#this is already 13k i hate me honestly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

baekluvie · 2 years ago

Text

obsession | chapter 6

pairing: reader x baekhyun

word count: 13k

genre: yandere au | this is heavily inspired by the show 'you'

tag list: @mayboy @vishary15 @greasywall @loversmantra @cityexos @kavvs @prettyboybaek @byunds

(let me know if you want to be tagged ^^)

warnings for this chapter: murder, mental illness(s), mention of death(s), implied violence, violence, manipulation, mature language, obsessiveness

do not read if: you are triggered by any of the warnings i listed prior. this fic will contain this theme throughout the chapters. if you are not comfortable with that; please skip this post. please remember this is a work of fiction.

viewer discretion is advised

playlist for this chapter:

space song - chanyeol's pov

ylang ylang - chanyeol's pov

heather - junmyeon's pov (this song fits perfectly for junmyeon in this im crying)

doin' time - baekhyun pov

blood // water - baekhyun pov

(a/n): this chapter is waaaay longer than i planned it to be. but nonetheless it was very fun to write. a little evil i won't lie lol. but THIS means i won't be ending it anytime soon, there's so much i need to unfold to you guys hehe. but i hope you guys enjoy this and don't hate me too much for it. love u guys. like always, replies are open. please send me messages, requests, your thoughts! always appreciated! reblog and like as it really helps me out. have fun reading!

Chanyeol POV

He didn't have any motivation to get up. He wanted to simply stay in bed, sulk and complain to himself that he put himself in the situation; there was no going back from any of it. But instead, on a well deserved day off, he was shaken from his dark thoughts with the sound of his phone going off. Chanyeol grunted as he moved his body to lay on his side, facing the bedside drawer next to his bed. He watched as his phone began to light up in the dark room, the only source of light coming from the windows, broadcasting beautiful Seoul within his sight. He could never complain about the view, the tall buildings never seeming to end, the way the horizon broke through the bland identical towers; furthermore proving just how successful he was, living in his own loft in one of the most expensive areas around.

So he grudgingly picked up his phone, his eyes squinting from the brightness. He lets his fingers trace some of the scratches that were on the screen, doing so while he read the multiple messages he was receiving.

(4 New Messages)

(7 New Messages)

(8 New Messages)-

"Fuck, I get it." He opened up his phone lockscreen, bringing him to the plethora of texts.

We need to talk.

I'm kind of freaked out man

what the fuck

Jun is fucking pissed

did you know that?

i don't want to deal with his depressed ass

are u up

r u jacking off

Instead of just replying back, Chanyeol pressed the contact profile and brought his device to his ear. He yawned, stretching out his long limbs on his white bedsheets. This wasn't exactly anything new to him, in fact, he was honestly used to it at this point. Especially when it came to... well, him.

"Dude?"

"What, Sehun."

"Did you read my texts?"

"Do you think I'd be calling you on my day off if I didn't?" He scoffed.

Sehun laughs on his end, making Chanyeol break into a smile as well.

"We have to meet up. Like anywhere. I don't care. But we need to talk about-"

Chanyeol suddenly feels flushed, his heart drops, not wanting to even hear the name.

"No. I don't want to talk about him. I'm done with him."

He bundles a fistful of sheets in his grasp, his teeth already gritting together. The dull reminder of his last encounter with Baekhyun is still evident in his features. Chanyeol could talk about anything else; anyone else. But even so, in the back of his head, he knew that he could never really escape his best friend. Like he was dreading moments earlier, the truth, moreso, he could never go back. He bites his bottom lip, looking up angrily to his ceiling.

Sehun doesn't say anything, his breath coming out in ragged breaths.

Chanyeol's eyebrow raises, frustration building in his chest.

"What the fuck is it?"

"Well you said not to talk about him-"

"Yeah well, it seems like this matter won't be solved if I'm not involved so I don't think I have a fucking choice, huh?"

"It's about Y/N."

Chanyeol sits up abruptly as he grips the phone tighter.

"What about her?"

"Please... not on the phone. I'm too freaked out by him, dude. He could be listening or something."

"Sehun, he's not that fucking smart. Don't give him credit for something he can't even do."

"He might not be that smart, yeah. But he has connections, man. Why don't I just come over?"

And that's how Chanyeol ended up on his day off; sitting in his living room with his black robe on; drinking some coffee as Sehun poured out everything that had occured a couple days prior.

"Baekhyun... you have to stop him, Chanyeol. He changed Y/N. I don't even know how- but dude. She's not answering any of my texts- my calls. She always lets me know how she's doing. This is completely out of character."

Sehun ran his hand through his quiffed up hair, shaking his head slightly as his eyes tore into Chanyeol's. They were bloodshot, dark circles sprinkled underneath them. Sehun was young, just a fucking kid. He shouldn't have to be worrying about someone, he already has enough to deal with; a stressful job, debt, and now another thing to pile on top of that... Chanyeol was afraid he was going to break if he didn't do something.

He sighed to himself as he placed his coffee mug on the glass table in front of his couch. He notices how Sehun's was left untouched, the steam no longer pouring from the rim. He lets his body rest in the cushions, crossing his arms together as his eyebrows furrowed together.

"So you're telling me that Baekhyun killed someone- again. This isn't anything new, Sehun. What do you want me to do about a case that's already been reviewed and written off as a suicide?" His foot taps against the floorboards quickly.

Sehun shrugs, scratching his arm and looking around skittishly.

"I- I don't know. I feel like there's something different about it this time around. Y/N covered for him. She looked off, there was blood on her too."

This piqued his interest. He leaned into the conversation, his hands clasping together.

"She had blood on her? What, so... what are you trying to say? That Y/N killed her?"

The younger one licked his lips, diverting his attention to his abandoned coffee.

"I don't want to assume-"

Chanyeol grabbed his mug and threw it across the living room, the sound of it crashing against the wall echoing in the empty loft. Sehun squirmed in his seat, wincing as Chanyeol walked up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He turns his head to the side as his lips curl up, a quiet sob escaping from his throat. Chanyeol shook him, tightening his firm grasp on the other's shirt, making him look directly at him.

His own nose was flaring, his teeth grinding against another, the only emotion he felt was complete, and utter desperation. He needed to know what this could actually be about; if it was true, and God, he really hoped that it wouldn't be, so he could possibly save you. He wished someone could have saved him when he got interloped with Baekhyun.

"No games, Sehun. I'm being fucking serious. If you think that she was capable of doing that- you need to fucking tell me."

His words came out like bullets, firing each and every single one into Sehun's head. When he still doesn't say anything, Chanyeol yells at him, spit flying in multiple directions. He lets go of him, pushing him back on the chair he was sitting in before. He turns his back to him, bringing his hand to cover his mouth, holding onto his lips as he looks around in anger. Sehun's sobs were getting on his nerves, but not because it was annoying; because Chanyeol knew that they were a submission of guilt, the truth. Sehun knew that you were the one who did the heinous crime, he just didn't want to believe it. Chanyeol was used to the never ending cycle of Baekhyun's killings, fuck, he would be nervous if he wasn't calling him in the middle of the night to help him dispose of a body. But Sehun wasn't like him, he wasn't able to confront the truth like Chanyeol could. He was too innocent, he couldn't grasp the understanding of someone killing another just because.

"I- I don't want her to get in trouble, Chan. You have to understand-"

He spins around, rushing forward toward Sehun, getting down on his knees and holding the other's legs. The poor kid was a wreck, his lips formed into a pout, tears drenching his cheeks, his nose a shade of red. He tries to relax his features, his voice hitching as he speaks to him slowly.

"If she did this, we can't let her do it again. You have to understand Sehun."

He shook his head, putting his own hands over Chanyeol's, his knuckles a shade of white.

"No, please. She can't go to jail, she's just confused- he's fucking maniuplating her. We just need to kill him-"

Chanyeol lets his head dangle down, a broken chuckle leaving his lips.

Sehun shakes him a little, his frazzled state becoming overwhelmed at this point.

"Chanyeol- we- we can do this. We can get away with it. I've thought about it-"

Chanyeol doesn't bring his head up as he cuts him off.

"We'd be no better than him. Don't you get it?"

A beat.

He looks back up with a heartfelt smile, a single tear falling from his eye.

"In everything, he wins. He will always win."

Sehun gapes at him, his tears falling on Chanyeol's hands. He purses his lips together, shaking his head. He pushes himself off the chair, grabbing his phone that was left on the table, pausing to look down at Chanyeol. He was frozen in place still, his knees scraping across the floor, still staring at the empty space that once held another body.

"If you won't help me kill him, I'll do it myself."

He starts to walk out, freezing as his hand reaches the doorknob. Chanyeol turns his head then, staring at the back of his friend; his brother. His lip trembles as he blinks back more tears, his vision of him becoming blurry.

"Sehun. Please. Don't."

"You know. I always looked up to you. You were always so composed, so... unreachable. I always felt like I was close to you though. You're so admirable, Chan. I think that's why I liked you so much, why I wanted to be a part of your life. But now," He turns back to look at Chanyeol, his eyes red as he hesitates.

"You're nothing to me. I will never be what Baekhyun is to you. And in some, twisted way, you're worse than him. Because I know if I asked Baekhyun; if you, were the one fucking killing innocent women, he would do it without me convincing him. Do you know why? Because that's what friends do. And you're no fucking friend."

Chanyeol lets out a foreign, uncontrolled crack of his voice. He reaches his hand out to Sehun, crawling towards him as he begins to cry.

"Please, you have to understand-"

Sehun opens the door, standing in the doorframe, back once again turned to face Chanyeol.

"You can't even be loyal to something as small as your best friend."

And that hits Chanyeol right in the heart. He pauses his movements, his nose congested, his chest tight. The same words his own father distastefully instilled in him over and over again. It was back; the haunting feeling of being nothing but the shadow of his father. The same man who didn't care for his own family, his friends. He was truly, and utterly, exactly like him.

Everything he worked so hard for, it was all for nothing. He never wanted to be like the man who brought him into this world, but as he watched Sehun's silhouette disappear from his sight, he knew that it was over.

He starts to laugh now, the dreadful noise bouncing off the walls. His body hits the floor, and he brings his knees up to his chest, circling his arms around them. His tall frame shakes as his laughter shakes his entire being.

"Like father, like son." He whispers to himself.

Junmyeons' POV

"Hello?"

Junmyeon sat at his desk, plucking through some documents that were placed in front of him moments prior. He licks his indent finger, thumbing through a flurry of white papers, his eyes skimming the words quickly. He pauses his actions as he hears the recognizable voice on the other end of the line, relaxing in his chair and smiling.

"You okay? I can't talk for long, I'm swamped in a burglary case-"

"I really need to talk to you right now. In private."

He clicks his tongue, looking at the workload he was about to dive into. His fingers drum against the desk, he brings his left arm up to examine his watch. He was expected elsewhere on his lunch break, but the immediate worry in his friend's voice alarmed him.

"How important can it be, Sehun?"

"Too important. Can you meet me or not?"

Junmyeon frowns.

"I was actually planning on meeting Y/N at a cafe nearby the station. You could accompany us if you want?"

Sehun's voice hitched to a different octave, and Junmyeon sits up in his chair, absentmindedly looking off with a concerned expression.

"T-that's fine. It's better actually. Can you maybe go on your break now?"

Junmyeon lowers his voice to a whisper, his eyes flickering outside his office, watching his staff behind their own desks typing away.

"What is this about, Sehun?"

"I'm going to tell the truth."

Junmyeon covers his mouth, feeling both unsure and nervous.

"The truth?"

"I can't say anything else on the phone. Just trust me. You're going to want to hear this."

He doesn't say anything else to Sehun, bringing the phone away from his ear and clicking the end button. He sets his device face down on the desk, pushing himself away from the dilemma he knew was unfolding. His eyes go back to the sight of people working, his lips puckering as his mood soured. He got up from his seat, taking long strides to his window, bringing his hand to close the blinds.

Once the blinds were completely closed, he turned around to face the full length windows on the other side of the room, letting the warmth of the sun absorb into his skin. He sighs as he walks towards them, his eyes watching as cars zoomed by on the street, a couple walking hand in hand together. His lips tighten together to form a stubborn frown, his arms behind his back, hands clasped together. He starts to think about his encounter with Baekhyun. He ponders on him, remembering his scent, the small details of blood underneath his fingernails. He feels his lip twitch as he can almost smell the disgusting stench of death on him; and yet how another human being can simply dismiss it, be almost accustomed to it, could talk so carelessly.

He then remembers seeing you. A small hiccup of his heartbeat pounding against his chest startles him. He almost feels embarrassed, and he coughs to regain his thoughts. You were overflowing with anxiety that night, the strucken nerves you displayed filled to the brim and threatening to topple over. He could never forget that, most importantly since you have never been like that in front of him. You were always able to talk to him with the utmost confidence, and that was something he admired about you. Most of his employees were too nervous to even look him in the eye.

But you?

You got under his skin, interrupted his thoughts. You didn't care for his position of power, in fact you challenged it. He brushed it aside as being proud of you. You were another person who exchanged the same morals as him, the same mindset. You were a person who didn't let any obstacle stand in your way... you stood for what was right. And somehow along the way, he forgot you were his subordinate. That you weren't just someone he was able to chat and get some drinks with. The undeniable feeling that you were different from other women, you were yourself.

And your own self was captured by him.

He didn't know exactly when this exact feeling arose in him. He could probably pinpoint one memory, something that he replayed in his mind when work was beginning to become too much for him. He smiles at the sky, reminiscing.

After a long shift, the two of you decided to go get some drinks.

"I told you I would get them. And here you were, not believing in me. I'm hurt."

You sat next to him at the bar, three shot glasses in front of both of you. You had shoved him with your left arm softly, and Junmyeon could already feel his face warming up from the last shot he gulped down his throat. He shook his head, hissing from the bitter taste of vodka left on his taste buds. He chuckles to himself, raising his hand to the bartender, issuing another round of shots.

You tilted your head to look at him, and Junmyeon cocked his to match. Your cheeks were probably a brighter red than his, your skin glowing. Small lines crinkling next to your eyes appear, and you break out into a large smile.

"What? Not going to say anything to that? Come on, you have to fight back!"

He tossed his hands up, smirking.

"What can I say? You were right. I shouldn't have doubted you."

You nod, giggling to yourself. The small clear shot glasses are placed in front of them, and Junmyeon grabs it without hesitation. You followed suit, spinning your chair so you were facing him fully. You raise the disgusting poison that would fill your bodies up, waiting for him to do so as well. He gave in, shaking his head and closing his eyes. He suddenly feels your hand on his cheek, and that makes his eyes shoot up to meet yours. He freezes in that moment, fully taking in how the wind blew your hair to the right. You were shaking your head as you laughed, your eyes twinkling like the stars in the sky.

But Junmyeon thought they couldn't really compare to them anyways.

His clouded mind doesn't even register what you were saying, so he has to ask you again what you had said.

You blinked at him, not breaking the smile on your face.

"I said, thank you for being in my life. You're the best thing to come out of this job, I finally found someone that makes police work something to get out of bed for. I'm happy I can come in and see you in your office. What makes me even happier is knowing that I'll always be by your side."

He stutters a bit, blinking rapidly, becoming too self aware of his heart beating out of his chest.

"T-true that."

You give him a disgusted look then, bringing the shot to your lips and tilting your head back. A small yelp escapes your lips after you gulp down the liquid, closing your eyes as you shake from side to side.

"Don't ever say that again. You sound like my dad trying to be hip."

"Hey! Don't compare me to your dad. It's gross." He rolls his eyes as he copies you, feeling lightheaded as he slams the cup on the table.

There was an awkward silence for a couple of minutes before he mustered up the confidence to speak again.

"I'm happy too."

You look at him, your eyelids drooping down as you smack your lips together drunkley.

"Huh?"

He bites his tongue, almost doesn't want to finish what he wanted to say. But with the alcohol in his system, he shakes away the alarms ringing in his head and lets the truth flow from his dry lips.

"I mean... I'm happy you're in my life. You're quite possibly the best person I've met. I think you're great, you- you're amazing. I want to be the person you can talk to about anything, I want to be there for you when you feel like everyone is against you. I can be that guy that you can call in the middle of the night when you had a fucking nightmare, I- I don't know. You're different."

Your eyes widen at that, your expression that was onced filled with happiness was replaced with one of curiosity. The way you stared at him made him feel like a creep, and even though you wouldn't be able to notice it through his already red face, a blush sneakily creeped in. He waved his hands off, shaking his head as he laughed it off.

"Nevermind. I'm drunk. You should probably get home."

He grabbed his black jacket that was draped around the chair he sat on, reaching for your hand to usher you out with him. You take it gently, and Junmyeon doesn't miss how you had continued to stare at him, not even when you both stepped into the street and began to walk into the night.

He brings the both of you to a halt when you reach your car. You rubbed your hands over your arms, obviously cold from the chilly night. He raises his eyebrow at you, pursing his lips.

"Are you cold?"

You shake your head as you stumble in place, laughing.

"I'll be fine. I've got thick skin."

He shakes his head as well, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. You look at him as he adjusts it over your small frame, and he smiles as he takes a step back to get a good look at you. He lets out a snort, his teeth fully broadcasted to you. You squirm as you fit your arms into the sleeves, looking down as they fully sink in. Junmyeon laughs at the sight, the way your hands aren't even visible once the garment settles on your body.

"I knew you were small but not that small."

You stick out your tongue, flinging the extra fabric towards him, giggling as he dodges it.

"Well, I guess I should get going."

Junmyeon frowns.

"You're not driving."

Your eyebrows hitch up.

"How am I getting home then?"

He brings his finger up as he reaches in his pocket, bringing out his phone. He brings up the familiar number to a cab service he could almost memorize at this point; too used to calling them when he got too drunk himself.

With a quick explanation to where they were at, he slips it back into his slack's pocket. He then fishes out his wallet while you stare at him, still flinging the ends of the sleeves from side to side. He takes out a couple of bills, then walked towards you and stretched his hand out. You looked down at it, then back up at him.

"I could just call Kyungsoo to pick me up. I'd feel bad about taking your money."

You barely whisper out.

He shakes his head, his eyes resting on your lips for a mere second.

"Don't do that. I can take care of you."

He didn't mean for that to come out so sensually, it just felt normal in this moment to speak to you like that. Maybe it was because he was drunk, the way he simply didn't care. You didn't say a word as you took the money from his palm, and maybe Junmyeon imagined it, but your fingers stayed a second longer on his.

You took a step forward, looking up at him. Your features softened, a gentle smile delivered straight to his heart.

"Thank you, Myeonnie."

He could feel the warmth radiating off your body, the way the both of you were so close to one another. So he offers his own smile, nodding his head. He coughs to break the tension he was feeling, and your smile falters then. He turns around, dipping his head to look in both directions of the street. He waits until he spots a pair of headlights tumbling down the narrow road, and he waves his hand in the air.

He watches as you walk next to the vehicle, your hand reaching the handle. You suddenly pause, and Junmyeon looks at your stilled body in confusion. Before he could register anything else, he feels your arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into your embrace. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, just keeps them at bay on either side of his torso. The man in the cab looks at him questiongly, then flashes him a toothy grin. He mimics hugging someone, then points at him to do the same.

"When someone hugs you... you hug 'em back." You slurred against his chest.

Your words vibrated against his skin, and he's worried that you would feel just how fast his heart was pumping. So he rashfully swings his arms around you as well, pulling you in tighter. He rests his head on top of yours, bringing his right hand to comb your hair. His nose catches the scent of lavender, and he closes his eyes, taking it in. He wasn't weird, not at all. Employees can hug. They could definitely enjoy the smell of their shampoo too; especially since it was probably a great brand. Yeah, that was it. He just was entranced by whatever product you used... not you. Couldn't be.

You pulled back from him, your arms disappearing from his waist. He almost wanted to pull you back in, but he knew anything more than that could be worse for him. So he doesn't say anything else when you finally get inside the car. He waves you off, watching your face brighten as you wave excidelty back. He shoves his hands in his pockets, the red tail lights staining his face, morphing the evidence of the reddish hue of a blush.

"I can't wait to see you tomorrow." He breathes out heavily into the night.

He replays you saying the nickname you gave him repeatedly in his head, smiling to himself as he sinks into his car. He remembers thumping his fingers tirelessly against the wheel, his head resting against the carseat. He fell asleep in his vehicle that night. It was the best sleep he had ever gotten in his entire life.

And he had a great fucking mattress at home.

But for some reason the stiff and uncomfortable leather wasn't that bad. He wouldn't mind a bad back if it meant that he was able to see you. Junmyeon-

"Junmyeon?"

He snaps back into reality, his eyes focusing on what was once a bright blue sky, now overcast with gray clouds, leaving the city to be shadowed by the rainy weather. He turns around, making sure to keep his composure; not letting his wandering thoughts display on his face. It was Jisoo, Y/N's assistant. She bowed, flattening down her navy blue skirt.

"Your phone has been going off, sir. Y/N left me a message to let you know she was trying to get in touch with you."

He nodded, then waved her off. She closes the door behind her, and Junmyeon rushes over to his desk, hurriedly picking up his phone. He opens up his text message inbox and clicks over your contact.

hey, sehun let me know he's coming. did you know that?

he also said we'd be meeting sooner than we planned. 2:30?

see you soon, :)

He sighs, letting his fingers roam through his hair. He brings his watch up again, 2:00.

"Fuck you, Sehun."

Junmyeon let everyone know that he'd most likely be back later, and to his approval, no one fought him on it. As he drove to the cafe, he thought about how you would have angrily combated him, probably stomping your feet as you whined about him being behind on his work. He missed having you in the office; and that was the main reason he asked you to meet him today. Sure, the station was well run on his watch, but he needed the stability for himself back. Which mainly came from you; keeping him on his toes and breathing down his back 24/7.

He wouldn't lie to himself. He was nervous texting you. The two of you hadn't spoken that much, especially when he had issued for you to go on an extended leave. Sure, he had seen you at the crime scene and chatted, but there was an obvious piece of shit glued right by your side. It didn't feel the same.

You didn't feel the same.

He parked his car, running over his appearance in the rearview mirror. He looked beat, but that was mostly because he hadn't been sleeping well. He hated to admit it, but most of his nights consisted of thinking about Baekhyun. The chilling looks he gave him... the way he spoke to him like he was beneath him. Obviously, it didn't faze him in the slightest, he was used to seeing deadbeat criminals on an everyday basis. Not that he was a criminal, but, the aura he radiated was one of them, most precisely. The man was off.

He wasn't like anyone he met before.

But there was something that Junmyeon recognized.

He could recognize it so well. It was like reading a book, the way Baekhyun was able to cover his emotions so delicately, so routinely. He did it himself. The mask of mystery was something he prided himself in, especially when it came to his own feelings towards you. He was able to contain his anger, fester it inside of him and let it diminish whenever he commanded it to. Except when it came to Baekhyun.

"Get him out of your head." He sternly told himself.

He was there to see you. Not Baekhyun.

There wasn't any reason for him to think about your... boyfriend. Which- that was still getting some used to on Junmyeon's part. He didn't understand it, and couldn't accept it. The whole arrangement seemed too forced, even seemed too perfect. Two people who had the unfortunate burden of their significant others passing away. What a tragic way to tell people how you met.

He stepped out of his car, locking it behind him as he ventured towards the cafe he had recommended. He pulled the collar of his jacket out, the same jacket that he adorned on you the night you both had gotten drinks. Junmyeon turned the corner, his Hermès black loafers clacking against the pavement. His sight lands on the back of his friend; Sehun.

He stood outside the cafe, looking down at his phone. Junmyeon covers both sides of his mouth with his hands, yelling out his name. The younger man perks his head up, looking in the direction of his name being called. He immediately lets his shoulders drop, Junmyeon taking into account that his stress levels must be high. Once he's at arm's length, he pulls him into a tight hug. Sehun grabs onto him tightly, and Junmyeon has to question again just what this could be about.

They pull apart, and he notices that his friend's eyes are puffy.

"Are you okay? You look like you've been crying."

Sehun looks away, patting his eyes with his hands. His chuckle sounds strained,

"Yeah, yeah. Don't need to point it out."

Junmyeon puts his hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles into it. He feels tense.

"It's okay. I'm here. We can talk about whatever you need to get off your chest, okay?"

Sehun looks at him, his eyes showing desperation.

"Once Y/N gets here. That's when I'll feel okay."

This raises flags in Junmyeon's head.

"Is she okay? What the fuck do you mean by that?"

Sehun seems struck with confusion, then he widens his eyes and shakes his head.

"N-No! I didn't mean anything was wrong with her. She's fine. She's alive."

"Why the hell would she not be?" He spits back.

The raven haired boy starts to speak, but a plop of rain suddenly drifts down from the sky, hitting him on the forehead. He looks up, and just like he flipped a switch, a downpour of rain spills down on them. They both start to cover their heads with their hands, and Junmyeon has to push their wet bodies inside the shop. He lets a breath of relief out as the small cafe warms up his bones. He eyes Sehun carefully, following behind him as he picks out a table in the back corner. They take a seat, being immediately approached by a waiter.

"I'll take an Americano," Junmyeon smiles at the young teen before he brings his attention to Sehun, "He'll take a black coffee-"

"N-no. Do you have anything sweet? Like uh... do you have boba?"

The waitress laughs nervously.

"We're a coffee shop. I can get you a Mocha. They're pretty sweet to begin with-"

Sehun nods, bringing his hand up to wave her off.

"Yeah. That. Whatever."

She gives him a disappointed frown as she walks off. Junmyeon scrunches his eyebrows together and extends his hands out in an 'What the fuck was that?' manner.

Sehun looks frantic, his words coming out so fast that Junmyeon has to ask him to slow down.

"Listen- I'm just really freaked right now, okay? I really have to be honest with how I'm feeling about some things and you're the person I know will fix them."

"Well that really puts more on my plate. I really want to know what you're talking about though. How about you stop running around in circles and just spit it out?"

The other takes a deep breath, but before he could let loose what was bothering him, his eyes face towards the cafe entrance. Junmyeon continues to stare at him, his mouth left open with his question still dangling in the air. Sehun starts to fumble on his words, his fingers tapping anxiously on the table, and that was when Junmyeon took it as his sign to turn around. But before he could, Sehun grabbed his hand and yanked him back.

"Don't. Look." He says dangerously low.

"Junmyeon!"

He smiles suddenly without thinking, your voice immediately calming his anxious thoughts. He watches as Sehun's face pales, and his hold on his hand is let go. Junmyeon finally turns around to wave at you, a smile smeared on his face- but the sudden excitement to see you is shadowed by the person with his hand around your waist.

"Jun! Good to see you again!"

Baekhyun smiles devilishly at Junmyeon as he stops the both of them in front of the table. He wore a black baggy long sleeved shirt, joined with light washed denim pants. A gold chain dangled from his neck, bright against his pale collarbones. He pushed his Ray Bans out of his eyes, pushing back his shabby dyed white hair. He looks at Sehun, cocking his head to the side and feigning fake astonishment as he points at the troubled man.

"Sehun! It's been so long since I've seen you. Y/N here said you wanted to talk about something important. And, well, since I'm her boyfriend and such a close friend with you- I knew that I had to come with. Do you mind if you sit next to Junmyeon? I just like to be next to her."

Baekhyun's eyes seemingly pierce through Sehun's shocked demeanor, his jaw left unhinged as the question lingers amongst them. When nothing is said, Junmyeon watches as Baekhyun tilts his head up quickly and uses his eyes to look at the empty seat next to himself. It was almost comical watching Sehun rush out of his chair and accompany Junmyeon on his side of the table.

You... well you looked like yourself. From what Sehun had framed earlier, Junmyeon was thinking the absolute worst. Maybe you got into an accident, or you tripped and broke a bone. But here you were; bare faced, flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes. You looked fine.

He watches as Baekhyun pulls out the seat for you, kissing your head as you smile back at him. He adjusts himself on the chair, bringing his hands onto the table rather loudly, the impact of his interlaced fingers thudding against it. He looks between Sehun and himself before he squints and lets a chuckle out.

"I think I know what this is about." He says matter-of-factly.

You don't say a word, Junmyeon notes. You instead look down at your lap, your lips still formed into a smile. In return for Baekhyun announcing his educated guess, Junmyeon leans in his chair and tilts back so the two back pegs are only on the floor. He brings a finger to his mouth and speaks diligently.

"I was only aware that Y/N would be coming. She never mentioned you coming, Baekhyun."

He watches as Baekhyun's expression doesn't falter, simply adjusts to the tone that Junmyeon laced with venom. He shifts his body to face him, using his right arm to drape around your shoulders, squeezing it. You're wearing a shirt that was unfamiliar to him, it was too baggy on your frame. He guessed it belonged to the unnerving cunt that sat across from him.

"Well like I stated before, Jun. I'm close friends with Oh Sehun. Right?" Baekhyun looks at Sehun, and the boy nods, not looking back at him. Junmyeon studies his body language; it was like he was a cornered animal, unable to escape. And Baekhyun was the hungry predator ready to pounce on him.

Junmyeon nods at this.

"Okay. So what are we here to talk about Sehun?" He places his hand on Sehun's shoulder, taken back when the other jumps a little.

"I- I. I actually forgot."

You reach forward across the table, your palm open in front of Sehun.

"Sehun, you could tell us anything. I'm here for you. You know that."

Sehun hesitatingly brings his own hand on the table, his fingers inches from yours, but he suddenly pulls back, closing it into a fist.

"I know, Y/N." He says weakly.

You look at Junmyeon pleadingly, so he rests his chair back normally on the ground. He starts to pat Sehun's back, then rubs it gently.

"She's right. You could tell us what's on your mind. You did say it was important."

He looks up, only to stare directly at Baekhyun. The two of them don't exchange any words- but Junmyeon takes into account how your boyfriend licks his lips and starts to smile.

What the fuck is happening? And why can't Sehun talk about what is obviously bothering him?

"I think you're nervous to talk about this in front of someone who wasn't invited," Junmyeon states blankly, and you give him a sad look before he continues, "But regardless. He's here, and he said that you're close as well. You agreed to it. Are you lying?"

Sehun shakes his head quickly. Junmyeon knows he's lying. But he doesn't show the discernment that he's feeling inside, and can't give Baekhyun any satisfaction that he's slipping up in his own emotions. They already had one of them crumbling right in front of their eyes. Before Sehun could say anything else, Baekhyun takes the lead.

"I know what it is."

You look at him confused.

"You do, Baek?"

Junmyeon sneers at that. But as much as that bothered him, his interest was settled on what Baekhyun would say next. He watched as Baekhyun nodded very surely, tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the song that was playing in the cafe.

"Sehun has been having suicidal thoughts. I would know. He called me and told me about it."

And for once, Junmyeon was stunned. He was not expecting Baekhyun to say that, but even moreso, it seemed like Sehun didn't either. He gapes, spreading his hands out on the table, looking in a flurry between the three people seated with him at the table. The police officer watches as a bead of sweat travels down the side of his forehead, his lips beginning to tremble.

Baekhyun clears his throat, then leaned back into his chair, his arms folding behind his neck.

"Yeah. He told me he was contemplating suicide. He was too nervous to talk about it since he's never had those emotions before, but I get it. It's not easy to talk about wanting to slice your wrists when so many people have died recently," He eyes the paper menu on the right side of him, picking it up gingerly,

"But I insisted that he talk about it. Therapists are too expensive these days. I let him know that I'm his friend. He could trust me, you know? But he wanted to see you guys today so... I guess he built up enough confidence to say the truth. Right, Sehun? The truth?"

No one says anything. They stay silent until the waitress delivers the men's drinks, then quickly draws down your order and Baekhyun's. Junmyeon studies him, how he smiled at the young girl; how he was able to say such obscene things and happily order his coffee like normal. He couldn't understand him, couldn't dissect him at all. He was stronger than he looked but Junmyeon knew that he could crack him.

It wasn't like he didn't believe what he said, but if Sehun was feeling like that, truly, he knew that he could talk to his friend in private. This wasn't something that the younger would do, not at all. There had to be something else that was itching his brain, but he was obviously too scared to speak about it in front of Baekhyun.

He picks up his Americano, taking a small sip.

"How do you know Sehun, Baekhyun?"

You speak this time, which surprised Junmyeon.

"Baekhyun told me that they go way back. They used to do business together."

Junmyeon looks at Sehun, forming a tight knit line.

"Is that so?"

"We might have hung out a couple times." He mumbles out before he drinks his mocha.

He returned his sight to Baekhyun, who shrugged as his smile got wider.

"What can I say? I'm a people person. Everyone likes me."

"Even Chanyeol?"

Baekhyun's eyes dim. He leans into the table, the smile vanishing,

"Even Chanyeol, yes."

Junmyeon starts to smile this time.

"You know it's funny. Chanyeol just got into a fight a couple weeks back. Did you know about that? Looks pretty awful if I say so myself."

You look at your boyfriend in a dazed state, obviously not following the tension that was brewing.

"You didn't say anything about that. But Jun," You purse your lips together, "What does that have to do with anything? We're here for Sehun."

He looks off to the interior decorating the cafe, little potted plants hanging from the ceiling, strings of lights glowing brightly against the tan walls.

"Just making small talk. You don't have to get defensive, Y/N."

You push your tongue into the side of your cheek, looking back down at your lap.

"I'm not getting defensive. I'm just saying if Sehun is feeling... suicidal, we should be conversating about that. Not about how the Deputy got into a fucking fight."

"Well it's pretty fucking obvious that Sehun doesn't want to talk about it. Come on, Y/N. You know how to detect body language just as well as I do. It's because of him."

He jabs his finger toward Baekhyun. The accused man flutters his eyelashes bashfully, resting his chin on both of his hands.

"Me? What did I do?" He says tauntingly.

Junmyeon flared his nostrils, the familiar heat rising in his chest like the night he flung your underwear around his face. He wanted to slam him against the wall, yell in his face and realize that he was no match against Junmyeon's strength. He settles on slamming his fists on the table, spilling his drink, the hot liquid traveling on his skin. It burned, but it didn't compare to the fire that was ignited inside him now.

"You know exactly what I'm getting at here, Byun. You scare Sehun fucking shitless, and for whatever reason he can't even maintain eye contact with you. You're nothing but a weak joke. You cascade this macho persona, but I see right through it. You're nothing but an empty shell that draws on masks and puts it on to fit every single situation. I don't fucking like you."

He lets out an aggravated tsk as he finishes, looking down at the table. He knew he showed too much to Baekhyun, gave him too much information just by playing into his game. He knew now that he was easily triggered by his obliviousness. He wanted to slap himself in the face.

"Junmyeon. Can I talk to you outside?"

He looks up to meet your distressed state, and he nods in a flash, standing up and following you outside the cafe. Before you got up, you whispered something in Baekhyun's ear that made his facial features twitch. His eyelids drooped downwards, but he regained his once upbeat personality and laid a kiss on your cheek. He could feel Baekhyun's stare burning holes in the back of his head, but at this moment, Junmyeon didn't care.

He listened to the small chime of the bell go off as the door closed behind them, then turned to face you. The rain beat down on your head, your once dry hair dampened by the merciless weather. He has to break the silence, you hadn't spoken a single word and continued your stare directly into his soul.

"What? What do you want from me?" He spats out.

Your bottom lip juts out, your eyes furiously blinking away the rain.

"Why are you acting like this?"

He stands still, letting the rain blur his vision of you. He forms his hands into fists.

"Like what? Like a normal human being? I don't know you anymore, Y/N. You've changed."

You scoff at that, shifting your weight on your right leg. You bring up your hand and shake it angrily. "Me? I'm the same as I've ever been. You're the one who changed," You cross your arms over your chest, "You don't talk to me anymore. You stopped reaching out, you- you fucking made me leave work! You left me alone after Kyungsoo died, and you expect me to be my bubbly happy go-lucky self? Fuck you."

You shove him, and when he doesn't move from the impact of your soft blow, you strike him again on the chest. He doesn't change his position, just looks down at you while you pound your fists against his body, watching as you begin to cry. It broke his heart. Seeing you like this. The worst part for Junmyeon was knowing that he couldn't be the one to fix this for you, there would never be the same connection between the both of you unless Baekhyun was out of the equation.

The most sickening thought to Junmyeon was knowing that you would never leave Baekhyun.

Not for Sehun.

Not for Kyungsoo.

Not even him.

He sighs as he stops your actions in a heartbeat, grabbing your arms mid air. You hiccup as you look back up at him, your eyes filled with tears. Your eyes that stole his heart were nothing but a black hole now, and even if Junmyeon wanted to pull you back out, you wouldn't have accepted his hand. He fights his own sob trying to erupt from his throat, putting on a smile for you. You shake your head, your pink lips forming to say something. But you didn't.

"Are you cold?" He mutters out brokenly.

You scrunch your face up, your cheeks, a beautiful shade of pink. Your eyes shut closer together as you bite your lip to contain your whines, and shake your head.

"I... I've got thick skin."

He licks his lips, looking at the stained ground. He releases his grip on you, letting his arms fall back to his sides. "You should head back inside."

You shake your head more violently now, punching his arms.

"You're supposed to give me your jacket, you fucking prick."

It sounded desperate. Like you were hoping that the connection you had could somehow be fused back together with something as pathetic as a jacket. You continue to hit him, speaking in choked sobs, repeating for him to give you his jacket. But he doesn't listen anymore. He just stares at you, watching how devastatingly broken you were.

"That's enough, Y/N."

"No. You need me just as much as I need you." You snap back.

He shakes his head at you. He grabs the handle of the cafe door, turning his back on you.

"I don't need you at all. Don't bother coming back to work."

You start to scream a string of obscenities at him, but he silences the hurtful spikes you were throwing at him. He let the door close behind him, watching as some of the people inside gave him incredulous looks, the waitress peering outside while covering her mouth. He fashioned the cuffs of his jacket so they didn't look so disheveled, then cleared his throat as he approached the table in the corner.

Baekhyun doesn't say a word, but Junmyeon knows that he's holding back some type of resentment. The man's face distorted into pure anger, his hold on the coffee mug making his knuckles a bright red. Sehun huddled into his seat, not daring to look up at Junmyeon. He sighs at that, lazily looking between the two. He clicks his tongue, bringing his now cold drink up to his lips, gulping it down completely.

Once he finished, he placed it back gently on the table. He pulled out his wallet and pulled a few stray bills, confidently placing it on the table.

"I think that should cover everyone here. Sehun, are you coming?"

Baekhyun stands up, inching towards Junmyeon and stopping until he was only inches away from his face. His head bobs lightly, his tongue tracing his lips before he spoke.

"Sehun and I are going to spend some time together. Is that alright with you?"

Junmyeon is tired at this point. He's had enough of Baekhyun. Of you. So he chuckles darkly, making Baekhyun look at him with a quizzical expression.

"Do whatever the fuck you want. You might want to give Y/N a ride back to her house though. She's completely drenched. You should warm him up, make sure she doesn't catch a cold."

He turns his feet in the direction he came from, but Baekhyun's hand grabs his shoulder.

Junmyeon doesn't bother looking back, just stands in place as he looks out the window.

"I'll fuck her good for you."

And that was enough for him. He had it.

Junmyeon laughed, closing his eyes as he turned around slowly. He ducks his head down, bringing it up slightly so Baekhyun would only see his eyes. He smirked at him, opening his mouth to probably spit out some other lewd details, but Junmyeon doesn't give him the chance. He brings his fist to connect with Baekhyun's jaw, watching as the smaller man topples back on the table, his hands gripping onto the edges of it. Screams begin to echo in the once quiet shop, and Junmyeon can hear people scrambling out of the chairs, the squeaks of shoes running right out the door.

The waitress does nothing but look onto the fight unfold behind the counter, her phone shaking in her grasp as she tries to unlock it. Baekhyun spits on the floor, blood painting the washed out gray flooring. He looks back up, and Junmyeon hesitates as he watches Baekhyun's eyes turn into something almost demonic, his white teeth stained with the ruby color, smiling right at him. It almost felt like he wanted this to happen; but Junmyeon doesn't want to miss the opportunity to beat him to a pulp.

Baekhyun lands a pretty good punch to his chin, making Junmyeon twist his neck to the left. He shakes it off quickly, running back at him and grabbing him by his shirt, pushing him against the wall. He doesn't stop his fist from hitting his face, not giving him any mercy, just enjoying seeing the blood erupt from his mouth. It wasn't until Sehun pulled him off that he let him go. Baekhyun slides down the wall, his hands weakly spread on the floor, the smile on his face never leaving.

He wheezes, and Junmyeon just stares as Sehun restrains his arms behind his back, telling him, "It's okay, It's okay." He's in a delirious state now, looking down at his own shirt, the vermillion stains looking right back up at him. He watches as you somehow rush to Baekhyun's aid, looking at him and screaming. But it's all just static in his head. He pushes Sehun off of him, grunting as he winds his shoulder back. He stumbles as he walks away from the gore fest he created, cracking his knuckles.

"Sir! You cannot leave this premise, I already called the cops!"

The waitress was crying, her phone raised to her ear as she pointed at him. Junmyeon snickers, looking at her frazzled state. He continues to walk towards the door, stopping as he looks back at her, offering her a genuine side smile.

"I am the police. Go get him some napkins. He'll be fine."

He opens the door, looking up at the sky, watching the rain pour down. He smacks his lips together, then without a thought in his head, he takes off his jacket. He looks back inside, Sehun looking back at him with shock, and tosses it on one of the tables.

"Give it to Baekhyun. He needs it more than me."

Baekhyun's POV

"Get in the fucking car, Sehun."

Baekhyun didn't know what was exactly going to transpire today, but it sure as fuck wasn't this. He sits himself in his car, immediately looking at his face in the mirror. His nose was bleeding, one of his eyes was turning completely red- to which Baekhyun scoffed.

He looked down at his hand, the faint color of crimson staining it. Usually this would be fine, but in this scenario he was disgusted. There should never be a moment where he, Baekhyun, would be the one spitting up blood. He listens to the back passanger's door close harshly, and he looks at a spooked Sehun staring back at him. He's stark white, his legs crossed over one another, his body visibly shaking.

He licks his lips as he looks away, gripping the steering wheel.

"Did you know he was going to do that?" He says sourly.

Sehun shook his head, looking outside the window.

"No. I've never seen him like that before."

Baekhyun punches the wheel then, making Sehun audibly gasp. He turned around in a flash, teeth gritting together, aiming his next words towards the young boy.

"I'm going to take Y/N home, and if you-" He jabs his finger in the other's chest, "say a single thing? I'll make sure you regret it. You got me?"

He nods, tears brimming his eyes already. Baekhyun chuckles at that, pulling his hand away from him and sitting back in his seat completely. He clears his throat, blood still spewing from his lips. He grimaces, looking outside his own window this time, watching you walk up to his side with more napkins.

You tap the window, and Baekhyun nimbly pushes down the button to roll it down. You quickly shove the napkins towards his nose, you're forcing out too many words at once, making you stutter uncontrollably.

"I- I did- I can't believe he did that. Are you o-okay?" You take sharp breaths in between each word, like it hurt to inhale.

Baekhyun's heart swells at that, and he rests his hand over yours, stopping your frantic movements. He shakes his head and closes his eyes, trying to remain calm for you. He listens to your ragged breathing, then rests his gaze on yours. He smiles.

"I'll be fine. Let me take you home-"

"No. I- I have to talk to him."

And why did you want to talk to him? Baekhyun wondered. He was only one short circuit away from blowing up, but he reminds himself that it's you, that's he talking to. He couldn't have you thinking he was the controlling boyfriend that he knows he is. Baekhyun would be the composed, innocent man in this situation. And God, it really fucking sucked being good.

"If that's what you think you should do. Go for it." He narrows his eyes, watching as you didn't expect that response. You nod hestitangly, unsure of what to do with the remaining napkins in your hand. He shakes his head softly, taking them from you.

"Make sure you text me when you get home then. I'll come over." He says in a whisper.

You give him a sympathetic smile, "Of course."

You give him a kiss on his cheek, to which Baekhyun makes sure to record in his memories to fond over later. You turn around, but Baekhyun reaches out his window and latches his grasp on your wrist. You look back confused, but he doesn't even need to say it to you now; something that he pleasantly enjoyed.

"I- I love you."

He tilts his head cheekily to the side, letting you go.

"I love you too."

He watched until you were only a speck in his vision, and then he grudgingly turned back around again, latching his fangs into Sehun.

"Get in the front with me."

Sehun shook his head.

"I'm okay back here-"

"Get up here." Baekhyun deadpans.

So there they were, driving in Baekhyun's car, driving aimlessly. He hasn't said anything to the other, just kept quiet as he tapped his finger on the wheel, watching his windshield wipers dispose of the rain on the car. Sehun cleared his throat when they arrived at a red light, and Baekhyun flickered his eyes on him for a second, then continued to stare forward at the road.

"What?" He says in a sardonic tone.

"Where are we going? I actually have some work I have to go over-"

"Really? What is it about?" Baekhyun smirks, hitting the gas pedal.

Sehun fiddles with his hands, "Just some um, you know. Burglary case."

Baekhyun nods, his voice ringing in the silent car.

"Man, I hate people like that. They could be so annoying, huh?"

Sehun forces out a bitter laugh.

"Y-yeah. They're... annoying."

"Tell me Sehun. Because I'm really, really, into what you do for a living. How do you live with yourself when you know you have blood on your hands? Do you think you're better than me?"

Silence.

He turns a street, slowing down his speed in the empty neighborhood. He waits for him to say something, but just like he knew, Sehun didn't dare say a single syllable. He looks at the dim lit houses and apartments as he continues his drive, pointing at some and complimenting the exterior. He stops in front of one, moving his hand towards the Park shift. He faces Sehun now, observing how he stayed completely still, his shoulders hunched over, his face looking completely in his lap. Baekhyun snaps his fingers, making the other jump in his seat.

"You see that house?"

Sehun diverted his attention outside the window. It was an ugly house; seemingly abandoned from the looks of it. It was almost as if it was being held by strings, the paint chipping off the wood, the lawn a complete jungle. The roof was beaten in, some had already caved in, submitting itself over to the undeniable death. He looked back at Baekhyun, his eyebrow raised.

"What about it?"

Baekhyun winced, his eye throbbing in pain. He fixates on Sehun through his migraine.

"It's beautiful."

"Beautiful? I don't see how-"

He slaps his face then, immediately grabbing his cheek to look back at him.

"Isn't it beautiful seeing things struggle to stay alive? No matter how broken they are. They still manage to live. And do you know why us, as people, no matter how battered and bruised we get, we still get up?"

Sehun shook his head in Baekhyun's hand. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, digging his fingernails into his skin. "Because they think they have purpose. And where does purpose come from? It comes from the undeniable feeling that something or someone created you- that some being put you in existence because they believed you had something to grace this fucked up reality."

He lets go of Sehun's face, shoving him against the window. He unbuckles his seatbelt, crawling towards his body and pushing his head on the window. He savors seeing Sehun's breath clouding on the clear glass, his breathing short with each one he took. He locks his fingers in his hair, twisting and pulling it, slamming his face into the glass harder.

"But do you want to know the one thing that people don't know?"

He snickers to himself as he grins.

"I am the person who decides people's purposes. Me."

Sehun pushes him off, saliva dripping down his mouth, his eyes in a crazed state. Baekhyun raises his hands in the air as if he'd been caught, then relaxes as he leans against his seat.

"So, Sehun. Can you answer my question?"

Sehun grips the leather seat, tears staining his cheeks.

"What question?" He lashes out.

"Do you think you're better than me?"

"I- I don't know. Why does this matter, why me?" He spews angrily.

Baekhyun sighs, lazily draping his seatbelt on himself. He resumes his quaint car drive, not answering Sehun's question. He wracked his mind about this for a while; people who knew they were going to die not cooperating with their killer. It never made sense, Baekhyun enjoyed the manipulative mind games he would play with people, much like a kid playing with their food. Deciding which portion of their meal would enter their mouths... which portion would end up unscathed. If you were in the palm of a sadistic killer, would you rather play with him or fight him?

The choice was fairly obvious.

But obviously not.

The gloomy skies turned a shade of purple and black, the moon resurfacing from its slumber. Baekhyun didn't say anything as he parked in front of the apartment building he frequented often. He pushed back the pain that screamed at him, lifting his hand to grab his car keys. Sehun stayed put, glancing up towards the building. When he didn't react, Baekhyun waved his key in the air questiongly at him.

"You're not excited to be here?"

"Why would I be?"

"Because now you won't be alone with me."

Sehun uttered underneath his breath, "I'm not talking to him anymore."

Baekhyun jutted his bottom lip out, masking a look of concern.

"Not best friends with your best friend anymore? Wonder why."

"Like you fucking care."

Baekhyun shook his head, reaching over to the glove box. He opened it up, pulling the sharp object out. He grazed his indent finger over the gray blade, watching how prettily it shined in the darkness. Sehun held his breath, watching Baekhyun admire his toy. Baekhyun smiled brightly, his cheeks warming up.

"I'm offended by that. I care about my friends. And you're my friend."

Something in the air changed when Baekhyun stated that; and he took into account how Sehun's once scared shitless exterior softened. Obviously something happened between him and Chanyeol, it wasn't like he necessarily cared about what it was about, but if it could make this more entertaining for him, he'll use it.

"Get out. If you make a run for it, I'll kill you."

Baekhyun stood behind Sehun as he entered the apartment building, knife embedded in his lower back. An awkward ride in the elevator was fun for Baekhyun, enjoying how Sehun squirmed in discomfort. He felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket, and without his eyes leaving Sehun's back, he pulled it out. He squinted from the bright light coming from his phone, but that soon was replaced with a heartwarming grin.

i made it home. let me know when you're coming over. i'll order take out. :) love you.

He shoved it back into his pocket as the elevator notified them they arrived. He couldn't wait to come back home to you, being able to be overwhelmed with your scent, your body, your touch. He almost stumbled in his step while thinking about it, but he covered it up by pushing Sehun ahead of him, towards Chanyeol's door.

He brushed some hair out of his eyes, gazing at Sehun's closed fist knocking on the door of his life-long friend. He felt his heart race faster as Chanyeol opened the door in shock, wearing only a robe, his hair in complete disarray. Baekhyun brought his free hand up, waving cutely in his direction.

"We haven't had a guy's night in a while."

Chanyeol had let them in, stubbornly, but still- let them in. Which was his biggest mistake in his life so far. Baekhyun had grabbed Sehun by his collar and led him towards the couch. He threw him down roughly, flipping the knife in his hand in the air before jokingly pretending to stab him.

"Quit it, Baek." Chanyeol shouted at him, taking his place on a chair beside the glass table.

Baekhyun giggled to himself, flashing the knife at Chanyeol. He grunted as he pushed the tip of the blade away, giving a snarling look. Crossing his arms, Chanyeol pierced his gaze at Sehun, the younger childishly looking away. He snorted at that, then watched as Baekhyun sat in his own chair.

Chanyeol quipped, "What the fuck happened to you? You almost look as bad as me."

"Your friend. Junmyeon." Baekhyun grunted out.

Chanyeol widens his eyes. Then erupts in boisterous laughter, hand clapping included. The two men aren't amused by it in the slightest, and after a couple more seconds of his annoying noise, he dwindles down, fully taking in the tension filled air. He licks his lips and brings his attention back to Baekhyun, but more importantly the blade that was adorned in his grip.

"What's the knife for, huh?" Chanyeol barks at him. He was nervous, Baekhyun could tell.

So he shimmies into his seat, ready to watch the show unfold in front of his very eyes; perfectly orchestrated by him. "I thought we'd play a game."

Sehun sits up in his seat, broadcasting for the first time a sense of confidence.

"A game?"

Baekhyun nods sweetly.

"A game. Rules are that you have to play. If you don't- well you know." He says in a singsong voice.

He watches Chanyeol stretch out his arms, sighing. He flashes a grim look towards Sehun.

"Thought you didn't want to see me anymore. Why'd you come?"

"Yeah, like I volunteered to be held at knife point by Baekhyun. I didn't want to come here."

Baekhyun stifles back laughter, crossing his legs together as he listens to the argument stirring up. He looked down at his knife; the same knife he used on Mina. If he squinted hard enough, he could still see the faint blood on the pristine gift Chanyeol gave him.

"Well I don't know, this could be an ambush for all I know. You and your stupid fucking choices that you make. You never learn, do you?" Chanyeol's veins popped out of his neck as he spoke to Sehun.

Sehun rolled his eyes, looking at Baekhyun.

"What do we have to do?"

"What, so you're ignoring me now? Prick." Chanyeol spits.

Baekhyun stands, interjecting as he raises his hands in the air.

"Now now. Let's not get too excited to play the game. Let me explain the rules, okay guys?"

They don't say anything so Baekhyun takes it that they're interested. He loved his friends.

"So, the whole premise is kind of silly," He chuckles as he walks over to the couch, wrapping his arm around Sehun's shoulders, "Basically, the two of you spill your guts about every horrible thing you've done for me. The one who takes responsibility wins. Pretty easy, right?"

Sehun puckers his lips and begins to open his mouth, but Baekhyun shushes him, grazing the knife on his cheek. "I'm not finished."

"The one who's too much of a self centered cunt, dies. By who? You're wondering? Well," He stands up, dragging the knife on the glass table, making the men in the room groan from the noise, "By the one who wins. I think it's pretty fair."

Chanyeol gives him the most stomach-turning frown, his lips trembling in distraught.

"No fucking way."

Baekhyun walks behind Chanyeol's chair, his hand bringing the knife to his neck. He inches towards the other's ear, his lips grazing his skin ever so slightly.

"Aren't we friends, Channie? Best friends, right?"

His friend's hand grips the chair's arm furiously, "Us being friends doesn't have anything to do with this, Baekhyun."

"Oh, but I think it does. You know why it does, Chanyeol? Because I have something on you. And if I tell the entire world what Park Chanyeol did- well, that wouldn't end well for you, right? But I'm your friend, so I'll give you a chance to not ruin your perfect cookie cutter reputation."

He slices Chanyeol's skin lightly, looking down to see the small beads of blood sprout from his neck. He immediately hushes his deep rooted snarls, his body settling into the situation that was being unfolded. Sehun gapes, but he slowly closes his own mouth, eyebrows furrowed together as he leans out of his seat.

Baekhyun smiles. "Okay then. Who wants to be honest?"

He sits back down in his chair. Of course, he had something up his sleeve. He slipped his phone out of his pocket, cleverly hiding it from view underneath his thigh. He rummaged through his miscellaneous apps, until he finally clicked on Voice Memos. And finally, the game would actually begin.

Sehun starts it off, which was little to no surprise to Baekhyun. He was the weaker one out of all of them after all.

"I- I disposed of the body of Baekhyun's girlfriend. I didn't like doing it though. I- I still have nightmares about it."

Baekhyun gives a light hearted clap, to which Sehun glares. He looks towards Chanyeol, and Baekhyun copies. He looks tired, his arms hanging off the arms of the chair, his eyes fixated on the ground.

"Chanyeol? What about you? What have you done?" Baekhyun questions.

Chanyeol licks his lips, pulled out of the trance he put himself in.

"I... I haven't done anything."

God, was he an idiot. He knew his friend was prideful, but did he really have to be when it came to his own life? He sighs, shaking his head.

"No... I don't think that's right. Come on, spill your guts. We don't judge here!"

His cheerfulness does nothing to the bland environment. Chanyeol covers his face with both of his hands, something of a sob tumbling from his throat. Baekhyun looks at Sehun, giving him a look that reads, "Can you believe this guy?"

"I didn't do anything. I haven't." Chanyeol repeats.

Sehun stands up, anger fusing into his features.

"I should have known you wouldn't fess up to anything. You're just like your fucking dad."

Baekhyun gasps, placing his hands over his mouth. He tries to fight off the incoming laughter from his chest, but it spills over maniacally. Of course, he knew Chanyeol's trouble with his own father, I mean he issued him to kill him for Christ's sake. But compared to Baekhyun, Chanyeol's sanity when it came to his dad was utterly gone. He knew not to talk about it; only when it mattered, when it was a reminder. Obviously Sehun didn't know about this. So Baekhyun continued his fit of giggles, his eyes latching onto Chanyeol's furious state.

"You know, I let it go earlier. I mean, you didn't even give me the chance to say anything before you left, you fucking asshole. But you- you don't know anything about my fucking father. He was a living fucking nightmare, he cheated, he lied, he hit me. I am nothing, like him," Chanyeol kicks his chair back, his body moving faster than he could have been thinking, stopping as he stands in Sehun's face, "So shut the fuck up if you know what's good for you."

Sehun clenches his fists, mustering up a confident face, but failing horribly.

"I killed Kyungsoo. I am the person who fucking helped. I disposed of a body. Come on, Chanyeol. Fucking take ownership. Don't fucking die because your pride!"

With a gurgled yell, Chanyeol punches Sehun in the face, his own face bright red with anger. Sehun fights back, grabbing Chanyeol by his shoulders and shoving him into the glass table, shards gliding on the hardwood floor, pieces stopping at Baekhyun's shoes. Baekhyun's adrenaline shoots up, his already widened eyes stretching out even more, his smile so big it's beginning to hurt. He picks up a shard of glass, flipping it around in his hand as he watches Sehun plummeting his fist into Chanyeol's face.

He stands up, walking behind Sehun and seeing his friend's face go in and out of consciousness. His lip is busted, blood is sprayed on his chin and exposed chest, his eyes are in a dazed, frenzied state. Sehun freezes his movements, taking a deep breath in before he pulls Chanyeol up, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Chanyeol. Please, say something."

He spits blood on the younger's face, yet Sehun stays stoic. He whispers this time,

"Choose me. Choose to live."

Baekhyun huffs annoyed, giving Sehun's ribs a hard kick, watching him cripple up and fall on the ground. He stands over Chanyeol now, both of his feet on either side of him, crouches down and smacks his lips together.

"What did you end up doing yourself, huh, Yeol?" He brushes some of Chanyeol's dark locks off his forehead, gagging as he touches some of the blood that was painted into his skin.

Chanyeol's voice is brittle as he speaks, "P-please. Help."

The words came out weakly, each syllable too painful for him to escape from his mouth. Baekhyun ponders for a moment, then nods his head. He picks up his battered friend, sitting him up and dragging him so he leans on the chair he had kicked back moments prior. He slaps him a little, trying to keep him conscious. When he finally lets up and keeps his eyes open, Baekhyun waves the knife in his face gleefully.

"You want me to help you, right?"

Chanyeol nods slowly, his eyes crossing repeatedly, trying to focus on him. Baekhyun let's a small, "uh-huh," out, then walked towards Sehun. He repeats his action, dragging his body and stopping to drop him right in front of Chanyeol's feet. He digs his foot into Sehun's neck, putting pressure steadily, watching him struggle to push him off. Baekhyun looks at Chanyeol with a straight face, eyes dark.

"What do you want me to do, Chanyeol?"

Chanyeol, becoming more and more aware of what's happening, gurgles on his own blood, sputtering out drops of the red on Sehun's face. He shakes his hands, getting on his knees and trying to remove Baekhyun's foot from the other's throat. Baekhyun sneers at that, disappointment settling into his features. He keeps his foot on the other's throat and takes a step in Chanyeol's direction, bringing the knife to the side of his neck.

"You can't save him. But you want to know what you can do?" Baekhyun lashes out in anger.

Chanyeol shakes, looking up defeated.

"W-what?" He says brokenly.

Baekhyun removes the knife from his throat, then points his finger and motions for Chanyeol to get on top of Sehun. It takes him a moment to register what he's asking, but nonetheless, he does it. And Baekhyun feels almost a little bit of pity for him; but it's quickly erased when he hears Sehun wheeze against his shoe. He takes his foot off of him, crouching behind Chanyeol, placing his hands on his shoulders, leaning his head against the crook of his neck as he peered down at Sehun.

"What do you want to say, Sehun?" Baekhyun asks.

There's fear in his eyes, and the all knowing feeling that his last words were coming soon. He knew the look all too well, loved seeing it. But in this moment, it felt different. Rather than the impending speech of love being tarnished, a future of marriage memorized and said endless amounts of times to potential lovers, this was Sehun. Sehun, who played the game right, Sehun who didn't let pride wash over him. It made Baekhyun feel... like a God. He was the one who wrote the script, who decided to change the rules if it didn't seem fit to his liking, he was- He Is- God.

"The answer- to your question." Sehun says shakily.

Baekhyun shapes his mouth into an, "O '' shape, nodding his head and biting his lip eagerly.

"Yes? And what is that?"

Sehun looks directly at Chanyeol as he speaks,

"I'm not better than you."

Baekhyun hears Chanyeol's voice hitch, his body trembling. Sehun continues.

"You win. You'll always win, Baekhyun."

"Exactly. Now, Chanyeol," Baekhyun slithers his hand down to Chanyeol's, placing the knife in his hand, "I'm going to give you something that you've always wanted."

Chanyeol replies in a monotone voice, "Which is?"

"To kill and rid of the obstacle in your life. I won't do it for you this time. Think of it as a gift."

He looks as Chanyeol slowly but surely wraps each finger around the hilt of the knife, until it is in his grasp most surely. Baekhyun gingerly brings his hand on Chanyeol's arm, pushing it towards Sehun's chest. He lets go once the blade is inches from Sehun's own flesh, pausing to watch what his friend would do next.

Sehun sobs, "We can still do it. We can still kill him, Chanyeol."

"Is that right, Chanyeol? You can still kill me? Well look, I'm right here. Do it." Baekhyun lets the last words drip with curiosity.

Chanyeol doesn't make any movements. He stays on top of Sehun, knife remaining inches from his chest. His troubled breathing is the only sound in the apartment, only until he speaks with the utmost confidence.

"I... I can be loyal to something as small as a best friend, Sehun."

Sehun's eyes glimmered with hope then, Baekhyun almost faltering in his own confidence.

"Yes- Yes, Chanyeol! I knew you would choose me-"

And Chanyeol followed his words as he plummeted the knife into his friend.

"Chan...chanyeol?"

Sehun's mouth was left agape as he looked down shakily at the knife sticking out of his chest, Chanyeol's body hunched over Sehun's in a ghostly manner. Baekhyun let out a nervous chuckle, putting a hand over his heart, closing his eyes in relief. He doubted- for a second, that Chanyeol would be persuaded by the meaningless words Sehun spouted out. But Baekhyun knew.

"I knew you would choose me." Baekhyun says sarcastically, mimicking Sehun.

Chanyeol says nothing as he takes the knife out of Sehun, throwing it away from his sight. He picked up the limp body now, his hand moving behind Sehun's head, pushing it up, shaking it.

"Sehun? Sehun, please. I- I didn't do it. I didn't-"

A string of sobs continued after, and Baekhyun walked quietly to retrieve his weapon, cleaning off the blood with his already ruined shirt. He made his way back to Chanyeol, who was attempting to revive Sehun's dead body, chest heaving as snot shot from his nose, his tears cascading on the corpse's face. Baekhyun snaps his finger, earning a devastated and desperate look from Chanyeol.

"And where's my thank you for saving your ass?" Baekhyun crossed his arms together.

Chanyeol blinked, his face morphing into one of shock.

"Thank You? What the fuck do I have to thank you for? You killed my-"

Baekhyun stamps his foot as he yells,

"You! You killed him, Chanyeol. Not me. Maybe I should have let Sehun kill you; you still can't play the game fucking right. Piece of shit. You can't even say thank you for the gift I gave you, some fucking stability in your life, jeez. Also," He snakes out his phone from his pocket, waving it in the air, then clicking the button to end the voice memo, "I have it all recorded. I'll just keep it as a reminder for you."

Chanyeol grips Sehun's body closer to his chest. His left eye was swollen shut now, the blood dried on his face and chest. Baekhyun didn't think Chanyeol looked any better than right now. So he sticks his phone back in his back pocket, slipping the knife in the other. He walks over to the door, but Chanyeol stops him with one last pleading question.

"Baekhyun. Why... why didn't you kill me?"

Baekhyun stills. He looks over his shoulder, smiling.

"Because. You're my friend."

"Goodbye, Chanyeol."

And as he closed the door behind him, he listened to Chanyeol unleash a blood curdling scream. He relished in it, humming a tune to himself as he walked down the hallway. He brought his phone out as he entered the elevator. He typed happily, his thoughts finally only becoming about you.

on my way back. i missed you so much. i'm so happy. :)

69 notes · View notes

snackhobi · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan.

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve.

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable.

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is.

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church.

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside.

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?”

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement.

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble.

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised.

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt.

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts.

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless.

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck.

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in.

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres.

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body.

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage.

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe.

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead.

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming.

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class.

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end.

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?”

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading.

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it.

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing.

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.”

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good.

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it.

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm.

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be.

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh.

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent.

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed.

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside.

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil.

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed.

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you.

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you.

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs.

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…”

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#magicshopnet #btswritingcafe #taehyung smut #taehyung oneshot #taehyung x reader #bts #bts smut #v smut #v oneshot #v x reader #taehyung #taehyung fluff #bts oneshot #kim taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario #bts fic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist

5K notes · View notes

knightyoomyoui · 2 years ago

Text

TWICE x Reader- “Doughnut”: PART 7 (FINALE)

Happy 13K reads! Thank you so much everyone!

Btw, this is the chapter where I really did my best to explain everything what happened in the MV from my own created story even though I admit that I honestly suck at explaining. Some of these didn't "that" happened accurately but serves as it's symbolism instead. Honestly I wanted to add more pictures to show what part am I telling but I remember that Wattpad has its own picture limit in a chapter.

So yeah, I hope that this will still end up as a nice ending to give for you readers then.

Enjoy!

Previously on "Doughnut" PART 6...

You hummed in response, agreeing to what she said. YN: "And I'll be staying here for tonight like what I said."

Jihyo: "That's great! Atleast you finally went true to your words.", she said, smiling smugly.

YN: "Hey, that sounded like I am more recognizable at being a liar huh?", you remarked at her sarcasm towards you.

Seulgi: "Isn't that true anyways?", your cousin playfully sided with Jihyo, making your situation a 2v1 and a very unfair to your part since you are being outnumbered.

YN: "I hate you, noona.", you glared at her.

Seulgi: "And I love you too, couz.", she smiled widely and pinched you in the cheek, making you groan in annoyance.

Jihyo: "That look definitely tells a lot of horrible story behind there.", she said as she pointed at your pair of eyes with her index and middle finger.

YN: ""You're correct, and don't worry... I'll get my revenge regardless," you smirked. "All right, here's your lunch I bought for you," you said, handing her the take-out chicken donburi from Momo's restaurant. She thanked you as you eventually made your way inside, removed your shoes, and shut the door to begin spending your night with them.

The planned movie night you had with your cousin Seulgi and bestfriend Jihyo just finished when the end credits for the second film rolled.

Jihyo assisted Seulgi in cleaning the dishes as you went outside to get some fresh air and fix the area where you and Jihyo will spend the rest of your spare time together.

Seulgi was wiping the plates with a cloth when she called Jihyo, who was taken aback by the sudden call from her bestfriend and sister-figure.

"Jihyo," she called out, her gaze fixed on her task.

"Oh, unnie?", Jihyo side glanced at her.

"You're ready to do it?", Seulgi asked. Jihyo's face dropped a bit, knowing what her unnie is referring at.

"I am, unnie. I have to.", Jihyo said, stopping at washing the dishes to heave a sigh.

"Uhh, I heard something from YN a while ago back at the resto.", Seulgi said, she stopped too at what she's doing to focus more on their conversation.

"Oh, what is it?"

"Jihyo, you ain't the only one who'll confess to him. In fact, there were actually many women that are way ahead now of you. Seven, to be exact.", Seulgi said. Jihyo's eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise.

"How did he said that to you?"

"He was actually asking for my help about how he's going to pick one of these friends of his who share their true feelings for him.", she said, recalling what happened back then at the restaurant where she had dinner with you.

"I just told him that he has to do again what he did before on how to get a girlfriend. Be aware too that he also mentioned that her three exes before Ryujin were all after him now too.", she continued. Jihyo's lips were curving downwards the more her unnie speaks.

"You wanna know why I'm telling this to you now, I just wanna know if still despite after all this... would you still be able to continue what you're planning to do?", Seulgi asked Jihyo concernly, leaning her face a bit closer.

"Knowing that I have many contenders for YN's heart this time? I... I don't know noona.", Jihyo shook her head. "I'm actually thinking right now if he already decided and it makes me scared. I guess... I'm already too late again.", Jihyo sighed heavily.

"Maybe he is or maybe he isn't yet, why don't you still try?", Seulgi said, pinpointing her advice for the younger. "Jihyo, think about this. Unlike before, YN is free now. Setting aside all these women who are chasing for YN, you know you have an opportunity this time.", Seulgi said, stepping closer at Jihyo and joined her to lean their back at the edge of the sink while standing.

"So why don't you still try, hmm? Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky.", Seulgi shrugged. Her arms then went on to wrap around Jihyo's arm and grab her left arm, shaking her body lightly like as if she's rocking her.

"I just want to boost your confidence more, Jihyo. I didn't meant to scare you but I just want you to realize more that you must not let this one pass when the chance is now here. But I'm not forc-", Seulgi's words of advice were cut short when they heard your voice shouting from the outside, which they kinda both cringed because you weren't aware that it's midnight already and all the neighbors are probably comfortably sleeping right now for them to be disturbed by your loud voice.

"Jihyo, I'll get set up the blankets outside, just come here if you and noona are done there!"

"O-okay, YN!", Jihyo just decided to shout back instead since her words she'll about to say are just short. She looked back at Seulgi after. " I-I'll still do it, noona. You're right.", she nodded. "What I'm doing here is for him and only him anyways. I must not get bothered at anyone."

"Goodluck, Jihyo.", Seulgi said, patting her shoulder to support the younger.

"Thank you, noona.", Jihyo gave a flat smile in return for her unnie's help.

(AT THE BACKYARD)

"When was the last time we went stargazing together?" you asked Jihyo, your gaze fixed on the telescope you held in front of your eyes to examine the stars above.

You and Jihyo were both resting down on the blanket you had spread out on the lawn, with beverages and midnight snacks on your sides.

It was a relief when you spoke since Jihyo was plainly drowning out in her thoughts about what she and Seulgi had just talked about a while ago while staring up above like you, so your abrupt voice helped her snap out of it."I-I don't remember much, honestly. But I'm pretty sure it's when we were back at college days. 2nd year, I guess?", Jihyo responded, shrugging.

"Pretty long time, then.", you said. "Wow, well, it's great that we're doing this again, and the night is with us right now; so many stars tonight," you said as you withdrew the telescope from your eyes and handed it to Jihyo. You then took your bag of chips and picked a piece to eat.

"There's definitely a constellation formed along with those," you said, pointing to a spot of the sky where you noticed one. "It's a Cassiopeia one if i'm not mistaken", Jihyo then followed the direction of your finger you used to point out the spot.

"You know that whatever it may be, that won't still change the fact that they'll be all sparkly beautiful. They'll always be such a sight to see.", she said. You agreed with a hum.

"How are you doing these days, Ji?"

"Doing well, schedules keep piling up, but with the support of my lovely staffs, I can still finish it all off and call it a day," she replied, setting the telescope aside to fetch her own snacks. "You?"

"Same, but it's kind of a bit... confusing to me too at some point."

"Something bothering you?"

"Yeah"

"What is it then?"

"Love," you replied. Jihyo just stopped and glanced at your side profile after you chewed some potato chips. What she had heard from her Seulgi unnie earlier began to play back quicker in her thoughts.

"You know, I'm hoping that just staring at the stars will assist me with my problem," you said, your gaze fixed on the night sky. "That... I'm hoping it'll give me an answer about who can make my heart beat in an unexpected way again."

"You're suffering," Jihyo simply said what you were trying to say.

"Yeah.", you nodded.

"That you can't determine whether one of those women who poured their secrets of admiration for you would be the lucky one to get picked, doesn't it?" she rapidly replied, prompting you to turn your head to the side and face her with your puzzled expression.

"H-how did you know?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed. You just stared at her for a few more seconds since Jihyo wasn't replying until you realized what gave her the idea. "Aish, Seulgi," you said with a shake of your head.

"But, yes... you're correct."

"That's what me and Seulgi unnie discussed while you're preparing here," Jihyo said. As she moved her head away from you, the volume of her voice decreased.

"Why did you guys talk about it? Why did Seulgi-noona say that to you?" you asked. You then reached for your can of soda and sipped it, but what made you finish taking a sip wasn't satisfaction; it was the sound of her sniffing.

You hurriedly dropped your Coke can and sat up, tugging her arm back up with you. Jihyo is still covering her face as her sniffs became stronger, now accompanied by her cries.

"Jihyo, why are you crying? What is it?", you asked Jihyo worriedly while you stroke her hair to ease her off.

"B-because...", Jihyo tried to speak between the heavy breaths she's takinh while sobbing.

"Because what?"

"I... I planned something for you today, and the right time for me to do it was you and I alone together in a sky full of sparkling stars scattered around us," Jihyo began slowly, but you patiently listened to her.

"But I didn't know that I was late. Again. I'm too late already.", her sob went back again from being loud. Your concern for her grew as you approached the moment where you were about to understand what she was attempting to tell you.

"Too late for what, Jihyo?"

"...to tell you how much I love you," she said. It caused you to pause in your soothing her for a moment as what you heard from her took you completely by surprise, leaving you staring at her in awe of what she said.

You're not even sure whether you're hearing things correctly since... Park Jihyo, whom you have called and treated as a bestfriend and similar to a little sister from childhood, is... in love with you?

As you're still in amazement over what you just learnt from her tonight, a flood of questions began to run through your thoughts.

You'd had this many times in the previous few weeks, but her personal confession literally stunned you to your core because... She's the one you didn't see coming.

She was completely out of your mind when it came to your love dilemma since you assumed she was far away from it. That she's like Seulgi in that you look up at her as if she's your own sibling.

But no.

Jihyo is looking at you in other way around.

"Are you serious, Ji? W-when... I don't know... How?" you asked, both perplexed and intrigued. You were just sitting alongside her, motionless, while you watched Jihyo sob beside you.

"It had been going on for a very long time now actually, I wasn't aware of it back in our childhood days but it helped me realize when you had Nayeon while we were in college at that time," she added, recalling memories she shared with you during your first and second years of college.

"I felt something different, something unique, something interesting inside me that instead of feeling good as a supportive friend, it went backwards," she continued, flashbacks continuing. "Perhaps I was born to be an idol, since I already knew how to act appropriately at that time, as if I wasn't hurting anytime you're with her, and it still won't stop until the present," she remarked as she gathered all the moments she observed where you and Nayeon are alone together... or even when she's standing right next to you.

She also included the one in which you and Nayeon hugged in the dancing studio. At the time, she felt like her heart was exploding in pain.

"But... you had a boyfriend, right? How can you still be in love with me?" you questioned, puzzled, remembering how she stayed in love with you over the years despite having a past relationship with someone. "How does it-," your quick questions were cut short when Jihyo spoke out.

"About me and Daniel before? We were separated because we both realized we were falling out of love with one other now," she stated further, eagerly elaborating on your concerns. "Like him, I just know I'm more interested in someone else again, and that's you," she said, her eyes reddened from the tears that streamed down her cheeks like a waterfall.

"After all this time, i'm still into you.", she said as she started to wipe away the stains of tears away from her face.

"I know that there's other woman like me who wants to steal your heart away these days but I don't care anymore.", she said, shaking her head. "I waited for so many years already but I kept on being held back by the world."

"Now that I figured out that I finally have my chance here I shouldn't waste, I'm going to take it no matter what. No one can stop in my way this time, even if I'm already late again... but it sure does better than never.", she said, her tone of voice suddenly changed into a competitive, motivated and confident one as you can feel the emotion of the words she's saying. All you can do was to just continously watch her in awe.

"So, YN... I hope it'll made you finally ease your mind on deciding after this, and I hope it's because of me.", she said and the next things just came over to you like a flash of a light.

Jihyo then pushed herself between you and her, raising her body to match your face with hers and match your lips in a heart-pounding kiss.

It didn't take a minute, but it felt like hours as you felt Jihyo's plump lips crashing and grinding against yours, as if she was enjoying the flavor of your own and combining it with the heat of her love for you.

She made a slight popping sound as she slowly freed her lips from locking onto yours. At that intense and rough moment, both of you breathed heavily.

When she realized what she's done as she got right back from consciousness, her eyes widened after she looked again at you.

"S-sorry... I-I should go to sleep now, YN.", she said as stood up quickly from her feet.

"W-wait, Jihyo.", you tried to stop her but she just ignored you when she stood back up from her feet.

"Bye, YN. Goodnight.", she said while taking away her eyes off you.

"Wait!", you tried to call her again but she didn't minded it still as she returned back from the house, running away from you who just got left out alone in the backyard, now became speechless after what you just had with her tonight.

(THE NEXT DAY / MORNING)

You just had breakfast with Seulgi and Jihyo, which was embarrassing and cringe-worthy because you were seated next to your bestfriend, but you just had a very deep passionate kiss after that mind-blowing confession you received from her the night before.

You were ready to assist Seulgi in cleaning the dishes when Seulgi stopped you from taking up the plates from the table one by one.

"I'll take care of the dishes. You go to her, now."

"W-what?"

"Do you really think I won't notice what's going on at the table?" Seulgi said bluntly, lifting an eyebrow and crossing her arms. "God, the awkwardness was awfully uncomfortable, YN!" she groaned, her jaw clenched.

"So you knew she'll confess too yesterday?" you asked, remembering Jihyo telling you about her chat with Seulgi before she went stargazing with you.

"Y-yeah, she told me. Way before we head to dinner at your friend Momo's resto.", she revealed. "What happened, by the way? Did something go wrong?" she asked. Seulgi has no idea what transpired after Jihyo's confession because she fell asleep in her own room afterward. She truly wanted to observe what was going on, but her exhaustion from the day before took over.

"I don't know actually. How it ends was either good or bad. But I'm going to hold the responsibility for it. I was the one who didn't say anything about what she told me.", you said, feeling guilty for what you did that might caused also Jihyo to run away in shame from you.

"And why is that?"

"Noona w-we... we kissed.", you said as you pointed your lips twice.

"WHAT?!", Seulgi exclaimed in shock.

"Shhhh!!!", you quickly covered her mouth to make her shut up immediately. You gestured one more to make her silent and thankfully she followed.

"Okay, okay," she murmured, pushing your hand away from her. "Oh, that's why... well, she's upstairs, you can take your turn to talk about it now," she remarked, looking up at the stairs leading to the next floor above.

"I'll do it," you said, nodding. Seulgi returned your nod, and you proceeded upstairs to her room. You stood in front of her door and knocked twice to get her attention from inside.

"Jihyo, it's YN, can you let me in?" you said cautiously. Jihyo answered the door after a brief delay, but her head was down and she avoided looking at you.

"Hey, YN. W-what is it?", she said, stuttering. You can her the nervousness and fear on her voice.

"I wanted to talk about yesterday, please.", you begged softly. Gladly, she accepts as she responded with the answer you wanted to have in return.

"O-oh... all right, come in," she said. Jihyo cleared the way for you to enter. She was going to close the doors when you stopped her.

"There's no need to lock the doors, noona knows," you said. Jihyo understands it with a faint gasp. "I'll exit right after this anyhow, so... I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for having you wait," you stated as you began to plan your meeting with her for today. Jihyo's face was still hidden from you.

"I'm sure you were sending me some clues about how much you actually care for me after all this time, but I just completely ignored it since I wasn't paying close enough attention to you," you said. "And I appreciate that you finally had the confidence to speak out about it, but the kiss you gave..."

"Are you upset about it?" she asked, interrupting you. You caught a sight of her shaking hands. Now that you know she's probably afraid about confronting you because of what she did yesterday, all you wanted to do was comfort her, so you took a step forward to get closer to her.

"No. I swear, I am not, Jihyo. If that's why you're avoiding me this morning then you're thinking wrong.", you said, correcting her. "It just went... really out of nowhere for me.", you shrugged.

"S-sorry if I took advantage of your unawareness," Jihyo replied as she slowly raised her head to meet your gaze. Her expression was unhappy, and your perspective had shifted because Jihyo was looking so adorable that you just wanted to cheer her up.

"It's alright, Jihyo," you assured her. You seized the initiative to bring her into yours, widening both of your arms and gently surrounding it on her body, sealing her into your comfortable embrace. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Ji, and I'm sorry for keeping you waiting for so long," you explained. Jihyo flushed hotly at your physical contact against hers, a bittersweet sense lurking behind her lovely grin.

She's happy that she gets to have such intimacy after she presented to you her love while also sad about that she knows she only has a less possibility that she will succeed on creating a romantic relationship with you in the future.

(3 DAYS LATER)

You were sitting quietly in one of the back seats of your doughnut shop when your manager approached you.

"You ain't usually like this, boss," Bang Chan said after setting his phone on the table and taking the seat in front of you.

"H-huh?" you said anxiously when he surprised you.

"Setting yourself apart from everyone, then stay silent with your gaze as deep as your thoughts to focus, this isn't the typical you, boss," he remarked, clasping both of his hands as he faced you.

"You noticed?"

"Not just me, but them," he replied, gesturing to the rest of your staff who were working around the shop behind him. "We couldn't even talk to you properly for the majority of the time earlier since you seemed like you were zoning out, so sure, I'm here to confirm our guesses."

"Yeah, you're right," you said, feeling awful about what he said. "I'm thinking about something-no-someone right now," you said, changing the phrase to something more specific.

"Is that so? Then who causes you to become so disconnected from reality?" he asked, shaking his hand as if tracing you up and down.

"So I spent some time with them over the last few days," you explained. Bang Chan already knew what you meant when you said "them," so he adjusted his seating posture and listened to you more intently since he knew this was going to get interesting.

You've already informed Bang Chan about your "harem" situation. Bang Chan, like Seulgi, was either impressed or found it hilarious to hear that your looks could actually make many ladies fall in love with you at the same moment.

But he is also concerned since he knows her stepsister is one of those women who is attached to you and is also his friend and boss.

"I already expected from some that they'll pull off some moves towards me to impress, and they did... they really did. It's just... it wasn't enough yet.", you said, wincing at your struggle with your chosen words a bit.

"Wasn't enough? Like how?", Bang Chan asked, eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.

"For my heart.", you simply said. "I mean what they're doing wasn't enough to reawaken this familiar feeling I used to get before to my past relationships.", you said, still showcasing the troubled self of yours. "But... there was an exception among them..."

"And who is this one?", Bang Chan asked as it piqued her interest.

"Her name's Jihyo. I- she... she is my bestfriend for more than a decade now.", you answered as you also starting to introduce Jihyo at him too. Although, Bang Chan's expression along with his heart dropped a little when he heard that but still he remained to try and become fine on front of you.

"Was that the short haired girl who came here in the shop and covered your eyes while she hides at your back?"

"Yeah, that's her.", you chuckled. "Since when we were kids we already built a friendship together. Turns out, throughout most of our time we spent together... I didn't realize that the way how she sees me as a friend became more than that. She's been stuck into a one-sided love for many years already.", you shared, releasing a sigh.

"What makes her differ from the rest though?"

"I don't know it's just... she wasn't even trying but she easily... gets me.", you said, gesturing your hand like you're grabbing in front of the middle of your chest. "I guess because I'm too connected with her. Ever since that night when we... uhh...kissed....", you removed your sight away from Chan in embarassment when you said that.

"YOU KISSED?"

"She did it first!"

"And you let her?"

"I didn't know she will do it okay?", you defensed again, stating your side. "It was too fast. It happened to some too but... I'm even more affected to hers.", you said, groaning as you feel confused and troubled again.

"I still can't get out of my head., along with my entire memories being with her.", you placed both your hands to hold each side of your head. "I started to act strange when I'm with her, I became even more excited, I got easily disappointed when our time was over and what's even worse is that I can keep on complimenting her mostly about how beautiful she is and all of it makes me go crazy up until now."

"She's... Jihyo is the only one occupying my mind right now, Chan," you completed your explanation by summarizing all you had just told him.

"You sound completely in love," Bang Chan joked, rolling his eyes. "Are you saying that-" he was going to say when you cut him off in the middle of his sentence because you know what he's about to say.

"I guess I am... because I know what will happen when I have this," you said, pointing to the top of the table. Bang Chan responded with a hum. "I can't deny it no matter how hard I try; I've gone through this before, and trust me, it's inevitable."

"I... my heart is betting for Jihyo right now as from what I could describe.", you shrugged.

"But YN... I don't want to burst your bubble but... are you really sure about what you feel for her?", he asked after waving his hands off to emphasize how he doesn't intentionally want to destroy your rainbow-ish story with Jihyo. "We all know love is complicated and you're experienced already about these things but.. about what you told me that you found out that she's grown affection towards you for so long, are you sure you love for her was true or it's just because you feel pity for her and you just wanted to end it?", he asked for clarification.

" I do feel sorry for but I'm sure with this, Chan.", you answered with all tough. "I experienced this before and my empathy for her was way behind my reasons how I do fell in love with Jihyo."

"I say... it was more than a help for me not just an excuse, and she was right.", you said, your voice going lower in volume as you end. "She did helped me find that someone who can love and stay with me, willing to suffer with me just to avoid losing each other in our lives... and who's she talking about is none other than her all along.", you said, feeling more confident at the decision you made; with the image of Jihyo remained present in your mind.

"How about the rest? When are you gonna tell them that..."

"Like my cousin told me, I must not make them longer... since it will only increase the pain," you remarked, repeating one of Seulgi's advice from the dinner. "So I guess I'll have to do it... but first I'll confess to Jihyo before I go to the rest, starting tonight."

"Good luck with that, boss; I sincerely hope and wish that Jihyo is the right person for you," Bang Chan said, proud of you. You answer the supporting grin he offered you with a grateful one. " As always, you have my full support."

"Thanks, Chan.", you bowed your head as you kept the huge smile plastered i your face. It did vanished for a moment as you took time to say this after realizing also one of the consequences of your choice today.

"Hey... about Sana... I know she's one of the "others" I'm talking about. I-I'm sorry.", you said, an apologetic frown replaces the grin you're having for a while.

"It's fine, YN.", he waved it off, chuckling nervously at your sudden worriedness. "I admit, I feel sad for my sister and I really do ship you two but what can I do? I can't be against on two people who I think they match each other when they aren't even destined to be together. I can't force you to love her just because I want to make her happy.

Love doesn't always end up that way.", he explained as he wanted to assure you.

"I hope she finds her own soon, Chan. Knowing Sana, a gorgeous woman like her certainly deserves nothing but happiness with the right person for her," you added as you praised Sana, making Bang Chan believe in you.

"Yeah, my sister is the best woman I've ever known; no offense to my mom, but Sana noona's always been there for me through everything," Bang Chan agreed. He then extended his one free hand to you. "So, what you can do instead is talk to her honestly about it; I'm ready to comfort her once she knows, don't worry."

"I will.", you accepted his favor and took his hand to seal the deal with a shake. Both of you smiled at each other in contentment.

You then heard your phone rang when it got a notification. Bang Chan excused himself as he went back to service to left you once again alone.

You opened your phone and looked at the message you received which was coming from Mina.

"YN, can we talk later? I'll go there tonight. I can't specify the time but I promise I'll be there, just wait for me will you?", she said through the message she sent.

"Noted, Mina. I won't go away not until you visit here. Have a nice day!", you replied back to her and pressed the sent button. After you closed the phone, you took a note in your mind on what you need to do later tonight:

Meet Mina at the shop and then confess to Jihyo after.

(LATER THAT NIGHT)

Your doughnut shop has just closed its doors after serving one more client. Bang Chan said goodbye to you and his coworkers as they all departed together.

It's just you alone in the shop now. You chose to clean your office while waiting for Mina because you had nothing else to do.

Meanwhile, Mina has just finished offering veterinary advise to a client who has a Shiba Inu pet dog that has become food poisoned.

She was about to leave her workplace when this client begged her to help him save his dog because there are no more pet clinics in his neighborhood available left open.

Despite having second thoughts, she just accepted it since she doesn't want to disappoint the client and let the dog die, especially because she is a pet lover. She simply chose to sacrifice her time in order to arrive early for YN.

Back to your situation: you had just completed minding your own business in the restroom after successfully cleaning your office when you heard the main door of your shop clang.

"Mina?", you loudly called her name after you dried your hands from washing it.

You walked out of the wash area and went to the front of the cashier, standing at the front door. You rotated around and you didn't even see any trace of Mina.

You furrowed your eyes in confusion as you opened the door and looked around outside the shop to find Mina, but Mina's car wasn't even around the parking lot too.

"Mina you there?", you asked.

You kept on looking around back and forth.

"Hey, it's not the right time to play hide and seek, you penguin!", you loudly said as you still think Mina is just messing around with you.

But after a minute of finding Mina, you gave up as you already know that Mina won't bother hiding around the place in such a dark area. You know that penguin, she easily gets scared of the darkness.

"Maybe it's the wind.", you reasoned out as you just believed yourself that it caused the door to clang.

You closed the door and walked back inside as you went towards the cashier and grabbed the doughnut to give it a bite before you go back to your office when something made you halt in your steps.

The door clanged again.

You got terrified as you face crumpled and your eyebrows met again in confusion on what made the doors clang again this time.

So you turned around slowly.

Your eyes widened as you saw the doors now swinging in and out of the shop after it just got opened by... someone.

But you only saw that through your peripheral vision, because your sight is mainly focused at this familiar figure standing in front of you...

... holding gun as it was pointed straight at you, its finger clutching the trigger.

After that, a loud sound of a gunshot was heard around the shop and its nearby places.

"Why isn't he replying?" Mina wondered as she nervously waited for any response from you on her phone. She just texted that she's on her way to your doughnut store and apologized for having to serve a client first due to an emergency.

She came at your shop a few minutes later and parked her car in one of the available spaces. She stepped outside and walked through the door.

But she hadn't been able to fully enter her place because what she had just seen in front of her eyes had caused her to come to a stop in her tracks.

Mina just noticed you laying down on the tiled floor, blood pouring from your body and forming a tiny pool.

Her eyes welled up with tears as she gently stepped back into the shop to get a better look at you, although she realized it was a terrible idea.

The closer her steps got to you, the more she felt like her heart was being crushed into little pieces and her body was losing its balance.

Mina's heavy sobbing resonated across the room as she repeatedly yelled your name, full of anger, devastation, sorrow, and rage.

The police and ambulance arrived at the doughnut shop. Other people who are close to you like Jihyo and Seulgi arrived at the crime scene first, followed by Chaeyoung after getting notified by Mina through your phone.

They all experienced the same reaction that Mina had when she saw your bloody lifeless body on the floor, as expected.

Even the others who learned of your untimely death in their own different ways. Nayeon, Jeongyeon, Momo, and Tzuyu heard and saw the news on the radio, TV, and social media, while Sana learnt about the murder through her stepbrother Bang Chan after Chaeyoung informed him.

A week later, there was a funeral for your burial. All nine girls, along with their friends and some of your acquaintances, attended, including your former favorite professor back in your first year of college, Mrs. Song, your friend and manager Bang Chan, your cousin Seulgi with her girlfriend Irene, Chaeyoung's friend Somi, Tzuyu's friends Shuhua and Taehyung, along with his boyfriend Jungkook, and even your ex-girlfriend Ryujin with her girlfriend Yeji.

Days later, the nine girls who met during the investigation of your murder case and your burial began to get to know each other through their arranged meetup.

As their topic turned into their own revelations that they all love the same person who just tragically passed away and never to be seen again for the rest of their lives, it landed back on the question if you had decided already who could be one of them that you chose to love the same too.

Until someone revealed it for you...

"Jihyo."

" Yes?", she responded back at the girl who called her name. It was Chaeyoung.

"It's you. YN fell in love with you," Chaeyoung stated solemnly. After hearing that, everyone's gaze was drawn to Jihyo.

"M-me? Is that t-true?" she chuckled nervously, still perplexed by what Chaeyoung was on about. "H-how do you know-"

"Chan told me," she asked. She rewinded what she talked about with Bang Chan in the shop's kitchen when she visited, which was the last words Chan heard from you.

"He told me that YN and him discussed in his last moments, and their entire topic? You," she continued, piercing her eyes further at Jihyo, who is beginning to cry over Chaeyoung's story involving her. "He was telling how he felt after you confessed to him, and it helped him clarify things... about what he thinks of you too," she stated as the girls continued to listen even if their hearts were broken by the outcome they were anticipating to hear from you.

"Jihyo..., YN fell in love with you because he felt the strongest connection with you, therefore I think it's safe to say that... out of all of us here, you suffered the biggest loss. I'm very sorry, Jihyo," Chaeyoung expressed her condolences to the girl who had suffered more than she could bear.

Jihyo's love loop reminded Chaeyoung of the pink doughnut that stayed well baked among the eight burnt doughnuts in the oven. Jihyo's love loop was the sole well-baked doughnut, while the rest were the girls' love loops. You are the oven, and your heat was the love that enhances color to their love circle with you, which you maintained for Jihyo by giving her the same exact amount of that heat of love she needs.

"I didn't meant to hurt you more for this, I just want you to know about it because... that's what YN actually wanted to happen if he didn't died.", Chaeyoung said. The rest agreed, except for one of them who still side eyeing Jihyo with her secret burning glare.

"T-thank you... thank you for telling me...", Jihyo said before she went on sobbing heavily as one of the girls beside her, Jeongyeon conforted her by caressing her back.

Few days have passed again, the suspect for killing you was found and arrested, revealing to be Wonpil, your former employee which you fired due to his misbehavior towards a customer.

He stated that he killed you because he blames you for being the cause of getting his life ruined after you took away the job he only need to live normally. He was sentenced for many years in jail after and the girls felt that you finally received the justice you deserve.

The nine girls still remained grieving on your passing in their own respective ways for months.

Thanks to Tzuyu, the new owner of your doughnut store, Nayeon once ordered a doughnut for herself and Mrs. Song, whom she brought along with her at your newly renovated doughnut shop, as Tzuyu fulfilled her promise to you that she'll help your business improve and grow even if you're gone.

When she was ready to receive it back, she looked at the server and hallucinated that it was you at first, but was quickly reversed when Bang Chan, who was actually serving her, asked her if there was something wrong.

Nayeon's sole response was that she remembers you, causing Bang Chan to sigh and comfort her noona in return.

Jeongyeon also went to the shop once and thought it was weird that you weren't there anymore.

She also dyed her hair back to blonde because she believes her former baby blue colored one will be meaningless to maintain because you were the only one who asked her to keep it because you liked it, and now that you're gone, t

here will be no one to enjoy and appreciate Jeongyeon's haircolor.

Sana had the impression that you were still sitting in front of her, even though she was alone at her table, because she remembered her previous time with you, when she consoled you after your breakup with Ryujin while also confessing her feelings for you.

Sana then whispered "I love you" to the air as her indirect message for you as she smiled with love, longing and sadness in it before she continues to sip her hot coffee alone.

While thinking deeply about you, Dahyun unconsciously wrote an "I miss you" message in a spilled sugar at the shop. She was the most envious of the girls, and she was the one who gave Jihyo a venomous glance when Chaeyoung told to them all that Jihyo was the one you chose. When she heard that, her frustration and hurt about your death rose, prompting her to ponder more vigorously for the past few days.

She revealed once that she imagined about killing Jihyo everytime she sees her in order to make her feel what she felt after you died, including their encounter back at the gathering as one of the possibilities she could envision; but she has no plans of doing it for real because she knows she ain't that type of person.

Tzuyu, the new owner of your shop, just went by Dahyun's table after checking on the customers and observed her lost in her thoughts once more. She glanced at Dahyun worriedly, recognizing the "I miss u" she wrote on the sugar, and soothed her with a swift hug. Dahyun was astonished by Tzuyu's touch, and when she realized what Tzuyu's hug was for, she buried her face in the crook of her neck.

"This isn't right anymore...", Dahyun sobbed, shaking her head quickly as she realized her situation was getting worse all because of you and she wanted to stop it right away.

Tzuyu, who got what she's talking about since she's thought the same when she heard about Dahyun's story of imagining killing Jihyo once; just nodded back at Tzuyu and ease her tears out with her soft, gentle hums.

(8 MONTHS LATER)

Mina and Chaeyoung, who became friends, were discussing about you and even Jihyo while laying on the floor after taking a break from preparing the gifts and the decorations when Chaeyoung brought it up as a topic during their stay at one of the rooms they rented during their Christmas season holiday in Japan, together with Seulgi, who is now married to her girlfriend Irene.

"I'm more concerned about Jihyo.", Chaeyoung said, full of pity on her voice.

"She suffered the most. I mean, the pain you must take along with the fact that you won't be ever to see anymore the one who made you understand what love is? That must be unbearable.", Mina said.

"Agree. She really took YN's passing like a gunshot to her stomach that was once full of butterflies going crazy only because of him.", Chaeyoung said while nodding her head, making Mina hummed at her in agreement as she understands what Chaeyoung meant that she's putting in her head.

The two went outside along with the rest of the girls, except for Seulgi and Irene who explored Japan by theirselves. They let the couple enjoy their own time together instead so the nine of them just visited a park near the hotel they're staying at.

Jihyo remembered making a snow angel with YN while looking at the other one that had formed on the snowy surface. She then lay by it, remembering her time with you while she imagines making her own snow angel with you, pretending that you're the one making the one alongside her.

Tzuyu wanders throughout the park, rotating around the snow. She then remembers the time when you and her danced after you had a proper closure with her.

She was returned to reality with her final swing of her body, just as you were when you let go of her to conclude your dance with her song together in her mind.

Mina was standing along a wall in one section of the park, imagining herself running around while being followed by you, as she recalls doing the same with you when she teasingly snatched your house keys after seeing them fall from your pocket while both of you were talking.

It came to a halt when you successfully pursued her and uncontrollably fell on top of her while lying on the ground, signaling the beginning of her intense deep attraction through you the instant her eyes landed on your closed up face.

While she was savoring the beautiful memory she shared with you, she noticed snowflakes begin to fall in front of her, drawing her attention and, sadly, dragging her away back from reality.

Momo on the other hand, got called by the rest of the girls after she saw the snowman as she recalled the snowman she puts a scarf on along with her happiest memory of her life she had with you, which is when she first developed her romantic attraction to you while she's fixing your scarf during your time with her together.

She noticed the snow starting to fall again from above before she responded back to the girls.

"Wait for me!", Momo shouted after she stood up. She then joined the girls and gathered to form a circle as they decided to pray for you.

After ending their prayers, they admired the snow falling around them, along with their own message for you one more time.

They promised to you silently that they will now reach their acceptance stage by finally letting go and moving on from your love, freeing theirselves from their love loop that was being toxic already because of their too much attachment at you even at your death...

...except for one of them who thinks differently from them, still unable as she struggle to remove herself from her own what ifs and regrets.

(EXACTLY 1 YEAR LATER/ BACK TO THE PRESENT DAY)

NOVEMBER 2022

All of what happened suddenly played quickly right backfrom the beginning.

Returning back to the present, it was to a snowy nighttime under the dark sky with stars sparkling covering it , a street with many people are gathering around along with police cars and ambulance cars parked outside of a doughnut shop.

The policemen are trying to guard these civilians who are curiously watching what's happening from entering the crime scene.

Inside the shop has some evidences which has been marked, but there is one which if you look at it, you will think that is the most important one out of all the evidences that has been found by the policemen and detectives.

A bitten white doughnut with red syrup flowing from its inside is seen laying on a floor with police barrier tapes around its space.

From the dark corner of the shop, a woman slowly appears near to the bitten doughnut.

It was Mina who is dreaming of visiting back the crime scene during her sleep, she sat and looked closely at the bitten doughnut.

A frowning expression in her face can be seen as she remembers everything what happened before this unexpected tragic moment....

... and now, finally able to do the right thing just the same as what the other girls did; a drop of tear flowed out of Mina's face.

"I love you YN, but if I will remain my heart linked for you... I'll never recover.", she whispered while sniffing during her cry.

She knows that the love loop she created which is like a doughnut she used to love made from you, it was such a sweet and sensational feeling she experienced rotating around its hole in the shape of you; but now she realized that although it is a loop which has no beginning nor end, it doesn't mean it can't be changed, disrupted or replaced.

Just like what the other girls did, they all made it possible by breaking their own instead and prevented its negative effects. She can see it already from them, especially from Nayeon, Jeongyeon and Jihyo who are already recovered and currently living back with full of happiness. Since, that's what Mina wanted to have and she believes you also wanted it for them too, she decided to follow what the girls did.

Standing slowly, she looked one more time at the bitten doughnut you ate before you were shot dead as it laid right next to your dead body when she saw you before leaving away from the crime scene along with her love for you; simultaneously ending her own love loop too in the process before her alarm wakes her back from her dream with a stain of teardrop visible in her face while still unknown for her whether she'll wander to another new love loop to start again.

THE END

-🐰🐶🐿🐹🦄🐧🦅🐯🦌-

#twice #twiceau #twiceoneshots #twicexreader #nayeonxreader #jeongyeonxreader #momoxreader #sanaxreader #jihyoxreader #minaxreader #dahyunxreader #chaeyoungxreader #tzuyuxreader #twicexmalereader #kpopau #kpoponeshots

20 notes · View notes

wangxianficrecs · 3 years ago

Text

Follower Recs

~*~

Hello Mojo, hope you're doing well and that you had a good break! I wanted to signal boost the MDZS May Diaspora event collection on AO3, and point out my favorite fic from there: 归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home by dragongirlG! It's both tender and bittersweet and it features such mature writing. The author got some hate for it when it initially got posted so I wanted to counter that and give it some love instead! [Who would do such a thing?! @dragongirlg-fics I’m sorry that happened to you, and here, have *so many hugs!* I’ll try to do a thing just for the diaspora event, but meanwhile, I’ll just treat this as a follower rec.]

归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home

by dragongirlG (M, 8k, wangxian)

Summary: The destruction of the Yin Tiger Seal does not kill Wei Wuxian; it ages him instead. He takes shelter in a cave expecting to die, but instead he lives, slowly learning to embrace life with each new day.

Thirteen years later, a young man with a Lan forehead ribbon stumbles into the cave. His name is Lan Sizhui.

~*~

Hi Momjo!!! I recently read the most *adorable* fic, and I loved it so much that it dragged me out of seclusion (read: social anxiety cave) to rec it. It's called 'Covered in Bees' by ScarlettStorm in which the Cloud Recesses is an apiary, and Wei Wuxian has suddenly found himself host to a swarm of bees. ~ @akyra-talanoa

Covered in Bees

by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, wangxian)

Summary: “Cloud Reccesses Apiary,” says a toneless, deep masculine voice, with zero question in it. Wei Ying doesn’t care, because whoever possesses that voice is probably going to come save him from bees like a fucking hero while wearing like, a suit of armor. That’s what you wear to catch bees, right?

“I have like, so many bees outside my front door right now,” he says, mouth running out ahead of him before he can even begin to think about reining it in. “It’s like a sandstorm of bees out there. There are so many bees. I got out of my car and there were just bees and I don’t want these bees. Do you want these bees? Please tell me you will come get these bees. I can’t leave my house and I have enough food for maybe a week but then I’m gonna have to learn how to cook dry beans and no one wants that, especially not me.” Wei Ying runs out of air, takes a breath, and belatedly adds, “My name is Wei Ying. Hi.”

Or: The beekeeping AU that no one asked for.

~*~

Hi, you are a bless to this fandom. Your blog feels like a library, so thoroughly arranged and always within hand reach. [Thank you, wow!] Recently, I was going through Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn is a Wēn tag and came across a fanfic, it has 3 chapters till now and is so intriguing that i thought to recommend it to you. I don't know if I can recommend or if you have already checked the story, The legendary Phoenix and his Dragon by Devipriya. I am in love with this story. I hope you will enjoy it too, do check it out

The legendary Phoenix and his Dragon

by Devipriya (T, 7k, wangxian)

Summary: Wen Wuxian, the essence of who he is, he is a naughty child, a prankster, an enchanting dizi player, a graceful dancer, an irresistible lover, a truly valiant warrior, a ruthless vanquisher of his foes, a man who left a broken heart in every home, an astute statesman and kingmaker, a thorough gentleman, a righteous individual of the highest order, and the most colorful incarnation.

He has been seen, perceived, understood and experienced in many different ways by different people. Different people saw different facets of who he is. For some, he is God. For some, he is a crook. For some, he is a lover. For some, he is a fighter. He is so many things.

But the phoenix, seen from the eyes of time was just a playful man. A man who plays with his awareness, with his imagination, with his memory, with his life, with his death. An individual who does not just dance with somebody. He dances with life. He dances with his enemy, He dances with the one he loves, He dances even at the moment of his death.

To taste an essence of who is Wen Wuxian, be with me in the journey of exploration, NO! playful exploration of life of a playful man.

~*~

Hi! Thanks for running this blog, it's helped me find so many fics. For your next follower recs post, I wanted to rec "This love like a flood, a fire, a fear" by natcat5. Its summary is vague (which I suspect is why it isn't better known) but it is a beautiful retelling of canon from LWJ's POV with slight canon divergence. I love the author's characterization of him and the prose is gorgeous. It is easily my favorite fic in the entire fandom, and I don't say that lightly. ~ @nyanja14

This love like a flood, a fire, a fear

by natcat5 (M, 57k, wangxian, lan wangji & lan xichen)

Summary: “I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch everything go wrong.” - Lemony Snicket

~*~

i came to this ask to rec this baseball one called "Waiting for Spring" by thievinghippo on ao3. It somehow made me care about baseball soooo 'nough said ~ @scifikimmi

Waiting for Spring

by thievinghippo (E, 131, wangxian)

Summary: “It is a well-known fact across the major leagues that one does not smack Lan Wangji’s ass.”

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. Everyone smacks everyone’s ass in baseball. It’s how the game is played. Lan Wangji does not get to be exempt from this most sacred of baseball traditions.

Wei Wuxian will make sure of that.

Or, a Major League Baseball AU

~*~

hi mojo! i wanted to rec Something Good by boxoftheskyking (a loose sound of music/canon divergence au) and also MDZS: The Golden Engine by iffervescent (immortal wangxian modern au where they gotta solve a mystery and save china, featuring jiang cheng/lan xichen)

Something Good

by boxoftheskyking (T, 43k, wangxian)

Summary: "That Wei Wuxian, you know he used to be such a promising cultivator. Head Disciple of the Jiang Clan, can you believe it? You see, juniors, the punishment for traveling the path of demonic cultivation. No golden core, not so much as a whisper of spiritual power."

As a punishment for real and imagined crimes, Wei Wuxian is sentenced to work at Cloud Recesses as the lowest of servants. When a surprising reassignment lands him with eleven children to care for, everything changes again.

A Sound of Music AU

MDZS: The Golden Engine

by iffervescent (E, 82k, wangxian, xicheng)

Summary: In the modern era, immortals Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian return to Gusu. New evil and old friends + new friends and old evils.

~*~

Hi Mojo! First of all let me just tell you that you are amazing and this blog is like a gift from the gods! Bless you and your endless patience and hard work. [Oh, thank you so much!] I know that you have just accepted follower recs and I have missed miserably but I still wanted to write and bring attention to a writer by the pseudo Xiao_Hua on ao3, I think they are quite good and I just recently found the account with so much content. If you do have the time to check them out, I'd rec catfish, my fox or the red ribbon.

The Red Ribbon

by Xiao_Hua (M, 21k, wangxian, TGCF crossover)

Summary: Wei WuXian died but not before saving HanGuang-Jun and A-Yuan, leaving so much more behind than just his ribbon.

My Fox

by Xiao_Hua (E, 13k, wangxian)

Summary: Once he headed to YiLing that all changed for him. His priorities have been mingled with and ordered in complete disarray even without him noticing as he was left heavily influenced by a creature.

Or one where Lan WangJi is a dragon-spirit and he finds his mate in the form of a fox.

Catfish

by Xiao_Hua (E, 15k, wangxian)

Summary: Wei WuXian has a common sense that believes it has a nine-to-five job while Lan WangJi finds that incredibly hot.

Or one where two catfish realise that neither of them truly catfished.

~*~

Hi Mojo i'm recommending this amazing fic it is called song of joys and regrets. it's a time travel AU it's amazing. And your Blog is a Godsend Thank you! [Aw, you’re so sweet!] ~ @highgoddess

Song of Joy and Regrets

by HelloKitten (not rated, 59k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: The Archery competition at Qishan this year has hit a snag. As the Sects face the wrongs perpetrated by their future selves, Wei Wuxian finds himself adopted by half of the cultivation world who are determined to save him from himself.

Baby Wangxian suffers. Adult Wangxian's job here is done.

"I'm starting to see a pattern to all his plans..." "Do they all involve him being bait?" "Yes" came deadpanned responses.

~*~

Here’s a 2021 Reverse Big Bang entry, in time for Father’s Day; [Oops, my bad, sorry!] Under a Blanket of Black Wings, by ChaoticAndrogynous (#31398395); LWJ, recuperating from the 33 lashes, tells A-Yuan a series of fairytales about a heroic monster and the brave little boy he befriended. Vampire! WWX (in the framing story as well as the story-within-the-story); happy ending.

Under a Blanket of Black Wings

by ChaoticAndrogynous (T, 19k, wangxian)

Summary: Lan Wangji tells A-Yuan a bedtime story about a beautiful monster and the brave little boy who was his friend. Thirteen years later, the monster returns.

~*~

Hello Mojo! Have you read ‘Key Differences’ by Pupeez4eva? Its a MDZS!WWX meets CQL!WWX and its really good! [It’s on my list!]

Key Differences

by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian)

Summary: “I don’t understand,” Wei Wuxian said, while his alternate self continued to stare at him with almost a look of hurt in his eyes. There was longing in there too, which Wei Wuxian would have easily recognised if he paid enough attention. “How could you not get together, after everything. What even went on in the Guanyin Temple if you didn’t confess?”

“The Guanyin Temple,” Wei Ying repeated incredulously. “You’re asking me if I confessed at — honestly, a lot went on that day. It was a life and death situation. There was no confessing.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him, appalled.

(Wherein Wei Wuxian ends up meeting an alternate version of himself who, much to his horror, never married Lan Wangji. Obviously he has to do something to fix this).

~*~

Hey Mojo i would recommend this fanfic if you already haven’t, it’s called “ take me back to a time “ by DizziDreams. It’s sooooo good

take me back to a time

by DizziDreams (T, 144k, wangxian, 3zun)

Summary: Wei Ying has a lot on his plate right now.

It’s finals week -- which isn’t so bad. He’s never had to study much to do well in classes. But that just means that things are that much more tense with Jiang Cheng, who, as far as Wei Ying can tell, only takes study breaks long enough to glare at Wei Ying where he sits on the couch playing video games.

It’s not studies that have Wei Ying stressed out. It’s everything else. It’s the recruitment for the research trial he’s coordinating. It’s jiejie and her impending marriage to His Royal Douchebag Jin Zixuan. It’s the volunteer work at the palliative care facility. It’s Wen Ning’s worsening condition. It’s Wen Qing working herself thin to care for her brother and Wen Yuan. It’s the way Wen Yuan never seems to have enough food.

So, yeah. There’s enough on Wei Ying’s plate already, meaning it’s not entirely welcome when he comes home and finds a man standing in his bedroom. A man in extravagant white robes, a ribbon tied around his forehead, long hair gathered into a topknot, fist clutching a sword at his side, who asks him, “Where am I?”

~*~

Idk if this has already been rec’d (I’ve been off the grid for a while now), but there’s this absolutely incredible fic called Restitution by an anon on ao3 people should definitely check out!

this one?

on restitution

by Anonymous (M, 78k, wangxian, jin ling & wei wuxian, lan sizhui & wei wuxian, WIP)

Summary: When Wei Wuxian regains consciousness, he is in a bed. A real, proper bed, not the slab he called a bed in his cave in the Burial Mounds.

Jiang Cheng is glowering above him.

Wei Wuxian doesn't die during the siege of the Burial Mounds. Rather, he is captured in secret and confined at Lotus Pier. Things change accordingly.

~*~

Hi momjo! I feel like every time I come to your blog there's twenty more new and amazing fics for me to read. Thank you for everything you do for this fandom! [Thank you, sweetie! And yes, I think there ARE 20 new fics every day out there in the fandom. It’s amazing!] Today I come bearing my own rec to you. I've recently read this and it's IMO one of the best fics out there. It's called Lapsteel by carriecmoney and it's a modern stormchaser AU featuring country songs and coming home. ~ @manaika-chan

Lapsteel

by carriecmoney (T, 42k, wangxian)

Summary: Now and then, I think about you now and then...

It's been thirteen years since Wei Ying ran for the prairies, leaving behind a family in shambles and a secret on the Pacific wind. What happens when the storm he swirled catches up to him?

Modern AU with country music star Lan Zhan, stormchaser Wei Ying, and shared crossroads.

~*~

#wangxian fic rec #follower recs #wangxian #mdzs #the untamed #follower rec #I HAVEN'T READ THESE YET

211 notes · View notes

127-mile · 3 years ago

Text

How to find a dead witch.

Pairing: Slytherin!Ten x Slytherin!female reader.

Genre: Hogwarts!au, best friends to lovers | Fluff, angst.

Warnings: A lot of inaccuracy when it comes to the Harry Potter universe, strong language, use of a curse against the reader, light mention of drugs being sold.

Plot: Ten’s mother left one morning. Something that always bothered him. One day, he found a letter. A clue on what could have happened. He needs to find her, he needs to understand, but for that, he has to be expelled from Hogwarts. Enters his best friend, ready to help him: you.

Word count: +13k.

A/N: This is part of the Of witchcraft and wizardry collab hosted by @danishmiilk.

"Are you aware that you are bothering everyone standing like an idiot in the middle of the fucking hallway?" you ask, and Ten looks up from his charms book. "Are you all right? Is someone threatening your life to the point where you actually have to read what is inside this book?" he stays quiet, so you take the opportunity to speak again. "If you need help, please, blink twice."

"Why are you bothering me?" he asks in a sigh, and you tilt your head to the side.

"I would not be talking to you if I had the choice, but you are pissing everyone off, so me talking to you is what is needed to keep you from being punched in the face by Yuta." you answer. "So you should thank me instead of running your dirty snake tongue."

"You think I care about the other students? That's cute." maybe you should let Yuta punch him in the face, he serves it.

"You clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed, so see you later." you turn on your heels, and you head for the Great Hall for breakfast. As usual, the room is noisy, but you do not mind, after almost seven years, you learnt how to block them.

"Where's Ten?" Yangyang asks as you settle down next to him, and you shrug.

"Standing in the middle of the hallway, reading and being a bitch to anyone who apparently dares to talk to him." the young Slytherin chuckles.

"Yeah, sounds like Ten to me." you take a piece of toast, and you barely have time to bite into it when you feel someone sit next to you.

"Sorry." Ten mumbles, and you know it probably hurts him to say this, and that he is only saying it because he does not want to spend the day alone, but it still feels nice to hear him say that.

"You are not, but it's okay. What is wrong with you? Did something happen? Did someone try to lock you in your trunk again?"

"Oh come on, that was one time, and it was a week after being transferred here." the week Ten officially became an Hogwarts student was extremely funny, because the seventh years tried to see if he really belonged with the snakes, and they realized that he did, but only after a week of light and fun torture. Fun for you, definitely not for him.

"Then what happened? You know you can tell me everything, I'm not one to judge." Ten turns his face towards you, and you can't quite describe the emotion on his face. Dumbfounded, maybe?

"You judge everything, and everyone around you! That's why I never tell you anything." well, that hurts, but you do not say it out loud, instead, you sip on your cup of pumpkin juice.

"It's too early to force you to talk with a spell, Ten, so you should do it, and right now." the young man sighs, and you hear a giggle beside you. Yangyang is watching you, and he is having a great time. You do not know why, but the second year took a liking to the both of you, maybe because you have no idea what you are doing, and he can relate? Or because you are actually nice on good days? Eh, you don’t know, and you do not mind one bit, he is cute. And he knows how to sneak into the kitchen to bring snacks.

"I found something strange in my room when I woke up," he starts, and you turn on the wooden bench to face him. "it was a letter I've never seen before." you shrug, it is not unusual to find letters in the morning if one's owl did not have time to bring them mail the day before. "Before you start telling me I am being dramatic, hear me out."

You hate how long he takes to open his mouth again, does he want to create suspense? Because you hate suspense, you do not need it, you need to know, and right now! "This is not just a simple letter, it's..." he takes a deep breath and you have to physically restrain yourself from slapping him. "it's a letter from my mother, she wrote it when she was pregnant with me."

"How is that possible? Didn't you say she left without leaving any of her stuff behind?" he nods.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking! She took absolutely everything that belonged to her, and how come one of the letters ended up in my room, here, in Hogwarts?" this is weird, you think.

"Do you think your father could have sent it to you? Maybe he found it, and thought it could make you happy to have something from her, even if it's just a letter?" he shakes his head, playing with his toast.

"He found a picture of her once, and he immediately threw it in the fireplace, so I don’t think he would have sent it to me."

"Did you read it?" you ask, and he takes the letter our of the charms book he was reading in the hallway earlier. Now you understand that he was reading the letter, not the book. "A few times." he answers, and you look up when you hear noises around you.

"It's time to go to class."

"I don't feel like going." he mumbles, and honestly, you don’t feel like going either, so you look around. You stand up when you find one of the slytherin in your year, and you smile sweetly.

"Hi, could you do me a favor?" you ask, and the young man flushes at the sudden attention.

"Y-yes?"

"Could you tell profession Kim that Ten and I are not feeling well? That we'll catch up on the class tomorrow, please?" he frowns, and you put your hand on his shoulder. "If you do it, and make it believable, of course, I'll go on that library date you asked me for a few months ago."

The way his eyes open wide is funny, but you do not laugh, he is already ready to tell you to fuck off, you don’t need to ruin your chance. "Alright, I'll tell him." you lean in, and you kiss his cheek.

"You are the best, I'll owe you one, I promise." when he starts talking about the date, you turn on your heels to join Ten again.

"Let's go back to the common room." you say, and he does not ask question, he knows better than to do that.

The refreshing smell of mind invades your senses as soon as you step inside the common room, and you smile. You never thought you would feel at home in Hogwarts, but you were wrong, you do feel at home when you are in the common room, when the fire crackles in the fireplace.

You sit on the armchair, and Ten slumps down on the old leather couch, the letter clutched to his chest. "So, tell me about the letter." you say, and he inhales, coughing because of the cloud of dust coming from the couch each time he moves.

"My love," he starts to read out loud. "the nurse told me the baby was a boy, can you imagine? A little boy is growing inside of me, our little boy. I feel sad knowing you will not be there to see him grow as beautiful and as strong as you. To be honest with you, I do not think I will be able to do that either, do not ask me why, I have a bad feeling."

He stops to catch his breath, and you hear how it hitches in his throat. "I wish the situation was different. I wish I was with you. I wish you could see our little boy. I wish so many things, and unfortunately, I know it is impossible. If I ever miss our monthly letter, please, look for me. If I ever miss our monthly letter, it means he did it, he finally acted on his thoughts. Tenderly, your love."

You straighten up on the armchair, eyes narrowed. "What the fuck?" that's not what Ten wanted to hear, but he takes it. This is what he thought after reading it for the first time. "So, if I understand everything corretly, your father is not your father, and your not-so-father could be the reason your mother left?"

"The reason my mother disappeared." Ten corrects, and you hum. That's a lot to take in, and you understand why he was so distraught this morning. You would be too, if you were in his situation. You do not even want to think about how he might feel inside. His head is probably such a mess, a mess you'll never be able to comprehend.

"If your mother disappeared, don't you think your father would have thrown away or burnt every little thing? Finding this letter doesn’t make any sense, maybe she really left, for her safety?" Ten shakes his head, he tried to think about all of the possiblities, but nothing seems plausible.

"If she was scared for her safety, she should have taken me with her!" he exclaims. "This guy she was sending letters to was my biological father, she wanted him to be with us, to see me grow, so if she left, she should have taken me because if she did leave, it was to find him." he stands up, and you follow him around the common room with your eyes.

"Maybe she didn’t have time? Maybe she had to leave suddenly?"

"I don't fucking know!" he yells, and you wince when he throws the letter in the fireplace. The paper turns into ashes right away, and you know he is going to regret this. "I don't fucking care either." he goes up the stairs to his room, mumbling something between clenched teeth, and you feel bad for him, you feel bad because he is your best friend, you are supposed to help him, and yet, you are useless.

You stand up, and you gather the ashes of the letter, and with a quick movement of your wand, the letter is back to what it used to be. Parchment damaged by the years, beautiful handwriting, and so much more to discover.

"Why do you look live you've just seen a ghost?" you ask when Ten enters the common room. "You know Peeves can't actually hurt you, right?" he pushes your legs out of the couch and he sits down, the poor boy looks so lost in his thought, you nudge him hard enough for him to whine and turn his head.

"Peeves is a little shit, I want to kick his poor poltergesist's ass." he mumbles and you chuckle, you want that too. "My wand is acting strange, I almost jinxed myself earlier!" you shake your head.

"What were you trying to jinx, you absolut idiot? You know we can't use jinx in the school!"

"That is not the most important! What is important is that my wand seems to want to run away from me!" you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing.

"Did you take something from Johnny? You know it is bad for your health, the guy doesn’t know what he is doing, or selling for that matter, he just wants some money for Hogsmeade."

"Why are you always jumping to the dumbest conclusions? Oh my god, why am I even friend with you!" he says in the most dramatic way he can musters.

"I am your only friend, so it's not like you have much of a choice here, so suck it up."

"I'm serious, my wand is trying to fucking run away from me!" he takes his wand out of his robe, and he puts it on the coffee table. Right away, the wand falls down to the ground, and you put it on some air flow coming from the frame, but it starts to move farther away from them.

"What the fuck?"

"Are you sure you did not try to piss off Peeves? Maybe he is possessing your wand or some shit!" you do not see any other explanation, to be honest. But can poltergeists even possess wands?

"I didn't do anything! It's just been acting like that ever since I woke up this morning."

"Maybe we should follow it?" you propose, and he things about it.

"We are going to look stupid if we follow a want around, don't you think?" yes, he is not wrong.

"If you hold it, does it try to lead you somewhere? Like push you to walk?" he shrugs but he stands up to grab the wand.

At first, nothing happens, but then, he has the weird impression of being projected towards the frame. "I guess it does." you stand up too, you are not going to let Ten wander in the castle without you. The frame opens, and he keeps walking where the wand is pulling him.

"That's so fucking weird." you whisper, following him closely and he shakes his head.

"Everything been weird ever since I found that letter." yes, the letter. The letter you have been hiding inside of your trunk ever since he tried to burn it, but you do not really think about it, you don’t want to think about the reaction Ten would have if he knew.

"Hey guys, what are you doing?" Yangyang asks, stopping in the middle of the staircase, and you both shrug.

"Following a possessed wand around, nothing crazy." he giggles, but he stops when he sees the wand in Ten's hands move around.

"Can I come? I'm supposed to join Hendery and Dejun in the library to study, but I don't feel like it."

You and Ten share a look, and you both shrug. "Yeah, sure." he squeals with delight at the idea of having a reason to forget about his homework, and he follows you. If he is normally really loud and giggly, this time, he is quite calm, maybe because he understood the tension in between Ten and you. He knowns something is going on.

"What is in this room?" Yangyang asks when you stop in front of a door, and you heave a sigh.

"Nothing. A potion accident happened a few years ago, and it was never used again. Something about fumes they could not get rid of even with magic." if the professors refuse to use this room, this is probably not safe for you to enter.

"Alohomora." you say, your own wand pointed to the lock that opens right away. Well, that was not so hard, which could be dangerous in case wizards would like to hook up somewhere. The room is bathed in sunlight, so it is not hard to see what is inside.

A few tables and chairs are pushed on one side, a weird-looking stain on the ground and on the ceiling, and dust. A lot of dust, to the point whre it becomes hard to breathe inside. "So, what are we looking for?" Yangyang cloes his mouth to avoid swallowing too much dust, and he looks around him. There is nothing out of the ordinary.

You walk in the old classroom, and...oh! "I think that's what we are looking for." from under one of the desks, you pull a letter. You were expecting to see the same pretty handwritting on the old parchment, but no, the writing is more rough, and the ink is bleeding on the paper, maybe from tears, or rain.

"What does it say?" Ten asks, and you did not think he would trust you enough to read a letter that is clearly intented for him before having a loot at it himself.

"Ew!" you almost gag when you see a lock of hair attached to the letter. The hair is black, the same shade of black as Ten's hair used to be before he found the spell to turn it blonde. "That is disgusting, who would attach hair to a fucking letter!"

"I think I know why." Ten says, and he lets himself slide down one of the walls, to the ground and you keep yourself from gaggin again. The floor is dirty to the point where it is impossible to see the color of the carpet underneath. "My mother was a veela."

Yeah, that does not answer your question in the slightest, but he opens his mouth again, so you close yours. "There is a lock of my mother's hair in my wand, just like there is horned serpent horn in your wand, which is why my wand was attracted to this room, because this is a lock of my mother's hair. It needed to find its other half."

That makes a lot of sense, and more than for the wand, or why they are here. That explains why Ten's face looks unreal. "I thought they stopped putting veela's hair in wands because it was unstable?" Yangyang asks, head tilted to the side. His eyes shine with excitement and it is adorable.

"My mother personally asked for it, and paid the price for it to be done."

"Do you think she did it on purpose? For you to have a way to find her when time comes?" he did not think about it this way, but that could be possible.

"Read the letter, maybe we'll know more about it."

"My love, I wish I could ask for this letter to find you in good health, and surrounded by love and happiness, but I know this is not the case, and I am truly sorry. I will keep the lock of your hair like my most precious possession, and use it when you will deem it right. Even though I hope I will never have to use it. My heart hurts just thinking about using it, the possibilities behind the use it will have. Kiss our beautiful boy for me, tell him his father loves him and can't wait to meet him. I love you."

Before Ten can react, Yangyang raises his hand to stop him, and he speaks so quick you have to ask him to repeat more calmly this time. "If Ten's mother gave this man a lock of her hair for you to find the letter with your wand, maybe you could find her with your wand too?"

That's actually a good idea, and it is actually the first time you saw him so serious about something he does not really know anything about, just what he heard today. "And how am I supposed to do that? My mother is not hiding in the castle for all I know!"

"You could wait for the school break, but your father is not going to let you leave the house." you mutter and he nods. You know his father, and he is weirdly protective over his son. There is the regular protective parents, like yours, and then you have Ten's father, and his step-mother. They are protective to the point where it becomes weird, and a tad unhealthy.

"Leave while we are in Hogsmeade this weekend?" Yangyang asks, and you both shake your heads. "Ten's father didn’t sign the papers for him to go to Hogsmeade." the younger wizard gasps, a hand on his mouth.

"What? Why? Man, your father is weird."

"Maybe because he is not my biological father." he has a point.

"Get expelled, like that you can go and look for your mother, or for this guy. Maybe he has another lock of hair, and is waiting for you, who knows!" Ten puts his head in between his hands, and he sighs.

"How the fuck am I supposed to get expelled from Hogwarts of all places?"

"That's not hard, I can help you with that." Yangyang puffs up his chest with pride, and Ten laughs softly. At least he looks like he is relaxing. "No, but for real, the headmistress threatened to kick me out so many times since I arrived in Hogwarts, I'm pretty sure I can help you with that."

"You better not get in trouble because of that. You can't get kicked out, or I'm kicking your ass, alright?" Ten asks, and of course, Yangyang nods. The smile on his face is so bright that you can't help but to smile too. "And you," Ten starts, looking at you. "you are not doing anything stupid, before, or after I'm gone, alright? I can't lose my place in this school, and you."

You laugh, head thrown back. "Bold of you to assume I'm not coming with you."

"You are not coming with me, and that's final!" Ten exclaims as he pushes the door to the great hall open and you heave yet another sigh.

"I do not remember asking for your opinion. I am your best friend, of course I'm coming with you!" you sit down around the table, and Ten takes the spot in front of you. You are far away from the other students to be able to talk freely.

"This is my mother, Y/n, I have to do it alone." you pick an apple, and you shrug.

"I know that, Ten, but you can't do it alone. You will eventually need help. And what are you going to do if you can't find anything? You'll need me to figure things out, so I am coming, and you can't say no."

"A portable swamp!"

Yangyang puts a device on the table, and you jump because you were not expecting anyone to be behind you. "What is that?" Ten asks, at the same time as you. "Where did you get that?" Yangyang flops down on the bench, and there is so much mischief in his eyes that you fear for his answer.

"I bought it in Diagon Alley before the year started, but I never came around to use it, so I thought it would be useful for your little situation." he explains briefly, and you take it in your hand with caution, you do not want to set it up in the middle of the great hall.

"What does it do?"

"Like the name says, it is a portable swamp! Activate it, and it creates a swamp." you don’t even bother asking why he thought it could be a good idea to buy this kind of stuff. You are not even sure it is legal for him to have it here. "Do it in a classroom! I heard it is impossible to clean with magic, so it'll take a while to clean out."

"Do I dare to ask what you were planning on doing with this?" Ten asks, narrowing his eyes and the young wizard shrugs.

"I didn’t have a precise plan, I just thought it could be a good idea to use during class, or to make the library impossible to access for a while. Maybe destroy a couple of my books inside."

"We can try it out." Ten says, and Yangyang is beaming, even though he will not be able to see the damage of his little toy, but it is alright, he knows he'll hear about it.

"If it works well, you can just buy another one next time you'll go to Diagon Alley, you know." so he is talking about a payment, and honestly, that's only fair.

"Will do kid, thank you."

Two hours later, you find yourself in the potions' room, sitting in front of Ten. "Are we really doing this?" you ask Ten above the fumes coming out of the cauldron.

"I guess so?" he is not sure this is worth it, but he has nothing to lose trying. Well, he does have something to lose, his place here at Hogwarts.

"Did Yangyang explain how to use it?"

Ten shakes his head, that's what you thought. So he just drops it to the floor, under the table, and when nothing happens, he kicks it hard enough for the devide to activate. "Oh, shit!" the result is immediate. The floor is flooded with dark and dirty water, mud, grass, and some nasty-looking objects and dead animals. You put your feet on the stool to avoid stepping on it.

"What's that smell?" someone asks, and yes, it does smell strong. It smells like a fucking swamp, and you feel bile going up your throat. Ten is no better, he pinches his nose with his fingers and his eyes are filled with tears. This is absolutely disgusting.

"What happened?" the professor asks when he notices that he is wading in dirty water.

"Uh, I don't know, I think something went wrong with our potion." Ten says sheepishly and you look around. Most of the Slytherin are on the tables, making disgusted noise, but they do not have the reaction you thought they would have, even the teacher seems relaxed.

"I asked for a wound-cleaning potion, not a swamp."

You share a look of disbelief at the reaction. This is not how you are going to get expelled, you think as the professor helps the students out of the classroom one after the other. "It's fine, don’t worry, I'll clean it, I have mastered the spell to clean a swamp. You can all thank mister Lee, because class is over." a few Slytherins pat his back on their way out of the hallway, and he whines high in his throat when you are alone.

"That was a fail. Yangyang is going to be disappointed, we wasted his toy for nothing." you can't get rid of the smell of the swamp, and it look like it clinges to your clothes and you hate it. "I need a shower, I feel dirty, and I'm pretty sure worms are in my shoes." he grimaces at the thought, but he starts to squirm.

"Shut up, I can feel them now!"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you ask when you step out of the girls' bathroom. Ten is on the floor, back against the wall, and he looks rather annoyed.

"What took you so long? I've been here for thirty minutes!" he stands up, dusting his robe.

"It took me forever to stop smelling that stupid swamp."

"I saw Yangyang, he is disappointed that his toy did not work, or at least did not create chaos like he was expecting, so he is looking for another idea." you fear what he might come up with.

"Do you have an idea on what to do next?"

"He did propose something," Ten starts and you follow him. "he said we should make out after curfew in the quidditch field." you heave a long sigh, why were you expecting a real idea from Yangyang, but he is not wrong. Being outside of the castle after curfew is wrong, and making out with someone when it is forbidden? That could work to give you detention, not to get you expelled.

"That's not extra enough, our asses are just going to stay in detention for the weekend." you mumble, and he agrees but then he turns his head to watch you.

"But you are not saying no to make out with me in the quidditch field?" you push him hard enough for his shoulder to hit the wall and he scowls. "What was that for?"

"I rather drink some of the swamp water than kiss your dirty snake mouth." you answer and he rolls his eyes, but he is smirking like the little shit he is.

"Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night I guess."

Alright, you are not blind, you know Ten is gorgeous and that he has beautiful lips that would be nice to kiss, but still, he is your best friend, and you do not spend hours thinking about how it would feel to kiss him, to run your fingers through his hair. No. Never happened, and will never happen.

"So, what are we doing?"

Getting expelled sounded so easy when Yangyang mentioned it, but now that you are actually trying, it is way harder. Because the professors know you, they know you are not the kind to get in trouble, or to do weird shit, so they always try to find an excuse for your behavior, and each time, you try something else, you slip through the cracks.

A month passed by, and nothing happened.

Ten found a few more letters between his mother and his biological father, but nothing else. He did find a ribbon once, a green one, like the ones she liked to wear in her hair when he was young, but it could have belonged to anyone in the school, but he kept it around his wrist just in case. Even if it is not hers, it gives him something that is not paper to feel closer to his mother.

"We can't go on like this forever." you say, and Ten agrees. It is tiring to come up with plans, and even Yangyang looks even more defeated each day. The poor boy spends more time thinking about ways for you to get expelled than he spends on his own homework, not that he minds, but you do, you do not want him to ruin his year because of you.

"I brought some backup!" Yangyang says, and this time he is not alone, he is with his friends. Haechan, another Slytherin, and Hendery, a Gryffindor.

"Where is Dejun?" you ask, it is rare to see Yangyang without his third friend, and yet.

"He is studying, and he wants nothing to do with what we are doing."

"And you do?" Ten asks Hendery. If Haechan was on board to help them, because he is a sneaky Slytherin, he was not expecting a Gryffindor to help them. Even if friendship is possible between the two houses, there are still some tension remaining between them. And Gryffindors are not the kind to get into trouble, especially for Slytherins.

"Yeah, I'm bored."

"This time, you are sure to get expelled." Yangyang starts to say, in a low voice. He doesn’t want the students around to hear him and if they are outside.

"Then speak, idiot!" Ten exclaims, and you did notice how quick he is to lose his temper lately, but you don’t say anything, you would do the same if you were in a similar situation.

"Calm down, little snake, I'm going to." Ten is close to punch him, you see it, so you grab his hand in yours, and squeeze it gently. "Ten, you'll have to hurt Y/n." you both open your eyes wide, shaking your head.

"What?"

"Hear me out. You don’t have to hurt her badly, just throw a little spell that will send her to the infirmary. You will be expelled right away because it is forbidden to attack another student. But before, you will have to pretend to fight, or the headmistress is not going to believe any of it."

"Yeah, and I'll be stuck in the infirmary while Ten will be outside, that's not what we want." yes, because after some time, Ten accepted that you were coming with him no matter if he wants it or not.

"Yes, but that's when we come. We'll make the infirmary impossible to be used, so they'll have no choice but to send you to St Mungo's because even if it's an innocent spell, they have to get you checked out by a doctor."

"Ten will be back in London in no time, he'll leave his home at night, and he'll go to St Mungo. Of course, he won't be inside, because he'll be suspicious, but you, Y/n, will have to leave during the night to join him, without being caught, and then, you'll be free to go look for your mother."

"That's a good plan." you concede, and Yangyang nods.

"We thought about it for a very long time, and with how much the professors love you both, it is honestly the only way for you to get expelled." you turn to face Ten, and he nods.

"Let's do it, I guess."

The boys high five, and you roll your eyes. "We have to fight now." that's not going to be hard, as you love to bicker for fun, it'll be easily believable. "And you have to help us out," you say to the three boys. "be there when we fight, try to calm things down, try to keep up from jumping at each other's throats, act like we constantly fight even in the common room."

Haechan smiles. "That we can do, trust us."

Ten and you never had any kind of fight, you do bicker but that's about it, but you are surprised to see how easy it is for the both of you to actually fight. Even if it is not real, it comes easy, and it is actually scary.

"You are such a fucking bitch!" Ten yells, and he feels all of the students' eyes on him as soon as he closes his mouth. "You thought I would not find out that you've been playing with me this whole time?" Ten scoffs, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek so as not to laugh.

"I mean, you are kind of slow when it comes to things like that, so yes, that's what I thought." you answer, and you see the way he squeezes his fists. "It was so easy to make you believe everything, that I wonder if you did it on purpose or not."

You lock eyes with Yangyang on the side, and his cheeks are bright red because he is trying so hard not to laugh either. And also because he tries to find a sense of what is happening, and the truth is, you did not rehearse the argument, so there is no sense at all.

"Are you calling me dumb?" Ten asks, and you nod, smiling softly.

"If you have to ask that, then what I'm saying is right!" you throw your head back, and you laugh, which seems to be enough for Ten who takes a few steps forwards.

"You'll see what the dumb wizard is going to do to you!"

That was the less treatening sentence you have ever heard, and yet, Yangyang and Hendery are the firsts to stand up and to block Ten. "What are you doing? Move!" Ten yells, and Yangyang has to make it believable, so he takes a step back, raising his hands.

"Eh, I don't want to do anything, but you do not want to fight with her, come on, that's stupid."

"Stupid, that's also a word that would work well to describe Ten." You say to Hendery who is facing you, you are acting like Ten is not here, can't hear you, and it is almost amusing. You hear a few "ohhh" around, and you know it's coming from your fellow Slytherin.

"I'm going to fucking punch you if you keep talking, you bitch!"

"Go ahead, I can't wait." you answer, and you see him looking inside of his robe, and when he takes his wand out, the laughs stop immediately. "Oh, what are you going to do? Jinx me? Can you even do that?" he raises his wand, but someone stands up, and gets in between the two of you.

Yuta, another Slytherin, faces Ten with a frown. "Come on big boy, you don't want to get in trouble, over a stupid fight with your best friend, don't you?" alright, Ten is ready to do a lot to get expelled, but he does not want to have his ass beaten by someone like Yuta.

"She fucking deserves it!"

"Maybe she does, maybe she does not, who knows. Come on, put that wand down and go take a breather outside." Ten heaves a long sidh, and he puts his wand back into his robe before turning on his heels to leave the great hall.

"Go on, coward!" you say in a loud voice to be sure he hears you even outside of the room.

"Coward, for real?" Yuta asks when he turns to look at you, head cocked to the side.

"I'm just saying the truth, don't blame me." you mumble, and when all of the students start going back to their occupations, you leave the great hall too.

"Don't go bother him right now, I can't protect you everywhere." Yuta says, and you nod.

You are sitting in front of the fireplace when you hear footsteps behind you. "That was a mess." Ten says as he drops down next to you and you chuckle.

"Yeah, maybe we should have rehearsed before or something, because I don't think anyone believed in our little dispute."

"The less sense it makes, the more believable it becomes." he answers, and you roll your eyes, and he puts his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. "This is tiring." his voice breaks your heart, and you understand even though it must be even more tiring for him. The letters and his mother always on his mind.

"I know it is, but it'll be worth it in the end." you say in a small voice, and the young man straightens up.

"You don't know that, maybe it won't be worth it. What if I don't find her, or my biological father, then it'll be a waste of time, and nothing else." you shake your head, turning to face him.

"We are going to find something, I promise you. We are going to find answers, and we will make everything we did worth it. And then I'll help you come back to school, finish the year and succeed on your exams. I'm here, no matter what happens, we are in this together."

"Do you promise?" he asks, and you tilt your head, confused. "Do you promise to still be there, no matter what happens?" this is the first time you've ever seen him so vulnerable, and it hurts. But it also shows that he trusts you enough to show a side of himself that you did not know existed.

"I promise you, Ten. It's you and me against everyone else."

He does not know why he opens his mouth, and he asks. “Can I kiss you?” when you nod, he leans over and he puts his lips against yours. He did not think before asking, he just felt like it, like he needed it. He half expects you to push him away and laugh at him, but instead, you put your hands on his cheeks, and you kiss him back.

The kiss is gentle, and soft, nothing is rushed and it feels right.

Today is the day.

You and Ten spent the last two weeks constantly fighting. Some fights looked harmless, some looked more dangerous. Every time, a student had to stand in between to keep you from destroying each other. Threats were being throws each time, every time a little bit more serious threats, and jinxes close to being thrown too.

When you are walking around the school, you ignore each other, you throw each other glances that could kill and curse at each other during classes. It is now impossible for anyone to not believe that something is actually going on.

Which means, it is the perfect time to act on your plan.

"Did you think of a spell?" Yangyang asks, trying to keep up with Ten's fast walk.

"Yes, I even practiced to be sure I won't be making a fool of myself. What about the infirmary?" Yangyang's walk is light, and he looks so excited to finally put one of his many tricks into action.

"Do not worry, it'll only take a couple of minutes to make it impossible to enter. But for that, I need you to tell me how long it'll take you to attack her, so we can do it while the nurse is gone."

"I don't know Yangyang, a couple of minutes? Why don't you stay with us, and when I attack her, you can be the one running to get the nurse so you don't have to worry about the timeframe to mess up the room?"

Yangyang's smile is even brighter now. "That's a good idea!"

When he enters the great hall, he is scared. His hands are sweating, and shaking to the point where he wonders if he will be able to use his wand the right way. What if he messes up and send the spell on another student? What if he actually hurts you more than what was intented?

"Wait, wait, wait." he grabs Yangyang's hand, and the boy gasps when he is pulled away from the great hall. "I can't do it. I can't hurt her. What if it goes wrong?"

Yangyang sighs, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It'll not go wrong, and you are not going to hurt her. You like her too much to hurt her, even if you think you are going to mess it up, your heart is not going to let you do it."

"I'm blaming you if something bad happens." he mumbles as he goes back inside the great hall. You stood up when you saw them enter, and you started to wonder if the plan was cancelled when Ten rushed out of the room, but when he comes back, he looks more determined which is pretty scary.

"You bitch, I know you took it!" he suddenly yells, and you try to look annoyed. And you could be if you were really fighting, because his voice can be a tad annoying when he is yelling.

"What are you on about?" he takes a few steps forwards, and you stay still. You are starting to hate the attention the other students are giving you each time to pretend to fight, but you know it is what is needed if you want the headmistress to kick Ten out.

"You know what I'm talking about! You came into my room and you took it! You fucking thief!" you laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Oh, are you talking about that little love letter you got the other day? Are you sad that you don't have it? You can't fall asleep without reading the lies written inside? Poor little wizard."

"That's it, I'm so fucking done with your bullshit." he takes out his wand, and you take yours. You have no idea what is going to hit you, and in a way, you are grateful for that, because if you knew, you would have chickened out or tried to avoid it.

"What are you going to do? You can't even use spells properly in class, and you want to do it here, in front of everyone? Over a fucking love letter? That is pathetic, even from you."

"Flagrante!" he says, and the spell hits you right in the chest. Because of the speed of the spell, you did not have time to think about what the spell was, or what it was going to cause, but you understand pretty quickly.

The wand in your hand starts to burn to the point where you have to drop it to the ground, a sob leaving your lips. "It burns!" you have the imprint of the wand on the palm of your hand, and even thought the wand is on the ground, it keeps fucking burning. Putting your hand in the fireplace would probably feel the same.

But it does not stop here, everything starts to burn. Your clothes feels like they are on fire, and you drop to the ground, peeling your robe off. "Go get the nurse!" someone yells, and of course, Yangyang runs at full speed towards the infirmary.

Ten hates the scene that plays in front of his eyes, he wants to help, but when he tries to take a step towards you, someone stops him. "You are not going anywhere, you have done enough damages!" the voice says through clenched teeth. Yuta. Again.

From where he is standing, he sees tears rolling down your cheeks, and he wishes he never had done this. He could have picked another spell, something better that would have caused a lot less harm. He could have used something to make you fall, or something, but no, he was dumb and picked a fucking burning spell.

A couple of people help you, but you squrim so much on the ground that it is almost impossible for them to ease the pain. But fortunately enough, the nurse arrives and she finds a way to stop the curse to burn you further. "Bring him to the headmistress, this is unacceptable!" she says as she gets out of the great hall with you.

Of course, it is a pleasure for Yuta to force Ten out of the great hall and to the headmistress"s office, and you are sad you will not be able to see what is going on. But that would be useless, and you can't seem to think about anything else than the heat radiating from your body. The burning sensation is mostly gone, and the nurse tries to reassure you, saying you will not have any burn marks, which is good.

But she stops in the middle of her sentence when she sees the door to the infirmary laying on the ground. "On Merlin's beard!" when you look up, your breath hitches in your throat. The room is a mess. The beds are thrown out, the mattresses are ripped open and the floor is filled with...with frogs?

"I can't do my work in these conditions!" she exclaims, helping you against the wall to see if anything can be done, but when she tries to step inside, an invisible barrier keeps her from entering. "That is not good. I can clean, but I can't force a protective barrier. If I catch the rascals who did that!"

"Alright, you still need to be checked out by a doctor, so I'm going to send you to St Mungo, alright?" you do nothing but nod, it is not like you have a say in this. "Come on, just a few more steps and it'll be all over."

You do not know how, but when you open your eyes, you are in a bed, in a white room. You are in St Mungo's hospital. You do not remember how you got here, and when you turn your head, you are surprised to find the nurse sitting on a chair, close to your bed.

"Y/n, welcome back. You passed out, and been asleep for over three hours." you straighten up but wince at the pain. It's not a sharp pain, not even a burning one, but it is uncomfortable, your skin feels tight and still warm to the touch, like a really bad sunburn.

"What happened?" you ask, feigning igorance, and the nurse stands up after checking her watch.

"Mister Lee attacked you with the flagrante spell, which causes objects to burn. Your wand, and your clothes too." you hum, rubbing your eyes with the palm of your hands.

"What happened to him?" she heaves a long sigh.

"I went back to the school while you were asleep, and the headmistress told me she had no choice but to expel him. What he did was wrong, and he could have hurt a lot more people around." you frown.

"Is he going to get in trouble?" she shakes her head, taking her cape from the back of the chair.

"The headmistress knows it is bad to use magic outside of class, especially to attack another student, but she decided to only expel him. It's enough of a punishement."

You try not to look too relaxed, because for a second, you thought he would get in trouble with the ministry of magic or something. "You should rest. The doctor will check on you in the morning, and if you feel better, they'll send you back to Hogwarts. Come see me when you are back, I'll give you something if the pain remains." you nod, and you look the nurse as she leaves the bedroom.

Now, you wait.

When you open your eyes, it is still dark outside, and for a second, you wonder why you woke up. But then, you find the source of the sound coming to your ears.

You turn your head, and you see a paper bird tapping against the glass with its paper snout so you stand up, trying to ignore the soreness in your legs and you walk to the window. You open it as much as you can, and you lean over the edge and smile when you see Ten.

He is not wearing his uniform, but casual clothes, and he looks rather pretty without so much green. He even wears glasses. He can blend in with the crowd without any problem, you think. "I'm coming." you say, and he nods. Fortunately, you are only on the second floor, which means you do not have to yell to be heard, and you do not need to attract the attention of the night nurses.

You uniform is neatly placed on the back of a chair, but you know you will get caught if you wear it outside. You have to find something. You grab the white shirt that you pull over the weird gown you are wearing, and you open the door to look around. The hallway is dark and silent, but you can hear hushed conversation further away.

You take a deep breath, and you get out of the room to walk through the hallway. The tiles are cold under your feet, and you feel a shiver goes up your spine, which only makes the slight pain worse. "Bingo!" you whisper-yell when you find the resting room. Maybe you can find something there.

The door is obviously open, and you stop dead in your tracks when you hear the regular breathing of a sleeping nurse. There is enough light coming in the room for you to see your surroundings, and a bag laying near the bed. You do not have your wand, so you have no choice than to step inside, and tip-toe your way to the bag.

You crouch down, and you open the zipper, tooth after tooth, to make the less noise possible. When it is open, you listen but the nurse is still soundly sleeping. You only need a pants, and you find a pair of sweatpant. You stand up, get rid of the shirt and the gown, and put the clothes back on, leaving the gown inside the bad that you leave open.

Before leaving the room, you grab your pair of shoes that you left by the door, it is ridiculous, but it's better than nothing. All you need right now is to join Ten. And maybe punch him, you have not decided yet.

You don’t know if it's luck, or someone watching over you, but you don’t meet anyone on your way to the hospital's sliding doors. It opens in front of you, and soon enough, you find yourself outside and you almost want to cry when you feel the cold wind against your heated cheeks.

"Y/n!"

You turn and you see him, you see Ten and you walk to him. Before he can open his mouth, you hit his chest multiple times. "What the fuck was that spell? It hurts so bad!" you say, but your voice is way softer than the punches.

"I know, I'm sorry, I didn't think the spell would attack your clothes too, I wouldn't have done it otherwise!"

"I don't like you very much right now, but I have to ask, how did it go with your father?"

Ten pouts, and he grabs your hand to hide behind the building when he hears voices, they can't stay here for too long because they'll go and look for you as soon as they'll notice you are gone. "He is travelling, so my step-mother came. She promised to not tell him before he came back."

"Does she know you left?" he shakes his head, lacing his fingers with yours when you do not do anything to free yourself.

"No, I left as soon as she fell asleep." you hum, yeah, if he can't trust his father, who knows if he should trust his step-mother, she could be involved with his mother's disappearance for all they know.

"We should get going before someone catches us." he finally says, and you nod. You don’t know where you are going but you follow him, you trust him. At least you think you do.

"Do you have an idea of where we are supposed to go?" you ask, and he stops when you are far enough from St Mungo's.

"One of the letters for my biological father had an address on the envelope. The address was illegible, but it was in London." you scoff, and he looks away, the shadow of a smile on his face. "London has what, 9 million inhabitants? Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake!"

"Don't be like that, at least we know where to look for, and we won't have to apparate." that's true, because you are not experienced enough, and you do not feel like losing a limb. "Do you have your wand with you?" he takes the wand out of the back pocket of his pants.

"Of course, and oh, I got yours from the headmistress office before leaving." he takes the wand out of the other pocket, and you take it.

"You are the best, thank you."

"I know, I know." you nudge him, and he waits for the wand to reacts, but nothing happens.

"It's tired to having to lead you around." you mumbles, and he sighs.

"I've been using it too much, or my mother is not around."

"Tell you what, until we find something concrete, we are going to think positively! Negativity is not going to lead us anywhere." he says something but a car passes and it is impossible for you to hear him, but it must not be important or he would have said it again. "Let's try to walk."

And that's how you find yourself walking around London at 4 in the morning. It is not bad, you think. You have never been in London so late with no one around, not a soul, and not a sound. It is weird, but it's also kind of pleasant.

"How are you feeling?" Ten asks after an hour long of comfortable silence between.

"Tired, hungry, cold." you answer and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I guessed as much, let's stop for a minute." he finds a bench down the street, and you sit down, covering your mouth when you yawn.

Ten take his backpack off, and he takes off a bunch of snacks that he puts on the bench in between them. "I thought about it! I also took some money from my father, so we'll buy some stuff tomorrow when the stores open." what's good about being in London, is that there is no way an amber alert will be broadcasted for either of them, because they'll have to explain that one left an hospital the muggles do not know about, and that the other one left after being expelled from some weird boarding school they never heard of.

You hope so at least.

Even though you should get going before the sun rises, you both need a break. To let your bodies rest, as much as your minds. Because even if you are thinking about Ten's mother, you are also thinking about the consequences of your acts even if you do not voice it. You can't help but to think of the disappointment your parents are going to feel when they learn about everything.

But like you said a few weeks ago, it's Ten and you against everyone else. You promised to be there, and you will keep your promise, no matter what happens. You will become an hermit if your parents decide to disown you.

"People are coming our way, we should get going." you hear Ten whispers close to your ear, and you nod. You stand up, and you help Ten puts everything back in his backpack, and he lets a little scream when he feels the wand move in his hand. "Yes, finally!"

"We must be close." you start walking again, and this time, you don't walk aimlessly, you are leaded somewhere. Hopefully not into a trap, because that would suck.

"If we only find your biological father, do you know what you are going to tell him?"

Ten remains silent for a while, probably thinking about it. "I don't really know, I guess I'll introduce myself, and ask him to tell me everything. Not finding my mother is one thing, but I at least deserve to know the truth. I need to know if I can trust my father or not."

"And what if you can't?"

"I have no idea. It was always my father, my mother and I. I never met any family member, and my grandparents passed away before I was even born, on both sides, so I guess I'll just have to figure out what to do when it happens."

You hum. "You know I'm not leaving you alone after, right? We'll figure things out together."

"Thank you." Ten says softly, and you shake your head, taking his hand in yours.

"You do not have to thank me, that's what friends are for." he stops.

"No, friends don't let themselves be burnt because they want to help someone. Friends help as much as they can, they do not take the risk to see their lives being ruined. You are different."

You do not think you are any different, but if Ten says you are, then you are not going to tell him otherwise. "I want the best for you, that's it." he smiles softly, and you don’t remember the last time you saw him smile so genuinely and it warms your heart. "You have a lifetime to tell me how perfect I am, but now, we have a mission!"

He rolls his eyes, and he starts walking again.

The sun is already high in the sky when the wand stops pulling him into the unknown. "Tired again?" Ten wonders, and you shrug, finally letting go of his hand to look around. You are in a suburb, all of the houses look the same, and an old lady is walking her dog, looking at you suspiciously.

You must be quite the sight.

You, with your white shirt and a pants you stole from her nurse and the face of someone who did not sleep for a week, and Ten who keeps threading his fingers in his hair out of frustration, dark bags under his eyes and a wooden stick in his hand. "Or maybe it's here. Maybe one of these houses belong to one of them."

"Wait here." you say, and you cross the road to the old lady who stops in her track, grabbing her small dog in her arms.

"I don't have anything on me." she says in defense, and you shake your head.

"I am so sorry to bother you, but do you live in this area?" the old lady hesitate but she nods. "Do you happen to know if someone named Lee lives around? A lady in her forties, probably very beautiful, black hair."

Ten told you that when he was born, he took his mother's last name, not his father, and it could be of help right now. The old lady thinks about it. "There is a woman in her forties here with her children and husband, but I am not sure her name is Lee." you hum, maybe it is her, maybe it is not.

"Could you show me which house it is? It would help us greatly."

"Can I ask you why? I don't want to give you her house for you to go and break-in or do something bad!" you shake your head with vigor.

"Do you see my friend over there? We believe this is where his mother lives, unfortunately, his father did not give us a lot of informations, we are just following hints without being sure we are on the right track."

"I see. This is the third house after the one your friend is standing in front. If you do something out of the ordinary, I will remember your faces when the police comes." fair enough.

"Thank you so much, and promise, no funny business."

You run back to Ten who looks at you expectantly. "Come on." you grab his hand and you lead him to the right house. You stop in front of the door, and you turn to face him. "So, I am not sure this is the house, as I only gave the lady what I knew about your mother, but she said it might be here." before Ten can open his mouth, you raise your hand to stop him. "Don't get your hopes up, it might not be the right place, maybe the wand is just tired."

"Let's do it." Ten stands back from the door, so you doubt anyone opening the door would see him. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see how much his hands are shaking, he is so close to his goal. You take a deep breath, and you knock.

You take a small step back when a dog barks on the other side of the door, and you put a hand on your heart, you were not expecting it. You hear rustling and you hear the lock before the door opens. You choke on your saliva when you meet the woman's eyes. It's like looking at Ten, but older, with long hair and more feminine features.

"Oh my, are you all right darling?" she asks, worried about a complete stranger on the step of her door.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry. This might sound weird, but are you miss Lee?" the lady's eyes open wide, and it looks like she has not heard this name in years.

"Yes, it's me. Who are you?"

"I'm-" what are you supposed to say, especially with Ten not moving a limb to show himself. He is frozen in place, and you can't really blame him. "I'm a friend of your son, Ten." Ten's mother puts a hand over her mouth to muffle a sob, and you honestly want to burry yourself in the ground. Not that you are uncomfortable with burst of emotions, it's just that you do not know what to do.

"We, we found a letter in Hogwarts, and then another one with a lock of your hair. And one thing leading to another, we decided to look for you." you explain, as slowly as you can, and the lady straightens up.

"We?" she asks, and you look to the side, and prompts Ten to move before you force him out of his spot.

"Hey mom." Ten says, now standing beside you.

Ten's mother is quick to pull him against her chest, and he wraps his arms around her. They don't say anything, they just hug and for a second, you wonder if you should turn around. It feels like you are intruding on something that should be private.

"My boy, my sweet boy." she whispers, hands on Ten's cheeks. His cheeks are shining with tears, same as her and you feel relief crash onto you to the point where you could fall to the ground and cry too. Not because you are happy, but because you are exhausted, and that it is finally over.

"Come on in!" she pushes herself from the door, pushing the dog at the same time and she leads you to the living room. There are pictures on the walls, of her, of a man Ten does not recognize, and two children. Ten stops when he sees a photo of him and his mother when he was barely 5 years old.

"You kept them?" he asks.

"Of course! I could never gave gotten rid of the photos, they were the last things I had to remind me of you." you sit down on the sofa and it takes you everything not to close your eyes and let yourself be lulled to sleep. You want to hear the story, you want to know more, then you'll let yourself fall unconscious.

"You must have a lot of questions." she says when she comes back with three cups of tea, and Ten nods. You thank her, letting the warmth of the cup invade your hands.

"But I have one important question, is dad my biological father?"

She shakes her head, yes, he guessed as much. "He is not, and if you read the letters, you probably already knew." Ten stays silent, it is not a surprise to him, but now, he needs to know more.

"When I met your father for the first time, it was through my family. At first, I did not think anything of it, but I quickly understood why they made me become acquainted with him. My family, and his had this sort of pact where they had to marry their first borns."

"So, I had no choice than to accept it, but at that time, I had a boyfriend, we were planning on getting married, but then it happened and I had no choice than to break up with him." Ten frowns, as he sips on his tea. "We found each other again a few years later after the wedding, and I got pregnant."

"Of course, everyone thought it was from your father, but it was not. I had a weak moment when we reunited with your biological father, and you happened. I thought your father would be stupid enough to accept you as his, but he caught one of the letters one day, and oh, all hell broke loose."

"He made it his personal mission to make my life a living hell, that's when I told your biological father that if I ever missed a letter, it was because he did something. But he would not have done it before you were born, because blood is important, and he needed an heir, no matter if it was his blood running in their veins or not."

"After you were born, I did not have time to write, or to read letters, so he thought I had forgotten about him, and stopped trying to contact me, so your father thought I had broken things up and were ready to start being an actual family, that's why I stayed with you most of your childhood."

"And then, as you must have guessed, he found out he was wrong, and threatened me. I had no choice than to leave while he was at work."

Ten shakes his head. "Why didn't you take me?" she sighs, looking at Ten.

"I didn’t have enough time. He would have found us, and merlin knows what he would have done to me, or worse, to you. He did not want or need a wife, but he needed an heir."

"I tried to contact you, but when I received no answer, I understood that your father caught the letters before you did. Then I learned he got remarried, and moved to London. I assumed you transfered to Hogwarts, so that's when I decided to send the letters."

"I could not send them through the regular mail as I was scared your mail would be checked by someone else before being delivered, so I sent them via a magic portal."

Ten would not be surprised to have his mail being checked by someone paid by his father, or by his father himself. As he explained earlier, his father is overprotective, and now, he understand why. He did not want him to find his mother, to know the truth. He wanted Ten to keep believing that she just decided to abandon them.

"It was not my idea at first, but my husband's. He saw how sad I was and he actually found the spell to send the first letter. When he told me about it, I decided to keep going. In a way, that's maybe why I kept all of the letters, and he kept his. Memories, yes, but to find you when the time was right."

"Even though I thought you would wait for the school break to start looking for me." she says, a tad disappointed, and Ten lowers his head, ashamed.

"I knew dad would never let me leave, so I had to act. Maybe it was not a good idea, because I had to get expelled, and she probably will be too, but I didn't have much of a choice. I needed answers."

"How did you leave the castle if you were not expelled?" she asks, looking at you and you do not feel like answer, but Ten does before you.

"I used a spell that would send her to the infirmary, asked friends to make the infirmary useless so she would be sent to St Mungo's, and she left in the middle of the night."

His mother chuckles, but she is also astonished. "You did all that, just to find me?" her voice is small, and vulnerable, and it is like listening to Ten that night, in front of the fireplace, the night you kissed for the first, and last time.

"Of course! I would have done worst if it meant I could find you, or at least finally have answers."

The front door opens in a creak, and you turn your head towards the sound. The woman stands up, and she smiles sweetly before disappearing in the hallway. "Is she how you remember?" you ask Ten in a whisper, and the young man nods.

"Everything is like I remember. Her face, her voice, her smile." you can hear so many emotions in his voice that you have to keep yourself from hugging him.

"Ten, I have someone to introduce you." Ten stands up when a man enters the living room, he is a stranger to him, and yet, he feels something deep within him. "This is Jun, your biological father."

"I am happy to finally meet you, Ten." the man says, and his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

You finally stand up, and you put your hand on Ten's shoulder, whisper into his ear. "You have a lot to catch up on, I'll be outside." he is ready to say no, but you shake your head, they need some alone time together, together, as a family. Or what you hope will become a real family in the future.

"I am listening, what do you have to say?"

The headmistress is short, and rather petite, but she is intimidating. You sink deeper into your seat, and you notice that Ten does the same. "Do you have any idea how scared we were when the nurse did not find you in your bed in the morning?" she asks before you have time to think about what to say. "And you, we received a letter from your step-mother when she could not find you in the morning either. She thought you came back here."

Ten looks over his shoulder, and his mother smiles at him with a nod of her head. It is because of her if you are both here, ready to plead for the school to take you back. Your parents are there too, but you are too scared to look at them, even though you know you won't see anger in their eyes, but rather disappointment. They were scared, that's all.

"First of all, I would like to say that Y/n had nothing to do with this. She wanted to be a good friend, and decided to follow me. I should be the one being blamed, not her." you turn your had, but he does not let you the time to speak. "My mother tried to find me for years, and she finally succeeded this time, without my father being in the way. She wanted me to find her during the school break, but my impatience had the better of me."

"The fights were fake, we just needed a way to be expelled, so we could look for her. Even though I have to admit, the spell I threw was beyond unacceptable, I should have known better, and I will apologize as much as needed for Y/n to forgive me. I understand that what I did is unforgivable, and that I deserve to be expelled, if not for the fight, but for leading Y/n into this."

"You do not have to take me back, it's okay, but you have to take her back. She did not ask for anything, all she did was becoming my friend and now that I think about it, it was a really bad idea to accept her proposition. She wanted to help, and I was desperate." he closes his mouth, and the headmistress hums.

"I would like to say that I left from my own will, Ten did not force me. I made the decision to leave St Mungo's and I should be punished too."

Ten sighs, he doesn’t want you to pay the consequences of his actions but he is not surprised, like you said, you are in this together.

"May I speak?" Ten's mother asks, and the headmistress agrees.

“I am to blamed too. I should have waited for the school year to end to send the letters, I should have found a better way to do it, because my Ten always acted a little reckless even when he was a child, so I should have known he would be looking for me before the school ends. I was desperate to find him, as much as he was to find me to answer the tons of questions he had since he was young.”

The conversation goes on for another hour, and the headmistress dismisses you and Ten in the hallway. She needs to think about it. She, on the other hand, asked the parents to stay in her office.

"What do you think is going to happen?" you ask Ten, sliding down the wall and he shrugs.

"I don't know, but whathever happens, I want you to know that I'll be forever grateful for what you did. I could never have asked for a better person by my side to find my mother." he sits down next to you, and you put your head on his shoulder.

"It was my pleasure."

He kisses your forehead, and you close your eyes. Once again, you have to wait.

And when the door opens on your parents, you stand up, and you are quick to find Ten's hand to squeeze it gently. "So?" he asks, looking at his mother.

"It was hard, but she decided to give you two a second chance. You will have to stay in detention every night until the end of the school year, but you can come back to class tomorrow."

You break into a smile when your parents smile, that's what you needed. You never thought you would be so happy to learn that you will have to go back to class, but here you are.

"Thank you, Y/n, for everything you did for my sweet boy. I owe you a big one." Ten's smile is so bright that you have to look away, but when he takes a step towards you, you have no choice to meet his gaze.

"Thank you." he whispers, cupping your face and he lins in to kiss you sweetly.

It is a simple kiss, but it holds so much. So much words that you probably will never able to say out loud even though you are dying to. Words that could never be strong enough to be said. But it is enough for you, for Ten. It is way more than what you both thought you could ever have. So you kiss him again, and again, ignoring the world around you.

"I love you" you try to say each time your lips press against his.

"I love you too." Ten answers each time he kisses you back.

#nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #ten imagines #ten scenarios

62 notes · View notes

feetoffire · 3 years ago

Text

Captain Christopher Pike, the rec list

I had this almost finished and ready to post, and then the kitten wiped everything, so here it is, a gazillion years later than I wanted. Yay.

Ongoing - the fic is complete, but not all chapters are posted

WIP - fic isn’t finished

Incomplete - last-updated-more-than-a-year-ago WIPs

recs under the cut; spoilers abound

AOS

Gen

Pike’s Office by AnxiouslyGoing. Poor Jim has a Tarsus related panic attack, and ends up sleeping in Pike’s office/on Pike’s lap. Academy Era, bonus appearance by Spock, dad!Pike. 2k oneshot.

Another Life by LullabyKnell. Time travel fix it for ST2009. As ever, LullabyKnell gave us a spectacular, delightfully well-written fic. Dadmiral Pike, even if he’s technically a captain at this point. No pairings, everything is platonic. 12 chapters, 61k, T. Complete.

Watching the Cloud of Dust by AngelQueen. Pike runs into Spock Prime while seeing the Enterprise off. Cue melancholy fluff (it follows Spock Prime around like a dog). 1.7k oneshot, G.

Phil Boyce/Chris Pike

horizons universe by gracieminabox. Massive, massive series spanning the whole of Chris’ life. Not canon compliant, i.e. Pike Lives. “Christopher Pike, in word and in deed.” Series, 263k in seventeen parts, G-E.

Altered Horizons by InsaneSociopath. The bar fight goes very differently because Chris gets elbowed in the face. Featuring depressed!bipolar!Chris, who is Not Having A Good Time, Emergency Department (ED) doc Bones, and mother-hen!Jim. Phil is essentially Sir Not Appearing In This Fic, but he and Chris are married. Seven chapters, 14k, G. Incomplete. I adore this one.

When Darkness Drifts by InsaneSociopath. Tarsus fic. Jim gets adopted by Starfleet but still ends up on Tarsus, except Chris is there. All Tarsus-related warnings apply. Jim and Chris centric; Phil is most present in the last few chapters. Six chapters, 44k, M. Complete.

Kinktober 2017 by nerdqueenenterprise. What it says on the tin. Series, 13k in eight parts, T-E. Complete.

A Vacation Long Overdue by nerdqueenenterprise. Reunion sex, mostly. They haven’t seen each other in six months, so they take leave on a remote beach. ~9k oneshot, E.

The Weight of a Man by imachar. Another huge series charting the evolution of Chris and Phil’s relationship. Both canon compliant and canon non-compliant, so there’s a choice if you want it. Series, 174k in sixteen parts, M-E. Complete.

shatterproof by gracieminabox. Will Make You Cry. Phil’s POV, STID compliant, featuring a picture from their early days. 4.3k oneshot, M.

Winged Desires and Veiled Persuasions by imachar. Post-Narada, ignores/was written before STID. Bones ends up hanging out with Phil and Chris at Spuhura’s wedding reception, and then the three of them have sex in Phil and Chris’ hotel suite. Pretty much pure smut. 12k oneshot, E.

McPike

The Wind and Its Satellite by severinne. Long series, some BDSM, eventual Bones/Jim/Pike. Something of a McPike classic. Series, 186k in twenty parts, M-E.

Partridge Fallen From the Pear Tree by severinne. Post-divorce Bones works as a prostitute to make ends meet. Pike comes to town to recruit him, ends up paying for a night without knowing Bones is Bones, and then they both freak the fuck out when Pike realizes who he is. More-or-less just smut and angst. Pre-canon. Three chapters, 12k, E. Complete.

Singularities Verse by FrancescaMonterone. Bones and Pike fall in love, Pike adopts Chekov, Jim is Jim. Bonus Admirals Archer and Reed, and Archer/Reed. Mostly pre-canon, ace Pike. Series, 81k in six parts, T. WIP.

Need by Noranem. Post STID, Pike and Bones invite Jim into their relationship and their bed. Established McPike, early days Bones/Jim/Pike. Four chapters, 12k, E. Complete.

Pirk

See All The Stars by HoneyBeeBritt. Chris and Jim fell in love some time before Daystrom. Fluff and angst, with a happy ending promised in part four. I come back to this one regularly, especially part one. Series, 6.2k in three parts, T-M. Ongoing.

Shining On The Quay by topaz. Post-Narada through Beyond, ignores STID. Chris and Jim fall in love, get together, and figure out how to keep a relationship going when one of them is in space and the other is an admiral. Series, 32k in three parts, E. Complete.

You Still Got Wheels, Kid by withthepilot. Yes, this is partially on here because it’s one of the few (good) fem!Pike fics. Pre-canon, Pike finds out Jim’s alive because she (not Winona or Sam) is listed as his emergency contact. Prostitute Jim. Takes place two years before canon, I think. 12k oneshot, E.

Moments along the path by InsaneSociopath. Jim, through no fault of his own, is assigned to Pike as an aide bc Command thinks he’s a loose cannon. Pike is delighted /s. (he warms up eventually.) Some Tarsus PTSD; also a fair amount of fluff. Academy Era slow burn that goes right through to (immediately) post-Narada. 46k oneshot, M. Second chapter is artwork. Long but 100% worth it.

How Do You Want Me, How Do You Want Me? by babykid528. Get together via smut. Feelings abound but talking about them does not. 3k oneshot, E.

The Ocean Between Us by severinne. They get a drink in a bar. They’re both dead. Something of a get-together fic. Can and Will sucker punch you with feels. STID compliant. 1k oneshot, T.

Mutual Profusion of Good Feeling (aka Wherein the Aliens have a Flair for Mood Lighting) by kayliemalinza. This doesn’t really count as Pirk, but it’s not platonic enough for the gen category. Away mission, the premise is ‘aliens made them do it’ but there’s no sex or fade to black. Romantic, I guess? I really don’t know, but the prose is gorgeous. Also a Pike Lives/returns to the Enterprise AU. 5k oneshot, T.

Timeline Shenanigans

In plain view by IceCream_Junkie, Killermanatee. Pike/Pike. What can I say? The image of Greenwood’s Pike and Mount’s Pike together is very pretty. 2k oneshot, E.

Out of This World by TheAsexualofSpades. Space Puns. That is all. 1.1k oneshot, G.

Discovery/quasi-SNW

Gen

A Small Storm by EKthered. Spock goes to visit his captain and ends up comforting him instead. Post Boreth. 2.3k oneshot.

you were never broken by ordinary things by SiderumInCaelo. Michael Burnham & Chris Pike. Michael has only an inkling of what’s going on, but she manages to comfort Chris anyway. Post Boreth. 1.2k oneshot.

Piler | Chris Pike/Ash Tyler

the chair and the badge by ninjamcgarrett. The boys are soft and in love. Lots of smut, but a fair amount of plot. Their respective traumas are addressed too, so there’s plenty of h/c. Honestly? My favorite from this pairing. Series, 59k in five parts, M-E. Ongoing.

Reality by aishahiwatari. Initially a take on how these two idiots settled their differences, and evolution from there. Part two is post-season two of Disco. Series, 5k in two parts, E. Complete.

survival is insufficient by topaz. Post-Disco; they get together to remember Discovery’s crew, and then they get together. Traumas are addressed. Part two is a sort-of case fic, TW starvation. Series, 33k in two parts, E. WIP.

Feeling Too Deeply by NightOfTheLand. Established Piler, post-Disco season two couch sex. 6k oneshot, E.

dancing to a beat of our own, flying with the speakers blown by wolfhalls. Neither of them want to talk about anything, aka Horrible Coping Mechanisms TM. Bottom Pike, quasi-hurt/comfort. 2.7k oneshot, E.

Christmas in Sickbay by lah_mrh. Chris is accident- and injury-prone and has a new reason to hate spiders. Ash just wants to spend time with his boyfriend. 1k oneshot, G.

The Pillow Will Disappear When I Forget I Put a Pillow There, Worry Not by prototype_malice. Sleepy fluff and cuddles. (they deserve it.) 665 words, oneshot, G.

Chris Pike/Una | Number One

it will take place without witnesses by love_in_the_time_of_kohlinahr. Post Disco, Pike is struggling with the knowledge of his future, so he and Una play chess until stupid o’clock in the morning (as one does), and then he lowkey has a panic attack. Una POV. Also features sleepy sex, but it isn’t plot-important and can be skipped over, if you wish. 2k oneshot, E.

Overtime by Astronoddingoff. Una has Thoughts about Chris working doubles for the better part of a week. Also men get pegged. Definite sub!Chris. 7k oneshot, E.

Terminal Velocity by Astronoddingoff. Una pegs Chris and drags his favorite fantasy out of him. Chris is On Board with all of this. Implied poly!Chris (i.e. Boyce/Pike) and hardcore switch/sub vibes from Chris. 6.8k oneshot, E.

All for One by knightinmourning. D/s universe, where Pike had/has to hide the fact that he’s a sub to make (and stay) captain. Mostly reccing for part two, which has a fair amount of hurt/comfort (and also hints at threatened sexual assault and definite torture; be forewarned). Technically also Chris/Phil and Chris/Spock, but there’s no pairing sex, and part two is entirely Una’s POV. Series, 4.2k in two parts, M-E. Probably incomplete.

A Gentle Touch by jedi_harkness. Chris and Una shower together. Body worship, no sex. So Much Fluff (and also happy tears). It’s super sweet. 1.7k oneshot, T.

Phil Boyce/Chris Pike

Decompression by Astronoddingoff. Chris is elated by a recent treaty success and the time spent dirtside. Phil does his best to make him even happier. Lowkey sub Pike. Implied poly!Chris (i.e. Pike/One). 3.5k oneshot, E.

Most Pike/Boyce fics fall under the AOS tags

Una/Phil/Chris

Triangulate by Astronoddingoff. Sex pollen, but they’re already-kind-of-mostly in an established relationship. Recent miscommunications lead to angst. They all love each other and they’re all idiots. Lowkey sub Pike. Two chapters, 20k, E.

Holy by Astronoddingoff. Self-actualizing featuring religious guilt/conflict, i.e. Pike is a sub and religion is weird about enjoying yourself. 2.7k oneshot, E.

Happy Birthday by MeganMoonlight. It’s Phil’s birthday. Cue breakfast in bed. 530 word oneshot, G.

#christopher pike #star trek #trek aos #trek dis(co)#fic recs #christopher pike fic recs #pike/boyce #one/boyce/pike #pike/one #piler #mcpike #pirk #a couple disco-aos crossovers for funsies #captain dad pike #dadmiral pike

52 notes · View notes

starsstruck · 4 years ago

Text

cloudbusting; part four.

a classic coffee shop story. harry is a painter that quickly becomes a regular at his neighbourhood cafe, and it just might have something to do with a certain barista. horoscope readings, mandarin oranges, and star-gazing strolls.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, mentions of anxiety words: 13k

series masterlist

art by holly warburton. (i have no vision for the mc of the fic, people in the images of paintings i use are purely because this is how i envision harry’s art to be)

a/n: thank you for being patient with me for this chapter, i hope everything turned out okay ! a big huge thank you to the amazing tina @sunflowers-styles for helping me out and being the best beta ily ❤️❤️ as always let me know what you think and please share if you can ! i love to hear everyone's thoughts and comments <3 happy reading !

Sat comfortably on Mae’s couch, you were taking a big bite of the hummus covered carrot that you had just grabbed.

“I have some frozen perogies!”

Mae’s voice floated from the kitchen, both of your laziness to make a proper dinner was about to be satisfied with hummus and snacks before Mae started digging through her fridge.

“That sounds perfect!” You called back, reaching over her coffee table for another carrot. You could hear her shuffling through the kitchen, reappearing by the couch with a box of herb flavoured crackers in hand.

“I’ll put them on later,” she hummed, seating herself next to you while turning down the volume of the Fiona Apple that was playing through the speaker. “Don’t feel like cooking just yet.”

“How was the weekend away?”

Mae had just come back from a two-night stay with her partner’s parents, at their place out in Rochester. “It was good – honestly it was pretty nice to completely get away from everything, even if it was for a bit, and even if it was with Robin’s parents.”

“That sounds lovely,” you nodded, unable to help yourself as you kept reaching for more crackers. “It’s good you got to relax for a bit.”

“Work has been far too stressful lately,” Mae nodded. “Aren’t you getting some time off soon as well?”

You rolled your eyes, waiting until you finished chewing your carrot until you spoke. “I guess. It’s not really going to be relaxing for me though.”

She shot you a sympathetic smile. “It’ll be okay – if things get too bad tell me, and I’ll come over with some kind of emergency.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you laughed, not wanting to think about the reason you were going to be taking some time off work.

“Don’t think about that just yet,” Mae told you, a smile lining her lips. “How’s work going otherwise? Oh! Anything new with the painter boy?”

You bit your lips together, watching the bowl of homemade hummus as if it was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen. You knew Mae could read you well, and you knew that as soon as you averted your gaze that she’d be onto something.

“Something did happen?” She repeated the question, voice rising in excitement as you tried to hold back your little smirk.

“He ate me out on the floor of his apartment.”

“I’m sorry, he did what?” Mae sprang up, back straightening out as she turned to fully face you. “Last I heard you weren’t even sure if he was even going to make a move on you.”

“Well…” you trailed off, not knowing what else to say. “He did.”

It had been three days since you last saw Harry. You had your usual two days off, coming back to work just this Saturday morning.

After the little distraction from your painting session, you had pulled your dress back over your knees. And with starry eyes and warm cheeks, you sat up with legs pressed to his and your arms around his neck to pull him in for a sloppy kiss.

He had tugged you closer to him until you were practically sitting on his lap, muttering near nonsense against your mouth. “You’re unreal, you know that?” and “Sound so good saying my name like that, could listen to you for hours.”

Just the mere thought brought butterflies to your stomach; which was something you thought only happened to protagonists in romance novels.

You could still feel his warm breath against your skin and the sweet nothings he had kissed onto your lips.

“Was he good?”

Mae really didn’t need to ask; she could tell by the look on your face. You nodded, confirming her suspicion with a smile bit between your teeth. “Really good.”

“I love that,” she chuckled lightly. “Anything else happen? And wait, when exactly did this happen?”

“Few days ago – I went over to his to do some painting with him. I actually ran into him last weekend when I was out which was when he first kissed me.”

“What? You never told me that.” She mocked a pout, not actually upset with you.

“I haven’t seen you!” You laughed, always favouring to tell her things in person rather than on the phone or through text.

“I suppose…” she laughed. “Have you seen him since?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I mean it was only three days ago.”

“Do you have plans to see him again?”

Again, you shook your head. “No – I don’t know. I realized I don’t even have his number or anything, I usually just see him at my work.”

“You could always DM him,” Mae nodded, reminding you of the time you both had spent scrolling through his Instagram.

“That’s true,” you bit at your bottom lip. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what he wants or anything.”

You fell quiet for a second, still gnawing at your lip. When you thought about it, you really only ever did see him at your work and other than his art practice and what kind of coffee he liked to drink, you didn’t know that much about him.

“Did anything else happen?”

“No,” you again shook your head. “He said that we didn’t have to do anything more if I didn’t want to – honestly I would’ve returned the favour but things just didn’t really go that way.”

“That’s kind of sweet.”

The wheels in your head were spinning. “Maybe he just wants something physical, I don’t know…”

Mae rolled her eyes. “Don’t jump the gun. By the sound of everything I kind of doubt that, he didn’t even get off.”

“I mean, is that weird? Maybe he does that – like in Sex and the City.”

Mae let out a loud laugh. “Life is not like Sex and the City, stop comparing yourself to that shitty show. Also, what does it have to do with anything?”

“That’s a plot,” you nodded, hating yourself for remembering all the awful plot points from the 90s TV show. “Charlotte dates this guy who’s like, notorious for going down on women and wants nothing else from a relationship.”

Mae raises an eyebrow. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“No,” shaking your head, a small furrow in your brow as you actually couldn’t remember how the episode had ended. “It wasn’t bad – but it wasn’t good. That’s all he did – he wasn’t a good guy or something, I don’t remember. He only was in the one episode.”

Mae laughed. “Babe you’ve got to stop watching that show.”

“It’s entertaining,” you shrugged, fully knowing Mae also loved to indulge in the guilty pleasure with you.

“What does this have to do with Harry – your Harry?” Mae made the distinction, as if you would have only thought about Harry Goldenblatt, Charlotte’s second husband of the show.

“I don’t remember,” you muttered, bottom lip still between your teeth as you couldn’t for the life of you remember why it was bad that Charlotte dated a guy that only wanted to eat her out.

Snapping yourself out from the mess in your mind, you shook your head. “Anyway, sorry. Things are good, I’m just overthinking.”

Mae was quiet for a second. “Do you like him?”

You paused, already knowing your answer but being slightly afraid of it. “I think I do.”

It was two days later when you saw Harry again. With your usual Monday opening shift, the slow morning had you leaning against the counter flipping through the daily newspaper as you found yourself with not much else to do.

Playing with the paper straw that was in your third coffee of the day, you blindly brought it up to your mouth just as you heard someone walk through the door.

An older man with a red baseball cap shuffled through the propped open door, giving you a two-finger wave as he walked over to the counter.

“Morning,” he chirped, placing a ten-dollar bill on the counter as you went to grab his morning muffin. “Nice day out, isn’t it?”

One pet peeve you had about your job, was the weather talk that every patron seemed to insist on having. They all loved to chat about the bright sun outside while you were stuck working inside. “Beautiful day.”

Grabbing the bill from the counter, your eyes flitted back to the front door as you were counting out the customer’s change. A familiar silhouette of someone else walking through the door had caught your attention, eyes widening a bit when you realized it was Harry who had just come in.

He had his usual canvas bag over his shoulder, light wash blue jeans and a white shirt with some kind of graphic you couldn’t see on it.

Feeling your heart beating just a bit faster in your chest, you turned your attention back to the regular (who’s name you couldn’t remember, Bill or something) with the red cap and handed him his change.

Shooting Harry one more look, forcing the corners of your lips not to open in a wide smile while you moved to prepare a small americano.

As you watched the espresso pour into the mug, you willed your body not to flush at even being in the same room as Harry. You felt like you were thirteen, with a silly crush on a boy you’d only ever spoken to once. Except that this was much more real than a small crush.

You had never really felt this way with anyone before.

“Small americano,” you spoke not too loudly in the near empty café, your voice easily carrying over the sound of Françoise Hardy’s Voilà.

The red capped regular grabbed his coffee, pouring a generous amount of cream in it with a small thank you before he headed to his table near a window, ready for his breakfast with his book.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Harry having placed his things at his usual table and was tapping away on his phone. Cleaning out the portafilter, you wiped off the counter before deciding to head back to your coffee and newspaper.

It was not even a minute later that you felt a presence loom from the other side of the counter.

“Morning,” Harry’s voice was a quiet rasp, clearing his throat as you shot him a glance.

Your stomach fluttered.

“Hi,” you hummed, willing yourself to stop your flush at the memory of the last time you saw him. Hand reaching out for your no longer iced coffee, straw between your lips as you looked up at him again. “What’s your sign?”

Harry’s brow furrowed, a twitch of a smile at his mouth. “What?”

You motioned to the open newspaper in front of you on the counter. “Your sun sign – I’m reading horoscopes.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “I’m an Aquarius. Are you reading all of them?”

You nodded with your own little laugh. “I like to compare them, plus I’m a bit bored. So,” your eyes skimmed over the newsprint. “An Aquarius hm?”

“Is that bad?”

You only hummed, finding it on the page and pausing before reading his daily horoscope to him. “Under today’s amorous skies, sometimes less is more. Resist the urge to come on too strong to a new romantic prospect. A star-gazing stroll through nature could be the perfect way to add a dash or romance to your evening. And who knows? Your nighttime adventure could even bring artistic inspo.”

A few seconds of silence washed over the two of you. Harry had his bottom lip between his teeth, unable to help the nervous twist in his stomach. The horoscope was just a bit too accurate, especially with who was reading it to him.

“That’s – that’s something.” He said after a moment. The bright sun made the little pink blush on his cheeks obvious. He cleared his throat, looking to change the subject. “What’s yours say?”

“Mine isn’t nearly as nice, a bit of a filler horoscope if you ask me.” You sighed, searching for your sign on the page even though you’d just read it not long ago. “Today is all about adventure. Today’s thrill-seeking skies get your engines revving. Expand your horizons, whether you embark on a cross country road trip or rent a cabin in the woods. It’s all about a change in scenery and spiritual balance.”

“Sounds like you need to seek some thrill.” Harry laughed, the words you had read to him about his own horoscope still stuck in his head.

“I guess I do,” you bit back a smile, closing the paper. “Did you only come in for readings today? Or maybe a coffee too?”

“So many reasons I came in today,” he shot you a smile, almost a nervous one.

“Well then,” you hummed, pushing yourself away from the counter to go start preparing a coffee for him. “Let me grab you a drink.”

He followed you, from the other side of the counter, to the espresso machine. After tamping the grounds and waiting for the shot, you placed a hand on your shoulder as you circled your opposite arm, feeling the ever growing knot under your skin.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you smiled lightly. “It’s just my shoulder – I call it barista shoulder. Not everyone gets it, I think it depends on the way you tamp the espresso.”

You saw the confusion on his face.

“Tamping – it’s when you use this,” you reached over to grab the heavy tool used to press down grounds. “I honestly don’t know what it’s called - I think it’s just called a tamper? Anyway, you press down the grounds to form this kind of espresso puck.”

You mimicked the motion, twisting your body. “You need to use a bit of force so I got into the habit of using my entire side to push it down. Some people press just in the wrist or their arm. My old boss had the same issue as me – after years of the repetitive motion it kind of fucks with your whole side; your arm, shoulder, ribs, everything.”

“Your ribs?”

You quickly stopped the shot that was still pouring, having nearly forgotten about it.

“Yeah,” you laughed lightly with a sheepish smile. “I went to see a physio for it, I have two ribs that are a bit dislocated.”

“What?! You have dislocated ribs?!” Harry looked a bit scared.

“Partially,” you corrected, as if it made a big difference.

“Does it hurt?”

“Kind of, yeah,” you nodded. “I try and stretch it out often, I even got acupuncture for it once. It’s more of a dull pain.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, a small shake to his head. “Dangerous work you do here.”

You only laughed, scooping out some ice from the machine and placing a few cubs into the glass cup, some espresso splashing onto your hand.

Placing the cup on the counter, you nudged it across in his direction. “For you.”

“Thank you,” his fingers reached for it, before sliding it a few inches before stopping.

“Oh!” He disappeared for a moment, quickly walking to his table before reappearing in front of you, all in the few seconds the espresso had been pouring for. “Brought these for you.”

He had two mandarin oranges in his hand, holding them out in your direction before placing them on the counter between the two of you.

You were so endeared you wanted to throw them at his head.

“I remembered how you said you usually forget to eat in the morning – actually I don’t even know if you like oranges. You don’t have to – well anyway they’re there for you if you want them.”

“Thank you,” you spoke softly, warming at the small action. You did in fact enjoy oranges; you loved the smell of them as well. “I love mandarin oranges”

“Me too,” Harry grinned, done with his rambling. “Love the colour too – actually I like the colour tangerine even better,” he smirked lightly, apparently not done with his rambling. “But I only had mandarin oranges.”

“Any citrus fruit really is divine,” you giggled, grabbing one in each hand.

Harry saw you disappear behind the espresso machine for a brief second, only the top of your head visible between the mugs, before you turned back towards him while wiping your hands on your jeans.

He held the small glass between his fingers, mouth dropping open to speak but nothing came out when both your attentions turned to see a family waiting for you to take their order.

You only shot him a little smile, grabbing the pen from your back pocket and moved to take their order.

Harry went to go take his seat, pulling out his usual workbook that was slowly but surely filling up with page after page of colourful sketches.

He thought over the words you had read out to him about his horoscope. He never was one to take that in a serious manner, quite frankly not knowing a lot about astrology at all. But he took it as a sign since you specifically were the one reading it out to him.

Finding himself sketching small drawings of stars and the reflection of the sky on the water, unable to help but momentarily flick his eyes up to the front counter every so often, where you would often be found standing.

He watched the way you asked a man about the book he was reading, the way the customer was so excited to share it with you. You had that effect on a lot of patrons, he noticed. You made them feel comfortable and welcomed in the little café.

With his bottom lip between his teeth, he couldn’t help but feel slightly flustered even when you weren’t directly interacting with him.

Continuing with your separate tasks in the café for the next hour or so, as Harry didn’t want to bug you when a small line up never seemed to go away.

Walking up to the front after that line up finally did subside, empty glass in hand that he placed in the dirty dish bin, before he peered around the café as he couldn’t see you.

He finally did find you in the back room, one leg bent and knee resting on the stool. In one hand you had your phone held in front of you, attention drawn towards it. In your other hand you were holding a few orange slices, mindlessly chewing on them.

After watching you for a second longer, he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb any peace you had settled into.

You blinked while you turned your head, a slice of mandarin orange just placed into your mouth as you put your phone down on the table in front of you.

“Oh, hey sorry,” you placed your foot on the ground, orange on the table as you walked over to the doorframe. He could smell the orange on you as you neared him. “Just taking advantage of the lull.”

“No of course, didn’t mean to bug you –”

“– just wanted to ask,” he paused, leaning his hip against the wall next to him. He was only slightly intruding in on the space that was technically just for the workers, watching as you rested you back against the doorframe behind you with a few mandarin orange slices still in hand. “Are you doing anything Wednesday night?”

It was your turn to pause, eyes leaving his for a second as you chewed on your orange slice. “I close – otherwise I don’t think so, why?”

“There’s an opening show, my friend has a whole series in it. It’s at the same gallery that we work at sometimes, it’s just a tiny show but – well I’d love it if you came with me.”

Your eyes fell to his again. He could see a smile starting to grow on your mouth, corner of your lip between teeth. “What time is it at?”

“Starts at eight, but it goes until eleven. You don’t need to be there right at eight.”

You nodded, and although he felt like you were dragging this out a bit on purpose, he couldn’t help but feel a small pit of nerves grow in the pit of his stomach.

“Okay,” you hummed, voice quiet as your eyes darted over to the front counter to check for customers. “I’m usually done around quarter past seven – I can probably head over for eight-thirty? Give or take, depending on where it is.”

He knew he was smiling so wide that his cheeks were dimpling. “So, you can come?”

“I’d love to,” you returned his smile.

“Amazing,” the butterflies in his stomach flew away. “Do you have a pen? I’ll give you the address.”

He watched you pat your back pocket, not finding the red pen that was usually placed there. Taking a second to check the back room, reappearing with a little scrap of paper and a pen.

He scribbled down the information you need, watching you fold up the little piece of paper and place it in your back pocket along with the pen.

“I have to head over a bit earlier, moral support and all, but I can meet you there?” Harry asked.

“Sounds good,” you hummed, excitement growing at the idea of spending more time with Harry outside of the café.

“I have to head out soon,” he spoke, “but I’ll be seeing you on Wednesday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned, lips together as he bid you a little goodbye. Just as you were debating about if you should hug him, or say anything else, a group came in waiting to be served. As always, you were interrupted by other patrons. “See you Wednesday!”

The following two days flew by. That Wednesday evening, you were giddy as you closed, rushing through all your duties.

Closing with Saya took no time at all, and soon you were walking with a fast pace in your step to head back home. You knew you actually had plenty of time to get ready, but you were taking your sweet time and wanted the process to be relaxing rather than stressful.

You didn’t really know what one wore to a gallery opening. It was a small show; that was all Harry had really said. It’d probably be casual, so you didn’t want to overdress, but you also didn’t want to look too out of place.

After washing your face, you were throwing clothes around your room as you searched for what to change into. It was then you realized that Harry had only really seen you in clothes you wore to work. It wasn’t that you dressed poorly at work, in fact you liked to think you had quite a nice, casual style, but you still felt like dressing up just a bit.

You finally settled on a dark navy dress that had orange seams embroidered up the sides and around the hem. It was the kind of dress that would look good on anyone, that fit and clung to every dip and slope of your body.

Grabbing a nearly sheer black blouse to throw over your shoulders, slipping on your trusty white sneakers, hoping that you were walking on the line between casual and formal.

With a little beaded bag over your shoulder with everything you’d need for the night, you checked the time once more before heading out the door.

It didn’t take you as long as you thought it would to make it out the door, and finally you were double checking the address on your phone before being met with the red sign over the gallery and the glass double doors.

Smiling at the man dressed in a bright red blazer who stamped your hand, you walked through the open doored entrance. You immediately felt a tad out of place, seeing everyone chatting and talking and drinking and laughing – all together.

You let your eyes skim over the space, taking in the gallery. It was fairly large, considering Harry had described it as “just a tiny show”. The room was big and open, and there seemed to be another room that opened up around a curved wall.

Gaze jumping from person to person, you found yourself feeling just the slightest bit out of place. Tentatively walking through the gallery, deciding to simply make your way around and hope to find Harry along the way.

It was when you were looking at a big dark painting, one that had different strokes of grays and browns across a large canvas, that a familiar voice spoke quietly to your left.

“Happy to see you made it.”

Turning around to see Harry, not realizing how close he had come up behind you. You had to take a little step back, the corner of your lips perking up as you saw his mouth already in a wide smile. He was wearing wide black trousers with a fitted simple black shirt, and orange converse sneakers.

“Sorry I’m late,” you spoke softly as he stood close to you. “Had a bit of an outfit crisis.”

Not moving his feet, he leaned his body closer to yours until the sleeve of his shirt brushed your arm. His shoulder bumping yours, he slid a hand around your waist so that it rested on the small of your back.

With a light pressure against your dress, he drew you in closer so your side was pressed against his. Feeling a puff of air as he exhaled hit the side of your neck, his head lightly dipped down until his lips neared your ear.

“You look stunning,” he murmured. You shivered under his touch, even in his warm embrace. Eyes darting around you, feeling a bit lost just in the moment the both of you had shared. You felt a quick kiss pressed to your temple, before his face retreated from yours.

You could feel heat spread across your chest along with a little flutter in your stomach that somehow made you even warmer. Momentarily not knowing what to say, you faced him with a smile. “Thank you.”

His hand lingered over the fabric of your dress for a moment longer, before it fell to his side along with a little step away from you. Although with your shoulder still against his, you remained close to him as you both turned back to the painting that you had been observing.

“What do you think about this one?” Harry’s voice was low in your ear.

You opened your mouth, not really knowing how to tell him that you didn’t like it one bit. “It’s very… beige.”

“I agree,” he hummed. A touch of his fingertips on your arm pulled your eyes away from the art, arm jumping just the slightest at the contact. With a loose grip of his fingers around your wrist, he was soon tugging you by the arm across the floor of the gallery. “I’ll show you the good stuff,” he said, keeping his voice low.

He pulled you around the curved corner, into the second part of the gallery. You immediately noticed the lights on this side were a bit dimmer, a warmer glow to them rather than a harsher white light.

“All these in here are done by my friend, Yanis.” He hummed, stopping in front of one of the large paintings on the wall with a light drop of your arm from his hand.

“I helped out with a few, but really it's all him.”

“You helped out with some?” You turned to catch a glance at Harry.

He nodded. “Here and there – nothing that big. He just needed a hand.”

“That’s sweet,” you hummed. You liked that, them helping each other out with their paintings. It was just all so uplifting and supportive.

Just as Harry’s mouth opened to speak, his name was called by a deep and unfamiliar voice to you. You both turned, seeing a shorter man with black curly hair in a bun approach the both of you.

“We were just talking about you,” the man spoke towards Harry, his eyes pausing on you for a moment before he turned back to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

Your name left Harry’s lips – introducing you to his friend.

“I’m Yanis. So, you’re the famous barista Harry’s been telling me about?”

You smiled at his words, eyes flicking to where Harry stood next to you and watched the pink tint the tip of his ears. “Famous?”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Only famous one here is you, Yanis. The show looks like a big hit.”

You didn’t miss how quickly he changed the subject, but you turned back to Yanis. “It really does look incredible. I haven’t seen everything yet but I already like what I see.”

You mentally cringed, still feeling like a bit of an idiot whenever you tired to compliment art. You really needed to learn the right things to say.

Just as you were about to try and say something else, two more people joined Harry’s friend on either side of him.

“There you are!” A tall dark-haired woman spoke towards Harry. She was wearing a red shirt that matched her long skirt, with platform shoes and an array of necklaces. “I was worried you had left.”

“Just showing my friend around,” Harry spoke your name smoothly. You didn’t dwell on the way he had called you his friend, but it also didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh,” she turned her attention to you, while Yanis and the other man seemed to begin a new conversation. “Sorry, I’m Rory.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled in her direction. You saw her give your appearance a quick once over, and you especially saw the way her full attention turned back to Harry.

“Everything looks so great,” she spoke towards him.

“It’s all this guy.” Harry let his hand fall onto his friend's shoulder, giving it a little pat. “We were just starting to look around actually, so I’ll catch up with you lot in a bit.”

In a quick move, Harry’s hand was brushing against your lower back, and he was guiding you towards the wall on the opposite end. You felt his fingers bunch lightly in the thin fabric of your blouse, side pressing lightly against yours.

“Sorry –” he muttered, leaning a bit closer to you as the both of you stopped in front of a painting across from where you had been previously standing. There was a sea of red and pink mountains, along with a bright blue skin and big yellow sun. “Knew we could get stuck there for a while – wanted you to see everything first.”

You only hummed in response, a small nod in your head as you kept your eyes forward. Although you did find yourself so drawn to the art on the wall, you couldn’t help but let your mind spin and spin around until the words were falling from your mouth.

“Rory,” you murmured, bottom lip between your teeth, “she has a thing for you, no?”

You could hear Harry pause from next to you, “I – yeah. Well, no – we used to date.”

Only nodding, you kept your eyes forward although you knew Harry was burning holes into the side of your face.

“We still kind of run in the same circle – it ended a long time ago I didn’t –”

He stopped rambling when you turned to face him. “It’s okay,” you forced a little laugh to your voice. “I was just wondering.”

Harry fell quiet again, as you turned back to the paintings on the wall in front of you. “I’m really happy you came with me,” he whispered, lips nearing your ear after a moment. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

You turned your head around, glancing at him over your shoulder. He didn’t move away from you, hand on your back giving your hip a little squeeze before slipping away from your body. He hit your hand with his, letting his hand fall to his side.

The words he spoke were swimming through your head, having you bite your lips together to fight off a wide smile. Just the way he was looking at you made your knees weak.

“Okay,” you whispered, lips clamped together as you turned back around.

You spent the next few hours walking around, looking at everything, chatting with Harry’s friends. You had gotten along well with Yanis, he had talked at length about the series that was being exhibited and you were honestly in awe of everyone’s talent and creativity.

It was about half past ten and you were just heading back from a quick trip to the restroom, when your name being spoken had you looking around to see who it was.

Rory was slightly towering over you as she neared you, speaking your name again to grab your attention. “Haven’t gotten the chance to chat with you, how are you liking the show?”

Trying your best to hide the shock from your face, you sent her a smile as she stopped next to you. “I really like it – haven’t been to too many shows if I’m being honest, but this is for sure one of the best I’ve been too.”

“Yeah, Yanis really did amazing with everything – Harry too.”

You only nodded, not too sure what to respond in the moment. She kept speaking. “How long have the two of you been seeing each other?”

The question took you a bit by surprise, but at the same time didn’t shock you all that much. “Oh, we’re not –”

You cut yourself off, and she took the moment to speak again. “Sorry I don’t mean to put you on the spot, we’re all just a bit nosy about Harry’s life sometimes.”

Nodding, you couldn’t help the way your eyes narrowed slightly on her. “It’s no problem,” you shot her a small smile.

“Do you make art as well?” She changed the subject.

“No,” you caught Harry’s eye from across the floor of the gallery, “God no, I can barely take a decent picture. What about you?”

“Oh, sorry I just kind of assumed! But yes, I have my own practice. Mostly installation, plus some two-dimensional work as well as some performances here and there.”

Again, you wished you fully understood everything that was being discussed. “That’s so cool,” was all you said.

“Thank you,” she smiled down at you. “What do you do for work?”

“I uhm –” feeling somehow small for the words you were about to speak and a small pit of anxiety at the bottom of your stomach. “I work in a café.”

“She manages a café,” Harry’s voice surprised you slightly as it was suddenly heard from next to you. You turned, seeing him take a few more steps towards you and stopped when he was right next to you, facing Rory.

He was surprised to see the two of you speaking in the first place, a maybe the slightest bit worried when he saw the way you were slightly recoiling away from her.

“Oh nice!” She seemed a bit surprised from Harry’s arrival as well. “Sorry,” she paused, her eyes flitting over to somewhere behind you. “I just saw a friend I wanted to chat with before she leaves – it was nice meeting you!”

And then she was off.

You were quiet for a second, as you felt Harry’s hand brush over your middle. You barely registered the movement, bottom lip between your teeth as you felt a bit lost in your head – just the slightest offput from the conversation you had just had.

“Are you enjoying yourself?"

Harry’s voice pulled your attention away from your thoughts, shooting him a quick glance as his words registered. You nodded, a smile pulling at your lips as you saw his eyes never leave yours. “Yeah, I am.”

“Wanna get out of here?”

You fully turned to face him, standing in front of him. He saw your gaze flick between his, curious look in your eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he paused. Unable to help his eyes from falling down to your mouth, he watched the way the lightly shining lips were curved in a smile. “I just remembered something I read in a horoscope. And I was thinking … fancy a star-gazing stroll?”

It was your turn to pause, fully turning on your feet until you were standing directly in front of him. He could tell that you were trying to keep the smile from growing on your lips, but the gleam in your eyes immediately gave you away.

“I think I read something about that somewhere too,” was all you said, speaking quietly enough for just the two of you. The teasing tone of your voice, paired with the way your eyes seemed to glow more with every passing second sent a warmth straight through Harry’s stomach.

“Is that a yes?”

You let out what could only be called a giggle. “Yeah, it is.”

Harry didn’t try to hide his giddiness a single bit and sent a short nod towards you before he was again leading you through the gallery. With a quick stop by Yanis to give him a hug and congratulate him, and a wave on your part before he was pulling you out of the gallery.

He was a few steps in front of you, holding the glass door open as you stepped out next to him. This time, he didn’t try and hide the way his eyes fell to eye your outfit, eyelids dropping slightly with a smirk on his lips.

“Christ,” he muttered, joining you by your side. He watched the way you obviously noticed his stare, giving him a small shove with your shoulder. “You really do look stunning.”

“You already said that,” you hummed.

“Needed to be said again,” he couldn’t help but brush his fingertips over the raised orange embroidery that went up your side. “Also, I don’t know if you noticed sunshine, but we match.”

Sunshine.

You glanced down his outfit from the corner of your eye. The dark hues of both outfits along with a splash of orange looked like you guys had almost planned it. “I did notice, actually.”

“I think that’s quite sexy of us.”

You laughed, following Harry along the sidewalk.

The air outside had cooled down a bit, still warm enough that you were perfectly content in what you were wearing but not so hot that your skin felt sticky.

Harry led the way through the emptying streets, walking so close that it seemed every other step his hand hit yours. He really felt like he had been flirting with the idea of grabbing your hand for what, maybe a week now? He just wanted to grab you, hold you close.

Hell, he had been a lot closer to you than that before.

Walking through a darkened alleyway to take a quick short cut, you shuffled even closer to him. You kept your eyes focused on your surroundings out of habit, even if you were trusting where Harry was bringing you.

It was then that when his hand hit yours, it didn’t move away like it usually did and instead his pinky finger caught your own and soon he was lacing every last one of his fingertips with yours until your palms kissed.

Harry kept his gaze forward, but from the corner of his eye he saw you shoot your newly intertwined hands a quick look. While revelling in the way that your palm felt in his, and in the way that every finger laced with his seemed to cause a tiny jolt to go straight through his body, he nearly missed the way you pulled yourself even closer into him.

By the time the water was invading your sight, after about fifteen minutes or so of walking in peaceful silence, Harry noticed the way you were walking so close to him your head was nearly resting on his shoulder.

He basked in the way you seemed to draw into him as much as he did you, and the way that you urged to be close to him and feel yourself against him just as much. The thought itself sent a new wave of butterflies straight through his stomach, clouding his mind as his pace slowed near the water.

Clearing his throat, he turned to catch a glance at you. “I remember you telling me how you like to walk along the river, but you didn’t get to do it that often.”

Smiling softly at the memory of the conversation the two of you shared after running into each other at the grocery store; you thought of that as the first time you really felt captivated by Harry.

“Is this kind of what you meant?” He asked.

You glanced around, seeing a wooden boardwalk start not too far off. “Not quite.”

Turning around and tugging him by the hand, following the expanse of the water until your shoes were walking over wooden boards that hovered above the river.

Your pace slowed even more, your hand fell from his grip as you glanced around and took in the sights around you. It was a relatively calm night out, no harsh winds upsetting the murky waters. The lights ended by the street, only a soft hue for the two of you as the boats docked out on the water were barely in sight.

There didn’t seem to be any other people out near you – then realizing that you had no idea what time it was, something that wasn’t often the case and something that you enjoyed a great deal.

The moon was high and bright in the sky, with the few stars that could be seen dusting the sky. It was for sure a star-gazing stroll, just as Harry promised.

“Looks like a painting,” you spoke from next to him, gaze out over the moving surface of the water.

Nearing the railing, the two of you took slow steps along the wooden boards. Harry laughed softly from next to you, the sound carrying in the empty space.

“Have you always been into painting?” You asked, eyes trained on the wood in front of you.

Harry hummed next to you. “I think so, yeah. I guess you could say I was drawn to the arts since I was young, I remember my mum bought me a little painting kit when I was like seven or eight.”

You nodded as he continued to speak. “Started a bit more seriously through school, like getting into techniques and stuff. But I never thought I would ever try and make a career out of it or anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Harry paused, hand pushing through his hair. “I actually studied marketing for a bit, thought I would go into business or something like that.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped past your lips, surprised by the news. “I’m sorry but I can’t picture you as a business student.”

“Yeah,” his cheeks dimpled. “Neither can I. Left after nearly two years. Then I started taking a few painting courses at a local art store and I’ve been doing just that ever since.”

“Wow,” you breathed out. “And your family they were – I mean you made everything work out for you?”

He nodded again. “Obviously I kept a job for a while, I was actually working at that little art shop for a few years too. My family was okay with it – my mum especially was always supportive. I remember when I told her I wanted to leave school to work on art she said she couldn’t imagine me doing anything else.”

“I love that,” you hummed, biting your lips together. A small part of you wished that you had that kind of unconditional support. But you kept your lips together and pushed the thoughts from your head, not wanting to bring down the mood.

“I send her some of my paintings; take them off the frame and roll them up for her. Her and my sister flew out and came to my first show over here – even though I only had two works in it.”

Mentally giving yourself a pat on the back for having correctly assumed Harry couldn’t have been an only child with the way he acted. You really did love when your hunch about someone was proven right.

“That’s really sweet,” you smiled at him. “You must miss them.”

“I do, yeah.” He hummed, catching your eyes with his for a second. “But I am glad to have moved out here. I felt like it could be temporary – I would love to live in London someday but I’m really happy to be here.”

Only nodding, you felt yourself getting lost in your own thoughts for a brief second before Harry pulled you back out of them. “What about you, you miss home much?”

Shrugging, you didn’t know what to say. “I mean a bit, in the way that anyone gets nostalgic. But,” you took a breath.

“I know this sounds terrible but honestly I don’t. It’s… exhausting to be home. I moved further away for school for a reason.”

You didn’t know what else to say, hoping that Harry would jump in with something else. You shot him a quick look, seeing his eyes intent on yours as he listened and waited for you too keep speaking.

“That’s not terrible,” he spoke quietly, after a few more seconds in silence.

You hummed, not sure what to say. Walking in silence for a few more moments and taking another breath before you chose to speak again. “My parents live hours away from each other now anyway, so I feel like there’s not really a home to go back to, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Harry’s voice was soft.

“You don’t need to apologize,” you smiled, small shrug in your shoulders. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m happy to have moved away – happy to be here too.”

Harry remained quiet, giving you the chance to go on if you wanted to. Although right now you really didn’t want to – you were having such a good evening and you didn’t want to bring any of that down by discussing your family.

Quietly walking side by side, with only the moon and the stars surrounding the both of you, Harry cleared his throat once more.

“So, what was it again that you like about this place?”

“Just the mood of it,” you shot him a glance. “Something about walking along the wood – I just really like it. And I like the smell too, I know it’s probably diesel and chemicals but it’s just oddly nostalgic for me for no real reason.”

“I see that,” Harry smiled. “So other than walking out here, what other small things make you happy?”

You were confused for a second, Harry further explaining himself after you didn’t answer.

“Just like, anything that could seem insignificant that you enjoy for whatever reason at all.”

“Oh,” you hummed, a small smile tugged at your lips at the question. You didn’t know why it made your heart soar that he was asking you about this – but it just did.

“This is really dumb,” you said after a moment. “But at work, I really like it when an older customer – they’re usually regulars – when they come in with their book and they get a coffee and a little cake or a treat and just sit there for hours.”

Pausing, not sure how to explain how you felt because right now it just sounded like any other interaction with a patron. “It's a happy-sad feeling – I don’t really know why. I love that coming into my café and having a chat with me is part of their routine, but there’s also something that just makes me feel the tiniest bit sad…”

Harry remained silent, letting you explain yourself. “It’s like, sometimes you watch a movie that has a happy ending, but you can’t help but feel the slightest bit melancholic, you know?”

Your eyes darted over to him, seeing him nod. “I know the feeling, yeah.”

Harry had never really thought about that before, never paying too close attention to the other patrons when he frequented your café. “You pay close attention to a lot of regulars, huh? I thought I was special.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as your shoulder bumped his.

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” you teased, feeling his pace slow down, deciding to stop where you were. You leant up against the railing that kept you from the water.

“What about you?” You turned to him. “I know you said you didn’t want to share much about the paintings you're working on currently, but what’s something small that you like to pay attention to for your art?”

“I don’t want to bore you with every detail…” he started out, feeling like he had been speaking about his practice the entire time.

You shook your head. “I want to hear about your art – I like it.”

Harry slipped his lips between his teeth, head dipping down for a second as he felt his cheeks blush. “Well,” he started. “My current work is still very much in progress – not really ready for anyone to see or hear about it just yet.”

“But right now – or for the past year or so I’ve been really paying attention to moments between people.”

“Just … small touches or moments of intimacy, you know? Like seeing someone rest their head on someone else’s shoulder, seeing two people hug in a big crowd. Just small moments like that where you know that they’re in their own world.”

You were quiet, even after he was done speaking. Leaning your forearms against the wooden railing, feet kicking at nothing on the ground. You saw exactly what he explained – about the little touches of public, yet private, intimacy.

“I know what you mean,” you finally said, voice quiet as it carried over the space between the two of you. Harry has his back against the railing as he keeps his eyes on you.

After he realized you weren’t going to say anything else, he kept speaking. “It’s nice, you know? Seeing people wrapped up in their … love and adoration for each other like that.”

You hummed, his words swimming through your head. “Guess I never really thought about that –” cutting yourself off, before continuing even quieter, “– guess I haven’t really experienced it like that.”

Another wave of silence washed over you, before Harry turned in his place so that he could face you directly.

The reflection of the moon rippled in the water. “Have you ever been in love?”

His words caught you slightly off guard.

You had been in relationships, sure. You’d had partners tell you that they loved you, and maybe once or twice you returned the sentiment. But you didn’t really know what it meant.

“I –” you paused. “I don’t know.”

“You say that a lot.”

You could just make out Harry’s expression. The lighting was sparse, but every little dip and curve on his features were clear as day, and his eyes held that little smile they often did.

“I know,” the words were too small puffs of air past your lips.

You held your breath in, before continuing. “I’ve always thought that I’d know, but I feel like I’ve never been in it in the way that you described. Not fully. I – I don’t know.”

The way he looked at you made your heart beat just a bit faster in your chest, so loud you were sure he must be able to hear it.

“It’s okay to not know,” he spoke so softly. You didn’t even realize you were leaning in closer to him until your knee bumped his.

“Have you?” You cleared your throat, the noise breaking through the otherwise quiet surrounding. “Have you ever been in love?”

You didn’t know why you were so afraid of his answer.

“I think so, or,” Harry paused, a small furrow in his brow as his eyes were still intent on yours. “I thought so.”

This time, your heart stopped.

“Thought so?” Voice sounding a bit hoarse, you again found yourself afraid of his answer.

There was a small shrug in his shoulders. You couldn’t help but briefly think about Rory, about whether he was ever in love with her, but you shook the thought from your head.

“I guess… I guess I’ve been heartbroken before. I’ve loved, for sure. But I don’t know if I was really in love. If that makes sense.”

Maybe he really was just as confused as you were.

“I guess you don’t know until you’re really in it.” He had his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I guess you don’t,” you repeated.

What Harry wanted to tell you, was that he had never felt the way he did when he was with you.

He also didn’t know how to tell you – he really felt like he didn’t know anything at that moment either.

He was drawn to you from the first moment he had spoken to you, and found himself unable to ever get enough every time he saw you. It had been over a month and a half since he’d first walked into your café, since he’d first met you, and he couldn’t believe the way you made him swoon.

But he didn’t truly realize that, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off.

So instead, he reached forward so that his palm could rest under your jaw and stepped a tad closer to you. He saw you visibly leaning in to his touch, your eyelashes hitting the top of your cheeks for a brief moment with a slow blink.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he whispered, voice low as his knuckles brushed over your jaw.

You nearly sighed at his touch, butterflies in your stomach erupting once again when he spoke so softly. He always seemed to be able to grab such a strong hold on you – both physically and metaphorically – but all while treating you with the gentlest of touches. “Of course.”

“I really,” he paused with his own sigh. Hand on your jaw sliding over your skin, grabbing a light hold at the back of your neck. “I really like spending time with you like this.”

Only able to nod, almost having to look away from his intense gaze. There was nothing else to look at though, nothing else you wanted to look at.

“Me too.” The words were barely there, just a pass of air from the back of your throat.

You felt his other hand smooth over your spine, fingertips finding your waist as he seemed to be blindly tracing the raised orange embroidery on your dress. Further leaning into his touch, you knew your eyes were darting all around his face as you were unable to focus on just one thing.

His own eyes fell down once more to the curve of your lips, and you felt them fall parted with your tongue wetting them on instinct.

“Can I kiss you?”

Nearly wanting to giggle at the question, as he had done much more than kiss you in the past week, and since the question seemed to be just a little late, but a laugh was the last thing on your mind right then.

All you could do was nod in his grasp, your eyes never leaving his – not for one single second. After a heavy swallow and a raspy little “yes” leaving your mouth, you let your hands fall to his shoulders to embrace him closer.

He pulled you closer in a quick motion, hand on your back holding you tight. Your chest fell against his, head remaining upright with his thumb still under your jaw.

Lips pressing against yours lightly at first, like whispers of a kiss against your mouth. He pecked two, three, four kisses on your lips like that before you edged your jaw forward and let him fully capture your mouth.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears when he fully pressed his lips against yours, with just enough pressure and desire to make your head spin. A little gasp escaped the back of your throat when he grabbed hold of your bottom lip between his, a soft nip of his teeth against the sensitive skin.

Lips parted together, never able to get enough of the way he felt against you. Harry’s tongue heatedly pushed past your lips mouth gladly opening for him. He grazed into your mouth, arm around you pulling you closer to him. Hot breath mixing together, he pushed your back against the railing behind you just a bit more so that his hips could press with yours.

His hand on your back had migrated, dancing over the curve of your bum before sliding around and giving your hip a sharp squeeze. It never rested in one place, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your body against his.

You returned his fervour, one hand smoothing over his neck until your fingertips were being pushed through his hair. Fist closing as you tugged gently on his hair, eliciting a little groan from Harry before he was licking into you once more.

Minutes passed, you had no idea how long the two of you spent like that under the stars and the moon.

He pulled away, barely, for a breath with heavy eyelids trained on you. His forehead was a millimetre away, loose curls brushing over your skin and tip of his lips brushing yours when he spoke.

“I,” he sighed, voice sounding so close to you as your eyelids just barely opened. “I – you’re unreal.”

His voice rasped slightly, as if he had just been woken up. The way he murmured quietly against you had your head spinning, thinking about how he would sound moaning your name.

Just as he was moving in to capture your lips with his one more time, a quiet buzzing was heard from somewhere. It took you a moment to register that it was your phone that was sitting in your purse.

“I think that’s yours,” Harry chuckled quietly, air hitting your lips as he spoke.

“Oh, fuck I’m sorry,” you pulled your arms away from him, fingers fumbling with the zipper of your bag. Pulling your phone out, you saw your brother's name flash across the screen.

You knew you should answer it, but you didn’t want to and he had already interrupted you. Declining the call with a text, telling him you couldn’t talk right now, you placed your phone back into your bag.

“Sorry about that,” you hummed, gazing back up at Harry.

“It’s not a problem,” he grinned down at you, a hand still wrapped around your waist. “It is getting late though, let me get you home, yeah?”

Waking up to a ringing phone wasn’t ideal. Especially early on your day off.

At first you thought it was your alarm, and you tried to snooze it. And then when it started ringing again, you slowly blinked yourself out of sleep to squint at the phone screen.

Realizing it was a call, realizing it was a call from your boss at seven in the morning, you sprang up.

“Hello?”

She spoke your name, seemingly relieved to hear you answering the phone. “I’m so sorry to be calling you, I know it’s your day off.”

“It’s okay,” your voice was groggy. “What’s up?”

“No one’s at the shop right now – no one’s opened.”

You jumped out of bed this time, double checking the clock on your phone to see it five minutes past seven. “What?!”

“I happened to check the cameras this morning, and no one is there. Do you think you could head over there to open?”

You let out a sigh, hearing the desperation in her voice. She was away at the moment, otherwise you knew she would do it herself. It was also lucky that she could check the security cameras from her phone, something you knew she did very rarely.

“It would just be for a bit; I can get a hold of someone else to finish off the rest of the shift.”

“Yeah I can go over,” you were already looking for your pants. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you so much,” she rushed through the phone. “Noah was supposed to open today I think, right? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him but not luck so far.”

After getting off the phone with your boss, you quickly pulled on jeans and a bra, a baggy shirt over the rest of your body before jumping to the washroom.

There had been moments where you had to get ready in a rush before, of course you had, it happened to everyone to sleep past their alarm. But the magic of the opening shift is that even if you were late to the beginning of the shift, it was always possible to get there before the café actually opened.

Today you didn’t have that pleasure, you would likely be arriving after half past seven at the earliest.

Mentally cursing Noah, you tried to the best with your hair you possibly could and roughly rubbed in some moisturizer into your skin before you were running out the door.

After a not so elegant speed walk down the street, you were unlocking the café doors and unfortunately leaving the door propped open for anyone to walk in.

And to your displeasure, people did walk in. You had a grumbling regular who was mad he couldn’t come in bright and early, you had a big family grabbing an early breakfast, you just had too many people asking you for things all while trying to open the café.

It was only after an hour that things settled a bit, that you were able to catch a breather and actually grab yourself a glass of water.

You were sat on the little stool in the back room, keeping your eye on the front counter in case anyone showed up. Updating Grace, your boss and owner of the café, on how everything was fine on your end and that you still hadn’t heard a peep from Noah who was the one supposed to open today.

It was just as you sent him one more text, that your name was heard from a familiar voice. You saw Harry poking his head through the doorway, both of your expressions mirroring the others in your surprise.

“Hey,” you sighed, running a hand over your hair, knowing you looked a bit a mess. Standing from the stool, you walked the short distance to the doorway as you leant up against it with your glass in hand.

“I thought you were off today?” He grinned dimples showing on his cheeks. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, I just – didn’t expect it is all.”

“I am,” you couldn’t help the hint of bitterness in your tone. “No one came in to open this morning – I got called in.”

You saw his eyebrows fall to a small furrow. “Oh fuck. How does that happen, no one opening?”

Only shrugging your shoulders, you took another sip of your water. You couldn’t help but gently shut your eyes, feeling your exhaust slowly overcome you.

“I don’t know. Can’t get a hold of the person who was supposed to open. I mean I’m assuming that they’re just still sleeping or something.”

“That’s shitty, and on your day off too.”

“It’s okay,” you shot him a small smile. “At least I don’t have to work the full shift today, just opening and I should be off soon, someone else is coming in to finish the shift. Did you want to get a coffee?”

“Uhm – if you were taking a little break its okay, I don’t need to –”

You cut him off with a laugh. “Stop that, I’ll get you a coffee.”

“Just to go for today,” he spoke, as you were tamping the espresso grounds. Nodding as you grabbed a paper to go cup, placing it under the portafilter and pressing the button to begin the slow and steady pour of espresso.

“What do you have going on today?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the passing seconds of the espresso pour.

“I’m actually headed over to Yanis’ place – a few of us are working on a collaboration piece together.”

“That’s so cool,” you smiled, sliding the to-go cup over to him as he grabbed a lid from where they were on the counter.

“What about you?” He returned your grin. “Get some sleep after this impromptu morning shift and before another week of work?”

“Oh, I’m actually going to be off for the next week or so,” you spoke absentmindedly. “My brother is coming to stay with me.”

“That’ll be good,” Harry mused from across you, having never heard you speak about your brother.

You only sighed, his words not really registering. “I guess.”

Not wanting to think too much about the week you were going to have to spend with your brother, you cleaned out the portafilter and tried to change the subject. “What are you working on with everyone?”

Harry was quiet for a second, eyes intent on you before he cleared his throat and answered. “It's all Yanis’ idea – he wanted a big collaboration but really, he’s the brains behind everything. We’re just starting today so honestly I’m not really sure what will come of it.”

“That sounds like it’s gonna be good,” you grinned.

“I hope so –” he paused, checking his phone, “sorry I have to head out. But I hope your day gets better and I’ll see you soon!”

You waved as he left, only a few more minutes into you were able to leave the café.

You physically felt your shoulders drop when you saw Aleena walk through the door. She had been scheduled to work today already, just coming in a bit earlier to give you a big helping hand.

“Thank you so much,” was the first thing you said when you saw her. “You are the absolute best. I promise I’ll buy you a drink, or dinner.”

She laughed. “No need for that, really. Should be Noah buying both of us dinner.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, nodding your head. “He really should be.”

She clocked in, and you waited a second before speaking again. “Is it okay if I head out now? I can stay and help if you need me to but –”

She cut you off. “Go, go. I know you have to go get your brother later today, and I’m sure you don’t want to be here right now.”

You could kiss her. “Really, thank you so much.”

You were rushing out of the café after grabbing your bag. You wanted to shower as soon as you got home, hopefully having the time for a little nap before you had to go over to the airport to greet your brother.

Just as you were turning the corner away from the café, a familiar outfit across the street caught your attention. You recognized Harry, nearly amused to see him still so close to the café. Your pace slowed down slightly, you were considering catching his attention or maybe just yelling his name across the street as you didn’t really have time to stop and chat once again.

Although any idea you had fell out of your head when you saw two more people with him, getting a better view of them as you walked along your side of the street. You recognized one of those people to be Yanis, and after a small squint you realized who the other person was.

You kept walking, eyes flitting over to the group across the street a few more times before you turned another corner and away from them. You knew you had no reason to be upset, or not upset, annoyed that Harry was spending time with his ex.

He had mentioned that they both still ran in the same circles, but you didn’t imagine that meant hanging out just on the daily. Or maybe not the daily, in fact you had no idea how often they spent time together. He had never mentioned her to you before, and you tried not to feel overly annoyed because you knew you had no real right to.

This just wasn’t coming out to be a very good day for you.

Trying to push everything about Harry and Rory out of your mind, you rushed the rest of the way home as you were slightly dreading the fact that in a few hours you were going to have to head over and greet your brother at the airport.

The first day with your brother was okay.

You were never that close growing up, for no particular reason. It wasn’t until you grew older that you realized you wished you had a better relationship with him, that you wished you could be like those siblings on TV.

He tormented you, in the way that older brothers usually did, but there was never a good side to your relationship with him. It got to a point where you began to realize that you nearly resented people for how close they were with their siblings.

Ever since your parent’s divorce, the two of you somehow grew closer and further apart. Closer in the sense that now it truly was the two of you against them, but further apart because your lives were in such different places.

He always knew what he wanted to do in life, and he was currently doing well for himself. He had gotten married already, and was living in a nice apartment that was also close to both your parents, much closer than you were.

He was going to be spending three days with you, his idea. You knew it would be bad to say no, knowing deep down that you needed to maintain a relationship with him. You loved him – he was your brother but you didn’t necessarily want to spend three days with him.

You always came out of any interaction – even a phone call with him – exhausted and anxious about the state your life was in.

Since you were going to be taking some time off anyway, you decided to give yourself an extra two days off just so you can have some time for yourself and didn’t need to jump right back into work.

“How’s Sophie?” You asked your brother about his wife, as you unpacked some groceries you got after meeting him at the airport. They had gotten married nearly two years ago.

“We’re good, she’s good,” he seemed to pause, sitting in your recently deep cleaned kitchen.

“Yeah?” You probed further, noticing his sudden hesitation.

“She’s actually – she’s pregnant.”

You nearly dropped the knife you had just grabbed. “What?”

He nodded. “She’s due next March. We’re really excited.”

“Oh my God –” you muttered, still in the headspace where when you heard when you heard the word ‘pregnant’ it was usually followed by anxiety not joy, even if some of your friends from college had kids of their own as well.

“Congratulations,” you snapped out of it. “That’s – that’s great! Congratulations, I’m sure she’s really happy.”

“Yeah, she is. We both are.”

“That’s great,” you repeated, turning back around and busying yourself with starting to prepare dinner.

He was quiet for a second. “How about you, are you seeing anyone?”

You very rarely shared details of your personal life with your brother, unless specifically asked. And even then, it was all very vague.

“Uhm,” you didn’t know why you were pausing; you knew your answer. The question was simple, the answer was just as simple – but for some reason the reality seemed much more complicated.

But you really didn’t want to talk about that now, especially not with your brother. “No, not really.”

You only heard him hum from behind you, before he spoke again. “Oh. You know I was talking with mom – you know she was younger than you when she had me.”

Christ.

“I know,” you only muttered, not giving him the satisfaction of getting upset over his words.

“All I’m saying,” he could likely sense your annoyance. “Is that I know you’re having fun out here in the city and whatever, but you’re nearly thirty.”

You spun around, unable to hide your anger. “I’m not nearly thirty. I’m in my mid-twenties – and even if I was, so what? There’s no timeline I need to be following.”

“I’m just saying” he put up his hands in defense, as if you had been attacking him unprovoked.

You had to tell yourself to not continue down this path, he wouldn’t budge in what he was saying. “How’s work going?” He said instead.

Again, something else you didn’t feel too keen on discussing with him. “Fine.”

“If you wanted to get your foot into something else, I can probably help you with something at my company.”

Your jaw clenched. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Seriously – even in the New York office I could help you out. You’d probably need to intern first –”

“I said it was fine,” you cut him off, feeling worn. “Thank you, but I’m okay with what I’m doing.”

Again, he only put his hands up as if he was doing nothing wrong. You willed yourself to not feel too angry over it, knowing that you were already mentally tired and if you kept speaking with him about this you might start crying – something he’d only use against you.

After a few much needed topic changes, dinner was ready and you were playing a show the both of you used to enjoy when you were in secondary school. You didn’t go to bed very late, making his bed on the couch before you headed off to sleep as well.

Only two more days, you told yourself. It would be fine – it was your brother and everything was going to be fine.

Settling yourself into bed, phone in hand as you tentatively typed in Harry’s username into Instagram. You found it quickly, seeing him having no new posts since the time you and Mae had looked over his page. Although, there was a little circle around his icon showing that he had a story.

Curiosity getting the best of you, knowing full well your own username would show up if he were to check who was looking at his story, you tapped on the icon.

Holding your thumb down on the single picture eyeing over the three accounts that were tagged in the story.

You paused when you read over a username that contained the name ‘Rory’.

So he had been spending the day with her.

You tapped on her username, watching the app take you to her account. It was a public page, with a pretty hefty following. You scrolled through rows of images, tapping on a few here and there to further inspect the posts. Most were about her art, some pictures of herself and her friends here and there but nothing out of the ordinary for a twenty-something woman.

Holy shit. You were about two years deep on her account, seeing pictures from a show she had in Berlin. You couldn’t help feel the slightest bit impressed.

Going over to her tagged photos, you scrolled a bit seeing mostly photos with friends and a few of what you figured were her art works.

The one that caught your eye, though, was a painting that seemed familiar to you for some reason.

Going over to the image, you realized why there was an air of familiarity to it. The picture was from Harry’s Instagram, a painting he had done of her back in early 2018.

His style had seemingly slightly evolved since then, but it was still very much him. The painting was of the side of her face, the setting around her not very defined so all the focus was on her profile. She was looking away, the side of her face painted in hues of gold and yellow that blended into her dark hair.

Green and yellow surrounded her, like she was outside during a sunset – it was a beautiful painting of her. The caption read “inspiration”.

You shrank back into bed.

The post was about two and a half years ago, it was in the past and you shouldn’t be overthinking it. But you felt small in comparison.

She had clearly been his muse, of some kind and the fact that he was still spending time with her just was sitting right with you.

You knew, a huge part of you knew that you shouldn’t be thinking about this. You tried to think back to all the stomach fluttering and weak-kneed kisses he had given you, the way that every touch of his skin on yours felt so right.

You thought back to the other night, the nearly romantic conversation you had shared before he kissed any anxiety or fear out of you.

But still, a smaller but louder part of you was telling you that it didn’t mean as much as you originally thought it did.

The day seemed to be one thing after another, and just as you were about to shut off your phone and try not to cry because you knew it’d make you feel silly, your phone buzzed with a text.

Again, this day was just one thing after another. It was Grace, your boss, asking you to cover Noah’s shift tomorrow. He had taken the weekend off last minute, and his 9-3 tomorrow couldn’t be covered by anyone else.

Typing back an annoyed ‘yes’, this time you couldn’t help but feel truly upset. You were exhausted from work, honestly. You knew you would still have some time off, and Grace was so kind to you, but you were just. Tired.

#i would love to hear your thoughts and feedback ! <3 im honestly nervous abt this chap oops #thank you for reading ! <3333 #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic

351 notes · View notes

woeisme-iamwoe · 4 years ago

Text

an absolutely massive Haikyuu!! fic rec pt. 2

IwaOi this time around. My favorite ship. The world’s favorite ship...there’s so many

Undecipherable, by ioo (4k. G. canonverse)

I’m pretty sure the author meant ‘indecipherable’, nevertheless! I am appalled that this work doesnt have more hits. Y'all are sleeping on it and that's not okay.

The sound of the door slamming against the wall has Hajime startling back to the present. He looks at the source of the disturbance and finds himself face to face with Oikawa, red in the face with breathlessness and a leather-bound notebook tightly clutched in both of this hands. When he spots Hajime, he makes a beeline for the bench and slaps it down right next to him.

"Koi no yokan," he says. "The sense one can have upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love."

primavera, by tothemoon (8k. T. canonverse)

All of tothemoon’s works read so beautifully

They say it takes twenty-six years, for certain breeds to fully bloom.

Learning to Walk (So That We Can Run), by ricekrispyjoints (27k. M. canon-divergence)

I've read this work so many times. Like, so many times and I’ve never tired from it. Gorgeous. The shift from friendship to romance felt so natural, love it.

"I'm not healing like I should be."

In his second year of university, physical therapy just isn't cutting it. Oikawa's knee is getting worse, and he can't hide it anymore.

Or: the light angst, project-your-own-life-experiences-on-Oikawa knee surgery fic you didn't know you wanted.

Priorities, by weirdmilk (2k. T. canonverse)

Kissy, kissy.

‘I just -’ Oikawa begins, ‘it might be difficult to get married, sometimes, I think.’ He chews on his lip.

Iwaizumi makes a questioning noise.

‘Ah,’ Oikawa says, and then, in a rush, ‘if I didn't want a wife at all - what then? If I said that to you. If I told you I can’t see it. Like - the wedding dress. The bride. I just can’t see it.’

Iwaizumi swallows again, his heart beating much faster than the conversation warrants. He wonders whether Oikawa can hear it. ‘You’re eighteen. You aren’t supposed to see it yet.’ He snorts. ‘I mean - if we’re sharing shit, I’ve never even kissed a girl.’ He doesn’t mind admitting it. It’s not something that bothers him - he’s never prioritised girls very highly, and despite Oikawa’s largely undeserved status as Miyagi’s most eligible teenage bachelor, he doesn’t think Oikawa has ever wanted a serious relationship with any of his fan club, either.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi can't sleep before their first practice match with Karasuno.

Before Midnight, by fathomfive (2k. G. canonverse)

Reads like a fairytale.

The sky turns, the seasons turn over, and Iwaizumi and Oikawa track the movements of the stars. Nothing is ever quite constant, but it's close enough.

The grass is stiff with frost. They walk in silence past the raked-over vegetable garden and up the back hill, footsteps crackling, and stand side-by-side at the top of an incline that used to seem much bigger. Iwaizumi glances over but Oikawa’s already gone, eyes searching the sky with no hint of hurry, just a kind of reverent patience.

make a bet, keep a promise, by raewrites (13k. M. canonverse)

Bet still on.

Sometimes, in still moments, Iwaizumi wonders why out of all the people on earth he ended up with Oikawa Tooru. Why it’s his face that lingers on his fading conscious in the last moments before he falls asleep, in the first blurry seconds upon waking up again. Why when he looks to his side, he expects Oikawa to be there in the same way he expects to see five fingers on both hands, a natural extension of himself, ever present.

Why he can’t imagine a future without Oikawa in it.

It begins with a bet made between the two boys in the mid-summer of their eighth year. It starts with volleyball, but like with most things involving Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, things are never quite that simple.

our hearts still beat the same, by knightswatch

two birds, by thelittlebirdthattoldyou (5k. T. canonverse)

Of heartbreaking letters and paper crane wishes.

Five months into the term, two months after he’s stopped replying to Oikawa’s texts, the first package arrives. A small square box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, and Hajime almost trips over it on the way to his dorm.

There’s a letter attached.

Oikawa doesn’t know how many times he’ll have to put his feelings down on paper before Iwaizumi believes them.

Through My Eyes, by anchoringsouls (2k. G. canonverse)

Okay! Okay, we were doing great with the soft, happy love up until the last part! That's great, just great!

“I think if you ever saw yourself through my eyes, you would fall in love with yourself the same way the way I did with you.”

in time it could be ours, by deusreks (3k. T. canonverse)

Anyone wanna go back in time and make a time capsule with me only to dig it up years later and we’re actually in love?

Set post Seijou's match with Karasuno. There's a moderate amount of rolling in the dirt. No pajamas were hurt in the writing of this fic.

There, in their joint backyard, was Oikawa Tooru, clad in his silly luminescent space pajamas, digging a hole near a cherry tree.

“What the hell, Oikawa.”

Tooru stubbornly continued digging. He looked pitiful in that moment; everything that was grand about him in daylight was meaningless in the darkness. He was only a boy with a shovel whose broken heart mirrored Hajime’s own.

we can do better than that, by spaceburgers (16k. M. canonverse)

Of course, of course, the IwaOi road trip fic. AnD thErE wAs ONly OnE bED!

Oikawa and Iwaizumi go on a road trip during the summer after their high school graduation. It doesn't go as expected, but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.

They Say it Rains Diamonds on Jupiter, by exsao (35k. T. canonverse)

I don't know, just gorgeous. Hajime’s so in love.

"You're in love with him."

Hajime considers denying it. He considers deliberately choking on his drink to express surprise, to create a distraction by spitting onto the man in front of him's pristine white shirt and causing a commotion. Instead, he swallows his mouthful of soda and heaves a small sigh once his mouth is free.

"Yeah," he says instead.

He's never been good at lying, anyway.

Midnight boys/sunset town, by carafin (10k words. T. Housemates AU):

The author says they played off of the fact that Oikawa oftentimes forgoes his sleep in order to work, and wrote it so that he doesn't sleep at all. This was so cute, kinda sad, mostly not. Love how Iwaizumi just goes along with whatever crazy stilch Oikawa is on.

In which Iwaizumi Hajime grows a few chili plants, participates in an eating contest, breaks into a park, and falls in love with a man who doesn't ever sleep - not exactly in that order.

5 Reasons Why Iwaizumi Hajime's Flatmate Is A Complete Weirdo (An Incomplete List)

1. He's obsessed with that stupid bucket list of his.

2. He's the proud owner of seven truly ugly, criminally hideous movie posters with aliens on them, which he insists on pasting all over the damn living room.

3. He's always stealing Hajime's sweatshirts.

4. Sometimes, he wakes Hajime up for breakfast. At 5AM. On Saturday mornings.

5. He literally never, ever sleeps.

The Best I Ever Had, by FindingSchmomo (62k words. T. Canon-divergent):

You’ve read it, your mum’s read it, your dog has probably read it (you really need to take facial recognition for him off your phone, he’s got some weird nighttime habits). So basically this fic caused me physical pain and then pumped me full of morphine and now I’m good! Beautiful read, hated Oikawa for a while, Iwaizumi is the only boy I would ever feel safe alone with.

A story of separation and time lost. Oikawa and Iwaizumi lose contact, and life goes on. Now, a decade later and back in Japan, Oikawa wonders if he can pick the pieces back together, despite knowing Iwaizumi has moved on. A story of their past, present and future, pieced together by shaky hands.

darlin', your head's not on right, by aruariandance (13k words. T. canonverse)

Again, I’m pretty sure anybody who's anybody has read this fic and for good reason! Super sweet realizing you're in love fic. Makes me reconsider wanting to get married.

'“Our wedding,” Oikawa says by way of explanation, tapping his finger against his magazine more emphatically. “What colors should we use? Color scheme is important, apparently.”

Iwaizumi feels his lifespan shortening.

“I was thinking our Aoba johsai colors to go for more, you know, softer tones? Besides, I’ve always looked great in that sea foam green color. Oh, and I guess you look decent in it, too.” He grins, saccharine sweet, and Iwaizumi has never been so tempted to knock one of his perfect pearly white teeth right out of his stupid mouth."

or,

Oikawa teases Iwaizumi about a childhood promise he made to marry him when they were older, except suddenly it's not really a joke at all.

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle, by kittebasu (66k. T. canon divergent)

Is this one of the most famous Iwaoi fic? I don’t know. Looks like it, I know it's my personal favorite. Where Oikawa studies bugs for a living and can’t seem to come to terms with his feelings. Very angsty, love that in a fic.

Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.

Terrarium, by sausaged (11k. T. Post-canon)

Honestly, I’m so surprised this fic doesnt have more hits! It’s so good! Made me ache! I love the memories and character growth shown through the growing of the terrarium, absolutely adore that kind of symbolism. So beautiful, give it some love because it's one of my absolute favorites.

He's practically a professional at being proactive (lies, lies, and lies when it comes to Iwaizumi).

At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

Can he really tag his Instagram photos with #YOLO if he doesn't actually put that phrase into practice?

A story about Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, plants, and rocks.

Lips like sugar, by ohhotlamb (8k. T. canonverse)

Why did my childhood best friend never offer to help me practice kissing only for us to realize we were only interested in each other? I had a fake high school experience.

Hajime is offered to learn the art of kissing from a true professional, one Oikawa Tooru. It's not as bad as he thought it would be.

Falling Slowly, by bravely (commovente) (3k. T. canonverse)

So special, imagine loving one person, and one person only like this for the entirety of your life. This is getting too sappy, I want off of this ride.

over the years, some things change; but over the years, some things stay mostly the same.

(alternatively, mornings with oikawa and iwaizumi over the years).

No sleep in the city, by loveclouds (7k. T. canonverse)

Mass/volume = Iwaizumi, apparently. (Please. If anyone gets this absolutely horrific joke, lets elope).

Along their journey to find Tokyo's best ramen, Iwaizumi finds himself asked again and again why Oikawa is still single.

Time, by surveycorpsjean (5k. E. canonverse)

Growing older together.

When they're twenty-three, their story only begins.

Everything With You, by Ellessey (14k. E. canonverse)

Came damn near to crying, you can just feel Iwaizumi’s pain. Fight scene was probably the most emotion evoking one I’ve read in a long while.

‘Hajime still loves Oikawa, but he understands now. Oikawa can't look at him and see someone he could potentially date.

And that makes it easier to not focus on the little things that used to drive him crazy—Oikawa's long legs, the way he's always hanging off of Hajime, how his whole face changes when he gets ready for a jump serve, and he looks like he could take on the entire world and win.

This new arrangement though, this living together situation, is presenting a new set of variables that must be adjusted to, and the nakedness is one of them.’

For years, being Oikawa’s best friend has worked out fine. Hajime is hopelessly in love with him, but it’s enough. Then Oikawa—who, by all accounts, has never been anything but determinedly, assuredly straight—gets a boyfriend. Or a boy friend-with-benefits. Hajime doesn’t know, and he doesn’t give a shit about the definition.

What he knows is that remaining best friends is starting to seem a bit too painful (way too painful) to be considered a solid option.

The Best Best, by rikke (12k. T. canonverse/future fic)

Takeru is a whole mood. Don’t want kids, but I do want domesticity and this fic feeds me well.

“Congratulations, Iwa-chan! You’re a dad!” Iwaizumi hears as soon as the door opens. He’s dealt with Oikawa for all of his twenty-one years of age now, but this declaration is still sufficiently disturbing enough that he turns from his place on the couch and braces himself for whatever Oikawa has done this time.

Or the one where Iwaizumi and Oikawa babysit Takeru for a week.

cheek kisses, by ohhotlamb (G. 3k. Future fic)

Sooo cute!!

“Every time,” Hajime murmurs, “every time I see you again I remember how fuckin’ crazy I am about you.”

Routine, by snoqualmie (2k. T. canonverse)

Again, anyone wanna be my childhood best friend so we can put face masks on each other and fall in love? I died, truly.

Iwaizumi is fourteen years old, horny too often and angry all the time, and he’s just starting to notice that Tooru’s legs are really long, that his lips are kinda soft looking, and his fingers feel good pressed under his jaw.

Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, by sunsmasher (19k. G. canon divergence)

Be wary, I would give this fic an upper rating to probably Teen and the follow-up fic is Explicit. But, Oikawa on the Japanese national team is just a dream as is, but add in a rekindling friendship and an angsty make out sesh? Mwah, delizioso.

It’s July 10th, 2024, and Oikawa Tooru is an Olympian. His smiling face airs on an NHK promo every 45 seconds. He’s captain of the national men’s volleyball team, reigning star of the professional leagues, and he hasn't spoken to Iwaizumi Hajime in two years.

He has, however, sent Iwaizumi tickets for the 2024 Los Angeles Summer Games.

“So go,” says Matsukawa's voice. “It’s only a few weeks. You’ve got a whole city to hide in if it gets awkward, and if it doesn’t get awkward, well…”

It’s like watching the future reconfigure, like being in high school again, watching team after team fall to Oikawa’s faultless planning and shameless charm.

“I’ll get to watch a whole lot of volleyball,” Hajime says, and resigns himself to fate and/or Oikawa Tooru.

“Hey, when you get there, can you bag a gymnast for me?” Hanamaki asks, and Matsukawa squawks.

Chasing Paper Suns, by carafin (10k. T. Future fic)

Again with the growing up and coming back together, this time with more angst than the last. Lovely, really lovely read.

Post-high school, Oikawa makes it to the national volleyball team but Iwaizumi doesn't. The next three years become an exercise in growing up without growing apart.

Some days Hajime likes to think of himself as Oikawa’s counterpart—the two of them blending into a single devastating unit, the invincible setter and his unyielding ace, the bond between them unbreakable and true. Other days he feels like he is chasing after a rising sun, always running and running with his eyes fixed on the distance, trying to cross a chasm that stretches on without end, caught in an endless and exhausting pursuit.

the yellow room, by ohhotlamb (14k. T. canonverse/future fic)

Makki and Mattsun see bullshit and call you out on your bullshit.

“I told you, we broke up like six months ago. We’re not dating anymore.”

Hanamaki eyes him suspiciously. “You live together.”

“Yeah, so?”

“There are pictures of you two kissing stuck to your refrigerator.”

Hajime shrugs. “That wasn’t my idea. Anyways, they’re good pictures. Good lighting.”

the river runs, by tothemoon (11k. T. post-breakup)

My heart ACHES. Happy ending, promise! Just read it.

One year since their breakup, Oikawa Tooru starts a list of daily reminders, tips, and tricks called HOW TO FORGET ABOUT IWAIZUMI HAJIME, and he’s determined to make it stick.

—

This is a firsthand account of how to deal (and rather spectacularly, at that).

I sure hope that guy gets fired, by Xov (29k. T. canonverse/time loop au)

The only thing better than one confession, is MULTIPLE confessions. Oikawa trusts Iwaizumi unshakably, and that's beautiful.

It was the fourth time experiencing the exact same day that Iwaizumi Hajime reluctantly admitted to himself that something was very wrong.

my only friend was the man in the moon (until i met you), by ohhotlamb (7k. T. canonverse)

Just so innocent and sweet. Oikawa said ‘effort’.

In which Oikawa has a life-altering revelation, and Hajime is starting to think it involves him.

Bet On It, by originalblue (13k. E. canonverse)

Tooru being nice for a week? That can only end one way… with a d*ck in Hajime’s mouth.

Hajime knows exactly how shitty Oikawa's personality is, and has no scruples whatsover about betting Oikawa six thousand yen that he can't be nice for an entire week.

especially for tender ones like us, by viverella (17k. T. canonverse/post break-up)

Gods! See? See what I mean? How could I forget about a work as heart wrenchingly beautiful as this? Give it some love, actually, all of the love.

The worst part of it all, Tooru thinks to himself sometimes, is that even as they fought and kicked and screamed and tore each other to shreds, it was never that Tooru stopped loving Iwaizumi any less. The worst part of it all, he thinks, is that loving Iwaizumi turned out to not be enough.

(OR: on finding the right person at the wrong time and learning how to pick up the pieces)

sunset town, by skiecas (33k. T. canon-divergent)

Another work that I just CANNOT understand why it doesn't have more hits. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I almost cried.

In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.

Two years down the road, reconciling his lifelong dream with his lifelong love proves to be the greatest challenge.

of odd numbers and intimate regrets, by bravely (commovente) (5k. T. post-canon/one night stand au)

Basically, Tooru and Hajime sleep together after not speaking for seven years and of course there’s feelings and angst and a belated chance at happiness and a life together.

Tooru’s spent the last seven years of his life in a carefully constructed schedule that is, he realises now, as much a habit as it was a way to forget about the person in front of him.

[or, the one night stand AU between two people more than friends but not quite lovers, measuring the passage of time in distance and long-gone memories, the expansion and contraction of the spaces between their fingers each time.]

cross my heart, open wide, by acchikocchi (7k. T. canonverse)

Super cute, super short. Realizing you're on a date with the wrong person one-shot.

For a minute Hajime doesn't know what to say. Everything and nothing crowds his mind, leaving no room to think. That he's never tried this. That volleyball's over. That he's graduating in five months. That it would be really nice, at least once, to go on a date with a good-looking guy.

Hajime goes on a date. It's not with Oikawa.

Fernweh, by oikawashoyo (19k. G. canonverse/post time skip)

A mature(ish) Tooru?? I love works that show Tooru growing and living happily in Argentina and this one is just beautiful. (Plus! Plus, Skai did a piece on it as well and I love ALL their work so you can visualize everything). Love it.

Argentina is stretching out before him, an opportunity, a challenge. He is reminded of his losses, his insecurities, his disappointments; sees them form a tall, tall wall blocking his path to success. He takes a deep breath and knows he is going to shatter it.

In which Oikawa's whole life is spent longing for the horizon — in the form of a dream, a home, and a boy.

i breathe easily in your arms, by orphan_account (2k. M. canonverse)

Soft, soft sex

When, after completing their high school graduation ceremony and heading home to enjoy their freedom, Oikawa had pulled him into his room and pressed his lips hesitantly against Iwaizumi’s own, it seemed an inevitable development in the unfolding narrative of their shared existence.

Despite years of having a bed to himself, the sensation of another body taking up space in his sheets, curling against his chest, creating warmth, feels natural in much the same way.

old and new, by Mysecretfanmoments (5k. T. canon divergence)

Finally a fic where they don't freak out on confession and it's sweet.

“You seem—sad.” Was that the right word? Others sprang to mind: desperate, lonely, anxious.

Tooru looked away. “Are you going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

Tooru folded his arms, sighed. “I missed you, of course.”

Hajime swallowed.

“No need to look that way. I told you, I’m not one of your macho man buddies. I’m allowed to say stuff like that without being embarrassed—”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hajime complained. “No need to be so defensive. I’ve missed you too.”

“Oh?” Tooru seemed to get a little of his own back, leaning forward on his elbows. “What about me did you miss?”

((Going to separate universities, Hajime and Tooru learn the true meaning of "distance makes the heart grow fonder"))

all i wanted was you, by spaceburgers (6k. E. college/fwb au)

This was more emotional than I thought a 6k friends with benefits fic could be, okay? Okay.

Wherein Hajime and Tooru are fuck buddies, Hajime curses his treacherous heart, and Tooru is bad with feelings.

we shine like diamonds, by whitemiists (26k. T. canon divergence)

I couldn't not include this work. It deals with internalized homophobia so well and I really resonate with it.

In all seriousness, I’m very lucky to live in a country where my sexuality is widely accepted and my heart goes out the LGBTQIA+ peoples who are forced to hide themselves. You are loved and your sexuality and gender-identity are not wrong and never will be.

Oikawa is nine when he first hears the word. The boys on the playground whisper it like it's dirty, like the way they daringly mutter the word fuck and then look over their shoulders to check their parents hadn't heard.

"You know Abe-kun from class?" they snicker, hands cupped around their mouths like they're passing along a filthy secret. "I hear his older brother is... gay."

Look For Him, by Leryline (18k. E. canonverse)

A collection of kisses. I love Hajime’s grandmother.

She laughs gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so heartbroken before, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi sighs and prods at the mackerel with a chopstick. “Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s just different, you know? Like Oikawa pissed me off so much that now he’s not here I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“But you weren’t always annoyed with him, were you?” his grandmother smiles serenely and takes a sip of her tea. “My, my, Hajime, old women see everything. I saw you out there with my finches, when you were kissing Tooru’s nose. Your mother and father used to do the very same thing, you know, when they were younger. And look how long they’ve lasted. I hope you and Tooru last, Hajime. He’s very good for you.”

Oikawa has kissed Iwaizumi more times than either of them can count; it’s a constant thing, their lips never really leaving the other’s skin. There are, however, times when they’ve kissed that are burned into their memories. Eight of them, to be precise.

film reel life, arsenicjay (8k. T. canon divergence)

Such a unique and creative idea! Reading from the eyes of a camera, so beautiful!

The only person Iwaizumi is lying to is himself, when he insists: I am not in love with Oikawa Tooru.

how to let your planets align, by tether (tothemoon) (15k. T. end of the world au)

This is the only remotely non-happy ending fic I will be including on here, and it's purely because it's a gorgeous read. And yes, I ached. Your lips, my lips, apocalypse.

It is the last day on earth, December 2nd, 1985, when you realize you're in love with him.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fic #haikyuu fic rec #iwaoi #iwaizumi x oikawa #Iwaizumi Hajime #oikawa tooru

72 notes · View notes