesan… and I’ll have to come back more often to take a look at the rest of this place.” You bit his lower lip and grinned at his darkened eyes.

“For research purposes only, surely?” He began kissing down the column of your neck, biting playfully. 

“Research, of course.” You sighed as his hands began tracing over your body. 

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | TWO

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,495

warnings: depression, anxiety, mental illness! angst, fluff if you squint really hard

18+!!! minors stay away

Peter Parker was relentless, insufferable, and extremely annoying. It all started the morning after what you'd decided to call The Encounter, and it had been unending ever since. Nearly a week had passed since that fateful night, and you'd yet to see a day at school where Peter didn't try his hardest to get under your skin.

On Monday he sat next to you in Calculus, and no matter how blatantly you ignored him for the entire class, he continued to whisper facts about himself and stupid little jokes to you. You wished you could say you hadn't listened, but ever since that morning you'd been unable to forget that his favorite color was red, his Aunt packed him a lunch every day that he threw away because she couldn't cook, and his middle name was Benjamin. Why he thought you needed or even wanted to know such things you weren't sure, but even more befuddling was the fact that you couldn't un-learn them.

When Tuesday rolled around he stepped it up a notch, much to your dismay. He sat with you during Calculus and insisted on jogging with you during gym class, feigning that he was out of breath despite your slow pace and the fact that you were certain he could run for miles without getting winded. He told you more jokes then, too. One of which you begrudgingly found yourself exhaling a little harder over whenever it popped into your head; what did one stranger say to the other? Nothing. They didn't know each other.

Wednesday was the worst, because Peter made a scene. You came into calculus late and the teacher scolded you in front of the class, at which point you got flustered and tripped over your untied shoe laces. Your books spilled to the floor and you tumbled to your knees in front of everyone, and the whole class laughed. But Peter? Peter just had to be the hero, and your blood boiled at his actions.

He'd dramatically swept all his books off of his desk, feigning surprise at the loud clatter as if he hadn't done it intentionally. When the teacher scolded him, too, he just apologized and made a show of picking up each of his things one by one. "Why did you do that?" you'd hissed as you sat down, scowling at the brown-eyed boy who just blinked at you innocently.

"Do what?"

He'd ran with you in gym class again, and he'd even followed you to your locker afterwards. In all the years you'd known of Peter, you had never known him to be much of a talker. In fact, he seemed like a rather shy boy who didn't like to branch out much. With you, though, that was far from the case. Silence was a pipe dream with him around.

On Thursday he sat next to you in Calculus, ran with you in gym, walked you to your locker, and went so far as to sit with you at lunch. You'd put your earbuds in and blasted music as loud as you could without hurting yourself too much, but every time you looked up you could see he was still talking. Part of you wondered why he was being so relentless, but you didn't want to ask. If you asked he would think you cared, and you didn't. You didn't care at all, and the sooner he figured that out, the sooner he would leave you alone.

Or, at least you hoped so. As you walked into school on Friday morning, you groaned at the sight of Peter waiting patiently beside your locker. "What do you want, Parker?" you gritted out, glaring at him as you twisted the dial to enter your combination.

He grinned in spite of your glare, "I'm walking you to Calculus today, obviously. How was your night, (Y/N)? Do anything fun?"

"What part of I don't need friends did you not understand?" you demanded, giving him a stale look as you swung the metal door open with a clang. Peter blinked at you, clearly not used to you actually speaking back to him, and further uncomfortable with your hostility. What did he expect? Did he expect for you to suddenly be happy? To not be completely fucked up anymore just because he started talking to you?

He replaced his lazy smile and shrugged, retorting, "You know my secret and I know yours. That makes us friends."

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to shout, yell, stomp your feet, and throw a tantrum fit for a child. Friends were not something you wanted or needed, and you certainly didn't want to be friends with Peter Parker. You didn't want to be friends with someone just because they were worried you'd spill their dirty little secret, or because they pitied the girl who wanted to die.

The black hole in your chest was worse than ever that day, and it sucked away all the fight you had in you. So, with a roll of your eyes, you stuffed your earbuds in your ears and tuned him out once more. Just like he had at lunch, Peter continued to ramble even though he knew you weren't listening, and you pretended you didn't see his lips moving at the speed of light.

For once, at the very least, he at least shut up in class. You were thankful for the break from his incessant chatter, the endless monologue you couldn't escape from when you were stuck in a desk while Mr. Tinley droned on and on. Calculus was far from interesting, but you found yourself beyond relieved to finally be able to pay any sort of attention to the lesson.

Friday was steadily continuing along the same path every other day had since The Encounter. Peter thankfully parted ways with you after Calculus, but quickly rejoined you two classes later in Gym. From Gym he was glued to your side through lunch until you escaped to your Spanish class, which you thankfully didn't share with him, but the solitude was short lived. Your last class of the day was one you also shared with Peter, and prior to that day he had remained seated with his friends.

That day, though, he plopped down in the seat beside you with a cheerful smile. "Ready for our new project?" he asked, skipping the greeting he knew you wouldn't return.

"Huh?" you asked, blinking at him in bewilderment. New project? Our? What was he talking about?

Peter beamed back at you, clearly pleased that you hadn't snapped at him for once. "Our new project! Didn't you see the list on the door? We're partners." he explained, and you stiffened.

It was too big of a coincidence to truly be happenstance. All week Peter had been pestering you, perpetually following you around and talking your ear off, and now he just happened to be assigned as your partner for the final Speech project? He did something. That was the only logical conclusion.

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at him with as much intensity as you could muster. "Peter, what did you do?" you growled.

Peter's eyes widened at your tone, and he shifted in his seat nervously with a sheepish smile. "What do you mean?" he questioned coyly, and you scowled at him fiercely. "I didn't do anything, (Y/N)."

"Bullshit." you snapped, "I find it hard to believe that we just happened to be assigned partners after how obsessively you've been harassing me all week."

He gaped at you, "Harassed? What?" he stammered, "(Y/N), let's calm down--I haven't... I haven't been harassing you. I just want you to know I really do want to be your friend."

You scoffed at his excuse, "Shut up, Peter. Just leave me alone! I don't want to be your friend, okay? My lips are sealed. I won't tell anyone your secret, just leave me alone!"

With one finally glare, you lurched out of your seat and stomped to one far away from the still aghast boy. As you settled into your new seat, ignoring the strange looks from your classmates who witnessed your outburst, you wrinkled your nose and picked at your nails angrily. As much as you were angry with Peter, you were also angry with yourself.

You were angry that he'd stopped you, and you'd let him. You were angry at the world for letting your sister die. You were angry at your sister for saving you when she should have saved herself. Most of all, though, you were angry with yourself for how you were acting. Even though she wasn't there, you could almost hear your sister scolding you for how you'd treated Peter.

She always was the levelheaded, rational sister. The good sister. The better sister. She would have been ashamed of how you'd been ignoring Peter, ranting to you, "He's just trying to be there for you, idiot. Stop being such a jerk and let him help you. You need to stop being so stubborn..."

You listened eagerly to Ms. Lovell's lesson and instruction for the new project. It wasn't because you were genuinely interested, because you weren't, but it was something to distract you. It was something to drown out the voice of your sister that was echoing through your skull, rattling you to your core as you tried to keep your emotions at bay.

This was the hardest part of losing your sister. She'd been so close to you, so important to you, it was impossible to not think of her in every moment of every day. It was impossible not to think of what she'd have done, instead of what you had done. It was impossible not to think of what she'd have thought of your actions, what she'd have said to you, of what she'd have wanted you to do.

She had been your voice of reason, your confidant, your role model. She'd always been so much better than you, someone you aspired to be like, and now that she was gone the comparisons were so much heavier on your head. Why couldn't it have been you instead of her? She would never have had such a hard time like you were.

For instance, she wouldn't have been so bitter. She wouldn't have been so filled with rage, hatred, or despair. She wouldn't have blamed anyone, not even herself, and she wouldn't have hated the people who had killed you. She always did love a good superhero, and even if you'd have died at the hands of the Avengers like she had, she would have found a reason to still have faith in them. She would have forgiven them.

This project was going to be a tough one, and not just because you were going to have to work with Peter Parker. "This is going to be a persuasive speech, guys, so you're able to pick your stance freely so long as it pertains to the Avengers. For example, you could persuade us that they're bad, if that's how you feel." Ms. Lovell explained, "Just be prepared to face debate from the class. Each group has to face five full minutes of argument from the class and be able to firmly debate their stance."

A project in which you'd have to argue your stance pertaining to the superheroes that had killed your sister, and you were working with Peter-Spiderman-Parker. Great, you thought to yourself, this was going to be a nightmare. There was no way the two of you would agree on what stance to persuade; you hated superheroes, and he was one, for God's sake.

You glanced over at Peter, only to catch him already staring at you. The pair of you quickly looked away from each other, but you noticed the way his cheeks flared red in embarrassment. How long had he been watching you? Was he dreading the project now as much as you were?

He probably didn't know how you felt about the Avengers. Not many people really cared enough to read about what had happened to your sister, and you weren't exactly in the right state of mind to be out protesting the many shortcomings of the superheroes. You wondered, though, how he would react when he found out.

Lying was an option, but there was no way you'd be able to debate in favor of the Avengers without breaking. Could you debate against them without losing it either, though? You weren't entirely sure. It was a sore subject and you were certainly not looking forward to having to dedicate your time to speaking about them.

Peter lingered by his seat after class was dismissed, staring at you awkwardly as he told his friends he would catch up with them later. You could see the strange, weary looks they shot you, but you chose to ignore them. Everyone looked at you a little funny ever since the incident, and you'd long ago grown accustomed to it. This time, though, you couldn't help but think they were looking at you strangely for a reason other than your sister.

You had two options. You could suck it up and talk to Peter right then, or you could continue to ignore him until you were forced to do the project. Catching his warm brown eyes as he timidly watched you, you sighed. It was now or never; maybe if you were nicer he'd back off a little with the obsessive tendencies.

"So," you drawled, approaching him shyly, "how are we gonna do this?"

This was what she would have wanted you to do; that's what you chanted in your head as you forced yourself to at least seem somewhat approachable. "Uh, we could--we could meet up tomorrow? You could come to my apartment." he stuttered, scratching his neck awkwardly and fiddling with his backpack.

He radiated nervous energy, and the black hole inside of you consumed it greedily. You twiddled your thumbs just as nervously as you replied, "Do you, um, do you mind coming to my house instead? My parents are--they're a little weird about me going out because of... yeah."

God, his stutter was rubbing off on you, and you cringed at the way you stumbled over your words like a fool. It had been such a long time since you'd invited anyone to your house, let alone talked to anyone besides your parents and your therapist, and it was stressing you out. The exhaustion of the day was wearing you down rapidly, and having to socialize was making it worse.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course!" he spluttered, "Uh, could I get your number? So I can, like, text you when I'm coming?"

You hoped he didn't notice how much your fingers were shaking as you took his phone, struggling to type in your number as you mistyped multiple times. Once you'd saved your contact into his phone, you sent yourself a text so that you'd have his number too. You didn't exactly answer unknown numbers anymore, though if you were honest, you often didn't answer people you knew either. That was what drove your friends away.

Peter shot you a shy smile as you handed his phone back, and he asked, "Do you want to get started tonight, maybe? I could call you."

Biting your cheek, you paled. Tonight? You were exhausted, and the thought of having to talk for any longer made you nauseous. "No offense, Peter, but I... I really just need a break. This week has been a lot." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you stared at your feet.

"Oh, yeah, totally." he acquiesced, "I'll, uh, I'll see you tomorrow."

You didn't reply, only giving him a tight lipped smile that probably looked more like a grimace as you quickly walked away. Once you were out of his sight, your entire body drooped and the numbness steadily washed over you. It had been the longest day, and you were once again grateful for the escape from the overwhelming emotions.

Ever since she died, it was as if all your emotions were on overdrive. There were the many constant ones, like the guilt, shame, and anguish over her death. Along with those were more fleeting ones, like anger, disgust, and fear. Peter, though, he brought about a whole slew of new and equally as intense feelings that drained you.

He made you feel things like anxiety, apprehension, and hope. There was anxiety both due to his wild behavior in regards to you, but also because you feared he might tell people what he'd seen. The apprehension was due to your suspicion he was only so interested because you knew his secret, and was just as fearful that you would tell. But the hope, the stupid anticipation, was the worst.

It was the worst because a stupid part of you hoped he was genuine. You wanted him to really want to be your friend with no ulterior motives because, no matter how much you denied it, you really did need a friend. You wanted a friend. You wanted to let someone in.

You weren't buying it, though, because you were certain you couldn't handle the heartbreak of being wrong about his intentions and discovering he really did only care about his secret. You weren't going to let him hurt you, and if you had to shut yourself off from the world and hurt yourself to prevent it, then so be it. It was easier that way.

Peter Parker: hey i know you said you didn't want to start tonight but that doesn't mean we can't get to know each other

Peter Parker: so if you want, lets play 20 questions! i'll start. what's your favorite movie?

The typing cursor blinked at you tauntingly as you laid on your bed, huddled under the blankets with your thumbs hovering over the keys. That stupid part of you that wanted to make your sister proud begged you to go along with it, to let him be a friend, but you were terrified. You were terrified of the way you actually opened the text and went to reply without hesitation, something you hadn't done since before the incident. You were terrified of the way you wanted to reply, but the only thing that gave you pause was the fact that you didn't have an answer.

Movies weren't something you'd given much thought to in awhile. You knew all of your sister's favorite movies by heart, but your favorite movie? It was as if your brain opened an empty drawer. You didn't know what your favorite movie was.

You: i don't know

Peter Parker: what do you mean you don't know

Peter Parker: do you not like movies?!

You: i just don't know okay

You: i can't remember the last time i watched a movie.

That was a lie. You very well could remember the last time you'd watched a movie, and that was because it was with her. The weekend before she'd died, your sister had dragged you to the theater to watch some cheesy romance film she'd been gushing about for weeks. It was awful, but it was so utterly her that you'd weirdly enjoyed it. You enjoyed it because it made her happy.

Peter Parker: that's crazy wow

Peter Parker: no offense sorry

Peter Parker: it's your turn to ask

You: what's your favorite movie

Peter Parker: star wars but you can't ask the same question!! try again

You: fine

You: what's your favorite food?

Was talking to boys always this hard? You couldn't remember the last time you'd had to get to know someone, but you didn't think it had ever been so nerve wracking. Was something wrong with you? Was everything destined to be this hard now that she was gone?

Peter Parker: anything from Delmar's

Peter Parker: best sandwiches in Queens

Peter Parker: since you got a double and you technically didn't answer my first question, i'm asking you the same but also what's your happiest memory

Everything was always going to be hard. Reading his response, your lungs deflated in your chest and the numbness gave way to the all too familiar sensation of despair. She'd always loved Delmar's, insisting on getting the same sandwich from there every single Friday after school, and it had been your thing.

Would there ever be anything that didn't remind you of her? Remind you of the hole punched in your life where she used to be? It was hard enough dealing with the empty space in your room where her bed used to be, the empty chair at the dinner table where she'd used to sit, all the empty spaces she'd used to fill up. But the little things--the little memories of things she'd used to love--those hurt so much more.

You: i have to go

You: i forgot i'm busy tomorrow so we can't start the project

You: i'm sorry

SERIES TAG-LIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton

[peachy-rambles]

I'm Here

2,065 words of minor Phil angst and some good ol' hurt/comfort+fluff at the end

Techno couldn't sleep.

It wasn't exactly an uncommon problem for him. There had been plenty of times where he would end up staying awake for days, until he'd eventually pass out from exhaustion (entering hibernation mode). However, for the past few months, Techno had slept peacefully almost every night.

Because for the past few months, he had shared his bed with Phil.

It had simply been out of convenience at first, since there had only been one bed in Techno's cabin and there wasn't exactly any room for a second one. They had never spoken about it and it had never been a big issue, so they had just continued to share.

It had been...nice, sharing a bed with someone. With Phil.

To have Phil lay next to him, only a few inches away and easily within arms reach. To hear Phil's gentle breathing as he slept, and to know that he was there, that he was safe, that he was with Techno.

Usually in the morning, they'd end up waking up in each other's arms, having gravitated towards each other throughout the night. Phil, being the early bird he was, would always wake up first, but for some reason he'd stay in bed and wait until Techno eventually awoke.

"Good morning, Techno," Phil would say, smiling at him.

And every morning, Techno had to resist the urge to lean forward and kiss him because while Phil always looked beautiful, he truly looked like an angel in the morning. With his hair mussed from sleep and wearing a fond sleepy expression as he gazed at Techno, the morning light would filter through the curtains on the window and cast a soft golden glow around Phil.

Techno let out a large sigh at the memory and glanced over next to him where Phil's side of the bed lay empty.

Phil had finally completed building his own house next to Techno's and had finished moving into it earlier today. Which meant, they didn't need to share a bed anymore, not when Phil had his own house now where he could put a bed.

Techno understood, he really did. It made sense for Phil to want his own space and make his own house. His own bed.

Still, it didn't mean Techno didn't already miss him. He'd gotten used to sharing a bed and knew it'd probably be a while until he readjusted back to sleeping alone.

About an hour passed with Techno attempting to fall asleep, until he eventually gave up and tossed the blankets off, climbing out of bed.

He grabbed his cloak and threw it over his shoulders before heading downstairs. He figured he might as well go for a walk or maybe check on the animals because he certainly wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon.

He stepped outside into the cold night air and his eyes widened when he saw Phil standing on the bridge connecting their houses, leaning over the railings of it and staring out into the distance.

"Phil?"

Phil startled, turning when he heard his name and Techno couldn't help the low whine he let out when he saw tears flowing down Phil's face, his eyes red and puffy no doubt from crying.

Phil quickly reached up and wiped the tears from his face with sleeves of his robe, but it was already too late. Techno had seen it.

"Techno! I-I didn't hear you come out. W-what...what are you doing out so late?" Phil let out a nervous chuckle, as he finished wiping his face.

"I could ask you the same thing," Techno approached him with cautious steps until he was standing next to Phil. He reached down and placed a hand under Phil's chin, tilting his face up. "You've been crying."

Phil pulled away from Techno and took a step back, avoiding Techno's gaze. "I-it's nothing-"

Techno let out a growl, immediately silencing him. "It's not nothing, Phil! You wouldn't be out here in the middle of the night crying if it was nothing!"

He hadn't meant to snap at Phil, but he was worried, damnit. Phil always put up a brave face, joking and acting like nothing ever bothered him, insisting that he was perfectly fine. And Techno knew that if he didn't confront Phil about this now, if he let it go, then Phil would no doubt push whatever was bothering him deep down and ignore it.

Techno loved Phil too much to just let him suffer in silence.

Phil stared at Techno with wide eyes, seemingly shocked by Techno's words.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that," Techno sighed, "I just...want to help you. I'm here for you, Phil. I always will be."

"But you won't!"

Techno was silent, watching Phil as he took in a deep breath before continueing.

"You're not...you're not going to always be here, Techno. You'll leave me someday and then...then I'll be alone, again. I-I can't-"

Phil choked and let out a sob as more tears flowed down his face. Techno didn't hesitate to reach out and pull Phil into a hug, glad when Phil didn't try to push him away.

Phil gripped the sides of Techno's cloak tightly in his hands and pressed his face into Techno's chest before he began to cry. He wasn't quiet either, openly sobbing against Techno's chest, his entire body shaking as Techno held him.

Techno didn't say anything, since he didn't think there was really anything he could say to comfort Phil. So he just held him and let Phil cry.

Eventually, Phil's tears began to slow down and his breathing evened out, only occasionally letting out a small hiccup or whimper. He still held onto Techno's cloak, but his grip wasn't as tight anymore and his body seemed to have relaxed slightly in Techno's hold.

"Better?" Techno asked after a few moments.

Phil let out a noncommittal hum against Techno's chest, which...didn't really answer Techno's question, but it was better than nothing.

So he was surprised when he heard Phil speak, his voice somewhat muffled against Techno's chest.

"I don't want to be alone anymore, Techno."

"You won't," Techno said and immediately felt Phil tense up against him.

"Hey, Phil, look at me," he loosened his hold on Phil and placed his hands on either side of Phil's face, gently guiding Phil's head out from where it was still hiding against Techno's chest.

"There you are," Techno smiled down at him when their eyes finally met and he was able to look properly at Phil.

His face were red and blotchy from crying, and while he still seemed upset, he looked a little calmer and like he wouldn't burst into tears again.

"Phil, I promise you I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. I'm not going to leave you. Not now or ever," Techno promised before bending down to press a brief kiss against Phil's forehead.

Phil let out a tired sigh, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Techno."

"I've already promised you the world. I think I can handle keeping up with you for at least the next few centuries," Techno replied back. He paused before adding, "Us immortals have to stick together, right?"

Phil let out a weak chuckle, the corner of his mouth rising ever so slightly in a small smile, "Right."

A sudden gust of air flew past them just then and Phil shivered, reminding Techno how cold it was out here at night.

"We should probably head back inside before we catch a cold or something," he suggested and slowly separated himself from Phil. "You think you'll be okay for tonight?"

Phil glanced down at his hands, where they were fiddling with the hem on his sleeve. He stayed quiet, and Techno stood there patiently, letting Phil gather his thoughts.

"I...I don't know. I don't really want to go back inside my house..." his voice trailed off for a moment before he quietly asked, "Could I...maybe sleep with you tonight?"

"Yeah, of course," Techno smiled and held out his hand to Phil, who took it and let Techno lead him into his house.

"You go up first, I'll be up in a minute," Techno said when they entered, letting go of Phil's hand.

Phil nodded and headed to the ladder leading up to the bedroom. Techno joined him a minute later, holding a warm washcloth in his hand. Phil was sitting quietly on the bed and Techno sat down next to him, raising the washcloth up to Phil's face. "May I?"

Phil nodded and Techno began to wipe Phil's face, making sure to go slow and gentle as he did.

By the time he was done, Phil definitely looked better, the tear tracks now gone and his eyes less red.

Techno stood up, tossing the washcloth into the hamper in his room and hung his cloak back up before walking back to the bed, where Phil had already climbed under the covers. Techno slid into the bed next to him, turning on his side so they were face to face, both quietly staring at each other.

"Phil...could I ask what you were doing out there before I came out?" Techno eventually said, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Phil let out a sigh, "No, it's...it's fine. I...well, I had a nightmare. I don't even remember it, but when I woke up, I was alone. You weren't there and I guess I just...panicked. I went out to get some air and try to calm down, but then you found me."

"So that's why you didn't want to go back into your house," Techno realized.

"Yeah, I...don't like being alone," Phil confirmed and suddenly let out a yawn, "I think...I'm gonna go to sleep now. Goodnight, Techno."

"Goodnight, Phil," Techno smiled, "I'll be right here when you wake up."

Phil smiled, "Thanks, Tech."

Techno wasn't surprised when Phil managed to fall asleep a few minutes later, the man was no doubt exhausted from the emotional turmoil he had just gone through. Techno ended up falling asleep quickly after.

---

To Techno's complete surprise, he was the first one to wake up in the morning.

It was a bit strange, to have their positions reversed for once, but he didn't mind.

Phil was curled up in his arms, his head resting on Techno's chest, snoring ever so softly. Techno smiled and stared down at Phil, watching as he slept.

It was about an hour later that Phil began to stir, slowly opening his eyes and letting out the cutest chirp Techno had ever heard as he woke up.

"Good morning, Phil," Techno said, a warm smile on his face.

"Tech, you're here," Phil looked at Techno with that familiar sleepy fond expression on his face.

"I said I would be, wouldn't I?" Techno teased.

"Mm, you did," Phil said and let out another happy little chirp before sitting up slightly, so he was leaning on his elbow and looking down at Techno.

"Tech, I have something to tell you."

"Oh? What is it?"

"I was...a mess last night. But you were there for me, just like you always have been," Phil said, "This morning, waking up next to you, I realized something that I don't know why I never figured out before now."

"...Figured what out?" Techno asked, unsure as to where exactly Phil was going with this.

"That I want to wake up in your arms every morning, for the rest of our lives, if you'll let me," Phil confessed, smiling down at him.

Techno, the incredibly intelligent and articulate person that he was, responded aptly.

"Heh?"

Phil laughed before leaning down to whisper, "I love you, you idiot," and kissed Techno.

Techno was frozen in shock for a moment before he kissed back, bringing his hand up to cup the back of Phil's head.

They separated after a moment to catch their breath before Techno pulled Phil back down into another kiss.

"I love you, too," Techno said when they separated again, "But I should say in advance that you probably shouldn't count on me to wake up first in the morning. I have a feeling this was a once in a blue moon kind of thing."

"I think I can live with that," Phil chuckled and leaned down to kiss Techno once more.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: Dr. Alchemy/Dr. Albert Desmond/Mr. Element

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Dr. Albert Desmond, also known as Dr. Alchemy and Mr. Element. Patient suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder. Session One. So, Dr. Desmond, how are you feeling? 

Dr. Alchemy: Go away. I’m reading. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, I promise that you will be able to return to your books as soon as this session is over. But for right now, I need you to talk to me. 

Dr. Alchemy: I am not interested in conversation. Leave me alone. 

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid I cannot do that, Dr. Desmond. As your psychologist, I have a responsibility to maintain your well-being. 

Dr. Alchemy: I have read countless books on the subject of psychology, Dr. Strange. There is nothing you can teach me that I do not already know. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, this is not about knowledge. It is about helping you to live a more productive life. 

Dr. Alchemy: Dr. Desmond would likely appreciate the sentiment, but he isn’t here right now. So please, leave me to my studies. I have important work to do, and no time for idle chatter. 

Hugo Strange: I take it I am speaking to one of Dr. Desmond’s alters, then? 

Dr. Alchemy: Yes. I am Doctor Alchemy. Now kindly go away and leave me alone. 

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid that I cannot do that, Dr. Alchemy. As your psychologist, it would be irresponsible of me not to hold these therapy sessions with you. 

Dr. Alchemy: You are not my psychologist; you are Dr. Desmond’s psychologist. Dr. Desmond is not here right now, so you have no responsibilities in this room. Go away. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Alchemy, you and Dr. Desmond share the same body, and are fragmented parts of the same basic personality. Medically and legally, both of you are my patients...as are any other alters that may exist. 

Dr. Alchemy: Be that as it may, I have nothing to say to you. Go away.

Hugo Strange: (Sighs) If I arrange to have some more rare books delivered to your room, will you agree to participate in the session, Dr. Alchemy? 

Dr. Alchemy: (Pleased) Yes. Thank you, Dr. Strange. (Pause) What do you want to know? 

Hugo Strange: According to your files, you are a very educated man. You have PhDs in chemistry, biochemistry, and molecular biology. You could easily earn money legitimately...and, in fact, Dr. Desmond does just that in his career at S.T.A.R. Labs. Why, then, did you choose to become a costumed criminal? 

Dr. Alchemy: Research is expensive, Dr. Strange. How else was I to fund my experiments? 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond usually asks for grant money. 

Dr. Alchemy: Only because he wastes our talents on safe, predictable work. I, on the other hand, push the boundaries of established science. That frightens the complacent and the simple-minded, and as such, they dismiss my work as lunacy and refuse to help me in my endeavors to expand humanity’s understanding of the cosmos. 

Hugo Strange: Even if that is true, Dr. Alchemy, your file indicates that you are a metahuman with the power to transmute the elements at will. Why not use that power to create gold or silver, sell it for a profit, and use that to fund your experiments? 

Dr. Alchemy: And debase my powers by using them for something as mundane as earning petty cash from the mindless multitudes? Never. 

Hugo Strange: But you’re perfectly willing to use those same powers to steal money from the same mindless multitude? 

Dr. Alchemy: Of course. I am the lord of the very elements! It is my right to take whatever I desire. 

Hugo Strange: You are stealing! Like a common thief! 

Dr. Alchemy: A common thief could not turn your blood into formaldehyde, Dr. Strange. 

Hugo Strange: Was that a threat, Dr. Alchemy? 

Dr. Alchemy: No, not a threat. Merely a reminder of your position. 

Hugo Strange: (Angry) Let me make one thing clear, Dr. Alchemy. When you were sent here, you were, effectively, declared a ward of the state. I am the head of this Asylum. I want to help you, but if you prove to be a threat to me, the other patients, or the staff, I will authorize that you be put on a regime of enough antipsychotic drugs to all but kill your conscious mind. 

Dr. Alchemy: (Quiet laugh) And break your Hippocratic Oath by sentencing poor Dr. Desmond to a living death? I don’t believe you have that in you, Dr. Strange.

Hugo Strange: (Icily) To prevent one of the most powerful metahumans in the world from laying waste to this institution? There is very little I would not do, Dr. Alchemy. Metahuman power dampeners have a very limited effect on you, and I am not enough of a fool to rely solely on your goodwill to keep you in check. 

Dr. Alchemy: (Quickly) In that case, I rescind my reminder. 

Hugo Strange: I’m glad to hear that, Dr. Alchemy. (Pause) So tell me, what is your relationship with your city’s scarlet-clad vigilante? 

Dr. Alchemy: The Flash? He’s an impediment to my research, nothing more. 

Hugo Strange: And your decision to put on a costume was in no way inspired by him? 

Dr. Alchemy: Perhaps on some level. But he means nothing to me. Dr. Desmond is the one who cares about him. 

Hugo Strange: In that case, will you permit me to speak with Dr. Desmond? 

Dr. Alchemy: Certainly not. That weak-willed fool would only interfere with my studies. 

Dr. Hugo Strange: If you cooperate, I’ll see what I can do about getting you a first-edition copy of The Grapes of Wrath. 

Dr. Alchemy: Very well. If I can find Dr. Desmond, I’ll let him know that he wishes to speak with you. 

(Long pause) 

Hugo Strange: Are you all right, Dr. Alchemy? 

Albert: (in a voice that is similar to, but distinguishable from, Dr. Alchemy’s) W-where am I? What’s going on? 

Hugo Strange: (Realizing) Is this Dr. Albert Desmond? 

Albert: Y-yes. (Pause) Who are you? What is this place? What am I doing here? 

Hugo Strange: I am Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. What is the last thing you remember, Dr. Desmond? 

Albert: I...I was at home with my wife, Rita. She was making dinner, and I felt a headache coming on, so I went outside to get some fresh air and-(Pause) Oh, no. It happened again, didn’t it? 

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid so, Dr. Desmond. A week ago, Dr. Alchemy was captured by the Flash whilst attempting to turn an entire stadium’s worth of people into tungsten. Since Iron Heights Penitentiary is currently incapable of holding metahuman criminals, it was decided that he should be transferred to Arkham Asylum, pending his trial. 

Albert: Not again...not again!  It’s been three years since the last time. I thought that the nightmare was finally over. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, the courts are aware of your… highly unusual...form of Dissociative Identity Disorder. You will almost certainly be declared not guilty by reason of insanity. 

Albert: And then they’ll lock me away in a hospital instead of a prison. Rita and I...we have a baby son! Is he going to grow up with his father shut away in a mental institution? (Pause) I should have had her divorce me. At least that way she wouldn’t be raising our son all by herself. And she wouldn’t have to worry about both her and the baby being murdered by a costumed maniac! 

Hugo Strange: Neither of your alters have ever actually murdered someone, Dr. Desmond. 

Albert: No. But from what I’ve been told, it hasn’t been from lack of trying. (Pause) I let her marry me. I knew what I was, and I let her marry a monster. 

Hugo Strange: You are not a monster, Dr. Desmond. Your family members, the police and judicial departments of Central City, and even your city’s costumed vigilante all swear as to your good moral character. 

Albert: Good moral character? Dr. Strange, both of my alters are criminals; which means that there’s a part of me...there’s a part of me that wants to do the things they do. If there wasn’t, surely I would have been able to get rid of them by now. The fact that I haven’t proves that I don’t have good morals. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, do you ever remember the actions of your alters? 

Albert: Almost never. (Pause) I usually end up finding out about it after the fact. You have no idea how horrible it is to have someone tell you that your body went on a crime spree that you don’t remember anything about. 

Hugo Strange: In other words, you have dissociative amnesia during the periods in which your alters are dominant. (Pause) Do you make an effort to prevent your alters from emerging, Dr. Desmond? 

Albert: Of course I do! I take medication, I exercise, I ensure that I always get a full night’s rest, I go to therapy….I don’t want to be a monster. 

Hugo Strange: A monster wouldn’t battle his illness in the way that you do, Dr. Desmond. You are not a monster. You are ill, and through no fault of your own. 

Albert: I...I wish I could believe that, Dr. Strange. (Pause) But honestly? I’m starting to think that maybe I should just be locked up forever. It would...it would be better for everyone. 

(Long pause) 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond? Dr. Desmond, are you all right? 

Mr. Element: (in a voice that is similar to, but distinguishable from, Dr. Alchemy and Albert’s voices) I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man, Doc.

Hugo Strange: Who are you? And what happened to Dr. Desmond? 

Mr. Element: Nothing. I just decided to take control. It seems that Doc Alchemy’s actions have caused him to almost give up hope completely this time, and that meant he couldn’t put up much of a fight against me. (Pause) Thanks for getting Doc Alchemy to give up control voluntarily, by the way. You have no idea how tough it is to win fights for control with that guy. 

Hugo Strange: I take it you’re Mr. Desmond’s other alter? 

Mr. Element: That’s right, Doc. You can call me Mr. Element. 

Hugo Strange: Not Dr. Element? 

Mr. Element: Nah. The other two got most of the brains, I’m afraid. It’s why I’m not as powerful as either one of ‘em. (Pause) Not that you’d know it from looking at Albert, of course. He’s got no idea how powerful he really is. He’s even more powerful than Doc Alchemy! 

Hugo Strange: I suppose that that makes a certain amount of sense. Dr. Desmond is, after all, the personality from which the two of you split off. Perhaps that allows him to mainline the power, so to speak. (Pause) So, Mr. Element, why do you commit crimes in a silly costume? 

Mr. Element: To get money and attention. Doc Alchemy could care less about that sort of thing, and Albert’s too much of a goody-good to admit that he wants either, so it’s up to me to make sure people remember us. 

Hugo Strange: And the costume, was it inspired by the Flash? 

Mr. Element: No. It was based on our fascination with elements. The mask was so that I could inhale pure oxygen; I used a carbon atom as my symbol because life has its basis in carbon-you get the idea. Albert’s the one who has an emotional connection to the Speedster. 

Hugo Strange: Yes, yes. Dr. Alchemy said the same thing. (Pause) So, are either you or Dr. Alchemy Rogues, Mr. Element? 

Mr. Element: No. Doc Alchemy and I both prefer to work solo. Besides, I think the Doc kind of freaks them out. 

Hugo Strange: Are there any particular concerns you want to talk to me about, Mr. Element? 

Mr. Element: Not really. Albert’s the one with the hang-ups. 

Hugo Strange: In that case, I am going to bring this session to a close. I need some time to reflect on your case and how to best treat it. It is noticeably abnormal, and I will need to adjust my strategies accordingly.

[peaches-writes]

before one a.m.

description: bang chan, college of music, friend of a friend who surprisingly offers to share a workplace in a cafe on this busy friday night member: chan genre: fluff, college au, strangers to friends au, reader is a fine arts student word count: 7.4k warning: explicit language note: inspired by the before trilogy but it kinda feels like i didn’t do it justice i rlly cant do strangers to anything lmao im a clown + this took rlly long but it’s not that good sldkfjkdsl :( 

6:30 PM

You hurriedly skip up the steps of the campus library’s entrance staircase, backpack slung over one shoulder and your laptop, tucked in its own bag, and a sketchbook pressed to your chest. Entering through the double doors, you breathlessly sigh in disappointment at seeing most of the working tables full. I run from Fine Arts across the oval to a full library, you huff at scanning the floor from the entrance one last time before proceeding to run up the staircase by the reception desk, skipping the steps again in an attempt to cross the distance faster. 

On the second to the last step, as you focus on not missing the steps you hop onto, your shoulders accidentally bump into someone rushing down from the opposite side, almost making you slip if not for the stranger who quickly steadies you by your upper arm in time. “Woah there.” A familiar voice mutters under his breath as you regain composure. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry!”

You look up from almost dropping your laptop and sketchbook on the staircase, meeting eyes with an apologetic Bang Chan who has moved a step above you with a messenger bag and his infamous laptop. 

“Are you okay?” He prods on, going down one step again so you’re on the same level now.

Though he’s in a different college, you know him by name and face from similar social circles, hence the slight embarrassment you felt at recognizing him after almost slipping right in front of him. “I’m okay.” You muse, eyes then flitting over to the second floor entrance. “Is it full too?” 

Chan nods once, fixing his messenger bag with one hand as it starts to feel heavy. “Y-yeah, it’s finals week in the College of Sciences, I think.” 

“Oh.” You frown. “Well, that’s too bad.”

The two of you stand in silence for a moment, you slowly alternating your gaze between the second floor and the staircase leading back to the first, contemplating on what to do now, while Chan strangely waits for you to say something again. 

When you don’t speak, he speaks up again, “Do you want to...” He trails off until you avert your gaze back to him. “I’m going to Block 325 to work. Do you want to come and share a table with me?” 

Your eyes widen, surprised at a fellow college student being generous enough to share a study spot with you, but Chan misinterprets, thinking you don’t remember him from when you were introduced in Seungmin’s birthday party. “I’m sorry.” He quickly apologizes again, scratching the nape of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just that I thought you’d—now I sound like a creep. I’m so sorry, that’s not my intention at all.”

Simultaneously, you respond, “O-Oh, I was just surprised. College students aren’t really that generous with work areas—what?” 

Chan takes a step backward, leaning close to the railings. “W-What?” 

You chuckle, amused by the small miscommunication that suddenly made the atmosphere lighter. “Why did you think you sounded like a creep? I just said it’s a nice offer, not everyone here offers to share work spaces.” 

“Well, I thought you didn’t recognize me,” He answers honestly. “we were introduced at Seungmin’s party?”

You shake your head, your smile growing at how cute he looks when he’s flustered. “Bang Chan, right? College of Music.” You smile when he nods innocently. “See? I’m more worried you didn’t recognize me, CB97.” 

Chan blushes in embarrassment, but even more in the way his Soundcloud rapper name rolls off your lips almost teasingly. “So...” He changes the topic immediately. “Do you want to go with me, Y/N?” 

You nod, noting the way he mimicked the tone you used in referring to him by his stage name. “Of course, thank you for offering to share a workspace.”

“No problem, any friend of Seungmin’s my friend too.” He waves his free hand dismissively before leading you down the staircase. “Come on, let’s go.” 

You leave the library together, the feeling of the building’s cold air conditioning leaving escaping your skin making you sweat slightly. You don’t skip down the stairs this time since Chan doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get to Block 325 cafe, North of the campus oval. 

“Look.” Chan points up as the two of you reach the sidewalk. You follow his gaze as you continue walking, seeing the sunset’s sky move with the crown shyness of trees forming a canopy over the road. “Careful when you’re walking.”

You deliberately ignore his last comment, musing, “Wow, it’s so beautiful.” Your mouth falls agape and your eyes widen. “The canopy shape makes it look so magical, don’t you think?”

“You don’t stay late out here much?” Chan asks when you turn your eyes back to the sidewalk ahead. 

You return his gaze with a shrug, “Only on hell weeks like this...but even then, I usually stay in our department building so I don’t get out much at this hour.” 

“So why aren’t you working in your building tonight?” 

“The floor where I usually work overnight is under renovation. I can’t work at my dorm too since we don’t really have that much space for studying,” Your eyes move down to his laptop bag, noticing how it’s bulkier than yours. “What about you? Don’t they have studios in the College of Music?” 

“They’re full tonight since a lot of seniors are starting their thesis proposals.” He points out. “I’m actually not out making a school project, this one’s for a gig.”

“And in your dorms?” 

“It’s movie night so everyone’s going to be really noisy.”

“Oh, then lucky you didn’t get a table in the library,” You point out with a giggle. “the entire College of Sciences would’ve been pissed at you.” 

Chan scoffs lightheartedly, “And you? If you got a table, the entire library would’ve gotten annoyed by you making a mess.” 

“I’m organized when I work outside the studio, thank you very much.” You roll your eyes, chuckling towards the end. “But yeah, I guess it’s better that we’re going to a cafe since I’m working with watercolor.” 

At this, you arrive in front of Block 325 cafe, Chan courteously opening the door for you.  

7:30 PM

You settle in a booth by the window, illuminated by a white paper lantern and one of the cafe’s neon signs that reads, “COFFEE,” in a metallic color. Chan sits across from you and takes the half of the table near the window, his laptop blocking his face and his headphones covering his ears, while you sit near the aisle, occasionally mistaking your open cup of latte for the small bowls you brought with you containing tap water as you work on your plate due on Monday.

Chan glances over to your work space whenever he reviews his work every 15 minutes, propping an elbow on the table and resting his cheek on his palm, and you take rests from your own work by trying to catch him in the act, giggling when you do and shaking your head when you don’t. 

As an hour passes by, you put your brush down to let your plate dry and look up at Chan as he tests out melodies on his synthesizer, taking a long sip of your latte before asking, “How’s your song?” 

Chan’s eyes widen at the faint hint of your voice, hands traveling up to his headphones and taking them off. “Hm?” 

“I asked how’s it going.” You repeat patiently over your latte. The sweet taste of the coffee brew reminds you of Chan’s coffee order, finding the cappuccino only half-empty in the hour you’ve been in the cafe. 

“Oh, it’s going well.” He answers proudly, eyes alternating between your expectant eyes and his laptop’s screen. “I’m just fixing some mixing issues.”

You nod, looking around the surprisingly organized table. Before Chan could wear his headphones again, you gesture to the counter, “I’m ordering. Do you want anything?” 

He shakes his head in response, wearing his headphones again. “No, thank you, I’ll order later.” 

You purse your lips, standing up from your seat and briefly stretching your arms upwards. “Okay.” You then adjust your denim jacket as it loosely falls on your right shoulder before walking over to the counter. 

“Hello, is there anything you need?” The barista on duty politely asks from brewing an Americano behind the counter. Though the cafe is full today, like you and Chan, most of the customers are only here for the wifi and the work space. 

You skim through the menu once before leaning over the counter and responding, “I’ll have two slices of strawberry shortcake, a banana bread, and the chocolate glazed doughnut, please.” The barista immediately acknowledges it, moving over to the cashier to input your order. “Thank you!” 

You then pay when the she tells you the price, moving over to the display case of desserts and pastries where she then carefully takes your orders. 

You survey the other desserts, pastries, and bottled drinks before your eyes return to Chan across the cafe, catching him leaning over the table and trying to take a peek at your work from his angle, making you giggle once again. 

And as if he heard you, he turns to you, eyes widening briefly at getting caught before awkwardly waving at you. You decide on waving back until the barista presents your order next to the counter, neatly organized on a tray. 

“Thank you again!” You say politely before taking the tray and going back to your table, Chan eyeing all the delicacies the entire time. 

“Stressed much?” He asks, pointing at the two slices of strawberry shortcake. When you look down, only then do you realize that the two slices were placed in one plate with a pair of forks and napkins. “Not that it’s bad to eat a lot, it’s just...a lot of sweets.”

“The other one’s supposed to be for you but I guess the barista thought we’re sharing a plate.” You hand him the chocolate glazed doughnut, thrusting it into his hands when he initially refuses. “You need to eat on time even when it’s just a small amount.” 

“I’ll pay you later,” Chan says after thanking you for the doughnut, reluctantly unwrapping the plastic cover and taking a big bite. “And you can have the cake, it’s fine.” 

“I can’t finish the cake on my own.” You sit down now, taking a bite of the banana bread with one hand while pushing the cake at the center of the table with the other. Chan then politely helps you by placing the tray on the empty space of his share of the table. “Just take the other slice, you don’t have to pay me” 

“But—“

“It’s for offering me a table tonight.” You immediately interject reassuringly. “Please, have the other slice of cake.”

Chan ends up smiling appreciatively at you, picking up one of the forks and cutting a forkful. “...Thank you.” 

You nod, moving your banana bread to your non-dominant hand to pick up your brush and go back to work. “No problem.” You muse, smiling unconsciously at watching Chan stop working altogether to eat. “Like you said, ‘any friend of Seungmin’s a friend of mine too.’”

As you turn back to painting, returning to your unfinished Winter wonderland, you look at Chan again, asking, “Anyway, what do you think?” 

He looks up immediately, his slice of cake almost gone. You quickly clarify, “My plate, I mean.” 

“Oh,” His eyes flicker down to your work again once. “It’s really beautiful. Akita, right?” You nod at his question, letting him continue. “I love the details and the colors—they seem so whimsical and nostalgic, like a childhood memory.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks by the genuine tone of his voice, “Thank you. I hope the professor feels the same way when he sees it.”

“Why Akita?"

“We’re supposed to make a study on nature but I didn’t want to just make something that’s so common around here so I chose this, from a winter trip I won in an art competition last year.” You look down on your work, a flood of memories making your smile wider. “It was the first time I went on a trip alone and it’s abroad so it was a little scary at first but I had a lot of fun.” 

“Really? That sounds cool.” He comments enthusiastically. “It must be fun to travel on your own. I mean, I do too but, sort of; only until I arrive in Australia when I visit my family.” 

Simultaneously, you nod, “It is fun, like it’s one of the things you have to do at one point in your life.” 

“Right, right!” He replies with a chuckle, nodding along still. “I don’t know a lot of people who think the same way so I’m weirdly glad.”  

You spare a glance at Chan, your gaze softening at his genuine expression. When he gives you a questioning look, you answer, “I’m surprised, too; you just seem more like the crowd-type of person.” 

He shrugs. “It’s always fun to be with friends but I think you can enjoy the company of others the best when you’re already comfortable with being on your own.” 

“And are you?” You prod, reaching over for the unused fork and and taking a small piece of your strawberry cake. “Already comfortable with being on your own?” 

He nods with a confident grin. “Yeah, I invited you over, didn’t I?” 

You smile back. “I guess so.” 

8:30 PM

An hour later, you catch Chan stretching his arms upward, leaning back on the seat cushions. You momentarily stop touching up your work, looking up at him with a raised brow, “Break?” 

He nods, stifling a yawn as he brings his hand back down to close his laptop. “Just for 10 minutes.” He gestures over to your work, leaning close to the table. “You should, too, you’ve been working for an hour straight.” 

You glance down at your work, contemplating for a moment before carefully placing your brush to the side and leaning back to your seat as well. “Okay, but just for 10 minutes.” 

You then finish what remains of your latte while Chan organizes the table by gathering all the empty wrappers and your shared plate and cutlery to the tray you used a while back. In response, you take his empty glass. 

“I can take that.” He gestures over to the glasses in your hand with your empty plate while scooting over to the aisle. “Just sit down.” 

You shake your head but place the glass on the tray, standing up almost simultaneously as he does. You then pick up your bowls of paint waiter, holding them up to him. “I’m going to go and change my water.” 

“Oh...okay, then.” The two of you then proceed to the counter where the barista happily takes the tray from Chan’s hands while you dump your dirty paint water in their service sink and replace it with cleaner tap water. 

“Thank you for letting me use your water, again.” You told the barista after Chan offered to carry one of your bowls. 

“It’s no problem!” The barista replies with a dismissive wave and a smile. 

You and Chan then carefully return to your table, placing your bowls on your half of the table. 

Chan checks the time on his phone as he sits down, 8:34 PM. “We still have six minutes, what do you want to talk about?” 

“You’re really keeping check?” You ask in disbelief to Chan who nods with his lips in pursed and his arms folded to his chest as he slides down his seat. “So responsible.” 

“I just thought you might be wary of the time,” He shrugs nonchalantly. “so you can go home early and all, it’s Friday anyway.”

You shake your head, scrunching up your nose, “I don’t have to be somewhere this weekend. All my friends are all busy studying and catching deadlines and Seungmin’s tutoring someone for the entire weekend.”

You decide on busying yourself by scrolling through your Instagram on your phone, glancing over at Chan occasionally as he contemplates on what else to say while opening his laptop again. 

“How do you know Seungmin by the way? If I may ask...?” He settles for such a question when his eyes trail over the customized keychain on your backpack, a photo of you, Seungmin, and your other best friend, Sooyoung, in a Mickey Mouse-shaped frame. “I mean, he talks about you a lot when we hang out but didn’t introduce us until recently so I thought you were dating but he said you aren’t so I’m just...curious.”

When you look up at him, you follow his gaze to your keychain, an amused smile taking over your features. “We’re not dating, just childhood friends but not really close to the point that we know all of the other’s friends.” Unconsciously, your hand finds their way to the keychain, fiddling with them lightly before turning to Chan. “Anyway, even if we just met recently, I’m really happy it’s you and the others he specifically befriended.”

Chan nods with a hum. When he doesn’t speak, you ask him back his question, “How about you? I’m guessing you met through Felix and Jeongin?” 

“Yeah,” He agrees with another nod. “I toured them around campus last year during their orientation.” 

“Aw, you’re in the Orientation Committee?” You coo. Even though it suits his personality, hearing him say it out loud made it somehow more adorable. “That’s so cute! That’s probably why I always hear the Freshmen gossip about you in our studios.” 

His eyes widen at this, pink dusting his cheeks. “W-what?” He stammers, making you laugh. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know.” You shake your head in feign disapproval, crossing your arms for emphasis. “You’re very popular on campus: music major, radio DJ, performs in a rap trio, and I just find out that you’re in the Orientation Committee touring Freshman on the first week? If I was any batch lower, I would’ve swooned over you in my first months here too. Oh? You’re blushing!” 

Chan scoffs, rolling his eyes in an attempt to hide the now prominent blush on his cheeks. “I’m not, I’m not!” He waves his hand dismissively to distract you from the clearly seeing his face. 

“You definitely are!” You point out in between chuckles, sitting up properly when you unconsciously slide down the booth. “Are you not used to getting compliments? Seriously, this is why I didn’t think you’d remember me from earlier: you’re too charming and popular with other students.” 

Internally, he briefly wonders if you’d still swoon over him even when you’re in the same batch but quickly pushes the thought away. “I really don’t think I’m that popular. I’m pretty sure people like Jisung and Changbin more.” He shrugs. “And popular or not, I can remember you anywhere.”

The last sentence immediately makes you stop laughing, your heart skipping a beat at what you think is just a casual statement from him, You come up with a retort, only to be interrupted by a sound alert from Chan’s phone, reminding the two of you that it’s already 8:40 PM. 

“Okay, break’s done!” He exclaims happily, relieved that he can finally get out of this embarrassing conversation. 

You tsk playfully, picking up your brush while Chan opens his laptop again. “I still think you’re very charming and popular, CB97.” You comment before he can tune you out with his music again. “In fact, if someone asked, I’ll have to say that you’re my favorite 3racha member.” 

Chan pretends to increase the volume on his laptop in his flustered state. You catch this, an amused smile forming on your lips. You conclude to yourself that you feel more casual and comfortable around him now that you made him flustered. 

Cute. 

9:30 PM

You’ve been done for quite a while now, having busied yourself in the past 5 minutes in disposing the paint water, cleaning your brushes, and packing your things while your work completely dries. Chan looks up at you from his own work when you return with clean bowls and brushes, his headphones falling down his shoulders. Hesitantly, he asks, “Are you leaving?” 

You sit down first, contemplating on the question as you carefully place your bowls and brushes inside your bag, before opting for a shrug and answering, “I’m too lazy to leave yet.” You then briefly break eye contact to check your phone for the time. “Besides, it’s too early. I can stick around, right?” 

He nods once, lifting his headphones up to his ears again. “Yeah, it’s okay.” 

You give him an appreciative smile, leaning back in your seat and opening your phone to Instagram. Blindly, you reach your backpack pockets for your earphones as well, managing to find them after a while. 

Simultaneously, Chan lifts another glance over to you just as you’re connecting your earphones to your phone. A thought then passes over him, “Do you want to...” He trails off again, just until you return his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want to listen with me?” 

“Wouldn’t we bother everyone else studying?” You ask back in response, your forehead crinkling in confusion as you gesture over to the other remaining customers in the vicinity. 

He quickly pauses his music and takes out what seems to be an adapter that splits into two ports on one end, holding it between the two of you. “You can connect your earphones here, I’ll do the same, then I’ll plug it on my laptop.” He motions to his laptop while taking out his headphones’ audio jack towards the end. “It’s an earphone splitter—for sharing music from one device, basically.” 

“Oh.” You nod along in fascination. You then disconnect your earphones from your phone, plugging it on one of the two ports of the splitter. “Okay, if it’s okay to listen.”

He shrugs reassuringly. “Well, it’s an unreleased track but it’s okay since everyone’s going to hear anyway—just don’t tell Changbin I let you listen to it first before him.” His eyes then widen and his mouth falls slightly agape when you get up from your seat, leaving your earphones on the table, and move to the empty space next to him, picking up your earphones again and placing the buds on your ears. 

You look to your side, raising an eyebrow at his surprised expression, “What?” 

“N-Nothing.” He stammers out, casting his eyes downward to connect his headphones to the splitter’s other port then connecting the splitter itself to his computer. 

You giggle. “I can’t stay in my seat, I’ll get cramps from leaning over the table.”

He pretends to ignore your comment in his flustered state, his mouse hovering over to the very start of the track before pressing play. “Playing now.” 

You slide down the booth comfortably, shoulders jumping slightly at the soft drums and bass that flows into your earphones instead of the usual aggressive percussion and beat that everyone associates with Chan’s rap group. Next to you, Chan props his elbow on the table and rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, pretending to watch the stacked and overlapping tracks’ wavelengths move with the music’s progression while stealing glances in your direction, trying to catch a reaction. 

“What’s the name of this track?” You ask over the music, your voice coming out louder against Changbin’s rap. “Does it have a name already?” 

He unconsciously grasps the fabric of his hoodie with his free hand, holding it up to you. “Hoodie season?” 

You chuckle, a little skeptical. “You sound unsure. Did you come up with that on the spot?”

But he shakes his head, gesturing over to the file name. “It’s the name of the track, seriously.” Internally, he also wonders why he seemed to have hesitated. 

"It’s a fitting name, I guess.” You end up nodding with a hum, eyes lighting up when Jisung begins to sing. “Perfect for the incoming Winter.” 

Jisung then starts rapping after the chorus, surprising you once again. “As expected of Han Jisung.” You clap lightly in satisfaction, a proud smile on your face. “Changbin’s verse was also great. Ah, I can’t wait to hear this live.” 

Chan starts feeling visibly anxious next to you as his verse nears, leg bouncing up and down under the table and his fingers poking into his cheek to the beat of the song, that he blurts out, “We’re performing here before break.”

You look up from the laptop screen to him expectantly. “Really? When? What time?” You ask hurriedly, not wanting to speak over the music in case Chan’s part comes up next. 

“On the Saturday before break, I think?” He answers, eyes glancing back and forth between you and the track. “Saturday night, from what I can remember.” 

The chorus then plays again after Jisung’s verse, making you sit up properly in your seat once again in anticipation for Chan’s verse. “Tickets?” You ask him to the already familiar tune of the chorus. 

“It’s free admission.” He answers, the most anxious now. Why did they have to say I’m their favorite member? He sighs in his head at the very cause of his sudden anxiousness. 

Chan’s verse then plays, your tight-lipped smile turning into a satisfied grin. You don’t say anything more, leaving Chan internally lingering over the question of whether or not you’ll attend the gig. 

“Hey, baby, I’ll make you my lover, ay. I’m thankful that I’m warm in the Autumn, ooh ah, ooh ah, I’ll hold you wherever we go.”

You chuckle somewhere between the lyrics, looking over at Chan in amusement who returns your gaze with a confused look. “You make hoodies sound so romantic.” You comment, answering his unspoken question. “Not that it can’t be, it’s just that you made it sound witty and funny somehow.” 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He asks with genuine concern. The song now ends but you don’t take your earphones out of the splitter and he doesn’t bother as well. 

“It’s a good thing.” You comment, careful of your tone in case you let it slip that you’re totally swooning over him right now. “Plus, this sounds fresh—it’s so different from the songs you usually put out.” 

“Really? Thanks.” He heaves a sigh of relief, smiling more carefree now. 

The two of you don’t speak for a while, not even bothering to take out your earphones. Sitting closer to Chan now, you feel even more lazy to get up and move back to your seat, much less leave and walk to your dorm right outside campus. 

After a while, Chan speaks up again. “Want to listen to something else?” 

You motion over to the track, “Are you done already? I might be interrupting your work.” 

He tilts his head to the side, placing his propped up arm on the table back on his lap as he sits up properly. “It’s pretty much done, just needs a little tweaking on the mixing. I can do that later.” For emphasis, he saves the track and exits the software, the screen displaying his files folder. “Come on, choose a song.” 

You scoot closer to him, your leg brushing against his now as you lean closer to the screen while he slowly scrolls down the files for you. “Oh, play WOW, that one’s funny.” 

Chan frowns. “Not that one, please.” 

In retaliation, you quickly swipe the mouse from him and play the track, laughing maniacally as the familiar intro skit begins to play. 

“Oh God.” Chan groans in embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands.

But he lets the music anyway. Though he’s feeling very embarrassed, all these feelings are immediately forgotten with seeing you enjoying yourself.   

10:40 PM

The barista passes by your table to remind you kindly that the cafe is closing in a while. Only then do you realize that, besides her, it’s just you and Chan in the cafe now, having spent the last hour going through Chan’s laptop. 

“Ah, time passed by really quickly.” Chan muses as he finishes packing up his laptop then slings his backpack on his shoulder. You stand on the aisle, backpack on one shoulder while your laptop and sketchbook are tucked neatly on one arm reminiscent of when you came in, as you watch and wait for him quietly. 

“It sure did.” You nod when he turns to face you, walking you to the door now. He opens the door for you again, chuckling when you tried beating him to it. “Oh, that reminds me, we only ate sweets a while ago.” 

Chan hums in acknowledgement, catching up to you after closing the door behind him. Now, the campus oval is illuminated by yellow street lights, white building lights, and the occasional passing car against the dark night sky, a complete contrast from when you were outside hours ago. Besides the two of you, there’s barely any people outside anymore as well. 

“Chan?” You tilt your head so that you have a better view of his face while walking, catching him off-guard in his dazed state. 

“Yeah?” He blinks twice, embarrassed that he accidentally drowned you out. “Sorry, I zoned out.” 

“You look like you fell asleep for a second there. I asked if you wanted to get a late dinner.” You repeat your question with a chuckle, facing the sidewalk ahead now. You see the library still open at this time from up ahead, half-empty from the view on the clear windows now that it’s nearing midnight. “My dorm’s across the West entrance and there’s a 24-hour grill on the corner of our street.” 

“Oh...sure, sure,” Chan replies, suddenly realizing that he’s hungry again. “We can just eat at my dorm up ahead on the South side, though, it’s nearer.”

“In your dorm?” You raise an eyebrow teasingly. 

“Yeah?” He replies back in an unsure manner before quickly realizing how he seemed to have come off. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that! We have a common area with a kitchen. I’ll cook for you, don’t worry!” 

You nod in agreement just as you pass the intersection leading to the East entrance, laughing at the way his eyes crinkle in embarrassment. “I was just joking, sure, let’s go to your dorm.”

Chan sighs next to you, awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck with his free hand. Such a tease. “Our pantry’s just ramen and canned food, though, so don’t raise your expectations too much.” He warns you lightly once he’s recovered from being a flustered mess. 

“Seungmin says you cook fine, though,” You counter. “so I’m still having these expectations.” 

You reach his dorm after 10 more minutes, Chan walking ahead as you walk up the steps of the entrance so he can open the door for you for the third time this evening and lead you into the common area kitchen. You catch sight of a few familiar faces in the dim light of the lounge area, mostly younger students from your department raving over an action movie playing on the big flat screen and Jisung and Changbin who greet you with knowing smiles on their faces before you disappeared into the kitchen. 

“Are they always glad to see people?” You gesture over to Jisung and Changbin behind you from the wide open doorway as you and Chan leave your things by an empty bench. You briefly turn around to look at them once again, catching them wiggling their eyebrows at Chan before they notice you looking and waving at you with sarcastically sweet smiles in return. “It’s just that...they’re smiling really weird.”

You then turn back around to see Chan a few steps ahead of you shoot the two younger boys an annoyed look, shooing them away with his hand when they lean over the lounge sofa they occupy to have a better look of you and Chan, before turning to you again and laughing nervously, “They’re just being weird, ignore them.” 

“Okay?” You nod, quickly dismissing the thought, before sitting down on the dining table as Chan proceeds to open the nearby refrigerator, passing you a pitcher of water and two glasses. 

He then moves over to the overhead cabinets to your left, examining its contents once before turning to you, “Chicken, beef, or jajangmyeon?” 

“Jajangmyeon, please.” You answer happily as you pour water on the two glasses in front of you. “I can’t believe Bang Chan of 3racha is making me ramen on a Friday night.” 

“Stop teasing me.” He scoffs playfully, taking out four packets of jajangmyeon and opening another cabinet for a clean pot and ladle. He glances over to you slyly over his shoulder, looking away immediately when he catches you taking off your denim jacket to place on your chair behind you. 

You take a sip of the cold water, the sensation making you feel refreshed after hours of working. “Bang Chan of 3racha offered me a work table, called my art pretty, let me listen to an unreleased song, and is now cooking for me—and this is the first time we talked without our mutual friend Seungmin.” You continue teasing him anyway, more as an attempt to distract yourself from the fact that he does look very handsome cooking even with your limited view. “I take back what I said a while ago, I’m definitely swooning right now.” 

Though your tone is casual and playful, Chan can’t find it in himself to fight the blush creeping up his cheeks and the way his hands shake slightly while cooking jajangmyeon. “I’ll burn your share of the jajangmyeon.” 

He hears you laugh behind him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

11:30 PM

You’re presented with a steaming bowl of jajangmyeon along with a few quick side dishes after 10 minutes of scrolling through your Twitter with the dorm’s guest wifi. You thank Chan as you pick up your chopsticks, eating when he does as he sits right across from you. 

“Oh, this is really really good!” You comment after a bite, eyes bright and hands clasping together in satisfaction once again. “I don’t usually trust Seungmin but he is right, you cook well.” 

Chan narrows his eyes at you, his lips unconsciously forming a pout as he chews. “You tease me then turns out you’ve been doubting my cooking skills this whole time.” 

His expression makes you laugh in between big bites of your late dinner. “I meant to say after that what Seungmin said was an understatement, you’re not just fine you’re great so stop pouting!” You take a sip of water after swallowing your fourth bite, your gaze softening to a more sincere expression now. “Anyway, thank you for making me dinner.” 

He smiles shyly now, quickly eating his food to reply, “You bought me cake and a doughnut and kept me company tonight so thank you, too.” 

You take more sips of water as you slowly finish half your bowl before replying, “If I thank you again for offering me a table then we’d go on thanking each other the whole night.” 

He laughs, nodding wholeheartedly in agreement. “Let’s just say thank you at the same time and be done with it.” 

“Right.” You agree. “So, thank you for everything tonight.” 

“Same...thank you for tonight.” He then takes a sip of water before suddenly standing up, catching your attention. “There’s more jajangmyeon in the pot, do you want some more?” 

“Yes, thank you!” 

12:20 AM 

You hold your used silverware tightly as you walk over to the sink, making sure Chan doesn’t snatch them from you and accidentally break them or wash them on his own. 

“Just let me do this since you cooked.” You argue for the fifth time since your conversation shifted from the most random of topics to determining who washes the plates, successfully placing the silverware on the sink almost at the same time as Chan does so. When he tries to gently move you out of the way, you stay firmly on your spot by holding the kitchen counter. “Besides, it’s just one set of plates.” 

“You’re in my dorm so let me wash the plates.” He protests for the second time as well while trying to swat your hands away. After two tries, he successfully moves you to the side, passing you a random packet of biscuits from the overhead cabinet to occupy yourself with. “You don’t have to make things even with us, we’re just hanging out casually.” 

You frown, opening the packet and eating a biscuit anyway. “Still, if someone cooked the other should wash the plates, that’s how it goes.” 

“That’s how it goes only when it’s a date.” He mumbles under his breath, not really expecting that you would catch it. 

“A date?” 

Quickly, he waves his hand dismissively at you. "Nothing. Seriously, it’s fine.” He smiles at you reassuringly, eventually feeling relieved when you don’t tease him further. “Anyway, it’s been a long night and you still have to walk back to your dorm after this so just rest over there.” 

You look down on your biscuits, a thought suddenly coming into mind. “Have a biscuit, then.”

“No, just eat it.” 

“Come on.” You hold up a biscuit to his face as he busies himself with scrubbing the plates and glasses. When he look your way or open his mouth, you poke his lips with the end of the biscuit. “Seriously, eat the biscuit!”

You see him trying to stifle a laugh as you continue poking around his lips with the biscuit, making you laugh as well. Moving away so you don’t take it as an opportunity, he replies, “If I eat this biscuit, will you let me walk you to the West gate? It’s late and dark out.”

You contemplate on this for a moment, your hand stopping in midair. Chan takes this as an opportunity to take a small bite of the biscuit, “Hey, you bit it already!” 

He nods, leaning his head to your hand when you try retracting it then taking another bite. “Yeah, so can I walk you home then call it finally even.” 

You sigh, letting him eat the whole biscuit in your hand. “Okay.” 

“You wouldn’t feel like you need to repay me again after, okay?” 

“Only if you don’t.” 

“Deal.” He concludes, finally turning to look at you while he rinses the soap off the glasses. “Can I have another one?” 

You take out another biscuit, initially extending it over to him before quickly putting it in your mouth before he can even take a bite. “Just kidding, you get the next one.” You mumble while taking out another biscuit, giving it to him this time when he’s done drying his hands, frowning. 

“You’re so mean.” He comments, taking the biscuit from your hand. 

“That’s what you signed up for when you decided on befriending me tonight.” You point out with a laugh, crumpling the wrapper and throwing it in the proper trash bin. 

“Anyway, aren’t you tired? Should we go now?” He changes the topic after a while, walking over to the bench where you left your things. 

You follow him, taking your jacket from the chair you previously occupied on the way. “Yeah before the RA kills me.” 

He laughs. “Strict?”

“Not used to me staying out at this hour.” You correct, pointing at your bag when he picks it up and slings it over his shoulder. “You don’t have to.” 

“This is what you signed up for when you agreed to let me walk you back.” He throws your comeback at you this time as he takes your laptop and sketchbook. “Come on, before your RA kills you.” 

With a defeated sigh, you follow Chan out, almost missing the way Jisung and Changbin follow the two of you with curious eyes as you pass by the lounge once again. 

“Do you think...” Jisung asks Changbin, not even needing to finish his question to get it across as Changbin fervently nods. 

“I think so too.” Changbin replies, taking out his phone. “Should we tell Seungmin?”

12:50 AM

Eventually you reach the West gate. You stop on the side of the overpass, making Chan stop walking as well. 

“I can walk on my own from here, it’s okay.” You smile reassuringly up at him. “Thanks for walking me all the way here again.” 

He shakes his head, not showing any hint of letting go of your things. “I can walk you to your dorm entrance, though.” 

You gesture over to your dorm building with an amused laugh, “It’s literally right next to the other end of the overpass. I don’t want you walking back with an extra distance.” When his skeptical look doesn’t fade away, you sigh but with an appreciative smile. “If you’re worried so much, you can just watch me from here then I’ll wave at you from the other side.” 

After a moment, he finally gives in, handing you your belongings then stepping back so you can go up the overpass stairs. “Okay, okay.”

Such a gentleman, you muse internally to yourself as you take a step up the stairs, still facing him. “Goodnight, Chan.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He returns the greeting to you, hesitating on the last minute to give you a hug like he would do with his close friends. That’s too weird you just talked today, he reminds himself.  

You pretend not to notice the way he almost extended his arms out for a hug, secretly feeling shy yourself. “I’ll see you when I see you?” 

“How about the gig before break?” He asks, another question lingering in his mind but he decides on not asking it as a follow-up. 

You nod in agreement, “I’ll be there, of course, you mentioned it a while ago.”

You’re about to turn around and walk up the overpass at noticing that he doesn’t show any sign of wanting to say anything else when you suddenly hear him ask behind you, “How about on a nearer date?” which makes you turn back around to face him. “How about—tomorrow?”

Shrugging as if nonchalantly, you ask back, “What about it?” 

He hesitates again for a while before taking a small step forward so he’s looking up at you now from the bottom of the stairs. “Do you want to hang out tomorrow, if you’re free that is.” 

You feel your heart flutter ever so slightly at this but you quickly force yourself to ignore it. “That doesn’t sound too fun.” 

“What?” He frowns in genuine disappointment, almost making your teasing gaze soften. 

“I meant where’s the fun in tonight if we meet again soon?” You clarify. “Just wait until your gig next week!” 

He opens his mouth to speak but you’re already walking backwards up the stairs, adding, “And don’t try looking for me in the Fine Arts building, you should know I hide around there well! Goodnight, Chan! Thank you for tonight!” 

With a final smile his way, you finally turn around and walk up the overpass, glancing over to him again when you reach the very top and begin crossing the bridge. As the two of you agreed, he remained by the side of the overpass, watching you carefully even when there’s barely any people on the bridge anymore. 

In under a minute, you’ve reached the halfway mark of the other stairway where you can still see Chan clearly amidst the never-ending flow of cars. You raise a hand above your head, waving to him until he waves back.

Since you’re so far away, you miss the way Chan sighs before sending a dimpled smile your way. He contemplates on asking Seungmin more about you later. 

With that, you then proceed back to your dorms, disappearing from Chan’s sight when you enter your dorm building. He takes that as his cue to head back to his own dorm. 

“Next Saturday’s too far.” He huffs in frustration, sparing one last glance in the direction of your dorm building before passing through the West gate once again. 

Nevertheless, he can’t help but feel excited at the prospect of talking to you again. 

1:00 AM

Chan arrives back in the dorm building, immediately bombarded by Jisung and Changbin who hold his belongings with teasing looks. 

“So you were with Y/N, huh?” Jisung starts, hugging Chan’s laptop to his chest tightly. “Why were you two together?” 

Chan raises an eyebrow, not really knowing where this ‘interrogation’ is going. “I bumped into them at the library when it was full so I offered we share a table at 325.” 

“That’s all?” Changbin asks this time, his arms crossed in front of his chest while Chan’s backpack hangs loosely on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, that’s all,” Chan nods slowly, eyebrows furrowing now. “Why? And why do you have my backpack.”

The two younger boys shake their head at the same time. 

“Oh, nothing.” Jisung dissmises with a small wave. “Just curious.”

As if on cue, Chan’s phone rings its message alert. 

seungmin: SO I HEARD U WENT OUT ON A DATE W Y/N [sent 1:04 AM]

[taelme]

Enemies-to-lovers!Jisung

request:  - anon: Could you maybe write an enemies to lovers like the Chan one but with jisung?? It was so good 😔😔😭🥺💞💞💖💘💘💞💗💞💗💕💞 can it be fluffy and Angsty hehe 😖 maybe where they're both college students -  anon: Can you do a Enemies to Lovers AU with chan!!! Where they're going to college and their families happen to be friends so they get an apartment together to save money, but the first time they meet it doesn't go well. Then yk, slowly w time they fall in love ahhaha... I love your writings btw!! 💓💞💓💝💓💞💓💝 (I recently sent the ask about the enemies to lovers au w chan that involved going to college.. since you literally just wrote an enemies to lovers au for chan if you want you can do my request (if u do it ahahha) with jisung!!)  - anon: I really love how you write au’s/fanfictions. I just want to know if u can write something about han jisung?? maybe a cafe love story or another tattoo artist just like chan? or maybe a studio date night?

genre: enemies-to-lovers!au, college!au, roommate!au, tattoo apprentice!jisung lol (fluff, a bit of angst) 

pairing/s: Han Jisung / Reader ( ft skz Bang Chan and nct/wayv/superm (lmao)  Lucas )

word count: 18k 

tw: I talk about like kind of sad stuff when jisung has like an artist’s block in this I guess 

a/n: thank u anons for being so patient with this request!! I rly hope that I managed to do it well and that you guys are satisfied with the outcome n have fun reading it hehe, it was kind of inspired by the song sunshine!! by stray kids so I hope that it gives u the same good vibes I got from the song while writing this :( ok bye 

If it were any other person standing in front of you, maybe you wouldn’t have regretted having an outburst in the café for the morning crowd to see.

The fight, or outburst (if you wanted to relieve him of any role in the exchange), had started rather simply. You were just having one of those days where it was raining outside, you were awake even before roosters were (in your opinion) and you had wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and sleep into the evening.

You had gone to grab your morning coffee, combating against the rain with your multi-coloured umbrella, as one does. Shoving the doors of the café open, you were met with shouts of names and storms of people squeezing to collect their orders. The whole ordeal would’ve made you pretty at ease if it weren’t for the coldness of your feet and the way your umbrella would cause someone to slip soon if you didn’t move.

Your shoes squelched against the shiny wood floors of the café, each step making you cringe as you waited anxiously to reach the front of the line, desperate to put an end to this experience. Thankfully enough, your order was pretty straightforward, so you’d collected it quickly, the small smiley face drawn on the cup by the staff serving to put you in a slightly less dreadful mood.

Stationing yourself at one of the empty tables you’d spotted by the exit, you set your still-dripping umbrella on the floor before you tried to get your tissues out to salvage whatever you could of your shoes. Shrugging off your coat, you’d draped it over the back of the seat.

Glancing at the time on your phone before you shoved your notes aside within your bag, you’d pushed your arm forward and opened your bag harshly, taking your box file out of your bag, almost nicking yourself against the broken corner of the file in your rush.

The next sequence of events happened quickly, and too ‘all-at-once’ for you to process. Upon taking out your box file, you’d heard a yelp behind you, followed by harsh footsteps and the splash of coffee on your box file.

Letting out a loud yelp of surprise as the person in question had stopped their fall with a loud thud of their hands against the pillar in front of you, they’d turned to you with wide-eyes, their eyebrows quickly furrowing into an expression that looked utterly ticked-off, their mouth already opening to speak.

You’d seemed to beat them to it, hurriedly grabbing your tissues to wipe down your file, checking for any brown-stains on your precious papers.

“What the hell,” you scoffed, casting a glance up at the boy. He had stood slightly taller than you, with rounded eyes and a defined nose, his lips pressed into a firm line.

He looked fairly young, from the way he dressed in brand-name basics to the way he was practically decked out in accessories. Call you biased, but if this was a senior or a child, you’d probably have let them off with it. But the way he was looking at you now was somehow successfully unnerving you, and you supposed admiring his annoyed features was about the last thing you should be doing at the moment.

“‘What the hell’?” He echoed your words, “who’s the one that chose to stand in the middle of nowhere to go through their damned bag?”

Your eyebrows raised in offence, your annoyance from before making itself known as you frowned, your grip on your bag tightening, “oh, and it’s my fault you have poor coordination?”

The boy had narrowed his eyes, mirroring your expression, his bracelets shifting on his wrist as he gestured at your umbrella on the floor.

“Your stupid umbrella was the reason I tripped in the first place,” he told you pointedly, strangely making you even more annoyed that he chose to attack not only you but your innocent umbrella too.

Your volume raised involuntarily with your frustration, “it’s so bright! It was basically screaming at you that it was there,” you defended, attracting a few customers attention with your outburst. You didn’t understand why you had to go through this so early in the morning when you were already irritable beyond belief.  

The boy seemed to have noticed this as well, discomfort washing over him at the feeling of the crowd’s stares. Ultimately deciding he would rather give up the fight with the crazy stranger from the café and leave before he was late for his job at the tattoo studio.

“Whatever,” he huffed, leaving the café, the bells at the doors jingling loudly as it swung back.

Something about the apology just wasn’t enough for you, (maybe you just expected more because he irked you) but you were already late enough for class. Rolling your eyes, you’d slung your bag around your shoulder with a thump, gripping your cup in your hands tightly and picking your umbrella (that now had an evident crease in one of its panels) up before running to class.

Your mom had called you halfway through the day while you were on your way to classes, the gesture enough to make you huff good-naturedly at her insistence.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey, is this a good time?” her tone was practically dripping with motherly concern, making you let out a breathy laugh, nodding even though she couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, It’s fine,” you told her, “but anyway, I think my umbrella’s broken. Some idiot at the café this morning practically destroyed it with their stupid combat boots.”

Your mom didn’t seem to pay much attention to your rant, cutting straight to the point that she’d called you for.

“Have you met Jisung yet?”

You sighed as you entered the auditorium for your next lecture, lowering your head slightly as you found a seat around the middle of the hall.

“No, not yet. I’m only going over to the house after my classes end, remember? But I heard my stuff already got moved there,” you explained to her, holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you took your laptop from your bag, setting it on the table gently.

“Oh, do you want his phone number? To make things easier for the both of you,” she offered, earning a disinterested hum from you.


Your mom was more than excited about the fact that you would be 1. Not living in a residence within the school and 2. Living with the son of one of her friends from college. You figured your duty as her child now would be to appease her and at least try to live out her desires for you. Which in this case was sharing an apartment alone with some boy you didn’t even know. Maybe your mom was just a little more trusting than most.

You shrugged, “yeah, sure, just send it to me.”

Your mom let out a squeal, “I’m so excited for you to meet him, honey, he’s such a nice boy. You two are sure to get along. I’m so happy you agreed to this.”

Letting out a small sigh, you leant back in your seat as you held your phone with one hand, your other hand going to unlock your computer.

“I still feel like I’m imposing on them,” you hummed.

“Honey, it’s fine, Jisung’s parents insisted that you didn’t have to pay any rent.”

You hummed patronisingly, it wasn’t as if it was the first time she was telling you this, “yeah, uh-huh,” your attention was momentarily diverted by the tall boy that was standing next to you, gesturing to the empty seat with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry, is there anyone sitting here?”

Your lips parted, “okay, mom I gotta go I’ll call you once I’ve settled into the apartment.”

You did a once-over of the boy, who shook his head to get his bangs away from his eyes, giving you a wide smile. Gesturing for him to go ahead and sit down, he’d flopped down onto the seat with a sigh.

Letting go of his bag strap as he turned around, he gave you an appreciative nod as he opened his bag, pulling out a notebook and pen.

“First day, huh,” his voice was deeper than you’d remembered it to be from just seconds ago, his hand coming up to cover his growing smile as a little giggle escaped him, “I’m Lucas.”

“How’d you know?” You hummed, “and my name’s Y/N.” You swore you’d never seen a boy with such sparkly eyes before in your life.

Lucas shrugged, leaning his folded arms on the desk and turning his head slightly to observe you in your confusion, one hand shifting to play with his earring, “haven’t seen you around before.”

“You talk like you know everyone in the school,” you scoffed.  

Lucas didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm, simply giving you a shrug, “possibly. And also because it’s my second time taking this stupid class so I should know an unfamiliar face when I see one,” he told you, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Your eyebrows raised, hearing the doors at the bottom of the auditorium open, a short stocky man walking through and making his way to the speaker’s desk.

“Second time? Why?” You hummed, keeping your gaze on the man in anticipation for what he was about to say.

Lucas cast a glare towards the professor, “I thought he was boring so I didn’t really go much for his lectures the last time, you know, because I thought they weren’t graded. But he decided to include them as passing criteria way too late.”

Lucas pointed at the professor, his sleeve riding up slightly to expose a tattoo at his wrist. You were starting to wonder if everyone at this place had tattoos, the sight seeming fairly common from just your few hours in the school.

You winced, nodding, already getting the sensing that this man was someone you needed to be on good terms with.

“Alright, class, enough talking. From now on, I’m the only one that should be talking so I expect nothing but your full attention from here onwards.”

This was going to be a long lecture.

===

Your mom had texted you the Jisung kid’s number, and you’d dropped him a text saying you were on your way to the apartment, getting a reply from him that he was on his way there as well. You figured he seemed pretty polite, from the way he texted you, so you guessed that helped in making you dread the whole arrangement less.

When you’d reached, you’d ended up at an apartment building that looked fairly plain, walking in to the lobby and scanning the sparsely decorated notice board for residents, the last thing put up being a picnic for families that was 3 months ago.

Stepping into the lift, you’d noticed that though it was relatively well-maintained, it seemed rather dull, from the prison-grey lights to how the mirrors were covered for maintenance. Thankfully, your apartment itself was relatively well-maintained (you remembered your mom telling you the apartment was previously being rented out by Jisung’s parents), aside from the space being a little not-so conducive. But well, they were letting you live here for free, so you couldn’t complain.

Setting your things down onto the sofa in the living room, you moved to examine the respective rooms, frowning when you realised that whoever Jisung was, he’d taken the room with the bigger bed, his clothes either already hung up on the clothing rack or stacked up on his bed.

Walking into what you assumed was your room now, you tried to envision how you could make this space more conducive. From moving the bed aside to switching the desk out to the living room for more light, you tried out different permutations in your head, your time as an amateur interior designer cut short when you heard the rustling of keys at the front door.

Smoothing your hair down to make sure it was neat, you’d dodged the boxes of stuff as you leant over the sofa, curious to see what this Jisung kid would look like.

Jisung had done the same outside the door, making sure his hair and clothes were somewhat presentable before pushing the door open. And immediately wanting to close it back.

“You’re Jisung?”

“You’re Y/N?”

The two of you spoke simultaneously, disbelief and shock written over your features as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

Like you mentioned before, maybe if the boy at the café this morning wasn’t Jisung, you would’ve regretted your actions a lot less.

Jisung gave you a look of disbelief, stepping into the apartment and folding his arms across his chest, his bag still hanging from his shoulder. He couldn’t wrap his head around how unlucky he must have been to have had such a bad encounter with someone he was about to spend probably his entire college life living with.

He sighed deeply, “now I don’t feel like paying the rent on your behalf anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, “your parents are paying the rent, not you. You have no say in it.”

Jisung made a sound of protest, shaking his head vigorously, his eyes widening in his aggravation.

“No, they aren’t. I told them to let me take care of it because I felt bad for them. But I don’t feel bad for you, so you’re gonna have to split the rent with me.”

Your lips parted, fumbling for a response.

Jisung’s expression was expectant, provoking you almost, “what? Would you rather get an apartment on your own? ‘Cause I’d be more than happy to let my parents know.”

You wanted to cry. It was already the start of the school term so staying in the dorms was out of the question for you already, the deadline having closed long ago. And you knew that finding another apartment in the school district that was within your budget was going to be a pain in the ass. So as much as you hated to admit it, splitting the rent with Jisung was your best option. You needed to get a job asap.

You rolled your eyes, “well…well then why do you get the bigger room?” You huffed, mirroring his stance as you folded your arms across your chest.

Jisung gave you a mocking pout, “simple, ‘cause I got here first,” he brought his hand up, inspecting his nails.

“You should be glad I’m not charging you extra for inconveniencing me,” he added.

Not being able to help but let a small gasp leave you, you were quick to respond, “inconveniencing you? You were the one that got coffee all over my file.”

Jisung shrugged, “potato, potato. Doesn’t change the fact that you made me late for work.”

You clenched your jaw, watching with a glare as he strolled past you, gesturing to the space in the living room which you’d been planning on using as a work area, “I have dibs on this space.”

You frowned, mumbling, “I wanted to shift the desk in my room out here, though.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Wanna consider moving out now?”

You inhaled deeply, brushing past him to grab your luggage that contained your clothes.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you huffed in annoyance as you walked into your room, his laughter echoing behind you.

===

“How can you say that? Jisung is a very nice boy,” your mother cried, making you roll your eyes, glaring at your phone from where you were hanging your clothes up.

“He’s the idiot that I fought with at the café, it’s not like I’m saying this without reason.”

You heard your mom sigh deeply, conversing with your dad about something in the background, “try to put your attitude aside for once, please, I’m begging you.”

You groaned, kicking your luggage aside before you made your way over to your bed, flopping down next to your phone with a loud sigh, wincing at the feeling of the springs in your mattress. You were so sure Jisung’s bed was more comfortable.

“It’s not me that has the attitude, it’s him,” you mumbled, sulkiness evident in your tone.

“Enough, Y/N," she said sternly, "If I hear anymore complaints you’re really gonna be in for it.”

You kicked at your blanket, “fine, goodnight. Love you.”

You hung up, staring at your desk as you contemplated on whether to move it into the living room now or tomorrow, distracted from your thoughts when you could hear the water running, not to mention the awfully loud sound of Jisung singing in the shower.

How thin were the walls? Your glare had shifted to your door now.

“Can you keep it down?” You shouted, hearing a silence on his end momentarily. Heaving a sigh of relief, you turned around in your bed only to hear him resume his singing, except this time, you swore it got louder.

Burying your head under your pillow, you kicked at your blanket, hoping this was the worst it could get. It wasn’t that bad, right? You could deal with simple shower concerts. Maybe living with him wasn’t going to be as hard as you thought.

===

Safely to say, you should’ve thought otherwise.  

The very first time you realised you'd underestimated Han Jisung, was when you'd gone to the fridge to fix yourself something for dinner, only to find post-its on every single one of the items that read : 'property of han jisung! not for y/n'

You'd moved to look for something else to eat that was unlabelled, only realising then that he'd even gone to the (very petty) extent of labelling the snacks in the cupboard.  

Huffing, you'd shrugged your coat on, grabbed your wallet and made a trip to the grocery store.

Cursing him in your head as you shoved your items into your basket, earning yourself looks of scandal from the elders who were for whatever reason still in the grocery store, though you couldn’t be bothered to look more amiable. You’d wanted nothing more than to throw out Jisung’s groceries, but of course, you were a nice person, so you wouldn’t do that. It seemed like you just couldn't get a break when your phone had begun to buzz in your pocket.

"Hey, mom," you hummed, trying not to sound too tired lest she started to drill you about resting. You brought your groceries over to the self-checkout aisle, heaving them onto the small platform with a grunt.

"Have you eaten dinner?"

You huffed, "we didn't have enough food, so I went to buy some groceries." Biting back your tongue, you rolled your eyes, scanning your items and bagging them angrily.

"How's finding a job been?"

You shrugged, Lucas had told you about various job openings nearby your house, (surprising you with how much he knew about the area) one of them you were looking into was a simple job at a café near your apartment. Thankfully, not the one that you'd had your little ‘encounter’ with Jisung at.

"Pretty alright, nothing too difficult,” you hummed, fumbling to pull out your card so you could make your payment, ignoring the stares you were getting from the people queueing up behind you.

"Alright, that's good to hear."

"Everything alright with you and dad at home?" you asked, shoving your card back into your wallet before slinging the bags onto your forearms, beginning to walk out of the supermarket.

"Yes, of course. Don't worry about us, we just miss you."

You sighed, something about the night air putting you in a drowsy mood, "me too. I never realised how much I liked living with you guys till now..."

"Don't tell me you're still having a hard time with Jisung," you heard her tone, your knew that this was her way of implying she didn't want to hear anything other than that you and Jisung's housemate experience was just peachy.

"Don't worry, mom, everything's... fine."

You'd tugged your coat closer to yourself, giving her whatever updates you figured she'd want to know before hanging up, enjoying the peaceful walk before you reached your apartment, figuring this was as much peace you were going to get before you returned to the apartment to be met with his stupid antics again.

And surely enough, the evening breeze accompanied with the sounds of faint conversation from the restaurants nearby had started to put you in a rather drowsy mood, making you start to contemplate if you were even still hungry, the lure of sleep starting to seem more tempting.

Reaching your apartment building, the lift lobby illuminated by a harshly bright lightbulb, you’d bumped into one of the ladies living on the same floor as you exited the lift on your floor, watching as her eyes widened in surprise, giving you a small smile as she enquired.

“Oh, are you the resident from apartment 19B?" you nodded.

If you were drowsy before, you sure weren't drowsy anymore.

You flinched slightly when her expression had changed in an instant, her once amiable expression now replaced with an annoyed glare.

"Can you please refrain from singing so loudly in the middle of the night? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Your eyebrows raised, shaking your head as you slot your keys into the keyhole, opening the door just a crack, "oh, sorry, that's not me that's my housemate—”

The middle-aged lady had narrowed her eyes at you, "you know, It's not ethical for someone as young as you to be living with a man when you're so young—”

"Okay, sorry, won't happen again!" you told her quickly in your attempt to appease her, shoving the door open and slamming it behind you, turning around only to see Jisung standing in the living room, dressed in loungewear with black gloves on his hands as he pointed at you in amusement, his shoulders shaking as he laughed.

"Aw, I'm not the only one that thinks it's not ethical for you to live here," he pouted.

You rolled your eyes, "I can't believe she thought I was the one singing," you huffed, going over to the kitchen to see yet more dishes in the sink.

Pointing at them with a look of disbelief on your face, "are you not gonna clean these either?"

Jisung turned around, looking at the sink with evident contempt, shrugging. He held his hands up to you, showing you that they were currently gloved.

"I'm a little busy, why don't you do me a favour this once? Consider it compensation," he grinned, making his way back to....your room?

"What are you doing in my room?" you asked, shoving the last of your groceries haphazardly into the fridge before you'd followed him into your room, shutting your mouth quickly when you saw that he’d practically set up a work station next to your desk, looking closer to find that he was using what looked like tattoo equipment.

“Practicing,” he shrugged.

You didn’t bother asking what his business using tattoo equipment was, simply huffing in exasperation, “and you had to do it in my room, of all places?”

Jisung nodded, pushing one of his sleeves up on his shoulder, revealing a rather big tattoo on his arm that was partially hidden by his sleeve.

“This is the only room with an accessible plug and a good enough space to work in.”

“Then why didn’t you just take this room as your bedroom?” You were dumbfounded at the way he was so nonchalant about his actions, the buzzing of the tattoo needle resuming as he practised on fake skin.

“I like to sleep in a comfortable bed,” he shrugged, leaning back to look at his tattoo.

“And you think I don’t?” You shot back, your hands going to your hips, his reply coming just as quick.

“Well, for $300 bucks above the rent maybe you can,” he smirked, using a tissue to rub at the fake skin, looking at you as he poked his tongue in his cheek, quirking his eyebrows before turning back to continue tattooing.

That night, you remembered asking Lucas if he knew who Jisung was, since he’d mentioned how he was pretty into tattoos, having a few of his own, his reply only making you wonder if the world was just small or you were just unlucky.

lucas wong

8:53pm - oh yeah I know him! he’s apprentice-ing at the tattoo shop I usually go to, he’s pretty good-

8:53pm - why? do u like him? I cld put in a good word for u-

You sighed deeply

8:53pm - no thanks im good-

Little did you know, the next time Lucas had visited the the tattoo studio, he’d spotted Jisung working on his designs at one corner of the room, going against your request and disturbing Jisung even despite how he looked like that was the last thing he wanted, too focused on the shadings of his chrysanthemum flower sketch on his tablet to have paid attention to Lucas' entrance.

“Hey, do you know anyone named Y/N?”

Jisung’s face scrunched up in distaste, looking up at Lucas and hoping desperately that he was joking, “don’t tell me… freshman Y/N?”

Lucas nodded, his eyes lighting up in excitement, “yeah! So you guys do know each other.”

Jisung made an uncertain sound, “I wouldn’t call it much of a relationship. Y/N’s my housemate.”

Jisung’s words had sparked a realisation in Lucas, the latter only piecing together your disdain towards Jisung with your stories about your ‘asshole housemate’

Lucas’ silence had caught Jisung off guard, making Jisung look up at Lucas expectantly, “sorry, you wanted to go get something to eat, right?”

Lucas nodded, masking his shock with a smile, recovering quickly.

“Wait, lemme go call Chan,” Jisung murmured, beckoning the boy who was currently snacking at the reception area.

“Where do you guys wanna go?” Lucas asked, earning a hum from Chan.

“I kinda wanted to get a smoothie,” Chan admitted sheepishly, though thankfully, Jisung and Lucas didn’t seem to have a problem with that.


“Why didn’t you wanna go to the other café? They’ve got better smoothies,” Lucas wondered out loud, making Jisung snort.

“We’re only going there because Chan has a fat crush on one of the baristas.” 


Which was what ended them up at the café you worked at.

The moment they had entered, you noticed your colleague tense beside you, bending down to pretend to take something from below the counter. 


“Shit, they’re here. Oh my god, help,”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “who?”

“That cute tattoo artist guy I was telling you about!” She whispered harshly, standing up and greeting the boys with a smile, her heart eyes directed particularly at one of them with curly hair.

Only then did you realise Lucas and Jisung were there, receiving an overwhelming feeling of wanting to bang your head into the cash register. You already saw him enough at home, and now you had to see him at work too?

“Hi, how may I help you?” You smiled at the curly haired boy, casting a glare in Jisung’s direction, the boy looking equally as dismayed to see you here.

“Hello, can I get the berry smoothie?” He asked, and you stepped aside, letting your colleague ring up his order while you prepared his drink, giving it to your colleague to serve since she’d spent so long talking to him.

Lucas had mouthed a ‘sorry’ to you when he’d gone to sit at one of the tables with Chan, Jisung lingering at the cashier as your colleague went to the backroom to squeal.

“What do you want?” you wore a bored expression.

Jisung looked almost too focused, his eyes glaring at the laminated menu between the both of you.

“I changed my mind, I want a drink too.”

You suppressed your urge to roll your eyes, your finger scratching at the corner of the cash register, “you couldn’t have ordered it like five seconds ago?”

Jisung shot you a look, “yeah, well I didn’t want it five seconds ago.”

Inhaling deeply, you’d gestured to the menu, and now not only was your expression bored-to-death, but your tone was too, "what do you want?”

“I want an iced americano,” he told you, pausing before he added, “and ask your friend to make it. I don’t trust you not to spit in my drink.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, “good call.”

Ringing up his order, you’d called your friend, dismissing any thought of ever having a normal encounter with Jisung.

Upon returning to his table, Chan had given him a look, "Lucas told me you know the cashier."

"Not the one you think is cute, don't worry,” Jisung sighed, glancing in his drink just for good measure.  

Chan's eyebrows lifted in amusement, "so the one you think is cute?"

Almost instinctually, Jisung replied, "yeah," paying more attention to his drink than his words. Looking up when he heard Chan and Lucas struggle to stifle their giggles.

"What?"

Lucas clapped his hands together, his smile wide, "you just said Y/N was cute."

"No, I didn't, you did." Jisung shot back quickly. It was obvious that retaliation didn't always have to make sense for him.

Chan had a curious glint in his eyes now, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk, "I mean, you guys do live together right, and you've really never thought anything about her?"

“I did, I thought her nagging was annoying as hell,” Jisung shrugged.


Chan narrowed his eyes at Jisung, an amused smirk on his face, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

Jisung gave Chan a pointed look, "I'd appreciate if you wouldn't stir shit, especially not in front of him." Jisung pointed at Lucas.

"You didn't answer the question," Lucas sing-songed.

Jisung scoffed, casting a furtive glance towards your direction where you were smiling as your colleague showed you something on their phone.

Jisung shrugged, it wasn’t as if you looked bad or anything, with his pride, he’d probably have told Chan that you were pretty if he squinted.

“Guess if they smiled more they'd be...decent."


Lucas raised his eyebrows, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him very much, “decent, huh.”

Chan leant back in his seat, shaking his head at Jisung, "now I feel like I have to make you my apprentice for relationships too."

Jisung scoffed, regaining his usual confidence.

"If by that you mean you want me to stand at the counter giggling my ass off like how you did with that cashier then no thanks, I'm good on my own."

===

You'd tried your best to tolerate Jisung, especially after Lucas fed you some story about how he takes a while to warm up to people (which you totally bought).

This tolerance came in the form of things like waking up earlier to use the bathroom so the both of you wouldn't have to fight in the morning, or giving him reminders to do the laundry or clean the dishes but only doing them after he forgot the third reminder.

Jisung usually forgot to turn off the lights whenever he went to sleep (though sometimes he did it on purpose, not liking the eerie darkness of the house when the lights were off), so you would always end up waking from the glare of the lights that seeped into your room, stepping over the mess of clothes or socks (sometimes even shoes) in the walkways and turning them off for him instead of nagging him about the lights. See? Tolerance.

Call you a pushover or whatever, but you kind of prided yourself on how your well of patience seemed to run deep. Very deep. Deeper than the average human, you supposed, even.

However, days like the ones you were having now, just didn't seem to let you draw from that well of patience.

You'd started off your shitty morning when you'd slept through your alarm, needing your usual work clothes but realising that Jisung hadn't done the laundry, leaving you with no choice but to grab the nearest hoodie you could find on your bedroom floor and sprint to work.

If that wasn't enough, you'd landed cashier duty as punishment for being late, your social battery starting to empty not even halfway through the day. Your 'hi, how may I help you's slowly turning to 'what would you like's to eventually 'hi's and ending up with a small smile and gesture towards the menu.

It didn't help that Chan, the tattoo artist your colleague had an obvious thing for, had shown up halfway to try and strike a conversation with you about Jisung, much to no avail.

“Aren’t you wondering why Jisung isn’t here?” You remembered him asking, to which you’d shook your head.

“Not really,” you shrugged, earning a thoughtful hum from Chan.

“Really? You’re not even the slightest bit curious?”

You had shook your head at him then, remembering the way he looked so shocked to have made you even more curious about why he was asking you this in the first place.  

By the time you were done with your work, you'd wanted nothing more than to just go home, take the longest shower of your life and curl up in your horribly uncomfortable bed. Except you couldn't even do that, because you had unfinished readings for your class the next day.

You figured if you sat yourself at your desk with no distractions you could be done sooner and go to sleep sooner, but your one distraction had just come home from the tattoo studio and was somehow getting on your nerves even more today.

Not only had he been acting as if he was the opera community's 'next big thing', he'd proceeded to seat himself on the sofa behind you, watching whatever show he was into loudly, seeming to find whatever the protagonist was saying to be too hilarious to just enjoy the show silently.

You figured you could handle that much, you know, having to live up to your preachings on tolerance, deciding to breathe deeply and suppress your urge to tell him to shut up, and soon enough, he'd disappeared.

But your joy was short lived, once again, when Jisung came back out, singing as he made a snack for himself and proceeded to eat it right in front of you, the smell growing more and more distracting.

Now, he was now lounging on the sofa in the living room, headphones on and connected to his laptop that rest on his stomach, but still typing away with his phone not on silent, the keyboard sounds distracting you from your reading. You figured, maybe your well of patience was just closed today.

“Hey,” you called. No response. If anything, the silence of the apartment had made his typing sounds even louder.

“Hey, oh my god, can you like put your phone on silent or something?" You tried again. Still no response, now, he was humming in between his pauses before he would type another burst of words on his phone.

Deciding you had to take matters into your own hands, you stormed over to where he was, your book still in your hands as you stood in front of him, making him turn to you with wide-eyes.

Pulling his headphones off of his head, he frowned, "what?"

“This,” you gestured pointedly towards his phone, “put your phone on silent, it's distracting me."

Jisung would've complied, though a part of him couldn't help but be annoyed by your nagging, his instinct prompting him to act defensively, “why don’t you just listen to some music or something? Then my typing sounds wouldn’t be a problem,” he told you dismissively, making you groan in frustration.

“I can’t study with music, it’s already hard enough for me to focus as it is.”

Jisung was annoyed, “It’s just a typing sound, what are you getting so worked up for? You’re always getting on my back about everything when I’m just minding my own business."

You let out a groan, "look, it's been more than a month, and i'm up to here with your shit," you held a hand way above your head for emphasis, any of your tolerance long gone out of the window (which he had also left open, making the apartment chilly and noisy).

Jisung's eyebrows knit in a frown, your outburst coming as a shock to him, "fine, whatever. I'll put my phone on silent, chill."

You shook your head, your gaze firm and unwavering, "no, I wanna make rules."

Rules? Jisung wanted to scoff. What was this, a second-grade classroom?

Jisung stared at you in shock, nodding dumbly. "Rules....oka-alright, yeah. Let's make rules."

You nodded firmly, "first of all, if you're gonna make food at ungodly hours in the morning, eat it in your own room."

"And the dishes, clean up after yourself," you added, gripping your book tightly in your hand.

“Stop leaving your shit in the corridors,” you continued, “and pack up your shoes it’s such a mess at the door way I can barely walk into the house,” you huffed, feeling as though with every rule you made you were finally letting your feelings be heard.

Jisung wracked his brains for a rule of his own, finding ways to regain control over the situation, "well, I have a rule too! You gotta stop nagging me to do shit," he sat up, setting his headphones on the sofa cushion.

You let out a tiny gasp, "excuse me? I only ask you to ‘do shit’ that you should be doing."

Before you could get carried away, you continued, "and as for the laundry—”

Jisung perked up, “okay, how about this. I do the dishes and you do the laundry," he suggested with a forced smile, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair, which fell back against his forehead gently.

"You know for a fact that that’s not the same, so we'll switch," you told him, "you do laundry on one week when I do the dishes, and the next week i'll do the laundry and you do the dishes. Fair, right?"

Jisung huffed, rolling his eyes, "whatever."

At the mention of laundry, Jisung glanced over at what you were wearing, frowning at the familiarity of his hoodie.

"Good, now that we have an agree—”

"That's mine," he pointed at your stomach, making you look at him in disbelief.

"Huh?" Your stomach? Your hands found their way to cover your stomach.

"The hoodie. It's mine."

You looked down at the hoodie you were wearing, a frown evident on your face. You didn't know what he was talking about, you had this hoodie since you were in high-school, it couldn't be his.

"No, it's mine. I had this since I was in high-school," you frowned, unsure if this was some sort of joke he was trying to play.

Jisung couldn't hide his amusement, letting a laugh slip from his lips, "yeah, so did I... which is why I know that that's mine."

You scoffed, "it was on my bedroom floor," you mumbled, seeing him nod patronisingly.

"Because I left it there," he told you, enunciating his words slower, shocking you when he'd reached over and grabbed you by the sleeve, raising your hand up for you to see.

"Look, this stain. It's tattoo ink. I would know because you're wearing the wrong hoodie. New rule, don’t wear my clothes.”

You stood silent, huffing as you removed the hoodie, leaving you in your shirt and sweats, tossing the hoodie at him in annoyance, the smirk on his face making you even more annoyed.

"Fine, take your stupid hoodie, I don’t wanna wear your stupid clothes anyway,” you huffed, “and you’re on laundry duty this week."

You didn't finish your readings that night.

===

You would like to think your rule system was working pretty well, seeing as you didn't find yourself butting heads with Jisung as often as before.

Halfway into the semester, you had grown busier with your assignments, which had managed to take your attention away from Jisung.

Though you were certainly more tired than usual, from attending birthday parties of friends to working, to rushing your readings during any free time you got (not to mention squeezing in any bit of sleep whenever you could), to rushing through your assignments just to meet the packed deadlines. But you couldn’t complain, this was typical for any college student you knew.

But of course, that didn’t mean you weren’t itching for a break, eyeing the semester break on your calendar that was fast approaching, letting yourself get carried away during classes with Lucas as you both planned on your pieces of scrap paper all the things you’d wanted to do during the break.

Similarly, Jisung had grown busier at the tattoo studio, and Chan had recommended him to a music producer that was interested in hearing Jisung's compositions.

Jisung was more than thankful that Chan had given him that opportunity, of course, but what was bothering him was the pain-in-the-ass creative block he was beginning to struggle with.

Not only was he struggling to find inspiration for a song he'd wanted to make, but the process seemed almost painfully slow, with how he'd fumble around with ideas that he would start on but eventually scrap, deciding that he 'wasn't feeling it'.

He'd started receiving commissions for tattoo designs, and you'd noticed he wasn't at home as often as he was before because he'd made it a point to coop himself up in the studio to try to churn out these design requests.

Fortunately, his customers were always satisfied (and he thought that was great, you know, with all the good words from Chan he was getting), but he wasn't.

Chan had seemed to sense this too, making sure to check in on Jisung more than usual during this period.

"Hey, I'm heading home a little earlier today, you'll be fine alone?"

Jisung's head lifted when he heard Chan's voice, pulling one of his earbuds from his ear as he nodded.

Chan glanced at Jisung's papers scattered around him, of half-done or halfway-abandoned sketches, giving him a look of sympathy, "don't work too hard, alright?" he huffed, glancing out of the window.

"I heard it might rain tonight, so make sure you get home before the rain hits, alright?"

Jisung waved Chan off, not paying any care to the impending rain as he bid Chan goodbye, continuing to tap his pencil on the table in his search for good ideas.

Maybe he needed to consult a lifeline.

"Hello, Lucas?"

The said lifeline was more than happy to hear Jisung's voice, having heard from you that he wasn't home as much recently, a part of him concerned as well.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

Jisung hummed, "wanted to ask if you had any ideas on what tattoos you think would be cool."

Lucas snorted, "you're asking me? You could draw a turd and i'd want to get it tattooed. Dude, you're too good, just go with your gut."

Jisung let out a whine, "my gut's not being very useful right now."

Lucas hummed, letting out an urgent grunt of surprise, "I know! Why don't you take a look at your older designs, maybe they'd give you some vibes or something."

Jisung shrugged, figuring this was probably the best advice he was gonna get, thanking Lucas before hanging up.

Picking up his tablet, Jisung had scrolled through his various sketches until he'd reached the very first few designs, sighing at the sight of the sketches, looking at his first sketch of a peony flower, with leaves dangling along the stem wedged between the budding flowers.

Jisung figured he wouldn't let his dissatisfaction subside until he tried doing a better rendition of the sketch, to refine the shading or the flow of the shape from what he'd learnt from Chan overtime.

Putting back his earbuds in, he turned his music up, beginning to work on the sketch, riding on the motivation he was afraid would disappear at any given moment.

Jisung was surprised at how fast he was done, ( only to look at the clock and realise he wasn't that fast and that it was already a little past midnight ). Removing his earbuds and going back to the sound of the whirring air conditioner and the loud sound of rain thumping against the gravel outside, Jisung knew he was done for.

He hadn't brought an umbrella with him, and the rain frankly didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon, Jisung contemplated his very limited options.

Was a binder enough to shield him from the rain? Probably not. But was it better than putting down his pride to text you to come and pick him up? He thought the binder was better, honestly.

Deciding to try his luck anyway, he'd sent you a text.

Little did Jisung know, you'd dozed off on your bed while reading, the vibration of your phone next to your face having woken you from your nap, the sound of the rain outside harshly thumping against the window.

han jisung 12:37am -hello, housemate. it is your housemate, han jisung. its raining rly badly. wld u be so kind as to come to the tattoo studio with an umbrella for me pls :D-

You frowned in annoyance, your eyes barely open as you replied him. There was no way you were going to send yourself out in the thunderstorm like that.

12:37am - no. just wait until it stops raining-

Thinking that had settled your worries, you'd shoved your phone underneath your pillow, deciding you'd let yourself sleep in since tomorrow was a Saturday after all.

You should've known better, that this was Jisung, the 'i'm tougher than a little bit of rain' Jisung, so you should've seen it coming when you'd woken up to the sound of his incessantly ringing phone.

Rolling out of your bed with a grunt, you'd pushed yourself off of the bed, ready to confront Jisung about not answering his phone.

Walking across the corridor and pushing his bedroom door open, you'd been met with an empty room, frowning as you walked over to the bed, picking the phone up and stopping the alarm.

You noticed that he'd received a few texts from Chan, not being able to help yourself from reading them.

chan 1:20am - dude! why didnt u just wait for the rain to stop?- 1:22am -  ure gna fall sick…-

Frowning, you made your way into the living room, spotting Jisung curled up on the sofa with his blanket at his feet, an instant feeling in your gut that something was wrong.

“Jisung?” You called, seeing his eyebrows furrow slightly.

In spite of yourself, you’d walked over to where he lay, your hand coming out to nudge at his shoulder with his phone.

“Hey, are you…alright?” You watched and waited as he opened his eyes slowly, blinking at you in a daze. There was perspiration beading at his temples despite the coolness of the apartment, giving you more reason to feel like there was something wrong.

As much as you didn’t like him, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were responsible for him, and it was kind of your fault that he’d walked back in the rain. You glanced at your brightly-coloured umbrella leaning against the wall, figuring there was something about this umbrella that always got you into trouble with Jisung.

You suppressed your hesitation, bringing a hand up to his forehead, Jisung not even daring to budge even an inch as you pushed his bangs back. The back of your hand pressing against his forehead gently, your breath hitching at the sheer heat of his body.

This was probably the most contact you’d ever had with him in your months of living together, and Jisung knew this too, not knowing how to feel about the concern you were showing him, feeling as though it was some kind of ridiculous fever dream.

“You walked home in the rain didn’t you?” You murmured, your feeling of guilt growing as you saw him nod at you.

You cursed inwardly, “do you have a thermometer?” 


Jisung shook his head, attempting to get up, “it’s fine, I can take care of myself, just give me my phone.”

You handed him his phone, ignoring his previous statement as you went into the kitchen in your search for any kind of medicine you could give him, cursing once again when you realised there was none. Trust the both of you to only care to buy groceries.

“We don’t have jack shit in this house,” you groaned, walking over to the bathroom, finding a cloth and a small pail to fill with cold water, bringing it over to the coffee table and setting it down next to the sofa.

“I’ve gotta go to work,” Jisung sighed, though he made no move to get up, a part of him just waiting for you to refute him so he could use you as an excuse to get off work.

You shot him a look, “no, you don’t. Shut up and lie down, I’ll go and buy your stupid medicine. If I come back and you’re not here I’ll kill you,” you warned, missing the way Jisung had complied happily, lying back down with his head on one of the sofa cushions.

Squeezing the water from the cloth, you may have slapped it a little harshly on his forehead, earning an annoyed glare from him.

Walking to grab your wallet, you cast one last look at his bored face, seeing him rush to close his eyes when he saw you glaring.

“I mean it, you better stay here.”

Jisung nodded, waving you off.

On your way to the pharmacy, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good thing that Jisung was sick.

In terms of your pros, if he was sick, he wouldn’t be able to annoy you, right? And him being sick meant that you’d basically had your desk and your bedroom to yourself, with him unable to practice tattooing in your room and use your desk as his sketching station.

In terms of your cons… well, you were planning on getting some rest today, and having to watch Jisung meant you would technically have to be near him, wouldn’t you? You were starting to wonder if that was even a con that he was basically giving you an excuse to laze around and watch tv.

“Hi, how may I help you?” The pharmacist asked.

You hummed, “uh…do you have those over-the-counter medicine and stuff for like someone with fever?”

The pharmacist nodded, pulling out the various boxes and pointing at each one, confusing you with the sheer amount of names she was listing, resulting in you just choosing the one you recognised your parents telling you to take whenever you were sick.

Making your payment, you swallowed whatever pride you had that was making you hesitate. You figured Jisung falling sick was karma for that text you sent him the night before, so you decided that you were going to see him recover for yourself.

Upon returning to the house, you’d shrugged your jacket off, making your way over to where he was, sitting on your heels next to where he was so you could gently peel the cloth from his head, replacing it with one that was soaked in colder water.

You’d drawn back slightly when you felt Jisung flinch as you laid the towel on his forehead, opening one eye to look at you, “that was fast.”

You rolled your eyes, shushing him as you took the medicine out, along with a glass of water you’d gotten from the kitchen, bringing it over to him with an expectant look.

Jisung took them from you wordlessly, swallowing them down as he averted his gaze from you, unsure why you were looking at him like some kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, reaching over to grab the television remote in an attempt to calm your nerves, “this is kind of my fault. Since I didn’t go over to the tattoo studio yesterday.”

Jisung took a moment to process what you said, wincing as he let out a (fake) cough, only serving to make you feel even more guilty than you already were.

“Are you actually…apologising to me?” Jisung’s smile was poorly hidden behind his hand, making you roll your eyes, your guilt ever-present when you looked at him.

Jisung sighed, deciding to let you off this once, “seriously, it’s no big deal. I didn’t expect you to come, anyway. I was just trying my luck,” he told you, making you frown, your mouth forming a slight pout.

“I was just being petty, I’m…” you trailed off, shaking your head, “yeah, whatever, I’m just really sorry.”

Jisung looked at you with a hint of a smile on his face, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was his fever, or the way your gestures were exuding warmth, but Jisung swore just for a moment. A second, almost, he kind of thought you looked cute.

Jisung nodded, “I’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

You frowned, turning away from the television to face him, your back resting on the sofa slightly, “let me know about what?”

Jisung kept his gaze fixed on the television, bringing his hand up to scratch at his collarbone, hints of his tattoos peeking out from his neckline.


Shrugging, Jisung’s gaze shifted to meet yours, “if your apology is accepted.”

You were sure that your mom would’ve just laughed in your face if you told her about your experience today, as you began to realise just how much you didn’t hate Jisung’s company when the both of you weren’t trying to fight each other.

In the few hours that had passed alone, you’d learnt much more about him than you had bothered to in your months living with him. You’d learnt that he was a music major, that wanted to pursue a career in music production, and that he’d gotten interested in tattoos when he’d met this kid named Changbin in his class, who introduced him to Chan for an apprenticeship.

As for Jisung? He was just learning that you weren’t as intolerable as he thought you were.

You’d ordered food for the both of you, Jisung having refused to eat porridge, and you were currently having an actual, comfortable conversation with him, the hallmark movie playing on the television long forgotten.

Jisung’s phone had started to ring, interrupting him mid-sentence as he told you about how the tattoo studio works, making you lean over to check who it was.

“It’s Chan.”

Jisung grimaced, “speak of the devil,” he scoffed. Shaking his head vigorously as you made to grab his phone, Jisung set his chopsticks down hurriedly to reach for his phone, only to grab air when you’d answered the call.

“Hello?” You heard Chan speak, an urgency to his tone.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Jisung is…not feeling so well right now.”

Jisung shot you a look, bringing his hands around his throat with his chopsticks held between his fingers, acting as if he was so sick he was about to pass out, making loud coughing noises in the background.

You couldn’t help but smile, scrunching your nose and waving him off in your attempt to get him to stop before he choked on his food.

Chan sighed, “Is he, now? Tell him I’m shifting today’s appointment to next Wednesday. Anyway, thanks, Y/N, bye,” he hung up promptly after.

You gave Jisung a grim look, setting the phone down slowly onto the coffee table, “Chan said he’s shifting your appointment to Wednesday.”

Jisung’s lips parted, almost forgetting his cheeks were full of food, tilting his head back to groan.

“Chan’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?”

Jisung shoved more food into his mouth, chewing slowly, “I totally forgot, I was supposed to do this girl’s tattoo today, but cause I’m, you know, sick,” he gave you a pointed look, “I can’t do it.”

“You do tattoos already? I thought you were still just…”

Jisung rolled his eyes, “what? Still just tattooing on fake skin?”

You nodded sheepishly, earning a sigh from him, though you didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

“I’ll have you know, I can tattoo people now. You know Lucas’ tattoo of the angel looking mermaid hybrid type thing?”

You hummed in thought, his description oddly specific yet successfully helping you visualise the tattoo, gesturing to your forearm, “the one he got here?”

Jisung nodded, “I did that for him.”

Your eyes widened, impressed at the scale of Jisung’s detail in his design, remembering how enamoured you were with it when Lucas had first showed it to you.

“Lucas’ been asking me to get a tattoo with him once the break starts,” you mentioned casually, earning a surprised hum from Jisung.

“Oh,” his eyes widened, as if he was still trying to process what you said, “really?”

You nodded, “still thinking about it, though. Haven’t really decided on what I wanted.”

Jisung scooped the last of his food into his mouth, giving you as nonchalant a shrug as he could muster.

“Well, uh, you know, if you want or something you could come one of the days during the break, I could show you some stuff I think you’d like.”

You nodded, the simple suggestion somehow exciting you.

That night, you’d gotten ready for bed, having made sure Jisung ate his medicine before he went to sleep.

Before you could move to switch the lights off, he’d stopped you/

“Wait, like…can you um… leave the lamp on?” You raised an eyebrow at him, but complied nonetheless, figuring this was your chance to repent while he was sick.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.

“Yeah, night…” he murmured, inhaling deeply, “oh, and Y/N?”

You frowned, “uh-huh?” Looking at him expectantly, your breath hitched at the sight of the small smile that made its way on his face, the moonlight casting a calm glow in the room that mirrored his expression.

“Apology accepted.”

You smiled, nodding before you left. Hopefully this meant things were looking up for your relationship.

===

After that day, it was as if something in your dynamic had shifted, you found that Jisung was giving you lesser and lesser reasons to be annoyed at him.

Lucas had gotten a kick out of it when you’d told him about it.

“You guys finally realised it wouldn’t kill you to be nice to each other?” You remembered him telling you.

You would beg to differ, though, because with this shift in dynamic came a whole lot of awkwardness, especially when one of you had done something mildly nice for the other person.

Take this instance, for example.

You’d been sitting at your desk, trying to finish up on your essay that was due that week, not wanting to let your motivation subside without making full use of it (also because you knew if you didn’t do it now, you’d procrastinate and stress out when you realised you were behind time).

You’d been able to faintly smell Jisung’s noodles that he was cooking in the kitchen, making you sigh. You didn’t like eating things after you had your dinner, but you couldn’t lie and say that they didn’t smell great.

Expecting to hear his bedroom door shut and feel the smell of the noodles get fainter, he’d surprised you when he made his way over to you, setting a mug containing a hot drink on your desk.

Turning to him abruptly, he’d flinched back, looking at you with wide eyes as his hands flew up over his chest, making you laugh.

“I’m not gonna hit you, calm down.”

Jisung relaxed (albeit hesitantly), one of his hands coming up to grip the back of his neck, gesturing towards the mug with his other hand.

“Go ahead, I uh…didn’t poison it or anything,” a huff of awkward laughter left him.

You glanced from the mug to him, nodding slowly, “thanks.”

“Don’t, you know…sleep too late, and stuff,” he told you, earning a nod from you.

He nodded back at you, giving you a close-lipped smile before practically jogging back to his room, the door shutting a little louder than usual, a yelp of apology echoing after.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t try to to be nice to him either, but frankly, he wasn’t giving you many opportunities to do so.


Jisung was still keeping his worries to himself, with his creative block seeming to have spiralled him into heavy feelings of anxiousness and a lack of confidence in his abilities.

You figured that things had been weighing heavy on his mind when you realised he’d been intentionally keeping the light on more often when he slept, or how the typing sounds of his keyboard would get more frequent as it got later into the night.

You’d even had Chan pleading for you to check up on Jisung every now and then once you noticed that he’d been sleeping a lot more and eating at irregular intervals. Listening out for his humming every now and then, you noticed the melodies seemed to have taken a more slow-paced, almost melancholic turn.

One night, you’d decided that if Jisung wasn’t going to give you opportunities to be nice to him, you would just create them for yourself. Making a determined trip to the kitchen, you’d boiled his favourite type of instant ramen, having seen how he made it so many times you knew just what to add in.

Padding over to his room, you’d knocked on the door before pushing it open slightly, watching him straighten up where he sat on his bed, setting his iPad down beside him, his thigh blocking it from your view.

“Hey, I uh…here,” you cut to the chase, Jisung was quick to find something to put under the pot on his bed, opening it and looking at you wordlessly.

“Figured the both of us could use a break,” you shrugged, oblivious to the way your words had stirred something within Jisung.

“What were you working on?” You asked, scooping some noodles into a bowl for Jisung and handing it to him.

He’d taken the bowl from you absently, his eyes widening at the mention of the sketch, unconsciously pushing it further behind him.

“Nothing, I was just doodling.”

Jisung had no idea how to explain that he had been trying to design something for you, something that reminded him of you. Because frankly, that was the only thing that seemed to be pushing his creative block aside at the moment.

“Can I see?”

Usually, Jisung would’ve fought you ( to the death ) before he’d let you see his unfinished designs, but there was something about your demeanour that made him feel like it was okay to show you. That it was okay to tell you that it wasn’t perfect because something inside of him just told him that you would understand.

In spite of any rational fibre in his being, he’d picked up the tablet, giving it to you as he continued to eat the ramen, his gaze never leaving your expression, oblivious to your scrolling as he was too busy gauging your reaction.

“These are all really pretty,” you told him, scrolling until you’d reached the bottom, clicking on one of the drawings and flipping the screen around to show Jisung.

“I love this,” you told him, earning a surprised hum from him.

He saw that you’d clicked on the sketch of the peony that he’d tried to refine that day he got rained on, wondering what made you choose that out of all his designs, since he was probably the least satisfied with that one.

“Are you sure? What about this one?” He took the tablet from you, scrolling back to the design he was working on, making you hum thoughtfully, eventually shaking your head no.

“I like the other one better,” you told him, earning a confused hum from him.

“Why?”

You scoffed, frowning at him, “why are you so against it? You’re the one that drew it,” you took the tablet back from him, holding it against your shoulder before shaking your head, setting it back down onto your lap.

“Besides,” you murmured, zooming in to admire the shading on the flower, “I think it’s beautiful.”

Jisung’s expression was unreadable, unsure how you had such strong appreciation for something he thought was his worst work, something about the way you praised it making a strange feeling that he couldn’t place build within his chest.

It was like before, the feeling of comfort, that he didn’t have to worry about any kind of creative block that could be thrown his way because you gave him a different perspective on his abilities.

You know, the cliché, hard-hitting feeling that ‘everything is gonna be okay’.

“Do you have anything happening during the break?” You asked, earning a shrug from him.

“I’ve gotta submit my song to Chan’s music producer friend.”

You perked up at the mention of Jisung’s song, “have you thought of what you wanted to do for it yet?”

Jisung shook his head, letting out a deep sigh, “it’s been kind of stressing me out, to be honest,” he admitted.

“I like…I don’t wanna give him something that doesn’t show what I’m capable of, you know?”

You nodded, “I understand…I wish I could help you but I don’t really, you know, know how,” you fidgeted with your fingers, hearing him grunt in dismissal.

“It’s fine,” he mustered a confident smile, “nothing I can’t handle.”

And for a moment, you really would’ve believed that he’d gotten it handled. Leaving him to continue with his work as you got ready for bed.

You had almost anticipated to hear typing sounds as you did every night these days. But unlike the other nights, Jisung didn’t very well feel like being alone with his thoughts that night, not even wanting to type them down. He craved the feeling of being okay, of feeling like he still had time and didn’t have to be anxious or feel shitty about his mediocre work.

So it had come as a surprise to you when you’d heard the gentle knock at your door that night just as you were about to drift into a half-asleep state, hearing the door open and watching as Jisung made his way hesitantly over to where you were.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You heard him let out a shaky breath, and you didn’t need to ask him further, giving him a small hum of approval as he’d pulled the small heated mat from under your bed and made himself comfortable next to your bed.

Jisung let his head hit the ground gently, a deep sigh leaving him as he closed his eyes.

“Do you want me to leave the lamp on?” You mumbled, hearing him hum.

“No, it’s fine,” he told you, strangely not feeling much of a need for it now that he had you near him.

The both of you knew better than to speak more, the silence seeming to have made you understand how he was feeling. And as he lay there, with your presence in the room, Jisung felt alright, and so did you.

That night, there were no typing sounds.  

===

Contrary to yesterday, you'd started today on a good note. Having bumped into Jisung the next morning after he'd gotten ready, meeting in the hallway when you were still dressed in your sleepwear, you couldn't help but smile.

"Morning," he murmured, a small smile on his face as he gave you a little wave, leaving promptly to meet Chan at the tattoo studio.

You didn't have work today, and you'd arranged a meeting with Lucas to hang out, the boy not seeming to want to waste anymore time when he'd finally arrived at the mall, practically bounding over to where you were waiting at the fountain in the atrium.

"So, have you thought about it yet?" he asked you, extending a hand to help you up.

Frowning, your lips parted in confusion, "thought about what?"

Lucas gave you an unamused look, as if you should've known what he was talking about. Pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, he'd raised his hands as he gestured, "you know, about what tattoo you wanted to get."

You made your way to a bubble tea outlet that Lucas wanted to check out, pestering you to go with him as part of the things he’d wanted to do during the semester break.

You couldn't help but laugh at the realisation, feeling awfully giddy at the thought of yesterday.

It was just a simple interaction, yeah, whatever, but no one said there were rules on what could make your heart flutter and what couldn't. All you knew was that whatever happened yesterday, did.

"Yeah, I did," you confessed, huffing with a smile on your face.

Lucas didn't know whether to feel afraid or happy that you were so quick to decide this time, looking at you in concern, "okay...so, what did you decide on?"

You pursed your lips, your smile disappearing, "I don't have a picture with me, it's on Jisung's ipad. But it's really pretty, it's like this drawing of a flower," you explained.

Lucas' eyes widened, his hand coming up to cover his mouth in a poor attempt to conceal his growing excitement.

"Oh, it's one of Jisung's stuff?"

You nodded, not seeming to understand why he was so happy about that, "what?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, "you and Jisung seem to be on pretty good terms recently, huh.”

You scoffed, shrugging because it wasn't as if what he said was a lie.

Lucas leaned closer to you, "have you been smiling at him more these days?"

You frowned at his question, shrugging at him nonetheless, turning your attention back to the menu board, "yeah, I guess."

Lucas' giggles escaped him like bubbles, nodding at you knowingly, “perfect. You should definitely keep doing that.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “questionable advice, but I’ll take it. Anyway, when are you planning on getting it done?"

Lucas straightened up, lifting his phone slightly to check the date.

"I made an appointment for Chan to do mine next Tuesday," he told you, “have you asked your parents yet?”

You nodded, “they weren’t as supportive until they found out Jisung designed it, they just told me not to get anything I’ll regret.”

Lucas couldn’t miss his opportunity to tease you, “well, I’m sure if Jisung’s doing it, the last thing you’d do is regret it.”

Shoving him aside and ignoring the way he’d burst into a fit of giggles, you ordered your drink, and Lucas’ as well once he calmed down enough to point at what he wanted on the menu.

“Maybe you should text him and ask about when you can book him?” Lucas gestured to you with his drink, his leg bouncing absently as he looked around the small outlet, the group of high-school girls in their uniforms sitting next to your table giggling as he’d skimmed over their table.

“Do you think that’d be too much? Should I just ask Chan instead?” You glanced at him for a sign of approval, “but then if I ask Chan would it make Jisung think I don’t want him to do my tattoo?” You wondered out loud, your stream of thought proving to be fairly amusing to Lucas.

“Just text him, it’s not that deep,” Lucas sipped on his drink.

“Nah, you know what? I should just ask him later at home, I shouldn’t bother him when he’s at work,” you shrugged, earning a sound of dismissal from him.

“Texting him would be a lot faster, you know.”

You shot him a look, “why are you so insistent on me texting him?”

Lucas scoffed, “why are you so against it?” He shot back.

Giving him a look of feigned annoyance, you’d set your phone down onto the table, staring blankly as Lucas had turned it to face him, unlocking your phone and going to Jisung’s chat.

“How should I start? ‘hey baby’—”

Your eyes widened, about to snatch the phone back from him when he’d pulled it towards himself in time, shooting you a look of feigned confusion.

“What? Too mild?” He laughed.

Sighing as he calmed down from his laughter, he shook his head slowly as he typed out a message, “man, you’re so bad at this,” he murmured.

“What makes you say that?”

Lucas pressed something on your phone with finality, scrolling up as he showed you your previous texts with Jisung. Texts like:

1:09pm - dont eat my chips get ur own - or texts like


10:11pm - keep it down! Im trying to study -

Jisung 10:11pm -well so am I!-

“All you guys ever text each other for is to ask each other to do things, how can you expect him to like you if you’re always telling him to separate his lights and darks?”

You took the phone back from Lucas with a huff, “leave me alone. And who said anything about wanting him to like me?”

Lucas looked as though you’d just asked him an obvious question, looking almost scandalised at your denial, “really? You went from ‘oh, I don’t wanna bother Jisung at work’ and ‘oh, heehee me and Jisung ate ramen together yesterday night’ to ‘who said anything about my big fat crush on Jisung’?”

You huffed, “that’s inaccurate.”

Lucas chewed on his tapioca pearls harshly, making sure you heard the smacking sounds of his chewing to unnerve you, shaking his head at you matter-of-factly, “it’s pretty much-what’s the word, ah! Verbatim. That.”


You rolled your eyes at him, wondering how the high-school girls sitting next to you still managed to find Lucas an absolute dreamboat despite how intentionally ridiculously he was behaving.

The truth is, Jisung wouldn’t have cared if you’d ‘bothered him during work or not’. He probably would’ve jumped at the notification of your text.

After the night before, Jisung couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of comfort that flooded him at the thought of you. Finally getting enough inspiration to work on his song when he’d gotten home, even despite the pounding in his head and the sheer fatigue from the day that had passed.

Call him whatever you wanted, but Jisung couldn’t shake the feeling of reassurance he got with you, and it was a feeling he never thought he’d be experiencing as deeply as he did now.

From how familiar it was to hear your voice (even if it was asking him to fold the laundry), to how the smell of your perfume would awaken him on certain days, just in time for him to start his routine for the day. In small things, like how whenever he was looking for a break from work, somehow he’d find it with you.

He’d been working on his song for hours now, though he’d kept letting his gaze wander to the door in anticipation, wondering what was taking you so long to get home. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were still with Lucas, his imagination running wild with all sorts of scenarios that could have taken place to warrant you coming home so late.

Jisung brushed the thought away quickly after he found himself going to your contact on his phone, setting it down quickly as if it burned him. It was fine, you were an adult (he figured), you didn’t need him to hound you about a curfew.

Deciding to work on his lyrics for the song, he’d typed away on his laptop his ideas, his mind seeming to always gravitate to thinking of you as he read what he’d typed down.

Satisfied with the amount of work he’d gotten done for that day, Jisung had let his head lean back against the armrest of the sofa, his legs bent as he lay on his side, letting his eyes rest from all that staring at his glaringly bright computer screen.

You’d gone for a late-night movie with Lucas to end off your day, having gone home later than usual, though you didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if you had a curfew anymore.

You managed to reach your apartment as stealthily as you could, since the walls were really that thin and you didn’t want the old lady from next door to get on your back for being noisy when she was trying to sleep or whatever again.

Shoving your keys into the keyhole, you frowned when you saw that the lights in the living room were still switched on, spotting Jisung lying on the sofa with his eyes closed, his head lolling to the side as he dozed off.

Going into your room (in stealth mode, again), you’d set your things down quietly, deciding to take a shower and get ready for bed before anything else. Suddenly everything seemed to be a thousand times louder than you were used to. You were sure Jisung hadn’t been getting much quality sleep recently, so seeing him dozing off on the sofa had only made you want to ensure that his sleep continued uninterrupted.

Once you were changed into your sleepwear, you’d gone into Jisung’s room, taking a soft blanket from his cupboard and bringing it over to where he was, draping it over him till it reached his shoulders. You couldn’t help but find how peaceful he looked to be rather endearing, wishing you could do more but knowing there wasn’t much else you could do.

Jisung considered himself a good actor, because on the inside he was far from peaceful. He’d awoken at the feeling of being covered by the blanket, the back of your fingers grazing against his arm slightly.

His heart had fluttered, extremely, at the gesture, though something in him was yelling at him not to open his eyes, wanting to savour the moment for himself. It felt warm, a comfortable kind of warmth, the kind you would want to bask in for hours after being in the cold for so long. Something like a ray of sunshine.

Jisung was convinced he was going mad.

Switching on the lamp at your desk so that the living room wouldn’t be in complete darkness, you’d switched off the lights in the living room, bidding a silent goodnight to Jisung in your head before you’d gone back to your room, leaving Jisung dumbfounded.

===

“What did you say the song was called, again?” Chan had asked Jisung on Tuesday morning, looking at him with an endeared smile.

Jisung felt shy for some reason, pressing his lips together firmly as he averted his gaze from Chan, preparing his equipment as he waited for you and Lucas to arrive.

“Sunshine,” Jisung told him.

Chan huffed, his smile growing bigger, “I like that,” he hummed.

“What’s it about?” Chan asked, pulling his phone out to check for a text, “also, Lucas says they’re nearby.”

Jisung shrugged, “what’s it about?” He echoed Chan’s question, as if not knowing for himself either, something about him seeming fairly preoccupied, “it’s kind of hard to explain.”

Chan nodded in understanding, glancing at the way Jisung fiddled with the practice sketch he’d done of Y/N’s tattoo, twirling it around in his hands and anxiously glancing towards the door.

“Nervous?”

Jisung’s head shot up to look at Chan with wide eyes, “huh?…” he nodded slowly, “yeah, kind of.”

A small smile played at Chan’s lips as the boy had finished up the stencil for Lucas’ tattoo. “Is it because it’s Y/N?”

Jisung let out a nervous laugh, “yeah, duh,” he mumbled, “I mean, yeah, I’m nervous because she’s the one getting the tattoo but more like…”

Jisung shrugged, “I still don’t understand why she chose this out of all the designs I had.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, the jingling of the bells at the door followed by a loud guffaw of laughter signalling to him that the both of you had arrived.

“You should take more pride in your work,” Chan pat Jisung on the back, almost sending the boy stumbling with the sheer force behind the hit. Though Jisung couldn’t very well pay attention to the pain in his shoulder once he saw you with Lucas.

Lucas was quick to shove you towards Jisung, going over to one of the beds with Chan as they discussed the placement of the tattoo.

Jisung was almost uncharacteristically tense, leading you over to the station across from Lucas and Chan, holding the stencil up for you to see, “you’re absolutely sure you want this?”

You rolled your eyes, nodding, “yes, I’m sure.”

Jisung nodded slowly, albeit hesitantly, at you, “have you figured out where you want it?”

Lucas had perked up at that, butting into the conversation despite being across the room, “we were thinking between two places.”

Jisung hummed as he’d gone over to take the tablet containing a form for you to fill out before he got started.

You shushed Lucas quickly, accepting the tablet from Jisung with a nod of thanks, “yeah, I was thinking between here,” you gestured under your collarbone, “or here,” you gestured to your shoulder, just above your shoulder-blade.

Jisung nodded, “which do you feel more comfortable with? I think both are alright.”

“I was thinking maybe here?” You held a hand over the space under your collarbone, earning a nod from him.

“Alright,” he murmured, taking the tablet from you once you were done and quietly gesturing for you to lie down.

In your haste to get it over with, you’d almost completely forgotten about the placement of your tattoo, Jisung quirking an eyebrow at you and letting a huff of nervousness escape him.

“Sorry uh, I hope you don’t mind,” he murmured, pulling the collar of your shirt down to expose the area you’d wanted tattooed, making Lucas (who was watching intently) snicker from where he sat.

You’d felt heat creeping up to your neck, making you stretch your neck to look elsewhere, deciding to focus on the black pipes lining the ceiling, your shyness reducing your voice to a mere mumble, “yeah, sorry.”

Your nerves had built up even more with how tense Jisung was, even as he had disinfected the area and transferred what looked like a blue-ish outline of his sketch to your skin, making you almost want to writhe in your place with how nervous you were growing.

However, once you’d heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun, it was as if you were transported into your room, the familiarity of the sound making you less nervous, simply anticipating the pain that you’d associated with the tattoo to occur.

It was a wonder you hadn’t even been able to think much about the pain of the tattoo, though, because you were too busy trying to ignore Jisung’s proximity to you.

He was a stark contrast from Chan, who was making conversation with Lucas throughout the process, whereas Jisung had simply loomed over you, a tense knit to his brow and his lips pressed tightly together. Just by your expressions alone, people would have thought he was the one getting the tattoo.

This was only so because Jisung was struggling, with the smell of your perfume making him feel more awake than ever, and not to mention the pressure to make sure the tattoo turned out well that weighed heavy on him. Everything about you was so familiar, yet everything about the experience was not, and it was driving Jisung crazy with the amount of tension it was making him feel.

“Are you okay?” He asked, gauging your face for any sign that you were in too much pain.

You wanted to laugh, “This is like the fifth time you’re asking me that,” you told him.

“Can’t help it,” he told you, and you swore you saw his cheeks start to tint pink, “just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know…since it’s your first tattoo, and all.”

You nodded reassuringly, “it’s fine, just keep going.”

Jisung nodded, “I’ll be done quicker than you know it, I swear.”

You continued to distract yourself with the sight of Lucas across the room, Chan having to bring the needle back whenever Lucas couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“I’m sorry, It tickles,” you heard him tell Chan, making you have to stifle your laughter.

“Can I ask you something?” You decided that maybe talking to Jisung would help time pass faster (and less awkwardly).

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, shifting his chair slightly to get into a more comfortable position.

“How many tattoos do you have?” You asked, earning a long, reflective hum from him.

“I got a few in the time after college started, I would say about 5 or 6 now?” He shrugged, “and if you’re gonna ask me what’s their meanings…I don’t really know how to explain it, I just like the feeling they give me when I look at them.”

“I get it, it’s expression after all.”

Jisung nodded, his focus returning and making him let the conversation still. You didn’t like that, the feeling of awkwardness that returned with his silence, making you wrack your brains to find any sort of other conversation topic you could think of.

“Are you seeing anyone?” You wanted to instantly hide your face once you heard the words leave your mouth, Lucas turning to you with a wide-eyed expression.

Jisung sputtered, pulling the tattoo gun away from your skin, shaking his head at you.

“Uh, no, I’m not.” He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to regain his confidence in the situation, “why’d you wanna know?”

Now it was your turn to flush, averting your gaze, “oh, you know, just…curious, is all.”

Jisung smirked, “well, don’t go getting any ideas. I already like someone,” he told you, feeling as though he was dangling a carrot right in front of you.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, “really? Who?”

Jisung shrugged, “it’s a secret.”

You frowned, wanting to get back at him but not quite knowing how, deciding to go with the first thing you could think of, “well, I like someone too, you’re not special.”

Jisung hadn’t expected you to retort with that, narrowing his eyes at you, “wait, really? Is it Lucas?”

“Oh my god, no way, never.”

“Then who is it?” He met your gaze, making you stick your tongue out at him, mustering your best impersonation of him.

“It’s a secret.”

You had almost thought you were imagining things, but you noticed Jisung’s mood take a turn from there, seeming awfully pensive as he did the rest of your tattoo, the both of you having maintained a silence after your failed attempt at a proper conversation with him. He’d already begun to do the shading for your tattoo, so you figured he was really going to be done quicker than you thought.

You tried to distract yourself by glancing towards Lucas and Chan’s direction. Jisung could see you staring in their direction from the corner of his eye, wondering why your gaze kept travelling there when he was right in front of you.

“Is it Chan?” He blurted out, making your eyes go wide in shock.

Your smile grew, shaking your head, “no, definitely not.”

Jisung frowned, “who could it even be, you don’t even know that many people,” he huffed.

You sighed, trust you to fall for someone as oblivious as him.

“Do you want a clue?” You asked, earning a grunt from him.

“They’re very oblivious.”

Jisung frowned, looking as though he were contemplating, his tissue going over your tattoo slower as he thought. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation, a gasp leaving him.

“No way, it’s not that Felix kid from your department, is it?” He looked as though he was hoping you would say no.

You fought to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, yet not realising you were smiling at him, “no, it’s not him.”

Jisung sighed, “oh, good. I know I always say I’m the best looking but he’s a lot better looking than I am, don’t tell him I said that.”

“Good?” You questioned, wondering why he seemed so relieved that all his options had turned out to be false. Jisung had realised he may have made things a little too obvious, shaking his head vigorously.

“Nothing, you’re all done, forget I said anything.”

He pushed himself away from you, his chair swivelling far back as he tried to calm the racing of his heart as you sat up and stretched, your body tired from being in the same position for so long.

“What time is it?” You asked, earning a grunt from Jisung, not knowing either.

Chan had chimed in from the other side, having been done with Lucas’ tattoo way before yours.

“It’s 4:24,” he told you. Jisung had been busy putting an adhesive bandage over your tattoo to pay attention to your reaction.

You spent 4 hours lying there and you only got like what, two conversations with Jisung? This was a new low, even for you.


You were snapped out of your disappointment when Jisung had spoken.

“Uh… yeah keep this on for like three to four days?” He gestured to the bandage, your breath hitching as he hiked the collar of your shirt up so it wasn’t still dropping off your shoulder.

“You can still shower and everything so yeah…” he told you, reciting from memory after having been told this a thousand times by Chan.

You tried your best to pay attention, though you knew you’d probably forget by the time you were home, making him stand up mid-speech and walk over to the counter, pulling out a little brochure to hand you.

“Honestly, just read this, it has everything you need to know inside,” he told you, walking away briskly to compose himself at his station.

You’d made your payment to Chan at the counter, Jisung having pretended to be busy with cleaning up, making Chan flash you an amused smile.

“What?”

He shook his head, dimples appearing as he gave you your receipt, “You two are just too cute,” he huffed, earning a loud hum of approval from Lucas.

“Aren’t they?” The tall boy chimed in, making you scoff.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, bye,” you waved, seeing Jisung turn around to give you a wide smile before turning back around, practically collapsing onto the bed once you and Lucas were gone.

“Those were the most excruciating 4 hours of my life.”

Chan’s laughter could be heard as he made his way over to Jisung, giving him a pat on the back, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Jisung let out a loud groan, “we were like this close!” Jisung brought his hand in front of his face for emphasis as he whined to Chan, “and I couldn’t focus at all I was so scared I was gonna screw up her tattoo because I kept zoning out,” he rambled, feeling as though his knees were about to buckle.

Chan shook his head with a feigned look of sympathy, looking at Jisung as though Jisung were his son, “I’m glad you’re feeling stressed.”

Jisung scoffed, shrugging Chan’s hand off of his shoulder and  glaring at his mentor with a look of disbelief, “you’re glad? Aren’t you supposed to be feeling some sympathy for me? That’s sick, I can’t believe you.”

Chan wasn’t surprised at Jisung’s dramatic reaction, simply laughing as he shrugged.

“I’m glad because if you’re stressed, you’re gonna be pushed to do something about it soon. And then I can stop hearing you stress about it and just see the both of you together, instead.”

Jisung shot Chan a dirty look, “you’re mean, old man.”

Chan scoffed, “at least I’m not stupid in love.”

===

Jisung had been keeping himself fairly busy since then, the both of you having been busy with your own plans since the semester break had started. However, the both of you had somehow managed to enjoy suppers together, bonding over a (rather unhealthy) meal of snacks or instant food whenever it was late in the night and the both of you didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.

And speaking of sleep, you’d also noticed how Jisung had started to look brighter these days, seeming to have been overcoming that period of lethargy he was previously in.

Now, the brightness was heard in the songs he hummed, in how he smiled and laughed more whenever you were together. Even in how he'd started growing more comfortable with sleeping in the dark. You weren’t sure what exactly sparked this change in him, but whatever it was, you were glad it happened, yourself seeming to be all the more enamoured with this version of Jisung that had grown on you.

You’d planned with Jisung to have a day of celebration (or a pity party) once he’d submitted his song to Chan’s music producer friend.

Since you had work that day, you’d wanted to get up early to prepare breakfast for him, but you didn’t realise how late you were until you woke up and found that he had already left.

Making your way over to the kitchen to find some food for yourself after you’d gotten ready for work, you yanked open the door for the fridge, expecting to be met with all of Jisung’s snacks and cans of drinks that still had their post-its on them.

However, as you were scanning the fridge to see if you had anything you could eat, you spotted a different coloured post-it on a bundle of juice packets, peeling the post-it off of the packaging to inspect it.

‘y/n, I heard these are great to start the morning with, try them for me?’

You couldn’t help but smile, a hand coming up to your face to attempt to slap away the heat you felt in your cheeks, pulling out a packet of juice anyway.

You were starting to think the juice did have some sort of magical properties in them, because when you got to work, you’d been on drink duty, which was your favourite to do. Well, technically, anything other than cashier duty was your favourite but who’s keeping track here?

You knew Jisung's meeting with the producer was around the afternoon, so when Chan had shown up at the café alone, you didn't question it.

Now you were really glad you weren't on cashier duty today, giving your colleague more time to talk to Chan while he ordered.

"One strawberry smoothie for Chan?" you called to get his attention, seeing him stroll over to the pick-up point with a smile on his face.

"Sorry, Jisung's not here," he teased, sighing wistfully.

You scoffed, "yeah, yeah. I know where he is.”

“How’s the tattoo healing?” He asked, making your hand go up to your shoulder unconsciously, “It’s alright, looks really pretty now that it’s all healed.”

Chan gave you a thumbs up, opening the lid of his drink as he took a sip, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Is he meeting your friend now?"

Chan’s eyebrows raised in confusion, “who?..oh,” he nodded in realisation, “yeah, just went to meet him. Honestly, if you asked me, he didn’t seem as excited about the meeting as he was to meet you for dinner.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “don’t put ideas into my head, old man.”

Chan simply gave you a shrug, “I’m not that old, you know,” he brought his drink up to his lips to take a sip, “and they’re only ideas if you’re in denial.”

You groaned, “go, begone, leave me alone.”

Chan giggled, nodding as his hand went up in surrender, “fine, I’m going. Have a good dinner later, Y/N,” he sing-songed.

Curse Chan for putting the thought into your head, now you couldn’t stop thinking about dinner.

Your shift only ended at 5:30, so that gave you just about enough time to go get groceries while Jisung prepared the things for your hotpot at home.

Deciding you would do what you were called to do, which in this case, meant to send Jisung a text wishing him the best of luck, you did as such.

2:31pm - hey, all the best for your meeting with the producer man!!-

Jisung’s reply had come quickly,

han jisung 2:32pm - thanks :( im waiting to see him now, I didn’t know there was gonna be a whole queue -

Setting your phone aside, you’d tried not to let yourself get too anxious while you waited for him to update you, busying yourself with washing dishes and even serving tables out of your sheer boredom due to the crowd starting to disperse at this time.

You waited, and you waited, you waited until the word ‘waiting’ itself felt weird to say in your head. You should’ve known better to have expected Jisung to update you over text, only receiving a text in the evening that read

han jisung 5:23pm - hey…i just finished meeting him…see u at the apartment?-

You’d texted him back, not knowing what to make of his text.

5:23pm - is that a good hey or a bad hey? -

Jisung hadn’t answered your question, his next text coming as more of a source of confusion for you.

han jisung 5:24pm - ill tell u in person -

“What happened? Is it Jisung?” Your colleague seemed to have sensed your inner turmoil, looking at you with concern etched in her features.

“Yeah, he told me he was done meeting the producer person…but he didn’t wanna tell me how it went,” you frowned, seeing your colleague hum in confusion.

“D’you think it didn’t go well?” She asked, mirroring your expression of uncertainty.

You typed out your reply to Jisung as you shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m hoping he’s just messing with me.”

5:26pm - my shift ends in like 4 minutes… I’ll go and get the groceries before I get back -

han jisung 5:26pm - okay, ill be waiting -

“All the best, then?” Your co-worker offered, giving you a look of sympathy.

“You too, enjoy the rest of your shift,” you returned her expression, sighing as you removed your apron, grabbing your bag from the back room before you left.

You’d tried your best to be quick in getting your groceries, making sure you’d gotten everything Jisung had told you to, your footsteps quick as you briskly walked to your apartment building.

Not knowing if it was because you hadn’t eaten in hours or if it was because you were just excited, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement in you, not so much because you were excited to hear how Jisung’s meeting went but more of because you were excited that you were going to see Jisung soon.

Finally reaching your apartment, you’d pushed the door open to spot Jisung coming out from his room, a towel on his head as he rubbed at his freshly-washed hair.

“Hey,” you breathed, a hint of a smile on your face, scanning his face for an expression as he glanced at you, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose cutely.

Jisung had a whole plan for how he was going to surprise you with the news, he wanted to wait until the food was ready and when the both of you were seated across each other in the living room, wait for you to ask him about how the meeting went so that he could pretend to be upset about it.

And just like he’d seen in the romantic movie Chan was playing in the studio the other day, he would wait till you showed concern to give you a smile and tell you the good news, already being able to imagine the smile you would give him in celebration.

But seeing how you looked, a little bit breathless from rushing, carrying groceries in your hands as you looked at him with a smile that spelled nothing but relief, Jisung couldn’t help himself.

“He offered me a job,” Jisung confessed, his grip tight on his towel as he let his hand fall limp to his side, any perfect, fool-proof plan of copying the romance movie now long gone.

Your eyes widened, setting the groceries on the counter as you cheered, “oh my god, that’s great! I’m really happy for you!” You cheered, practically running towards him before stopping yourself halfway, realising you were almost about to hug him.

Jisung noticed you stop too, tilting his head at you as his hands had already begun to raise to welcome you into a hug, hesitating once he’d seen you stop.

“Sorry,” you huffed, shoving your hands into your pockets, taking a step back to create some distance between the both of you.

Jisung smiled, shaking his head, “don’t be.” Shocking you with his confidence, he’d taken a step closer to you, his arms going around your shoulders as he pulled you towards him, his head leaning against yours gently as one of his hands went up to pet your head gently.

“You really helped me through it, believe it or not.”

Your eyes widened, trying not to get too carried away with the way his hold felt too comforting for you to pull away, thankful that he’d let go first, his hands coming up to grasp your shoulders.

“You hungry? The soup’s almost done.”

You nodded, “can I uh…take a shower first? I’ll be quick I promise.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply before you’d escaped to the bathroom, too focused on showering quickly that you’d almost forgotten about the hug. Keyword, almost.

Once you’d changed into a comfortable shirt and shorts, you’d practically jogged over to the kitchen, seeing that Jisung had already taken out the ingredients to thaw the meat and prepare the veggies.

“Wow, who are you and what have you done with Jisung?”

Jisung turned around at your voice, rolling his eyes at your statement, flicking the water from the veggies at you as you dodged, “figured I’d do something while waiting, you know, make myself useful.”

You huffed, a smile on your face as you gestured for him to continue, “well, don’t let me stop you.”

“So how did the interview go?” You asked, watching intently as he brought the platefuls of ingredients to the coffee table, stopping you when you’d moved to help him get the pot of soup.

“It’s okay, you go sit down, I’ll do it.”

You couldn’t help the impressed pout from your lips, not wanting to let on that the gesture had made your heart flutter.

Once all the food was on the table, Jisung had taken a seat next to you, the both of you starting to throw your ingredients into the soup, Jisung turning to you looking as though he’d wanted to say something.

“What was I saying before? Oh, right,” he nodded, “I didn’t expect him to be so intimidating, I nearly pissed myself when I walked into the room.”

You’d burst into laughter, Jisung laughing along with you, “I’m not even joking. Chan gave me a completely different description of what he would be like.”

You’d tried your best to calm down from your laughter quickly, seeing him take a piece of food from the pot and place it into your bowl wordlessly, choosing to ignore the gesture for the sake of your heart.

“But I’m assuming he’s not that bad? Since he offered you the job?”

Jisung let out a sigh, “yeah, thank god he did, I was a stuttering mess. Even Iwouldn’t have hired myself.”

You let out a chuckle, “you’re lucky he judged you based on the song, then,” you teased, earning a harmless glare from him.

You’d scooped some food into your mouth, looking up at him to see that he’d already had his cheeks full of food, nodding at you expectantly.

“So does this mean you’re gonna work on that producer guy’s team?” You asked, earning a nod from him as he swallowed his mouthful of food with a wince.

“Yeah, he said I could intern at his company in the holidays and if everything goes well he’ll give me a contract once I graduate.”

You let out a low whistle, “wow, imagine all the exposure you’d get there…all the different types of genres and artists you’d be exposed to,” you marvelled, Jisung finding it amusing how you seemed more excited about it than he was.

You perked up in realisation, “speaking of which…I realised you’d never let me listen to the song yet.”

Jisung flushed, shaking his head, “did I? I swear I did,” he lied, making you shove him, a smile showing on his face as you did, nodding in surrender as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table.

“What’s it called?” You asked, seeing him nudge his glasses up with his knuckle, shaking his head to flick his hair from his eyes.

“Sunshine,” he told you quickly, not wasting anymore time and playing the song.

As he started to play the song, you were surprised at the light sounding melody the song had started with, the sounds of the city that he’d put inside, the feeling that you were…at home?

“Don’t look at me when you’re listening to it, I’m shy,” he brought a hand up to cover your face, making you yelp, your hands coming up to grab his wrist, pulling it away slowly as you grew more focused on the song, recognising his voice as he sang.

It wasn’t a love song, thankfully, you realised. You realised that the song revolved around a certain feeling of calm, with themes of getting away from the busy nature of your life and taking time for yourself, something you realised you and him both kind of needed.

You listened until the song had ended, looking at him with a big smile on your face, a smile that made Jisung want to cover your face in fear that it would make his heart burst with how giddy he felt.

“I love this,” you told him, “can you send it to me?”

Jisung scoffed, “no way, how do I know you’re not gonna sell it before I can get it copyrighted?” he huffed, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table to support his head on his palm.

“I’m really impressed, how’d you get the inspiration to do this?”

Jisung shrugged, “my own life I guess, and the people that helped me get through that weird period of creative block that I was in,” he murmured.

You nodded, “well, whoever they are, you should thank them for me.”

Jisung nodded, facing the television as he contemplated in his heart whether to do what he wanted to do, turning to you with a small smile on his face, he nodded slowly.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Your eyes widened, not knowing what to make of his words. The song had started to repeat.

Jisung had shook his head, “I’m not just saying this because I like you or whatever—” he stopped himself with a small curse, “shit, that was not how I planned on telling you. Whatever, as I was saying…” he trailed off, his gaze landing on your tattoo, the neck of your shirt having started to slip off your shoulder slightly.

“Honestly, I really hated that drawing,” he told you, your gaze following his to look at your tattoo, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

“This? Why? But it’s so pretty,” you insisted.

Jisung shook his head.

“It was my first design, and I wasn’t…you know, I just didn’t think it was that impressive, and all. Chan had told me to keep it in my portfolio but I was really close to just removing it.”

His gaze shifted to anywhere except your face, distracting himself by looking at the various things in the house, his gaze landing on the rainbow-coloured umbrella at the door.

Jisung sighed, shifting in his seat so he was leaning against the sofa now, his body angled towards you, making you unconsciously shift your body to face him as well, your breath hitching in anticipation for what he was about to say next.

“But then, you said you wanted it tattooed, and I honestly didn’t want you to get it but I had no choice, you know, blah blah customer’s preference first and all that bullshit,” he waved his hand for emphasis, “but then after I saw you with the tattoo more, I guess my perspective started to change? I mean, like, you kept insisting that it was so beautiful and all that..you know, seeing you with it kind of started to grow on me.”

Jisung paused, his gaze on a corner of the coffee table as he tried to find the right words to express how he was feeling, shrugging at you and just deciding to say whatever was at the top of his head and work from there.

“I guess it kind of made me love my work more, and like, trust myself, you know… because I realised how beautiful it could be.”

You looked at him wordlessly, your heart picking up speed at the tension in the room, something in you urging you to stand up, making you get up on your feet with no aim in mind.

So as not to look like a complete fool, your hands flew up to hug your arms, “oh, it’s a little um, chilly. Be right back,” you sprinted to your room, reaching in your cupboard for your hoodie and putting it on without a second thought, too preoccupied to notice how it stopped at your thighs and how the sleeves bunched up more.

Returning to the coffee table, you’d almost regretted your decision to put on the hoodie, feeling utterly warm from how flustered you were, especially with the way Jisung was looking at you with a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Sorry,” you murmured, averting your gaze as you tilted your head down, not expecting Jisung to tilt his head down as well so he could search for your gaze, making you scrunch your eyes shut, wrinkling your nose as you let out a huff of laughter.

“You can reject me, you know. I remember you said you already liked someone,” he told you, and Jisung meant it, not wanting anything but to make sure you were okay, and happy.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to,” you murmured, finally daring yourself to meet his gaze, your heart skipping a beat when you saw the way Jisung had smiled.

“I can’t say I’m not happy to hear that,” he told you.

Jisung had brought his hand up, lazily removing his glasses and looking at you finally, since now the other things in the house weren’t as clear in his vision, all that was important being that you were right in front of him, and he could see you clearer than anything.

“Why’d you take your glasses off?” You murmured, seeing him shrug, giving you a lazy smile.

“What? You scared I didn’t wanna see your face?” He teased, the flush on your cheeks making him give in almost immediately, “I’m kidding. I just didn’t feel like being distracted anymore.”

Maybe it was the atmosphere of the living room, or the lingering feelings the song had left in you, maybe it was even the way you felt like you were finally getting what you were waiting for.

Whatever it was, there was an overwhelming feeling of giddiness in you, especially with the way Jisung’s gaze had flickered between your lips and your gaze, and yet he’d made no move to lean closer to you, as if he was expecting you to move first.

Leaning closer, you’d let yourself glance down, getting distracted by the stain of black ink on the sleeve of your hoodie, only realising then that it wasn’t your hoodie.

“Shit, sorry I’m wearing yours by mistake again, it must’ve gotten mixed up,” you murmured, knowing it wasn’t your week to do laundry duty.

Jisung stopped you before you could stand up, pulling your hand forward so the only thing stopping you from losing your balance was his grip on your arm.

“I never thought I’d be saying this but, you can wear it.”

You’d sworn if your heart were any weaker, you wouldn’t have been able to last this long, Jisung seeming almost teasing with the way he’d inched closer at a painfully slow pace, so his lips were barely touching yours.

Just before he could pull back, you’d groaned in frustration, bringing your free hand up to cup the side of his jaw, meeting your lips with his.

And there it was again, the feeling of relief that washed over, knowing that this was very much happening, and that you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Jisung pulled away first, his pupils blown and his eyes giving away his surprise, huffing at you and folding his arms, increasing the distance between you.

“I’m only realising this now, what do you mean I’m oblivious?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll explain it again later, I swear.”

Jisung huffed, more dramatic this time, making sure you sensed his sulkiness (as feigned as it was), looking at you with a pout on his lips, “give me a kiss and I’ll forgive you.”

He puckered his lips, making you roll your eyes, though you didn’t hesitate to cup his face again, pressing your lips against his as your thumb brushed over his cheek gently, pulling away before he would’ve wanted. You couldn’t help yourself from laughing at the way he’d leaned forward, chasing your lips, frowning at you with a soft sigh when you’d straightened up.

“Can we eat now? The meat’s getting overcooked.”

===

lucas 11:30pm - dude I told u it would work if you smiled at him more cant believe u didnt believe me smh -

[lunatens]

felix felicis (iii)

word count: 3.0k

part iii/iv

genre: fluff, harry potter au

pairing: hufflepuff!felix x ravenclaw!reader

a/n: it’s been uhhhhhhhhhhhhh over a year since i last update this whoOPS i am so sorry to keep you all waiting. thank you to everyone who patiently waited, and to everyone who’s new, i hope you like it!! there will be one more part to this series (that i will try my best to write in less than a year lol) (also for obvious reasons w**jin will no longer be a part of this fic)

the day of the gryffindor vs ravenclaw quidditch match has your stomach in knots, not about the game itself (you really couldn’t care less about the results) but about the boy you’re going to be spending the next couple hours with.

“okay y/n, first things first: that tiny ball is the golden snitch, and-” 

“felix, i’m not stupid,”

“right, yeah, sorry i’m just uhh..excited is all,’ he says shyly. you watch as the two teams whizz around the pitch, trying to keep track of all the different balls and players as felix rambles on about the rules to you. despite chan, changbin and jisung being your closest friends, you’ve never actually come out to watch them play before, always finding an excuse to stay indoors instead of sitting miserable and alone on an uncomfortable bench in typically  less-than-pleasant weather. 

“wow y/n, your friends are actually really, really good quidditch players.” felix comments with a look of mild surprise. “too bad they’re not hufflepuffs!”

“actually, at your last game they were telling me they wish you were in gryffindor, so i guess you’re not too bad yourself,” you comment with a small smile, and you have to stifle a laugh as felix’s face turns bright red. you hate to admit it, but felix is really, really cute--especially bundled up in his yellow hat and scarf, his hair sticking out and gently waving in the breeze whenever someone flies by on broomstick.

you watch the game in silence for a moment, still trying to find the appeal for the sport. the game’s been going for a while now, with neither team having found the snitch yet, although gryffindor’s leading in points. jisung zooms around the far end of the pitch, expertly evading the ravenclaw beaters’ attacks and catching the quaffle with a flourish. it doesn’t take long before he’s put the quaffle through one of the ravenclaw goalposts, and the gryffindor crowd roars in excitement. jisung does a lap of the pitch, posing ridiculously and waving to the crowd to get them even more riled up. you hear felix squeal in excitement beside you, and turn to look at him with curiosity.

“that’s just the best feeling ever, flying through the air and just having fun like that. it’s so freeing,” he says with a contented sigh. you furrow your brows and turn back to look at jisung, who’s now rejoined his team as the game continues.

“really? i mean, it doesn’t seem that great. it looks so cold and windy, and what if you fall? yeah, no thanks i’d rather stick to the ground,” you state. it’s not like you want to offend felix or anything, but you just really don’t get the hype about flying. 

“what?? you don’t like flying y/n?? but it’s so epic!” felix says in disbelief, and you shake your head in response.

“the only time i’ve ever ridden a broomstick is way back in first year, when we had to learn the basics, and i’ve got no interest in trying again.”

“i’ve never met someone so opposed to flying,”

“well, that’s what happens when you fall off and break your wrist and can’t take proper notes for weeks,” you say, wrinkling your nose at the memory. “see unlike you, i’m not gifted with good luck.”

felix looks at you blankly for a moment, thinking to himself, before a wide grin creeps onto his face.

“no.”

“i haven’t even said anything yet!!”

“ok but i know what you’re thinking and i am NOT riding a broomstick, felix!”

“oh come on y/n, live a little!! it’ll be so much fun! what, are you afraid of heights?” felix asks teasingly. you shoot him a glare in response.

“yes!! besides, i don’t even own a broomstick.”

“yeah i kinda figured, so we can just use mine! i’m sure we’ll both fit, it might be a bit squishy though…” felix trails off in his own thoughts, and you choke on your own spit. you turn to look at the pitch, trying to focus on the game rather than thoughts of being pressed up against felix and holding onto him for dear life, breathing in the scent of h-

“eh, i think it’ll work fine. so it’s settled, after the game i’m taking you for a ride.” felix says definitively, interrupting your thoughts (good timing too, your brain was entering dangerous territory). 

“i dunno, felix…. it really doesn’t sound safe, i mean two people on a broomstick? i don’t care how lucky you are, i’m not taking any chances.”

“y/n, i promise nothing bad will happen. we won’t even go that high, and we can take it slow. trust me, it’ll be okay,” felix says, tentatively placing a hand over yours and looking into your eyes. you’re silent for a moment; has felix ever been this sincere in his life? you let out a sigh of defeat.

“i better not regret this.” you mumble, and felix squeals in excitement. your heart flutters a bit when he grabs onto your upper arm enthusiastically

“you won’t, y/n!! it’ll be so much fun, i can’t wait. it’s gonna change your life for the better,” felix says confidently, and although you roll your eyes at him, you can’t help but smile giddily to yourself. 

*** 

the game ends in an overwhelming victory for gryffindor, and you and felix dodge red and gold banners and streamers on your way out of the pitch past ecstatic gryffindors and gloomy ravenclaws. you finally make it out, your stomach filling with dread as you remember what’s happening now.

“i’ll be right back y/n, i’m just gonna go grab my broomstick from the locker room!” felix says excitedly, before rushing off into the depths of the pitch structure. you stand awkwardly by yourself, shoving your hands into your pockets for warmth. your breath escapes your lips in visibles plumes, the air growing colder as the sun begins to sink lower into the sky. one of your professors walks by, reminding you to return to the castle, and you nod, telling them you’re just waiting for a friend. it’s not a complete lie, right? you think to yourself. the adrenaline from not only your upcoming flight, but also breaking the rules again (and for felix, of all people) fills your body with jitters.

as you wait for felix for what seems like forever, your mind starts to wander. watching the game with him today was...surprisingly fun? and my goodness, the way his eyes sparkled or his voice got squeaky when someone made an awesome play was maybe the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. not to mention his freckled cheeks, rosy from the biting cold, or his tiny hands that flailed excitedly when talking about strategies. was chan right after all? do you have feelings for felix? no, that’s absurd. you’re just excited to have made a new friend is all...haha...right?

you don’t get the chance to think more about it before someone pounces on you from behind.

“Y/N!!! YOU CAME!!!!” jisung’s loud voice rings in your ear.

“ew get off me, you’re all sweaty,” you say with a grimace as you shove the excited boy off your shoulders. “but good job guys, you did great! who knew you were actually good at quidditch huh,” you tease, and chan gives you a playful nudge.

“i saw you with a certain hufflepuff boy in the stands,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, and you slap him on the arm.

“ok he practically forced me to go, it was the only way to stop his stupid begging and whining,” you argue, and your three gryffindor friends nod their heads in clear disbelief. 

“sure y/n, keep telling yourself that.” chan says, giving you a pat on the head which you swat away. 

“sorry that took so long, i-” felix’s out-of-breath voice stops mid sentence when he spies you with the other boys. “oh uh, hi,” he says shyly, clearly not expecting their presence. your friends grin knowingly and changbin and jisung start to whisper to each other. chan puts on a friendly smile and greets felix back, reaching out to shake his hand.

“thanks for coming out even though your house wasn’t playing,” he says, and felix seems to warm up to chan a bit. 

“i’d never turn down a chance to watch a good quidditch match! you guys are amazing,” he babbles, and you giggle at his enthusiasm, glad to see him and chan connecting. 

“you’re not so bad yourself dude. too bad we’ll have to crush you in a few weeks,” chan teases, and all the boys laugh.

“i’m impressed you were able to drag this one out, we’ve been trying to get them to come to our games for years,” changbin groans, gesturing to you. felix shrugs in response.

“i mean it wasn’t too hard, just a small bribe of some chocolate frogs and here we are,” felix says, and you feel three pairs of eyes burning into your soul. you can practically feel the smirks on their faces, and you can already hear the teasing you’ll experience later. 

“well anyways, we’re gonna hit up the great hall for some snacks on our way back, you coming? you’re welcome to join us, felix,” jisung invites.

“um actually...felixistakingmeforarideonhisbroomstick,” you splutter out, and you hear jisung make a strange noise of disbelief at what he just heard.

“sorry, what?” chan asks, and the grin on his face tells you he knows exactly what you just said. you let out an annoyed huff and repeat yourself.

“felix is taking me for a ride on his broomstick, and we better get going before it gets too late.” you say in defeat and embarrassment, reaching to grab a confused felix’s hand so you can get away from your friends before they have the chance to say anything about it. jisung opens his mouth to make what you assume is a raunchy joke about riding broomsticks, but a death glare from you shuts him up.

“okay, have fun! but not too much fun,” chan says with a wink before quickly ushering a protesting jisung and changbin back towards the castle. you’re grateful for the falling darkness, because you can feel how bright your cheeks are burning right now. 

“i’m so sorry about them,” you apologize, and felix laughs it off.

“they seem fun,” he says, then tugs on your hand gently. “follow me, i know the best place to go where we won’t get caught. trust me, i sneak out all the time with hyunjin and minho and we’ve never seen a soul.” you nod nervously as you follow felix’s lead, praying that you won’t regret this.

after a bit of walking and some light conversation, you arrive at a small clearing near the edge of the lake. 

“this is SO against the rules,” you mutter to yourself as you step over some large roots. felix gets to a spot where the sky above is clear (and growing darker by the minute), and there’s lots of room around you. he straddles the broomstick and motions for you to join him. as you make your way behind him, you can’t help but wonder if you're more nervous about flying or about the prolonged close contact with felix. there are so many layers of clothing between us, you tell yourself, it’s fine. you place your arms loosely around felix’s waist, nervous to get any closer.

“we’re gonna start off just hovering, okay? we’ll take it slow, it’ll be alright. you can tell me if you want to stop, but i really think it’ll be fine, trust me,” he says to comfort you, and you nod. felix kicks off the ground, and you gasp as you feel your feet dangling in the air. instinctively, your arms squeeze tightly around felix, and you press yourself as close to him as possible.

“i can feel your heart racing, it’s okay just relax!” felix says with a laugh.

“easy for you to say, you practically live on a broomstick,” you grumble, and you feel felix’s body shake with giggles underneath you.

“i’m gonna take us a bit higher now,” felix says, and you press your face into his back as you feel yourselves rise higher, the air getting colder as you ascend. you feel a gentle breeze tangling your locks, and the broomstick begins to inch forward. you open one eye slightly and let out a small squeak as you see how far the ground is below you. you’re almost above the height of the trees now, and felix is doing slow laps of the clearing. 

“see, it’s not too bad, right?” he asks, and you force yourself to open your eyes again. if you don’t look straight down, you have to admit the view is really nice. trees and rolling hills pepper the landscape, and you can see the quidditch pitch and hogwarts a bit farther in the distance. the last rays of sun are reflecting off of the lake, and the twilight sky is beginning to sparkle with the night’s brightest stars. 

“yeah, i guess it is pretty nice,” you begrudgingly agree. your knuckles are white as you hold on to felix for dear life, but the more time you spend up here the more you realize how stable he’s keeping the broomstick, and how much he does seem to be taking caution to make sure you’re comfortable. you let out a shaky sigh as you try to relax and take in the scenery as you hover above the trees. 

“there’s one more thing we can do, if you’re okay with it,” he says, asking for your trust. you say nothing, simply nodding into his back; you’re afraid if you open your mouth you’ll regret it. as soon as he has your confirmation, the broomstick suddenly bursts forward and you can’t help but let out a piercing shriek.

“FELIX!!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!!” you manage to yell over the howling wind. your eyes are tearing up from the cold night air, and your throat feels dry, and you’re convinced your heart’s stopped beating. felix just lets out a joyful laugh in response, yelling back to you “SHOWING YOU THE BEST THING ABOUT FLYING!” before plunging the nose of the stick into a dive towards the ground. he pulls up, of course, and does a few more fancy tricks before slowing down to a more leisurely pace above the treetops. 

you sit there in shock for a moment, wide eyed and breathless, trying to take in the wild turn of events.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!! YOU IDIOT WE COULD’VE DIED OR SOMETHING,” you scream in between breaths, still trying to get your heart to stop racing. 

“but we didn’t, right? i told you you could trust me!! was that not fun??” he asks, giddy with adrenaline. you choose not to respond, because he’s right--as much as his sudden moves scared the living daylights out of you, you have to admit it felt pretty freeing. 

“this is my favourite view,” felix says to change the topic, and you lift your head up to look around. you’re coasting above the lake, the last rays of sun painting the landscape golden. more stars are out now, and the glow of the castle feels truly magical and welcoming. you steal a glance at felix, cheeks nose and ears bright red from the cold but an awestruck look on his face nonetheless. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so peaceful and content, and the feeling spreads to you as you finally relax your grip a little and rest your cheek on felix’s back. 

“thank you, felix,” you mumble, feeling surprisingly at ease now. 

“sorry, what was that?” he asks and you can hear the grin in his voice.

“i’m not saying it again,” you warn, and he remains silent. part of you wishes you could live in this moment forever, gliding over the mirror-like surface of the water with the warmth of felix to stave away the cold tendrils of night air.

“we should uh, head back. it’s getting pretty late,” he eventually says after a comfortable silence passes. you nod in agreement, and felix takes you back to the quidditch pitch, where he returns his broomstick quickly before coming back to walk with you to the castle. the walk back is mostly silent, with the two of you hiding from professors and prefects a couple times but making it back to the ravenclaw common room unseen. there seems to be some shift in the energy between you now, the silences feeling a bit more awkward than before, but neither of you wants to acknowledge it. 

“well, uh, thanks for trusting me. and sorry if i scared you,” felix says with a small laugh as you reach to door to the common room. 

“it’s okay, i uh...i actually had a really good time. you’re right, you know, it is a really wonderful feeling being up there.” you admit. you have to stop yourself from adding “with you” to the end of that sentence. “so thank you for everything, lix,” you say and you cringe at the nickname that accidentally escaped your lips. felix tries to hold back a smile but fails miserably, blushing at the nickname. 

“goodnight, y/n,” he says after clearing his throat.

“um..goodnight,” you say before going to answer the riddle to enter the common room. as you mutter the answer and begin to enter, you hear felix call after you.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

there’s a long pause.

“uh, nevermind. goodnight!” he says, and before you know it he’s down the stairs and out of sight. confused, you creep up to your dormitory to get ready for bed. your dreams that night are filled with the wind rushing through your hair, beautiful landscapes whizzing past you, and most importantly of all, felix’s joyful laugh ringing in your ears.

[minjuwrites]

Penguin

A/N: Hey babies! I've been so terrible at uploading, I have so many unfinished stories that I like but haven't had any time to finish :( over break I will definitely have more time. Anyways, THANK YOU so so soooo much for the comments and likes on my posts. It means the world to me, you don’t understand the smile and happy dance I do when I see you guys enjoy what I wrote. Here's a short little story I thought of, since our little Hyuka is a penguin. HAVE A GOOD DAY!

Prompt: After one day a mysterious pebble shows up in your locker you find yourself and your new friend trying to find out who the “penguin” is.

Huening Kai x Y/N (gender neutral)

WARNINGS: A little insecurity from the reader? Other than that cute fluff :)

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

There it was, another smooth shiny rock sitting in your locker. You smile picking it up and analyzing the pretty rock excited to add it to your growing collection at home. It was strange really, the little pebbles started appearing a couple months ago with no explanation. At first you thought it was some kind of joke one of your friends were playing, it seemed like something strange that Beomgyu would do. Yet, when you brought it up to everyone at lunch they seemed just as confused as you were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Two months ago~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, why are you putting rocks in my locker.” You ask slamming your lunch on the table.

Yeonjun follows behind already being caught up on the little joke.

“What?” Beomgyu looks up at you confused with a half chewed sandwich in his mouth.

“Oh come on, don’t pretend like you don’t know.” Yeonjun laughs.

“Don’t know what?” Soobin pulls out the chair next to you sitting down.

“Beomgyu keeps putting rocks in my locker.”

“I seriously have no idea what you are talking about.” His shocked expression makes you think it really wasn't him.

“Can you please explain what is going on?” Soobin asks unwrapping his own meal.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Since Monday, I keep finding these little rocks and pebbles in my locker. I assumed it was Beomgyu because… you know that's just something weird he would do.”

He looks offended at first before mulling it over and nodding in agreement. The kid knew he was a little strange.

“Anyways, I guess it’s not him. I just don’t know who else it could be or what the reason is.”

Soobin looks deep in thought before casually taking a bite of his bread. “Maybe the rocks are like a death omen, or maybe its a stalker or maybe-”

“Oh god, please shut up.” You groan not needing to think the worst of the situation.

Taehyun walks to the table sitting down with Kai right on his tail. His presence makes your heart flutter and you feel the tip of your ears heat. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Taehyun asks.

You would speak but Kai's presence makes you panic. Truthfully it was your own fault. You had a massive crush on the boy turning you into a babbling blushing mess every time he even happened to make slight eye contact. It was pathetic and it didn’t help that the boy was shy himself.

“We are talking about Y/N’s possible crazy psychopath stalker who is probably waiting to murder her while she sleeps.” Beomgyu teases.

You smack his arm with a curse. 

“Are you okay?” Kai looks at you worried. “If you want we can tell the staff or the police.”

“I-it’s okay, Beomgyu is just joking it's nothing like that it's just..” You sigh.

“It’s just what?” Taehyun asks.

You explain the situation to the two and Taehyun looks at Kai who looks away from the boy.

“Maybe this person is trying to tell you something?” Taehyun leans back in his chair.

“What do you mean? Like some kind of warning?”

“Maybe, or maybe it’s like some kind of confession.”

“Confession?” You feel confused, there wasn’t anyone you could think of that showed signs of interest towards you. “You think so?”

“Yeah, maybe they are too shy to say anything.”

“Okay, but why rocks?” Soobin looks questioningly. 

“You know, penguins actually give the smoothest pebble they can find to another during courtship.” Taehyun stabs his food before looking up at you. “Maybe this person is your penguin.”

You smile at the idea, the thought of someone having a crush on you was exciting and you couldn’t lie that the mystery of it all was interesting.

“Yeah, my penguin…” You look up, catching Kai’s eyes before he gives you a tight smile and looking away just as quickly.

After that day, you found yourself eager to find the cute little rock left in your locker. There was something else that made you more excited though. A couple days after you brought up the rocks to the boys Kai had offered to help you figure out who your “penguin’ was. You both would wake up early hoping to catch the culprit and would stay after school as well waiting patiently. Neither of you saw the person once, and a part of you hoped you never would so the two of you could keep meeting. Kai was determined to help, always waiting in the hallways or in front of the gate for you to come and investigate together. Sometimes after school you two would go and eat and he always made sure to walk you home after “just in case” which always made your brain turn to mush. It didn’t take long before you two got closer, although you were still a nervous mess around him you also felt comfortable around him. Speaking became easier between you two and you got to see more of each other's personalities. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Present~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closing your locker you run your fingers over the smooth rock.

“Another one, huh?” Kai looks at the rock dancing in your fingertips. “You must be tired of waiting to see who it is…”

“Hm,” you smile at him slipping the rock in your coat pocket. “It’s kinda fun, you know? Trying to figure it out. Plus, we got to know each other more.”

Kai looks down with a smile nodding his head in agreement.

“Here I'll walk you home.” He smiles waiting for you to finish grabbing your stuff.

You thank him shutting your locker and following behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The Next Day~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You open your locker expecting another rock but, you find nothing. It’s a little strange but, no matter what, the little prize was waiting there by the end of the day. As the lunch bell rang you met up with Kai and the others stopping by your locker. You swing it open excitedly only to find nothing there. With a pause you ignore the worry feeling in your head and grab your lunch.

“What did they leave today?” Beomgyu peeks in your locker.

 You look over your shoulder at him before shutting your locker, after taking another quick glance of course. 

“N-nothing yet.” You fake a smile. “It’s not a big deal.”

Taehyun squints at you before leading the way to the cafeteria.

“You okay?” Kai asks, walking at your pace. “You seem a little… disappointed.”

“It’s nothing really,” except creeping thoughts began to fill your head. “I guess they just got over it? Maybe they realized I’m really not that interesting.”

He makes a face. “But you are interesting, you shouldn’t think like that. If anything maybe they got the courage to finally ask you.”

You open your mouth to protest but he stops you placing his hands on your shoulders.

“You know anyone would be lucky to have you. Seriously, everything about you is amazing.”

“Yo!” Yeonjun calls, the group had gone ahead of you two waiting for you to catch up. “You lovebirds coming?”

You see Taehyun whack the back of the boy's head causing him to rub it with an annoyed expression. You smile looking at the scene before noticing Kai’s hands are still resting on your shoulders. He seems to notice too pulling away quickly and scratching the back of his neck.

“I guess we should catch up with them.” He juts his head in their direction before walking with you to the others.

You smile feeling the lingering sensation of his hands on your shoulder that spreads through your body.

At the end of the day you reach your locker pausing before swinging the door open. Your eyes immediately see the empty space where the rock usually lays causing you to inhale sharply. Nothing. Your heart sinks, and you shuffle your stuff around wondering if maybe it had fallen somewhere. 

What you didn’t notice was Kai watching you while he fumbles with the bright pink stone in his hand. He’s thought of (and acted out, although he will never admit it) a million ways to give you the silly little rock but, as the moment comes his palms sweat and his heart speeds at an unhealthy pace. With a nervous exhale he walks towards you before giving a nod to Taehyun who in turn gives him a thumbs up.

“H-hey.” He cringes at how much he stumbles over the single word.

His nervousness turns to worry when he hears you sniffle and you turn to him with tears threatening to spill out.

“Y/N…”

“Um, I’m sorry I just-” You run off not wanting to cry in front of everyone.

“Wait!” Kai shouts but, you continue to leave the building not even looking back.

It felt stupid, to cry over something so small. You never realized how much those little rocks meant to you. You never had someone confess to you, no one had even had a crush on you as far as you knew. Every morning that little rock managed to make you feel a little more important to someone, although you weren't sure who. You also had a creeping thought that maybe, since the anonymous person stopped being interested, Kai and you would hang out less. You sigh feeling ridiculous while you wipe the tears that were starting to leak. 

“Y/N!” Kai calls running up to you.

You look up feeling embarrassed at how you acted before.

“Are you okay?” He looks at your glassy eyes with a frown.

“It’s stupid.” You smile. “I’m sorry for just storming off like that.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. What happened? You know I’m here to listen to you always.”

You feel a pang in your chest. You wondered how the universe created such a sweet boy.

“It's just, I didn’t get a rock today,” You sigh covering your heated face. “It meant a lot to me you know? I always felt like the person that no one would ever have a crush on. So, when I started getting them I felt a little excited that someone was interested in me. And… I guess I was worried that maybe if they stopped showing up you wouldn’t want to hang out as much.”

Kai’s heart skips a beat, you were really worried about something like that?

“You know, the whole wanting to know who the penguin was is an excuse?” He smiles reaching into his jacket pocket. “The truth is Y/N, I’ve always had a crush on you but, I was too scared to say anything. Everything about you is interesting, I like the way your eyes always smile before your mouth or how you always think about everyone no matter what the situation is. I meant it when I said anyone would be lucky to have you.”

You stare at the boy in complete shock. Processing the idea that the boy you have been pining for has had a crush on you the entire time.

“You didn’t get a rock today because,” he takes one of your hands placing the shiny pink stone in the palm before smiling. “I wanted to give it to you in person.”

A rush of emotion hits you like a wave. “You’re my penguin?”

He flashes a bigger smile before looking at his shoes with a pink tint in his cheeks.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he chuckles. “I actually wrote you a note and used the stone to make sure it stayed there. I asked Taehyun for your locker combination but, before you got out of class I panicked and grabbed the note.”

You laugh as the feeling of butterflies and other warm things fill your chest.

“You just seemed so happy after that I just decided to keep leaving them until I got the courage to confess. I ended up trying to “help” you figure out who it was so I could make sure you wouldn’t find out it was me. Once we started to hang out more I started realizing more and more how much I liked you.”

You hug him, catching him off guard at first but, he wraps his arms around you.

“I like you too, I always did.” You say into his chest. 

As you two pull away you clutch the stone in your hand before sliding it into your own pocket.

“Do you want to go get ice cream?” He asks cutely.

Laughing you nod your head before he slips his hand in yours swinging it lightly. He looks away attempting to hold back the smile on his face causing you to squeeze his hand.

Like a soulmate, he's your penguin. 

[suwya]

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 6

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Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

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Rating: M

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Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3

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A/N: Sorry for the waiting, but real life came along and I had to stop writing for a couple of weeks. Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta reader I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this. Happy Labour Day!

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Chapter 6 . .

Be not inhospitable to strangers,

lest they be angels in disguise.

(W. B. Yeats)

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When Killian regained consciousness he found himself in what reminded him of a military hospital. There were thin white curtains around his bed, but through them he could spot other beds like his, most of them empty. The room seemed large and dimly lit.

He closed his eyes and remembered the crash landing, the unknown desert planet, the great rock that was about to crush Henry, and that feeling of unease and imminent danger he had felt just before the impact. Where was he? And above all what kind of situation was he in, a good or a bad one? He opened his eyes again, and noticed he wasn’t alone. A woman was checking his IV, and a nearby monitor was beeping intermittently.

Killian tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in his lungs made him desist immediately. He groaned loudly.

“Look who’s awake.” Said the woman, who was now staring at him. “Hello, handsome.” She added cheerfully.

Killian had found himself dealing with uncharted waters several times in his life. He decided to play the waiting game. “This is usually my line, well, more or less.”

“Really? In this case, I'll warn my husband not to approach you.”

“Don’t worry I'm not into men, not recently at least.” He smirked.

“Oh, but my husband is quite the charming one.”

“I still prefer the company of a fair lady, if I could choose.” He winked and chuckled, and a dull pain made him gasp.

“Take it easy.” She immediately shifted her attitude from playful to worried. “How do you feel?”

“As if I've been hit by a rocket.”

“Not a rocket, but yes, you’ve been hit hard. You’ve suffered two broken ribs. And believe me, you were lucky, it could have been worse. Do you mind if I run some tests and see how you react?”

“No problem.”

While the woman was busy measuring his temperature, making him follow a small blue LED light with his gaze, and extracting some blood to examine later, he took advantage of the opportunity to observe her more closely. She had short black hair and green eyes, bright and lively in contrast to her very delicate skin. Killian found himself thinking of another pair of green eyes, which had been filling his thoughts frequently lately. The memory brought him back to reality quickly.

“What is this place?” He inquired, eager to know what had happened while he was unconscious.

“Welcome to Vernal-Den.” She answered smiling.

Killian tried to remember if he had ever read about this planet. “Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, we’re not very popular.”

Was she too concentrated on checking-in his vitals, or was she being too concise on purpose? He didn’t know, but he intended to keep an eye on her. “How long was I out?”

“A while.” Another elusive answer.

He decided to test the waters. “Were there ….other injured people with me?”

“If you’re referring to Henry and Emma, they are perfectly fine.” She seemed sincere. “They are staying at our place. Henry has visited you every day since you came in.”

“And Emma?”

“Well, she can’t come in. She’s not a relative of yours. But she has spent long hours sitting just outside that door.” She said pointing towards the exit. “I had to order her to go home and get some rest.”

After that she excused herself, saying that she had to attend to other patients.

He realized she hadn’t even told him her name. He didn’t know if he could trust her or not. The fact that she had avoided some of his questions sent chills down his spine. And most of all there was the Emma problem.

Why couldn’t she visit him? Was it true that it was only a matter of rules? Or was she in some kind of peril? He needed to know what was happening behind those doors that separated him from the woman that had been pestering his dreams in the last ten years of his life. He had to know that she was alright. To hell with rules! He thought. And by the way, when was the last time he followed one. He had to get out of this place. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his lungs was so strong that his vision started to blur and cold sweat formed on his temples. He lay back down on the bed, aware that in his conditions he couldn’t have gone far before collapsing unconscious on the floor. He promised himself to solve the problem as soon as he had enough strengths, but he couldn't dwell too much on that thought, because sleep was reclaiming his mind again.

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~·~·~·~

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Time passed very slowly, or so it seemed, but maybe it was simply the fact that every day looked the same. Killian was mostly asleep, probably due to the painkillers introduced through the IV, and when he woke up he couldn't tell how long he had been out, he couldn't even tell if it was day or night. There were no windows in that room.

During one of the moments when his mind regained consciousness, he felt the mattress drop slightly to one side and he slowly opened his eyes.

“You are awake! How do you feel? Can you breathe? Of course you can, you would be dead otherwise! Does it hurt?” Henry was sitting at the end of the bed, and he was asking a lot of questions, as usual. “Sorry.” He suddenly looked contrite. “I should let you rest, but…”

“It’s ok, lad.” Killian cut him off. “I’m glad to see you’re all in one piece.”

The boy greeted him with a wide grin.

Killian remembered the last moments before getting injured, and he was relieved to know that he had been able to prevent that rock from hitting Henry. But other worries crowded his mind. “How about your mom?”

“She’s fine. She’s outside. They won’t let her in. You know, only relatives and all that stuff.” He explained.

“I see. And why are you…?”

Henry didn’t let him finish the question. “I told them I’m your son.” He whispered with a conspiratory smile.

“Clever boy.” Killian’s chuckle turned soon into a cough due to the pain.

“Does it hurt?” The boy asked, frowning.

The man dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t want the lad to feel responsible for his well-being. “How many days have passed since we landed here?” He asked, changing the subject.

“I don't know exactly.” And at Killian’s questioning look, he added, “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“People live underground here,” The boy started to explain, “With no opportunity to look outside. And there are no clocks. My watch had probably broken when we arrived, it doesn’t work anymore.”

The man hummed, he was starting to understand. The lack of windows, the elusive answer he had received from the dark-haired nurse… everything was beginning to tally in Killian’s head. “I want you to think carefully about everything you saw outside this room. Did you feel something was wrong?”

The boy shrugged. “I don't know.” He seemed to ponder. “This place is strange. Lots of corridors and passages underground. We are not allowed to go out into the open. They say it’s dangerous. But I never felt a threat or something. I would rather say it’s boring.”

“Why boring?”

Henry was trying to find the right words to explain it. “All the days are the same, people repeat the same actions every day. They say it’s useful to maintain a routine. But I don’t think Mary Margaret and David are bad people.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Killian asked.

“Oh, yeah, Mary Margaret, she is your nurse. We’re staying at her home. She is very nice. And David is her husband. He showed me the greenhouse. It’s awesome and huge, you should see it! But I don’t think he works there. I don’t know what his job is.”

Routine? New people? A greenhouse? Well, that was a lot of information to process. But Killian felt sleep calling him back. Next time I see that lady Margaret, I’m going to ask her not to put more painkillers in my IV. He thought. “Thank you, Henry, for everything. But I may need to rest for a while now.” He managed to say before falling asleep again.

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~·~·~·~

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Emma knew Killian was feeling better, Henry had told her about their short chat, and some of her child's enthusiasm had even infected her positively, but she continued to feel restless, she wanted to make herself useful. Most of all, she wanted to see Killian again.

All this absurd situation was her fault. And no, she was not thinking about the fact that Killian was lying on a hospital bed because of some bad decisions she had made lately. No. She was not going down that path again. She had already spent a lot of hours regretting many choices done in the last month.

But this was nonsensical, why couldn’t she visit a friend that was hurt and maybe in need of some company? She had actually had a chance to say that she was his wife; after all in the eyes of her guests, she and Killian had a son together, so why not lie a bit more and make Mary Margaret believe that she and Killian were married. But the thought of a possible long time spent together on this planet feigning to be a happily married couple scared her, and she couldn’t go on with the lie.

So there she was, sitting on a very uncomfortable metal chair in the waiting room. She had spent more hours there than she could count.

David had passed by to greet his wife, and he had offered to take Henry with him, on the way back home. So she was left alone with her thoughts.

Mary Margaret peeked out the door with a steaming mug in her hand. “Take this. It will help.”

She agreed with a nod. “Thank you.” She sipped some of the hot liquid and it felt like her nerves were starting to relax a little.

“You should go home and rest. It's late.” The woman said.

“Mary Margaret let me enter.” Emma pleaded for the umpteenth time.

“We have already talked about it. You know I can’t do that. There are strict rules down here, and the best way for us to survive is to follow them.”

“This is insane. I’m not a dangerous criminal or someone who is plotting to destroy this planet. I just want to see him. Please.” She begged.

The dark-haired woman seemed to be pondering all the possible consequences. “All right.” She sighed. “Let’s just say that I’m going inside and leave the door ajar, by mistake, of course. I have to check some very important documents, so I’ll be busy and concentrated. I’m not going to ask you what you’re going to do in the next... fifteen minutes or so. Okay?”

“Thank you.” Emma handed her the cup back, rising from her chair. “You won’t regret it.”

After Mary Margaret disappeared behind the door, Emma waited some minutes before going after her. The room was large and there were many beds, she had no idea where Killian was, but after a quick look at the surroundings, she discovered that only a couple of all the beds were occupied.

She approached one of those and gently opened the curtain trying not to disturb the patient lying inside.

Killian seemed asleep. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. She could only imagine the pain he was going through. She had her heart in her throat because she felt responsible for the situation. If they hadn't taken a detour because she had requested it, they'd probably all be home safe and sound by now.

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted her with a painful grin.

Immersed as she was in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that he had woken up. She smiled, trying to be strong and not show her inner turmoil. “Do they treat you well here?”

“I'm not complaining. The nurse is kind and the food is edible.” He tried to downplay the situation. “Although I would prefer the care and attention of a certain blonde.” He winked.

Emma chuckled. Then she went closer to him and sat down on the side of his bed, trying not to cause him any more pain. She looked him straight in the eye, and then, gently, she took his hand in hers, intertwining her fingers with his. She saw him swallow hard, and the beeping of his heartbeat accelerated on the monitor. She smiled softly again. “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”

She saw how he wet his lips before answering as if his mouth had been suddenly dry. “It was the right thing to do.” Was his answer, but his voice came out slightly choked.

Emma looked back, checking if any hospital employee was nearby, “I shouldn’t be here, and unfortunately my time is running out. But I wanted to see you... needed to see with my own eyes that you are ok... well, more or less.” She whispered, with her gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact. The physical connection of their joined hands was already arousing too many contradictory emotions inside her.

“Aye. I know the feeling.” He replied, letting her know that he had been eager to establish contact with her throughout his stay in the hospital.

At those words, she stared at him again. “Get well soon.” She bent down and dropped a mild kiss at the corner of his lips. “We need you.”

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~·~·~·~

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Killian was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. This time there was no way he would fall asleep again. Every time he thought about what had just happened his beeping monitor sped up. He blushed. It had been just a chaste kiss, nothing compared to the hot and breathtaking one they had shared a few days before. But she had said it had been a one-time thing and he had promised himself not to indulge in those lustful thoughts anymore. Yet, this last kiss had seemed much more real, and meaningful... it had left him with a feeling of hope.

Hope and distress. Emma was such a strong and beautiful woman, a marvelous creature, as he liked to describe her in his mind, and a princess even. And what was he? A rebel, and a scoundrel. Or a rapscallion... whatever. Okay, maybe not anymore, but he had been in the past, for many years. He had been trying to redeem himself lately. But was he worth enough of her? That was the million dollar question.

He was still ruminating on it when the known brunette peeked out the curtains. “Hello. How are you today?” She greeted him with a bright smile, as usual.

“Better.” He hoped the monitor on his right wasn’t showing his state of mind.

She came closer. “Do you mind if I check your ribs? It's time to change the dressing.” After a short pause, she added, “I'm sorry, but we don't have the best equipment to assist our patients. We have to work with what we have available on this planet.” She said pointing to the bands that covered his chest.

Killian nodded, and Mary Margaret started to untie the bandages. She seemed concentrated on her task, probably she was trying to avoid causing him any pain. It was only when she started to apply an ointment on the bruises, that she spoke again. “You love her.” It was just a whisper, and Killian doubted if he had heard correctly. But then she added “Emma.”

It wasn’t a question, and he pondered what was the correct answer, or if she was expecting one. “I'd go to the end of the world for her… Or the multiverse.” He said eventually.

“And she for you, I take it?”

Killian chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“What’s the problem?” She looked at him surprised. Then took some clean gauzes and started to wrap them on him.

“She's bloody brilliant, an amazing woman. She fights for her son and always does what’s right.” Killian’s voice was so full of admiration.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Mary Margaret inquired.

Killian shook his head again. “She raised the bar very high. The fact is, I don't think I measure up.”

The woman folded the old bandages and took the ointment bottle, then she stood up, she was making an exit when she stopped short. “Since you came here I've been watching you.”

“I don't know if I should be flattered or scared.” The man tried to ease the tension of the moment.

“We don’t have many foreigners on this planet, but believe me, you're not one of the bad guys. You sacrificed yourself for the sake of a young boy. There's good in your heart.” She smiled at him softly. “I’m going to look for the doctor; I bet you’ll be leaving this room soon.”

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~·~·~·~

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The following day started the same as the previous ones. But during the first hours of the evening a man in a white coat came to visit Killian. He explained the medications and precautions to be taken to him, some movements that he should avoid for a while, and other tips for a speedy recovery. Then he handed over some papers for the patient to sign to be discharged. Finally some good news.

After a while redressing and packing up his few belongings in his satchel Killian went to the door. Walking hurt a bit but nothing he couldn’t bear.

Mary Margaret was already waiting for him, and a tall blonde guy was with her. “You must be Jones.” He said. When they shook hands, Killian learned his name was David Nolan, and he remembered Henry had mentioned him in his conversations. “I’m going to take you to our humble abode.”

Nolan's house was in fact modest. A loft with a large dining room, a kitchenette, a bedroom, and a small bathroom on one corner, all open, without doors, except for the bathroom. There was a raised bedroom opposite it, whose access was a metal stair.

Dinner was good, if a little awkward. Emma didn't interact much, and Killian wanted to ask if something was troubling her, but he preferred to wait for a better time, perhaps a less crowded one. Henry entertained them with what he had done throughout the day and kept repeating how glad he was that Killian was back with them.

But the man was still a bit cautious with those new people around him. He didn’t know them, especially the Nolan guy, who had been silent for most of the dinner, glancing sidelong at him as if he wanted to study him thoroughly before making a personal judgment. The feeling was mutual, Killian thought.

Just after dessert, David started to speak. “What will you need to restore your ship?” He asked.

“Uh… a new stabilizer, I think, and some parts of the propulsion engine for sure. But I’ll have to look closely at the damages to be sure there’s nothing else broken.”

The blond man nodded. “Not many ships come and go from here. But I hope we can find all the pieces you need.”

“Thank you, mate.”

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the hangar where your ship is. We’ll have a look at it.” He seemed sincere in his generosity.

“May I help?” Henry barged in.

A chorus of “No!” echoed the room.

“I appreciate the support, but it could be dangerous.” Killian explained.

“I hate being here. I feel trapped.” The boy complained.

Mary Margaret sighed. “This is a feeling that will vanish with time.”

The woman was no doubt trying to instill some optimism, but Killian didn't like the idea of staying in that place longer than necessary. “Well, then, let’s hope we could leave this planet before the feeling has entirely vanished.” He made a grin and passed his hand on his side.

“Time for resting.” The brunette stated although it sounded more like an order. “But before that, we should change those bandages. Emma, would you like to help me?”

“Me?” Emma, who had been silent and a bit on the sidelines all evening, seemed to re-emerge from wherever she’d gone.

“He won’t be able to do it by himself when you won’t live here anymore. It’s better if you learn how to help him.” Mary Margaret clarified.

Emma looked like she was going to object, but in the end, she asserted. “Sure.”

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~·~·~·~

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If a certain nervousness had taken hold of Emma as she climbed to the upstairs room, it disappeared the instant Mary Margaret helped Killian get rid of his shirt. That wasn’t a thorax, it was a nautical chart. Most of it was covered by gauze, but she could still spot many marks and scars.

There was a tattoo, two of them to be exact, but Emma saw just one at first. It was on his right forearm; it was a big red heart with a dagger running through and the name “Milah” across it. Emma made a mental note to ask him later who she was.

Mary Margaret showed her how to unfasten the bandages, and then she ordered her to stand behind him, to help better in removing them all.

On his back, Emma saw the second tattoo, on his right shoulder. It was an old nautical instrument she had read about in a book when she was younger, but she couldn’t remember the exact name. The drawing was beautifully detailed, even if it had faded, it was probably older than the other one, she thought.

And when all the gauze was out of the way, she saw them: tiny, blurred, old scars that studded most of his back. Emma wondered what kind of life he had to endure when he was very young.

Mary Margaret asked her to help with the ointment. She had already opened the bottle and was showing the blonde woman how much cream to use. But Emma wasn't listening, standing now in front of the man, her attention was caught by the glorious chest hair that was covering most of his torso.

Okay, there was also a big, horrible bruise on his right ribs, but Mary Margaret was saying that it seemed on the way to a fast recovery, if the yellow and purple veining was some indication.

Emma was ogling and she wasn’t ashamed of it either. The amount of hair decreased in the lower part of his chest, leaving a black trail that disappeared under the hem of his pants.

"See something you like?" Emma was abruptly taken back to reality by a smug Killian that was smirking at her while arching an eyebrow. She blushed. She was caught red-handed, but she couldn’t let him win. She took advantage of the fact that Mary Margaret was looking for something in a nearby drawer, to get closer to him. She looked at him lasciviously from under her lashes. “Maybe?” She purred.

Now it was his time to blush, he looked intently at his feet, but she found the bright red that appeared on his ears extremely endearing. Point for Emma.

Mary Margaret taught the other woman how to fix the bandages, and Emma had to use some tiny hooks to hold them together. She did not miss the opportunity to casually slide her fingers over a part of his chest hair that came out of the bandages.

“Bloody Hell!” Killian muttered.

Emma retreated her hand immediately. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” Worries that she had done something wrong clouded her gaze.

“Apologies.” Killian was scratching behind his ear, in evident embarrassment. “While I do enjoy two lovely ladies attending to my needs, I'm not used to someone taking care of me…” He smiled and brought his mouth close to Emma’s ear: “I’m usually the one who devotes full attention to a woman’s needs.” He whispered, but clearly not as quietly as he would have liked, because Mary Margaret's answer - “Well, you will have to put that off for a while” - made him blush again like a schoolboy scolded by his teacher.

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~·~·~·~

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Suddenly it was bedtime. Everyone was busy making preparations and taking shifts for the bathroom to change for the night. Killian was upstairs, staring at the bed he knew he had to share with Emma, who was arranging a pillow on the nearby sofa. He passed a hand through his hair and then scratched a spot behind his right ear. “I'll crash on that couch.” He stated as if it was the most logical conclusion to a battle he was fighting inside.

“Don't be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “It's barely long enough for Henry. Plus, you’re still recovering, you absolutely need to rest.”

He didn't seem very convinced. “Emma, I'm not sure this is a good idea.”

“And why is that?” Was her exasperated reply, turning towards him with her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do? Seduce me with a couple of broken ribs and a ten-year-old boy sleeping next to us?”

He lifted his arms and surrendered. “Fair point.” He conceded.

In no time they were all ready for the night and Henry was snoring softly on the sofa. Killian was supine, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the events of the day. In any case, sleep had no intention of coming, but he tried not to move. He didn’t want to wake up his roommates. Emma was lying close with her back to him and he didn’t know if she was already in the arms of Morpheus.

He turned his head to observe how her upper body moved with the rhythm of her breathing, blond curls covering her shoulders. Killian had to repress the urge to touch them. And as if responding to his call, she stirred and turned to face him.

Her eyes opened lazily. “Still awake?” She murmured.

“I have the feeling that I’ve slept enough for the rest of my life.” He whispered. “But you can’t rest either, I see.”

She didn’t answer.

Perhaps it was the closeness, perhaps it was the fact that they had spent the last few days apart. Killian didn't know how he found the courage, but he lifted his left arm as an invitation. “Come here,” he said.

She seemed to ponder the situation, chewing her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He decided not to think about all the possible implications of that sentence. He was falling in love with her, he was aware of it. Probably the simple doubt that she might not reciprocate was already hurting him, but he knew that at that moment she was referring only to his physical bruises. “You won’t.”

She slipped under the sheets towards him, resting her head gently on his left shoulder and placing a hand on his chest, avoiding the bruised part. Not many minutes passed before her lids grew heavy and she dozed off to the rhythm of his heartbeats. Killian placed a soft kiss on her forehead.