#which was just More expansive & More evidence like yes i love all this shit a lotttt thanks

[unproduciblesmackdown]

with the recent like self-analytical framework of [putting hand on own shoulder] "are you looking for the external validation of value in this which would never be guaranteed, and you don't even think it should be contingent on this anyways" it's like, that also speaks more to like "yeah i did really enjoy live performance / theatre-adjacent and -overlapping stuff"

like i have my sense of how much i loved things and none of that involves any memories of having enjoyed it b/c of any feedback i got, from peers or instructors or anything. memories of curtain calls don't stand out much. like fun Specific Feedback was a kind older (relative to me) performer with the central role telling me that my literal leaping onstage (dance performance. grande jete entrance) despite a technical difficulty that would have to be improvised around was Inspirational/Motivating lol. i stopped having any particular stage fright (although is that when you're onstage? more like, anxiety beforehand about messing up. being onstage was the easier, enjoyable part) thanks to just having to yolo through those technical difficulties lol....anyways and then that same show actually, some relative to me younger audience member's dad was like "she's your (role's) biggest fan" and we nervously take a pic together lol. these things were fun & standout but Not Even It; not at all like "this is what makes it all worth it" like this is largely beside the point but a fun little bonus outlier event or two

like there was also no "i loved it b/c of Being In A Cast" nor b/c of any particular like, hanging out having fun Social Element. i loved rehearsing, though. loved being backstage (or in green rooms, or dressing rooms) but not because of any particular company or goings on. loved waiting & practicing / warming up & getting things together like your own costuming & being summoned to backstage & whatall. loved all the technical elements of getting a show together, when things were being assembled / worked out, though i didn't get to have much of any active hand b/c i'm like this twelve year old just learning the part, but it was fun to witness. none of my sense of what contributed to having a great time entailed any particular praise or anything; there was some implicitness in how all at once i graduated from [ensemble performance, back row for tall people] to [roles with solos] and the like, but there was just like, being busy, doing things well enough that it just wasn't Impeding anything lol, and in other arenas where i might've gotten more comments about being like, an outlier per whatever measure of success, it was definitely like, it's all just [successfully avoided negative attention] and ofc people think good grades are good but i'm not particularly moved by the awareness that that in turn is what's good or impressive about me, or something. or that i have to have anything like that for [successfully avoided negative attention]

and i wouldn't have like, done a monologue to an empty room and been like wow magical. i'd do my thing for rehearsal, and then for an audience, but you can't really see the audience and you're like ten doing local ten year old recreational stuff so it's like, the curtain calls you don't remember much (by you i mean me) and then you're done, and for me it was the fun of just like Everything Before. no like classic memories montage of great times socializing, it was me sitting in the green room equivalent, me warming up in the hallway, enjoying being in an auditorium for like 7 hrs of rehearsal, etc, we didn't do any like social events like high school performance afterparties or anything; i wasn't like Friends w/even the occasional person i also knew from school, and that didn't matter or diminish things in the least. performing A Show and for whatever Audience and that abstract is completely good enough. any of my parents' involvement, unavoidable b/c i couldn't even get places without being driven, was a major downside; i didn't like any like post performance [congrats] from them b/c that stuff was just its own unconstructive Performance that you, by which i mean me, were required to be sufficiently like Oh Wow about when it's like, the focused attention from you here means i want to leave; being left all amongst other adults during rehearsals was the good shit, while it also wasn't the case i needed like support or hype from any of those adults either.

there was Some tradition of like, older students in some program who'd take a trip to nyc / do some performance or other, and that seemed exciting but it stopped existing before it could be relevant to me lol. also for the first like, show that was like "audition for parts" vs "class recitals" they gave us like a relevant keepsake for it, and that was a nice surprise, since i had a great experience and all. and one of my main [not dance, with lines and everything] experiences being this fourth grade english class scenes from julius caesar, auditioned again, i'm like hell yeah that this has to be nongendered b/c it's all a bunch of guys, so i play a guy, and an antagonist yippee who doesn't die midway through and sounds easy-peasy to be like [be the dictator assassin] lol. it's funny how already i Cared about like, wish we had Effects instead of awkward silence for the drama of that assassination. wish i like, knew fuckall about acting. but the teacher just focused on telling us all to talk louder b/c nobody could be individually mic'd, and in the end you really couldn't hear fuckall of other performances so that was a win. and we got to do it twice b/c some people's parents got stuck in traffic. all i remember of my parents' presence was being like "omg yes i get to stop being here talking to you b/c we get to do that Again hell yeah"

like it's social but in a Parallel way. i'm contributing my part, i know my role, you know yours, i'm fondly remembering sitting in some school lobby having mini muffins with hours to go before our performance, amongst other people but not at all hyped abt interactions with them or at all disappointed abt the absence of any. i enjoyed it all being in front of people, others involved in the show, or the audience, but i wasn't there for any specific feedback, just being Part of that group constructed experience there. truly this case of like....loved all of that exactly as it happened, was on my own shit, did not need any external validation, didn't need a specific kind of Socializing that's supposed to look like having individual interactions with personal friends, had this passion for it that i also was having a perfectly good time exploring on my own, whilest also enjoying working with / learning from whatever instruction i got. like sure wishing i knew fuckall about acting but that it turns out no not everyone necessarily all loves stage acting as The Peak like that, and this comfort and interest with it that comes from like, you have all the practice of Having to perform and mask and act in life against your supposed incorrect abnormalities, but here's this constructive and creative and expansive edition of that art and science. good enough for doing it all through like fourteen

[tumsa]

Eyooooooo, I came here because I got upset. Like REALLY fucking upset, you know?

I scrolled comfortably through tumblr, thought of nothing and the vast expanses of my life waiting to be filled with another fandom-brainrott and then saw this.

You.

You are out here and dare to think about your writing as, and I quote "not good enough for serious stuff", and I thought, I should ask you this in all polite sincery:

What the fuquè?

I shit you not, I love your writing. Honestly, I could and I would write you a whole essay about why, how and all the nuances of writing you hit.

All the snippets you serve, they are fucking 5 Star Michelin meals in my starved fanfic brain.

Like your beginnings, for starters. In fanfic in general it is often so, that the writer think that you have a basic knowledge about the stuff that is about to come. Yes, that's right but every writer writes characters differently so a general introduction is always helpful to get an insight about how the character is portrayed.

The problem with this, you loose the attention span and the curiousity of readers, if you slapp on a full chapter of introductions.

And you. You just skip this whole problem as if it doesn't even exist in the first place!

Like your VegasKim fic! You come all in, let us sink in the story and it feels so incredible smooth and real because you skip the detail descriptions and useless stuff and show what is important instead!

Your writing doesn't NEED any explainations and full fledged descriptions because you manage to captive us nonetheless!

You give the 100% concentrated plot, without anything that is nice to know but doesn't influence the story in even one bit.

And this is so amazing and incredible, so don't you dare to say otherwise!

But, to make sure, you won't get the impression that this is the only thing I love, lemme tell you some more. Okay, write some more.

Your view of the characters. And for this I can use any of your snippets, storys and texts but I specificly choose Arm's Investigation Bureau and Welcome to the Playground. And here is why:

Your knowledge about your characters is, no matter how different they are, incredible large and in detail.

For example, in Arm's investigation bureau, you focus on Arm's perspective and view of things and I understood every single one of his thoughts and choices.

You showed me, how he thinks and feels and how his view influences his way of thinking and acting. He is the autidiegetic narrator in this situation, so his view filters and influences our view of Vegas and Pete in this case.

And here is the cherry on the top of it, you pull it off that the viewpoint of Arm is enough to get information about all the other characters and situations.

You don't need to clarify anything with another point of view or a sentence from the perspective of another narrator, ARM. IS. ENOUGH!

And I am hitting the table right now, because DO YOU KNOW HOW HARDCORE AMAZING THIS IS?!?!?!? HOW FUCKING AMAZING YOU ARE?!?!?!

Which brings me to my second piece of evidence, this time from your story, Welcome to the Playground.

You introduced us to a character called "Reece" (I am crying about him while I am typing this and it is entirely your fault)

Reece is an OC, and in a full fledged fandom it is a hell of work to even get some reaction from readers towards oc's because in a lot of cases one focus naturally on the charas one already know. And that's okay, it's not bad. But it could be better. It could be like yours.

Because normally, an oc is a stylistic choice. It is nice but you often lack a deep connection. Never heared of it? Yep, I thought so, because again, you fucking skip this whole problem and go in with the solution as if you were born for it!

You show through Ken's perspective how Reece acts and how it affects not only Ken but also Vegas and their whole story. So you literally slam through the narrative without abandoning the red thread and plot of your story, AND HOW THE FUCK IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!?!??!?!

We TRIED so BAD to analyze how to call this structure, how to identify it and we couldn't find anything like this even in romans and books, this is so unique and so special that even bigger authors fail to portray but you do it like a walk in the park!!!!!!

You made me feel things about Reece, an complete unknown character, a blank space that you filled with his personality and his importance for the story since sentence one!

You not only made me like him, you made me cry about him! You let me feel Vegas rage, Ken's pain and the final snip that pulled him towards the Minor Family, I want to shake you so bad, then hug you and cry while yelling at you from where the fuck you could get the impression your writing would ever be not good enough for anything!

Don't think I am done with you!

Your writing is literally one of my favourite conversation topics with a friend of mine (hug the little snail if you see it and then kick it, it deserves it) and if you are able to get us two lazy pieces of wood to overanalyze every choice of words in our freetime you did something correct.

You are literally used as an example of good writing and storytelling for godsake, so don't you dare to let anyone, including yourself, telling you otherwise!

So be fucking sure, I fucking love you, your fantastic brain and your amazing writing!

Have a beautiful day and kick every asshole that tries to stand in your way and your passion of writing, no matter if human or intrusive thoughts, they try to bullshit you, so get over them, preferably with an SUV.

Peace✌

peace??? you can't send me this and then end it with a 'peace I'm out', what??? who are you and why did you decide murdering me is what you should do? hello? anon? come back?

this is one of those rare moments when i am so speechless i don't really know what to say.

thank you? i guess? marry me?

[taem-min-archived]

Yours Truly || l.tm

PAIRING || Taemin x female reader

GENRES || Angst, Letter AU, Romance, Friends to Lovers AU, Coffee Shop AU

SUMMARY ||  You sat down and wrote your love letter to Taemin, penning down all your emotions and thoughts of your very strong relationship before it went down the drain. But what had happened? Would he still receive your letter? Or would he throw it away like countless others did? A small part of you wished he would come back to you, even though the reason he left was all your fault

Or, in which there are two kinds of love. And one might have been lethal.

WARNINGS || Blood, Major Character Death, Heavy Angst (I cried too)

WC || 11.8k *nervous laughter*

A/N || Yeah I’m the Birthday Girl and I decided to present my own self a Taemin fic . Also, the spectacular album of MOVE-ing released on my birthday AND its my blog’s one year anniversary so woohoo to me and Taem!! PS: I CRIED LIKE SHIT WHILE WRITING THE ENDING

PLAYLIST MOVE-ing || Day and Night | Move | Love | Snow Flower | Crazy 4 U | Heart Stop | Rise | I’m Crying | Thirsty | Stone Heart | Back to You | Hypnosis | Flame of Love (yes, all bops)

TAGLIST || @foggyinternetchaos @moonsclover @queenmedi @lazycursedchild @shrutiajit @cerisetalks​ @exoxobsession​ @nctisthecity​ @woo-minhee02​ @en-sun​ @buttvi​ @vllxchor​ @stayinzencity​ @tyunnie​ @joepomonerof​   @spookydanielle​ @luvingtyong​ @mgg-81​ @dayskz​ @hxhaifhdj @jungwoniics​ @elenaely​ @tinteathea @hrjemo @xavi-in-kpopland​  @midnightmoi​ @whatudoing​ @fifty-shades-of-mischeif​ @spacebyuns​   (If you want to be added to my taglists, fill in this form)

Dear Taemin,

How have you been doing? It's been quite sometime since you...left. And I’ve been so lonely without you.

Yes, I know it's my fault you left, but sitting here all alone in the house on your birthday reminds me of how much we used to fill each other’s emptiness up. We were one, until we weren’t.

Writing this, I remember a lot of things about you. The things we used to do. And the things we could have done if you hadn’t gone away.

I remember you used to like my stories a lot. So here’s a story. A story about us.

A single tear drop fell, sliding down her cheeks into the vast expanse of water underneath her feet. 

A drop in the ocean.

What a funny saying it was.

It summed up her feelings now. Her feeling that she was drowning in this vast ocean, sinking underneath as all her pain and worries pulled her underneath, threatening to drown her. She screamed for help, but the water kept getting inside her mouth, choking her even more as no one heard her cries for help.

And as she stood on the bridge, watching the dark waters swirl underneath it, she wondered why didn’t it swallow her up; why didn’t she let herself drown away with her pain.

“Excuse me.” 

Her head whipped in the direction of the voice, eyes falling on the young boy of her age staring at her in curiosity. And worry.

“Are you okay, miss?” He asked.

She blinked at him rapidly.

His soft features stood out distinctly underneath the street lights. His eyes were wide with worry and with a pang she realised this was the first time someone had asked her whether she was okay.

No one cared how she was. Especially not strangers.

What had he asked? All of a sudden she forgot the question, as she watched him step a little closer to her, his button nose scrunched up in confusion.

He waved a hand in front of her face.

“Miss?” He asked again, this time the worry  evident in his voice.

He has such small hands. She realised. Kind of cute.

“I- I-”

What would she say? That she was okay? Or did she tell the truth? No one had ever asked her this question ever.

But even if she did tell him the truth, would he be able to help her? Or would he just say ‘it will be okay’ like most people did? 

All of a sudden she felt his hand brush against his shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise.

“It’s okay. You can tell me. Even if you can’t, it’s okay. Come have a coffee, it will warm you up.”

Five minutes later she found herself in the cafe he worked at, gingerly sipping the hot coffee he had made for her.

“So.” He said, sitting down opposite to her. He gave her a smile, and all of a sudden she felt her heart flutter. It was such a beautiful smile, the way his cheeks and eyes curved upwards as though he was smiling with his whole face and heart. “How’s the coffee?”

“G-good.” She whispered, taking another sip. It was good.

“What were you looking at?”

She looked up at him confusingly, asking him to elaborate.

He jerked his head towards the glass window, indicating the bridge on which they were standing just a few minutes ago.

“Oh.” She whispered, placing the cup down. “I was thinking of death.”

“I see. Was it inviting you?” 

She looked at him, frowning lightly. She had expected him to have the usual expression people had whenever she told people about this. But he had just...accepted.

“It was. It was inviting me over to a much better place. More peaceful.” She muttered, staring out of the window once more. She realised how pretty the bridge looked, cars driving back and forth, the street lights shimmering and the city line in the background.

She heard the chair scrape as he got up from his seat and walked over towards her. She looked at him as he stretched out his hand for her to take.

“What’s this?”

“I’m inviting you too. But for a dance.”

She stared at him and he raised his eyebrows.

“It’s a better and more peaceful place too, you know?”

Sighing, she placed her hand on his and he pulled her up, pulling her to the centre of the empty cafe.

Placing his phone on the nearby tables with a soft melody playing, he wrapped his arm around her torso, pulling her in closer.

She gasped at the closeness of their bodies; she could feel his body heat and found it oddly comforting.

Gently, he grasped her other hand in his and she gingerly placed her other on his shoulder.

Slowly, he twirled her, letting the music settle in them. 

She had never danced before, she was too bad at it. But now with his arm on her waist, pulling her across the floor she felt a sudden sense of security, like he would never let her fall on to the ground.

The sound of your breathing pulls me

The song flowed through her, and after a long time in her life, she felt a smile flicker to her face. She looked at him, and his smile widened at her attempt to smile, causing him to twirl her even more enthusiastically.

Across the distance to your sad face

He pulled her in even more closer, and she gasped at how close their faces were. He just smirked at her.

The day I was you, the night you were me

On and on they went, and not for a second she felt tired. She felt a giggle threaten to escape her throat as he spun her. She had never danced like this before, never even knew this feeling of different ecstasy.

Time is drunk with us

How long had passed? Did it matter? What if he had to close the cafe? Oh, but even he seemed to be enjoying it and wasn’t even bothering to switch off the music or stop dancing.

I didn’t know how to stop

Is this what people meant when they said time was frozen? 

I didn’t know how to hide my heart

She was vaguely aware of the way their fingers fit each other, his small hands feeling soft against her not so perfect ones, the softness of his shirt underneath her fingertips and the way his each breath hit her face, making her eyelids grow heavy.

You and I, we were different before

Finally, the song came to a stop, causing the two of them to finally pause. Their eyes met and she burst out laughing, stumbling away from him. She fell onto one of the chairs, unable to stand anymore due to the amount she was laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, clearly amused at her as he came over and sat down right beside her.

“Nothing. It’s just that- oh god I can’t stop, what have you done to me!”

A soft smile came on his face as he watched her, feeling a sudden sensation in his stomach as she beamed at him.

“Better?”

She smiled at him. She didn’t need to say anything, he understood everything through her expression. 

Suddenly she glanced at the clock and jumped up. She didn’t want him to end up getting in trouble because of her.

“I- I’m sorry if I kept you-”

“Don’t worry about that.” He said with a brush of his hand, guiding her towards the door, one arm on her back.

He removed his arm from her back to open the door for her and with a jolt she realised how dreadfully cold it was without his body heat, which she had found oddly comforting.

“Will you come back again?”

She turned to look at him. 

The street lights were casting the light on his face, causing his features to glow softly and she felt her heart give an odd twist.

“Only if you want me to.” She muttered.

He looked at her.

“I do. I would very much like it if you can come and see me. It gets really lonely here.”

“Then I will.”

Another smile broke into his features causing her heart to flutter again. She barely kept up promises, but for some reason she wanted to see him again and not ruin that smile.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“I’m Y/N. What about you?”

“I’m Taemin.”

“Taemin.” She repeated, the name sounding beautiful to her ear. It rang a bell, a distant memory she couldn't grasp exactly. 

Nonetheless she shrugged and waved him a goodbye, not sure if she would see him again.

“What are you writing?”

She jerked at the voice, nearly bumping into Taemin who was peering through her shoulder at the notebook she was writing on. She slammed it shut and glared at him, but he just flashed back his goofy smile, causing her to lightly punch him.

“Is your shift over?” She asked quietly, not wanting to disturb him or the customers.

He nodded, taking a seat right beside her. She was aware of his arm which he had placed on the top of her chair, a few inches away from her back.

“What are you writing?” He asked once more, indicating at the now closed notebook. 

She blushed, hands fumbling as she tried to slip in the notebook into her jacket pocket embarrassedly.

"Nothing. Just a...story I'm working on."

"A story you say?" He leaned in until their faces were inches apart, a playful smirk on his otherwise innocent face.

She glared at him and looked away.

He didn't need to know. Everyone always made fun of her, and she was pretty sure he would too.

"Don't forget to give me your signed copy once you become a bestselling author."

She blinked at him, surprised at his statement.

"Y-you think I'll be able to make it?" She whispered.

He tilted his head lightly. This near, she could smell his scent and she felt a calmness take over her as she inhaled his comforting scent.

"Why wouldn't you? I know you'll be good."

"Thank you." She muttered, staring down at her lap in embarrassment. People had always called her dreams useless, a child's dream with no real responsibility in this world. She was supposed to find a job that would earn her family proper money, not feed people's imagination.

"Look at me."

His soft voice caused her to look up at him, only to feel her cheeks explode out of embarrassment as she nearly hit his face.

Taemin laughed, and much as she wanted to be angry with him, his endearing smile was causing her heart to skip beats.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her a little more closer to him, allowing her to enjoy his body heat. He smiled softly at her once more.

Could people's laughs do that to you? Could you fall in love just by one's beautiful smile?

I'm  overthinking. She thought. She could not fall in love, nor could someone fall in love with her.

She was a broken doll, a subject to abuse and tears, meant to be thrown away after people were done playing with her feelings.

"By the way...how did you find me on the bridge?" She asked, fairly curious of that question since she left his place yesterday.

True you could see the bridge clearly from the cafe but one did not simply leave their shop unattended just to check on a girl staring at the flowing waters underneath it.

But she must have asked the wrong question because the minute those words left her lips, Taemin's smile fell.

And she saw an expression she knew very well, pain.

His eyes which usually held all the warmth and love in the world were now replaced with a hollow expression, as he revisited the painful memory lane this bridge must have been holding for him. The colours drained from his cheek, as he swallowed hard, trying to hide the pain and sadness.

But she knew this feeling, knew this horror that haunted her everyday.

He stared at her with a vacant look, his mouth opening and closing, forming soundness words as no sound escaped his throat.

"Taemin?" She asked gently, reaching out to hold his hand.

His soft and small hand fitted into hers perfectly once more. But while yesterday he was just holding hers to give her support, this time she was holding his firmly to give him support for whatever might have happened.

She gave it a squeeze gently and slowly, his eyes trailed downwards towards their entwined hands.

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to." She knew how uncomfortable it must be to open up to a complete stranger, especially if you were ignored at home. But there was something about Taemin, the warmth and comfort he gave, the reassurance that everything would be alright which made her tell him the little things she told him. And she hoped that she too was able to pose as an emotional anchor for him.

He took in a ragged breath.

"My mother." He whispered. "My mother she- she jumped off from here-"

"Shhh." She whispered, placing an arm around him to pull him in closer. 

"I- I- keep looking out, in case someone-"

She felt the bile rise her throat at this statement. It must have been horrible for him, horrible enough for him to come running to stop a stranger.

Had she ever thought what impact this decision would have had on her family?

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, she scoffed.

Did anyone even care about her now? What were the chances that they would after she was gone? 

“She’s gone. She’s gone.” He whispered, still staring at their entwined hands shell shocked. She felt her heart give a painful squeeze looking at his hurt face. “She...left me.”

He looked at her and she felt her heart stop in pain. His eyes were watery as he stared at her with quivering lips, like a little child not able to accept the truth. She wrapped her arms more tightly around him, wishing all of a sudden she could rob all the world’s happiness just to make him happy.

“Taemin. Taemin. I’m sorry. She must have been in a horrible condition to leave a wonderful person like you behind-”

“If I’m that wonderful, why did she leave?” Tears had now begun to spill his eyes, slowly cascading down his cheeks. “Why? Why did she go away? I tried so hard to be a good son.”

She didn’t speak. She wanted to know what had happened exactly, but she was scared to ask him in case it ruined him more. She hated this. She hated seeing him like this.

It dawned on her that this was the first time she didn’t want to see someone in pain. All her life she wanted people to feel her pain, to endure her sadness and suffer her heavy emotions, always threatening to drown her. But here was someone, someone she had just met and for the first time in her life she wanted him to be happy, to be not touched by the darkness in her heart and to not feel a single pain she went through.

Judging by his words, he must have been young. Much younger than now. She shuddered at the thought of a young Taemin having to hear his mother didn’t just die, but she suicided.

“Taem.” She whispered, the new nickname rolling off her tongue faster than she could stop herself. But it sounded sweeter, more suiting to his young self than the elegant name Taemin. Pulling him into a hug, she rested her cheek over his head, rubbing his arm. Slowly, he stopped crying, but was still shaking in her arms.

He was so warm, the soft fabric of his shirt wanting her to never let him go ever.

“Why did she go?”  

“She fought a lot with dad. They fought a lot. Bec-because of me. They fought because of me. They didn’t want me, but at least my mother still forced herself to love me. A-and then she decided I-I wasn’t worth it and s-she just ju-jumped off-”

“Enough.” she whispered softly. "No more going down the memory lane."

He let out one final shuddering breath before quietening down.

The two of them sat like that together for a long time, just holding each other as though they might fall apart if they let go.

She had never hugged anyone, let alone been hugged by anyone but right now, with Taemin in her arms she felt a calming sensation take over her. His soft hair reminded her of something distant, a fond memory of childhood long forgotten. But even though she was the one who was comforting him, holding him in her arms made her feel safe. Like everything was going to be okay one day.

"What about you?" he asked quietly. Slowly, he broke away from her grip to look at her. "What about you?"

"What about me?" She asked him. What else did he want to know about her? For some reason, she wanted to tell him everything about her, she wanted him to know her. It was this strange comfort he always gave her, even if it was just by looking at her, that caused her to feel bare and vulnerable in front of him. Like he needed to know it.

"Why were you standing at the bridge, staring at the water ?"

Her mouth fell, as a tornado of emotions not her all of a sudden, causing the world to go swimming as her head spun.

What would she tell him? That she too was wishing for the same fate as his mother?

No. He already knew it. He said so himself. Then why was he asking again?

"You know why." She muttered, looking down.

He gripped her shoulder tightly, causing her to look up at him in surprise.

"No. No Y/N. You can't be selfish like my mother. Have you ever thought of your loved ones?"

She glared at him angrily, shrugging off his hands.

"Have I ever thought of them? Why don't you ask whether they have thought about me?"

Taemin shook his head.

"They love you. I know they do."

"You think? Or do they love me in the twisted way your mother used to?"

It was like a slap on his face. Taemin stared at her, shock clearly written all over his face.

She got up from her chair before making her way towards the door.

Turning back one last time she said, " Don't pretend like you know me, Taemin."

The sound of the small bell jingling snapped his attention back to the door, his mouth opening wide in shock at the customer appearing.

Taemin stared as Y/N made her way to the counter, eyes on the floor as always.

"Hi." She said shyly, still not meeting his eyes as she stood in front of him at the counter.

"I thought you would never come back. I thought I'll never see you again." He said breathlessly, still stunned by the fact she was there in front of him. 

Slowly, her eyes flickered to his and she cleared her throat, causing his stomach to flip.

"I was actually waiting for your shift to get over. I didn't want to disturb you like yesterday."

He felt his cheek heat up. 

"About yesterday, I'm sorry-"

She shook her head, cutting him off.

"Don't apologise. You were just saying it from your point of view. And...that's fine. I understand what you were trying to say."

He gulped.

"Still, I'm sorry for being this blunt. I really am."

Slowly, a smile broke on her face and Taemin felt himself mirror hers. She looked away almost immediately, a small blush appearing on her face.

"Can you pinch me?" He asked her.

She looked at him in surprise, blinking rapidly.

"P-pinch you?"

"I need to know you are real. That you aren't�� my dream."

She stared at him for a while, before slowly raising her hand and bringing it to his cheek. Then as gently as she could, she pinched his soft cheek between her fingers, trying not to hurt him.

But before she could pull away her hand, Taemin grabbed it, bringing it closer to his lips.

Gently he brushed his lips over her knuckles, causing goosebumps to break all over her arms. She prayed that he hadn't noticed it.

"I'm sorry. I was so worried you left me forever-"

"I'll never leave you." She cut him off, smiling at him.

What was she saying? She shouldn't be lying to him. And yet, a small, no a large part of her wanted it to be true, wanted to prove to him that he wasn't the one broken, it was others who couldn't see his beauty.

He smiled back at her as he dropped her hand, leaning towards her instead.

"So." He said, his voice back to his playfulness. "What can I get for my senorita on this occasion of reunion?"

She felt her cheeks heat up even more, looking down in embarrassment. Why was he always so playful?

"You don't have to get me anything." She said shyly.

"My treat. I insist."

"Just coffee will do."

"Would you like a tiramisu too?"

Her eyes shot up to him.

"T-tiramisu? What's that?" Taemin had been quick to his expression, but she nonetheless caught that slight taken aback. Was this something everyone knew?

"It's a dessert. Don't worry about it much, I'll get it ready. Why don't you have a seat?"

"I want to help you-" she started but he cut her off again, looking at her sternly. She felt a giggle escape her, and she made her way to the tables.

Fifteen minutes later, Taemin joined her with two steaming cups of coffee and a platter with a dessert which looked like a cake.

“Is- is this a tiramisu?” She asked, pointing at the cake.

“Yes, try it out, won’t you?” He sat down next to her, already cutting down a small piece with a spoon. 

“Here you go.” He said, bringing it closer to her mouth. She blinked at him in surprise, then slowly opened her mouth, letting him feed her. He smiled at her and she felt her heart flutter, a smile coming automatically to her face.

“Am I forgiven?” He asked, leaning closer towards her, his smile growing at her blushing face. She was again hit by his scent, causing her senses to distort as everything blurred away except for Taemin. 

She felt his arm go around her back as she moved closer into him. She could feel his body warmth and for a minute she felt the world had stopped spinning, like all the pain in her life was gone.

“This is lovely, isn’t it?” She asked.

He smiled at her. 

“Maybe- maybe one day if we could sit on the bridge and-”

“We’ll create beautiful memories.” She completed his sentence. Somehow, she understood what he meant. He clearly wanted to forget the horrible memory associated with the bridge, and for the first time in her life, she was willing to help someone.

She stood outside the cafe, shuddering as another sob escaped through her mouth. She was freezing in the drenching rain.

Oh how she wanted to be in Taemin’s arm, his warm embrace and sweet words throwing away all her pain. 

But right now she was afraid to go inside the cafe, did such an expensive place let dripping people enter? She didn't think so. It would be a nuisance for him and his customers. Also the place would be dirtied by her filth.

She was about to turn back and go, when she felt someone catch her by her shoulder and whirl her, causing her to nearly fall into Taemin.

“Y/N! What are you doing getting drenched in the rain?” He asked, and he sounded slightly angry. The grip of his hands on her shoulder was causing the pain in her shoulder to flare up, but she swallowed it up along with her tears.

She started numbly at Taemin, who too was getting drenched in the rain.

His face softened as worry coated his expression.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He asked softly. 

“T-Taemin.” Was all she managed to whisper. Her legs felt weak, and she wanted to crumble to the ground. The physical and mental pain was too much to bear, and the only reason she had forced herself to come till here was to tell him a goodbye.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Love, please respond to me.” He pulled her into his embrace, and pulled her into the cafe.

The familiar smell of coffee and him, his comforting warmth and the cafe seemed to blur out all her pain and the people staring at them. He gently helped her onto a chair.

“I’ll be back.” He whispered, and she nodded subtly. Through the corner of her eyes she could see him telling something to the customers. Slowly, they got up and one by one left the cafe until it was just the two of them.

“Love. Love, tell me what’s wrong.” He whispered, wrapping a soft towel around her wet body and then pulling her into his arms.

His comforting touches caused her to break down more and she sobbed into his chest as he rubbed comforting circles on her back.

“It’s okay. I’m there.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead.

She took in a shuddering breath. 

“M-my father. H-he h-hit m-me with a b-belt telling m-me I should-shouldn’t meet u-up with y-you. And-and w-when I-I told m-my mom s-she slapped m-me-”

“Shhh. I’m here now. They can’t touch you now that I’m there with you.” He whispered, gently rocking her. She buried her face into his chest, drenching his apron with her tears. His hug on her tightened and with a jolt she realised she was still shaking, trembling in his arms in fear.

“Where did he hurt you?” He asked her softly, peering at her.

She blinked at him. “M-my shoulder.” She cracked.

His eyes widened in horror as he remembered how he had gripped her shoulder. 

“Can you- can you show me? I can try giving you first aid.”

“I-” Her voice died. She looked at what she was wearing. A t-shirt. Showing him her wound would mean removing her t-shirt completely. Taemin seemed to realise that too, because he turned a shade of red. Then getting up, he got another clean towel.

“Here, you can use this wrap yourself. I won’t look, I promise.”

She nodded gingerly and Taemin got up and walked away, keeping his back towards her as he had promised.

Her hands reached for the two buttons but she couldn’t even grasp them properly. They were shaking so much that she was having a hard time to even unbutton them.

“T-Taemin.” She called out, the shivering of her hands not stopping as she thought of her step father, and all the times her family had abused her.

He came running to her side and stopped abruptly as she looked up at him with teary eyes. He sat down beside her and gently took her hands away from the buttons.

“It's okay. It's okay. Just breathe. You are okay.” He whispered, staring at her eyes.

“C-Can you help me?” She whispered, her voice trembling. His eyes widened at her suggestion, a faint blush appearing on his pale cheeks.

“I-I trust you a-and-”

“Okay.” He said, not meeting her eyes yet. Slowly, his eyes flicked to the buttons on her shirt and as gently as he could he unbuttoned them.

“Do you- do you want me to help you-”

“Y-yes please.” Even though she was shivering, she could feel her cheeks heat up too as Taemin looked down. His fingers reached the hem of her t-shirt, and as gently as he could he pulled it off her. She tried not wincing too much at the pain of her shoulder and as soon as the shirt was off her body she wrapped herself up with the towel, Taemin still looking down.

"You can look now." She whispered. 

Taemin looked up, his eyes directly flicking to her face as his cheeks reddened  again.

Then his eyes landed on her shoulder and he let out a hiss, as he gently raised his hand, lightly tracing over the purple bruise, the cut now more wide open. It had stopped bleeding long ago, but the clot made it look in an even more bad state.

"Wait here." He whispered, before getting up and bringing a small first aid box from the cashier counter. Then, pulling her closer to him, he began working her wound. She shivered slightly at his touch and he froze. But her eyes softened a little and he calmed down a little. 

He leaned in closer and her eyes fluttered closed as his breath tickled her.

After a while, the wound was now cleaned and he had applied some medicine to it along with a band aid.

“Thank you.” She whispered. His eyes flickered to hers and she felt her heart skip a beat when she realised how close they were sitting. His breath hit her faces and their lips were just an inch apart.

All of a sudden she got this mad urge to kiss him, to know how his soft plush lips felt against hers, to feel his soft hands cup her face and to hold his shirt again, the soft fabric feeling like heaven underneath her fingers.

Taemin stared back at her, first softly and then with a little more intensity. All her surroundings and pain seemed to vanish as she could do nothing but look at his beautiful face, her stomach flipping as his eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips and back.

The clock chimed above them and they jumped apart, her heart beating rapidly at the thought of what could have happened had it not chimed.

Taemin glanced up at the clock. “Look at the time! It’s pretty late. Do you- do you want to come with me? To my house? Since-” He began shyly.

“To your house?” She asked, a bit surprised.

Taemin reddened again and looked away, before speaking again. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I meant in case you don’t want to go back home or-”

“I would love to.”

He looked at her surprised.

“You- you will come?” He seemed elated. 

She nodded.

“I-I don’t want to go back home-”

“Okay, that’s okay. We’ll get you changed but for now you can wear these.” He said, producing a shirt and pants of his. She took without questioning, hobbling to the bathroom in the cafe. She quickly changed out of her wet clothes and put them in the small bag he had given her too.

Finally she walked out and found Taemin on his phone.

“Do you have an umbrella?” She asked, sitting down beside him.

He looked at her in surprise.

“Umbrella? No, I don’t. We aren't walking to my home, it's too far and it's raining hard. I’m calling my chauffeur.”

She blinked at him.

“Ch-chauffeur?” How rich was he? Wasn’t he just a worker in this cafe?

He avoided her eyes.

“You’ll see.”

And within a few minutes she watched a huge black SUV pullover towards the cafe. All of a sudden she felt her throat constrict in fear.

Taemin. Lee Taemin.

No wonder the name sounded familiar. How could she forget? The Lee family was the richest in the city, they were the owners of almost half the buildings in the city.

“Y/N?” She heard Taemin ask, as he raised his hand to place on her shoulder. She immediately flinched away, all of a sudden scared of him. 

He froze, and then a second later dropped his hand.

“Y/N. Y/N, I’m not like that-”

“How do I know?” She whispered, quickly edging away from him. He grabbed her arm and she screamed. But his touch was so comforting, like he wouldn’t ever harm her, like he would never betray her and she stopped.

“Do I look like that kind of person? If I wanted to, I could take advantage of you before too, right?” He asked. 

She bit her lips and slowly nodded.

“Instead- instead I trusted you. I-I told you a-about my mother-”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, cutting him off so that she didn’t have to hear the breaking in his voice, the choking emotion again. Her heart gave another painful wrench at the very thought of it.

He pulled her closer to him.

“Don’t apologise. I understand.” He whispered, his soft eyes causing stomach to flip.

The honking of a vehicle outside the cafe broke them off their reverie.

Outside a huge SUV was waiting for them, and she reluctantly took Taemin's hand as he helped her to stand up. Closing the Cafe fully behind them, he walked her towards the car.

"Er," she began, her cheeks heating up as Taemin opened the car door for her before she could.

"Get in." He said gently, tapping her back.

She sucked in a breath. Once she got in, there would be no turning back.

Slowly, she clambered into the car, Taemin following right behind her.

"Who is this, master Taemin?" The driver asked, his flicking to the rear view mirror. She felt her stomach turn icy cold as she tried sinking into the seat as much as she could.

"A friend of mine." Taemin said, his voice extremely cool. She turned towards him, as she watched the boy she knew take up the role of someone else, someone who was the rightful heir of the Lee family, and someone who was the leader of the elite circle these rich distinguished people always put themselves into.

"And will we be dropping her off-"

"She'll be coming with us." He cut her off, looking away from the rear view mirror as the driver, no chauffeur raised an eyebrow. Clearly, Taemin did not bring friends with him, let alone female ones, to his home.

The car started moving and she felt herself let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. 

She felt a warm hand hold hers, and she looked in panic at Taemin.

He gently pulled her in closer.

"Relax." He whispered, his low voice comforting her as she nodded slowly. With a jolt she realised she smelt like him, that comforting smell of home that always seemed to linger on him, linger on the clothes of his he was wearing too.

"Do you always go by car?" She whispered, not sure whether you could speak loudly here.

He grinned at her affectionately.

"I do. I have to, rather."

"I don't get it." She muttered, shaking her head as she let the thought set in. She was sitting next to Taemin. Lee Taemin. If he was so rich, why did he work in a cafe?

"You don't get what, love?" He asked softly.

The sudden use of this new nickname caused her cheeks to heat up, and she looked at him shyly. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes lost in hers as he slowly pushed away a strand of hair from her face.

She felt her heart race.

"You don't get what, love?" He asked again.

Forcefully, she tore her eyes away from his face, trying to concentrate on his question. But it was hard, it was hard with him this close to her and her heart skipping beats each second.

"If you are so rich, why do you work-"

His thumbs stroked her bottom lip causing her to gasp audibly. His eyes flicked from her lips to the chauffeur and back to her, and she understood what he was trying to indicate.

"Don't you have school?" She asked instead, her voice slightly high as her stomach flipped at the way he was looking at her.

He smirked.

"Don't you have school?" He mimicked her, and she slapped his arm slightly, wincing at the slight pain on her shoulder.

Taemin immediately noticed that and pulled her into a half hug. She snuggled into him, his familiar scent engulfing her as he gently rubbed circles on her back. 

“I do have school...but I come here directly after school.” 

She didn’t want to pressurise the answer anymore, at least not for now. So she tried engaging herself in their casual talk about daily life. They talked about a lot of things, as though none of them were crumbling under the intense pressure of life.

The car stopped finally, and she peaked out of the black tinted windows. It was still raining hard so she couldn’t make out much of the house except for its hugeness.

The overwhelming feeling was back again. She couldn’t possibly even imagine living in such a huge house, her entire family probably lived in a house as big as one of its rooms.

The door on her side opened, giving view to a butler with an umbrella.

He frowned as his eyes fell on her and she looked down embarrassed, but Taemin cleared his throat.

“Master Taemin. I see you’ve bought a guest.”

“I have. She will be staying with us. Is father home?”

She could see the butler’s jaws working, as Taemin’s grip on her arms tightened.

“No. He isn’t. You are in luck today.”

“Good.” Taemin muttered, nudging her to get out of the car. Soon they were inside his huge home. She had expected it to be warm, there were heaters blasting in but for some reason it was cold, as though no one ever wanted to live here or had any love for this place.

“Master-” A new feminine voice appeared, and froze as the maid’s eyes shifted to her and Taemin.

“Noona.” Taemin said with a smile, and for the first time Y/N felt that his affection for her was genuine. “Could you get us some things to eat? Y/N here would be staying with us overnight.”

The old woman smiled at her and for the first time since meeting the staff of the house, Y/N felt safe.

“Come on.” Taemin muttered, pulling her into a bedroom. She assumed it was his room, as he indicated her to sit on his bed. He left the room and came back a few minutes later with his maid, a pile of clothes in her hand.

“These are my mother’s clothes, they should fit you but.” The woman smiled at her, giving her the clothes and then some soft towels. Then nodding to Taemin she left the room.

Y/N ran her hands through the towel, her breath halting at its softness.

“What’s wrong?” Taemin asked, sitting down beside her, the soft mattress sinking down due to their combined weight. She looked around the room, still trying to comprehend the vastness of the room.

“I hate it here.” He whispered.

She looked at him. “Do you hate the richness, or being locked up here with your dad?”

He sighed.

“Why don’t you get ready? I’ll have some warm food ready by then.”

“Okay.” She whispered. She walked towards the bathroom when Taemin called out to her again.

“I’ll dress up the wound again...but um-” His pale cheeks had flushed again and she nodded, saving him from the embarrassment of continuing.

The bathroom was huge, giving her enough space to carefully remove Taemin’s t-shirt from over her head, trying not to open the wound again. 

Finally, she stepped out of the bathroom, not even shivering due to the abundance of hot water he had, comfortably clothed in his mother’s soft clothes. Her shirt was still unbuttoned, so that Taemin could dress her wound.

He was wearing pyjamas, and as she stepped out, he turned towards the bathroom.

“You are bac-” He froze, his cheeks turning red at her almost bare torso and he quickly looked away. She felt a smile on her cheeks as she giggled at his flusteredness, and then slowly walked up to him.

“It's okay.” She whispered, slipping the shirt off her injured shoulder. Still not looking at her, Taemin took a first aid kit from his table and began working on her shoulder.

He was still avoiding her eyes, and Y/N snapped her fingers in front of him, causing him to look up finally. 

"Why won't you look at me?" She asked, pouting slightly at him.

His eyes fluttered close as he let out a sharp breath.

"It's just that- I just hate seeing you hurt. " he said.

For some reason, she felt heart flutter at his words. Gently, she took his hands in hers,  causing him to look at her. His hands were very soft and warm, and his small fingers fit in her hands easily.

"Why?" She asked, her voice just a whisper. 

He sighed.

"It hurts me. It hurts me a lot to see you hurt, upset and unhappy."

She stayed quiet, not sure how to answer this. Y/N could feel her heart  hammering and she was sure it was loud enough for him to hear too.

"Here." He said, changing the topic as he pushed a tray towards her. The familiar aroma of hot chocolate filled her nose as she gingerly picked up a cup and a soft piece of cake beside her.

Taemin mirrored her actions but as soon as she took a sip from the cup, a sense of familiarity hit her hard.

"You made it." She said, her eyes wide awake. When Taemin had asked the old maid to get them something warm, she hadn't expected his own drink, the one which always made her relaxed and feel at home. It was a taste she had got used to, but could never get enough of. It was as though it was brewed along with his sweet words which always put her to ease.

He raised an eyebrow. She felt her stomach flip as a thought crossed her mind in this weird time: Taemin was dead handsome, looking at her like that with one eyebrow raised.

"Of course I did. Who else would make it?"

"No I thought-" her cheeks burned in embarrassment. Didn't rich people usually have cooks for them?

Taemin seemed to guess her question, because he answered it on his own.

"Noona usually cooks when dad is home. When he's not, I like to experiment. Besides, I thought you liked my food-"

"I do, I do. I like it a lot." She said, smiling at him and a smile appeared on lips too.

He edged closer to her.

"But I bet you don't like it as much as me."

Her eyes widened at his flirting words, it quickened the pace of her heart but she glared at him instead.

"Don't be so sure. If I finished this drink in a few minutes it's definitely because I like it more than you." She said, placing the empty cup on the tray.

"Well I made the drink after all. Even the cakes and biscuits."

She pretended to think for a while. There was a slight whine in his voice, as though he was demanding to be acknowledged by her.

"We'll see that tomorrow morning."

"Right." Taemin said happily, standing up from the bed. "I'll make you your favourite breakfast. Let me show you your room."

"My room?" She asked, slightly crestfallen. She could hear her heart speeding up again, but this time due to a different reason. All her life she had wanted some privacy from her family, but the very thought of sleeping all alone in this huge mansion seemed to terrify her.

Taemin seemed to notice that.

"Why? Don't you want to sleep alone? Don't worry, my father isn't home-"

"I want to sleep with you." She cut him abruptly.

The very thought of not being able to feel his body heat, his soft touches as his hands caressed her seemed to scare her. She couldn’t imagine being away from his presence and comfort, it scared her too much.

She thought of how a few nights ago, she wasn’t sure if people could fall in love with other people’s smiles or just in a few days but Taemin had definitely proved her wrong.

He was everything she had ever wanted to associate with love. The comfort and warmth he gave her made her feel alive, like she deserved to live finally.

If love was a person then Taemin was definitely love.

“Okay.” He said softly, moving closer towards her. He smiled at her gently, before raising his hand to tuck in a strand of hair behind her ears.

His touch was light and delicate, and she let out a breath. His eyes flicked to her lips before coming and resting on her face again. The room was dimly lit, highlighting Taemin’s soft features. Her breath hitched as he leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Have you...ever wanted to pause time?” He asked, his breath hitting her face.

“Now?” She whispered back, aching to feel his soft plush lips against hers.

His smile grew a little.

“Me too. I want it to stay.” Saying so he leaned in more and her eyes fluttered close. Soon she felt his soft plump lips encase hers, kissing her gently as though she might disappear if he pressed his luck too much.

His pillow-like lips encased hers and she felt like she was on cloud nine. Gently, she wrapped her arms around his neck and he tried pulling her in closer by her waist.

The two of them fell onto the bed, not breaking the kiss. She could feel his heart racing against her chest, and his body heat engulfed her with its warmth. He held her close to him, and she hugged him back tightly.

Suddenly he broke the kiss, eliciting a whine from her.

"Your shoulder-" he began and she cut him off with a kiss. She couldn't feel the pain anymore, the only sensation she could feel was the tingling of her cheeks, and the fire burning at the pit of her stomach craving for more of his touch.

Taemin pushed her onto the mattress a little, causing him to roll over her. He broke the kiss once more, staring at her face with such burning passion that she felt her stomach flip. 

“I love you.” He whispered, before meeting her lips with his again. She entangled her hands in his soft hair, running through the locks as she sighed into his mouth in content.

“Can you love me though?” She whispered. She doubted anyone could love her but she knew she loved Taemin more than anything else in this world.

“Don’t I love broken people?” He asked back, a small smile lingering on his face.

His mother. He was talking about his mother. And her.

Gently, she cupped his face and kissed his soft lips.

“I won’t leave you. Ever.”

“Promise?” He asked.

“Promise.”

“Come here.” He said, pulling her inside a room with a tug. She giggled slightly as he shut the door lock behind them.

“What’s so funny?” He asked her, glaring at her although a smile danced on his lips. They had just finished breakfast and Taemin had wanted to show her something. The events of the previous night were still fresh in her mind, causing her to giggle even more loudly.

“Nothing.” She said, turning around to look at the room. But before she could see it properly, she felt Taemin push her against the wall.

“No, tell me. What’s so funny?” He whispered, his eyes dancing with mischief as his hot breath hit her face. She felt her stomach flip, but instead she pushed him off her, moving away from his grip.

The room was pretty much like the other rooms, except it looked older. Like it had never been renovated before. But none of its contents had been touched, judging by the slight dust.

“Is this- is this your mother’s room?” She asked, turning around to look more carefully. 

She heard him sigh. “Yes it is.”

He sat down on the old bed, and she followed him. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him.

“You asked me why I run a cafe right? It’s my mother’s. For me, going there right after school is an escape from reality, escape from my father and escape from losing my sanity. I need to go there. I hate it here so much that I can’t-”

She took his hands in hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I understand.” She whispered. “That’s the reason I write. To escape from my family. But of course people think-”

“It’s a waste of time and potential.” He completed her. 

“Taemin, I’m really really sorry-”

“Why did she go?” He said, his voice breaking. She glanced at him worriedly, as a single tear rolled down from his eyes. Gently, she rubbed it away with her thumb and cupped his face, turning his head towards her.

“I don’t know Taemin, I don’t know why she went away. But sometimes,” she could feel her own voice choking as the familiar pain rushed back, the feeling of being sucked in a dark hole which Taemin had pulled her out of. “Sometimes it's hard, so hard to live, that for once you wish to be cruel and leave your loved ones forever. Anyways, they would have been better off without you, not having to bear your pain-”

“Stop.” Taemin whispered, his voice shaking as a fresh set of tears began to fall from his eyes. His eyes fluttered close as he fervently pressed his lips against hers, not wanting to hear each other's broken voices. He kicked her bottom lips softly and she opened her mouth slightly, permitting his tongue enter and explore her hot mouth.

Her heart felt like it was exploding, kissing him seemed to have set ablaze a fire in her heart and she felt the firecrackers go off in her heart.

Finally she broke away and smiled at him, an idea coming to her mind.

"Can I invite you to a dance?" She asked, standing up and facing him.

His swollen lips formed a small smile as he played along with her, "I don't know miss, can you? Can you dance?"

"Hmmm." She pretended to think as Taemin stood up and took out his phone, getting a song ready to play. "I don't know sir, maybe you could teach me?"

"That I can."

Saying so, he grabbed her hand and her waist and twirled her once, as she screamed in delight. Soon the soft melody began to play.

Each note, each note

Gently, he guided her across the floor as the rhythm filled them both. This time she felt her steps were much smoother, much graceful and matching to Taemin's more. 

The fingertips that trained me

She was highly aware of his hand on her back and the way he held her other hand. His fingers were soft and soothing, like a calming ocean pulling her towards him.

The breath that blew in Created this melody

He leaned in slightly and their smiles grew wider. Her eyes flicked to his swollen lips and back to his dark chocolate ones and she felt her stomach flip. There was something captivating about them.

Against my desire, I'm cut out for greed

She met his lips and he dropped her hands, pulling her in closer to him by wrapping his both arms around her waist. Her arms automatically wrapped around his neck as he twirled her slowly, not breaking the kiss.

Slow down a little, there's no need to rush

Finally, they broke apart and rested their foreheads against each other, a soft smile on both of their faces.

“What did I do to get you? Is it fate?” Taemin asked, quickly stealing a kiss from her. She laughed.

“I don’t know whether it is fate or not, but I’m glad you saw me that day.”

“I’m glad. I’m glad too I saved an angel.” He said, before pulling her onto the bed.

“There. Make sure it is soft.” Taemin whispered, his lips grazing her ears slightly causing her to shake visible.

His hands were over hers as he taught her how to knead a dough, his chest flushed against her back. She was trying to listen to his instructions as carefully as she could, but him being this close to her was causing her to have trouble concentrating.

They were back at the cafe where Taemin had decided he needed to teach her how to bake cookies, or rather, take this as an excuse and opportunity to hold her and kiss her every second he could.

“Now you do it.” He said, letting go of her hands. The lack of warmth and touch caused her to inhale sharply; his touches were always so soft and soothing she felt too comfortable in them but he wrapped his arms around her stomach, pulling himself even more closer towards her.

“Taemin.” She whined, as he nuzzled her nose in her neck. “Are you ever going to let me go?”

“No.” He said. She could hear the mischief in his voice and yet the soft kisses he placed on her neck were so sensual she couldn’t help but close her eyes. “You were talking about your story? What happened to Sooyoung after that?”

She wasn’t sure if her cheek heated up due to his display of affection towards her or due to the fact he was so interested and absorbed into her novel.

“Forget it.” She muttered, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as Taemin rubbed it as lightly as he could.

“No.”

She turned a little to see a rather pouty Taemin, frowning and pouting his lips at her. She let out a laugh, he looked too cute like this, before grabbing his face to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“You must be tired.” Taemin said quickly, turning her around so that he could kiss her again. She bit her lips from trying not to laugh at his eagerness. “Let’s play a game.”

She raised her eyebrows in distrust, sure that he was up to another cheesy flirting game. Taemin pulled a small jar from the counter towards them, unscrewed the lid and picked up a pepero from it.

Oh no.

“So. Do you like chocolate or biscuits?” He asked seriously, inspecting the pepero in his hand. She felt her stomach flip, as she realised once more for the millionth time that Lee Taemin was handsome. Damn handsome.

His eyes flicked to her face lazily and she felt her throat go dry. If it weren't for him holding her waist or her gripping his shoulder tightly, she would have fallen down due to her weak knees.

“Ch-chocolate.” She whispered. Taemin didn’t break eye contact with her as he gently prodded her lips with the chocolatey end, sliding it a little into her mouth. And then, he leaned in closer, wrapping his soft lips on the other end.

Still not breaking eye contact, he began nibbling at the end of the stick. He cupped her face as he reached closer towards her. She could feel her cheeks heating up as her stomach did continuous somersaults.

Finally, their lips brushed and her eyes fluttered close automatically, the familiar feeling of bliss taking over her once again. He tilted her head ever so slightly to get a better access to her mouth, his tongue gently exploring hers. His mouth tasted so sweet, coating her mouth with chocolate as she let out a soft moan.

The jingling of the bell on the door of the cafe broke them apart, and as the man entered the cafe Y/N felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment as she quickly rubbed off the chocolate from her lips.

She smiled at the customer but stopped short on seeing his face. There was something wrong. She didn’t know whether it was because she saw Taemin tense from the corner of her eyes or it was because she could see the cold murderous look on the man’s face and the uncanny similarity between them, but it was enough to give her a hint that they were in big trouble.

The man came and stood in front of them and let out a huge augh. His eyes were focused on Taemin and he didn't even glance once at her.

"What," he said, his voice livid with anger and hatred, "do you think you are doing?"

Taemin didn't speak.

She looked at him and found him frozen, looking at the ground in fear.

"Do you think it's funny?" His father asked, taking a step closer to him. "That you rush here to this petty shop after school and not to meetings I've been arranging to?"

He still didn't speak. Now his hands were visibly shaking and she quickly stepped towards him to grab his hand and give it a small squeeze.

She wanted to say something, but she was scared too. She could feel the familiar fear of horrible rich men bubbling in her stomach as she tried to think of something to defend him.

"Answer me you stupid worthless boy! You are as dumb as your mother!" He shouted, slamming down his hand on the counter.

"Shut up!" She snapped. She didn't know where this anger came from, but she couldn't stand it anymore. Maybe it was because she had enough of him insulting his son or maybe because she knew he was on purpose getting into a sensitive topic to hurt him more. Her step father used these same methods to hurt her and there was no way she was going to let Taemin feel the same fear and pain.

"Shut up. Can't you see you as hurting him? Why are you so insistent on hurting others?” 

Mr. Lee’s eyes fell on her, it was the first time he was even noticing her. But then he turned back to Taemin.

“And what sort of people are you mixing with? All sorts of scumbags for your girlfriend. I should get rid of her if this kind of trash you are picking up as friends- ”

“No.”

The two of them looked at Taemin in surprise. He was no longer looking at the ground in fear. Instead, he was looking at his father with such cold contempt it felt like the world had frozen.

“No?” His father asked, clearly shocked at this sudden outburst. “What do you mean no?”

She felt Taemin grip her elbows tightly and yank her towards him, as though his father might reach out from the counter and murder her.

“If you touch her,” Taemin whispered, his voice carrying out in the quiet atmosphere, “If you touch her, I swear I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you in the most painful way possible. I’ll kill you in such a way that you forever remember the pain you gave me.”

To this his father smirked in an amused way. Yet, Y/N could see the slight change in his body language. He was scared. He was actually scared that what Taemin said would really happen.

“Suit yourself.” He snickered, before making his way out of the cafe.

The second he was out, she turned towards Taemin alarmed, just as his legs gave away.

“Taemin!” She managed to catch him, as he held onto her as though his life depended on it. She realised she was shaking too and with a little difficulty, she managed to drag his semi limp form to the nearest table and help him on to a chair.

“Taemin. Taemin. Taemin, look at me.” She whispered, as she cupped his face and pressed her forehead against his. She was sure she had managed to stop shaking by now, but she could still feel herself shaking. With a jolt, she realised that it was Taemin who was shaking this badly. 

“Breathe. Taemin, please breathe.” She whispered, trying to hide the panic in her own voice. Slowly, she felt his shaking hands cover hers as his eyes slowly met hers.

“I-I threatened him.” He said, his voice such a low whisper she wouldn’t have been able to hear it if she wasn’t this close to him. “I threatened to kill him-”

She cut him off with a kiss, firmly pressing her lips over his. She kissed him softly, running her hand softly over his face whilst stroking his cheeks with her thumb of the other hand placed on his face.

She felt his hands go around her, pulling her closer towards him. 

“It's okay. You didn’t mean it.” She comforted him. His words had shook her but she knew he never meant anything he ever said.

“He was- was threatening to kill you and I-I got scared-”

“It’s okay.” She whispered, smiling at him hoping he would calm down. “You didn’t mean a thing you said-”

“But I did! I did!” He wailed. “He’s the reason my mother died! I’m not going to just stand and watch him do it to you again-”

“He’s not going to touch you or me.” She cut him off with another kiss. There was no way she was going to let Taemin become a murderer. He was too precious, too untainted and angelic for this harshness. If anything, she was ready to become a murderer for him.

“Can you- can you come home with me?” He whispered. He was still shaking and she could feel her heart ache at the sight of him this shaken and scared.

“Where will your father be?” She asked him gently.

“He doesn’t live here anymore ever since he got a new assistant. I suppose he stays with her more. Can’t bear the sight of me-”

“Hush-” She said, pressing a finger to his lips. “Enough of him. I’ll go home with you. I’ll be with you till the very day you stop needing me or loving me. I’ll be with you till the very end.”

“I’ll never stop loving you.” He whispered.

She smiled at him once more before leaning in for another kiss.

The huge sea of students were pushing her towards the entrance automatically, she didn’t seem to even need to move her feet. Which was a good thing too, because she hadn’t eaten anything except for breakfast at Taemin’s place. The whole day she was worried sick for him. What if his father came home and did something to him?

Taemin had wanted to drop her off to school but his school was in the complete end of hers, in the posher areas and she could see his driver looking annoyed at the thought of driving so much. She also didn't want him to be around her neighbourhood, considering how unsafe it was.

As she walked out of the school gate she expected the crowd to thin out. Instead, she found lots of girls, still standing in front of the gate. Frowning at this, she pushed her way into the crowd once more to see what they were staring and giggling at.

She felt her stomach drop in fear.

Y/N marched angrily towards the very familiar black SUV, grabbing the hand of the boy leaning against the door.

“What are you doing here?” She gritted, angry that he could get hurt. She could already see some men too joining the crowd, trying to get a good look at Taemin. “I told you I will meet you in the cafe-”

“The cafe is closed.” 

She stared at him in shock.

“W-What?”

“My father.” He began, his voice shaking. “Gave me some money and asked me to get out forever from his life.”

“Taem.” Was all she could manage to whisper. What was going to happen to him?

Finally, his eyes met hers and she could see tears in them.

“I don’t want to force you to come with me.” He whispered. “But- but if you come with me, we could start our life together somewhere else. I have enough money to complete both of our education and-”

“I would love to go with you.” She cut him off.

He blinked at her. Slowly, she felt his arms go around her waist.

“Y-You would? I thought, I thought that since both of our parents are abusive and- and- but if you don’t want to-”

“Taemin.” She said firmly. “I promised you I would stay beside you forever. I love you and I can’t let you go away on your own like this.”

She felt him yank her towards him as their lips met in a quick kiss.

“I love you. I love you.” He kept whispering, as she pulled herself away from his grip. Slowly, they got into his car.

“Do you want to make a stop at your house? If you want something like your novel?”

“Oh yes. I would like to take that with me.” She said. He smiled at her, giving her hand a squeeze.

Finally, they reached her house, if it could be called that and the chauffeur stopped the car.

“You wait here.” She said to Taemin as she hopped off the car.

“No wait for me!” He said, jumping out of the car after her.

“Why are you coming in?” She asked. She didn’t want him to go in. She could never trust her family’s rage, especially her step-fathers.

“What if your step father hurts you like last time? I can’t bear to just wait here right?” He grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to him.

“Which is the exact reason you need to stay away! I don’t want you to get hurt-”

“And it's okay for you to get hurt? You think I haven’t faced my fathers wrath and I don’t know how much it hurts?” He asked angrily, not letting go of her hand.

“Taemin.” She said, placing their interlocked fingers on his heart. “Please just stay here. I beg you. I’ll make it out of there unscathed I swear.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but then the chauffeur honked the car. Time was running out, they needed to have the car till their destination.

Quickly she placed a kiss on his soft lips and turned towards her house, running into the shambled building.

As soon as she entered, she was hit by a musty smell. The dim lighting of the room, despite it being still day, made it difficult to see.

Her eyes fell on the bulky man passed out on the sofa, several bottles of drinks littering around him. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at her step father, trying to make her way to her room before she tripped on a bottle she couldn’t see.

The shattering sound of the glass caused the man to jerk up, and she froze in fear as she watched him get up from his drunk sleep, searching for the intruder angrily.

Quickly she picked up the half broken bottle for defence as she straightened up, trying to ignore the stabbing pain on her foot.

“You.” He grunted, as his eyes focused on her. “Where were you yesterday?”

“I’m leaving. Tell mom goodbye.” She ignored his question. Still she didn’t dare to move.

“I asked,” He said threateningly as he got up and stood in front of her. “Where were you yesterday?”

“I’m out of here.” She muttered, trying to move towards her room.

“We tore your silly little book.”

She froze.

“You did what?” She screamed, all of a sudden livid with anger. She was angry. So angry that she felt almost numb.

“Why did you do that?” She screamed again, advancing at him threateningly. Yet, he didn’t seem to even flinch. Instead, he smirked.

He’s drunk. She thought. I should stop, he’s mad. But it was as though her heart had been ripped out. All her pain, emotions, effort and love had been put in the novel. It was a novel about her sad life. Until she met Taemin. But now it was gone. Everything was gone.

“You didn’t come home for two days. What do you think your mother was going to do? Cry about you? She had to teach you a lesson and this is what you get for running away.

“Ahhhh!” She screamed, shoving the broken bottle towards her step-father.

“Y/N no!”

The next few seconds happened so fast that it was completely blurry in her eyes.

One minute she was swinging the bottle at him, and the next minute she felt someone whirl her away from her step-father.

Her eyes widened with horror as they met Taemin’s, but it was too late. The bottle was already deep inside his skin.

She could feel his warm blood trickling onto her hand as they stared at each other in horror. She could hear a whistling in her ear, like the whole world had stopped.

“T-Taemin.” She whispered, as she felt his grip on her shoulders slack. “I-I told you to stay there. I told you-”

“You screamed. I thought-”

His legs gave away and she caught his body with an anguished scream. Y/N cradled his body towards her, pressing his head against her beating heart.

“No, no, what have I done? What have I done? Taemin! Taemin stay with me, I’ll just call the ambulance-”

“I’m sorry.” He choked out. She could feel blood on her neck now. She felt his soft hands hold her wrist and she looked at his face. Hot tears slid down her cheeks as a horrible sensation filled her stomach.

It was like she had been stabbed instead of him.

“I’m sorry I promised a future for us together and I failed-”

“Shut up!” She screamed, the tears falling down fast now. “Shut up! What are you even talking about? Taemin, Taemin please stay with me! I love you.” 

The last few words were whispered through her gritted teeth as she pressed his forehead against hers. She felt his hand slip.

“I love you too.” He whispered, coughing out blood once more.

“No no no.” She moaned, now her tears falling onto his face. “I love you, I love you, please don’t leave me Taemin. I love you so much.”

But the stillness in his body told her otherwise. That he was gone forever.

What a sad story it was, wasn’t it?

All our promises were broken and in the end I did become a murderer. But only…I murdered you. My lover.

I’m sorry it went this way. We could have been more than this, and we could have been with each other forever.

But here I am all alone, unable to even live even one day without thinking about you.

What have you done to me Taemin? What have I done to you? 

No. What have we done to each other?

I miss you so much and I can’t wait to see you again.

Yours Truly, 

Y/N

A/N: Please do tell me what you think about this story!! I worked really hard on it and I would love to know everyone’s thoughts on it~ I loved this fic so so much and I had a great time writing it! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[ticklefits]

AO3 LINK!

final fantasy xv | ignoct | words: 1165 | req from @tickleraptorss​

With no mission to carry out and no leads just yet of where their journey will traverse them next, the squad has settled their bearings in Lestallum, where they’ve agreed to spend the next few nights bunkered down in their local hotel. This was joyous news to both Noctis and Ignis, who’d been itching for warm, comfortable sleeping quarters and some privacy for themselves; no offense to Gladio’s passion for roughing it out in the wild, but Ignis has had quite enough of the larger man’s snoring and more than enough of Prompto’s sleeping squirming. To have Noctis all to himself, and vise versa, was a true gift that he plans on taking full advantage of. 

The pitter patter of rain is a comforting background to the mindless lull of repose shared between the prince and his advisor. Noctis is settled against the width of Ignis’ chest, curled in a cozy, loose ‘c’ next to the taller’s frame. Within one of Ignis’ hands is a mini book that’s captured the majority of his attention, whilst its counterpart partakes in lazy strokes up and down the expanse of Noctis’ back. Tingles dance up and down along the length of his spine with each of the other’s movements, and at first, it’s completely soothing, sluggishly drifting him off towards slumber ⎯ that is, until Ignis decides he wants to feel bare skin and those slender digits snake underneath his shirt. 

“Hhn…” A small, huffy sigh bleeds through his nose, but he remains relaxed for the most part. A few minutes pass and Noctis is teetering on the brim between asleep and awake, and just as he’s about to fully cross over into dreamland, those damned fingers begin to swipe and slide across the dip of his lower back and even go as far as to brush his hip. Now, Noctis is awake. He’s awake and fighting back the urge to giggle into the fabric of Ignis’ shirt, because no, it does not tickle, and the last thing he desires is for Ignis to believe that it does. A single eyelid raises and steals a glance up towards his boyfriend, who doesn’t seem to be paying him much mind, still absorbed by whatever is in the contents of that book. 

The prince falls for the mistake of relaxing once again, because as soon as he closes his eyes and sinks back into Ignis, he’s got those fingers playing at his skin again; and what’s worse? He’s drawing aimless little circles and patterns, and moving to further spaces. It’s becoming increasingly hard to delay the giggles that have bubbled up from his chest, on top of being sleepy and forced awake by the ticklish sensations. He’s even beginning to squirm just a little bit here and there, and when Ignis accidentally strokes over a particularly sensitive area that’s just above where Noctis’ back dip starts, a tiny whine leaks free from between his lips and he can feel the other’s actions cease. 

Shit. 

Ignis’ gaze is only on him for a moment, brow rising quizzically, as if pondering the reason why Noctis produced such a sound. It’s true that he was thoroughly engaged in his story, but after a second of contemplation, it comes so clearly. He retains a poker face however, and pretends as though he didn’t just hear his prince expose his ticklishness; this new situation will grant him miles more entertainment than his book. Noctis nearly jolts as those fingers re-animate and return to dancing over the sensitive skin of his lower back, but god, it feels different now.. More deliberate? 

The chef’s definitely digging a little bit more than he was earlier and those previously smooth, airy strokes have evolved into something closer to little kneads and rolls against his skin, and oh my god, does it tickle way worse now. At this point, Noctis is definitely squirming, lips twitching up at the corners despite how much he’s battling against the laughter building up within him. Ignis shifts his arm so that it coils around the smaller male, keeping him close and taut to his own body while continuing to now, purposefully tickle him. 

“Ig⎯Ignihihis⎯” A giggle of the other’s name breaks free and Noctis instantly regrets speaking at all, because as soon as Ignis takes note of that damn giggle, he sets the book down to the bedside table and circulates so that he’s facing Noctis a little better. 

“Yes?” The tone of his response is almost coy, as if he still hasn’t any idea of what he’s doing to his love. The other hand comes slithering forth and settles on Noctis’ front, dishing out spidery tickles to his stomach that not only fully awaken the prince, but ignite a burst of giggles and full bodied wriggling from him. 

“Ihihihihignihihihs⎯! Nohohoho! Plehehehease!” His pleas are fractured by his laughter that ascends in pitch when Ignis’ fingers begin to migrate between stomach and ribs and the digits torturing his back haven’t let up on their assault either. He’s caught between a rock and a hard place, his own hands gripping onto Ignis’ wrists in an attempt to force those deadly fingers off of him, which only makes Ignis dig in harder and worsen the sensitivity of his skin. 

“No? I’m afraid you’ll have to speak coherently, your highness, I can’t understand you with all of that laughing.” Noctis’ cheeks light up with a soft shade of pink, attempting to send a glare at Ignis, but all Ignis equates him to is a flustered, angry kitten. 

“StaAHAHahp⎯! I⎯I mehehehehean ihihihit!” Tears sting at the corners of his squeezed shut eyes, his body quickly losing its strength to fight back and slowly growing pliant against the sheets. 

“Is that order?” There’s a teasing depth to Ignis’ voice that creates another flare of a blush upon Noctis’ cheeks, but he’s very quick to nod almost too vigorously, clenching down on his teeth to will his laughter down and permit him to properly speak. 

“YehehEHEHES! Thahaha⎯Thahahat’s an order!” The magic words were spoken and so it shall be; Ignis finally halts all of his fingers’ movements and gently removes them from his boyfriend, who in turn goes limp against the bed, panting for oxygen. 

“That was enjoyable.” It’s the casual manner in which he says it that has Noctis glaring at him once again, but the grin half cocked along his lips is evidence enough that he agrees with Ignis’ appraisal. 

“Ass.” Comes the playful insult as Noctis moves to sit up for a moment, granting the taller a soft peck on the lips before he returns to laying into him. “As punishment for your crimes, you have to provide me with body heat while I nap.” 

Ignis nearly allowed a laugh of his own right then and there; spoken like a true cat. But he does as requested, holding Noctis within the confines of his arms while the prince finally lulls off to sleep, uninterrupted by wandering fingers.

[ramblingguy54]

True Colors: An Emotionally Fantastic Serious Game Changer.

If we’re to look back at Reunion as Season 1′s dramatic pay off for Amphibia’s message of toxic friendships, as Anne & Sasha’s conflicting dynamic showed us, then True Colors is a colossal expansive note on this big theme of the series. True Colors makes Season 1′s finale look like a walk in the park for what angst goes down between our three main heroins in Season 2′s climatic resolution. Everything that can go wrong does go oh so painfully wrong for these three kids. Anne, to no one’s surprise, gets double crossed by Sasha leaving things between them a Hell of a lot more bitter than they were previously, as if that couldn’t already be topped when Sasha tried to kill the Plantars before. Anne has had enough of her lies and manipulation not being afraid to tell Sasha straight up how awful of a friend she’s been in general, even hitting her where it hurts most of all saying, “No, I’m done listening to you! I’m done trusting you! You’re a horrible person and I am done being FRIENDS with you!”, going so far as to get a shaken reaction out of Sasha dropping her brave face act, making this girl try to wipe away the frog family.

Right off the bat, True Colors makes it highly evident this isn’t just another story of stopping a bigger threat, but one hitting much closer to home, overall. Yes, King Andrias is certainly a dangerous villain, who makes his presence and intimidating nature known to the others by True Color’s final act, which despite this Amphibia isn’t entirely putting him at the forefront, rather focusing on a more intimate study of Anne, Sasha, and Marcy’s big emotional conflict. This finale knows exactly where to put its focus of importance on, so I love that instead of it being action packed we’re getting the spotlight shined on just how screwed up these three of a friendship have, in spite of Marcy claiming in The Dinner episode, “We’re supposed to be friends for life. We don’t split up!’ . Very ironic stuff right there, indeed.

True Colors’ most powerful strength it adds to Amphibia’s ongoing profound story about healthy friendships is the thorough deconstruction of these girls defined “ideal relationship” as people. Before Anne came to the world of Amphibia this kid was afraid to stand up for what she believed in, even knowing especially well that stealing the calamity box was morally questionable, but did it anyway. Sasha was super manipulative, abusive, and used her power to control people, like she did a lot of toward Anne in their lives. Marcy, while very smart, wasn’t the most competent physically, who soon grew into being more independent without needing to rely on Anne always having to be there for her. These three were changed immensely by the events of being thrust into this world of sentient amphibian creatures. Anne benefited morally most out out of all three in taking up the mantle of responsibility and ironing out her own issues. She’s become a much stronger person all around. 

This episode asks us an important question though in nutshell with, “Have Sasha & Marcy truly changed for the better?”, since Anne has reached a point in her arc feeling genuinely content with who she’s become and the bonds that have been made with the Plantar family shown most notably with Sprig Plantar. Hence the whole purpose behind the song, It’s No Big Deal, with Anne feeling proud for who she is, yet not noticing a bigger issue right underneath her nose. That previous episode was meant to bring Anne’s happiness up only to bring it all crashing down in a devastating display of new revelations in True Colors. Every dramatic emotional beat isn’t just earned. Each significant moment is completely knocked out of the park by terrific voice acting, beautiful animation, and music composition that gave me serious emotional goosebumps. True Colors did exactly as Not What He Seems accomplished for Gravity Falls in shaking up its own respective dramatic stakes just when you thought it couldn’t get any higher for these protagonists. Shit seriously hits the fan here.

Did it ever occur to you, Anne? Sasha? That one of you knew more, than she was letting on? That ONE of you might’ve gotten you stranded in Amphibia on purpose...?

The big bombshell twist of Marcy playing a part too in getting them into this whole debacle completely flips everything upside down. Sasha pushed Anne into taking the Calamity Box, yes, but if Marcy never sent that photo because of her desire to stay with them together forever, then they wouldn’t have been stranded in basically a world full of dangerous creatures and who knows what else. Easily my favorite part of the episode, considering it adds more nuance to a situation that defined Amphibia’s story. It wasn’t just one person’s fault at the end of the day. Sasha bullied Anne into taking the box, Anne didn’t put her foot down to make a stand for something morally questionable, and Marcy took advantage of them both to benefit her own selfish desires for supposedly a “happy ending” not involving them staying apart, due to her parents moving away for a new job. All three girls played an important part on why they got landed into Amphiba. It’s why Anne’s statement to King Andrias, “The three of us may have made some mistake, but you...You’re evil and I’m gonna stop you!”, holds such a real weight to it, as this story continues to solidify how genuinely fleshed out their dynamic is.

Marcy’s super desperate plea to be understood by Anne & Sasha when Andrias revealed her getting them thrown into Amphibia purposefully was hard to watch. On one hand, I felt for Marcy because she didn’t want real life circumstances to tear apart that close connection she had to Sasha & Anne. Sure, she could’ve just kept in touch with them over the phone or chatting online, too. However, Marcy had known them since very early childhood. When you’ve been so attached to someone it can be a devastating thing, depending on just how vulnerable you are emotionally, to start drifting apart. Marcy represents that embodiment of toxic need for togetherness and couldn’t bear to let a possibility, like moving away, throw a wrench into her happiness and friendship, as well.

Never mind Marcy wanting to stay permanently in a different reality, rather than face her’s, but it made this person feel like something more. It gave her a chance to feel truly special in being able to live out a fantasy dream of having such power and freedom that a kid, like herself, couldn’t have had. The freedom to know she is plenty capable of making it out there on her own without Anne having to watch this kid like a hawk. So, to have someone, or something, try taking it away from her terrified Marcy of facing a terrible truth. That she isn’t strong enough after all to live a life without Anne & Sasha by her side completely, where Marcy will never feel truly worthy enough to blossom into her own person. It’s why that line, “I just...didn’t want to be alone...”, carries such a deep pain to it all. Marcy just crumbles into pieces accepting her greatest weakness. As much as Marcy fumbled the ball big time, it’s so easy to empathize with her on the idea of feeling competent enough. Marcy never meant to hurt Anne or Sasha, but the sad crushing punchline is she very much did.

Speaking of which, Anne had every right to be upset and mad, obviously. Anne has been missing so many things from her life before everything went off the wall. Hopping Mall especially highlighted Anne’s emotional desire to give anything just to hear her mother’s singing again. This teenager has been really dealing with a lot of grief in general quite honestly. Anne got into a high stakes battle against Sasha to save new friends, who’d practically became like an adopted family, which left the poor girl traumatized and heartbroken over the end result. She thought finding Marcy would help compensate for it and eventually be able to mend those complications with Sasha to boot. It’s simply painful to see it all blow up in Anne’s face to know not only Sasha betrayed her trust yet again, but realizing Marcy also played a part of responsibility in getting them thrown here. Matt Braly really just decided to slap future trust issues onto Anne finding out Hop Pop, Sasha, and Marcy were all super dishonest in their intentions at one point or another. Damn, I feel so bad for her.

It makes their embracing hug back in Marcy At The Gates so much harder to watch. Anne was super glad to see her again. Anne had wondered what became of Marcy or even possibly started to think she could even be alive at all. Then come to find out later on Marcy having intentionally ripped her away from a normal life must’ve felt worse then what happened with Sasha. Anne, already done with all of Sasha’s bullshit, thought she could at least expect better from Marcy not letting her down, but that too wasn’t the case. Marcy is very much as flawed as Sasha in what she has done. To think, Anne wanted so badly to get back home, yet she’s staring the very person dead in the eye, who ripped her away from it to begin with. Marcy knew Sasha would talk Anne into taking the box from that thrift shop, even if she wasn’t completely certain it would successfully teleport them away. Regardless of whatever good intentions someone can have in why they did what they did, it still doesn’t absolve them of said mistake. Fact of the matter is, Marcy tragically made her own bed, by choosing to mess with forces she couldn’t begin to comprehend and now has to face consequences, in spite of her not deserving them.

What really got to me was when Marcy tried to spin around Anne’s personal growth and close friendship with the Plantars as all entirely thanks to her. When she said, “I gave you this! I gave you everything!”, I was like, “Nope, that couldn’t be any further from the truth.”, seeing everything that has culminated in Anne’s journey of bettering herself. Marcy didn’t give Anne anything, but a one way ticket to cutting the kid off from her family, presuming she’d be fine with this idea. It’s all kinds of messed up, however what it boils down to is Marcy undermining Anne’s independence and agency. Anne’s moral judgement in decision making was what allowed her to create this new life she made for herself in Amphibia. Anne’s honesty as a whole led her down a path of togetherness, while Marcy’s lying landed her in a result of not wanting to be alone, costing her so much.

“I don’t believe this. We were so focused on each other we couldn’t see what was right in front of us!”

True Colors excels at earning each of its emotional beats because they line up with character motivations down to the last letter. Anne doesn’t want to trust Sasha anymore because of their already rocky past, which leads to her helping King Andrias regain control of his kingdom. Sasha not keeping a lid on her temper, wanting to rule over Amphibia, and trying to reinforce that power dynamic with Anne & Marcy only made things worse for her image of a changed good friend. There wasn’t a chance in Hell Anne would hear Sasha’s reasoning after she flat out tried to take away her frog family, by attempting to use the Calamity Box a bit ago in the episode. Marcy wanted to believe there was a happily ever after in seeing this world traveling idea as their only chance for salvation as friends for life, but it turned out to be something much more sinister, when learning of Andrias’ backstory and his true scumbag nature. All three of their motivations come clashing together, blinding them from a much bigger danger. Something that effectively puts everyone at stake.

Amphibia’s Season 2 finale works so excellently, given it covers important dramatic elements it’s been stirring around since Season 1′s early rumblings. Amphibia is a story centered around people’s need for emotional connections. True Colors builds miraculously off what Reunion already did quite well in showing friendships can become rough and they are never easy to deal with. When you have to make a stand it can be a tough pill to swallow on the reality check of maybe this “good friend” of your’s isn’t as nice as you previously thought them to be. Anne having been hurt one too many times now by her former friend sends that message close to home, so much so even Sasha begins to question her morality as a human being. It poignantly encapsulates how this trio’s complex friendship is a serious growing issue needing to be reexamined, overall.

What if Anne’s right..? What if I am a horrible person...?

Something I absolutely love to pieces about True Colors, also a testament to Season 2′s darn good writing, is how much introspective we get from each character on what they’re feeling. We’ve seen plenty of Sasha’s vulnerability before in other episodes centered on her issues, but now we’re getting to the root of it. Sasha is really taking everything more to heart, little by little. Sasha’s understanding what kind of an effect she has on people, seeing the damage it has caused made evident by Percy and Braddock in Barrel’s Warhammer. Grime once told her, “Some dreams have a price and not everyone is willing to pay it.”, where she’s questioning that idealism every passing minute the invasion plan proceeds further into reaching success. Sasha isn’t sure what to do with herself anymore feeling aimless. Those previous episodes had a real impact on her priorities more than she cared to let on with Sasha’s typical tough girl act. This kid has let her guard down more, which scares and confuses Sasha. She’s always used to playing the role of protector it contradicts everything Sasha stands for when the roles are totally reversed because now Anne has made her feel the tremendous change in their growth as individuals.

Sasha’s lifestyle has been all about control that after somewhat learning to be more considerate to Anne & Marcy’s feelings she feels beyond conflicted about what truly matters to her. The most screwed up part of it all is Sasha didn’t want to fight anymore, taking up a pacifist approach after seeing what King Andrias had been hiding from everyone. It’s a fitting punishment for Sasha to try bringing Anne over to work together once more, but getting her pleas for companionship outright ignored. Anne was correct that Sasha had wasted all the chances to be reasonable. Boonchuy tried to hear out Sasha before at The Third Temple. One wanted to start things over again to iron out their serious issues, but the other was driven by bitterness, while only remorseful to a degree at best, of seeing their once weak friend become so independent, mature, and stronger that it drove her up wall. Sasha wanted to take away that “problem” being the Plantars, since in her eyes they’re the source of Anne’s strength, driving a wedge further between the two girls in their heated Reunion 2.0 battle.

True Colors demonstrates the horrific price of no trust, communication, nor teamwork from the three main girls that Andrias smoothly took advantage of, as if they were fiddles. 

“That’s the thing about friends isn’t it? The more you love them, the more it hurts when they go.”

King Andrias is quite literally what I wanted Lunaris to be, where DuckTales’ Season 2 finale didn’t impress me on doing. He’s a serious big baddie to the main cast, who follows through on his threats of violence to demonstrate his wide array of arsenal and power. Andrias doesn’t just emotionally manipulate characters, like poor Marcy, but utterly crush them without an ounce of remorse for his actions. When he dropped Sprig out that window after Anne willingly let him have the Calamity Box back I thought they were legit gonna kill this boy off. The way Anne’s flashback montage of her good times with Sprig were eerily shot really didn’t help either on that note. Anne’s Calamity power finally activating is easily up there among stuff, like Dewey risking his life for Della’s disappearance in Last Crash, where the cinematography is shot and animated brilliantly. You feel Anne’s blind raging sadness in every hit she landed on those robots and Andrias. If anyone didn’t believe Sprig was like a little brother to Anne, then I dunno how anyone couldn’t view their bond anymore as such after this hugely defining scene. Anne went bloodthirsty when she believed Sprig to be dead further evidenced when she hugged him in relief afterwards exclaiming, “Sprig!? You’re alive!? Oh, thank goodness...”, which cuts deep so damn much.

Anne was ready to fight every one of Andrias’ troops in that castle to the death, if need be. Before Sprig came back from falling, thanks to Marcy’s quick acting, to comfort Anne, her only goal was to slaughter every opponent in that throne room, along with making Andrias pay dearly for even daring to lay a single finger on anyone of the Plantars. I’m not gonna lie, this pivotal power up reminded me so much Gohan turning Super Saiyan 2 after Cell curb stomped Android 16 into pieces with a smirk on his face. Anne Boonchuy’s maddening outburst is a classic testament to the idea of, “Piss off the nicest person and they’ll make it their mission to instill the biggest kind of fear/terror into you.”. showing this kid at her most vulnerable mental state, yet. Sprig & Anne’s cathartic embrace really messed me up in reinforcing just how these two respect, love, and would go above any of their limitations to help the other out. Sprig’s “death” scene was a masterful bait by the writers into making us think someone was gonna die and it was gonna be a poor kid, no less.  

However, it was actually all just a bait and switch for the real, “Oh, shit. They really just did that”, moment with Marcy unexpectedly getting run through with Andrias’ gigantic sword. In a last ditch effort, Marcy wanted to atone for what she had a hand in getting them all into. Marcy was ironclad determined in making her own stand for what was right trying to save the people she endangered. Akin to what Sasha did in Reunion for saving Anne’s life, Marcy does the exact same here. Although, unfortunately this time, no one is here to protect Marcy from escaping death, like Grime catching Sasha from plummeting at Toad Tower. Marcy couldn’t react in time because she was so focused on helping her dear friends out. She wanted to prove to herself at least one time, “I’ve screwed up so much stuff with my friends. Maybe, just maybe. If I get my friends back home, it’ll prove I’m not an entirely crappy person for setting these events into motion.”. Marcy’s own deep seeded remorse is what saved Anne & the Plantars, while being the cause of her own untimely demise at Andrias’ hands.

This scene is what no doubt encouraged the warning sign for younger viewers Disney decided to make for them. It’s impressive how far Matt and his crew are willing to go for intense dramatic content. Andrias trying to crush Polly with his fist after destroying Frobo with casual ease, dropping Sprig out of the window from up sky high, and stabbing Marcy with his powerful sword displays his cold blooded brutality. Doesn’t matter who you are. If you get in the way of Andrias’ plans for multiverse domination, then he’ll throw anyone into their own grave, be it man, woman, or child. That’s the mark of a truly terrifying antagonist.

Andrias didn’t care who had to be hurt or manipulated to get back the box, so he could invade other worlds with Earth being his next prime target for invasion. Marcy’s fate is a horrifyingly poetic statement, since Sasha stated to Anne in a flashback from Marcy At The Gates, “One of these days, she’s gonna get herself killed.”, with True Colors tying back to this line in a disturbing manner. Something that sends chills down my spine is we get to see the full extent of how far Andrias shoved the sword through her body. We don’t just see the entry point of where it hit her, but it even zooms out to show the whole thing. Real talk, I got serious Avatar The Last Airbender vibes from this scene. Reminded me so much of Aang getting suddenly zapped with lightning by Azula when he tried to enter the Avatar state. Marcy didn’t want to be alone so badly she ended up inevitably dying alone trying to send Anne back home to their reality. One Hell of a way to close off Marcy’s last moments in Season 2, until her inevitable resurrection happens in Season 3 now that King Andrias has her in a tube tank that looks tied to his master.

True Colors ends on a deeply bittersweet cliffhanger leaving the fates of Sasha & Grime totally unknown if they’ll get away by the skin of their teeth, or get captured by Andrias’ soldiers and robots. Anne finally returned home with the Plantars, but at a deadly cost of leaving her other close friends behind in Amphibia. After all the isolation, heartbreak, and endurance she went through with her frog family Anne finds herself at a total loss for words. Once again, Anne is in a state of solitude of not knowing if her friends are really okay or not, mirroring the start of Season 1 when she landed into Amphibia’s world. It’s safe to say to say that, “Finally me and it’s no big deal.”, lyrics have aged terribly for Anne’s realization of finding her own identity came at the expense of getting separated from friends she’s known since kindergarten. Definitely see Anne becoming a lot more protective of the Plantars now more than ever after watching Marcy drop to the ground from being stabbed in front of her eyes.

Amphibia’s Season 2 finale is exactly how you capitalize on a winning story telling formula of dramatic writing, lovable characters with layered depth, and increasing the stakes of your story in an organic manner. True Colors is a finale that should be talked about for a long time to come, as it not only showed how worth the wait it was, but reinforces why Amphibia is a truly great series. It’s unafraid to take its characters to dark places in a way that feels totally earned.

Amphibia Season 2 is everything a sequel to a first film should be.

[yongiefilms]

FILM | Flickering

BASED ON | The bingo collaboration feature done by legendnct studios

PRODUCED BY | “Whatever goes around eventually comes back to you. So you gotta be careful, baby,” from After The Storm by Kali Uchis (feat. Tyler, The Creator and Booty Colins) ; “Don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms,” from Slow Dancing In the Dark by Joji ; “Baby, I’m afraid to fall in love. ‘Cause what if it’s not reciprocated?” from Honestly by Pink Sweat$

STARRING | Lee Taeyong and Female Reader

FEATURING | Jung Jaehyun, Lee Mark, Lee Jeno, Nakamoto Yuta, Suh Johnny, and Xiao Dejun

GENRE | Romance, Drama, Teen, Angst, Fluff, Slowburn, College, and Frat boy Centred

RATING | PG-13

WARNINGS | Thematic elements, some action, crude humor, mentions of: alcohol, drinking, smoking, anxiety, panic attacks, and heartbreak, excessive partying, stupid college shenanigans, suggestive references, language, and adult themes

PLOT | You were unlucky when it came to love. You fell too fast and gave too much. Though as often as you experienced misfortune, you never truly learned your lesson. However, entering college you knew it would be different, it had to be. No more chasing after infatuation that you perceived to be love, but when you came across him, you knew it would be harder than you anticipated. He drew you in with his alluring aura and made you curious, something that would drive you to seek after someone who didn’t want to be found. Yet as many say, curiosity kills the cat, and one wrong move was all it took. OR He was a fleeting moment, a mere second of time that didn’t last too long.

RUNNING TIME | 29k words

1, 2, 3 NOW ROLLING...

“Okay…Be honest, does this dress make me look like shit?” 

Your best friend, who was perched on your bed some several feet over to where you stood in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, rolled her eyes and let out a scoff, lifting her head up from peering down at her cell phone screen. She knew the question was ridiculous and had no direction because you were beautiful, something no one would deny. Her eyes moved up and down your figure to conduct a proper inspection of you and the dress that hugged your body. Her gaze was borderlining a glare once she was done. She was right, as she always tended to be.

She huffed out a breath, leaning her hands behind her on the soft comforter that laid over your bed and tilted her head to the side. “You can’t be serious. You literally look stunning.”

You flatten your palms against the front of your black satin mini dress, confirming you appeared to be as good as you could possibly be with no wrinkles in sight. “All right, I just have to make sure.”

She scoffed yet again as you twirled around in front of the mirror with a smile on your face, your eyes lighting up with excitement for what would soon come.

But the thrill in your veins subdued as you gave her a pointed stare. “Also just because you’re my hype woman and number one fan, doesn’t mean you can’t tell me like it is.”

She stood up from her position on the bed and made her way over to where you stood, her red stilettos clicking against the vivid brown wood. She placed her hands on your shoulders to smoothen the material of your dress and gave you another once over for good measure.

“Yes I am aware, but you should know by now that I never lie.” Her nose scrunched up the tiniest bit as she showcased her pearly whites. “But seriously,” she stepped back from you, letting her hands drop to her sides. “Can we go now? You take forever to get ready and I just want to go have some fun.” She whined and it was now your turn to roll your eyes at her behavior. She was just as excited as you were, though your ability to mask your emotions was far better than hers. Going to your first college party was enough cause to be eager, surely. 

“Yes we can go now, drama queen.”

She gave a slight glare in your direction at the mention of the nickname, but you laughed it off, loving to tease her as much as she loved to tease you before continuing.

“Anyways let me grab my phone and purse first.”

She nodded her head, and walked out of your bedroom towards the living room area to wait for you, her mobile phone tightly grasped in her left hand with her car keys looped around her index finger.

Once you grabbed your own charged cell phone off the nightstand and placed it in your purse, swinging the strap over your shoulder, you switched the lights off to exit your room.

“Got it!” You exclaimed as you reached her figure leaning against the wall opposite of the front door. You grabbed the sleek doorknob and opened the door, ushering her out as you followed suit.

She smirked at you once you locked the door and placed the key in your bag.

She swung her car keys around her index finger, the metal imprinting her palm when she caught them. “Time for the real fun to begin.”

Then you were off towards your destination, her behind the wheel driving, and you in the passenger seat, the wind blowing against both of your faces from the rolled down windows. The music was blaring from the radio speaker and you giggled amongst yourselves, lip-synching the lyrics to the songs that were your favorites. The adrenaline was pumping through your veins, causing a rush and the unknowns of the night spoke wonders.

If only it was real fun when you arrived at the expanse of the Nu Chi Tau frat house, or more commonly known as NCT around campus. There were already people there, covering the gigantic front yard with red solo cups in hand and flashy attire, but it wasn’t the sparkles of the glitter nor the drunken state of the people that caught your attention, it was something more magnificent. 

The residence that stood before you mimicked one you would only see in the movies. A perfectly mowed green lawn with assorted scrubs encompassed the front yard, leading up to the stairs of the entryway. When you walked ahead you saw everything in clearer light. The house was a few stories high, painted a stark white that stood out in the background of the increasing night. The front lights were on, casting ill-lit shadows that danced against the concrete and some windows glowed the same color, giving evidence that those rooms were filled with occupants at the moment. There was an archway with columns to the side that protruded from the front of the house, as the rest of the habitation was left in the shade. The Greek letters for Nu Chi Tau were nailed on the archway in black and as you neared closer to the front doors, you could make out the words NCT engraved in golden script. You were mesmerized to say the least, the house was beyond beautiful and you pondered how it still looked relatively new in comparison to the other bland frat and sorority houses you had come across. Although, you would have been more in awe if your feet weren’t killing you in that present moment.

When Nicole turned onto the street that would lead the two of you to the frat house, you both had noticed how filled the street was with cars for miles. You had assumed it was most likely due to the party, or the fact that the road was so very narrow, swindling like a wave that made it hard for others to park. Yet regardless of the reason, it is where your dilemma began, for she had to park in the nearest open space, which would be some blocks down from where you needed to be. 

Therefore that is how you both ended up wending your way to the frat house that was so conveniently located at the end of the narrow street, and on top of a hill no less, making matters worse. 

You don’t know how long it took you to arrive, but you had calculated around thirty minutes give or take other technicalities. You were glad you made it all in one piece even if the adrenaline in your veins departed and the light in your eyes dimmed, yet you would still try to have the time of your life.

Your hand gripped the golden handle of the front door and turned, pushing it wider with ease to welcome the even more impressive interior as you strode in with Nicole hot on your trail.

The white painted walls, crystal chandelier, golden swirls on the columns, and the spiraling staircase would have blinded you if it had not been encompassed by the dark, the only light emitting from surrounding rooms and the sporadic flashes of color.

You heard a groan from behind you, jerking you out of the blue.

“Ah fuck…fuck…fuck…fuck. My feet are dead.”

You spun around to see Nicole, struggling to take off her stilettos in quick movements, as you could indisputably make out the redness around the heel of her foot and toes. Her drastic measures were a sight that made it difficult to suppress your giggles.

She heaved a loud sigh from successfully getting her stilettos off and hooked the straps over her two fingers, the footwear dangling from her hand when she stood up straight.

She locked her eyes with yours, puffing out air and a lock of hair that fell in her face amidst her conflict. “I need a drink.”

Your subdued titters came out as you nodded your head in agreement. You both needed some energy after the long dreaded walk and what better way than to drink some alcohol. 

Nicole led the way, brushing up against the loads of people that crowded the foyer, not even managing to mumble a single excuse me, but that’s how she was, especially when she needed to get buzzed. After steering through countless throngs of people, you being the one to mutter apologies, you both had arrived at the kitchen. It was as modern as the rest of the house, with the subtle hints of Roman and Greek roots. The appliances were just as pale as the walls, giving off the illusion that nothing appeared to be present, howbeit the only contrast was the black buckets on the countertops and the black bar stools that were placed near the aisle along with the golden lighting fixtures floating above. Not to mention the various silver tin kegs that were located around the kitchen and the bar, which you passed on the way here, not worth the wait for the drinks the two of you desperately needed. 

The kitchen wasn’t nearly as crowded as the rest of the house, withal there were just some scarce students waiting around, refilling their cups, or grabbing a new drink altogether.

Nicole unhands her stilettos on the white marble floor, the bright red color vaguely resembling smeared blood on a snowy surface, before sinking down at one of the free stools and placing her hand in the black bucket to pull out a beer. Conveniently it was a twist off and in mere instances she took large gulps of the brown liquid, finishing the bottle in one go, not bothering to wait for you to have your own bottle in hand.

She licked her lips and elevated her empty beer bottle out to you. “Cheers my love!” She gave a lazy grin and a smile slipped onto your face. “And shit that beer wasn’t strong enough, I need an actual drink.”

You laughed at her as she stood up and rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchen, on the desperate search for some secret stash. You took the empty seat next to the previously occupied one, and placed your purse on the counter, resting your cheek on your knuckles, waiting to see if she had struck lucky.

“Ah!” she suddenly proclaimed, reaching up on her tippy toes to grab the translucent liquid bottle that was placed on the top shelf. Her fingertips barely touched the tall glass, even so she managed to grab it to some shock, her feet being firmly planted on the tile when she had it in her grasp.

She closed the cabinet door and turned with a crude smirk on her face, hiding the bottle behind her back.

“Guess what they were stashing away?”

Your eyes went wide as you dropped the hand that held the weight of your head to your lap. You were curious but also slightly scared at how the smirk on her face grew. It couldn’t be good.

“Um…” you trailed off, placing your hands on the cool marble countertops. You had no idea.

“Those bastards,” she swore, taking the bottle out from behind her to shake it from side to side as you squint your eyes to get a good look at the label. Though you didn’t have to for she told you herself.

“They stored away Balkan 176 Vodka. Who the fuck does that? Like share you greedy, motherfuckers.”

She placed the tall bottle on the countertop, reaching over to the stack of red and blue solo cups that were near the buckets and pulled out two empty cups.

Your eyes got wider at the realization because no way they had Balkan 176 Vodka, it was the strongest in the United Kingdom market with an alcohol by volume of 88%. 

How did they manage to get a hold of it? 

The damn vodka even has thirteen health warnings on the label.

What the hell are they doing in this house?

You heard the pop of the bottle cap and the echoing sound of the liquid being poured into the two cups, interrupting you out of your thoughts.

Nicole held out the blue solo cup to you, jerking her chin out as a form of encouragement to take the cup from her.

With shaking hands, you reach forward, wrapping your hands around the cup.

You knew you would be wasted beyond belief if she poured a lot of the vodka and you only hoped she didn’t, even if your alcohol tolerance was relatively high.

She bumped her plastic cup with yours, murmuring lowly, “Cheers,” and proceeded to down the vodka in one go as you reciprocated the action.

The clear liquid stung in your throat and you could feel a tingling sensation erupt on your tongue. You shook your head to get rid of the feeling and closed your eyes, scrunching up your nose as if it would somehow help extinguish the burn.

Some tears escaped your eyes and through your blurry vision you saw Nicole step away from the counter, shaking her hands out in front of her with her head tilted towards the ceiling.

“Ah shit that burns…” She let out a few coughs, wiping the back of her hand over her lips. “But it feels great.” She puts her hands on her hips and gives you a wide teary eyed smile when she looks over at you.

You cough yourself before giving her an eye roll, placing two fingers on your temples and giving a soft rub to the skin to guarantee you won’t get a headache.

“You’re crazy, you know that right?”

She walked around the counter to where you sat, as you peered up at her, dropping your hands.

She leaned forward to whisper in your ear rather loudly in order to be heard, “Go big or go home baby.”

You placed your hand on her shoulder and gave her a small push, her giggles standing out despite the music resounding in the other room.

Then her giggles ceased and she stared straight ahead, a blank look overtaking her face, her mouth slightly opening.

Your eyebrows scrunched together. “Hey Nicole?” You asked, raising your butt off the seat to poke at her shoulder.

Her body swayed to the left then right before she shook her head and came out of her trance.

She stumbled over her footing as she tried to move forward and pick up her discarded stilettos off the tile to put them on.

“Nicole!” you called as she prowled forward once she tied the ends of the felt, discrediting the fact that you were still there, but your loud voice caught her attention for her head jolted back to peek over her shoulder to where you still sat.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath and pivoted on her heel to go back to where she once was.

“Sorry, sorry love,” she spoke in a rushed manner, fixing her gaze over her shoulder every so often as she shook her head once more. “I just saw some really freaking hot guy and I just—”

You cut her off, knowing where this would lead to. You gave her a small smile of empathy and encouragement. “It’s okay Nicki. Go get some.”

You lightly gave her a push as she staggered forward. Your smile had morphed into a subtle smirk and she laughed at your eagerness for her.

“Oh I will and make sure to get some for yourself too.” She turned around to give you a wink and a peck on the crown of your head, waving goodbye once she pivoted on her heel to presumably stride over to the boy in question.

The kitchen connected to a small dining space that a handful of students were occupying, having conversations with drinks in hand and you just so happened to be in luck for there wasn’t an enormous wave of people, making it easy to see who caught Nicole’s eye.

You followed her figure of a ruby red strapless dress that stood out amongst the neutral tones of the other attire, to where she had passed by a boy with washed out blonde hair, who so happened to be having a conversation to two other girls. He was adorned in a black crisp button up shirt that was folded up to the elbows, with two buttons undone at the top to showcase a bit of chest. You could catch a glimpse of the light reflecting off the silver necklace that peeked out from under his shirt, which was tucked into a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, contrasting his white vans. He took a sip from his red solo cup, letting out a laugh at something one of the girls said, allowing his perfect set of teeth to be seen as his head leaned back. He had a defined jawline and strong eyebrows that looked even better than anyone else’s in hindsight. Nicole really had gotten lucky and when she brushed her shoulder against his, muttering a sorry under her breath, his eyes had followed after her when she moved away.

He apologized to the other girls and quickly whipped his head around to see where Nicole had disappeared to, realizing she starkly could be seen ready to turn the corner to go to another room. His feet made hast as he was hot on her trail and when you saw him loosely latch his hand onto her wrist to turn her around to face him, you knew she would get even luckier. With her sultry gaze and his flirty smile there was no doubt in your mind.

They vanish from sight moments after for he was ready to whisk her away to the second floor with his arm wrapped around her waist and her hand wrapped around his bicep, whispering in his ear.

Lucky indeed.

You turned away after observing them and sighed loudly, swishing the already nonexistent liquid in your cup. You knew it would be possible to find a boy to spend the rest of night with amongst countless that were available to you, natheless you couldn’t help to feel like you didn’t have the desire to “get some” for a particular reason.

So you heaved yourself off the bar stool, too afraid if you hung around in one area for too long someone would surely make a move to hit on you. You weren’t in the mood for company exuding testosterone and cockiness. You weren’t in the mood for assholes.

You poured some more of the hell vodka into your empty cup to give you something to hold onto when you explored the house. You also made sure to grab your purse off the stool, swearing under your breath that you should have just left it in the car and put your cell phone along with keys in your bra like Nicole had done. Sometimes your level of intellect astounded you.

With a cup in hand and purse slung over your shoulder you made your way around the house, bypassing time without any one thing in mind, hoping to see if you could catch your best friend amidst the large gatherings of people, something that most likely seemed impossible. Yet impossible had a good chance as any to become possible too.

You didn’t know how long you had been moving, probably already circled the whole first floor various times, since the remaining floors were closed off for members of the frat. Time went by faster when you were trying to kindly reject offers of those that made an effort to ask you to dance or if you wanted another drink.

Only then is when you saw him—a glimpse of a boy you once knew when you stopped at the bar for a rest.

He looked the same as he did ever since the start of summer, the same from those weeks ago. Light honey colored hair. Dark eyes. A small beauty mark under his left eye. A soft chiseled jaw. Pale pink lips. His signature eye smile, a favorite feature of yours, one bright enough to light up an entire room, one which always made you feel comforted.

Every aspect of his being was the same, except for the outfit which adored his body, that still managed to give you nostalgia—a black short sleeve button up shirt with one button undone to showcase his smooth pale skin, a pair of white jeans that perfectly hugged his legs, and his staple piece of black worn out combat boots.

It reminded you of that one time he had picked you up in a vaguely similar outfit to take you to the outskirts of the city, late at night just for exploring, for adventure, when the both of you started hanging out.

All of it was the same, he was the same, and seeing him there flirting with some other girl wronged you in more ways than one, even if it had been a little over a month since you last saw him in person so close, yet so very far away.

You ducked your head lower, to conceal your figure behind those that were in your line of sight, even if you were still in the open area of view, while secretly keeping an eye on him to see if he would move. He would either notice you directly or his knowledge would be the one to give you away. He always had a sense of knowing where you were without even surveying or asking. He just knew and there was no doubt he would know you were there tonight. You had to escape one way or another before you became found. 

However, you weren’t as inconspicuous as you had perceived yourself to be.

He must have caught you staring, behind the figures that did little to help you in your avoidance of the boy. You didn’t know when he exactly saw you for his leaden eyes had suddenly flitted over the heads of the people surrounding him to meet yours.

Caught.

To say you were scared or anxious would be an understatement for your palms got sweaty and you felt like you could no longer breathe with your heart beating in your ribcage like the fast beat of a drum.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

He excused himself from the brunette he was talking to, gently taking her dainty hand off his bicep when he turned to leave, muttering an apology to her, and stalked over to where you sat rooted to your stool, nearly paralyzed.

But your senses kicked in before then, prohibiting you from just waiting for his arrival. You stumbled over your footing, the heels on your feet making it difficult to get by unnoticed since you were having some difficulty walking away at a fast pace. You tried your best to steer through the people that blocked your path, heading towards an area away from prying eyes, which so happened to be a dimly lit hall that was empty from what you could see.

He was pushing through the drunken bodies, not even managing to say sorry after every push and shove. You heard him call your name, although it was drowned out with the ringing in your ears, the sounds of the music and shouts mixing together indefinitely.

You turned your head over your shoulder to see if he had caught up to you or if you lost him in the crowd.

No figure in sight. You lost him. You escaped.

You leaned your head against the wall, heaving a loud sigh, trying to shake off the jitters in your body. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and the thumping in your chest refused to cease. You wrapped your arms around you in an attempt to calm yourself, to provide much needed comfort.

Comfort that turned to queasiness.

A unlit impending figure loomed over you, casting your body in a black shadow as your breath became short, making it a hassle to inhale, exhale. 

Caught yet again.

You peered up, to see eye to eye with a boy that once held the entire galaxy in his orbs, but now only held emptiness.

The stare was too intense, making you force your eyes away for your own well-being. His shadow became woozy and blurry, making it difficult to pick out which replica was the real version of him.

You were nearly hyperventilating, your breath staggering and your lungs felt as if they would combust any second from lack of oxygen.

The ringing in your ears became louder as you could faintly make out him mouthing your name through reading his lips.

He then raised his hand, cupping your cheek with his thumb, caressing the skin, and that was when everything became calm through a simple touch.

The ringing in your ears ceased, the pounding of the music and chatters of the people became silent, the jitters in your body were gone, and mellowness coursed through your veins to where everything was at a standstill.

Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, awaiting his next move, his next words.

“Bub…” He started then shook his head, the affectionate nickname accidently slipping without consciousness. You hadn’t heard that name come from his mouth in so long. You missed it. “Ah, sorry.” Another shake of the head. “Are you okay? You were almost having a panic attack. Y-Your…” He trailed off, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest by his side as he turned his head away then back to face you. His eyes were soft and filled with concern. He whispered so softly, you could barely make out his words. “Your anxiety hasn’t gotten worse right?”

It was now your turn to move away from his piercing gaze. You never talked about your conflicts with your friends before, you had almost forgotten you had told him, that he knew a secret of yours, but he was never willing to share his own.

You rubbed your hands up and down your arms to provide some heat from the chills that suddenly erupted throughout your entire body.

You refused to behold him. “No,” you muttered, eyeing the floor. “It hasn’t so don’t worry. I’m fine.”

His calloused hands grasp at your chin so he could turn your face to lay your eyes on him. “Are you really okay?”

You knew the underlying meaning to his question. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, just waiting to fall at four words that seemed so simple to provide an answer to, despite that it was so very hard to voice.

Your eyes dropped to the floor, but he titled your chin up to make sure he saw your eyes when you answered, to see if you were telling the truth.

There was no point to lie, to him of all people, so you mumbled the dreadful word, knowing it was the last one he would want to hear, “No.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, letting his hand fall and took a step back, to provide some space between your bodies. He was the one that now refused to take note of you.

“What do you mean?”

You hugged your own body closer, seeing that he couldn’t provide the much needed comfort, not when what you once had no longer existed.

Your delicate voice could barely be heard. “I-It’s just been h-hard without you. I thought I could do it, b-but…” You trailed off, a stray tear making its way down your cheek and onto the floor. The round droplet of water becoming so lonely, resting there by itself, just like you. “I-I can’t.”

He stepped further away, pushing a hand through his hair, messing up the once neat locks.

“You can’t say that.” He inhaled a breath, raising his eyes to the ceiling then at your figure leaning against the wall. “You can’t ask that of me.”

The frustration seeped through your tone. “I know that!” Your voice became softer. “Trust me I know, but what do you want me to say? That I’m fine without you? That I am happy without you in my life?” You paused, trying to cower into your body further if it was even possible. “You know I can’t lie to you, Jen.” He flinched at the nickname, furthering clutching his hair. “You know I can’t so what’s the point? I’m not happy, I’m not happy…unless it’s with you and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I haven’t moved on.”

He let out a long, exasperated sigh, his hand relaxing before settling by his sides. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can no longer be your happiness, but it’s for the best. We both agreed on this, remember? Even if it pains us, it’s for the best.”

You wiped at your eyes. The dry tears could be still felt on your skin, be that as it may you no longer were on the verge of crying, you were angrier than anything else. You threw your hands up in the air, taking steps towards him until you were mere inches away.

“But why can’t the best be filled with joy instead of sorrow. Why Jen? Why can’t we be happy together?”

Your red rimmed eyes and teary face bruised him on all accounts. Whenever you were hurt, he was as well and it was something he was afraid of, he would always be till the end of time. 

“I…” He inhaled a breath. “I don’t know.”

You placed your hand on his bicep giving him a small smile, not letting your temper consume you today. “It’s okay, I get it.”

He leaned his head forward to rest on your shoulder letting out small, shallow breaths as you raise your hand to run through his thick locks of hair.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, bub,” he choked on his words, the nickname slipping past his lips unheard. He hitches up his head off your shoulder, allowing your hand to drop from the movement. He gazed into your eyes, the regret ever so prevalent. “I’m the one to blame for us falling apart.”

You nodded your head, not knowing what else to say, both shocked at his shameless declaration and admittance of his faults, nonetheless also touched that he spoke the truth.

His cell phone then suddenly dinged in his pocket, startling the both of you as he took the device out of his back pocket, the light from the screen illuminating his face in a bright, blinding glow.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He looked up at you and your furrowed eyebrows. “I-I have to go. I…” He opened his mouth, wrangling with his next words, trying to be careful with what he said next because they could either mend or break the already hanging thread that bounded the two of you together.

A subtle smile slipped onto your face that he could see in the muted lit hall and it melted his heart. He knew you understood, like you always had and always will. 

“I’ll see you around.” He reached for your hand, giving it a slight squeeze, the contact alone was one that left tingles in your skin. “Stay safe.”

He leaves, letting go of your hand and the hold you had over his life, retreating into the darkness of the night for an adventure he always sought to seek, except this time you weren’t by his side.

Though even if you weren’t with him, you weren’t alone. 

“You know,” a voice spoke up amidst the near gloominess of the hall, startling you. You jolted in your spot and turned your body around slowly, the pulse of your beating heart quickening. You saw a figure in the shadows, well at least that is what you could make out.

Had someone been there the whole time? Listening to your conversation with Jeno?

You were more exposed than you realized and you wished it wouldn’t bite you in the back.

Your feet padded against the marble floor and you squint your eyes to get a better look a couple of inches away. Their back was resting on the wall with their left foot planted flatly there as you could see the red solo cup in their right hand. Their head tilted forward slightly as they swished the liquid around the cup before bringing it to their lips and then they proceeded to push themselves off to advance towards you. You saw his figure emerge out of the darkness and when he stood so close to you you didn’t know what to do, feel, or think. You felt like your heart stopped beating in your chest and the blood coursed that through your veins spiked with utter heat, it was a different state, one you never experienced before, not even with a previous lover. 

Your mind went blank and your mouth became dry.

The boy that stood before you was beyond beautiful. You could make out his features in the pale lit hall from every little perfection to perfection for he struck you like he was crafted from above to be unrivaled with no fault in sight.

The first thing that drew you in was his eyes. His eyes were sharp and catlike, a deep brown color that cut through your soul as if he could see every aspect of your being. His eyebrows were rich and fine, in a perfect shape, every hair in the same direction, brushed to be unmoving. While his nose was soft and round, enhancing his delicate features. His cupid bow was prominent, yet light, shaping his thin lips that were pink and utterly pulposus. His skin appeared to be smooth, without any blemish in sight, but you could make out a small scar on the right side of his face that was covered by his hair, though the mark did not take away from his loveliness, only amplified it. His hair was midnight black, almost blending into the background and perfectly framed his face, the strands falling to the sides, right above his eyes, leaving a little bit of his forehead exposed. His face was completely stoic with no mein painted across its fairness and he still was able to be so ethereal, yet imitating with his sharp jawline and pierced ears. He was too good to be true and you felt as if you weren’t worthy enough to lock eyes with an exquisite being such as himself. Even so, your eyes roamed around his face to analyze each and every feature, to truly engrave his image in your mind. 

You could stare all day and get lost in him till he broke you out of your thoughts.

“You know,” he repeated again and you could feel his eyes on you as you struggled to look anywhere but at his gorgeous face. “Whatever goes around eventually comes back to you.” He paused and licked his lips, contemplating a motive. He titled his head before stepping forward while your eyes became wide with curiosity, wondering what he was about to do next. He brought his free hand up from his side, delicately grasping your chin to make you focus on him. His thumb came to rest on your lower lip as you unconsciously parted your lips from his scorching touch. He softly moved his thumb around for several seconds before pulling your lip down at a slow pace. His hand settled completely afterwards, resting by his side anew. He maneuvered right next to your body and leaned his face closer, his pink lips touching your earlobe. He whispered so quietly that you could barely make out what he said or if he even said anything at all. “So you gotta be careful, baby.”

Your mouth opened and closed, attempting to get a response out. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you could feel your hands begin to get clammy. He called you baby, a simple word of affection you heard a thousand times in your life, yet when he said it the feelings that overcame you were different. There was something else in the pet name, an unknown tone of emotion that you couldn’t figure out.

You couldn’t figure him out. 

He affected you so much with mere words as well as actions and you had barely glimpsed at him for not many fleeting seconds. He held you in a spell and you didn’t know if it was one that could be broken. 

You gathered enough courage to turn your head, hoping to see his face a mere centimeters from you, but he wasn’t. He stepped away from you amongst your captivated state and the hotness that emitted from his body turned cold. He didn’t even look at you as he strode by, becoming a small figure amidst a bigger crowd, only leaving you with his last lovely words of advice. You were confused to say the least. He didn’t say goodbye or inform you that he would catch you around campus like you hoped he would. He simply left and with that, you felt as if a piece of your heart did as well. What hurt the most was that you didn’t even catch his name.

Who was he?

That was a question you would strive to find the answer to, if it was the last thing you could do on this forsaken planet during your lifetime. For you were mesmerized by a stranger in the dark, a beautiful one at that who had the power to make you fall with his mere presence and make you forget all the same.

You suppose that the mere explanation why you were disoriented as you made your way back to the heart of the party courtesy of the enigma himself, the thought of Lee Jeno long forgotten.

Everything felt dizzy around you as you felt reality slowly morph into fantasy. The colors of the flashing LED lights were blurring together and the bodies that were pushing up against you when you crossed the dance floor felt too close for comfort.

You needed a glass of water or the fresh air or even someone to take your mind off things. You needed to truly be lost to the bliss of your mind in order to gain sobriety thereafter. You were slightly tipsy, most certainly pushing it, yes, but you were also intoxicated from another source that made you drunk—a boy.

Not even the Balkan 176 Vodka had this much of an impact.

You stumbled forward, pushing through the crowd to get to the kitchen, hoping you recalled the familiar pathway to your destination that had started off your night.

You must have been too close to the floor or were worse in appearance than you assumed yourself to be for you tripped on your footing and fell forward, not before someone’s arm came to wrap around you waist to prevent you from face planting the floor.

“Woah,” they said, their husky voice sounding like music to your ears. “Are you okay there?”

You closed your eyes shut and nodded your head, too scared to turn around to face them through your embarrassment. They maneuvered you around so the front of your body was directly in front of their own. You slowly opened your eyes to the sight of yet another breathtaking boy, making him one of countless others you had seen throughout the night. This particular boy though was one with a dimpled smile. He had a boyish charm that exuded from his persona, but also a sense of maturity at the same time. His deep black hair was parted and a few loose strands fell perfectly over his forehead. He had an inviting look on his face and you suppose that is why you choose him.

You didn’t even think twice before grabbing the collar of his shirt and crashing your lips onto his.

A distraction is what he would be from the brutal reality of your intoxicated world full of heartbreak, lies, and a sprinkle of hope.

He must have been startled for he didn’t move his plump lips against yours for a handful of seconds, but after much adherence he gave in.

It might have been weird to make out with a stranger you didn’t know, one whose name you didn’t even ask for, that is the glamor of college frat parties in some form. Everyone hooked up with everyone. No judgment was given and you were just there for some fun, even if it countered your morals.

Sense was out the door and a high took over. No room for second guessing.

You made out with the attractive boy for some long, draining seconds, before he pulled back first. His lips were swollen and so very red. You were sure you mirrored his features.He licked his lips and titled his head, his gaze locking onto yours as he gave his eyebrow a slight raise.

“Wow,” he muttered then proceeded to chuckle. “Do you always make out with strangers before knowing their name? Or just make out with a stranger right when you meet them?” Another chuckle and a shake of the head.

You turned away, the embarrassment coursing through your veins again. You were thankful that sobriety was achieved, howbeit it partially had to be because of a make out session no less. Sometimes you hated when you drank, too out of it to be aware of your actions.

Damn Nicole.

He moved his hand forward and grasped your chin lightly to turn your face towards him. He was the third to make contact with your skin that night, still and all his touch didn’t burn like the boy that emerged from the dark, for it only left you unfeeling.

He hummed waiting for your answer and the intensity of his stare when you peered at him under your lashes made your knees buckle.

“Um…” you trailed off letting out an awkward and forced giggle. “N-no…not really,” you cleared your throat to get the proper words out. Confidence is what you had to remember. “No, but I—”

You were cut off by a shout of another male calling your name, whose figure was pushing through the throngs of people to reach you when you turned your head to take a gander.

“Ah,” he lets out an exasperated sigh. “There you are! I have been looking all over for you.” He huffs out a breath and gives you a pointed stare. “I told you not to go running off…” He then stops abruptly when he inspects the boy who was so blatantly close to you, too close by his standards at least.

His eyebrows furrowed and zoned in at the boy's hand that were placed firmly on your side and how your chest was pressed up close to his. The boy’s hand hadn’t moved from its previous position either, but when he saw the stare of your best friend he let it rest back to his sides and stepped backwards letting go of his hold on you completely.

“Jaehyun? What are you doing? No,” he shook his head and slightly glared at the presumably older boy. “What were you doing?”

Jaehyun, the boy you now knew the name of after a kiss, shyly laughed and brought his hand up to rub at his neck. You could see the tips of his ears beginning to turn pink as he refused to make eye contact.

While you knew he wouldn’t say what you both were truly doing before your friend’s arrival you didn’t want to leave him grasping at straws.

“He—” you started, then stopped at the same pointed look your best friend gave you and let out a huff at his behavior. He was always too overprotective of you.

“It wasn’t what it looked like Mark, I swear.” He put his hands up at the eyebrow raise Mark gave him as if he caught onto the lie Jaehyun was going to tell. His hands sank to his sides before he continued. “I saw her stumbling through the crowd some minutes ago and she was so clearly out of it that she almost tripped so obviously I didn’t want her to hurt herself. I just stopped her from nearly collapsing on the floor. That’s all.”

When he finished speaking, Mark's gaze was anything but less suspicious, yet his face slowly morphed into a subtle smile. “Always a gentleman huh, Jae?” He asked and let out a laugh in which the boy returned.

Jaehyun’s eyes peered over at you as he gave a lopsided grin and subtle wink. “Always.”

You were hoping Mark didn’t catch on, but with the way his hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you harshly forward, you were beginning to think he had.

“Okay well we better get going. It is a Thursday and we do have class tomorrow so I'll catch you later, Jae. Just tell the guys I had to drop someone off if they’re wondering where I am.”

Jaehyun nodded his head, his eyes still on your own before flashing to meet Mark's. “Will do and hey,” he jerked his head towards you as your eyes slightly furrowed, speculating what he wanted to say to you. “Try not to face plant the floor again, okay?”

You laughed at his remark as Mark's arm came to wrap around your waist tightly, trying to whisk you away towards the front door. You stumbled over how fast he was trying to get your further away from Jaehyun, but still made an effort to reply to the other boy.

You whipped your head around to see him one last time before he would be one figure amongst hundreds. “No promises!”

He shook his head at you and pivoted on his heel. The figure of a boy with a dimpled grin being lost in the sea of people. You hoped you could see him around another time and considering everything you knew you would.

“Try not to flirt with my friends will you?” Mark spoke out as he maneuvered you around the countless bodies occupying the house. He tugged your arm over his shoulder to give him more support while you walked. 

You rolled your eyes at him and pouted. “I was not,” you burped. “Flirting.”

He snickered, peering over at you instantly. “Sure you weren’t.” He looked over the heads of people as he was nearing the front door, stopping in his tracks when you were a few feet away from leaving the house. 

“Anyways where’s Nicole? You came with her right? That’s what you told me because you didn’t want me to come pick you up to bring you to the party.”

You nodded your head, letting out a small yawn. “Mhm, but I lost her not even ten minutes into the party. She went off with one of your frat boys I am sure, I don’t know which one obviously and just left me to mingle.”

He sighed. “We won’t be seeing her for quite some time then.”

“Nope,” you spoke, popping the ‘p.’ “Not a chance.”

“Guess I’ll have to give you a ride then, not that I wasn’t going to but I didn’t want to leave you both alone just in case.” He spoke glancing around to see if by chance Nicole was around, having returned from her little fun escapade.

“Agreed,” you said, yawning once more and you snuggled into the crook of Mark's neck, letting your eyes shut close. Partying for who knows how long and drinking who knows how much alcohol made you exhausted beyond belief. 

“Why have a frat party on Thursday? Especially when most of us have classes the next day. I don’t get it,” you mumbled into his neck as he fondly glanced down at you. There was something endearing about you in that moment, regardless of being at a frat party with sweaty bodies and stomach-churning smells. He leaned forward to kiss the top of your head before adjusting his grip on you so he could get you both out the front door and into his car without any mishaps.

“It is called a frat party for a reason, angel. No day of the week stops us, not even school days.”

You let out a loud groan. “Just great for us, huh?”

He let out a laugh. “Mhm because you’ll definitely have a hangover tomorrow and won’t want to get out of bed, but yay classes. You’re a freshman too and it’s your first week so mind you that you can’t skip even if you wanted to.”

“Screw you.” You murmur elevating your head slightly to properly glare at him. Instead of a threatening look it was something he found cute. But at that same moment when you upheave your head from Mark's shoulder you caught a glimpse of him. You were sure it was him, you couldn’t forget his face even if you tried. He was leaning on a tree in the front yard, once more in the shadows. His right foot was planted on the stump, and in his right hand was an unlit cigarette. His free hand reached into his front pocket and he pulled out a silver lighter that caught glimpses of the moonlight, shining so prominently. When he lit his cigarette he took a long drag and then exhaled, gray smoke encompassing him in a gloomy cloud. He wasn’t checking anywhere but straight ahead to the murkiness of the road, the only light emitting from the lights of the house behind you, that casted a perfect glow across his face, if only he stepped out from the shadows so you could see him in all his enchanting glory. You thought he would turn to eye you, people always did when they felt someone staring, but he didn’t and you forced your head away when Mark called your name.

“Angel?” He asked, his tone curious. “You okay? You blank spaced for a few seconds there.”

You peep up at him to see the concern in his eyes.

You shook your head to get rid of the image that plagued your mind: an image of a boy you thought you wouldn’t see afresh.

“Yeah,” you peered over Mark’s shoulder to see if he was still there, but what you saw was a bare and lonely tree with no boy leaning against it. You were left in disappointment along with confusion for he was there moments ago but left once you turned your head away.

Weird.

Another shake of the head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just sleepy, sorry.” You sheepishly smiled up at him.

He chuckled, giving a kiss to your forehead. “Understandable so let's get you home.”

You rested your head on his shoulder once more, your eyes filled with both drowsiness and longing for a boy you didn’t know. Hope was all you had and it would be a driving force for you to see the bewildering boy for more than a fleeting second.

If only you knew he had caught you staring when he slipped away.

“You’re sober right?” You questioned when you both arrived at the location in which Mark had parked his black Audi Suv Q8. How he had the money for such a gorgeous car was a shocker, especially considering he was in college no less. Mark always did surprise you in more ways than one.

His grip on you loosened so he could fumble through his jean pocket to find his keys. He gave you an exasperated look when his keys jingled in his hand, clinking against one another.

“Angel, seriously? Of course I'm sober. You know I don't really like to drink anyways, especially at parties.”

You giggled at him. “Sorry, I forgot but I just wanted to make sure! You know my safety can be at risk.”

He brought you over to the side of the passenger’s seat as he unlocked the car, opening up the door to push you inside. He unwrapped his arm from around your waist and tugged your arm away from his neck, so you could sit comfortably in the leather cushion. As he reached over to click the seatbelt into place, he became undeniably close to you, his breath fanning your face.

“Angel you’re always safe with me, “ he drew back to get a good glimpse of your face. “Never forget that.” And when you thought he would give you a friendly kiss on the head like he did various times before, he raised his right hand and gave a small flick to your forehead instead.

“Agreed?”

You lurched back, shocked that he flicked you and he laughed at your wide eyes.

“You flicked me!”

His eyes roll in your sight and he leans back to stand up properly. “Yeah I flicked you, had to get you more sober somehow.”

Then he closes the door shut as he makes his way to the driver’s seat leaving your response unheard.

You grumbled underneath your breath and crossed your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t very nice.”

You turned away from him when he got in the car and clicked his seatbelt into place. He stuck the keys in the ignition and a rumbling was heard thereafter of the engine starting.

He called your name, reaching his right arm over to place his hand on your thigh. He patted the bare skin to get your attention. “Angel come on.” He was glancing between you and the empty road in front of him. “Don’t be mean now.”

You shifted your body, turning forward, his hand dropping from your thigh. He now placed both hands on the wheel, still awaiting to see if you would talk to him.

You sighed before letting out a small giggle and stuck out your tongue when you knew he wasn’t paying attention. “I would never.”

He whipped his head suddenly to make contact with you, your laughter still echoing in the car. “Did you just—”

“Hey! Eyes on the road dumbass!” You hollered and reached over to grab hold of the wheel when he had begun to slightly swerve into the left lane from looking at you for too long. He jerked suddenly when he heard your exclamation as he took over the wheel and steered the car back into the right lane.

He let out a sigh of relief, looking straight ahead, glad no cars were near him when the mishap occurred. He released his right hand off the steering wheel, brushing it through his luscious locks of hair before going back to gripping the wheel, his knuckles turning white from how hard his hold was.

You leaned back in your seat, snuggling into the warm leather. Your tone was mocking as you spoke your next words, “You’re so smart, Markie.” You stifled a laugh when he gave a roll of his eyes.

You knew he would reach over to softly punch you, only if he wasn’t afraid of possibly crashing once more.

“Shut up.”

Your laughter rang out and would flood the increasing silence for moments to come along with the pop music that blared from the car’s speakers, Mark’s attempt of drowning out your titters until you finally reached your destination.

You only lived a few minutes away from campus since you didn’t live in the dorms like other fellow freshmen, lucky enough that your parents had been willing to pay for your own place once you had gotten into university.

Mark had pulled up in the parking lot, turning the keys in the ignition to shut off his car. He released a subtle yawn, leaning back in his seat and turned his head to peer over at you.

Your eyes locked with his own, the contact between you lasting for what felt like instances too long. You could see the tenderness in his gaze and a small smile broke out on his face, one you could barely make out due to the darkness of the wee hours of the morning. You were sure it was past two. 

“Come on,” he reached over the center console and brushed his knuckle against your check, as your own lips uplifted into a lazy beam. “Let me walk you inside.”

You hummed in response and he retracted his hand to clutch onto the handle of the car door in order to get out. You waited for him to come to the other side so he could help you out the car and to the door of your apartment, since you intelligibly could not do it on your own, the drowsiness taking over.

He opened the door and leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt. Your eyelids feel heavy with sleep as you could barely keep them open, when his right arm wrapped around your waist to haul you up. You thought he would just help you to your door, allowing you to hold some of your own bodyweight, but he didn’t. When your feet were planted on the concrete, he latched one arm under your legs, the other still placed around your waist, permitting him to carry you bridal style. Your eyes fluttered open at the abrupt movements, but you just placed your head in the crook of his shoulder once more, finally allowing your eyes to close as he maneuvered your arm around his neck for further support.

He carried you all the way to your doorstep, knowing you had placed a spare key under the doormat when you first moved in.

He placed the key in the lock, turning it in place and pushed the door open with the front of his foot. The lights flickered on, detecting the motion and he trotted on to the end of the hall where the entrance of your bedroom was. He glanced at the stark neon numbers of your alarm clock, noting it was half past three in the morning. He shook his head and you moved in the process, letting out a small whine. He knew your class would be in a little more than four hours and he knew how much you would dread to get up in the morning.

He dropped you lightly on the bed, unraveling your limbs from around him. You turned in your bed, a groan leaving your lips.

He softly chuckled at you then proceeded to tug off your heels, deciding to leave you in the rest of your attire, even if a mini dress wasn’t ideal to sleep in. However, you would manage, especially considering you were too out of it to care.

He tugs the covers out from underneath you, evident of the sounds of protest emitting from your lips.

“I am just trying to tuck you in, you big baby,” he teases. “So stop moving.”

You weren’t fully passed out yet so you took heed to his words, stopping in your movements as you felt the snugness of the blankets engulf you. He made sure you were tucked in nicely before leaning over and placing a gentle peck on your forehead, in which he caught a glimpse of a smile.

“Good night, angel,” he whispered once he leaned back. He brought the covers up to your chin, giving your cheek a little tap with his index finger. “I love you.”

You hummed, tilting your head up to scrunch up your nose in the air as your eyes became closed crescent moons. “Love you too, Markie.” You let out a yawn and turned your head away to face the wall, snuggling deeper into your covers.

A smile was painted on his face as he pivoted on his heel to exit the room and ultimately your apartment in order to drive back to his frat house since he needed some sleep himself, considering you would rely on him in a few hours to make it out of bed for class.

He then stopped in his tracks before he was completely out the door. “I’ll come by in the morning…in a few hours and shoot you a text so you can get up on time. Class at 8am sharp, angel. Don’t forget.” 

His footsteps faded into the hall and you heard the front door slam shut moments after. While he didn’t think you were awake when he spoke his friendly reminder, you were, at least before you finally let sleep take you under. Yet, in those few hours, when Mark said he would swing by, he didn’t.

So there you were, jerking awake in raw sweat when you glanced at your alarm clock that indicated the time was ten past eight in the morning.

“Shit,” you said, bringing your hand up to rub at your temples to potentially soothe the pounding headache you had.

Trust Mark to let you down, though you knew there was a possible conflict. He never forgot things, there had to be a reason, but you wouldn’t let it worry you now when you were assuredly late for class.

You thought of skipping, but recalled the oh so fantastic reminder that you were still a freshman and your class attendance did matter, especially since it was the first week.

You scrambled to get out of bed, tripping over your two left feet as you made your way to the bathroom that was a few steps away from your room.

You rushed to brush your teeth and wash your face, the light makeup crusty beyond belief. You also made sure to pee, just like your usual morning routine. Then you rushed back into your room to swiftly change into a more comfortable outfit, something that wasn’t a short mini dress because no way were you going to be marching into lecture looking like you came straight from the club. You tugged on some black jeans and took the first hoodie you laid eyes on off the hanger before jumping into your socks and grabbing the first pair of Vans that lay by your shoe rack.

You reached for your cell phone on the bedside table along with your car keys, seeing the time was now 8:17am and assorted texts from your friends. The one that stood out most was Mark’s which was the most recent, but you had no time to check what he said, most likely noting he was apologizing for not coming over. You slipped your mobile into your back pocket and went down the hall. You made a fast stop to your kitchen, grabbing a cold bottle of water from the fridge and reaching for the bottle of Advil in the cupboard, that you would undoubtedly need to down in order to get rid of your hangover, the headache pounding feeling louder by the second. You skidded over to the couch in your living room and grabbed your backpack off the cushion, hoping it had all the materials you would need for your classes today. 

After shutting the door to your apartment, making sure it was locked, and skipping down the stairs by twos, you reached the parking garage of your complex, nearly running to get to your sleek grey Toyota Corolla. You kick started your car and drove down the highway, speeding to the point you were sure you would get pulled over if a cop so happened to pass by. Although fate was on your side today because you made it to campus in nearly record time, right on the dot at 8:22am. You would get marked late and definitely scolded some more if you stepped through the door at 8:30am for a lecture, but you could make it if you sprinted across campus, which was what you were going to do.

Yet, running sometimes doesn’t work for you because when you turned the corner of the hallway where your morning class was located, you bumped into someone. 

“Ow,” you muttered under your breath. Their chest was rock solid and the impact hurt. Their hands came to rest on your forearms to steady you.

“Oh fuck. Are you okay?” they asked gruffly, concern patent in their tone and for some reason their voice was vaguely recognizable. 

“Ah yeah, I’m…” You trailed off, just about ready to see who you ran into, but in the corner of your eye, right before you could, you saw him, a glimpse of a figure with black bucket hat and oversized paint splatter tee. It could have just been anyone, yet you were sure it was him because you would notice those arcane and void eyes anywhere. His eyes barely glanced at his surroundings as he was walking and he had the effect to unintentionally stop your train of thought. You knew it was him, the boy from the frat party, the one that stunned you into silence, the one that made your heart beat rapidly, the one that called you baby, the one—

“Hey!” the person in front of you exclaimed, slightly shaking your arms. “Are you sure you’re good? You were out of it there for a second, princess.”

You shook your head to get your mind unclouded, noting the boy had faded into oblivion, yet again. You never quite had the timing right. Sometimes fate was on your side, other times not so much.

You turn your head, locking eyes with the deep brown of the boy who you bumped into, the same boy who had saved you yesterday. Just perfect. 

He has a gentle smile on his face, one that made you feel cozy and his dimples were showcased so prominently. 

“Well, if it isn't my favorite clumsy girl. We meet again and soon at that. Do I have to keep you from falling all the time?”

You giggle nervously when he quirks his brow, “Well?”

You stutter, looking behind your shoulder then back at his face. “U-Um...well...I-I…”

His boisterous laugh rings. “I’m just messing, princess. If anything I so happen to enjoy our little run-ins. Gives me an excuse to talk to you and have you fall into my arms,” he states with no shame, the smile widening. 

“Of course you’d say that.”

“Can’t help it princess, that was some kiss last night,” his smile transforms to a small smirk.

You hit his chest and he chortles at your action, his head leaning back. You whisper in response, “Shut up, someone might hear you.”

“My bad,” he manages to say in between his amusement.

You shake your head, but then your eyes go wide with realization that you needed to be in class, as in right now. 

“Shit,” you cursed, the fear seeping in your bones. You never had been late before. 

His laughter stops and his eyebrows wrinkle together. “You all right?”

You let out another high strung laugh, stepping back from him and to the other side of his body. His eyes follow your every move. “Oh yeah sorry. I’m fine…I just have to go,” you spoke and then dashed forward, leaving him behind in the dust along with the memory of the same mysterious boy from before Jaehyun stole your attention away. 

You were glad you made it right on time to class, well as late as you were. You footslog through the door at 8:30am, with each pair of eyes in the classroom looking at you for the tiniest nanosecond. You were glad your professor hadn’t called you out, too invested in his lesson that he didn’t spare you a single glance even if you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your skull as you made your way to your seat in the back of the room. Class droned on for two hours and you felt every ounce of willpower draining from your veins. You were sure you would collapse any second now and taking a few tablets of Advil added to your disoriented state of sleepiness. You still had another two classes after this one before you would be able to take a break for lunch and even then you had one more class before you were done for the day.

You were hoping it went by fast, but with your hangover still quite literally hanging around, and your lack of focus, you knew you were fucked.

Fucked is what you were until lunch time came around. 

You were sure everyone could catch on to the fact that you were hung over because simply put you looked like shit. You had your hoodie on, but it barely accomplished concealing your very visible red-rimmed eyes and droopy lids. You were basically dragging yourself over to your designated spot where Nicole, Mark, and you always met up for your breaks. You were glad your schedules overlapped to where you would be able to catch up with them before the other had to dash off to another class. Mark was busier since he was a year above, but he still tried to organize his schedule around your own because his classes were from the early morning to night at times. While you and Nicole usually had classes up till the midafternoon, allowing the rest of your day and night to be free.

When you reached the expanse of the indoor cafeteria, you struggled to find either one of your friends, desperately searching for a similar shade of brown and black amongst countless others.

Then you saw Mark pushing his way through the surrounding students, coming over to you and you caught sight of Nicole sitting at the table tucked into the corner of the dining room, tapping away at her cell phone screen, her tray of food discarded.

There was a smirk plastered on his face when he reached you and slung his arm over your shoulder. He whispered in your ear rather obnoxiously, “You look like shit.”

You pushed at his side to get him off of you from his crude remark, but to no avail for he brought his arm tighter around you so he could hug you to his chest. His laughter rang loud amongst the noise of the cafeteria, but you were sure it would have stood out like a sore thumb.

You mumbled into his chest, your cheek resting on his sky blue button up shirt, inhaling the scent of citrus and detergent. “I hate you.”

His laughter got even louder if that was possible. “You don’t, but whatever you say angel.” He released his grip on you, unraveling himself from your body, though his arm was still around your shoulder as you closed your eyes momentarily, leaning on him.

“Now let’s get you some food, hm?”

You nodded your head as he steered you through the crowd to get to the table. When your eyes opened you still saw Nicole typing away furiously on her mobile, but then she heaved a loud and long sigh, nearly slamming the cellular device down on the table in the process.

You walked around the table to sit next to her, Mark’s arm dropping from your shoulder as he excused himself to go pick up some food for both you and him.

You wrapped your own arm around her as she leaned her body into yours.

“What’s up?” you asked, rubbing your thumb over her clothed skin.

She sighed yet again and shook her head. “Nothing…it’s just a lot happened at that party after I left you alone…” She paused, peering up at the ceiling then down at her twiddling hands in her lap. “A lot and I don’t know…I don’t know.”

You nodded your head in acknowledgement, you had some idea what she meant, most likely referring to the boy she wandered off with at the start of the party, but you would wait for her to tell you what happened and she would when she felt like sharing. There was no point to pressure her.

“I get it, don’t worry Nicki. We can talk about it when you’re ready.”

She turned her head to smile up at you and raised her hand to boop your nose. “Thanks babe. You’re the best.”

You lazily smiled back at her. “Yeah I know.”

She let out a giggle and you were glad you achieved your goal to make her happy in that moment, but it was for a moment too short because the sound of a tray hitting the table echoed in the cafeteria courtesy of Mark Lee himself.

“Ah shit, sorry, sorry,” he muttered, his mouth turned down into a frown. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything between you two.” He rubbed the back of his neck before gently placing the next tray onto the table to lessen the noise.

You laughed as Nicole’s weight lifted off of you.

“You’re fine, Markie, don’t worry.” You smiled up to him and patted the seat next to you. “So what did you get me for lunch?”

He maneuvered around the table to sit next to you, sliding the trays over once he sat down.

He gave you a boyish grin, his star-filled eyes sparkling. “Your favorite.”

You peered down at the tray in front of you, with two styrofoam containers of various sizes and some napkins he had so graciously placed at the sides.

You quirked an eyebrow when you looked over at him, wondering what he meant, considering you loved most food and it was always hard to pick one favorite.

You opened the larger container to a sandwich cut perfectly into two triangles, the distinct turkey slices and cheddar cheese sticking out.

“You didn’t…”

His beam grew. “Yup! A turkey, apple, and cheddar sandwich, baby! I know you’ve been craving one too and since hangovers also suck ass it is perfect for lunch.”

He bumped his shoulder with yours. “With a side of fries of course.”

You giggled and bumped his shoulder right back, making sure to give his hand a squeeze that rested on his thigh.

“Thank you, Markie. You always do take care of me.”

He squeezed your hand right back before you let go to begin eating your food.

“Always.”

“Aw you guys are always so cute…I’m jealous,” a voice broke out, interrupting the intimate moment between you and Mark. 

Nicole had a pout on her face when you turned to look at her, making the both of you laugh.

“Laughing at my misfortune, sweet,” she mumbled with a roll of her eyes, but you could clearly see her trying to hold back a smile.

“Shut up, Nicki. You just wish you had a relationship like us,” Mark exclaimed with a smirk, throwing his arm around your shoulder, tugging you close to him amidst you trying to take a bite out of your sandwich.

You huffed and shook your shoulders to get the weight of his arm off of you in order to eat before your lunch break was over. “Trying to eat, mate.”

Nicole let out a loud, boisterous laugh as she stood up from the table, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. Her boots clicked against the tile as she took small steps to where the two of you sat. She patted Mark’s head, slightly ruffling his locks of black hair, in which he opposed and kissed the crown of your head, her flowery scent lingering when she stepped back.

“As much as I would love to continue this, my loves, I have to get to my next class early. I have to ask the professor some questions about an upcoming assignment.” She tugged on the straps of her backpack to hitch them higher, the sadness in her eyes transparent at her departure when her eyes glimpsed between you and Mark.

“Aw man,” you pouted. “See you later though! Make sure to text me too!”

She gave you a sly wink. “For sure!” She then smirked over at Mark. “Don’t worry I won’t forget to text you either.”

He gave a roll of his eyes but nodded his head nonetheless. “I am honored. Now go!”

“Okay, okay! I am going so bye bye loves.” She gave a little wave and pivoted on her heels, off towards her next class, but stopped in her tracks after a number of steps.

She moved her head to the right in order to glance at Mark from the corner of her eye. “Oh and Mark? Make sure our little party girl makes it to class in one piece.”

She whipped her head forward and continued walking, not sparing an ounce of extra time to see either one of your reactions. Although Mark besides you was trying his best to contain his laughter.

You punched his shoulder and pushed him thereafter, his body swaying right then left, his laughter ever increasing with no complaints of pain from your bold actions.

“You guys are so annoying,” you mustered, the aggressive sound of your chewing echoing in your ears and his own.

He patted your head, maneuvering his hands over to open his containers of food.

He shrugged his shoulders, picking up his fork to twirl the noodles around before stuffing his face with food. He chewed slowly contrary to your prior actions. He swallowed then spoke, “Yeah, but you still love us.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up a fry and pointing it at him. “Don’t give yourself too much credit there, bud.”

You took a bite when he gave you an exasperated look. “Whatever you say, angel, but you and I both know the truth.”

You ignored him and continued eating, food occupying your mind rather than the bullshit Mark pulled on you, though he did in fact call your bluff. You very much loved him and Nicole, no matter how much you joked about not loving them.

Amidst the quietness that surrounded you and Mark, the only sound of you both chewing every so often, until your ears perked up at a conversation from the tables near you, whispers of remarks. 

“They’re here.”

“Who?”

“The frat boys from NCT, who else? Legends on campus. Heartbreakers of the century. Know how to throw a good party. They are pretty smart too and literally all of them are handsome, it’s insane. A whole package if you ask me. Damn good genes.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the statements, contemplating how accurate they could be and if they really held the very weight conveyed.

Then a light bulb went off in your head—the boys from the NCT frat house, the very boys who threw the outrageous party you attended yesterday. They were here in the cafeteria and everyone was making a big ruckus out of their arrival. While they surely had a name for themselves, they couldn’t be that legendary or that gorgeous, but oh how you were so very wrong.

The diverse boys that walked into the cafeteria, their power exuding from their auras, instances after your claims, were so striking it left you breathless and in awe. 

What the fuck was up with all these college boys being so pretty? 

College was a whole different beast from high school, if the boys were any indication.

You were speculating the boys that stode in didn’t whole frat house, since more often than none frats had a lot of members and even more so that they would all be in different years with different classes throughout the day, not being lucky enough to have an identical period of break. Although, you knew it was possible if the right strings were pulled, but you just believed they weren’t capable of such doings for an odd reason you couldn’t point out. Regardless, the members that strode in surely spoke for the rest of them, indeed the good genes.

To your amazement they didn’t stop to grab food like other students would have if they entered the cafeteria, for the sole purpose of food and food alone. Instead they were on the search for someone, their eyes wandering over the heads of the entire student body that were captivated at their presence. They paid no mind to the apparent stares, set on who they were looking for, even disregarding the flirty winks or sultry gazes a number of girls were sending them.  

Surprising you, one of them managed to send a wink right back when he strided by, a boy with relatively long brown hair with blonde highlights and fierce eyes who looked like he came straight out of a Japanese anime.

You rolled your eyes at the boy’s actions and went back to eating the rest of your fries, having already finished your sandwich, as there was no reason for you to pay attention to them in the slightest. Your meal held more importance. Not to mention, you knew they wouldn't head your way, noting that they weren’t looking for you, rather someone else, a girl or a fellow frat boy if another was in the room.

Then you paused suddenly before you took the final bite out of your french fry. You were hit with an abrupt realization. Mark was in a frat—their frat and they could in fact be looking for him.

Your suspicions were confirmed when a very tall and lean boy, with tousled black hair pushed to the side, presumably leading the other boys that trailed behind him, began to head in the direction of where you sat with Mark, his eyes lighting up as he became closer.

Well shit.

Mark doesn’t look up, too immersed in savoring his meal and glancing at his electronic device from time to time that rested on the table.

You on the other hand, do look up, and your eyes are wide in fear the nearer the frat boys get to the table. You weren’t scared of them, no, you were scared of what could possibly happen once they stopped in front of the both of you.

The tall boy is inches away and when you lock eyes with him, all he does is give you a sly smirk.

Not good at all.

You harshly nudge your shoulder with Mark to capture his attention and he turns to you right after, placing his fork down to give you an annoyed look.

You don’t mutter a word, but rather jerk your head forward in the direction of where all the frat boys stood in their glory. Some with smirks plastered on their faces, soft smiles, or no countenance at all. You could make the distinction between the ones you should ignore and befriend. Not that it should matter, Mark wouldn’t allow it all because of what he dubbed his “best friend duty,” which wasn’t anywhere near practical.

Mark’s eyebrows wrinkle and his lips pucker when he moves his head up to see what—or who you were trying to inform him of.

“Oh,” he lets out, barely audible to anyone that wasn’t close to him.

His facial features suddenly relax and the biggest grin slips onto his face. “Hey guys, what’s up?” He questions energetically, picking up the stray napkin to wipe his fingers clean and pocketing his cell after as he awaits a response.

The tall boy moves first, grabbing an empty chair and taking a seat, flicking his hand up in the air to serve as a signal for the other boys, the meaning it held to you, unknown. They disperse in seconds, swiftly walking to the exit of the cafeteria and only one boy, the one that winked at the girl earlier, stays, him too grabbing the chair next to the tall boy in order to sit down.

The tall boy’s smile is too sweet, too kind, and too secretive as he glances between you and Mark when he answers. “Just came to tell you that we set the date for the next NCT frat party.” He leans back in his seat with his arms crossed.

Mark snickers, peering at you in his peripheral vision. You were still shaken at their arrival, but put up a composed front, placing your hands under your thighs and trying to stop the shaking of your right leg. Mark reached his left hand out and put it on the top of your thigh, slightly giving the clothed skin a squeeze, an act of reassurance.

“And this news couldn’t wait till I got back home?”

The grin on the tall boy's face morphs into a thin line, his eyes becoming serious, no longer filled with mirth that was present before. His voice is stern when he speaks. “No, it couldn’t.” He unravels his arms, placing his forearms on the table while he leans his body forward with his piercing gaze directed at Mark. “It couldn’t, especially when you missed our chapter for the week.”  His gaze got icier if it was even possible. “I am sure you know how important they are.”

Mark gulps, moving his eyes away to look down at the table. He doesn’t respond, opting for unnerving silence, with regards to the chatter of the students around that gives you goosebumps all over.

The unnamed boy that was quiet throughout the duration of the talk between the tall boy and Mark lets out an unexpected guffaw that fills the void. He was slouching in his chair, picking at his nails, but straightens his posture to clap a hand on Mark’s shoulder over the table. He gives Mark a small push, his loud voice echoing. “Relax there Markie boy.” He stifles his laughter at the way Mark’s eyes widen and his nose scrunches at the nickname. He leans back, pulling an object out of his back pocket of his black ripped skinny jeans—a lighter and he twiddles with it between his fingers.

The taller boy too chuckles loudly, leaning back, his arms crossed once more. “Exactly. No need to look so scared Mark. I was joking.” A teasing grin rests upon his lips, his eyes twinkling in contrast to the dullness that once made him look empty. He mutters under his breath, “Partially at least.”

The tall boy puffs out a breath of air in-between his lips, looking over at his companion who turns his head. He smirks first, the laughter bubbling up while the latter joins in with the inside joke, shaking his head, disregarding how Mark and you were still in their vicinity.

They both turn their heads forward, the chuckles dying down. Your eyebrows are furrowed, confusion unmistakable in your eyes and Mark’s expression remains neutral, with a hint of annoyance in his starless eyes.

An easy smile rests on the taller boy’s face when he clears his throat to speak. “Anyways as I was saying, another frat party. It will be in two weeks, on a Friday like we usually do.” He pauses then reaches over to pick up a stray fry off your tray, chewing slowly to savor the taste before he continues. His eyes glinted mischief when they flitted over to look at you for a split second. You were going to protest at him stealing your food, but decided against it, too worried about the outcome, even if you knew the only thing he would do was tease you. That is how most frat boys worked anyways and he wouldn’t be any different, if his actions weren’t enough of an indication. “I will let you know the exact details, but invite whoever you want as we get closer to the date. You know the drill for these…yada yada.” He flicks his hand in the air. “But keep in mind we want it more exclusive this time. There were way too many people for our back to school party yesterday. Way too many.” He rolls his eyes. “We get it, we are the fraternity, but people still show up uninvited and fuck up our house with their shitfaced actions.”

Mark hums in agreement, nodding his head. “Okay yeah got it.”

He sternly replies, “Good, we had enough of seeing way too much vomit.” He visibly shudders and your face contorts to a disgusted expression. You understood where they were coming from and you knew you didn’t want your own house to be filled with a repellent smell.

The discussion ceased after his statement and you thought that was it, that he was done with what he came to the cafeteria for, which was to audibly inform Mark about some frat business. Yet you were in the wrong, because he didn’t get out of his seat and stand up to leave like you believed him to do, no, he stayed rooted to his spot and so did his friend.

He suddenly addresses you, the cheekiness in his gaze and tone, displeasing you. He was hot, yes, but you had enough with the absentminded flirting for one night, even if it was hours later.

Alcohol leaving your system sure did marvels.

He leans forward one more, his head tilted to the side while he quirks up a brow to look you dead in the eyes. “Will you be there, gorgeous?”

You had to stop yourself from giving an eye roll when he asked you the question and his implication of a compliment. You gave him a tight lipped smile, your eyes refusing to meet his own as you opted to look at his forehead discreetly.

You were going to respond until Mark beat you to an answer, the firmness crystal clear in his tone.

“Don’t flirt with her, Johnny,” he warned, directing another annoyed gaze at the tall boy who you now had a name to attach to his face.

Johnny leans back, throwing his arm over the occupied chair to his left and snickers. “Okay lover boy.”

Mark groans, just about as done as you were with Johnny’s ever prominent teasing. He never seemed to stop and you were curious as to how Mark could keep up with him. He did spend most of his time with the boys in his frat and Johnny was one of many who could surely have his fair share of annoying moments.

“Also,” Johnny pipes up, his eyes trailing over at the girl that passes by him, before he diverts his attention to the two of you. “Taeyong is looking for you.”

Mark’s eyebrows come together in confusion and your interest is spiked at the mention of an unknown person. Something stirs within you, an emotion of familiarity as if you had ever met someone with the same name, when you were sure you hadn’t. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it as if they were the answer to a long awaited question.

“Taeyong? Why?”

Johnny lets his arm drop from around the chair and shrugs his shoulders, picking at a loose strand on his washed out ripped jeans. “I don’t know, something about a project? I can’t remember all the details.”

“Oh shit,” Mark swears under his breath as everyone looks over at him, including you. “Right.” He shakes his head, mumbling words to himself as his actions draw attention. He could feel the eyes on him and when he looked up, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. He rubs his hand on the back of his neck in a bashful manner and sheepishly smiles. “Sorry.”

Johnny chuckles. “Anyways Yuta and I need to get going.” He bumps his shoulder with Yuta to capture his attention. You now had another name to a face and you knew you would surely remember them both, it was hard to forget any frat boy. Johnny and Yuta both stand up, the latter putting the lighter in his back pocket as their bodies are turned to leave.

“I’ll see you at the house later,” Johnny states, nodding his head at Mark who returns the gesture. His eyes then flit to look down at you, an easy beam resting on his face. “As for you, I’ll catch you around, gorgeous.” He winks at you then turns, sauntering away to the exit of the cafeteria with Yuta sluggishly trailing behind him. Amidst his departure he raises a hand up and yells, “Bye Markie boy.” Both his and Johnny’s laughter echo in the hall until it fades out into nothingness.

Mark heaves a sigh, “Sometimes I can’t stand them.” He regards you with a displeased look and you have to hold back your giggles from his predicament.

“Of course you would want to laugh right, but angel I have to get going,” Mark exclaims, sadness in his gaze. “I’d hate to leave you here on your own, but understand I totally forgot about it. I really have to go, I can’t hold this...project back forever.”

You beam warmly at him, reaching over to pat his hand and give it a squeeze. “It’s fine Markie, don’t worry about it. Go.” You push his shoulder to get him on the move, allowing him to let out a laugh.

He scrambles to collect his trash onto the tray and swings the strap of his backpack over his shoulder, double checking that his cell phone is in his back pocket. Once he stands up and pushes his chair in with his hip, he leans down to give a kiss on the top of your head.

“Okay, bye angel. I’ll see you soon.” He grins and you nod your head at him, muttering your own, “Okay.”

He then quickly treads away, evaporating into the mess of students. Gone in a second.

He truly was in a rush and you couldn’t help but ponder why that was. The project must have been of uttermost importance for him to dash out so speedily. You wondered if there was something more, or maybe you were thinking too much into things, especially regarding a boy who wore his heart on his sleeve ever since you met him. Even so you were curious about the one he was meeting.

Who the hell was Taeyong?

You sigh. There was no room for pondering when it surely didn’t matter and sitting at the now deserted table, you realized you were left alone like you were at the very start.

Left in solitude and utter loneliness, but you soon wouldn’t be for time could tell.

Time worked faster than you realized, as you spent the next two weeks anxious and nervous beyond belief, for a party you knew could potentially give you the responses you so desperately sought.

In the deepest part of your soul you hoped you would see him there, the boy that captivated you without even trying. You needed to figure who he really was and who he could be. You couldn’t be disappointed and when Friday rolls around after long anticipation, you would find out if fate was on your side.

Leading up to the party, your last two weeks were mostly productive to say the least. In between classes, coursework, and your small part time job at a nearby diner along with making time to hang out with your best friends, everything went by in a blur.

Before you knew it, Nicole had come knocking on your door hours before the party, intent on making you look as stunning as you always did, while you would return the favor.

She seemed to have gotten over her so-called slump from the week prior, yet she still didn’t share the cause of her being upset or out of it, though you did have a hunch it still had to do with the boy she escaped with, someone who most likely had captured her heart when she thought no one could ever. If they were to see each other anew you desired that everything would be satisfactory, that everything would go well for Nicole more than anything, because while she put up a tough front, she was more fragile on the inside than what anyone ever gave her credit for.

Seems like fate would have to give her a chance too.

Driving to the frat house, earlier than fashionably late all due to not wanting to kill your feet once again, nerves got to you. Nicole even had to call you out for it, like she seemed to always do when she knew you weren’t calm. She kept you in check.

She even held your arm as you were making your way up to the front door, the recollection from that night hitting you like a splash of cold water in the face during a hot day.

“You good?” She questioned once she let you sit down on the black stool by the kitchen counter, the same place you were the last time you visited the house.

“Mhm, I’m good.” You rested your arms on the cool surface and put your head down, a groan escaping your lips.

She poked your shoulder. “Sure you are babe. What’s up?” She pulled the empty stool out next to you to sit down, awaiting a response.

You didn’t haul your head up, opting to mumble the words that she wouldn’t be able to make out. “Nothing, but everything.” You paused and hoisted your head up, choosing not to antagonize her. She peered at you with expectant eyes that were still tender, one eyebrow lifted in waiting. You rested your head on your knuckles, looking down at the counter instead of into her eyes. You spoke so quietly, she had to lean in closer to make out your words with the loud sounds that surrounded you both.

“It’s just I saw this boy here the other night and I was maybe…I don’t know…hoping—”

She cut you off. “Hoping to see him again?”

You nodded your head, lifting your eyes up. “Yeah, just maybe.”

She sighed loudly. “Listen love, boys in college they’re…” She paused, puffing out air in between her nude colored lips. “They are exactly like the ones we met during high school. They aren’t all too different because they aren’t innocent, caring, or mature in the slightest. No, they aren’t no matter how much their façade proves otherwise. They hold more secrets then necessary and those are the ones that keep them alive. They get a thrill out of being mysterious, untouchable, since they know how much they are desired, especially these frat boys.”

She taps a finger above your heart. “So you have to be careful, love. You have to shield your heart even if you want to open it up to the first guy that enchants you. Don’t do it. Resist because they bring more trouble than what you bargained for. Not everyone is what, who, they seem and I am saying this as a warning, a reminder for you to heed to. I don’t want to see you hurt so please be careful.”

She grasps your empty hand that rests on your thigh, giving you a small squeeze. Her eyes are somber and you can see the twinge of hurt that lingers when you make contact with her. The tone she had was too relatable for her not to be speaking out of her own experiences. Something must have happened and not for the better like you wished.

You drop your hand from holding the weight of your head and put it on top of hers. “Nicki…what happened?”

You tilt your head when she looks away.

“I guess I am not as tough as I seem,” she murmurs.

You shake your enclosed hands to make her turn back. “Hey,” you say when her broken eyes look at you. “You are the strongest person I know and just because you weren’t immune to someone else’s charms doesn’t belittle that. Nicki we all make mistakes and we all hurt at one time or another so it’s okay. You have to be aware that it is okay to be human.”

She nods her head, giving you a light smile. “I suppose you’re right. I am not weak for feeling. I am strong for it.”

“Damn right you are. You’re a bad bitch, remember?”

She chuckles loud and direct, shaking her head at your words. “Indeed I am. We are bad bitches together.”

She slips her hand out from where she was holding yours and raises her pinky.

“Forever?”

You latch your pinky around her own, smiling at her so bright, that she can’t help but let her grin widen. Her eyes now contain a hint of happiness when you shake your pinkies. “Forever.”

You both sit there, smiling at each other, the youthfulness in your gazes and you feel impenetrable. The world could build you up and break you down, but you’d still be left standing no matter how much you endured. After all, you both were bad bitches together, forever.

“Okay,” Nicole laughs, unlatching her pinky from yours. “I think that is enough sappiness for tonight. I mean we came to party right?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Great!” She yells, the music from the next room escalating in sound. “Let me get us some drinks.” She stands up, the creak of her bar stool vibrating. “You’ll be okay on your own while I go to the bar right?”

You nod your head, giving her a smile of reassurance. “Yes I’ll be fine, just don’t be gone too long.”

“I won’t! Be right back!” Then she vanishes from sight, being lost in the scatters of students.

Your knee moves up and down, the nerves coursing through your body. You didn’t want to worry her that you wouldn’t necessarily be okay on your own. You were scared of encountering Jeno, Jaehyun or the other two frat boys that you had met. The awkwardness that would surely ensure, you weren’t ready to face. You could only rely on Nicole to be fast when getting the drinks so you wouldn’t be left alone, unguarded for too long. Yet you knew she always did speak words of truth.

You suppose you were partially lucky and partially not for a few minutes went by and Nicole hadn’t returned, but on the other hand no one dared to look in your direction or spark up a conversation for some peculiar reason. You were left untouched contrary to how the other night went.

In your wait nothing of the sort happened, and you were bored, just glancing around the room and at the bright lit screen of your mobile. You just wanted to be buzzed so you could go dance and forge the thoughts that lingered in your mind. Somber when dancing never was a good fit, more so at a party.

But then you caught sight of someone who had faded out of your mind once you stepped foot into the house. It had to be him…it had to be and your suspicions were confirmed as he became closer to you. The same pitch black hair and hooded eyes that you knew by now after seeing him in passing a variety of times.

He was wearing a short sleeve silk button up shirt adorned with a circular pattern of purple, white, and green that had few top buttons undone to allow his white, creamy skin to be seen. He had paired it with black cargo pants, two dangling silver wallet chains looped to the belt and low cut, white Converse that appeared to be customized in the dim light. The silver necklace and bracelet sparkled when he moved, once more his presence stunned you.

You couldn’t let this moment go unscathed because you had to know something about him, anything rather than admiring from afar. The wants of your heart rather than mind served as a driving force once you stood up from your seat and followed after him before he disappeared like the many times before. His bright colored shirt served as an indicator in the crowd, his steps taken leisurely while yours were taken in a rush to ensure you didn’t lose him. You didn’t know where he was headed, hands tucked into his front pockets as if he didn’t want to be there, but you soon did. He took a sharp right heading in route to one of the side doors in the house, ready to exit to the back.

It wasn’t supposed to be chilly that night, but when you stepped into the backyard, chills erupted on your skin and you rubbed your arms to stop yourself from shivering.

You had never seen the backyard before, only ever been secluded to the first floor of the house, yet it was as equally beautiful as the rest of it. There was an expanse of a pool, leveled from the ground of where you stood that was illuminating with stark blue, casting glows among the rest of the yard with the candles that were placed at the sides and the other bright LED lights. You proceeded out to where the patio area was, a few chairs scattered about and a large glass table in the middle. There was another seating area to your left with high bar stools and marble counters lined along the edges leading up to a small outside kitchen with a television screen plastered on the tile. To your right was a fire pit and a few lawn chairs surrounded the area. In front of you, before one would take the stairs up to the pool, was an empty tiled area with a basketball hoop pushed to the side, a place you supposed they interchanged to fit their activities depending on the day.

Besides being mind-blown at the beauty, you were more shocked that no one was outside. It was unnervingly silent give or take the tweets of the birds and hoots of the owls along with the inside pounding of the music, which faded from penetrating through the walls completely.

“You aren’t supposed to be out here, you know.” He spoke in his light and sweet, slightly raspy voice, that directly contrasted his outside demeanor.

You didn’t know how he had sensed someone followed him outside and you probably knew you weren’t all too discreet, but you took a small group of steps to reach him, where his back still remained in your vision. You were embarrassed that he found out so quickly, though you still had to have some ounce of dignity, some ounce of unwavering confidence.

You gulped before speaking, making sure your next words were the right ones. “How do you know I’m not supposed to be?”

He turned his head to look over his shoulder at you, his gaze piercing through your soul. He hitched up a perfectly arched brow, “You aren’t a frat boy are you?”

You were taken aback and shook your head rapidly, stuttering out a response. “N-No…”

He moved his head forward, disregarding you and snickered. “Didn’t think so. The top levels and the backyard are off limits unless you’re part of the frat.”

That made sense as to why no one was out here, but why didn’t they lock the doors? Did they trust no one would come out here? Even when drunk? 

The functions of the NCT frat house dazed you, never truly knowing how everything worked.

You took more careful steps until you reached him, your shoulder a few inches away from his own, the both of you looking forward. You briefly glanced at him, at the side of his face when you asked your next question. “Then why are you out here?”

He chuckles lowly and moves slightly, his gaze is one that mocks, but there was some mirth that twinkled.

You look down at the floor in recognition. “O-Oh…”

He was part of the frat, of course he was. Another gorgeous boy amongst others. He would be permitted outside and at all parties without any invitation. He could dissipate and reappear as he pleased, although it still threw you off. He didn’t truly seem like the person to commit to something, being all too free-spirited and not open to take orders. However, he still was very much in frat and you meditated on what type of position he held, if he had more authority than what he was letting on.

He spins on his heels, refusing to indulge further in a conversation. His hands are still placed in his front pocket as he strides by, not bearing to glimpse at you in his departure. “Next time don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms.”

You stand unmoving, considering his words and the underlying meaning, maybe there would be a next time, although the sensibility comes back once you take note that he is leaving once more. 

“Wait!” You yell, partially taking large strides to catch up to him in your pumps as he stands still, indeed waiting for you. You reach him, deciding against touching his shoulder for fear of the untold. “What’s your name?”

You had to know the name of the handsome boy to settle some part of your heart.

He looks at you this time, really looks at you, as your gazes are interlocked. “You’ll have to earn it, sweetheart.” He reaches his hand out to touch your chin, his soft touch making your eyelids flutter close. He slightly jerks you forward, your eyes opening as his breath fans over your lips. “Not many have the privilege of having my name come out their mouth.” He drops his hand, stepping back to truly depart.

You stay rooted to your spot. He called you another nickname, the butterflies fluttering in your chest at the sound of it escaping his lips. He truly did have an unwanted effect no matter how much you could refuse to acknowledge it.

Before his hand touches the silver handle of the door to go back inside, you call out to him once more.

“Will I at least see you around?” You were hopeful that you would and could.

“Who knows? You’ll just have to wait and see.” He replies ominously and then he grabs the handle, turning it downward to open the door while he steps inside. The door closes on his bright figure as you are left in the backyard by yourself, left with more hope than you had in a long time.

Yes, he was imitating and impersonal , even so he made you coxy all over. You wanted to see him again, you wanted something more. You yearned for it, and standing there observing the closed door, for nothing at all, you had to figure how you could achieve it, that is until you recalled who you were waiting for previously until he had swept your attention away—Nicole.

She had probably already arrived back at the kitchen, losing her head over where you ran off to without any warning. She did have a big imagination, thinking of the worse, nevertheless she could be practical as well, though in this situation at a party, with strange people, the latter wouldn’t sit quite right.

You rushed forward, opening the door with the bang and got lost in the bodies around you. You pushed through with hurried steps, not bothering to apologize as they would either be too drunk to realize or didn’t care after being crushed up against others.

You were finally able to reach the kitchen after much effort, staggering your way forward at the sight of Nicole’s gold satin A-line dress.

She saw you first and the relief that came across her face made you feel guilty for going off on your own.

“Oh thank goodness,” she said, wrapping her hands around your body in order to give you a hug. You wrapped your own hands around her waist to return the gesture. She sighed and let her hands drop, holding you at arm’s length when she moved back.

“I didn’t mean to worry you. I hope I wasn’t gone too long,” you uttered, twiddling with your fingers.

She pats your arm. “I know you didn’t, still wouldn’t stop me. You were only gone for a few minutes when I got back, which isn’t all too bad.”

You hummed, glad everything worked out, that is until she asked the dreaded question.

“Where were you though?” She added with a pointed gaze, her worry and frustration having already faded, only curiosity lingered. “You know you aren’t supposed to go running off anyways.”

“Ah sorry, sorry. I thought I saw Mark, but when I went after him…well it wasn’t Mark.” You let out a nervous giggle, stepping away to sit down on the chair while she remained standing.

Her eyes zoned in on your face before she gave you a once over to see if anything had changed with your appearance. “Mhm…okay. I reckon that makes sense.”

She was suspicious, yet she didn’t push and you didn’t know what you would have done if she had.

If only she would have known who you were with, someone she indirectly warned against and someone you would see many more times thereafter against your control or hers.

You didn’t think it would be so soon when you saw him again, a few days after the party.

You spotted him on your way to class right after your lunch break. He was sporting a baby blue hoodie with words you couldn’t make out scribbled across the chest, light washed ripped skinny jeans, a blue cap with the words Supreme etched out in white on a red background, and Balenciaga black and white speed sneakers. He had a black leather backpack swung over one shoulder and airpods in his ears.

You had to do a double take when you saw him before you because his outfit was contrary to his natural esoteric aura. You didn’t think he could look so innocent and pure in baby blue.

You didn’t think twice before you jogged forward to meet him, surely not debating possible consequences right then and there.

“Um…hey,” you voiced as you stood side by side with him, walking to wherever he was headed to, when you knew it was the exact opposite of where you were meant to go, however it didn’t matter. They always say the heart wants what it wants.

He took his right airpod out, putting it in the case that dangled from his belt loop. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”

Your eyes widened, you didn’t expect him to be so straightforward and shameless. You were still touched that he remembered you, even if his tone seemed the opposite of welcoming.

“Uh…um…I…” you started, not sure what to say or even ask. You didn’t expect to get this far.

He abruptly stopped, turning his whole body to face you. “Well?” He fixes his hat, hoisting it up slightly to peer at you for a split second, his eyes covered by his jet back, long strands of hair, making it difficult to make direct eye contact. “Get on with it.”

You shook your head, rocking back and forth on the heels of your sneakers. “Sorry, I just wanted to ask if you um…” You paused, peeking at him then at the gray concrete, racking your brain for something, anything. “Wanted to get coffee sometime?”

Some instances passed, no word mentioned by him and you knew that the silence meant you weren’t going to be so lucky. He rejected you—your offer and you had to live with that, your not so discreet attempt at scoring a date.

Until he thunderstrucks you.

He tilts his head and shrugs his shoulders, answering with a firm, “Sure.”

You were positive you hadn’t heard him right. There was no way he agreed to get coffee. You knew you had set yourself for rejection, nonetheless he proved you wrong. Somewhere deep down maybe you had a chance.

“Oh…um…okay then. Should I get your number then?” You couldn’t see his eyes, despite that you knew the intensity they held, some sort of judgment at your boldness. You stuttered, “Y-You know s-o we can s-set a t-time and p-place.”

He shook his head, taking his airpod out of the case and placing it in his ear again. He leaned forward, his face inches away from yours and whispered in your ear, “No, you have to earn that too, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flutter at the proximity and his special nickname that he now began to use. You worry that he can hear the loud pounding of your heart from how near he was.

He backs away and strides forward, not before stating an answer to your unsaid question. “Meet me at the café on Second Street and Thorn at 2:30pm sharp, this Friday. It’s the only chance you get, sweetheart so take it or leave it.”

Then he’s off, leaving you to comprehend what fully happened in a few short minutes. He agreed to coffee and set a date so rapidly, the thought of not having his number leaving your mind. You were finally one step closer to discovering who he truly was and it took a small leap, one he returned in his own way.

You were giddy when you spun in the other direction to get to your last class for the day, nearly skipping on your way there and your happiness would continue till the end of the week, when the desirable day arrived.

In fact, Mark and Nicole noticed your more than cheerful mood, glad that not everything in your life wasn’t as shitty as they perceived it to be because college was more often than none dreadful at times with constant work, some of which were surely questionable. Yet they didn’t complain because your happiness meant theirs too, even if they didn’t know the cause and you hoped you could keep it that way. You weren’t prepared to see the outcomes if they found out it was a he, Mark’s very own frat brother that was to blame for the shift in your mood.

Friday came around in record’s time and when you exited your third class for the day, on your way to the designated café during your lunch break, you weren’t all that tense. Sure, you pondered on what would happen and if he would leave you hanging as you strolled through the doors, nonetheless you could be with him and it was all that mattered.

He didn’t set you up for devastation once the bell above the café doors rung because as soon as you got through the entrance you saw him huddled up at the table in the corner of the room. His head was down as he was scrolling through his cell phone absentmindedly, his bright red high top Converse contrasting the black and white tiled floor. He had on a classic black leather jacket that was thrown over a red, blue, and white checkered flannel with a white GUESS t-shirt underneath, which wasn’t tucked into his loose blue jeans.

A style he pulled off so effortlessly.

He peered up when you were heading his way and pocketed his cell phone in his jeans.

“Hey,” you commented, sliding into the wooden chair opposite of him.

He nodded his head, not selecting to give a verbal response of greeting. “I assume you haven’t eaten lunch yet. We can get you something to eat and a coffee too if you want. Though I am not sure if you want to drink that in the middle of the day.”

“Um…yeah, sure. It’s my lunch break right now so I haven’t eaten anything.”

“Good,” he stated and pushed his chair back to stand up, not waiting for you as he strolled to the front counter. He was quick on his feet and seemed to be one to leave people in the dust.

His eyes were flitting left and right to inspect the menu. He didn’t spare you a regard when you were shoulder to shoulder.

“What do you want?”

You squinted at the menu looking at the drinks section and at the food they offered. They had a wide selection, very beneficial for a café and your hunger that needed to be sufficed.

“Uh…a small iced coffee with a caramel swirl and almond milk. Light on the ice and a California club croissant sandwich, no tomatoes please,” you recite to the cashier when they appeared after he asked the question. They nodded their head, typing your order into the screen, then their eyes peered expectedly at the boy next to you.

“A medium iced golden ginger and club sandwich.”

“Okay!” The cashier enthusiastically noted, their fingers typing away. “Your total will come out to $21.77. Cash or credit?”

You scrabbled to take your cell phone out your back pocket, seeing the opportunity to pay first, since you technically invited him out, he only accepted your invitation.

Just when you were able to raise your device to the scanner, he placed his platinum credit card on the counter, sliding it over to the cashier.

“I’ll pay,” he announced as the cashier swiped his card and handed it back to him moments after. You nodded your head slowly, putting your phone back in your pocket, and slightly slouching your shoulders in defeat.

“Here’s your receipt,” the cashier declared, holding out the white gloss paper over to your companion. He took it swiftly from their grasp and crumbled the paper into his front pocket.

“We’ll have your order out momentarily,” they smiled sweetly before turning away to prepare your drinks and food.

He walked away from the counter and back to the spot hidden away from view. You both sat down and he propped his leg on the empty chair next to you.

“So…” you trailed, clasping your hands together on the wooden table. You focused on him and he stared right back, the zeal so very hard to bear. “What’s your major?”

“Neuroscience.”

The shock surely mirrored in your face. 

He was a science major? 

Anything in relation to science would be at the bottom of the list for a career he would pursue, you would think, because he appeared to be anything but. Despite your assumptions, he indubitably had surprises up his sleeve.

“W-What? You major in biological and biomedical science?”

“Yes,” he leans forward with a tilt of his head, placing his own hands on the table. “Let me fathom, I don’t seem like a science major?”

You shake your head. “Y-Yes…No…I mean I truthfully thought you were an art major, specifically in fashion design or something of the alike.”

He presses on, “Why is that?”

“Well…I don’t know. A hunch I guess,” you shrug your shoulders, not knowing what you were truly getting at. “You just strike me as a very creative person with a great sense of style. You even wore something customized the other day. I am sure you did that yourself.”

He leans back, crossing his arms in his chair. “You aren’t wrong. I like art, but more as a hobby and I happen to have natural fashion taste. Customizing clothes and shoes is just a pastime.”

You nod your head slowly. Not everything is as it seems. “Oh…well, it still holds true in some regard.”

“Indeed,” he murmurs.

You both get interrupted at the arrival of your food and drinks. The young girl serves the plates and drinks, a kind beam etched onto her face. Her gaze lingers too long on him when she asks if anything else is needed before she trudges away and he would be a fool not to notice. He disregards it, however, opting to ignore. You wished you could remain as neutral as he was, still the green, ugly monster couldn’t help but claw in your being.

While you were going to continue to ask him questions to get to know him better, you decided against it. Maybe after you finished your meal so you ate in silence, the occasional slurp and chewing sounds filling the quietness, regardless of those that came and went into the café.

He wipes his mouth clean with his spare napkin once he finishes eating, crumbling it up in a ball when he’s done. “Your major, what is it?”

You look up, in the midst of sipping the last droplets of your iced coffee and give him a small smile. “I’m a psychology major.”

“Ah,” he says, pushing his plate forward to the center of the table.

You thought he would add on, but he doesn’t and you decide to further the conversation.

“I know you already told me a hobby of yours, any more you have though?”

“I compose music,” he shrugs, raising his arms in the air to stretch. “I cook too.” His arms lower and he rests them on the empty chair to his right. You knew he wouldn’t ask you about your own hobbies as he seemed to like being on the receiving end and didn’t seem all too interested in you, when you wanted to know everything in contrast.

You decide to speak up for yourself, to permit him to know some things about you too. “Well I like to bake and I do some graphic design on the side.”

He nods his head for the unkempt time that day. You wished he would talk more than use actions. His voice was all more soothing to listen to.

“How about—”

You are cut off by a ding sounding from his cell as he checks the screen that illuminates with a notification. He stands up abruptly, his cell phone held tightly in his grasp.

“I have to go. I’ll see you around…” He pauses peering down at your furrowed brows. “We should do this again sometime.”

Did he say that correctly?

You were sure this “date” was more boring rather than entertaining.

Your eyes furrow even more as you’re amazed at his open admittance to another so-called gathering between the two of you. You were going to ask yourself, but he beat you to it.

“Sure,” you replied with a kind smile. “I’d like that.”

His head movement is slight and you notice his agreeance. He steps away from the table and your hand reaches out to catch onto the cool leather of his jacket before you can stop yourself.

He eyeballs you expectantly, wondering why you had stopped him.

“Does that mean I can get your number?” you question with a tilt of your head.

He chuckles lowly at your shamelessness. “I suppose you earned it, sweetheart.”

He takes his cell phone out of his pocket, handing it over to you in order to put in all your contact information while you take out your own device from your pocket to give to him. You take his cell from his grasp and type away your first name along with your phone number. Once the electronics are returned to their respectful owners, you glance down at the name he put into his phone, holding onto the fact that it could very much be his real name, except it wasn’t. He had named himself “NCT 1,” and you had to roll your eyes from the name of choice.

You slightly giggle and you can see the ghost of a smile on his face when he went his way towards the exit. The bell dings when he’s gone and as you look at his retreating figure in the huge glass window, a smile twitches on your face, one so very wide.

Your little lunch “date” went better than expected and it was one of many for more to come, serving as the much needed catalyst. Over the next couple of weeks, you would text with the boy whose name wasn’t disclosed and bask in his presence over the semi-dates you had with each other, ranging from ones at the same café for lunch or ones late at night in the library. They varied and whenever you met up, there was a sparkle in your eyes and a lightness in your chest. You were able to get to know him more and more, to truly understand him, to get to see what laid beyond the surface of his façade. He was more than what meets the eye, even if he seemed to deflect his fair share of personal information, you still had gotten closer. He wouldn’t have asked to meet up so often if you hadn’t liked the company and you wouldn’t have agreed if you thought he was a waste of time.

The only aspect that was frustrating was his refusal to share his name or even give a hint at what it could be. He would deflect, saying it didn’t matter and all that did was the moments with each other, yet his reassurance did little to suppress your ever growing curiosity. However, he had eventually cracked at your most recent study date.

“It’s Lee…Lee Taeyong,” he proclaimed randomly when you were scribbling down notes and he was reading a passage for his assigned reading in the dim corner of the library at nearly ten past eleven at night. The sound of the tick-tock filling the void of silence.

“Huh?” you asked, placing your pen down on the table and glancing up at him, head tilted, forehead wrinkled.

“My name,” he cleared his throat, locking eyes with you. “My name is Lee Taeyong.”

You had gotten a name that night to attach to the gorgeous boy you now knew more than ever about and his name was as equally captivating as himself.

Although contrary to your meetups, you rarely saw him around campus and if you did so happen to see him, he always seemed to be with a fellow frat brother, refusing to acknowledge you if you looked his way. It was odd in contrast to how he acted when you two were alone, and somehow you understood where he was coming from. You wouldn’t want to be caught either with him. Too many questions to deal with after, too much judgment and disappointment.

Despite that fear hidden in the back of your mind, he unknowingly made you happy, beyond content for a reason that was too hard to explain and too obvious to those around you.

Mark and Nicole knew something was up, but never lodged on the matter, regarding that joy could be found anywhere and in anything. Yet, you weren’t as subtle with your dashing off or disappearing for long periods of time when the meet ups became more frequent. They would eventually catch on, although you would remain blinded by the manufactured bubble of joy that was created.

So your then high became a low.

You blame Mark, but at the same time you don’t because you knew you had to be cautious. 

He invited you that week for a small get together at his frat house, nothing grand like the parties they hosted nearly every two weeks on a Friday. No, this gathering would be for close friends and companions, just for some lighthearted fun, to serve as a destresser before the hell weeks would start in December. It was a Thanksgiving celebration of sorts, a Friendsgiving where you would come together and strengthen your bonds with each other, regardless of how much you knew of the others who would join. 

He invited you and Nicole like he always did with any event that revolved around his fraternity or partying in general. You thought it would be nice to come, to spend some quality time with your best friends that you felt you hadn’t seen in forever, too preoccupied with Taeyong to have some time with them. He was far from your mind when Mark extended the invitation and you wished your common sense would have kicked in earlier, before the small party began, because he was in fact part of the fraternity and would very much be there.

You shouldn’t have been shocked when you saw him right when you ambled into the house with Mark and Nicole in tow. He was chatting with Johnny, the tall boy you hadn’t seen in so long ever since that encounter months ago. He held a champagne glass in one hand while the other was tucked into his black jeans. He had his signature chains intertwined in the belt loops with a light lavender turtleneck, that had a graphic design in blue of a person’s lower face in the center of the chest, tucked into his jeans, and a black and white tweed blazer thrown over the top. His shiny, black dress shoes completed the outfit as he was surely one of the best dressed by far. Even if the event was semi-formal and everyone you saw littering around in the entryway were classy, yet simple in their approaches, he managed to catch your eye right away.

“Ah, if it isn’t little Lee arriving right on time!” Johnny yells out, striding over in big steps to where the three of you stood by the entrance.

Mark rolls his eyes at the nickname, but goes in for a half handshake and hug. “Hey at least I made it and also it isn’t little Lee anymore, remember? If anything I am the middle Lee.” 

“Still won’t stop me from calling you little Lee, little Lee.” Johnny slaps him on the shoulder, his laughter echoing. “I see you brought two stunning ladies in tow too.” He directs his attention to you and Nicole, not bothering to conceal the fact that he was blatantly checking the both of you out.

“Looks like we meet again, gorgeous,” Johnny states, reaching for your hand and giving a light kiss to the skin, a wink thrown after you retract your hand.

You don’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Hi Johnny,” you mutter with a sickly gratifying smile plastered across your face.

He laughs once more as his eyes then trail to Nicole who stands unfazed and slightly bored at the appearance of Johnny.

“Well I don’t think we’ve met before. I would have remembered a face like yours, someone so absolutely breathtaking,” he cheekily vocalizes.

It is now Nicole’s turn to roll her eyes and she takes steps to get nearer to Johnny, his eyebrows shooting up at her boldness, but then a smirk rests on his face.

She reaches out her hand and pats him on the chest before he gets the chance to kiss her hand. “Save the flirting for someone else, will you mate? For someone you at least have a chance with because it ain’t me honey,” she drawls, stepping away to go further inside the house, waving her hand in the air as a farewell.

Mark and you stifle back laughter at her shamelessness. She sure was something, you would admit.

“Fuck you guys,” Johnny remarks, flipping both you and Mark off, yet you could see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he retreats after Nicole.

“She’s something, huh?” Someone says, taking the thoughts right out of your head.

“Yeah,” you respond, wiping your finger under your eyes from how hilarious that scene played out. “She sure is.”

And that is when you pause in realization. You knew that voice.

You turn around to come face to face with an all too familiar boy—Lee Taeyong.

You chuckled timidly, fumbling with your fingers as you fix your gaze on him. His eyebrow is arched and when he takes a sip of his champagne you can see his smile reflected in the glass.

“Oh!” Mark exclaims, putting his arm around your shoulder, an action that makes Taeyong’s eyes harden in the smallest way, or maybe you were imagining it. “I don’t think you guys have been introduced to each other before. This is Taeyong angel, and Taeyong this is—”

Taeyong doesn’t let Mark finish, muttering out a stern, “I know who she is Mark, I’ve seen her around with you before.”

“Oh,” Mark lets out, his enthusiastic self diminishing. “That makes sense.”

Taeyong nods and lifts his glass in your direction, his eyes refusing to make contact for more than a second. “Nice to meet you.”

You mumble back with a slight frown you desperately try to hide. You conjectured why he was acting so cold. “You too.”

“Okay, anyways…” Mark trails off looking between the two of you, trying to figure out if something was up. “I am going to get a drink. You ready, angel?” He asks you when he peers at the side of your face.

You give Mark a small smile, nodding your head. “Yeah, but…um I have to use the restroom first.”

Though before you could depart, someone else makes an appearance, someone you forgot about and would make matters much more complicated than they need to be.

“Yo Mark! They need help with the drinks in the back,” he yells walking into the room, jabbing his finger behind him. “They apparently stocked up on their orders of alcohol so it’s a lot.” 

You glance at the entrance when you hear his voice and your heart stops in your chest. 

What the hell was Lee Jeno doing here?

Mark’s arm drops from your shoulder, giving a roll of his eyes. “Of course they fucking did. I'll be right there.” He doesn’t spare Jeno another glance and neither do you, desperately trying to conceal yourself from his line of sight. Mark regards you with kind eyes, knowing you had questions he would answer at a more convenient time about why Jeno was here. He continues on from before he was interrupted. “You know where the restroom is right?”

Your eyes can’t help but flit to where Jeno stood, trying to see if he left, but when you look over Mark’s shoulder, you see him patiently waiting for the older boy and his eyes are already staring right at you. You gulp, turning back to look at Mark. “Yes, I do,” you step away from him, not spearing another glance at Taeyong or Jeno as you get lost down the hall towards the bathroom. 

Although you do manage to see the way everyone’s eyes follow your figure and the way Jeno had slightly placed his foot forward, debating to follow after you or not, yet he retreats to follow after Mark instead to help in the back.

You didn’t really have to go to the restroom, you just wanted to get away from the suffocating room with the three boys, for the dread that your secrets would get revealed if you weren’t cautious.

You hear the footsteps before you see him and you just knew there was a chance he would be the one to follow you.

You don’t have to turn around to confirm your suspicions, wrapping your arms around your body.

“What was that?” he questions lowly.

You groan. “What do you mean what was that? You were the one acting all cold.”

His hand reaches out to hold your upper arm, turning you to face him, except you don’t, opting to check out the floor.

“I was so-called cold,” he makes quotation marks once his hand drops. “Because you refused to acknowledge me. Do I also have to mention the way I saw you look at Jeno? Don’t think I didn’t see it sweetheart, because I did and I’m sure anyone else with two eyes could see it too.”

You shake your head, scoffing at his bluntness. “Oh, of course you would point that out, but it isn’t that deep. Don’t let jealousy cloud your vision, Yong,” you drawl and you see the way his eyes go dark. “It isn’t me you should be concerned about, when you were acting all high and mighty way before.”

He stays silent because he knew you were right, yet it does little to lessen his hard stare. “Listen you know we can’t be seen together or seen as if we know each other, it will raise too many questions.” You placed your hand on his bicep, his previous declaration about Jeno not holding any importance. Your eyes become so round and wide that he can feel his heart slightly crack. “I don’t want any of them to be upset at me or question my sensibility.”

He pursues his lips, “I understand that, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I understand and I apologize for the way I acted. I apologize for acting like an ass.” His attention moved to the floor, his strands of hair falling over his face and you let out a small giggle from his candor. 

You maneuver your hand to cup his cheek, rubbing his cheek. “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

The moment lasts for the shortest while all due to Mark’s loud voice calling your name.

“Shit,” you muttered, dropping your hand. “He can’t see you.” You push Taeyong in the direction further down the hallway, that you hoped would lead somewhere away from where Mark would reach in a few more steps.

Taeyong doesn’t utter a word and paces down the hall without so much as a goodbye, just in time when Mark squints his eyes to make out your figure, but he wasn’t looking at you, rather behind you.

He caught sight of Taeyong and you were doomed.

“Angel…” he trails off, his eyes still squinted in scrutiny. “Why were you with Taeyong?”

“W-What?” You stutter in response, swearing at yourself internally at the fact that you gave it away in just one word. Mark knew you were hiding something whenever you stumbled over your words.

“You heard me, why were you with Taeyong?”

The way he was saying the boy’s name and the implications in his pitch of voice stirred something inside of you. You needed to defend him more than yourself.

“Why can’t I?” 

He regards you with somber eyes and reaches forward to take your hand. “Angel...”

You step away from him, tucking your hands into your body. “No, answer me.”

He is startled at your seriousness and evident protest. You were never one to turn away from him.

“He’s just…” he pauses, struggling to find the right words, ones that wouldn’t destroy you. He decides against finishing his sentence, choosing the all too familiar words. “Be careful. Just be careful, angel.”

Your brows furrow and that is when you lose it.

“Be careful,” you scoff, letting your hands free from around your body. “Everyone says that. Be careful. Be careful, but of what?” You throw your hands up in the air, frustration seeping in your voice. “What do I have to be careful of Mark?”

Mark visibly winces at the sound of his name coming from your lips, you never called him that, not since you first met those fateful years ago. You called him Markie and always Markie, which is how he knew you were truly upset. 

“Tell me. For goodness sake tell me! He’s just a boy like the rest of you in this forsaken frat house of yours. So why, oh why, can’t I be seen with him!?”

You pace back and forth, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to keep composure that you lost at the start.

Mark heaves a sigh, he knew where you were coming from, it was all too common and seeing you in this predicament made him ache more than you’ll ever know.

He whispers his next words carefully, scared at what your answer could mean when he asked. “You like him don’t you?” His eyes flickering close for the merest moment in wait. 

You resemble someone who’s deepest, darkest secret just got exposed after trying so hard to cover the tracks when he peered at you.

“I never said that.” Your clenched hands relaxed as you now nervously fiddled with your fingers.

“No and you don’t need to, but it isn’t hard to tell. I saw the way you looked at him when we came inside. After all, actions speak louder than words.”

Silence. 

The tick-tock of the clock somewhere in the hall, decreasing. 

The laughs and chatters of those in the other rooms, muffled. 

All that was heard were the steady breaths of you and Mark.

Mark disturbs the quietude first. “Angel I—”

You rapidly shake your head. “Mark…stop,” you whisper and he closes his mouth before he can finish. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty. If I like him I do, and if I don’t then you don’t have to worry. Just let me figure out things on my own.” 

You lock eyes with him, the tears prickling the corner of your eye as you stride forward. “Please…just please….let me live once on my own terms rather than your own.” You don’t lay your eyes on him again after your last words are spoken, you simply trudge away, leaving two boys who held pieces of your heart in different ways.

You couldn’t help but ponder over the words of Mark as you were plodding to the exit of the house, no longer wishing to stay because of the mess that was created all within less than an hour.

Twisting open the door and letting it shut close, believing that no one saw you leave, you were encompassed in the night. The twinkling stars overhead and the white glow of the moon shining down, the fluorescent lights of the house adding to brightness. 

Peeping at the sky, everything flooded your mind at once. 

Were you really starting to fall like Mark said? Was it really that obvious? That you had caught feelings for a boy that seemed to be off limits and that you were warned about?

Did you truly like Lee Taeyong?

Those were the questions floating around, all that you couldn’t answer because you knew you wouldn’t like the result. 

You were never good at feelings or admittance of faults, you choose to ignore them, but this was one of those times you couldn’t entirely push them aside because they meant something more. They were unlike anything ever felt and you never truly liked mystery, no matter if it drew you in. You had to figure out what was different and if it was worth the risk to take.

You didn’t necessarily find out the answers to the questions that plagued your mind when your next friendly date came around with Taeyong, this one unlike the others before, being on a Friday after classes and at a cute ice cream parlor you had found one day, nestled between a bookshop and the farmer’s mart. 

All the bad blood between you from last Friday had diminished into nothing, you forgave and forgot as he did as well. That was the only argument you ever truly had ever since your friendship blossomed, the last one you would ever encounter if you were lucky.

Stepping inside and finding a seat while Taeyong got the ice cream after asking for your order, you clasped your hands together tightly, your knuckles turning white. 

You knew what you had to do today, before your outing ended and Taeyong left till the next time you would see him. Three words that had the ability to bring people together or tear them apart.

He scraped the chair across the tile, startling you as he sat down and placed a cup of cookie dough ice cream down along with a green tea flavored one. He took the latter for himself, and pushed the other cup in your direction, the small pink spoon poking out.

“Bon appetit,” he exclaims and takes a large spoonful of his ice cream while you leave your dessert unscathed. You suddenly lost your appetite, dreading what would come.

“Hey,” he says, tapping his index finger on your hand, the cool metal of his ring causing you to shiver. “What’s wrong?”

He takes his hand back and places it on the table. You always noticed how he never initiated skinship or desired to touch like you wished him to do. If anything his touch would only linger for a few seconds, whether it be a pat on the hand or a palm on your shoulder, nothing too grand that had to bear on for eternity. 

You cleared your throat, not maintaining eye contact with him any more.. “I have to tell you something…”

He hummed in response as an indicator to keep you going.

“It’s frankly frightening for me to admit and I have no idea if you feel the same, but I just have to tell you. To get this weight off my chest, even if I am setting myself up for the worst,” you stop and reach your hand over the table to place it on top of his, being bold with disregard to your observations. You don’t even notice the way he slightly flinches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I guess over our time of getting to know each other, something further stirred in my chest. In fact it was already there but it was more profound once I got to know the type of person you are—someone who isn’t so esoteric or unexpressive. Someone who indeed has a fragile, yet caring heart and maybe it took a slap in the face to notice, but…Yong…”

Your thumb caressed his skin as you peered at him with so very gentle eyes and his own remained stoic.

You took a deep breath—make or break. “I like you.”

He retracted his hand so briskly, it was if he had gotten burned. He rubbed at his hand, where your touch still lingered. He shakes his head rapidly, “No…No…No. You can’t…”

This is the first time he ever denied to make eye contact with you and you felt your heart shatter both at his words as well as actions.

Rejection.

You should have expected this, but your all too positive outlook on life was your downfall.

You croaked out, “What do you mean you can’t?”

You deserved some sort of explanation, he couldn’t leave you hanging.

He turned his head to finally see you and you could make out the coherent regret in his eyes, with an ounce of pity. You didn’t want pity, you wanted understanding.

“Baby…” You cower back at the affectionate name, his hands holding onto each other so tightly you could only see white. He repeats himself again, the internal battle he was having with himself unknown to you. “Baby, I’m afraid to fall in love. ‘Cause what if it’s not reciprocated?”

Another crack and a few more you would be gone, submerging yourself in tears of regret.

“B-But it is. Can’t you see? I like you and you—”

He cuts you off, standing up from his chair abruptly, the sound catching the attention of those that sat at the tables near you.

“No,” he shakes his head one more, this time calmer than the last. “No, there’s a difference. You’re infatuated with me. You just like the idea of me so don’t call me your lover, don’t tell me you have feelings for me, when you don’t even love me.”

His words were an arrow to the heart.

How could he possibly know your feelings when he couldn’t even tell his own?

His warning echoes in your ears when he leaves, the slam of the door scaring those inside the parlor but you remain unfazed. This was more than rejection, it was a declaration, a calling for lonely souls that would never find love.

After all, they say all good things come to an end and after you were sparked with a surge of boldness to confess, Lee Taeyong walked away from you, when you thought he would be by your side.

He forgets about you that day and if only it was easy to forget about him.

You weren’t as good as hiding things as you thought you were because your somber mood could be seen for miles. Mark had an idea of why you were so upset, after all he seemed to know every detail when it came to your nonexistent love life, especially since he saw Taeyong nearly every day. On the other hand, Nicole had no idea since she didn’t know Taeyong and you never told her, but she had a hunch it had to do with a boy. Whenever you were down, even in high school, it always had to be because of a boy who wasn’t worth your time as she always reminded you.

You don’t know how much time had passed since your last encounter with Taeyong, since that last fateful day. Time either went by faster or slower whenever you were sad, though more often than none it was the latter. Despite everything you still found yourself meeting up with your best friends and staying on top of your classes, pushing aside any invitations you received for a frat or sorority party when you knew you had the potential to see him there. You knew you would crumble if you did and that weakness was one you weren’t quite ready to share.

So it was Wednesday of the however many days had gone and when you were poking at your salad, refusing to eat more than a few leaves, that Mark speaks up inside the cafeteria, at your usual meet up. Only small remarks were ever made at those now, they knew you weren’t in the right state of mind to talk, but he does so anyways. 

“Angel, I’m sorry.”

His words burn a hole through your heart, of course he was, he was the one that said to be careful—him and Nicole.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you mutter angrily and swipe your backpack off the chair with your books in hand, your tray with you unfinished food in the other. You stand up and leave the cafeteria so fast it takes a while for Nicole and Mark to truly comprehend yet they don’t come after you. Some friends they could be

You dump your leftover meal into the trashcan and place the tray on the top of the metal your way out. You were more frustrated and pissed off than anything else. Today was clearly not your day, it hasn’t been in such a long time and it was why you decided to skip your last class for the day even if it would bite you back in the ass.

You had no problem getting into your car and speeding down the highway to your apartment, too gone when you arrived at your complex. You wanted to take a long awaited nap and maybe cry yourself to sleep to get rid of the icky feelings you had all over.

You stagger your way through the door after pushing it open and down the narrow hall to your bedroom. You don’t bother to change out of your school clothes, choosing to just kick off your Vans before you crash face forward into your soft mattress. Just when you are about to close your eyes you hear a knock at your door.

You hoick your head up with a groan. 

Who the fuck would be here right now?

You have no choice but to get your lazy and gloomy ass out of bed to answer the door, not prepared to see who is on the other side of the wooden frame.

You open the door to none other than Lee fucking Taeyong, in all his glory, with his smooth parted hair that fell over his forehead and his so very gorgeous face. His stylish outfit was more dressed down than ever with a simple blue Gucci hoodie, baggy blue jeans that were cuffed at the ankles, and some simple white sneakers. Yet, he looked the exact same as he did that day, no ounce of any toll the event had taken on him, but if you inspected closely enough, you could see the bags under his eyes. He hadn’t been getting much sleep and neither had you, something that made you feel a little bit better, that he had his own fair share of pain after what he did to you—the both of you.

“Oh hell,” you muttered immediately, closing the door on his face, but his foot makes contact with the door, stopping you from fully shutting the entryway.

You groan, you determine you would have to deal with him eventually so might as well get it over with. You open the door widely, ushering him in with a dramatic gesture that he has to hold back a laugh from due to your annoyance.

You close the door, locking it shut while you regard him with deadpan eyes. “Okay what the hell are you doing here? No, no…wait. How did you get my apartment number? I never told you.”

The seriousness in your gaze slightly frightens him, he had never seen you look so unlike yourself. Your features were always soft and welcoming, but now they were rough and seemed so lifeless.

He gulps, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket, his left leg moving up and down. “I asked Mark where you were…actually no, he called me. He was worried about you and wanted me to check up on you, to resolve what’s going on with us.” He waves a hand between the two of your bodies and you can’t but roll your eyes. He couldn’t even say what the matter was, he had no idea what he did wrong.

When he notices you won’t speak another word, he continues on, “Listen, sweetheart.” He notices your wince at the all too nostalgic nickname, still continuing on. “Mark cares about you, he really does and you shouldn’t ignore him. You shouldn’t push him or Nicole away…please don’t for my sake at least.”

You scoff, crossing your hands over your chest, “You’re one to talk.”

“Trust me I know but—“

You cut him off, eyes zoning in on his face, diverting the conversation another way. You still didn’t know why he truly came. “What are you doing here Taeyong?”

“I already told you—“

“No,” you cut him off once more, eyes narrowing even further, “Why are you really here and don’t say for Mark or Nicole. Why did you decide to come?”

He stutters, you never saw him stutter. He was always calm and collected, so sure of himself. “I-I just really wanted to see you…I missed you.”

Those mere words are when you burst.

“You can’t say that! You can’t. You ghosted me for days, for weeks, I don’t know how long it has been. I reached out to your friends, your fellow frat brothers to ask where you were and they always deflected, saying you were too busy with assignments, with everything else going on in your life, especially finals coming up. But I could see it in their eyes, Taeyong.”

He winces at his full name. You always opted to call him Yong or any other variation of his name, but not Taeyong.

“I could tell they were lying to me. You weren’t as busy as they said. In fact you know…” You turn your attention away to look at the clock in the kitchen. “I saw you the other day when I came out of the library. It was already dark out and you know,” you could feel your tears slipping out and the look of absolute guilt plagues his face. He never wanted you to cry because of him.  “Someone was with you, a boy, a girl, a frat brother, I don’t know, but you had this smile on your face that I could see for miles. You never smiled at me like that before and I knew in some small way that you were doing well, while I was over here beating myself about everything revolving around my stupid confession. So you know what? Don’t say you miss me when you don’t really mean it. Don’t give me too many words, too many excuses and not enough love…just…” you choke on your words, breaking down, piece by piece. “Get out.”

He looks destroyed at your last words and reaches out his hand, “I—”

You turn your body away from him, cowering into yourself.

He releases a sigh, he knew you wouldn’t budge. “Okay, okay. I’ll go.”

So he leaves, going out the front door and withdrawing from your life once more. You only wish he fought back and didn’t surrender to defeat.

But it isn’t even twenty-four hours later when Lee Taeyong comes knocking at your door another time, on your way out for your morning class for the day. He rushes in with messy bed hair, a striped black and red long sleeve shirt, baggy black jeans, and some brown Converse.

He came back for you after all and it touched your heart, mending some pieces that were broken from his own faults, even when the rest of your soul wanted you to stay mad at him.

He places his hands on your shoulder, directing your eye contact solely to him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart for what I said and how I acted. It was never my intention to harm you, but I was scared of the feelings that you voiced, the ones I wasn’t sure if I could return so I ran away from it, from you, leaving you in pain because I couldn’t admit anything to myself. I apologize and I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me.”

You could tell the sincerity in his words, how he was speaking from his heart rather than his mind. He truly was sorry and you both knew you would be all right even with a bump like this in the road. It was inevitable, everyone fought, for stupid or valid reasons, an aspect part of the cycle of life, but you could overcome that obstacle as would he. 

You took Taeyong’s hand into your own, a smile on your face, one that made him release a sigh that you weren’t mad. “I get it, Yongie. I get it and I forgive you. You did hurt me, I admit, but hey what’s life without a little woe?”

He lightly laughs and squeezes your hand, the relief noticeable in his face. “Thank you.”

“But it still doesn’t bypass the fact that I caused you distress too and I apologize for that as well. We offended each other unintentionally, but I am glad we are somewhat okay.”

He steps back from you, his hands covered by his long sleeves. “I sure hope so, but sweetheart?”

You hum.

“I can’t return your feelings. I can’t, no matter how much you want me to.”

You nod your head, your smile now sad. “It’s okay. I might want something more, but you can’t give that and it’s okay. To be in love is both a blessing and a curse. I’ll just have to live with it and learn to get over it. You can’t have control over who you fall in love with.”

“I wish I could,” he mutters.

You shake your head, “You can’t change what’s meant to be.”

His regretful eyes lock onto you when he ushers his hand out, if not lovers then there was something even equally or more so valuable. “Friends?”

You latch your hand onto his, “Friends.”

Then all is well with Lee Taeyong as you go back to your usual routine, hanging out on select days, whenever you both were free, but with the end of the December having rolled around you saw less and less of him. You were both busy with taking your finals, but he had more on his plate being a third year. It was hard to set aside time to go out or even text as he became drowned in his ever increasing workload.

You suppose that should have served as a warner because then everything goes downhill like the rollercoaster that explained your life.

Mark is the one that delivers the news at the end of finals week when you all gathered at your apartment for a much needed Disney movie marathon—the trio back again after a much stressful week. You rarely saw each other, too immersed in your studies and wants to receive high marks.

“Thank goodness hell week is over,” Nicole groans, stretching her body on the couch. “I felt like I was going to pass out by the time it was Wednesday.”

“I feel ya, sister,” you murmur, planting yourself down on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in your hands. “I was about to give up.”

Mark rolls his eyes when he sits down next to you, placing the bowl of assorted candy on the floor. “You guys are exaggerating. First year finals aren’t too bad. Just wait till next year.”

Nicole reaches over and whacks the top of Mark’s head as he lets out a whine. “Hey!”

“Shut up, you motherfucker,” she states, sneaking a hand into the popcorn in your grasp. “This isn’t about you.”

“I never said it was.”

“You always complain. Do you ever shut up?”

“Guys!” you yell amidst their argument.

“Why the hell are you attacking me?”

“Why not? It’s fun.”

“Guys!” you yell once more, your voice raising that catches their attention.

Mark sheepishly smiles at you, but not before sending a glare at Nicole, one which she returns. 

“Sorry, angel.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him. “Can we just pick a movie?”

He nods his head and grabs the remote on the glass table, opening Disney Plus and scrolling through the selection of movies.

You hear the chewing of Nicole and the clicking of the remote, filling up the quietness in contrast to the noise that was prevalent before.

You ask a question, meekly, not particularly addressing anyone in the room once Mark lands on a movie suggestion. “Do you know how Taeyong is?”

Nicole’s chewing ceases and Mark looks over at you, still holding onto the remote. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I hadn’t seen him since the week before finals. He said he would text me once it was over, but I haven’t received anything and today is the last day before break.”

You see Mark lock eyes with Nicole, them having a silent conversation that you had no clue to decipher. Nicole gives a nod to Mark and your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, allowing Mark to speak up in a whisper. “He didn’t tell you?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Tell me what?”

He swears under his breath, moving closer to you to grasp your hands. “Angel…he’s leaving.”

You try to tug your hands away, but he won’t let you go. “What do you mean leaving?”

“He’s going to the states for a master’s program at Harvard, he received a full ride to study neuroscience. He finished all his credits early so he was able to graduate this semester instead of in another year like he was supposed to. His flight leaves tomorrow morning. He wanted to get an early start to settle down and everything.”

Mark finally lets go of your hands, giving a squeeze when you pull away. Water was prickling in the corner of your eyes, waiting to be released. “W-What? Y-Your lying. W-Why didn’t he t-tell me?”

Mark tilts his head up, contemplating what to say next when you were readably getting emotional and he didn’t want to wound you further. “I’m not, angel, but I think why he didn’t tell you was because he didn’t want to upset you. You had only gotten close this year and him telling you he was leaving would give you more hurt than he ever would want you to bear, especially considering you both had a tough couple of weeks that placed a stain on your friendship.”

“T-That shouldn’t m-matter b-because doesn’t he know this h-hurts me too? Him leaving w-without saying goodbye?”

You feel the weight of Nicole’s hand on your shoulders once more, rubbing the clothed skin. “You have to know where he’s coming from love. I am sure he has a reason.”

“Yeah, a bullshit one!” you croak out, some tears cascading down your cheeks.

“Hey, angel, hey,” Mark speaks out, resting his hand on your thigh. “Calm down. I can drive you to the airport tomorrow. I know when his flight leaves. How about that? Give him a piece of your mind and a proper goodbye.”

You sniffle, wiping the tears from underneath your eyes. “Y-Yeah…that s-sounds good.”

Mark smiles. “Good. Trust Taeyong to be stupid as fuck sometimes.”

You chuckle at your best friend’s attempt to lighten the mood, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. “You can say that again.”

The next morning you are all jitters, waking up at six in the morning sharp to drive an hour to the airport, in hopes you would arrive before his flight departs at eight.

Mark had served as a wakeup call, being on facetime as you both got ready. Nicole couldn’t join the two of you for some reason, giving the excuse that she needed to sleep in after her emotional and mental exhaustion from finals. You couldn’t complain, you needed sleep too, but catching Taeyong mattered more.

Mark kept calling you out for your nervousness, your leg moving up and down throughout nearly the whole ride and when he put his hand on your thigh to calm you in some way, you switched to messing with your fingers.

There was more traffic than you realized and Mark drove exceptionally slow to where you arrived at the airport twenty minutes to eight. You rushed between the crowds, Mark hot on your trail as you searched for the correct gate that so happened to be at the opposite end of where you parked.

You glanced at the time on your cell phone, it was now five minutes to eight and your eyes peered over the heads of countless people to look for gate C7.

Then you spotted the neon yellow sign of the gate of where Taeyong would hopefully be. You glanced at the waiting area near the gate, searching for a familiar mop of hair and superb fashion sense, though to no avail, he wasn’t there, until a voice spoke up behind you, one light, yet masculine.

“Sweetheart?”

You didn’t think twice, turning on your heels and latching your arms around his neck. He didn’t flinch away this time, wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you closer.

“You’re an idiot, Lee Taeyong. A dumb fucking idiot,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, holding back your tears the second day in a row. “You were really going to leave without saying goodbye? Who the fuck does that?”

He loosens his hold on you and puts you at arm's length to properly take a good look at you, wiping his thumb underneath your eye at the stray tear that falls down.

“I know, trust me, I know and I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that I was leaving…I didn’t want to break your heart a second time.” He gives you a sad and soft smile.

You shake your head, bringing your sleeve up to wipe at your eyes. “That’s a dumb excuse, Yong. I’m only ever yours to break.”

“I wish that wasn’t the case, my love. I don’t think I deserve that right.” 

You interlock your hands together with his, giving him a squeeze with fondness in your gaze. “You deserve everything, Yongie. You deserve the universe.”

He chuckles, letting go. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Your smile widens as you tear up once more from his words. “Guess fate made us both lucky.”

He nods his head. “Indeed it did.”

You converse further, “I’m proud of you, you know, I’m proud that you’re achieving your goals.”

“Now boarding passengers for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts. Proceed to gate C7.”

His eyes widen at the announcement and he latches his hand onto your wrist to pull you into his chest one more time before he leaves, holding more tightly than he ever did, both of you afraid to let go.

Time ran out.

He whispers with his chin resting on your head and swaying your bodies back and forth, “I am proud of you too, my love.”

He doesn’t cry, but you can sense the sadness exuding off of him at the fact that he truly had to leave you behind when he was wishing he didn’t have to.

He steps back, letting go at once, his smile making you all cozy inside even with stained tears on your cheeks. “Goodbye, sweetheart. Take care of yourself for me. Take care of Mark and the rest of those obnoxious boys.”

You laugh at his use of words and nod your head, the smile on your lips wavering.

“But most importantly, don’t be a stranger,” he winks, grabbing the handle of his luggage and duffle bag as he advances forward to the gate. “Don’t forget about me,” he whispers to himself.

He is mere steps away from going through the gate when he turns his head back, giving you a small wave and you wave right back till he turns around again.

Then you realized you couldn’t leave him like that, with a small conversation, without anything to remember you by in that moment, so you run forward without thought, yelling out, “Wait!”

His eyes are wide with curiosity when he sees you run full speed ahead and you catch the front of his unbuttoned black silk shirt with gold patterns etched into the material, to pull him to a kiss.

You mumble against his lips, “Just love me once,” and he does, kissing you back with so much fervor it makes you dizzy, your heart going haywire with its frantic beats.

You don’t know how long you remain locking lips till the intercom announces overhead another time.

“Last call for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts. Last call for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts.  Proceed to gate C7. Proceed to gate C7.”

The announcement serves as your deal breaker for he steps back, his arms leaving your waist bare and cold. His lips are swollen pink and the black sunglasses fixated on the top of his lead is lopsided, his shirt a little wrinkly from where you held on.

You giggle at his appearance and he shakes his head, leaning forward to peck your forehead, not making a direct comment about the kiss.“Tell me baby, would you still love me even if we weren’t together?”

Your smile widens, fixing up his silk shirt, “I’ll always love you.”

You wore your heart on your sleeve for him and even if he couldn’t return the favor you knew he didn’t invalidate your feelings because candidly he returned them. He liked you as much as you liked him, but he couldn’t confess, he couldn’t proclaim the feelings that kept him up at night and made him feel whole. No, he couldn’t because he was slightly afraid of what it meant and because the timing was off when his entire future laid ahead. To him there was no point to have a relationship when he would leave almost a month later so he pushed those emotions connecting the two of you to the back of his mind for the greater good. For you to be happy with just knowing him, getting to befriend rather than longing after him when he would leave.

He would only prevent you from loving and that was something he couldn’t let you do.

Your answer to his question was the one he was looking for, the one he always wanted to hear coming out of your lips one day, for his smile is enough to set the whole world ablaze. He takes your hand to give the skin a kiss, a lingering touch of remembrance. “Perhaps I do too.”

His last words are permanently engraved in your mind for he had admitted his true feelings indirectly and that was enough. That was enough to keep you hoping when he vanished through the airport gate to go to another part of the world, somewhere where he could thrive again and live to his fullest potential. 

After all he was just a flickering flame, there one second then gone the next and not so easy to tame for flames always had the want to be free. 

Though sometimes flames are reborn, with new intentions and motivations. 

You hoped he would be too in some other life, where the two of you could have a happy ending, instead of one where he leaves you behind in the dust at the start of the finish line with a love that he couldn’t hold steady. 

[joheun-saram]

To Make A Power Couple (knj) | 05

Chapter 5: 30 under 30

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Summary- After a bout of long distance our couple reunites for a weekend where they are both invited to the Forbes 30 under 30 celebration.

word count- 13k 😅

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers, angst (😱)

warnings- alcohol consumption, softdom!Joon, oral sex (f. receiving), orgasm denial, explicit sex, hints towards depressive mindset, overworking

a.n- new chapter? NEW CHAPTER! AND THERE’S ANGST?! I would like to point out that the Namjoon’s struggles in this chapter are in no way meant to reflect the real Namjoon’s thoughts. This is a fictional character. I use writing as an outlet to work through my own issues so the only headspace they accurately reflect is my own at times. If you relate, or need someone to talk to you, my messages are open - I’m here for you!

Thank you so much for the love you all have given this series so far! I’m loving writing this! Also, I’m still simping for this couple and writing the last two scenes was heartbreaking.

s/o to @moccahobi​ for beta reading! ily!

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii​, @jinjccns, @joyful-jimin @sideblogger​ @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

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“So how much do I have to bribe Sejin to let us be in the same room for the Forbes thing?” You settled in bed, wearing one of your boyfriend’s t-shirts, as you Facetimed him a few countries away, his scent making you feel closer to him. To say his comeback had him busy was an understatement. Since the night you two had agreed on labeling your relationship, you only had a few weeks together to cuddle, visit your favorite places, and argue philosophies of the books you were reading, before being thrown into a long-distance relationship. First, your investor meetings had you traveling from San Francisco to Seoul every few weeks and then he set out on the Asian leg of his promotions and mini-tour. The days that you were in the same city were spent staying in bed and ordering take-out (mostly jjajangmyeon to satisfy Namjoon’s cravings), alternating between his apartment and yours.

“Literally nothing? Obviously we’re in the same room! He’s not gonna stop me from staying with my girlfriend who I haven’t seen in like two months.” He looked tired, his brows creased as he massaged his shoulder. Your heart panged wishing you could be there to massage it for him.

“Oh. But what if we get caught?” This was not a new concern. Since day one, you had to ensure that all your dates were private, pretending you both were single at events you were obligated to attend. He had an image to portray and although it sometimes weighed on you that you always had a group of friends with you whenever you went out in public and that you couldn’t hold hands during your outings, you respected him too much to tarnish his career.

“By who? The room service guy?” He rolled his eyes as he now started to punch his shoulders.

“Yes, or fans who hack the security system. I remember some One Direction fans doing that.” You pretended as if some of those fans were not your old university friends. You don’t talk to them anymore, but you have to admit it was hilarious seeing a group of coders hunched over their computers to get access to grainy pictures of Harry Styles walking in the hallways.

“You are so paranoid. We’ll be fine, baby. Trust me.” He dismissed you with a huff as he finally let go of his shoulders and moved on to removing his makeup.

“Also, I didn’t know you told your company.” You both had decided to wait to tell BigHit about your relationship until you were done with this long-distance leg, opting to go in together to announce it. Neither of you wanted to go public so you assumed the meeting was going to be quick and painless.

“I told people who needed to know. Hyung included.” He shrugged.

“Aww, I was looking forward to sneaking around some more!” You joked as he carried his phone to the bathroom to wash his face.

“You’re annoying.” He whined as he put on copious amounts of skincare before dropping on his hotel bed like a brick. Looking at his bare face, his dark circles and tired eyes were much more evident. Tonight’s show must have been really hard on him.

“Aw, do you miss me, baby?” You cooed, hoping to make him laugh. You wanted to hug him, cuddle with him as the little spoon as you usually did when he had a hard day, but all you could do at the moment was make jokes and hope that was enough. Shit, you missed him.

“I always miss you. Phone sex sucks.” He sighed, making himself comfortable among the pillows.

“I knew it! You only like me for the sex.” Just give me one laugh Namjoon, come on. A chuckle, anything!

“Yes and your sexy brain, pretty girl.” He laughed lightly as he stared at you through the screen, the longing in his eyes mirroring yours.

“Hey! That’s my line!” You giggled, relieved to see the crease between his brows finally disappear.

“Fuck! Three more days!” He said excitedly, shaking the phone in his hand making him look more like a crazed anime character with his new pink hair and lopsided glasses than your boyfriend.

“Three more days!” you squealed.

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Your body ached from the thirteen-hour flight as you walked through the lobby of the Metropolitan Detroit hotel with Siwon. Grateful for how organized Namjoon’s company was, you seamlessly checked in and made your way to your suite, dropping off your stuff before meeting Siwon at his to go over the weekend itinerary. Even though you knew he was still in the air since the boys and his flight wasn’t due to land for another five hours, you texted him your safe arrival.

Over the past four months since the gala, Jiyoung’s hard work had started to pay off. You were no longer an unknown entity controlling a company; you were now an “influencer entrepreneur”. Your personal social media, now closely tied to the company, showcasing not only usual photos of you at museums and galleries (courtesy of Namjoon’s camera) but photos of you in boardrooms and speaking at events (courtesy of Siwon’s camera). You had significantly surpassed your corporate accounts in followers over a month ago, with a steady stream coming in after your interview in a fashion magazine of all things (apparently your “street style” was deemed a breath of fresh air for businesswomen) and another stream coming in when you were invited to this year’s class of Forbes 30 under 30. 

Although you usually didn’t care for flashy awards such as this, Jiyoung had worked overtime on your nomination and the fact that you were one of the ten people invited from Korea made you pretty happy. The coverage and clout that came with your invite had made you a role model for young female entrepreneurs and that was something you were actually proud of. When you started out there were barely any female mentors and you wanted to change that, give back to other young women running their own ventures. You were excited to meet women around your age who you could relate to this weekend. This was one of the first years that there were this many women invited, making up almost 40%, and your extroverted self was buzzing. Of course, an added bonus was that out of the ten winners from Korea, one was your boyfriend and six were his bandmates, who were slowly but surely becoming your close friends as well. You had been looking forward to this weekend since it was announced a month ago.

Arriving at Siwon’s room you ordered some lunch and planned out the weekend. Tonight was a free night where you could explore the city and the pre-festival activities, although to be honest after almost two months apart, the only thing you’d be exploring tonight was your boyfriend. Tomorrow would be a brunch meet for all the winners followed by a gala in the evening filled with dancing, dinner, and drinks. Then the next day was the festival, which you were still undecided about wanting to attend or not.

“Honestly, it’s up to you. It seems pretty useless to attend if you want to hang out with Namjoon instead.” Siwon offered as you both started on a pro-con list for reasons to attend.

“I don’t know. What if there are some big clients we could get?” Although you missed him dearly, there was no way you could forgive yourself if you let your heart cloud your judgment.

“Yes, we can definitely teach Detroit some English.” Siwon rolled his eyes. “Most of the companies here are tech companies, too small for our caliber. Take a break. This month’s been tough.”

As much as you wanted to disagree with Siwon, he wasn’t wrong. This past month has probably been the toughest month for you in terms of deadlines and stress in the past two years. With the added pressure of maintaining a public persona, your days at the office had stretched from the usual ten hours to sixteen. Most of the time you would be holed up at your desk going through proposals or stuck in meetings with your board as you planned strategies after strategies for expansion into Japan only to get shut down and asked to reassess by one or multiple of them. On top of that, your evenings were booked with conferences where you were invited to speak, given your new spotlight. Most times when you reached home you barely had the energy to change as you fell into bed, falling asleep under ten minutes, usually with Namjoon on the phone as he went through similar motions. You were stressed. Even this short trip was cutting into your time and although you had made good use of the plane’s wifi to work, there was still one proposal that you would have to finish sometime this weekend. Suddenly, the idea of not going to the festival was looking better, so you relent to Siwon as you bid him goodbye and make your way back to your room.

After a quick shower, you decided to work on the proposal before Namjoon arrived but soon as you sat on the desk typing away, the exhaustion of the day caught up with you, and with your head on the table, you drifted to a dreamless sleep.           

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Namjoon hadn’t been this excited in a long while. He could barely focus on the conversation in the car as he followed the little blue dot on his phone that was showing the way to the hotel. He had texted you as soon as he landed but you hadn’t responded and he was getting a bit antsy.

“Namjoon! Are you paying attention? Hey! I’m talking to you!” He begrudgingly looked up from his phone to see Jin pouting at him annoyed that he missed his comment. He rolled his eyes at him as he launched into a rant about him never listening to his stories. How Jin had this much energy after a twelve-hour flight was lost on him.  

“Let him be. He’s just excited to see Y/N.” Yoongi spoke, not even bothering to open his eyes. Although Namjoon was glad that Yoongi had his back, he wished he hadn’t said anything because suddenly everyone forgot about their long flight and started cooing. He felt himself get annoyed as their teasing increased but he couldn’t help the goofy grin that made its way to his face. He couldn’t be mad at them, they all had people at home they were missing, and he was lucky that unlike them he could get a break from missing you and actually hold you in his arms. He wouldn’t tell you but initially, his company had decided to send in their regrets for this event but he may or may not have convinced them to move the shoot for their new music video that was taking place in Los Angeles to next week so they could be here this weekend. If he had to just see you through his screen for another month he was going to go crazy. If it was up to him he would not leave your side at all the next three days.

Namjoon had to restrain himself from sprinting to his room as soon as he was handed the key card. He barely noticed a few of his members following him as he opened the door to spy you hunched over the desk in the corner of the large room, your laptop displaying multiple pictures of your friends and the both of you together. He figured you were asleep but he couldn’t wait to gently wake you up as he usually did, instead opting for screaming a loud “baby” and running to hug your sleeping form.

What he didn’t expect was for you to wake up so startled that you scream and elbow him in the ribs making him stumble backward till his butt met the floor, much to the entertainment of Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook who were cackling in the background.

“Oh my god! Joon?” He could see your face go from confusion to recognition and then into one of the most beautiful smiles he had seen as your puffy eyes go wide. “Joonie!”

You launched yourself from your chair into his arms as you collapsed on top of him in something between a hug and a cuddle as both of you fell to the floor erupting in giggles. Your scent enveloped him and he could feel himself getting delirious. He didn’t know whether it was the long flight or the long-distance but his heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest. He hadn’t been this happy in a long while.

“I missed you!” He exclaimed as he peppered aggressive pecks on top of your head, his arms around your shoulders tightening, making you squirm and laugh. Above you the maknaes squealed a chorus of “cute!”, cooing loudly.

“I missed you more!” You countered, grinning into his chest, before attempting to get up only to be pulled in tighter after Namjoon’s whine. “Babe, we have the whole weekend!”

“Hey! We missed her too! I want a hug!” Jimin mock yelled at Namjoon, who was now sitting up with you on his lap, still not letting you go.

“No. Get your own Y/N.” He pouts, placing a kiss to your shoulder as you giggle. You hadn’t seen this cute clingy side before and you were sure you had heart eyes. Ignoring his whining you managed to wriggle yourself out of his grip and stood up, greeting the boys. You barely talked for five minutes before Namjoon got impatient again and suggested “as their leader” they go rest after the long flight. You all made plans to meet up for dinner and drinks later that night to properly catch up.

You waved bye to the boys as Namjoon pushed them out the door, ignoring their groans. As soon as the door was closed, he grabbed you by the waist, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was hungry, all tongues, teeth, and desperation. Your arms went around his neck, fingers pulling at his hair as his hands moved lower, groping your ass in an attempt to pull you even closer, grinding against you and making you moan into the kiss. Soon Namjoon was pinning you against the wall, his hands roaming all over your body as yours do on his.

“Missed my pretty girl,” Namjoon says after a few minutes, beaming and panting, his forehead against yours, his hand caressing your sides. Hearing your favorite nickname makes you melt. Even though his heart is beating a mile a minute, heat encasing his body, he hasn’t felt this relaxed in months. Just being in your presence puts him at ease.

“I really missed you.” You reach up to kiss him again, slower this time allowing yourself to relish him after being deprived for so long. He returns the kiss just as tenderly, making your heart melt in your chest as he cups your face, thumbs running over your cheeks. Even though things had started heated, this is what you truly missed, just being in each other's presence.

When you break the kiss, he lifts you up bridal style as you squeal, your arms automatically going around his neck. He grins at you, making you feel the same butterflies you had when you first met him as you poke his dimples, and he carries you to the bed, gently placing you among the pillows before kissing you again.

He was on top of you as you kissed, and you had almost forgotten what it felt to have him there with you as your tongues wrestled, his weight cushioning you to the mattress. Your hands reached the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards till he sat on his knees to remove it, looking at you with his signature smirk as you ran your hands up his body, feeling the contours of his muscles, enjoying the way his chest flexed under them. That is until his smirk turned into one of the biggest yawns you had ever witnessed.

“Am I boring you, Joonie?” You saw his face flush as he looked at you sheepishly before leaning back over you and kissing your lips before moving on to your jaw.

“I read somewhere that yawns are just your brain's way of getting more oxygen” He whispered while gently kissing your neck, making you moan, as his hands moved under your shirt, roaming over your chest. “And all my blood’s somewhere else now so it makes sense” He kissed your ear, making you giggle.

“Wow your dirty talk sure has gotten scientific.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter as you processed what he had just said, your moans turning into cackles. He nipped at your ear as he leaned up to look at you, a goofy grin on his face.

“I’m out of practice!” He shrugged and pretended to glare at you but it only lasted a few seconds before he started laughing again because this time it was you who was yawning. Somehow the earlier sexual tension fades into comfort as you both get caught into a yawn loop.

“Maybe we should just nap first” you suggest pulling him back to you as you peck his lips.

“I do feel like I do better when I’m well-rested.” He lays on his side pulling you into him, one arm under your head and one around your waist. You hum in approval as you cozy up into him. You kiss as you slowly doze off, the adrenaline of your reunion wearing off into a soft glow of contentment.

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“Y/N! You have to call me oppa. We’re close enough! Stop calling me Mr. Seokjin!” You rolled your eyes as Jin yelled from the couch across from you. You had hung out with him quite a few times and every time he got drunk he insisted on making you call him by the term of endearment. You didn’t mind the term, in fact you called all your older male friends by it since moving to Korea, but riling up Jin till he started rapping was too funny an opportunity to pass up. 

“I can just call you Jin instead if you hate Mr Seokjin?” you smirked as the room around you burst into giggles. You were sitting on the couch in Hoseok’s room, leaning into Namjoon, his arm around your shoulders as he sipped his beer, shaking his head at your antics. After you and Namjoon had become official, you had made it a goal of yours to get to know most of his friends, as he had with yours. Before being separated, you would go out for dinners with your combined friends, and hearing them say they missed you warmed your heart. 

The first time you had had drinks together you had introduced them to King’s cup, one of your favorite drinking games from university, and their penchant for petty competitiveness and gross punishments made the game and you a regular occurrence whenever a few of you had free time together. In fact, Jungkook was so into it that he brought a deck of cards on tour to carry on the tradition, even though you had shown him multiple apps that could do the same. The same deck of cards was the one sprawled around the cup filled with Taehyung’s strawberry daiquiri, Siwon’s IPA, and Yoongi’s whiskey on the coffee table. No one was looking forward to pulling the next king card. 

The room was a bit crowded, filled with people. Although dinner was just you and the boys catching up, everyone had decided to invite the boys’ stylists and managers, as well as Siwon, for drinks. Hoseok had lost the game of rock, paper, scissors so he was made the begrudging host. 

“I’m older than you. You can’t call me just Jin!” he pouted, red cheeks puffed and arms crossed across his chest.

“Yeah by five months!” This is how this argument always went. It was pretty much scripted at this point, as evident by Taehyung who was gleefully mouthing the words before they even came out of your mouths. He’ll argue that Yoongi still called him hyung, you’d retort that’s because Jin forced him and that he was dumb for following through, Yoongi would then interrupt saying that he was still one month older than you and you’d rile up Jin more by calling Yoongi oppa the rest of the night while he would complain about you disrespecting Korean culture and you’d annoy him by telling him that he was disrespecting Canadian culture by not letting you use just his first name. You’d finally relent after seeing him stew only to pick up the same argument the next time you all drank together.

“Stop arguing and pick a card!” Hoseok whined, his sweet demeanor slowly phasing into his zombie persona with each sip of his drink. You loved hanging out with him but the man could not handle his alcohol. Namjoon kind of felt bad that Hobi was the host. He would normally offer him his bed once he inevitably passed out but Namjoon had other plans for his bed once this party was over.

Jin obliged as he picked up a card, careful not to break the circle lest he was forced to down his concoction of mini bar liquor and fruit punch. He picks up a jack, requiring him to start a game of Never Have I Ever.

“Alright, never have I ever disrespected Kim Seokjin.” He said smugly, looking straight at you egging you on to drink. You oblige by raising your glass to him before sipping your drink. To Jin’s annoyance, almost everyone else did that same thing, causing him to grumble.

“Okay that was a boring waste of a question,” Jimin states, rolling his eyes, already drunk sitting on the couch’s arm next to Namjoon. “Let’s make the couples here uncomfortable. Never have I ever had sex in public.”

Surprisingly, Namjoon, you and a stylist are the only ones that drink, making Jimin scream a loud “Kinky!” and prompting Sejin to start his lecture on being careful in the public eye since you were pretty known now and the press would have a field day. Before he can get into the full swing of his chiding, you decide to save you and Namjoon by protesting that you didn’t even hold his hand in public, let alone do anything else, and suddenly the whole atmosphere in the room changed. All eyes went from Namjoon to the stylist, with him glaring at Jimin and her awkwardly downing her drink before leaving. Confused and drunk, you don’t hesitate to ask what’s wrong in the silence that ensues, till it finally dawns on you. That’s the ex he worked with. Oh.

Namjoon could see the gears turning in your head as you put two and two together. He was going to kill Jimin and then himself. Why didn’t he think before taking a sip? He wanted tonight to end with you in his arms, not with you mad at him over something that happened two years ago. However, before he could think of how to make it up to you - maybe he could get you flowers or that whiskey you really like - you laugh, breaking the tension in the room.

“It’s okay guys, everyone has exes!” Still giggling you sip your drink while Jimin apologizes, waving him off. “Why would I get mad at this?”

That caused the room to return back to normal, people resuming the game and enjoying their drinks, but Namjoon was still confused. He knew you were a pretty rational person, but he had just told the whole room of your friends that he fucked his ex in public when you confirmed that he wouldn’t even hold your hand. Surely, he wasn’t wrong to assume that you would be at least a little peeved, but here you were laughing along at Jungkook’s stupid jokes without batting an eyelid. Before he could dwell too long on it, it was your turn to pull a card - pulling a king and effectively ending the game.

“Ewwww. I hate this. Ugh. Is this punishment for introducing you all to this game?” You scrunch your nose sniffing the liquid in the cup as the whole group chants “chug!”. Before you can put it to your lips, Namjoon grabs the cup from you.

“Allow me.” He says as he chugs the drink, almost in one shot, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and barely concealing the shiver that runs through him at the disgusting taste. Half the crowd boos as the other half coos at the chivalrous gesture. You can’t help smiling sweetly at him as he grimaces, and putting your arms around his waist pulling him in an embrace, exclaiming an overly exaggerated “My hero!”.

“Anything for my girl!” He says as he returns your hug and cups your face. “But you gotta suffer the taste with me!”

You’re not one for public displays of affection but you let him pull you into a sloppy kiss, almost forgetting your surroundings as he deepens it, his hand gripping your waist, his tongue tasting mostly of fake strawberry flavoring. Before you can get too carried away, you are interrupted by Yoongi, poking you both and wedging himself between you when you separate.

“Stop being gross! Some of us are single!” He says, making himself comfortable with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Awww hyung! They are so cute! Let them be gross!” A drunk Taehyung exclaims, clapping gleefully from the floor where he’s laying in Jungkook’s lap.

“Yeah! Rapmon hyung and Y/N noona are OTP!” Jungkook says as he sips his wine, almost dribbling it down his chin.

“Nobody says OTP anymore, kid.” Yoongi drawls but refuses to move from his position. “Plus I’m the one responsible for this okay? Your OTP would be nothing without me.” He looks smug as he finishes his sentence, sipping his drink and shrugging his shoulders. Namjoon and you exchange a smirk at his remark and proceed to hug your grumpy friend tightly from both sides much to his over the top protests. Namjoon was truly grateful Yoongi had given him the courage to speak to you that night. He can’t even begin to explain the impact you have made on his life. As he looked at you tipsy and giggling, now arguing with Yoongi over which Kanye album was the best, he felt his heart blossom. You were beautiful and he was in love with you. He was sure you weren’t there yet but he promised himself that before this trip was over he was going to tell you without chickening out at the last moment like the last four times. 

The party comes to an end soon after. Hoseok almost passes out after his third nursed drink and Sejin has the right mind to kick everyone out while Namjoon and Jimin help Hoseok to his bed, your heart warming as your equally drunk boyfriend forces him to brush his teeth and get into bed. Once Hoseok is firmly tucked in, Namjoon turns to you and squats.

“Get on!” He smiles looking at your direction.

“Joon we’re like two doors down. Get up!” You giggle tipsily at his offer to piggyback you.

“I wanna carry you!” He pouts against your protests, finally giving up on the piggyback after asking three times and instead draping you over his shoulder as you squeal. 

“You’re gonna hurt your shoulder!” You scream but your protests go unheard, even as you take the opportunity to smack his butt from your position, a smack that he returns with a warning to behave, but you’re feeling drunk and cheeky as you continue to smack him, even going so far to rap to the beat that you’re making as he unlocks the door to your room.

He tosses you on the bed, pinning your arms above your head before you can wrap them around him and smirks at you, his eyes full of mischief.

“See, I was going to apologize for my ex but you had to go and be a brat.” He kisses you breathless as he takes both your hands in one of his while the other moves under your shirt, raising goosebumps where it caresses your stomach.

“Apologize for what?” You pant as he breaks the kiss, and he can see the confusion on your face.

“You’re not mad?” Now it’s his turn to be confused. He was sure you were mad. He would’ve been mad. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still thinking about it since the awkward incident.

“That you had sex with your ex-girlfriend while you were dating her?” You do a dramatic gasp as you giggle at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yeah… and told our friends about it.” He looks at you sheepishly, his earlier dominant persona fading into your soft boyfriend. His hand loosens its grip on yours as he searches your eyes for any signs of hurt, his eyebrows scrunched.

“Joon you fuck too good to have been a virgin when we met.” You lift one hand to poke at the crease between his brows as you laugh and he holds your wrist, still gauging your expression.

“You’re not mad? Or… jealous?”

“Pfft. I know I fucking rock your world better than she ever did.” You try your best to do a hair flip from where you lay under him, failing miserably and making him laugh, his head coming to rest on your shoulder.

“That you do, baby. That you do.” He pecks your shoulder as he moves to your neck, kissing up to your jaw before crashing his lips onto yours. As your hands go to his hair, he brings them back over your head, breaking your kiss but not before pulling your lower lip with his teeth, coaxing a moan from you. “But you’re still getting spanked for being a brat.”

You feel his deep voice reverberate through to your core as you look at the lust in his eyes and feel yourself getting wetter. He kisses you again, his arm hooking under your waist as he sits up pulling you with him, making you gasp at the sudden movement, your arms going around his neck. Your heart’s beating a mile a minute as you make out in his lap, grinding slowly. Even after months of being together you still can’t get used to how easily his switch to this persona turns you to putty. You whimper as his hands find your ass, his fingers groping the muscle hard enough to bruise.

“Get naked.” If you were wet before, you’re dripping now as he moves you off his lap, sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs spread and leaning on his elbows. You decide to make a show of it, jumping off the bed and slowly peeling off the layers. You smile over your shoulder as you rid yourself of your bra, watching him smile, eyes hooded, from where he watches relaxed. Your hands find the waistband of your jeans, slowly unbuttoning them and shimmying out of them, swaying your hips as you do. You’re sure you would find this strip tease embarrassing if it weren’t for how his hungry eyes drink in every expanse of new skin exposed. You bend down to give him a view of your ass as you pull your panties off, a thread of your slick following them as they reach the floor, making him groan loudly. “Fuck. I love your ass.”

You drape yourself on his lap, the material of his jeans on your bare skin making you shiver in excitement as he gently caresses your behind. “Since you love rapping so much, how about you rap that song from earlier, hmm?” he says as he lands a loud smack without warning making you jump at the contact. The sharp pain quickly ebbs into pleasure as he soothes the heated skin under his big palm. “What’s your safeword?”

“Rap monster.” That is not your safeword, but your drunk self thinks it’s the funniest joke as you giggle looking up at him to see his face crack into the smallest of smiles before reverting back to a stern look as he glares at you.

“Seems like someone doesn’t want to cum tonight.” He smacks you again, harder this time making you gasp before you’re apologizing at his threat. Namjoon watches your skin bloom red as he tries to maintain his composure. Trust you to make jokes even when he’s spanking you, and trust him for finding it funny.

“Sunflower! It’s sunflower!” you yell as his hand lands yet again on your ass.

“Good girl. Let’s hear that rap then.” You’re not even sure what song you’re mumbling as his hand rains on your behind, each spank making you wetter till you’re dripping down your thighs and whimpering in his hold.

“Fuck so wet for me.” He hisses as his fingers trace your swollen folds making you jump and mewl as he lightly caresses your throbbing clit. He leans down to kiss your red cheeks as he guides you off his lap and on to the bed and lies on top of you, smiling brightly as he cups your face to kiss you, slow and deep. “You did so well, baby. You’re really into ASAP nowadays aren’t you?”

“You really need some variation in the playlists you send me.” You quip, chuckling as you gently guide his face back to yours, kissing him again, his tongue intertwining with yours. As he leans on one elbow, his other hand makes its way down your body, stopping briefly to tweak each nipple and making you moan before he reaches the apex of your thighs. His fingers dip in you slightly gathering your arousal before starting to circle your clit as he starts kissing your neck, suckling the spot he knows makes you go crazy. It’s like your whole body’s on fire as he finds a rhythm, driving you quickly towards the edge, your mind turning blank as eyes squeeze shut and your lips moan his name. You’re so close and he can feel it by how your nails dig into his shoulders, making him hiss, but before you can cum he moves his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to clean them as he watches you glare at him with a whine.

“You really think I’ll forget your little joke earlier?” He whispers in your ear, his voice deeper than usual, as he nips on it before sitting up between your legs and unceremoniously stripping himself of his shirt and jeans. The sight of the bulge in his boxers makes your walls clench around nothing as you stare at him open-mouthed. Enjoying your reaction, he places one of your legs on his shoulders, the back of your knee fitting perfectly next to his neck as he moves back towards you, his clothed length pressing against your core as he kisses you again roughly, making you whimper as his hands dig into your sides. Your leg burns as he licks and kisses down your jaw towards your chest, his lips taking a nipple and rolling it around with his tongue. You’re sure he can feel your wetness seep through his boxers as he grinds into you agonizingly slow. He nips at your chest and you moan as your back arches off the bed into him.

He continues his slow kisses down your body turning you into a writhing mess under him. You think you’re going to lose your mind by the time he gets past your hip bone and places a chaste kiss on the top of your mound before moving on to your thigh, nibbling at the sensitive skin and paying no attention to your dripping core making a mess of the sheets.

“Joon please…” you beg, rolling your hips to entice him as he pays you no mind, placing an arm over your hips to halt your motion and continues to mark your other thigh. When he’s fully satisfied by his work, he places his forearms under your thighs and pulls to close to his face, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted; your earlier orgasm picking back up as your back arches off the bed, the moan emitting from you barely sounding like yourself. You clasp a hand over your mouth in shock as he continues licking you, his tongue expertly flicking at your clit before he adds two fingers inside you, the digits slipping in easily, making your walls clench around them. He hooks his fingers and you try to grind against him to no success as his arm pushes your hips into the bed. He relishes your moans as your hand moves from your mouth to grasp at the sheets, the sensation too overwhelming as your eyes close shut. 

“Are you close baby? You’re not allowed to cum till I tell you.” He feels your walls tighten around his fingers as he thrusts faster and a chant of please rolls off your tongue, your hand twisting in your hair. It’s like every cell in your body is alight from your toes to your scalp, tingling as you get closer, your eyes welling up with pleasure. But once again before you can come undone, his fingers slow down to a snail’s pace, his mouth moving away. The frustration builds in you as a few tears escape and your fists punch the mattress.

He chuckles lightly as he sees you pout under him as, your hair a mess, your lips swollen and red from where you’ve bitten them. God, even glaring at him like you’re gonna kill him, you look adorable. Deciding he’s taught you a lesson, he pulls his dick out of his boxers, his tip swollen and weeping with precum, and lines it towards your entrance, teasing you further and gathering your juices.

Your eyes roll back with pleasure as he replaces his fingers with his cock, filling you to the hilt in one swift motion. The stretch combined with his teasing makes your head hazy and you can hear him groan above you as he puts both your legs in the air together, holding them against his chest with one arm as he thrusts into you slow and hard. You feel so much tighter in this position and he has to bite his lip to ensure he doesn’t cum immediately. You can feel every vein and ridge as he moves slowly and deliberately and even at this pace you are getting close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Joonie… please can I cum? Please I’m so close!” You don’t care that you’re yelling, you’re desperate for release, the earlier tension returning tenfold. You vow to break up with him if he denies you one more time. Fortunately for your relationship, he increases his pace, making you see stars.

“Hold it just a little bit longer baby.” His pace doesn’t falter and you’re writhing against him, a babble of incoherent pleas escaping your lips as your hands try to grab on to his forearm. Your legs are shaking and he can feel your walls tighten harder around him. He increases his speed as your pleas get louder.

“Okay baby. Cum for me.” At his command, your vision goes black and it’s like your body is one big nerve ending, pleasure zipping through you making you cry out his name as you spasm in his hold. He fucks you through your orgasm, pace not faltering, till you go limp, your breath coming out in loud pants as he praises you. “That’s my girl. Good job, baby.”

Without changing his speed, he releases your legs, pushing them to your chest as he leans down and kisses you. The new angle hitting your g-spot as you whine in his mouth at the oversensitivity, but instead of slowing down, he picks up his pace yet again, his fingers coming to trace your sensitive clit, making your head buzz with the overwhelming sensation.

“I can’t… Joon,” you whine as he fucks you hard, panting above you and you can tell he’s close.

“Do you want to use your safeword?” He looks at you with concern, slowing down and closely reading your expression. As you tell him no his hips snap into you again, his fingers working faster on your clit as the pain morphs to pleasure. He’s chasing his release, his movements becoming sloppy.

“Cum again baby. I know you can do it. Come on, that’s it” And soon you’re cumming again, screaming as tears fall down your face and your walls clench around him coaxing him to orgasm. He grunts loudly, moaning your name multiple times, as he cums, painting your walls with his seed. His breath is heavy as he pulls out and watches his cum dribble out of you, using two fingers to push it back in before he collapses on the bed next to you.

He brings his fingers up to your lips and you happily suck on them before he pulls them out and kisses you gently, his hand smoothing your hair. He then puts his arm under your head as he cuddles you into his chest, his other arm pulling your waist into him and his legs over yours. You’ve never felt safer or more comfortable than you do tangled up in him.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he gently caresses your cheek, wiping your runny mascara with his thumb, kissing you once again.

“Holy fuck. That was-” Your voice is hoarse from your screaming and you have to clear your throat a couple of times before you can speak clearly. “That was amazing.”

“Phew! The suspense was killing me!” He laughs as you playfully swat at his chest before pulling his lips on yours again. “Shower?”

“Yes. But this time you really have to carry me.” You raise your hands grabbing at the air as he stands up.

“I got you, pretty girl.” He grins widely, his eyes scrunched together, as he kisses your forehead, picking you off the bed and carrying you to the bathroom. 

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

Namjoon looked at you from across the room as you chatted with a group of women with a cup of coffee, your breakfast untouched, totally distracted from the guy who was telling him about some app he had made for producers to make it easier to find samples. He rarely got to see you in your professional element. In fact, the only time he had seen you was during the gala and he felt an unparalleled surge of pride. The way you carried yourself was so different than when you were with him. It wasn’t that you weren’t relaxed, it was just effortless - the way you seemed to answer each question with confident authority, the way you gave advice to people who were probably much older than you, and especially the way you tried to engage the quieter people of the group in conversations. It reminded him of why you had caught his eye the first time he met you, and why he was so unbelievably whipped for you. Your duality of being goofy and sexy when you were alone to being this serious vat of knowledge and experience when networking made him weak in the knees.

“So do you think you would use it?” The founder of the sampling app, Lee Seungmin, asked Namjoon. Seungmin was one of the other people invited from Korea, and seemed pretty adamant on selling his product to Namjoon. It took all of his energy to rip his gaze away from you.

“I’m sorry I missed that. What did you ask?” Namjoon asked politely, looking at the shorter, much chubbier man dressed in slacks and a shirt with his company logo on it.

“Wouldn’t blame you. She’s really hot, eh?” Seungmin jokes, making Namjoon choke on his coffee. Although he knows that this guy isn’t privy to your relationship, it makes him a little annoyed at his comment. Who was he to dare objectify you?

“Yes, but I don’t think they invite people here for their looks.” He couldn’t help how curt his tone was effectively shutting him up and making him move away to talk to someone else at the table. Namjoon would feel bad if he didn’t overhear him start the conversation about you with the next guy. Rolling his eyes, he went back to his lunch, talking to Hoseok and Yoongi instead, wishing this brunch went by faster than it did. He was getting sick of people trying to suck up to him or sell him something. Someone even had the audacity to ask him to pose with their product so they could put it on their website. He politely declined, but the thinly veiled attempts at using him and his members for clout were starting to get on his nerves. He could feel himself getting stressed, much like he did when he had to pretend to be perfect for the media, and falling back into the headspace of last month - cloudy, annoyed, and frustrated.

He was relieved when you both arrived back at the room. You held his arm for support as you leaned down to take off your heels, sighing in relief as your feet met the flat ground.

“God, I hate heels!” You exclaimed as you walked over, dropping your blazer on the ground and plopped on the couch, stretching your feet. Namjoon picked your jacket off the floor, draping it on one of the chairs as he situated himself on the other end of the sofa, putting your legs on his lap.

“Since when do you wear heels?” He asks, as he gently runs his hands over your legs, covered with a pair of navy pants.

“Too often nowadays.” You sigh with your eyes closed, and he can’t help frowning at how tired you looked, even though it’s barely past 2 pm.

“You okay, babe? Want a foot massage?” He doesn’t wait for your answer as he starts massaging your feet, smiling as you relax further into the couch.

“Shit. That feels good!” You moan as you relax. “You know they don’t give Grammys for best boyfriends, right?”

“I’m offended you think I’m doing this for something as dumb as a Grammy.” He chuckles, but he knows you well enough to know that you’re avoiding the topic. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just stressed about work. Don’t worry about it.” At that you pull your legs from under his hands, walking over to grab your laptop before sitting on the couch again to start working, eyebrows furrowed as soon as you open the your laptop. Namjoon knows he shouldn’t take your dismissal to heart, but he can’t help be taken aback by your lack of openness. You always told him what was on your mind and he felt his heart ache that you didn’t want to share what was wrong. He couldn’t fully blame you. He hadn’t told you about his stresses this past month either, but unlike him, you hadn’t even noticed he was stressed. It made him a little wary, bringing his thoughts back to last night and your reaction, or lack thereof, to meeting his ex. As much as it hurt him, maybe he was right after all. You didn’t love him yet. He sighed as he got up to grab his book, hoping that he could change that before leaving you tomorrow night.

After a few hours of work, you started to feel bad for ignoring Namjoon. He had been nothing but doting this whole trip and you hated yourself for having to finish this proposal this weekend. Feeling your brain turn to mush anyways, you stretched as you walked over to your suitcase, watching your boyfriend who seemed to be engrossed in his book. You felt guilty for avoiding his questions earlier but you could see how stressed he had been from work - in fact, Jungkook had told you as much over text last week when he shared that Namjoon had collapsed during rehearsals. You knew how empathetic he was, he would do everything in his power to make sure you were feeling good, so how could you burden him with your stresses when he had so many of his own. Sure this last month had been hell and you were barely functioning but if you told him that, you know he would worry about you, and you would rather bottle everything up than have him worry.

Reaching into your suitcase, you took out his favorite packet of ramen, hiding it behind your back as you moved over to stand in front of him.

“I got you a present.” You bent down till you were face to face as he looked up at you with a smile and kissed him gently.

“I think you’ve already given me this present.” He said as he cupped your face and kissed you again, lingering longer.

You laugh as you straighten up and pull the ramen from behind your back, watching his eyes go wide in excitement as he grabs it, his dimples poking his cheeks as he hugs you. You knew he always missed home when on tour even if it was just an Asian tour, and his ramen cravings were the top priority when he arrived back to Korea. You hoped this would cheer him up as you grabbed the packet and walked over to the kettle, starting the water.

“Speaking of presents, I was saving this for tomorrow, but now I’m excited.” He says before grabbing the slim velvet box from his bag and walking over to you, wrapping you in a back hug as you pour the seasoning from the packet into the cup of dry ramen. He puts the box in front you and opens it, making it now your turn to go wide-eyed.

Inside the box is a necklace with the most delicate gold chain holding a pendant shaped like a gold slice of pizza with pepperoni made of small rubies. It would seem tacky if it didn’t look so intricate. No one had given you a gift that was so you, and it made you speechless.

“I know it’s cheesy but I saw it in Tokyo and it reminded me of our first date, but if you don’t like it I can take it back and I’m sure I can return it, I mean they gave me a gift receipt and everything.” Namjoon knew he was rambling but you were eerily quiet and the fact that he couldn’t see your face made him uneasy. 

“It’s perfect,” you whisper as you turn around, your eyes glistening as you wrap your arms around his neck. He was alarmed. You never got emotional, even when you both watched Up together you barely showed any signs of being moved while he was sobbing. 

“It was meant to be for our 100 day anniversary next week but I thought I’d give it early.” He pressed his forehead to yours, drinking in your smile as he held you tighter.

“I’m literally the worst girlfriend. I forgot about that.” You frowned as you looked away before you looked back at him, your eyes wide. “Oh my god! I only got you ramen! What the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“Y/N… Relax. I didn’t get you a present for you to get me one. Plus I know you’re nothing without your calendar app. I swear you’d forget to eat without it.” He laughed trying to reassure you as he kissed your frown away. “If anything it’s Siwon’s fault for not programming it in there.”

“I don’t deserve you.” You sigh as you hug him tightly, making Namjoon’s heart swoon as you ask him to put the necklace on you. He does so, kissing the nape of your neck where he clasps it and telling you that you deserve the world. You wanted to tell him you loved him before you chickened out again but before the words could make it out of your lips his were against them.

Later that night, he feels even happier as he sees you wear it to the gala. Even though he knows he can’t hold your hand, the fact that you have a symbol of his love for you around your neck makes him giddy.

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

“Joon, seriously. I have to get this done.” You giggle as he kisses your neck, moving the strap of your tank to the side as he continues lavishing you in kisses. Namjoon was impatient. He had spent the whole night watching you from afar. He’d be damned if he had to wait any longer to have you in his arms. Work can go to hell.

To say that Namjoon hated the gala would be an understatement. First, you and Yoongi ended up unintentionally matching, and he found himself irrationally jealous at the fact that his stylist didn’t choose the Louis Vitton outfit for him so he could match with you. Second, even though all the attendees were placed on tables according to country, you had decided to sit next to none other than Lee Seungmin, the creep checking you out at brunch, who wasted no opportunity to shamelessly flirt with you, even going so far as to put his hand on your thigh a couple of times. The number of times you politely rejected him for him not to get the hint made Namjoon’s blood boil, so much so that Jin had to poke him to relax his face lest the photographers captured his reaction. And lastly, when he had to watch you dance with some old men as you were too polite to refuse, while they leered at you. Through it all, Namjoon could just watch helplessly as you seemed more uncomfortable. Now that you were both back to your room and in your pajamas, he just wanted to hold you before all the jealousy and insecurity of the night caught up with him. He knew if he kissed your neck enough, you’d soon comply.

���Do it later. We only have till tomorrow. Let’s watch a movie together?” He gives you another kiss that makes your breath hitch, a soft moan escaping your lips. Before you can get too carried away, you move his head away from you, sighing and gathering all your self-control. If you didn’t finish this proposal today you’d be in big trouble - like losing a multimillion-dollar contract big trouble. As much as you wanted to just forget work existed, you had to take a two-hour reality check on this trip.

“I can’t do that. Please understand.” You looked at him softly, but Namjoon couldn’t help getting annoyed. Didn’t you yearn for him like he did at that gala? Were you happy to be hit on by those creeps?

“Are you seriously being like this right now?” He scoffed, pulling away from you, eyebrows knitted together. Namjoon couldn’t understand why you had to work right now. You had been apart for so long, didn’t you want to spend as much time with him as he wanted to with you?

“Like what? I told you I need to have this done by tomorrow.” He could hear the familiar edge in your voice. You were starting to get annoyed.

“Do you know how much groveling I had to do to get this weekend together and you’re going to waste it on stupid work?” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. You didn’t know he “groveled”, as far as you were aware this was part of his schedule. Why was he being so difficult all of a sudden? It’s not like you had a choice. Does he think you would seriously spend time away from him if you didn’t have to?

“Are you seriously mad at me for taking two hours, two hours, out of three days to finish some work?”

“Yes because these three days are all we get together for the next month.” Namjoon knew he was being stupid, two hours were not a big deal, but at the moment he couldn’t help but feel abandoned like somehow the scales in the relationship had tipped where the balance of affection was off. He cared so much for you, why couldn’t you feel the same?

“Oh don’t be dramatic. I will be done soon.” You snapped, your attention turning back to the screen. If Namjoon was going to throw a tantrum there was no reason for you to indulge him.

“Don’t dismiss me like that. You’re the boss, just tell the people to wait. Or delay it.” He walked closer to you, shutting your laptop, standing with his arms crossed. He wanted your full attention, and he was going to demand it. He hated how condescending you were being.

“Are you kidding me? I can’t do that. This is for a client.” You stand up facing him, anger flowing through you, indignation plastered on your features. Even though he was significantly taller than you, your glare could have made anyone feel small.

“Just do it later and apologize.” Namjoon knew he was being stubborn, but the reason for the fight was forgotten, he just wanted you to admit that you were wrong. As childish as it seemed, he wanted to win. 

“What the fuck? I have a whole company that I need to pay, I can’t just skip shit.”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit. Missing one deadline won’t make you miss payroll - you’re not a struggling small company anymore.” That hit a nerve, he could see it in your eyes as they flared with anger. He would feel bad for making you angry if he weren’t so happy to get a reaction.

“The fucking hypocrisy. Sure Namjoon, have RM miss a concert. It’s okay you’re not a struggling small band anymore!” You poked him in the chest as you moved closer. He hadn’t seen this side of you before. You had never been angry with him before. You had never fought like this before. Your anger only seemed to fuel his. He had no control over his schedule, you did. Why couldn’t you understand that fundamental difference?

“That is not the same thing. You are overworking yourself for no reason.” He was talking with his hands, you knew he only acted like that when he was pissed, but you were not going to have any of this petty behavior. For all his bull and bluster about being a feminist, he’s going to pull this shit on you? His job is great and not stressful or busy but when it comes to you he’s going to pull the overworking card? When he literally collapsed during rehearsal last week and hid it from you? You were livid.

“You’re going to talk to me about overworking?” You laughed sarcastically, your eyes burning. “Oh is it not the same thing because it's my job and not yours?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant. Whatever. Fuck this. Enjoy writing your proposal!” Namjoon couldn’t argue anymore. He felt his anger rising to a point where he knew he was going to say something he regretted if he hadn’t already. Using his one remaining rational brain cell, he walked out of the room, not before maliciously slamming the door behind him.

“I will!” you screamed into the empty room, panting with anger as you picked up the water bottle on your desk and threw it across the room, tears in your eyes.

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

Y/N: Have you seen Namjoon? He’s not responding.

Yoongi: Isn’t he with you?

Y/N: No.

Yoongi: What happened?

Y/N: Nothing, we just had an argument and I haven’t seen him. It’s been two hours.

Yoongi: Okay don’t worry. We’ll find him.

Y/N: Thanks Yoongs

Yoongi: Where are you?

Yoongi: Hello?

Yoongi: Namjoon. Answer your phone.

Yoongi: Y/N is really worried about you

Yoongi: Listen Namjoon if you don’t answer in the next five minutes, I’m reporting you missing

Yoongi: Enjoy that press 

Namjoon: Stop calling me. I’m fine.

Yoongi: No. Where the fuck are you?

Namjoon: I’m just on the roof.

Namjoon: Please don’t come here. I just want to be alone.

Yoongi: Are you okay? Y/N told me you guys had a fight

Namjoon: I’ll be fine. Don’t tell her where I am.

Yoongi: Okay. Text me if you need a friend.

Namjoon: Thanks hyung.

Yoongi: He’s on the roof. He said he’s fine, but not to tell you.

Y/N: Thanks friend

Yoongi: You should go find him

Y/N: He doesn’t want me, there he made that clear

Yoongi: I’ve known him and lived with him for a decade, trust me. He needs you.

Y/N: Okay, but if we break up it’s on you.

Yoongi: Just go find him Y/N.

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

Namjoon rubbed his face as he sat on the rooftop of the hotel, his back against the railing. Replying to Yoongi he tossed his phone aside. He’d been sitting here for the past couple of hours his anger dissipating into guilt far too quick. Dried tears streaked his face as he tried to gather the courage to go back to the room. 

He was scared. The image of your angry face as he dismissed your work popping in his head. He didn’t know why he did that. He respected what you did, but he felt like a hypocrite. All his exes he dismissed when they asked him to take care of himself and not overwork. All the times they came to his studio to force him to leave, only to have the same look of anger that you gave him. He laughed bitterly as he pulled his legs to his chest.

At the edge of the guilt, he could feel it again, the same feeling he’d had since the comeback started, a sort of brain slush. Like a haze shackling him in place. He had felt it many times before but it was never this strong, this force of unproductivity, making him want to forget everything and hide. The stress of this comeback wasn’t any different than other ones. He always made it a priority to write new music in between promotions and shows but his creative block from four months ago was back and nastier. He could feel it gnaw at his neurons, forcing him to stay awake for hours after he should be in bed staring at a blank Ableton file. Usually, he could trick his mind out of this fog by working harder, but lately, it was like it was getting thicker seeping into every aspect of his life, painting his vision sepia, making every movement robotic. 

He remembers when encouraging messages from ARMY would make him happy, excited to make more music for them but nowadays it just made him feel guilty. He wasn’t doing enough for them, he couldn’t even string together a series of 808s without it sounding like a gimmick or worse like plagiarism. Last week he had fucked up so bad that his body shook from the memory. He had stayed up all night in some sick form of self-harm, scrolling through hate comments on Twitter then Reddit. He was never sadder to know multiple languages because even if the characters were different the messages were the same. He was a shitty musician, too overhyped by fans, his awards were bought by his company, his dances sucked, he tried too hard, and of course that he was too ugly to be an idol. His rational side would argue that these messages were meant to hurt him, his friends and you would comfort him by telling him they were lies, but he never told anyone about this habit, and his rational side often lost out. If anyone asked why he did this he would say to fuel another song, but he knew the real reason - he just couldn’t stop. So he stayed up all night till his eyes were dry and scratchy from staring at the screen, and had three espresso shots before the show even though he hated espresso, his body eventually giving out during rehearsals. He got quite a few lectures about that. A leader’s job is to set a good example. You have been doing this for so long, be a professional play in your limits. But there were no limits, not when it literally took a mantra of just “power through it” to get out of bed and shower.

He had been hoping this weekend would solve everything - that seeing you would solve everything. As he sat on the roof, the first few drops of rain falling on him, he curled in further into himself. It wasn’t your responsibility to make him happy, clear the fog, but you had done it the first day. His mind felt clear but it was gone too soon. He didn’t know when it happened but he could see it after a while that you didn’t feel the same way he did. You didn’t crave to be next to him like he did, speaking affirmations in his ear as he did in yours. Hell, even when you saw his ex for the first time, you barely reacted. Maybe it was the way you were so adamant that he not leave any marks because you might not be able to cover them this weekend, or the way you made sure to not sit next to him at the gala even when you were seated on the same table by some stroke of luck. You didn’t love him like he did, and he would be happy with scraps, but he couldn’t afford to miss you more than he did. He laughed again, cackling maniacally, as he realized where he was: a rooftop in the middle of a downpour, just because you once said rooftops had magical healing powers. There was nothing healing about being alone looking at lights shining in offices no one was in - it was lonely.

He was so desperate to feel anything other than this fog that even anger was a better option. Maybe he wanted you to put him out of his misery, leave him as he was sure you would eventually before he burdened you with more of his fucked up life before he relied on you further just to have his legs cut out from under him. He sighed, shivering even though the rain was warm, resting his head on his knees. Could he survive if you left him tonight, justly so?

“Joon…?” You call out as you reach the rooftop, searching for him through the rain.

“I told hyung not to tell you. I wanna be alone” You barely hear him mumble from the corner and you make your way over to the dark figure. He’s hunched in on himself, his arms around his knees, his face in his hands and it breaks your heart. Your boyfriend is a tall, broad man who can easily throw you across the room if he wants to, but at this moment, he looks small, almost tiny. It takes everything in you to not just go and wrap him in your arms. 

“Namjoon, what are you doing?” You squat in front of him, resting your hands on his arms. You wouldn’t usually push him like this when he seems distraught, you knew he didn’t respond too well to direct conflict but you needed him to let you in, your inherent need to fix going into hyperdrive. When he refuses to look at you, you cup his face and pull it up firmly to look into his eyes. He looks like he’s been crying and it makes your eyes well up. “Look at me. Why are you driving me away?”

With nowhere to run, all he can see is your face, your eyes puffy, red-rimmed and glassy, your nose a dusty pink. He made you cry. He made the person he was supposed to take care of cry because he got pissy over something she couldn’t control, something he was guilty of as well. All his guilt bit at his chest again and he hated himself. You didn’t deserve this. You should leave him. Why were you here in the rain trying to comfort him when he was such a useless asshole?

“Fuck... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice sounded hoarse and broken, and he knew all the apologies in the world wouldn’t make him worthy of forgiveness. He wished you’d just leave and let him wallow in the rain by himself - he deserved that. Tears filled his eyes and he hoped the rain would ensure they were invisible.

“Hey, hey. Baby, it’s okay.” You kissed him on the forehead, settling on your knees in front of him. His eyes were wide as he looked at you, his hands on top of yours, gripping your hands a little too tight.

“I… don’t know why I picked a fight.” He averted his gaze, not having the courage to look at you.

“It’s okay.” You move your hands to the back of his neck as he places his on your shoulders, opening his legs wide enough for you to move closer, your forehead against his as you caress the hair on his nape. 

“No, it’s not. Fuck! It’s like when I saw you yesterday I could finally breathe! I’ve felt so numb these few months but when I saw you, it’s like I could finally be happy.” He cups your face. He knows he needs to be honest but he doesn't know where to start.

“Joonie…”

“And then I could feel it escape again. I felt it. My head getting cloudy like I was slowly going underwater, and I don’t know… I just… I can’t ask you to be responsible for my happiness. It’s not fair to you. I can’t. I can’t.” He knows he’s not making any sense but his chest feels tight and he can’t fight his tears anymore as they mix with the raindrops on his cheeks. He can feel himself hyperventilating. He doesn’t know why he can’t tell you this without breaking down. What was wrong with him? Maybe that’s why you didn’t love him. Maybe that’s why you never got jealous because you knew he wasn’t worth it. How could he support you when he could barely stand by himself. He was so fucked up. 

“Joonie. It’s okay. Just breathe, okay? You’re okay.” You cradle his head against your chest, kissing the top of his head.

“I can’t lose you Y/N. I can’t be the jealous idiot that I always am and lose you.” He’s clawing at your sweater, pulling you closer than you are, making your eyes well up at his desperation. Why does he think he’s going to lose you? As far as you knew you had never given him any indication of that. You loved him and you couldn’t imagine a future without him.

“Namjoon. Look at me. It’s going to take more than a stupid fight to drive me away.” You pull his face away from your sweater and hold his gaze, his eyes red and still full of tears. The image breaks your heart but you hope you can convey your honesty to him.

“No, but you shouldn’t be with me. I’m fucked up, you know. You deserve better.” His actions speak otherwise as he holds your upper arms in both his hands tight enough to bruise as if you would disappear if he let go.

“Where is this coming from? Namjoon you’re not fucked up, you’re human. I don’t care how fucked up you think you are. I love you.” You look deep into his eyes, urging him to believe you. You had been trying to tell him you loved him all day but you always chickened out, but not now. You needed him to know that you were here for him. You were dying to know what started this, why he felt this way, but you needed him to realize that you had no plans of leaving.

“You… love me?” His voice was almost inaudible as his bottom lip quivered.

“Of course I love you. I love you - good parts and bad parts. I love 100% of you.” You kissed him gently, wiping at his face with your thumbs.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re you. You make me happy, even when you make me mad you make me happy.” You put your forehead against his again as the rain picked up, pelting the both of you. “Just don’t run away from me, please?”

“I don't deserve you. Fuck. I love you so much it scares me.” He kisses you at that, rough and full of yearning. It’s like the first kiss you shared this weekend and it makes your heart ache. Did he feel this way when he saw you again yesterday? Like he didn’t deserve you? You wished you could go into his head and learn all his worries - this did not seem like only work stress to you.

“Hey. I’m scared too okay? It just means it’s real.”

“How do you do that? How do you sound so sure all the time?” His head is on your shoulder as you caress his hair. It seems as if all the energy has been drained from his body as his grip on you loosens and you feel his weight lean on you.

“Because I believe in us. We’re Rapmon hyung and Y/N noona. We’re OTP, remember?” You lift his face and smile at him as he musters a small one of his own, as you kiss him again. “Let’s get out of the rain, okay baby?”

You both are drenched from the rain when you get back to your room, and you lead Namjoon to the bathroom. He just stands there, eyes glassy as you start a bath and grab a towel, drying the rain on his body. Once the bath is full and bubbly, you undress him and guide him in, discarding your own own clothes before climbing in behind him.

“I always sit behind you when we bathe.” He says, voice barely audible.

“Let me wash your hair, is that okay?” you say tentatively, kissing the back of his neck as he nods.

Suddenly, his head snaps up as he speaks loudly, a slight panic in his voice. “I have to use the special shampoo so the colour doesn’t fade.”

“Yeah. I have it right here.” You smile as he relaxes and you foam the shampoo on his pink hair, massaging his scalp gently. You take your time, washing it out before moving onto the conditioner, letting it sit as you massage his shoulders. You hear him sniff as you work at the knots. As you’re washing the conditioner off his hair, he turns at the waist, bringing one hand to your cheek as he looks at you. You realize he was still crying as your own eyes threaten to fill with tears.

“Thank you, Y/N. I… I know I don’t deserve this. Thank you.”

“Shh… I love you Joonie. You deserve this and more.” You kiss him gently on each cheek and then on the lips. You are not sure how to make him believe this but you hope he can see how much you love him as you wipe his tears. Namjoon’s never been this vulnerable with you, never given up this much control, and if you’re being honest it scares you seeing him this way. In a way, you feel helpless. You’re a fixer and there’s just no immediate way to make him feel better, you just have to make sure he knows you’re here for him. 

After you get dressed, he lays in bed as you do his skincare routine for him, running your fingers over his face gently. Namjoon hasn’t felt this way with someone before, so raw but soothed at the same time. He never shows his negative emotions to anyone. Right now it feels like his emotions are a livewire, but the way you gently tap the serums on to his skin, making sure not to miss a spot, he realizes how wrong he was. All the ways he convinced himself you didn’t love him were wrong. You don’t show love through jealousy or possession or even words. This is how you show love - in the quiet of your room making sure that he doesn’t go to sleep drenched from the rain, or skip his eye cream so his eyes aren't too puffy in the morning or at breakfast when you always cut the crust off his bread because he once mentioned he doesn’t like it. He opens his eyes as you say all done and sees you smiling softly at him, some of his confidence coming back. He smiles at you even though it’s difficult, and pulls you to his chest. As you lay on his bare chest for a while, feeling how tightly his arms wrap around you, an idea pops into your head.

“I want to come with you to LA.” You usually don’t make such impulsive decisions, but you could feel that he was not ready to be separated and you were definitely not ready to leave him, but you didn’t want to make him feel like he didn't have a choice so you add, “Is that okay?”

“What about your work?” He asks softly and you can hear his heart beat faster as he awaits an answer.

“I work from home all the time. It’ll be fine.” You rise up slightly to look at him, your chin resting on his chest, making sure to look him in the eyes. “I want to be with you.”

For the first time that night, you see him smile wide enough that his dimples poke through his cheeks and you’re sure you’ve made the right decision.

“I love you, Y/N. Thank you.” He pulls you further so you are fully lying on top of him and as you tell him you love him again, you feel his breath even out, both of you falling into a much need sleep.

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

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[happyandticklish]

Clumsy Giggles

Notes: This is something I’ve been working on ever since I first watched Weird Science. I finally went through and finished it, because I wanted to have it out before the buttload of requests I now have (which btw, thank you so much for all the requests, I love you guys???)

Summary: Gary comes home drunk one day and Wyatt attempts to help him while nursing a burgeoning crush on his best friend.

Gary was drunk.

The second he stumbled through the oak doorways and into Wyatt’s startled arms, he knew. He circled his arms around him, pressing his face into his neck and mumbling something that Wyatt couldn’t hear.

“Woah, hey,” Wyatt said, squirming as Gary nuzzled into his neck. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I got—I got…” Gary tried for a moment to form words, breaking off into a silly grin. “I’m drunk, Wy.”

“I know,” Wyatt agreed, trying to hold up Gary’s slumping form. “Where on earth did you get alcohol from?”

“I got it from Deb. She said it would… she said it would be fun. And I!” Gary exclaimed suddenly, whirling around before falling back into Wyatt’s arms. “Am very fun! Woo!”

Deb. His girlfriend. Of course. Wyatt shoved down his growing resentment and raised an eyebrow. “Oh are you now?”

“I am.” Gary grinned proudly. “Did you know Wyatt…” he broke off suddenly, lost in a fit of giggles. “Did you know… that you are very pretty?”

Wyatt blushed, knowing that his friend probably didn’t mean the words. Whenever Gary got drunk like this, he grew very clingy and affectionate with everyone, though mostly Wyatt, before passing out and forgetting everything the next day. Gary didn’t often get drunk, as he didn’t actually prefer the taste of alcohol or the hangover the next day, but each time Wyatt would have to remind himself that it was just the liquor talking.

“I can’t say the same for you,” Wyatt informed him dryly, glancing down at his bedraggled state. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.”

He slowly maneuvered Gary over to one of their divan couches, bending over to lay him down on it. As he did however, the former grasped Wyatt’s shirt, tugging it suddenly and taking the other boy down with him. Wyatt yelped, barely catching himself on the other’s shirtsleeves. Gary glanced down at him, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hey.”

“You are a massive nerd,” Wyatt informed him. “And drunk and tired and going to hate yourself in the morning for drinking that much. I think you should have a glass of water and go to bed.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Gary cried, offended.

“Then don’t get black-out drunk and show up on my doorstep.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gary shushed, pressing a finger against his lips. Wyatt stared down at it, unimpressed. “Don’t be like that. You know what I think you need? A kiss. I’ll kiss it, make it better.”

Butterflies exploded in Wyatt’s stomach at the words he had longed to hear (albeit more coherently) for so long. Usually in his head, though, it was in a much different context than this. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could Gary was already leaning forward. Being drunk and out of it, however, his mouth entirely missed the other boy’s and ended up somewhere near his jawline. Gary evidently decided that that was good enough and started pressing silly, quick kisses all over his jaw and neck.

Wyatt squirmed underneath him, the kisses far too light for his taste. “Wait, no, stop!”

“Why?”

“B-Because!”

Wyatt was hoping that maybe Gary wouldn’t pick up on the reason. Unfortunately for him, Gary decided then to have a moment of clarity, and leaned back just slightly to grin down at him. “Oh I get it! You’re ticklish.”

Shit.

“N-No, I’m not,” Wyatt insisted, but it was too late as Gary slipped hands under his shirt, wiggling fingers against his bare skin. It was clumsy and drunken, but even the unfocused touch managed to drive the other boy up the wall as giggles fell suddenly from his lips.

“Wahahait,” he protested, shoving weakly at his shoulders. “N-No tihihickling!”

“Yes tickling,” Gary insisted stubbornly. “I like seeing you smile. And laugh. You don’t laugh anymore.”

“I-I doho tohohoo!” Wyatt squeaked, shrinking under him. “M-Make mehe laugh ohother wahahays!”

“No,” Gary refused, his hands climbing quite suddenly under the other boy’s arms. That was the last straw, and Wyatt easily flipped their positions, spidering more precise tickles all over the other boy’s sides.

However sensitive Wyatt may have been, Gary was ten times worse and drunk. The two facts when combined with Wyatt’s fingers, which were well-acquainted after years of friendship with all his tickle spots, resulted in a mess of flailing limbs and hysterical laughter from the other boy. He couldn’t even gather enough coherency to push his hands away, collapsing in a giggly puddle into Wyatt’s arms.

Wyatt quite possibly was going to be dead by the end of the night.

“Nohohohoho fahahahahahair!” Gary squeaked, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the sensations. “Y-yohohou cahahan’t gehehet mehehe bahahack!”

“Don’t start fights you can’t win,” Wyatt answered with a shrug. “It’s your own fault for being so ticklish all the time. Now, where was that spot you always liked?”

“Nohohohoho,” Gary cried, eyes widening, but it was too late as hands latched suddenly onto his hips, sending the boy into another level of sensation. “Nahahahaha, stahahahap! Ahaha, wahahait, ihihihihit tihihihickles!”

“I know,” Wyatt said, rolling his eyes with an affectionate smile. “That’s sort of the point.” After another couple seconds of torturing his friend, he did back off, letting the other slowly regain his breath. “There. Have you learned your lesson?”

To his surprise, Gary shook his head, grinning impishly and grabbing his hands. He placed them on either of his sides. “No. I haven’t.”

Wyatt furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Are you asking me to tickle you?”

Gary nodded, beaming. “It’s fun!”

Wyatt’s heart stuttered in his chest at the sheer honesty of the statement, the kind of honesty Gary would never reveal sober. There may also have been a part of him that was more than happy to reduce his friend to a mess of giggles again if that was what he wanted.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Wyatt asked, teasingly running his fingers over his sides so that Gary was squirming under him. “I’m not gonna easy on you.”

“Bite me,” Gary answered, sticking out his tongue. The obscene phrase was as close as he was going to come to answering him, and thus Wyatt got started.

Gary burst into giggles anew as Wyatt slipped his hands under his shirt, crawling his fingers up his sides. Gary attempted to pull his hands away, but each sluggish attempt was easily avoided. Inebriation, it seemed, served a form of bondage all in and of itself. “Ehehehehe, wahahahait! I-Ihihi cahahahan’t!”

“You can’t what?” Wyatt taunted, raising an eyebrow. “You have to use your words Gar.”

Gary flipped him a shaky middle finger and Wyatt pinched his hips in retaliation, prompting a hiccupy squeak from the boy.

Every giggle, snort, and whine from Gary fueled Wyatt on in a mission he didn’t quite understand himself. He couldn’t deny that his friend was quite cute like this, and the fact that he was reacting like this under his fingers made him happy in a way he couldn’t explain. Before he knew it, almost fifteen minutes had passed like this and Gary had reached a final point of desperation after Wyatt rediscovered how devilishly ticklish his armpits were.

“EhehehehEHEHE, WyhahahaHAHAhatt! Ahahahaha, nohohoho mohoHOHOHohore!” Gary arched against the couch, desperately trying to pry his hands away.

“Okay, fine,” Wyatt agreed, removing his hands and allowing Gary a chance to breathe. Gary opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get any words out Wyatt suddenly squeezed both his knees, causing the boy to nearly fall of the couch from his sudden flail. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

“You’re mean,” Gary accused, leaning his exhausted body against Wyatt. “And evil, and a jerk, and I am hopelessly in love with you.”

Wyatt froze as the airy words floated from his lips, Gary’s eyes already fluttering close into a contented sleep. “W-What did you say?”

“That you’re mean,” Gary repeated dutifully, sighing as he snuggled in against Wyatt’s shoulder. “Evil jerk….”

“No, no, the last thing,” Wyatt clarified quickly, needing to hear a confirmation, needing to know that he hadn’t simply imagined the words. “What was the last thing you said?”

Gary looped an arm around his shoulder and sloppily turned Wyatt’s head to face him. “That I’m hopelessly in love with you.” He leaned in suddenly, kissing him gently. Gary’s lips were soft, unbelievably soft for a boy. It lasted maybe five seconds, too long to be an accident or drunken mistake and too short for Wyatt’s satisfaction. After he pulled away, Gary dropped his head back onto Wyatt’s shoulder, exhaustion catching up him with. “I love you, Wy….”

“I—”

“Nighty-night.”

The words were murmured softly into his sweater before Gary was asleep once more, his gentle snores echoing throughout the expansive house. Wyatt closed his eyes, pressing a hand over his face as Gary’s warmth mixed with his own.

“God Gary,” he groaned. “You’re killing me here.”

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 15

first time reader - click here

TW/SUMMARY: Is bad humour a trigger? Cards against humanity. Loki in the wild. Chaotic Tony, chaotic Reader. Team bonding, a gag chapter lmao

My beta is babey 🥺 @miscmarvelwritings

If someone had bothered to ask me what kind of relationship I had with Tony, it would've made my brain glitch. In the weeks we spent fucking, sciencing and hanging out with the Avengers, it never once crossed my mind. We had fun and it was easy. Unlike both of our lives, it didn't require much mental energy for us to get what we wanted from each other. For me, it was easier to ignore my skin aching for Tony when he was already spending so much time on me. I wasn't sure if it would ever be enough, really, so taking exactly as much as he was giving was my best bet.

We built things in his workshop with Pete by our side and it wasn't awkward. The spiderling said he was happy as long as we were happy and didn't mind it too much when Tony got handsy. The man had at least some morals and stuck to kisses, ass-slaps and lewd comments which made Peter snort and fake-retch sure, yet the boy never displayed any real discomfort. It was endearing. He really became the little brother I never thought I would have.

The sex was fantastic, to say the least. We fucked on just about every flat surface on the residential floors. Steve caught us once, although I am almost hundred percent sure Tony staged it all on purpose. The good Captain didn't even blush, instead just silently closed the door behind him as I stared in his face, gripping Tony's head with my thighs.

The weather grew dreary yet both of my parents still stayed out of New York. Mother went back to Canada and dad continued his never-ending party on the West Coast, conquering California and living his best life. My house was dark and cold, and I started hanging around the tower more often than ever. If I wasn't with Tony, I was busy catching up Wanda and Bucky on pop culture, teaching Thor how to bake cakes and doing other meaningless, domestic stuff. The Avengers tower bustled with life at all hours and there always was someone...

I never felt lonely. It was such an unusual experience. Comfort and reassurance was always one room away. Be it Thor with his gratuitous amount of physical affection or his brother's incredibly witty, dark humor, I never had to stay one-on-one with my thoughts for too long.

Personally witnessing Bruce's coming out of his shell was the highlight of my life, no lie. I was so used to the quiet, mousy Banner that my brain refused to acknowledge his amazing sense of humour at first; I wasn't sure if he was joking or ... Or what? Truth to be told, Brucie-bear was as snarky as Tony,Loki and Stephen. The sorcerer had started visiting more often too, under the guise of tutoring Wanda, but all of us saw the way he lingered in the communal areas after their study time came to an end.

If loneliness was a sickness then the tower's inhabitants and frequent visitors were beginning their recovery journey.

"Have you guys heard about Cards Against Humanity?" I asked one evening once the movie credits began rolling. Wanda was squished into my side with her legs in her brother's lap; Clint laying atop both siblings like the trash bag that he was. And I meant it fondly.

On the other side of me, I had Bucky and Loki, who had begun to discuss their respective collections of sharp and pointy things once they deemed the movie lacked action. Legally Blonde and action, did they really think..? Nevermind.

"Yes, and if you're offering, the answer is yes," Clint mumbled, reaching for his second pack of Cheetos.

We gathered in a circle as I brought the shoebox that had the original deck plus a couple of expansions. This was beginning to look interesting. "So, I have the special Avengers edition right there..."

"Say no more," Clint even abandoned his snacks. "But I'mma put on the episode of Lucifer I missed. Multitasking," He winked, wrestling the remote from Pietro. We waited patiently as they finished the obligatory round of horsing before settling down for the game.

I explained the rules of the game, choosing to disregard Loki's scoffing and Wanda's doubt about the quality of the humor in the game. We played a few rounds with me explaining some of the deeper pop culture references. At a point where all of us were engrossed, laughing and poking fun at each other, more of the Avengers parked themselves on the couch.

Stephen, Tony and Bruce evidently had been sciencing, all three men having had their safety goggles perched forgotten atop their heads. Sam, Natasha and Steve - probably sparring. All three of them brought the smell of soap and laundry detergent to the room. All of the newcomers observed us with mild interest, periodically glance at the TV.

It was Wanda's turn to be the card Czar. I had to take a moment to finish my last giggling fit.

"Okay, the white card goes..." She paused dramatically. "I never truly understood blank until I encountered blank." With that, she poked the timer app on her phone. The sixty second countdown began.

I did a quick inventory check. Then I snorted. I had to quickly stuff two knuckles in my mouth, biting down, to attempt to silence the hysterical fit of laughter I was on the brink of. Loki was definitely going to stab me but the opportunity was too good to pass. No fear, we die like men.

"Ooh, she's got something," Clint teased, having noticed my shaking shoulders.

The timer beeped. Naturally, Loki went first. He wore a mildly disgusted smirk. "I never truly understood parting the red sea until I encountered third base," The trickster caved and began chuckling.

Somewhere behind me, Sam and Tony began cackling while Stephen and Steve groaned loudly in mild distaste.

"Press F to pay respects," Pietro clapped Loki on the shoulder with a sympathetic chuff. "I raise you - I never truly understood licking things to claim as your own until I encountered the clitoris," The young avenger struggled through laughter, followed by everyone else this time.

"That's a keeper, ladies," Sam's rich baritone quipped.

I laughed along, inwardly preparing for the inevitable. "Yikes," I whispered, side-eyeing Loki. "I never truly understood daddy issues..." I trailed off, hearing Bucky and Steve beginning to tease Tony. "... Until I encountered Loki, the trickster God."

The room drowned in a sea of laughter, Tony and Clint busting a gut so hard they fell over. Said trickster God was less than amused, however, glaring in my direction with the force of a pissed off bee swarm.

"Ow, that's cold, Princess, that's just cold," Clint squeezed out.

"Loki," I abandoned my stack of cards, crawling over Pietro and Bucky on all fours, settling prettily on my knees in front of Loki. Making my very best puppy eyes. "I love you, with all my cold black heart. And you're technically the patron saint of fun and shit, so that means you must approve of this very clever joke," I pouted, batting my eyelashes.

"Baby girl, I think you're laying it on too thick," Tony gasped, slumping on the couch, holding his sides. Everyone kept laughing, now at my feeble attempt at placating the upset Loki.

Who, by the way, looked a bit spooked. Subtly but surely, the raven-haired Asgardian leaned away from me.

"Don't be mad, I'm too cute to be mad at," I finally snorted, pat-pat-patting him on the shoulder. "It's okay, you can join my club. We have hot old dudes and cookies."

That broke it. First, the corner of his mouth twitched. Then, Loki looked away. I saw the storm before it crashed; with a weird noise of his own and his cheeks puffed out, Loki joined in on the shit-fest, howling full volume and doubling over. I followed suit, until all of us were writhing around on the floor. We'd stop and then someone would make another remark and it would go into another round again.

"Menace," Loki scoffed at me, smiling. "And for the record, the hottest old dude, as you put it, would be me." That said, he went back to calmly waiting for his next turn. "I'm about a thousand years old."

"Thor's older," Bruce noted thoughtfully.

Loki scoffed. "That man cannot chew with his mouth shut. If that's considered attractive, I'm leaving this forsaken planet."

That struck a thought within me. One that was brewing a long time, to be honest. "Thor is the god of himbos," I said with the same tone as "Eureka!".

"Shit, you're right," Sam exclaimed, following with another, weaker fit of laughter meanwhile Bruce had to be the one explaining the term to the poor, poor, clueless members of the Avengers.

I need to find a way to award them some kind of points for learning the gen-z lingo. "Patrick" stars maybe, since they lived under a fucking rock?

"Princess, never a boring day with you around. You don't half-ass this shit," Tony's warmth reached me as he shuffled around on the couch, sitting directly behind me. I leaned my back against his legs.

"I'm not a clown," I shot back. Tony stiffened. Dramatically flailing my hand I announced: "I am the whole god-damn circus!"

As the game progressed, we found out that Clint was That Guy - meaning, the dude every CAH group had, the one who grossly overused the "Bees?!" card and made Star Wars references whenever humanly possible. The only even slightly funny joke was about a lightsaber up the ass, in the end all of us finding out that Bucky knew a little too much about modern sex toys - "Hey, I saw one on Amazon, I'll send you the link, Birdman" - to Steve's open-mouthed horror.

What Loki lacked in references he made up in wit. The play on "During sex, I like to think about genetically engineered supersoldiers" had Bucky scrambling to switch places with Wanda whilst Loki himself was attempting to shoot bedroom eyes at Steve. It was a mess.

Bucky's own play had Steve abandon all pretense at being in any way appropriate as he struggled for air. "The Avengers new rules prohibit using Mjölnir as a dildo." Me and Tony became somewhat of a messy guffawing octopus of limbs for a moment after the super-soldier said it.

"Don't. Tell. Thor!" Strange gritted out, hiding his laughter behind a palm, uncharacteristically having lost his stuffy attitude. By god's will the man was attractive when he smiled.

As time ticked, each one of the starting players had attracted a newcomer. There weren't enough cards for everyone to play (Tony had, of course, ordered additional ones but they wouldn't arrive until the next day) so people kind of whispered and pointed at what they thought would fit.

Natasha conspired with Wanda, Sam went to his bird-bro, Bruce was forcefully dragged by Bucky to his side. Surprisingly, Steve teamed up with Loki which made Pietro stick his nose up in the air and promptly declare he needed no backup.

I already had Tony on my side. The genius wasn't of much help, however, he simply annoyed me out of my skull by randomly giggling and making immature jokes. It should've alarmed me that Stephen was eager to join me and Tony - usually he just butted heads with anyone who had any opinion whatsoever.

I was left bewildered upon discovering the wizard liked drama as much as the Kardashian clan and was quite competitive at causing the most shit.

My clown crown felt threatened.

"This one," Tony poked at a card in my hand.

"If you think that's funny, your intellect is obviously overestimated." Stephen dismissively waved a hand. "This one," It was unmistakable whom the trembling finger belonged to. It pointed at a card on the other side.

"Wizards are just hilarious," Tony seeped sarcasm.

"Try me, Beyonce," Stephen murmured darkly.

That was just background noise to me. I had all my undivided attention on the TV, my last two functioning brain cells focused on the scene unfolding right in front of me. The Lucifer episode, the devil and his insatiable thirst for honey. The timer buzzed but I was still drawn towards Tom Ellis dipping two of his fingers first in the honeypot, then in his mouth, all the while looking like a damn snack himself. Illegal. I've never simped so hard for a fictional character.

A golden glow snatched a card out of my grasp, levitating it.

"Girl, what the hell?" Wanda saw my face and attempted to revert me back to earth. "Someone turn off the TV, there's not enough water in the tower to quench her thirst."

"Hey, did you two just - don't ignore me!" Tony whined, managing to tug on my hair and attempt to reach for the card now held in Stephen's grasp, simultaneously.

"I don't blame her," Clint mused. "That right there is one very fine dude."

I shook my head, clearing any untoward thoughts. Focus. "First of all, Bird, you're a dude. That there," I pointed up at the TV. "Is a man. A Man." I emphasised, getting a jealous poke in the back from Tony. "Second of all..." I turned towards Stephen. "The quaffle, the snitch and the AUDACITY OF THIS BITCH!" The last of my sentence was pitched. The sorcerer had raised his arm, clutching the card, and I struggled to reach it.

"What... What did you just say?" Stephen was laughing, not at all phased by me climbing him like a tree to take hold of what's mine. Tony was actively helping - or, trying to. One-handed. The other hand attempted to snatch the rest of the cards from my grasp.

"And that's an F on teamwork," Bucky's sarcasm was complemented by Steve's famous Captain America Is Disappointed In You look.

"Uhh... Guys? What's going on?" Peter's timid voice leaked confusion.

"Hello, friends," Thor boomed, drowning out the boy's questioning noises.

"We're playing a game. Cards Against Humanity."

Wordlessly, Peter towed Thor along with him to find a spot amongst us. And even if Thor didn't get any of the references, he still was good fun. His laugh was infectious. The way he cheered for every winner was incredibly wholesome. Golden space puppy. The urge to immediately pet Thor and give him endless pop-tarts was strong in me.

Loki was one dramatic, vengeful bitch. "Women get turned on by the Devil himself"? I was ready to throw hands with the trickster. Everybody's laughter drowned out any cursing I might or might have not directed towards Loki who looked far too satisfied with himself. I was going to substitute the sugar for his tea with salt one day, mark my words.

I wouldn't admit it over my dead body, but the way he got back at me for the daddy issues joke was kinda funny. Okay, very funny. It was fucking hilarious. I admire a clever man.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby

[chaos-monkeyy]

Fic writer tag game! sort of tagged by @frankthesnek 😁

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

190! Climbing a lot faster towards the 200 mark than I did at the 100 mark, thanks to embracing the joy of drabbles, short fics, and deciding sometimes a quick fic without endless editing is in fact plenty good enough 😂

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

673,204 words total including various collaborative or group efforts that I didn't write alone (incidentally, I missed hitting exactly 666,666 recently by TWELVE FUCKING WORDS. Just close enough to make me go nnnnooooo..!! when I noticed... but not quite enough to be worth trying to edit my fics down by 12 words exactly 🙈 (and tbh it wouldn't quite feel the same as posting something actually tailored to hit that mark on purpose in the first place)

3) How many fandoms have your written for and what are they?

Twelve! (essentially, anyway - if you could all of Star Wars as a single large fandom)

Star Wars, Stargate, The Witcher, Midsomer Murders, Assassin's Creed, The Expanse, The Dresden Files, RPF, Stormlight Archive, The Mentalist, Aquaman, and Good Omens.

it's one heckuva skewed distribution though, the vast majority of my fics are SW, followed by stargate, and the rest trail off from there.

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All Geraskier Witcher fics, that being the biggest and most current fandom and ship I've ever been actively writing for 😂 - A Tight Fit, Stolen Moments, Undignified, Keep it up, and Intoxicating.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yup, always! Because I love getting them and I also love when I get replies on comments I leave on other writers' fics. And I like connecting with people 😊

6) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Hands-down it's my "Zombie / what's in your head" MCD thranto fic. I have a small handful of others with ambiguous or bittersweet endings, but that one is the only thing I've ever written that merits the Sad Ending and Hurt No Comfort tags (and oof does it ever merit them)

7) What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

hmmm... most of my fics have a happy ending in the "happy ending" wink-wink nudge-nudge 😉😏 sense at the very least 😂

But I'm probably gonna go with Curious Creatures (thranto filthy fairytale AU) because it really culminates with that "lived happily ever after" vibe. As opposed to the sort of.. "happy in the present and immediate future" happy ending of my typical in-'verse fics.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

Nope, I've thought of a few but never quite gotten around to writing one (maybe someday!). I have some weird fucking AUs that I really like though 😂

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes, but somehow very little? i.e. a whole lot less than I would expect to receive given what I write sometimes 😅 Worst hate I've gotten was actually on twitter rather than on AO3, once directed at me for an incest kink fic someone took offense to (it was mostly just funny), and once indirectly in a different fandom (seeing people making fun of a piss kink fic because they took offense to it.. existing in the character tag?).

I've had people be actively rude to or just ignore a co-author on fics I've done with friends more than once though, weirdly enough, which I actually find a lot more anger-inducing than hate directed at me is.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

....all of the smut 😂 mostly slash, lots of kink, some porn with feelings and some porn with plot and some where the porn IS the plot. And a whole lot of self indulgent PWP 😏

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep I've been really obviously ripped off before and it's a real shitty feeling

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah! Just once I think, but it was pretty neat to be asked 😄

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yup! Several times with a few different people, it was a lot of fun.

14) What's your all time favorite ship?

Don't really have one? I ship too many ships across too many fandoms to pick One Favourite For All Time 🙈 Plus, I mean... interests shift and I don't want to wind up making myself feel guilty for that if it does happen to even my favourite ships. I've seen people stubbornly holding onto a ship they don't seem to be all that interested in anymore, just because their whole fandom identity is wrapped up in it. It... really doesn't look like it'd be a fun time 😬

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

There's quite a few, some partially published and some still in my fic writing folders, but I hesitate to actually say "I don't think I'll ever finish This One" because sometimes I do randomly come back to shit out of the blue, or because a re-watch/-play/-read rekindles the interest in it again. Probably not likely in a lot of cases, but... squirrel-brain does what squirrel-brain wants to do 😂

16) What are your writing strengths?

Sex scenes 😎 and short fic of all flavours

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes my overly long sentences are good, but sometimes they do just unnecessarily make the paragraph harder to read. I also have a tendency to stray to far into Over-Description territory of characters' physical states and actions.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It can be effective and immersive, but only if it doesn't leave people confused and having to jump up or down to translation notes at the start or end. My favourite use of other languages in dialogue is to use it only for single words that are evident or explained in context, or for terms of endearment where it's not necessary to know the exact meaning of it (especially when that stuff is part of canon anyway, like the smattering of Italian used in Assassin's Creed, or Radek cursing in Czech)

If it's like full sentences, I just write the line in english in italics, along with something like "X replied in [language]" to signal it's happening.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Midsomer Murders 😊

20) What's your favorite fic you've written?

It changes, really... I guess currently it's probably Inflection Point just cause I'm still really proud of myself for actually doing it 😄

~

I also feel like I've been tagging people a lot lately, so I'll do like frank did and say Consider yourself tagged if you wish you were ;D

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Rings

Title: Rings

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1957

Square Filled: Fake Marriage

Summary: “What happens when the right guy comes along, see’s that ring, and high tails it out here?” – “I never thought about that. I guess, if he’s the right one, he’d stick around long enough to find out that the ring is a fake.”

Warnings: Fluff, Dash of Angst, Douche Bags, Rifle, Threats, Drunk Guys, Gross Guys, Some Explicit Language, and Lying…

Written for @spndeanbingo​

Disclaimer: Not my gif.

A/N: I am really proud of this fic. I feel like it’s not exactly what you’d expect from the Fake Marriage trope. At least, that’s what I think. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! This last fic concludes my SPN Dean Bingo 2019 Card! I made it just in time!! Happy Reading!! xx

The day had been a total shit show, and all you wanted to do was to have a seat at a bar, have someone else make your drinks, and get hammered! Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was. You’d only been in the, over twenty-one, establishment for merely ten minutes and there had already been one guy that had the nerve to interrupt your “me time,” and now thirty minutes in, another dumbass was trying to talk you up.

“Hey there good lookin’. You seem a little stressed. Can I buy you another drink?”

“Sorry pal, I just want to be alone,” you told him, not bothering to give him a second glance (not that you gave him a first one.)

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t be shy, let me just one drink?” He persisted.

“Seriously, I’m good right now,” you tried to remain calm.

“Alright, but if you change your mind, my friends and I are sitting by the juke box. Feel free to join us at any time,” he whispered, as if he thought he was being seductive. It was quite the opposite. His breath was rancid, and the stench coming off of him was just as criminal. You wondered how he could live with himself smelling like roadkill!

“Thanks,” was your only reply, letting out a heavy sigh when he left.

“Some guys just can’t take a hint,” the bartender tsked, her hands placed on the bar top in front of you. You looked up to meet the older lady looking past you, most likely at the group of guys that pig was hanging around with. “Mmm,” she hummed, a look of disgust in her face, “those fellas are one repulsive bunch aren’t they?”

A small smile cracked on your lips, glad that someone was on your side, not that anyone was against you to begin with, but still… this woman just made you feel a little better and you appreciated it.

“You didn’t smell him…” you murmured, slightly shaking your head side to side with trauma.

The older woman laughed. “The name is Ellen. I’m the owner of this bar.”

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come in hear before,” the older woman stated. “And if you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look like the type to come into dive bars. What happened?”

Letting out a defeated sigh, you met her chocolate brown eyes. “Figured going to a bar was a thing to do when shit hits the fan and you just want to drink it all away. I mean, I see it happen all the time in the movies, so I thought… why not? There’s a first time for everything. The only thing that’s different is that the main character in the movies don’t have to deal with drunk gross guys. The girl usually meets that cool mysterious strangers in a suit or leather jacket.”

Ellen laughed at your perception on bars. “Sweetheart, real life ain’t like the movies. Real life actually sucks. So… I have to asked,” she started, “why are you here instead of with your man?”

You looked up at her confused. “Man?”

“The ring. Your husband,” Ellen clarified.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Oh… that.”

“Yeah, that. What’s the deal? You don’t seem very happy.”

“Honestly, I don’t have a husband. I got out of a nasty relationship a while back and have sworn off men for the time being,” you confessed. “This is fake ring I bought off of Amazon. I wear it to ward off guys, which apparently doesn’t work on idiots.”

“What happens when the right guy comes along, see’s that ring, and high tails it out here?” Ellen question, the notion not once crossing your mind.

“I never thought about that. I guess, if he’s the right one, he’d stick around long enough to find out that the ring is a fake,” you shrugged, hoping your answer made enough sense to her, and you.

“Well, I wish you good luck kiddo,” Ellen smiled before having to help another customer.

Through the night, you got to know more about Ellen and the bar. The bar had been her late husband’s dream, but he unfortunately passed before he could even begin to see it’s possibility. In tribute and remembrance of the love of her life, she bought the bar, fixed it up, threw their name in front of it, “Harvelle’s”,  in blinking lights, and eventually it also became her dream. She and her daughter ran the joint, along with a few employees.

You were working on your third drink of the night, trading in your whiskey for a fruity cocktail drink this time – a strawberry daiquiri. Honestly. You were a little surprised that a small town dive bar had it on the menu, but you didn’t spend too much time thinking about it. You just wanted to enjoy the slight buzz you were feeling.

As you sipped your cocktail, a large figure planted themselves beside your left, but you didn’t bother to acknowledge their presence. All you hoped was that whoever it was, would leave you alone. The only company worthy of your attention was Ellen, your new found friend.

“Hi, what’s your name?”

You rolled your eyes at the interruption. “Sorry, I’m married,” you lifted your hand, exposing the evident ring on your finger.

“I don’t mind,” his hand closed over yours.

At that moment, you snapped, snatching your hand from his grasp and shooting him a death glare. “What kind of woman do you take me for?” You asked with offense. The man next to you was burly, with a beard like a homeless man, shirt wrinkled and most likely unwashed, and his hair was greasy. Why did you always attract the uncivilized ones?

“The kind of woman that likes to have fun,” he wiggled his eyebrows, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Please, just leave me alone,” you told him, bringing your attention back to your drink.

“Oh, c’mon. Let me show you a good time. You might be surprised at how much you’ll like it… and I know you’ll really like it,” he cooed, his tone over suggestive.

“Seriously, back—”

Before you could finish, another man showed up. “Didn’t you hear the woman say she’s married?” The new stranger hissed, slamming his left hand down on the bar top, a gold band around his ring finger. “Now, I suggest you back off of my wife before you get yourself hurt.”

You were shocked to say the least. This stranger was different than all the men you’ve come across the whole day. From your pig of a boss, to the scumbags littering the bar, this man was something else. He was dangerously handsome, scruff littering his jaw, emerald eyes hard and demanding, and god… he smelled good… and looked good. His expansive chest and shoulders clad in red plaid, which was definitely his color.

Wow.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” The disgusting man barked, standing to his full height. He was much larger than the handsome stranger, who didn’t seem to be scared at all. “You think a small fella like you can take me?”

It was true. The guy was much bigger than Mr. Smell’s so Delicious. He towered him several inches.

“I’ve taken down bigger,” Mr. Gorgeous Green Eyes scoffed unfazed.

The gross guy took a step forward and Sex God in Plaid didn’t flinch one bit. If you were being honest with yourself, you found yourself getting a little turned on.

“Alright, cut the crap,” Ellen came barreling in, a rifle in hand. “This is my bar and I will not condone to any sort of rough housing.” The asshole took a step back, but your Knight in Shining Armor didn’t seem at all worried. “You…” Ellen’s spoke to the creep, “… you and your buddies has harassed this poor girl long enough. Pay your bill and get out, before I shoot every single one of you between the legs. Her husband is here and she no longer needs your company.”

The beautiful stranger draped his arm over your shoulder protectively, staring down the creeper. “You heard the nice the lady, get out!” He growled.

The man didn’t hesitate to hightail it back to his group of friends. You watched as they quickly pulled out several bills before rushing out of the establishment. Your jaw dropped in surprise, thoroughly impressed at how both Ellen and Mysterious Perfection handled the situation.

“You alright?” the deepness of his voice vibrated through your body, causing heat to crawl up your cheeks.

“Uh.. y-yeah. I mean, yes. Thank you,” you offered a small smile. God, he was so handsome it almost made it hard to even look at him.

“Y/N, this is my nephew Dean. Dean this is my new friend Y/N. Take care of her for the night would’ya? She thinks life is supposed to be like those romantic comedy movies,” she teased, sending you a wink.

The action did nothing to settle your nerves or alleviate the tension raking over your body. In fact, she made it worse.

“A rom-com chick? Oh, no,” he laughed. “Should I be worried?”

The playful tone in his voice surprisingly put you at ease. “What’s wrong with rom-coms?” You scoffed, nudging his arm off your shoulder. “Don’t you have a wife you should be attending to?”

“A wife? Nah. I’m a free man, Y/N,” Dean gloated, taking a seat beside you. If he didn’t just save you from that douche, you would think he was an arrogant ass, but something about him told you that he was a genuinely good guy. Plus, if Ellen was entrusting him to take care of you, he must be a good man.

“Then what’s with the ring?”

Dean chuckled. “It belonged to my father. He passed away to cancer a few years back,” he confessed.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you suddenly became timid.

“He wasn’t the greatest father, but he did his best you know? Besides, if it wasn’t for him, me and my brother wouldn’t be the people we are today. Little brother is a lawyer and I’ve got my own chain of auto shops around the country.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“I guess. All that matters is that I’m pretty happy, you know? Anyways, what’s your story? Where’s your husband?”

This time, it was your turn to laugh. “Not married either. I swore of men a couple of years ago after I was humiliatingly dumped from my ex-fiancé. He cheated on me with his boss. When I called our relationship off, he took the ring and everything else. All he left me was my car and what ever was left of my dignity… which let me tell you, isn’t much.”

“Fuck. That’s harsh. What a douche bag!”

“Tell me about it,” you puffed out in defeat.

“Ah, screw him. You deserve better anyway. A tough girl like you don’t need a weak man like him.”

“Oh yeah? And what kind of man do I deserve?” you taunted, giving him your full attention.

A sly smirk stretched across his face. “Let me take you out tomorrow and I’ll show you.”

“Smooth,” you giggled, and Dean was laughing too.

“I’m serious. Let me take you out. You won’t regret it.”

You looked up at him with a wide smile on your face. “I have the utmost confidence that I won’t.”

Dean grinned. “Looks like we got ourselves a hot date!”

Again, you couldn’t control the laughter bubbling inside of you. He was a dork and you found it being far more attractive than you expected. You were looking forwards to that date.

Looks like it was time for the ring to come off.

--

A/N: My SPN Dean Bingo 2019 Card is officially complete! YAY! I hope you all liked the fics, and I hope you liked this last installment! If you did, please like and reblog! Leave some feedback! I would really appreciate it! Stay beautiful everyone! xx

[cheezritsu]

Taiwa 2014

Summary: It’s been a long time since Tsukishima has traveled back to his hometown, Taiwa. The last time he was here, he was moving out. But even still, there’s this unsettling feeling that he never truly left. Everything that ever mattered to him, Karasuno, Yamaguchi, his family, they were still here, like always. So why did it feel like something was missing?

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei X Reader

Word Count: 9.7K

A/N: I’m bringing what’s probably one of my favorite fics over to tumblr. crossposted on AO3 if you prefer the format. Also pain; lots of pain.

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

Sitting in Yamaguchi’s car with the windows down, messing up the left side of Tsukishima’s (too long) hair, he recalls one of the reasons he left Miyagi. 

He has resigned to not lean his arm outside, because the grey exterior has super heated to an ungodly degree, and he’s sure there’s a 1st degree burn that will be agitated the moment it slides against a volleyball court. He joked that Yamaguchi was trying to sabotage him, that maybe if they weren’t best friends he’d actually be upset. 

But it’s not like Yamaguchi can block out the sun. He didn’t remember Miyagi summers being so damn brutal, especially not in June. The sun beamed down on them as if God had a laser pointer on Yamaguchi’s Acura LX, which seemed pretty harsh even if the car was old. 

Sendai fades into the background, and the buildings get shorter and shorter like they’re descending stairs. Telephone wires criss cross the highways overhead, and incoming traffic gets a little congested. Yamaguchi leans back, exhaling slowly through his nose. 

“It’s always like this now. Everyone’s moving out of Tokyo and coming up north and for what? So they can hike up grocery store prices?”

“That’s awfully prejudiced of you, Yamaguchi. Why would they raise prices if they don’t know how to cook?”

Yamaguchi laughs. “Tokyo boys ain’t shit.”

“Careful,” Tsukishima gives a close lipped smile. “Your country accent is slipping through.”

“Yours is all gone.”

“I never had an accent.”

Yamaguchi hums when he grips the steering wheel, jerking the car left as he changes lanes. “Sure.”

Tsukishima keeps his mouth shut, as if sealing the evidence. 

The rip of motorbikes replaces the stalled car engines as his hometown becomes a highway exit. Like it’s been anything other than that. 

Tsukishima reels as they start to pass familiar landmarks. He never realized it was all so close together; it seemed like trips that used to take hours were now whizzing past at the blink of an eye. It couldn’t be Yamaguchi’s featherfoot on the gas, either. 

Suburbs isn't the right word to describe Taiwa. Hinata used to ride his bike uphill both ways to get to Karasuno, and all of his friends were spread out across the large expanse of undeveloped land. Animals likely outnumber the amount of residents in the town. When Kuroo used to call the team country bumpkin crows, he wasn’t exaggerating. 

Tsukishima narrows his eyes, and Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers over. “What’s got you so upset? You just got here.”

“It’s nothing,” he replies, then catches Yamaguchi still trying to look at him. “If I tell you, will you keep your eyes on the road?”

“As long as you don’t tell me something that’ll make me crash the car.”

“Just don’t crash the fucking car?”

“Spit it out, Tsukki!”

He grumbles at the old nickname. “I get enough of Koganegawa calling me that, thank you.” Date Tech’s school used to feel hours away; how long would it take under the wheels of this thing?

“Everything’s just. Closer than I remember.”

“Closer?”

“The places, I mean. The town feels smaller.”

A snort. “Sure is, hot shot. I see you got acclimated to Saitama real nice.” 

There’s something charming about the northern drawl of Yamaguchi’s words he knew he’d hate coming out of his own mouth. “It’s not the same.”

Yamaguchi’s chuckle tapers into a sigh. “Neither are you.”

The blocks become residential, and houses he used to know are obscured into oblivion. The people that bike by are different, the parked cars are newer, while some faces are just older in a way that settles like lead in Tsukishima’s stomach. 

And then he sees it: the house with wood paneling in the front, white everywhere else. Atop the stone pillars are the plants still taller than him, even though he’s upwards of 195cm these days. White undershirts catch the summer breeze on the clothesline, billowing like flags. Cross-hatched metal gate, a new car in the driveway. Faded pink door. 

Your house. With a for sale sign in the window. 

Tsukishima nearly breaks his neck as Yamaguchi passes it without so much as a glance. 

“Did you see that?”

“What?” Yamaguchi checks his mirrors. “Did I see what?”

The houses blend together once again. Everyone on the street carries on like Tsukishima hasn’t been shot through the chest. He slumps into his seat, listening to dogs barking and the laughter of children as everything goes accordingly. 

“It’s nothing. A kid fell off his skateboard. It looked pretty awful.”

Yamaguchi hesitates, but doesn’t question it. He minds his business, even when Tsukishima’s scowl falls into something a little more melancholy than usual. 

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

Tsukishima frowned from his post at the front desk, annoyed how your presence alone could stir...things in him. 

It had been a long time since he’d seen you at the museum. Perhaps that was good for his job security, but when he saw you walking up to him in a wool blazer that looks like a mirror image of the one he had on, he couldn’t help but admit he’d missed you. He didn’t know where you’d been, and he wanted to ask, but you flashed him the 460 yen entrance fee before he could speak.

“I’ll take the 4:15 personal guided tour.”

He schooled his face to keep it flat. “How many times have I told you—”

“It’s your last day, what are they going to do, fire you?”

The sarcasm was dry, and there was no twinkle in your eye. Tsukishima sighed, taking the money and putting it in the register. His replacement, a quickly scouted kid that was barely his shoulder height, tapped away on the computer next to him. “Hey, Hiroto.”

The boy was obviously younger, probably still in high school by the way his eyes widened when his senpai called for him. “Yes, Tsukishima-sama?”

You lean against the counter. “Sama?” you mouth, lips curling into that smirk he hated to love. 

“Take over the front desk for me. I have a tour to do.”

Hiroto squinted in confusion, but as soon as Tsukishima slid out of the booth the kid immediately took his place. He looked so nervous and unsure, and you, still leaning over the counter, sent him a wink. 

“Don’t worry kid, just make sure you turn this over.” Your fingers toyed with a plaque, tipping it over so it read Closed. Then, you cupped one hand over your mouth, whispering close to his ear. 

“This guy sucks at customer service anyways, and they kept him for a whole year.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes at your loud-as-all-hell whisper, pulling your arm. 

“Leave the kid alone.”

“I’m just giving him some friendly advice!”

“You’re going to give him a lot more than that if you keep with the “friendly” attitude.” Hiroto looked absolutely mortified, standing like a wooden plank at the front desk. You hummed. 

“How old is he?”

Tsukishima ignored your question. You looped your arm with his. “I feel like college students keep getting smaller and smaller these days.”

“That’s because you hung out with giants.”

You walked through an ornate archway into an octagonal room filled with glass cases of samurai memorabilia. The armour room had only a few stragglers left, all of them in silent contemplation. Against the archway, an employee Tsukishima recognized gave him a long glance as you two strolled past, but Tsukishima was more preoccupied with looking at you. He would sneak glances at your reflection in the glass, concerned by the indifferent frown you sported. Maybe it was the exhibits; samurais and swords were never your thing. But there was something he couldn’t put his finger on that made him anxious.

You either didn’t notice him staring, or you didn’t care. Waltzing through the halls like you were the guide, you two stepped into the completely secluded painting wing. Sharp angled walls jutted out to create more surfaces to hang the portraits. You tilted your chin, studying them like an art critic.   

 “Are you going to miss working here?”

Tsukishima shrugged. “It was fine. Gave me a use for my degree.”

“You regretting college now that you’re a superstar athlete?” The words are punctuated with tiny jabs to his arm, but they lack conviction. “Kinda seems like a waste, huh?”

Tsukishima frowned. The implication that the past four years spent being in your care and watching over you were suddenly useless didn’t sit right with him. “It’s not like I didn’t like it.”

“I know,” you sighed, moving onto the next painting. “It just seems like a detour now, doesn’t it? I mean, you’re a pro-athlete.”

There was a stress on how you said “athlete” that didn’t slip past him. He realized what was so off: you weren’t imitating the goofy poses of the long dead samurai anymore. Your all black outfit, once chic, seemed like you were in mourning. The heel clicks of your loafers brought his eyes back to you, where you stood with your hands grasped behind your back, pulling your fingers tightly. 

Tsukishima drew up to your side. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

You whipped your head around like you’ve been caught. “What’re you talking about?”

He snorted. “You’re a bad liar, you know. Your accent is your tell.”

“Shut,” you started to say, though it lacked a hard T and it made Tsukishima laugh. “Shut up.” 

It almost feels normal between you two. Almost. 

“It’s been weird, you know,” you started, voice barely a whisper. You looked like you were talking to Date Masamune’s portrait when you said “I’m back at home, and you’re not there anymore.” 

He didn’t know why you were saying that. He should have kicked himself in the ass and given you some kind of reassurance, but he was frozen, mouth agape with an unasked question. 

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Tsukishima always thought your profile should have been on these walls. You looked regal, even with your eyes fixed on the ground and an ashamed smile. “Who woulda thought two kids from Taiwa would be all the way out here, hm?” Your chuckle is self deprecating. “And now you’re gunna be playing for a Division One team in Saitama. Fuckin’ hot shot.”

You finally turn to him, head cocked with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m glad you’re getting out, Tsukki. It’s what you wanted, right?”

He can’t pinpoint what’s wrong with this image. Sometimes, it appears to him in dreams, your smile warped and faded like an overexposed photograph. The right words are floating in the ether above him, elusive, mocking. But he is destined to say the wrong ones. 

“Yes, it is.”  

You looked into Masamune’s eyes once again, like you could read the brush strokes and find the answer to the universe in them. “You deserve it, you know. Miyagi never suited you.”

 The irony was lost on him, as were most things in the moment. Your presence had now soured his mood, but you hooked your arms through his like nothing was wrong. 

“C’mon, this is the last time I’ll ever step foot in the place again; tell me something cool.”

You didn’t say “probably.” Tsukishima dwells on this now more than ever, because his response never addressed that. “Did you know there’s an anime series based on the Date Clan?”

Your laugh; that’s what he was more focused on. The way it lit up your face, and how you said “seriously?” a little too loud for the dead silent museum. Tsukishima hasn’t been back to Sendai City museum either, because this memory is pristine, and it’s the last one he has of you.

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

Tsukishima’s family is still the same. 

His mother has kept her hair short for the past fifteen years of her life, and Tsukishima might have a childlike tantrum if she’d cut it otherwise. But when Yamaguchi pulls up to his childhood home, she steps out of the house with her signature bob, sans a couple more grey hairs. 

The way golden hour makes his mother look ethereal never ceases to make him smile. She gives Yamaguchi a one-armed hug as he carries Tsukishima’s luggage inside, and Yamaguchi kisses her on the cheek like a better son would. 

All Tsukishima can do is stand in front of her with his hands behind his back, head dipped with a bashful smile as his mother cocks her hands on her hips. He feels sixteen again, fidgeting with his fingers when she comes closer, giving him a smile that could coax anything out of him. 

“You never stop growing, do you?” She has to stand on her toes to brush back his fringe. “Even your hairs’ gotten longer.”

“Can you cut it for me? I only trust you.”

A smile. He’s suddenly even younger; twelve years old, standing in front of the house and holding up the award from the science fair. His mother is so brilliant that the sun goes away, shamed by her beauty. 

“Of course, Kei. Come on, your brother’s waiting.” 

Nothing’s changed in the house. Muscle memory brings him to the kitchen, where the table is set for four. Yamaguchi sheds his jacket, but Akiteru swoops behind him, snatching it from his hands. 

“I’ll take that, Tadashi.” He’s as smooth and polite as ever, grinning the megawatt smile he inherited from their mother. Akiteru may be a full head shorter than Kei now, but the slap his older brother gives him still makes him lose balance. 

“You done growin’ yet, you little jerk? Huh?” Akiteru has grown less doting in years gone by, much to Tsukishima’s own (disgusted) dismay. Akiteru stops, looking him up and down before that teasing grin distills into something prideful. In a flash, he is pulled into a tight hug, the pats on his back more tepid and loving. Tsukishima leans in for only a moment, and then Akiteru holds him at arms’ length. 

He suspects Akiteru will say something sappy, but Yamaguchi’s jacket is thrust into his arms. “Be a good friend and put away Tadashi’s coat, will you?” He gives an infuriating wink before helping his mother in the kitchen. 

Tsukishima turns, even if only to hide the sentimental smile that graces his lips. When dinner is finally ready, Tsukishima sits beside Yamaguchi, facing his mother, and suddenly he is nine years old again; Yamaguchi is over for dinner and Akiteru will no doubt embarrass him, but it’s okay because mom cooked their favorite. Time stands still and the sun doesn’t set, not for them. 

It’s almost enough to make him forget. Almost. 

“Did you know the (Surname) house is for sale?”

Yamaguchi blinks, but his mother doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, you saw?”

“It’s the one on the way here, with the pink door. It’s hard to miss.” Tsukishima keeps eating like its normal conversation--isn’t it?--but Yamaguchi’s eyes are trying to x-ray his skull. 

“It’s been up for a little while, hasn’t it Aki?”

Akiteru, who’s sixth sense is his little brother’s emotions, clears his throat. “Probably since March.” 

“They’ve been wanting to get rid of that house since (Name) left.”

Hearing your name out of another person’s mouth sends a ripple through Tsukishima, like he’s been punched in the stomach. Akiteru and Yamaguchi don’t miss the way his breath hitches, how he drops his utensils to crack his knuckles. 

“It’s probably too big for them anyways,” he says, returning to his meal, head bowed so he can’t see their prying eyes. “They’re getting kind of old.” 

“It’s been so long since it was full, hasn’t it? Their older daughter moved out over a year ago, I think.” 

His mother’s words buzz in his ears as the conversation dornes on. Akiteru steers it away from the house, asking about Tsukishima’s appointed condo in Saitama, but he only gives one word answers through the fog in his mind.

Suddenly, he is eighteen, time fast forwarding as his glasses change and his hair gets shaggier, and you, like his mother, brush it out of his vision. Yamaguchi sits on Akiteru’s left because Tsukishima scowled at the idea of you sitting next to his brother. It’s not like it even matters, because you aren’t his: everyone in the room is showering you with attention and you have to divide yourself four ways, giving them individualized smiles.

“--(Name) really broke their hearts when she left.”

“Huh?”

As it turns out, eighteen wasn’t so long ago. His mother smiles fondly at a memory. “She was a firecracker, wasn’t she? Used to walk around like she owned the place. Her older sister was always more respectful.”

“Wasn’t her older sister in a rock band?” Akiteru reminisces. 

“Yeah, but which one was constantly skipping school and getting caught with boys?”

“Younger sibling privileges. They get to do whatever they want and never get punished.”

His mother laces bridges her fingers, then leans her chin down. “But everyone still loved her, didn’t they?” His mother’s eyes are far away, like she was in the same moment as her son. “I miss her.”

Tsukishima doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but he has to force the words out of his throat. “Why’re you all talking like she’s dead? She just lives in...wherever the hell she got whisked off to. Who knows?” 

The entire table halts, staring at him. Akiteru and Yamaguchi share another secretive glance, and Tsukishima’s forehead throbs. 

“Whatever, can we just talk about something else?”

Another reason Tsukishima revered his mother: she knew how to deal with him. “Of course dear,” she says, her voice never even missing a beat. “You haven’t even told us about your last match!”

“It was televised,” he drones, but Yamaguchi gangs up on him

“It was your first time playing against the Black Jackals, though.” Despite his years of practice, Yamaguchi still has some hesitance when he changes topics. “Was it satisfying blocking Hinata’s spikes? I bet you liked shutting down Miya Atsumu.”

There’s a twitch to his lips as he gives Yamaguchi a grateful glance. The rest of dinner goes off with little conflict, and Tsukishima groans when Akiteru pulls out strawberry shortcake and the alcohol that pairs poorly with it--beer.

“I’m not drinking that.” Tsukshima means it, too, leaving his brother and Yamaguchi to their own devices. His mother cleans up easily with the extra set of hands, and while they chat over booze, he drops his things off in his old room. 

It’s the same as when he left. His old books are still on the shelves, the dinosaur figures covered in a thin, disrespectful layer of dirt. His first Karasuno jersey still hangs next to his door, swinging idly when he enters. 

It, like Taiwa, feels small. Perhaps it’s because his bed is still full sized, and his feet hang over the edge. His suitcase doesn’t really fit anywhere, and when he sits down at his desk, he can barely fit his knees under it. He feels like he’s in a dollhouse, or worse; a museum. 

The last time he was here, he was moving out. But even still, there’s this unsettling feeling that he never truly left. Everything that ever mattered to him, Karasuno, Yamaguchi, his family, they were still here, like always. 

So why did it feel like something was missing?

There’s a knock on the door he didn’t remember closing. When it opens, the light from the hallways creeps in, and Yamauchi peers inside. “Why are the lights off?”

“It wasn’t dark when I sat down.”

Yamaguchi pushes the door open with his back and when Tsukishima sees why, he lets out a snort of disbelief. “Where did you dig that up?”

The Kahlua bottle has a layer of grime on it bleach probably couldn’t cut through. It’s barely half empty, sliding across the desk into Tskishima’s waiting hands. How his friend was able to balance the bottle, a beer, and a glass of milk between his fingers was beyond him; perhaps it was the years of volleyball under his belt.

Tsukishima isn’t light handed when he pours his drink, clicking the glass with Yamaguchi’s beer and relishing it with a long sip. 

“You looked like you needed it.”

“I’m fine,” he hides his lie with another sip. Yamaguchi isn’t fooled in the slightest. 

“I didn’t know they’d bring it up.”

“You guys can stop using euphemisms, you know.” His amber eyes are dull when he looks over his glasses. “She’s not Beetlejuice.”

Yamaguchi laughs. “I suppose she won’t appear if we speak her name three times, but she’s frightening all the same.”

“Frightening isn’t the right word,” Tsukishima thinks, staring at how the liquor and milk swirl galaxies in his glass. Maybe if he looks hard enough he’ll find the right word to describe you, but the thought stays unfinished. 

Leaning on the wall, Yamaguchi turns his head to look out the window at the last vestiges of light. “Sometimes I think I see her in the convenience store; you remember the one we used to eat at after practices in third year?” Tsukishima nods at the memory. “I’ll just be standing in line, and then out of the corner of my eye, there she is. Like a hallucination.” 

Yamaguchi’s glazed eyes come back into focus, smiling sheepishly. “It’s stupid I know. It’s just,” he stares down at the floor, shifting his weight. “I know she hated Taiwa, but I thought she loved us.”

The drink has gone sour in his mouth. Tsukishima sets it down with a heavy thud, looking at Yamaguchi with a blank expression. 

“I guess she didn’t.”

Yamaguchi frowns, then tilts his head back to finish his drink. “I don’t know why I thought I’d talk to you about it,” he humorlessly scoffs. “It’s been what, five years?”

“You’re the one seeing her in grocery stores. She got what she wanted; she left this place, married her rich CEO husband, and forgot about us ‘northern folk,’” Tsukishima exaggerates the accent he fought so hard not to maintain. “I’m not going down memory lane with you. Not this one.” 

His tone drips with finality, and Yamaguchi pushes himself off the wall. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he says, leaving the Kahlua bottle on the desk. “But don’t act like you didn’t want her to stay, too.”

Yamaguchi leaves him alone in the dark. His footsteps pound down the staircase, and as they cease, Kei slouches into his chair, defeated. He tops off his drink, taking a miserable sip while his feet push the office chair side to side. 

 He spins idly, and the years unravel at the seams. 

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

Not so suddenly, he is twenty years old. It’s not a milestone, not in Japan, not anywhere in the world, and yet, you wanted to celebrate. 

The day after his birthday was a lot more memorable than the actual party. Not because he was black out drunk, but because when he came back to your apartment after getting a fabulous nights rest, he was greeted with not just you, but your three overnight guests. 

“What the hell happened to them?” 

It was both luck and a curse that the MSBY Black Jackals were in town for a match. The few members that knew Tsukishima had come over for his birthday party, and the morning after they were face down at your kitchen table. Instead of their usual lively antics, they were slumped with hangovers, groaning in harmony. 

“You’re too loooud Tsukki!” Bokuto yelled, making Atsumu Miya hiccup. 

“Bokkun, please shut the fuck up,” he whispered, that melodic Kansai dialect shriveled and dry in his throat. His presence had been most shocking, but the way he called him “the snarky middle blocker” proved that he truly did remember him. 

“Language,” Hinata’s tiny voice squeaked out and you chuckled behind your hand. 

“They’ve been like this all morning. apparently they can’t head back in this condition, so,” you held up a frying pan. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Yer an angel, sweetheart,” Miya said, drawing himself up from the table. “If you had any painkillers you’d be a god.”

“You better get to worshipping then,” you pointed to the cabinet. “Bottom shelf, all the way against the wall.”

“Marry me,” he joked, and Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at your laughter. There was something about how your hair was pulled back with a headband that made him want to possessively kiss your forehead, but he held himself back. 

“What?” You said, and he realized you’d been staring at him too. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“There’s nothing picture worthy here. Except maybe those two.” He jabbed a thumb to the duo rolling on the floor. “Might keep it for blackmail.”

“You can’t blackmail people who don’t get embarrassed,” you reminded him, beginning to crack eggs into a bowl. Everything looked so effortless when you did it; even Miya was impressed by how you whisked together the eggs in a homogenous scramble. 

“Gosh, is there anything you can’t do?”

“Basic mathematics, hold her alcohol, go five seconds during a movie without crying,” Tsukishima ticked off his fingers. “Need I continue?”

“I can’t stand you, so there’s another thing,” you bit back, and Miya laughed behind you. You hummed. 

“You’ve got a pretty voice, Miya-San. Where’re you from?”

He raised an eyebrow at your compliment. “Well ain’t you sweet? I’m from Hyogo, darlin’, more specifically Kawanishi.”

The stove made that loud tick tick tick! as the flame flickers to life. It’s like that scene from Howl’s Moving Castle, and Tsukishima is enraptured at the sight of you pulling apart strips of bacon and placing them in the sizzling pan. 

“Kawanishi,” you muttered, and Tsukishima knew that longing, tired voice of yours. It always broke his heart. “Is it big?” 

“Not really; maybe ‘bout less than 200 thousand people.”

You scoffed. “Where I’m from, that's huge.”

The setter cocked his head. “Ain’t you from Sendai?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the last consonant. “I’m nobody from  the middle of goddamn nowhere.”

“It’s not like you had to bike uphill both ways to get to school!” Hinata piped up from the table. “At least you lived closer to Karasuno than I did!”

“Ah, is that how you know this guy?” Miya jutted his chin toward the taller blonde. Their gazes met momentarily, and through Miya’s whisky brown eyes, Tsukishima saw a black hole of hunger. He looked back down to you as you drained the bacon onto a paper towel. 

“Yup.” You were proud when you said it. “Tsukki and I have been together forever.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you were dating.”

Tsukishima didn’t correct him, but you did. “We’re not not dating. Hell, to be honest we don’t even go that far back. We’re both from Taiwa, which isn’t really weird because it’s a huge place, even though there’s barely thirty thousand people in it.” A fond smile played on your lips, and you fixed Tsukishima with an adoring look.

“Thirty thousand people, and I lived walking distance from you. And you never even knew I existed.”

If he wanted to kiss your head before, the urge was stronger now. He licked his lips, putting the feelings aside. “What do you want me to do, apologize?”

“Hmm, no. I think I’ve harassed you enough to make up for it.”

That little smile on your lips said it all. You busied yourself with cooking once again, and Miya looked between you two like there was something tangible. If there ever was a red string of fate tied to your pinkies, it has long since been severed. But in this memory, the two of you danced around each other in the kitchen with ease, plating breakfast for five like husband and wife. 

Actually, it was just four. You returned to cleaning the apartment, quite a monumental task with all the drunk volleyball players you’d had over last night. Tsukishima had dipped after everyone was either safe at home or tucked in on your couch, and daylight was not kind to the aftermath. 

“This is why I didn’t ask for a party,” he said, watching as you tossed beer cans into a trash bag. 

“You should be grateful she threw ya a party, string bean,” Miya said in between bites of toast. The eggs on his plate matched the blonde of his hair, and Tsukishima can never unsee this. “Even more so that it was a rager.”

“Yeah! (Name)-san has always been so nice to you.”

Tsukishima choked on his drink. “You must have gotten the memory knocked out of your head with a receive, shrimp. That woman has never been kind to me.”

“I threw you a whole party!”

“I am once again asking when I told you to do that.”

He could hear your petty insults drift away as you walked out of the living room. There was only the sounds of utensils scraping against plates until you stomped back in, holding up a box that filled your arms. It’s wrapped up perfectly, because you were always good at that; in second year of high school, every member of the volleyball team brought their Secret Santa gifts for you to wrap. You charged everyone five dollars, except for him. 

When you got closer he could see the dinosaur stickers you’d placed sporadically across the surface, and Miya snorted with laughter when you unceremoniously dropped the present in Tsukishima’s lap. 

“Happy birthday, asshole,” you spat, but he could see how the corners of your mouth tipped up in a suppressed smile, getting wider by the second. 

“Well? Open it Tsukki!”

“Yeah, I wanna see!”

The peanut gallery beside him banged their hands on the table, and Miya groaned, clutching his forehead. “I’m begging you two to stop.”

Tsukishima let them carry on in their torture for a little while longer, liking the sight of the setter gnashing his teeth. When it became too much for even him, he opened the gift at the seams, careful not to rip the wrapping paper. It was pretty cute, and he smiled at the visual of you sitting down on your bedroom floor and strategically placing the stickers, your head bouncing to a playlist he’d shared with you. 

When he lifted up one long edge, he caught a glimpse of the gift, and his breath hitched. He gazed up at you in disbelief, peeling it all back to reveal the turntable in all its glory.

Tsukishima is a pro-athlete now; he could afford music systems that cost more than a regular citizen’s car, and yet he still proudly displays this exact one in his Saitama apartment, and he always gets compliments from the girls he brings home. Above the wall, in a frame never to be touched, is the first record you ever gave him; the one he will find out momentarily was sitting under the box. But he wanted to drink in that particular moment, the moment his heart stopped completely. 

The other three leaned over to get a better look at it, oohing and ahhing at the sight. Tsukishima was too busy memorizing your proud smile, your hand on your hips, and how the constriction of his heart resembled love a little too closely. 

“Because you’re always lamenting you don’t have one. Just so you know, the only presents you’re ever getting from me are vinyls.”

He should have hugged you. He should have told you how much it meant to him, but he just assumed you could see it on his face. Maybe he expected too much from you. 

But he did say, “Thank you, (name).” with the most sincerity he’d ever used, and you’d smiled like you knew he loved you.

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

Tsukishima knows he does not have enough money to buy a house, and isn’t even interested in buying one, but that doesn’t stop him from putting on his (second) best clothes and working through whatever the hell he’s going to say to the person who opens your (old) front door. 

It’s the second dumbest thing he’s ever done. The neighborhood is bustling today, and a couple people do double takes as he strolls by with his headphones up, cap tilted low. He’s aware he kinda looks like he’s undercover in a Marvel movie, but there’s only so much he can do; height is a curse, he keeps telling people, but they never listen. 

He blends in enough not to get stopped, which may be yet another curse, because then he’d have time to recollect his thoughts and ask what the fuck he thought he was doing walking to your parents house in the middle of the goddamn day like they didn’t have jobs. Had his brain finally conked out now that he was a jock for a living? 

Maybe so, because the faded pink door was finally in sight. From the street he could see it clearly: a realtor’s number under the brilliant bold FOR SALE, like it’s yelling at him to leave. But his eyes drift, catching the little details of your house.

Everything in his memories has shrunk and distorted, but not this place. It’s still as clear as day: the red brick steps up to the door, lined with potted plants your mother had a talent for growing. The iron gates have rusted with time, and they stand much shorter now that he’s 195 cm. The bushes were trimmed into weird rounded shapes, both indicative of the neighborhood, and still odd in your front yard. The second story balcony had the same sheets—the same fucking ones from high school! Tsukishima had to laugh. 

And then his laugh tapers off as he realizes they’re yours. Purple with little moons and cartoon bunnies on them. The sheets from Sailor Moon! Your whine is an echo in his ears.

He’s just standing there, hands in his pockets as the memories bombard him one by one, crowding his brain, making him lose his—

The front door opens, creaking like a horror movie sound effect. Tsukishima steps back, watching in terror as a figure comes into view, checking his pockets before lifting his head up and seeing a man—a fucking giant—standing right outside his house.

“Hello?” he greets cautiously, stepping closer.  

Tsukishima holds in a breath. Your father has gotten old; almost all the hair on top of his head has thinned and greyed, like a samurai in a black and white movie. He’s still wearing the same uniform from the manufacturing plant he was employed at back when you were in high school, his (your) surname stitched on the pocket. He holds a lunchbox in one hand, the other curled into a defensive fist by his side. Intimidating as always.

 That is until he squints, and then his eyes light up with recognition. “Tsukishima? Tsukishima Kei?”

With equal hesitation, Tsukishima walks up to the gate. Your father pushes it open, and when he walks down the steps to be on even ground with Tsukishima, he laughs at how much shorter he’s become. 

“My god,” he whispers it like he’s staring at a ghost. Tsukishima feels too aware of his long legs and arms, holding them behind his back when he bows respectfully. 

“(Surname)-san,” he says, and your father’s eyes twinkle. “It’s been a long time.”

“So it has. How have you been, boy? I hear you’re playing for Saitama now.”

The recognition has him reeling. It’s too much, he shouldn’t have come. His stunned silence makes your father laugh. 

“No need to be modest about it! We’ve been following your progress, you know.” He sounds proud, as if he was talking to his own son. “I always brag to my coworkers that a pro-athlete used to come to my house. Three of em, really! How fortunate you’ve all been.”

“Thank you,” he says stiffly. “It’s been such a long time.”

“How is your mother?”  She must be awfully lonely without you two boys in the house.”

“I’m visiting her now. She told me your house was for sale?”

Your father was never an idiot. He looks up at the for sale sign, something heavy settling on his shoulders. “Both of my daughters have moved farther away than we intended,” he sighs, although there is no particular sadness in his tone. “I’m proud of them both, really, although (Name) has less filial piety than her sister.”

“She was,” Tsukishima cannot use the word that comes to mind in front of your father. “Something.”

Your father barks out a laugh. “That’s the polite way to say she was a pain in the ass.” Tsukishima’s posture visibly relaxes. “You couldn’t tell her nothin’. Sort of a shame she’s someone’s housewife, ya know? She would have done great things.” 

This time there is a wistful quality about his voice, but it vanishes as quickly as it came. “You know, you haven’t been here in a while. (Name)’s mom would love to see you. You were her favorite of all (Name)’s friends, I think.” 

A paternal pat on the arm makes all thoughts of weaseling out of this fly out the window. Tsukishima ascends the steps, the top of his head brushing just underneath the archway. 

“They don’t make houses for your height, I’m afraid.” 

“I’m used to it.” 

He wasn’t sure why he expects the inside will be any different. There’s no new furniture, the walls are all the same color, even the books your parents kept out were arranged the same way from nearly five years ago. The only difference is you’re not running down the stairs to save him from the embarrassment of talking to your parents.  

“Honey?” your father’s voice calls out as they round a corner. “You’ll never believe this: there was a professional athlete just standing outside.” 

You mother looks over her small glasses from where she’s sitting, her brows furrowing, then raising as she places her hand over her mouth. Much like his own mother, time has been kind to her, the only signs of aging appearing in the grey that grew from her back roots. 

“Oh my-” she’s standing in front of him with an awed look, and Tsukishima remembers that you and your mom have the same face, just older. He once thought he’d get to see you this age, maybe even in a house like this. His eyes fall to the floor, because your mother looks like the future he can no longer have.

She holds his arms like she’s going to lift him, her lower lip trembling. “Look at you! So tall, still so handsome. (Name) was an idiot for never making you my son-in-law.”

It used to be embarrassment that pained him. Now it was bittersweetness filling his mouth as he thought of something to say to that. “Yeah, she was” feels a little too familiar, and not at all cognizant of his broken heart.

“Oi,’ your father warns. “Enough of that, yeah?”

“Oh,” she swats her hand in his direction, then looks back up to Tsukishima with praising eyes. “I’m kidding. Kind of.”

Tsukishima rubs his arm, giving her a strained grin. He didn’t expect your parents to reopen the wound he’s done his best to forget. Time is supposed to heal all, but you are a fever that’s never broken. 

“I came by because I saw the house was for sale.”

Your mother’s face softens. “Oh, you must have so many memories here. Gosh, you haven’t been here in a long time.”

“Years” your father pipes up. 

“Years. You should head up to (Name)’s room, you might find something in there.”

This simultaneously piques his interest and fills him with existential dread. “Is that alright?”

“You’re probably the last person in Taiwa that has attachments to this house besides us.”

The sobering reality of that statement makes him drag his feet up the stairs. He looks back down, and he feels like he’s staring backwards in time. Every step forward is another year, and suddenly he’s anxious like he’s entering a girl’s room for the first time. 

Your presence, though missing, is overwhelming. He remembers condensation from something dripping onto the hard word floors he’s standing on now, your heart patterned socks mopping it up behind him.

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

The sun was still up over the horizon, late July prickling Tsukishima’s bare arms with the last vestiges of heat. Your white dress shirt was speckled with little dots of red like a blood splatter. 

“You look like a homicide victim.”

“You look like you swallowed blue paint.” 

Convenience store slushies were actually a terrible way to beat the heat. They condensed and made the cup soggy, meanwhile the ice in the drink melts immediately after it leaves the machine. But Tsukishima wasn’t going to say no when after ten minutes of begging, Hinata proclaimed he would buy him “his last slushie of high school.” Tsukishima had just clicked his tongue, telling the excited middle blocker, “As long as you’re paying,” so he wouldn’t see how red his ears were.

Hinata and Yamaguchi chuckled at your little back and forth, while Kageyama slurped his drink with a seriousness that didn’t suit the moment. Bathed in sunshine, you all looked like bronze statues: immortal, eternal and infallible. That couldn’t be farther from the truth, but Tsukishima still liked the analogy. 

“You would think after spending like, every waking moment together these two would be nicer to each other.” Hinata hummed.

“I thought graduation might make them sentimental,” Yamaguchi sighed. His hair was long back then, decorated with multicolored clips you had strategically placed to match their uniforms. Tsukishima has told his friend once and only once that he liked this hairstyle on him the most. He doesn’t know if it’s because he has the happiest memories associated with it or not. Not that Tsukishima would ever say that. 

Yamaguchi pulled his little ponytail taut. “And to think, I wanted them to get their happily ever after.” How a person could look so much like the tear drop emoji, Tsukishima would never know. Your disgusted grunt broke his thoughts. 

“Ugh Yama, please,” you begged, throwing away your slushie like he’d spoiled your appetite. “Will you cut it out with this fantasy of yours?”

“What? Wouldn’t it be nice if my two friends got married?”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Tsukishima deadpanned.

“I’d divorce him and steal all his money.”

“Now you’re entertaining the thought.”

Hinata jumped excitedly. “I think it’d be really cute! You guys are going to the same University right?”

Tsukishima bristled, staring at his shorter teammate with contempt. “That means nothing.”

“It means you still have time!”

Tsukishima hated the gremlins optimism, but in that moment, with the sun painting a strip of light across your already brilliant eyes, he’d had the fleeting thought that Hinata could be right. 

(He can’t kid himself. It wasn’t a passing thought; it was all consuming, like a tsunami. He couldn’t sleep, because he would dream of domesticity, and your next words cemented how unrealistic this was.)

You waved your hand at Hinata. “I’m not the marrying type, Hinata-kun.”

(A complete lie, but back in 2014, he’d believed you.)

“Besides, what’s so exciting about marriage when Kageyama’s going to be a famous athlete by next year, hm? And you’re off to fucking Brazil.”

All eyes shifted to the quiet setter, still casually drinking his slushie. When he opened his mouth to speak, his mouth was comically purple. 

“Marriage isn’t any less significant than being an athlete.” He’d said, sounding very much like the student counselor. Then he grimaced. “But you two would be an unholy couple.”

You broke into piercing laughter. The sound still rings in Tsukishima’s ears. “Kags, will you join me and Tsukki in an unholy matrimony?”

“You want me to get married to you two?”

“No, idiot, she wants you to officiate the wedding.”

“What wedding?”

“I-“ Tsukishima shook his head. “Good fucking question. I’m not marrying you.”

He wonders from time to time if you’d been serious back then. It didn’t make any sense when you were third years, but in retrospect, maybe, just maybe you were hinting something. That sun-made sparkle in your eyes glittered with dimension, and underneath the mirth was something Tsukishima never understood. He thought he would have more time to. 

“My original point still stands,” you said, exasperated. “You’re all going off to do great things, and I’m just going to Tohoku.”

“Oi,” Tsukishima chided. “Don’t make it sound so inconsequential when I’m going there too.”

“You're literally going on a full ride with your volleyball scholarship,” you rolled your eyes. “So, no, it’s not inconsequential. It’s just not the same.” 

Tsukishima will not be able to fully read you until freshman year of college, so he didn’t catch your downturned lips or how you tried to blink away welling tears. He just thought you were malfunctioning. “You’re being weird.”

“It’s not weird to miss your friends.”

“AHHH! (Name)!” Hinata jumped high enough to nearly kick you in the head. He looked at you with teary eyes and you’re astonished, even though you’ve known him for three years. “Don’t miss us! Don’t be sad!!”

“We’re not even gone yet,” Kageyama grumbles, and you grasped at your heart, confusing him. 

“Kageyama...do you care about my feelings?”

“What about his response gave you that idea?”

The black haired setter clicked his tongue. “I’m just saying, we haven’t graduated yet so you don’t have anything to be sad about right now.”

“I can’t believe the Kageyama Tobio is giving me a pep talk,” you dabbed at your eyes dramatically. Kageyama flicked water onto your face, and you giggled. 

“Hey!” He was relentless, so you hid behind Tsukishima who didn’t have a quick enough reaction time to be mad at you. Not that he would say anything about the way your hands touched his sides, sending a jolt down his body. His face is probably as red as a slushie. 

“Kageyama, when you’re rich and famous I’m going to send all the embarrassing pictures I have to the paparazzi.”

Yamaguchi laughed at the mental image. “That would take an hour long special.”

“A two part hour long special.”

“You’re a fake friend,” Kageyama said, and you prop your head on his shoulder. 

“That would imply that I don’t love you all, and that could never be true.”

You used to say such brash things so casually. Kageyama, with his congested emotions, bloomed into a furious blush. Hinata mocked him, pressing his wet hand against his heated face, much to Kageyama’s dismay. Chuckling at the freak duos antics, you shuffled into Tsukishima’s side, who simply looked on with indifference. 

“You’re such a sap, (Name),” Yamaguchi notes, and you gave him a brilliant smile, more golden and beautiful than the sunset at their backs. The only thing Tsukishkma laments is that the smile wasn’t aimed at him. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

Tsukishima walked ahead of everyone, slurping aggressively on his slushie, trying to quell the jealousy that erupted in his chest. He didn’t have the right to feel so possessive over a friendly declaration, but it still worked its way into his heart. 

Suddenly you were beside him, leaning forward to catch his expression. “What’re you hiding from?”

“Who says I’m hiding.”

“Ya know, Tsukki, you shouldn’t be jealous,” Your grin is troubling and sweet, because you’re a walking contradiction. Here and gone all at once.

“Who says I’m—“

“Because I love you most of all.”

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

The door to your room is open. Tsukishima stands at the threshold, hands stuffed in his pockets so he can’t feel them tingle as he approaches. 

Already he can tell something isn’t right. The blinds are closed even though it’s the middle of the day, making slits of light like jail bars shine across the floor. The walls are completely stripped of posters and pictures, but they never stripped away the paint. The blue has faded with years gone by, and everything is a hollow shell of what it used to be. 

Tsukishima steps in. It doesn’t feel like anything special, which annoys him a little. But then again, how could it feel like anything different when the room has changed so much?

It’s a storage room now. Your bed is gone, your bedside table stuck up against the wall. Your antique dresser, the one you were so proud to steal from your sister, stands alone on the far wall, no clothes sticking out. Your closet is open with suitcases crammed inside, the hangers swinging idly and the floorboards creak under his weight. 

It feels colder in here. There’s no peach scented candles, no window open, no nothing. This isn’t yours. This isn’t right. 

It’s blasphemous what they’ve done. Tsukishima is not an irrational, angry person, and yet he has the violent urge to take a metal baseball bat and smash everything in your room. Not your room. 

Tsukishima's trembling fingertips trace over a water raised circle on your bookshelf, a scar to mark your existence. And there, on the side, where you recorded the length of your growing ivy plant, the months going down down down like a timeline until they stop. Until you’re gone with hardly a trace. 

Tsukishima balls his fists. You did leave something behind. He just can’t touch it, can’t see it anywhere else but his mind's eye and he curses because no one can see how you’ve ruined his life and continue to, even in this void you’ve created in your absence. 

He stops trying to control it. The memory swirls over him like a hurricane, pounding against his skull as tears well in his eyes. He falls to his knees to take a breath, then lays on the floor, in the exact spot where your bed used to be; in the middle of the room, parallel to the windows. He can almost feel the Sailor Moon sheets, closing his eyes. His panicked breathing splits into two, and like Athena from Zeus, you’ve sprung from his mind. 

You’re catching your breath. The drawn curtains turn afternoon sunlight into a diffused red glow. It colors Kei’s pale skin and blonde hair a dreamy pink, and you roll onto your naked stomach, legs kicking up playfully. 

Through the haze of warmth and pleasure, Kei cracks open an eye just a little bit to see you gazing at him with a sickly sweet smile. Your index finger traces his collarbone, setting fire to the skin underneath. 

“What’re you doing?” He croaks, and your chuckle sends waves of pleasure to his crotch. You drag your blunt nails across his throat, and he suppresses a hiss. 

“Can’t I touch you?”

“No.”

“Hmm. It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?”

In all the years that came after this, Kei couldn’t figure out why this happened. It felt like—still feels like—a fluke the universe handed out to him. It never happens again and you never talk about it. 

This memory is his most prized possession: he keeps it under lock and key in the back of his mind because the way his palm tenderly connects to your cheek baffles him. His hand slides down, knuckles skimming your jaw in soft strokes, like he’s carving you out of clay. 

“You said—“

“I know what I said.” Your hand catches his wrist, bringing his long, slender digits to your lips. You inspect the cuts and bruises, how they’re bent and mangled from blocking harsh spikes and slamming down equally powerful ones. You kiss them like you could heal them, and Tsukishima wouldn’t put it past you. 

“Did I change your mind?” He has a smile that’s a little too smug. You’re ignoring his face and he feels anxious; he wants your eyes on his so you’ll melt, so he can devour you while you helplessly watch just how you’ll go down. 

That never happens. Not with you. You open your mouth and give one clean suck to his index finger, and Kei inhales through his nose to control the heat pooling to his abdomen. 

You kiss the pad of his finger. “I guess I had second thoughts.”

“Second thoughts?”

“You’re trying to get into Tohoku, right?”

“So are you.”

“Right. If we don’t get in—“

“Don’t jinx it, stupid.”

“—if I don’t get in, I don’t want to feel like I wasted my time.”

His brows furrow. Kei draws up on his side, catching himself with his elbow. His body is thoroughly wrecked from giving you everything, and he shivers upon seeing the damage on your neck. But he pushes aside all thoughts of pleasure and stares down at you. “What are you talking about?”

Your hands drag down his chest, trailing the curves and contours of the muscle he’s built up for three years. His shoulders have broadened out and his waist tapers into a trim V. He is chiseled marble, a statue come to life in your bedroom. If only he were as permanent. 

Kei follows your gaze, reaching down to intertwine your hands. The gesture is obscene, intimate, and reverent all at one. “(Name),” he pleads, and your eyes flicker up to his. 

“You really think you’re going to stay in Miyagi? You, Tsukishima Kei? With the handsome face and the brains and the brawn?” You’re joking, trying to put on a smile but your voice is thick with emotion. You can’t hide, not after what you’ve just done. “You’re going to be, I don’t know, something great, and I’ll be here, like always.” 

(Tsukishima, the one on the cold floor with his eyes closed could laugh. What he wouldn’t give to be here, with you.)

The old him didn’t share that sentiment. “So, you wanted to have sex with me because you didn’t want to miss the opportunity?” 

“You’re missing the point, Kei.”

“Hey now, just because we fucked doesn’t mean you can get familiar.”

You try to pull your hand out of his grip, but his fingers curl, locking you in. He pulls you closer so your bodies are flush, and lays his head next to yours. 

“You act like you’re not more than capable of getting out on your own.”

“It’s easier for you,” you admit, words nothing but a whisper. “You’re so bright, Kei, so talented. I think it would be cruel if you didn’t leave.”

“God you’re so,” he‘s stuttering, trying to keep the awe from your voice. He can’t hide from you, not after what you’ve just said. “You don’t get it, do you? How you’re the only good thing about Taiwa, about fucking Miyagi.”

“Kei,” you whisper, on the verge of tears. “Kei stop.”

“This is the only time I’m going to say something nice about you, so.” He tilts your chin with the hand that’s bigger than your whole head, gentle as a lamb. “I don’t want to be like all the other Karasuno grads, living and dying here.”

“We can’t do anything about it.”

“Like hell we can’t. If either of us get out, if I get out, we’re going together.”

“Ha,” you laugh dryly. It certainly knocks him down a peg to hear you reject his proposition. “Please don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

“Well, you gotta keep up your end of the bargain. Get into Tohoku and we can take it from there. It’ll be you and me.” 

“This doesn’t sound like the Tsukishima I know,” you say coyly, lopsided smirk making him crazy. “What’s got you so sentimental all of a sudden?”

“It could be that there’s someone I don’t mind being sappy for, especially if they’re naked under me.”

“I’m not—“ the words are stolen from you as Kei bruises your lips with a kiss. His hands turn your cheek toward him, and he kisses you into the mattress, all while climbing on top of you. He pulls back with a satisfied smirk, your lips glistening with (his) saliva. 

“You were saying?” 

You shove him and he falls back against your knees. “No, you were saying.”

Kei presses his chest against yours, kissing your neck, your jaw, then your lips in a softer kiss. “We’ll get out of here together. How does that sound?”

You don’t have a hopeful face. Your eyes have closed and you sigh, like you’re looking into the future and seeing Kei’s broken promise play over and over in your head. You two were young, but even you were less optimistic than he was. 

You opened your eyes, letting your face morph into a happiness Kei now realizes is tinged with melancholy. He thinks it’s beautiful, in a tragic sense. Tragedies were timeless classics, like you. 

“It sounds like you should put your money where your mouth is.”

“Do I ever disappoint?” 

This brings out your real smile, beaming at him like the sun and the moon and every star in the galaxy. “Never. Not to me.” 

Tsukishima lays on the cold floor with his hand over his eyes, lungs threatening to pop as he tries to exhale the guilt and heartache. None of the memories of this god forsaken town and this goddamn house hold anything but guilt, nothing but a knife in his stomach; the same one he stabbed into your back the day he signed on for the Saitama Spears and left. 

He used to firmly believe that if you never try at something, it can’t break your heart. He took that attitude to volleyball and wasn’t proven wrong. Tsukishima does not know if it would hurt more if he’d tried with you. It wasn’t like he did it on purpose; he simply forgot. Somewhere in the shuffle, somewhere between keeping his promise and not, it slipped from his hands like a bad block. 

He tries wiping the tears from his eyes. It’s not like thinking about it matters anymore; there’s no differentiation between the memories and the reality, only the same crushing pain. 

And yet, Tsukishima finds himself dissociating into the ceiling. If he stops breathing, he can hear your laughter echo off the walls. Perhaps his ghost and yours can live here forever, like they do in his mind. 

It’s the only way he can keep his promise.

[brittledame]

Pairing: Semi Eita/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, Mildly Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Scent Marking, Possessive Semi, Claiming, Mention of violence/gore, Alternate Universe, Fantasy AU, Wolf!Semi, Witch!Reader

Word Count: 9.1K

Summary: After Goshiki and Ushijima are thrown into an alternate universe after getting hit by a truck, they're thrown into a generation-old prophecy to defeat the Demon King that had been terrorizing the land. Joining the whirl-wind adventure, you face off the feared Wolf at a great disadvantage. Prepared to meet your fate in order to protect your team, you never anticipated him making a move on you and for it to end in you promising yourself to him. 

Notes: Inspired by chapter 24 of Haikyuu-bu!! I started working on this in the middle of the 2nd installment to ‘Semi’s Blow Blow Up’ which I’m hoping to get out before the end of September. Also, I let Semi keep his ears and tail in this, please don’t send me to hell for that. Other than that, please enjoy!!

When Tsutomu and Ushijima ended up on top of a hill surrounded by acres of green rolling-hills, the younger honestly assumed the worst had happened. The bus had hit him and now he was dead in heaven. Of-course Ushijima would be there with him, he’s probably never made a misdeed in his life, meanwhile Tsutomu was slightly shocked he’d end up in heaven after spitefully cutting his older sister’s hair off when she teased his haircut when he was younger.

No, that can’t be right, he can't be in heaven. Everything felt too real. A breeze tousled his hair and he could smell the dirt under his scuffed runners. He couldn’t be dead, meaning that this place wasn’t heaven or purgatory, but someplace else. From the odd-looking trees sporting large purple leaves and expansive Elysian scenery, Tsutomu couldn’t shoot down the absurd idea that he was in an alternate dimension.

Patting himself down, he knew he was physically fine and felt his heart anxiously pounding away inside his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ushijima standing tall, giving the area around them a surveying glance before his olive eyes landed on his shaky form.

“Goshiki, are you alright?” His deep timbre did calm his frayed nerves, it was hard not to trust his dependable senpai.

Nodding his head, Tsutomu responds with number one question of the day: “Ushijima-senpai, where are we?”

He tried to conceal the fear in his tone, but it would seem that he failed miserably as Ushijima places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“That truck must have hit us quite a fair way away.” Ushijima states, looking nowhere near as panicked as one should in their situation.

Goshiki gives him bewildered look, gesturing to the land in front of them.

“You think we would be fine after getting hit by a truck?” Tsutomu didn’t try to hide his hysteria. “No matter what way you paint it, this place doesn’t look like anywhere in Miyagi!”

“But there’s Shirabu.” Ushijima points somewhere over Tsutomu’s shoulder.

Half scared that he’s going to turn around and it’s some eldritch terror standing behind him, he froze in place. Although Tsutomu knew Ushijima would never put him in danger, Ushijima had no sense of danger; case and point the ghost incident. Gathering his scattered courage, he turns around and is dumbfounded to find Shirabu indeed standing before him, albeit he was now dressed in unusual garments.

“Shirabu?” Tsutomu exclaims, half relived that at least someone with a brain not solely filled with volleyball would see the insanity of their situation.

“Shirabu? No, I am not a Shirabu, I am Elf.” Not-Shirabu responds while pulling his hood off to expose comically long ears. Tsutomu could feel his mind take a temporary holiday, leaving him half-cocked and not nearly prepared enough to deal with this shit.

“We’re in an actual alternate universe…”

A short trek later, Tsutomu found himself being hosted by Not-Shirabu, who was scarily similar to Shirabu - right down to his mannerisms. Tsutomu could’ve sworn that every time he asked a question about this world, Not-Shirabu fought down a grimace, but never failed to give him a short response. He was polite but was obvious about his distaste towards Tsutomu’s inherently curious nature.

“Shirabu, everyone will worry if we do not return to school soon.” Ushijima succinctly summarises their situation.

“It’s Elf,” Not-Shirabu says immediately. “You want to return to your world?”

At their nods, Not-Shirabu slumps in his chair with a hefty sigh.

“I’m afraid there’s an issue with that. I would love to get you back home, but an evil Demon King has taken over this land. I’m afraid to say that going home is out of the question.”

Tsutomu felt his heart sink at the words. They couldn’t return home? What were they going to do here for a living? They could farm, but Tsutomu is nowhere near well-read in that field compared to Ushijima. Even in this dire situation, Tsutomu was reluctant to admit defeat.

“A Demon King?” He queried, obviously fishing for information about this Demon King. Maybe there was a way to convince him to let them home?

“Yes.” Elf drily responded.

Tsutomu could feel his eye twitch at the Shirabu-like response. Even in an alternate universe, his senpai was a short and antagonistic towards Tsutomu.

Only when he was prompted by Ushijima’s nod, did he continue.

“He is a malicious being with the sole incentive is to spread misfortune across the land. It started with small mischievous deeds, such as cutting individual’s hair into odd styles.” Elf pauses here to raise a hand to his fringe and Tsutomu had to smother the laugh that could threaten his life. “Now he has moved onto terrorising villages and increasing tax prices to an unbelievable high.”

“That is no way to run a country.” Ushijima hums in disapproval.

Tsutomu clasped his hands over his head, already feeling a headache coming on. So we’re going to completely ignore that Shirabu’s weird ass fringe was the result of some Demon King that has apparently ravaged the land by hiking up tax prices? And why did this all sound like something Tendou-senpai would do? He felt latent hysteria rise to the surface again.

“I’m sorry that he got you too, Goshiki.” Elf says solemnly.

Head snapping up, Tsutomu felt outraged at the comment. He worked really hard for his fringe to be this straight. Tsutomu would swear up until his deathbed that bowl cuts were cool.

“Hey! My fringe is untouched by the Demon King. This was my choice!” Goshiki defended his hairstyle, patting at the dark strands, making sure there wasn’t any odd fly-aways.

“We can’t go home as long as the demon king reigns?” Ushijima interjects, effectively ending the argument before it started. Ushijima was all too used to being the only one to stop arguments between Goshiki and Shirabu, he knew all the warning signs.

“Yes.” Elf says with an apologetic look. “I’m very sorry. If only the summoning of the ‘Otherworldly Hero’ passed on from past generations had succeeded. They are the sole hope we have.”

A silence envelopes the room, heavy and suffocating.

Tsutomu knew that panicking would do nothing but waste valuable energy, but he couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed at the insane situation they found themselves in. A niggling thought heaped more anxiety onto him when it raises a good point. What if they were able to go home, what happens if time passes differently here? A day here may be twelve years back home. What would he do if he went back home and all his friends were old, his parents dead and –

Elf startles Tsutomu out of his downward spiral by suddenly jerking back with a gasp, wide eyes focused on Ushijima’s left hand holding a spoon laden with soup. The sudden motion had caused a cup to fall and clatter loudly against the stone flooring, which went widely ignored as Elf raises a trembling finger pointed at the stoic brunette.

“You’re using the spoon with your left hand. Are you –!” He cuts himself off as he rushes over to Ushijima’s side, not quite believing his own eyes. “The Otherworldly Hero!”

Tsutomu could not point out a time he’s ever heard so much emotion poured into Shirabu’s tone, he was almost swept up into Elf’s zeal before his logic kicked back in.

It was that easy?! Tsutomu internally screamed. This was just getting ridiculous at this point, honestly.

After a singular trial of pulling a sword out of stone and Tsutomu embarrassing himself and losing Elf’s respect, they found themselves starting a quest. The fanboy within him was super excited that he was going on an actual quest, exactly like the ones in his RPG campaigns.

“Remind me why we need this witch again?” Tsutomu questions, much to Elf’s evident annoyance.

“We need her to get through the Mystical Woods. It's prowled by one of the Demon King’s acolytes.” Elf slides his eyes to give Tsutomu a warning look, not wanting to answer anymore questions.

Gulping at the intimidating look, Tsutomu waved away the twenty billion other questions that came to mind as they made their way towards a tall stone tower. Tsutomu wonders what the witch would look like. Would she be someone they know, or someone completely new?

At this point in the trip, he silently begging any listening deities that she’s friendly. Ushijima and Shirabu have never been the best talking companions in his world and this trip has highlighted to Tsutomu how much he’d taken Yamagata’s and Reon’s friendly conversations for granted.

The tower ahead of them slowly grew in size until Tsutomu estimated it stood at least 5 stories tall. Following in Elf’s shadow, they pause a few feet away from the base. Looking at the structure, Tsutomu was quick to notice that there was no door present. Maybe they were on the wrong side of the tower?

He was just about to voice this before Elf cups his mouth and proceeds to yell up at one of the open windows.

“Hey Witch, come down! I found the Otherworldly Hero!” He shouts, uncaring at the ruckus he was making.

Tsutomu winces at the volume, shocked at how loud Elf could get. Absent mindedly, he wonders if the Shirabu in his dimension could get that loud too. Looking back up at the window, the youngest saw a head peak out.

“What?!” A familiar voice yells back down. The head disappears out of sight before any of them could respond.

No even a moment later, a dark door appears on the once-blank wall before them. Opening, the door reveals a figure that Tsutomu never thought he’d see. He should've expected it, this situation was crazy enough as it was.

Walking out of the dark room, you come to stand out in the sunlight, confirming your identity. Tsutomu blushed when he noted your attire. You looked exactly how you did before their run, minus the dark blue dress that hugged your curves and loose hair. Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to himself, he subtly glances to the side to catch Ushijima’s reaction to your appearance.

With his usual neutral expression, he exclaims your name with no more vigour than any other time he’s said it. Tsutomu put too much faith into Ushijima, he should have expected the lack of a reaction as well.

You give Ushijima an odd expression, looking at Elf to explain what was going on.

“Manager-chan?” Goshiki interrupted. Elf shot him a nasty look at the interruption and ended up sighing whilst rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“They've been calling me weird names all afternoon too. Just ignore the short Otherworlder.” Goshiki whines at his harsh words.

You pique an eyebrow at the bowl-cut boy. “So I look like someone you know from your world?”

“Yes,” Ushijima answered monotonously. “You look exactly like our team’s manager.”

You hum as you mull over his words. “Curious. So that would mean you're from a world that is directly parallel to ours, a completely different dimension with shared similarities.” Your tone picked in pace and excitement as you spoke, the end of your sentence becoming a smear to the males around you.

At their collective blank looks you made an odd hand gesture in the air. “Anyway… You found the Hero?” Giving Ushijima a curious look, you completely ignore Tsutomu’s existence.

It kind of hurt for one of his kindest senpai's to outright disregard his presence. Reminding himself of parallel universes, he had to actively tell himself that you weren’t technically you.

Wow, he really hated this alternative universe stuff.

“I’ve been told as such.” Ushijima supplies, not at all weirded out by you invading his personal space to prod at his biceps.

Turning on your heel, you make your way towards Elf and throw a casual arm around his shoulders. Not at all bothered by your antics, Elf stands there as you lean against him. Tsutomu knew in his world that you and Shirabu got along quite well, that must have translated into this universe as well.

“Why are you here instead of saving the lands now that you have the Hero at hand?” Your question is a legitimate one, one that Tsutomu would’ve asked if he wasn’t scared of Shirabu’s infamous back of the knee kicks. If Ushijima was supposedly strong enough to take on the Demon King, surely he'd be able to take on one simple lackey lurking in the woods they needed to cross.

“We’re here to recruit you. You’re the only one I know powerful enough to conceal us to get past the Demon King’s pet monsters.” He patiently explains.

“Aw and here I was thinking it was because you missed me. I missed you, y’know?” You teased. Truly, you did miss Elf and all the shenanigans the two of you would get into, but you would never pass up an opportunity to needle him.

Elf simply rolls his eyes at you and shrugs the arm off of his shoulder.

“I mean it. We need you to get through the Mystical Woods without being detected by Wolf.” You frown at Elf’s serious expression, the reality of the situation dawning upon you.

“You know I’m never going to turn down a quest with you, but his senses are ridiculously enhanced. It’ll take a lot out of me.” Running a hand through your hair, Tsutomu recognised it as your nervous tick. “I won’t be much help during the final battle.”

“Don’t worry about that. You can rely on me.” Ushijima simply states but the effect on you and Elf is immediate.

The Hero’s simple words eviscerated your reservations, the conviction in his tone was all you needed to hear. That paired with the large sacred sword still embedded in stone was all it took to convince you it wasn't a fool's mission.

Agreeing to join their party, you rush to grab your wand and some other resources to assist the party later on in the journey before setting off.

By the time you all stood before the ominous-looking trees of the Mystical Woods, the sun was starting to settle on the horizon, warning you that you had little to no time to make it through before night came along and the true battle began.

“Before we enter, I must tell you all that Wolf’s senses are second to none. He’ll hear a whisper, smell you an acre away, and could destroy you before you could blink.” Your warning only served to scare Goshiki. You rushed to complete your weak pep talk. “But, I’m here so it is very unlikely that he will catch us, much less even be in this neck of the woods.”

Your words did little to soothe the youngest, although he did put a brave face on. You had to stop yourself from cooing at how cute he looked with his chest puffed out and a serious expression adorning his young face.

“Hey, uh, what does this wolf look like? That way if we spot him we can seek some cover.” Goshiki suggests.

Impressed, you gave him an encouraging smile and ignored Elf snorting behind you.

“That’s a brilliant idea, good job Goshiki.” You praised, noticing the way his eyes lit up at it. “Wolf roams around in his human form as far as I’m aware of. He’s taller than Elf but shorter than Hero.”

Elf indignantly huffs at your comment, not all liking your unintentional poke at the sore topic.

“He has pale hair, it almost looks white sometimes. Oh, he also constantly has this really grumpy look on his face.” You continue to list off a series of characteristics that describes Semi to a tee. There was no doubt in Tsutomu’s and Ushijima’s mind about who Wolf was.

“That sounds like Semi.” Goshiki remarked once you finished.

Receiving blank looks from you and Elf, Tsutomu stumbled over his words as he tried to articulate his thoughts.

“Ah, well, the person you just described sounds exactly like my senpai back home called Semi.” Tsutomu let out a small chuckle as he’s hit with a funny nickname for his senpai.

“We’re going to avoid Semi-Wolf so that we can get to the castle, defeat the king and go home, right?” Tsutomu smoothly recovers.

You laugh at the odd nickname Goshiki coined.

“Semi-Wolf you say? I quite like that.” You raise your hand to cover your grin, very amused at how much the ever-serious Wolf would hate it.

Always forced to be the voice of reason, Elf clapped his hands to refocus everyone’s attention.

“We can’t lose focus now. Once we enter these trees we can’t afford to be found by Wolf, even with Witch and Hero on our side, it would be a tiresome battle if he spots us.” His grave tone quickly sobered up the party.

Taking a deep breath, you withdraw your wand, starting to draw out an intricate rune in the air. A familiar tingling sensation overtakes your body as magic begins to flow from the earth up into your fingers and into the wand.

Finishing the last line, a glowing circle with swirling line and sharp strokes stood before you. Fastening the members behind you with a heavy look, you offered them one last chance to back out.

“Are you all ready?”

All three nod back at you, already having steeled themselves whilst you prepared the rune. Turning back to the rune, you finished the casting and walked through it with the three males hot on your tracks. It evaporated as soon as you stepped through it, effectively masking your scents and dampening all sounds. Even Ushijima could sense the tangible weight of the magic casted over his body.

The woods were exactly as you remembered it from when you were a child and wasn’t claimed by the fearsome Wolf. The trees looked the same with rough and peeling bark, along with the ground looking as damp and spongy as the days you ran through it barefooted and free-spirited.

While you didn’t explicitly state that they couldn’t talk, you were secretly glad that they didn’t. It would’ve made your life much more difficult to funnel more energy into the rune to mask them, it was already bad enough that your couldn't completely conceal everyone. Your combined efforts of creeping between the threes on  light feet was counteracted by Ushijima nicking every second tree with the sword's sharp blade, creating a trail of bark.

Eyes and ears stayed vigilant even as you noticed a landmark for the half-way point through the forest. You paused at the large outcropping of rocks resembling a sleeping lady and mouth at them that it you were half-way there. Elf and Goshiki looked relieved whilst Ushijima sported the same bland look.

You were tempted to suggest a short rest before continuing through the woods, where Semi-Wolf commonly prowled. The words died on your tongue as you noticed an abnormally thick fog rapidly approach your group. Not even a blink later and the fog had consumed all visibility below the waist.

You’ve spent your whole life surrounded by magic, you knew that this fog came from an unnatural origin. You had hoped that the fog would stay at that height but those were quickly dashed when you saw it slowly creep up your body. It wouldn’t be long before your entire vision was obscured.

This was not good, not good at all.

Whirling around, you went to grab at your team’s clothing to anchor them to you. As your hands cut throw empty air, your fear doubled. You doubted that they abandoned you, it was likely the doing of the magical woods. While you loved to experiment and witness all types of magic, always keen to expand your knowledge, the magic in these woods never failed to unnerve you even as a young child.

Not only was there a predator out here, the woods were also working against you.

Considering your options, you concluded that you were rapidly running out of choices.

Calling out their names was objectively a stupid choice, but it was the best thing you could do with breaking the fragile magic coating them. It was almost a form a self-sacrifice. If you drew enough attention to yourself, they would hopefully find their way to you - or at least something would.

A few tense moments go by, each call answered with dead silence. Not even the insects and birds dared to make a sound.

Casting a tracking spell was completely off the table. Not only was the fog thick enough that you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, it would shatter the meagre concealing magic coating them. At least it was something to protect them, it was much better then leaving them completely defenceless.

“Shit.” You hissed. Worriedly, you eye the magical fog that was becoming more oppressive, feeling like a physical weight pressing down on you.

“I didn’t know good witches like yourself cursed. So unladylike.” A deep rumbling voice sounded right next to your ear. It was close enough to for warm breath to caress your cold skin. Your skin immediately breaks into goose bumps.

Freezing, your mind descends into chaos as it crowds with worrying thoughts. The most prominent one pointed out the fact that Wolf was able to get dangerously close to you without your notice, magical fog aside. There was no doubt about who he was, there was no other that claimed the woods like he has.

You whirl around, trying to find the voice’s owner, full well knowing of whom you were seeking out. Fear coiled inside of your gut, trying it’s hardest to paralyse your muscles and haze your mind over in fear at the thought of facing Wolf alone at a disadvantage.

“You speak as if you’re a gentleman yourself, Semi-Wolf. You don’t have much room to condone my language when you have the mouth of a foul-tempered troll.” You rebuked, falsifying the confidence in your tone. Showing an ounce of trepidation in front of him would be deadly.

Eyes frantically flitting about, attempting to catch a glimpse of a shadow or anything that would reveal his whereabouts. Your eyes were met with nothing but swirling white, not a single sign as to where he could be. This whole situation had you on edge.

He chuckles at your weak jab. The sound reverberated off of the trees and felt like it came from all around you, only serving to further confuse you about his whereabouts.

While every drop of mana was precious, you thought it prudent to at least being able to see your enemy. It should at least put you on equal footing with him. Flicking your wand, you cast a spell to temporarily filter out the fog around you, creating a clear bubble around you and the menacing man before you.

Even though he looked just as you had described to your otherworldly companions, viewing Wolf not even two meters away from one’s self was always a different experience. The first feature that caught your attention was his dark eyes, iris colour similar to richly stained wood, secondly was his elongated nails coming to a fatal point. Claws sharp enough to shear through flesh with ease were paired with pointed canines exposed by his predatory smile.

Your heart speeds up as you recognised how doomed you were, armed only with your wand, half of your mana and a pouch of useless herbs. The fluffy white dark-tipped ears sitting atop his head flick at the thundering sound of your palpable fear. Wolf's smile widened at that, tail swishing side-to-side in glee. This was going to be all too easy for him.

“Found you Semi-Wolf” Your white-knuckled grip around your wand belied your light tone.

“Don’t call me that.” He growls out, eyes narrowing at you. He was not impressed at your impertinence.

You would normally roll your eyes at the needless display of anger, but you couldn’t afford to take your eyes off of his intimidating figure slowly walking around you.

“What are you doing in my territory,” he continues. You knew he didn't care about your answer, it was more so to draw this out.

Fine, you’d bite.

“We’re on a quest, so please kindly don’t interfere.” He pauses to the left of you, now not even an arms-length away from you. Your body instinctively tenses at this, acutely aware that he could take you out faster than you could cast at this distance.

“I can’t let my reputation suffer just because you asked politely to cross through. There’s consequences to encroaching my land without permission.” His tone darkens at the end of his sentence, acting as if you personally offended him by doing so.

You knew he wouldn’t let you go so easily but a girl could always dream, right?

Lowering your centre of gravity, you subtly shift your body into a fighting stance and forcibly relax your wrist. A stiff wrist would hinder casting and it would frankly be embarrassing to be taken down so quickly, regardless of Wolf being the second toughest opponent controlled by the Demon King.

His keen eyes catch onto your slight movements and he moves in kind. It appears that you’re confident enough to take him on directly off the bat and not even attempt to run away. Whether this choice was misguided or made by underestimating him, Wolf was going to make you rued the day you thought you stood a chance against him.

Not wanting to wait for him to make the first move, you immediately cast a paralysing spell. The spell missed widely as he simultaneously lunged towards you at that very moment. This back and forth of casting and dodging goes on for a while and it wasn't long before you could physically feel your mana decrease and muscles grow tired. Maybe locking yourself in a tower for months on end didn’t have the best effect on your stamina.

Knowing you didn’t have a chance in hell against him while half-powered thanks to the prior masking spell, you could do nothing but futilely dodge him and cast the occasional fire ball his way. In the back of your mind, you spared a thought to the rest of the party and prayed to the deities that they were making their way out of the woods.

An exposed root caught your foot as you danced out of reach from a swipe of his deadly claws. Time seemed to slow down as your world tilted and the ground rose up to catch your body. Catching yourself on unsteady hands, you hiss as the rough ground scrapes your palms and knees enough to bleed.

Seizing the win, Wolf walks over to your stationary form, savouring the smell of your blood on the air. It smelt sweet, Wolf licked his lips and nudged you onto your back with his foot. He briefly wondered if you would taste just as sweet. You had put up a good fight and Wolf always loved a good challenge.

Semi-Wolf cages your body with his own, his large hands trapping yours above your head, with his legs pinning yours down. At this point, you had resigned yourself to your fate. You never really thought that you’d die like this, a hot guy murdering you was always a bonus you supposed.

Bringing his face towards yours, your breath falters when his lips floats above yours. Eyes wide, you noticed the hunger in his dark eyes, a hunger that you knew yourself all too intimately. Seeing his lips tilt into a dangerous smirk, your eyes lock onto them much to Wolf’s evident amusement. He uses the opportunity of your diverted attention to closely check you out, his eyes sweeping down your form.

He vastly appreciates the simple dark gown you wore. The dress exposed enough cleavage without becoming a disaster and had a leg slit that exposed a fair amount of soft-looking skin. Wetting his lips at the delicious sight you made underneath him, Wolf knows his evaluating looks were far from one sided, he could feel your gaze burn into his skin in kind.

Making eye contact with you, he decided he was going to indulge himself just this once. After weeks of dealing with Demon King’s shenanigans and then having to come back and patrol the woods with nothing in terms of companionship, he was admittedly lonely. He also harboured a lot of frustration and pent-up sexual desires and then there you were, waltzing on in with a form-fitting dress and smelling of ripened strawberries.

Wolf leans down and brings his mouth to your neck. All that filled your mind was the different but all equally as gruesome ideas of how he could kill you in this position. Him tearing out your throat was at the forefront of your mind.

Wolf licks a hot stripe up your throat, tasting your rabbit-like heartbeat. It was almost cute how much he scared you. He was almost tempted to assure you he can be gentle if he’s in the mood for it. From how you reacted to his each and every touch, he knew his self-restraint would truly be tested tonight. He did so love a sensitive lover.

“What are you going to do to me?” Your voice shakes and serves to further spur him on. Temptingly, he brushes his lips against yours, as light as a feather and no where near the pressure you now craved.

This close up you could see the flecks of near obsidian accentuating his mahogany brown irises that swirled with unspoken promises of what he was planning to do to you tonight. He doesn’t answer, choosing to stare instead.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Pushing him probably wasn’t the smartest decision. Then again, you never would have gotten into adventuring if you had all your wits about you.

Again, silence meets your ears as he rolls his eyes at you in response, much to your shock. The action was unexpected, completely out of character for him, judging from the gossip you’ve overheard from the townspeople.

“I’ve got a much better use for that cute little mouth of yours then asking pointless questions.” He purrs into your ear.

You very nearly swallowed your tongue, eyes wide in disbelief. Your mind was still spinning at the sudden turn the night has taken. You were ready to fight for your life, not get pinned down and get propositioned. His actions spoke leagues, he didn’t leave any room for misinterpretation of what he desired from you. As much as that thought should’ve scared you, a thrill of anticipation sparked down your spine.

Noticing your receptiveness, Wolf planned to test how far he could push you before you pulled back. Testing the waters, he bridges the short gap between your mouths and kisses you. To his amusement, you froze for half a breath before reciprocating, soft lips moving skillfully against his.

Deepening the kiss, he doesn’t wait for permission to lick into your mouth, earning him a gasp. You never really spared any thought to him before this day other than reluctant acknowledgement of his strength, that even armed with an arsenal of spells you’d still struggle to defeat him. Never in a hundred years would you think that he was a good kisser and yet here he was doing his best to thoroughly prove you wrong.

Warmth spread through your body as you tried to pay him in kind, but he was intent on dominating the kiss in every way. Your mind wondered over the thought of him dominating you in another way and your heart gave a concerning lurch inside our chest.

Semi-Wolf ends up breaking the kiss to chuckle down at you after a moan escaped. Embarrassed flush tinging your cheeks pink, you use the break to catch the breath he stole from your lungs.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Semi-Wolf.” You whisper against his lips.

“How much more direct do I have to be with you, little witch? Do you want me to say that I want to fuck that cheeky mouth of yours until you cry?” Heart palpitating, your eyes zero in on him wetting his lips, wondering what else his tongue could do. “Or maybe that I’m horny enough to fuck you regardless of your incessant questioning.”

This time you shiver at the way his deep voice seemed elicit lust to cloud your mind. Horny yourself from countless days of self-imposed isolation in your pursuit of knowledge after your last disastrous quest with Elf, you weren’t exactly in the right mind-frame to deny him.

At the same time though, who said you would make it easy for him?

“Even the big bad Wolf gets lonely guarding the creepy woods.” You goad him, eager to get a rise from him.

Rising to the obvious bait, his grip tighten around your wrists enough to hurt. Meeting his scowl with a jovial expression, you inwardly crowed at how easy it was to rile him up.

“You’d be so much cuter if you didn’t open your mouth. Don’t worry, I’ll fix that for you.” He promises darkly. His thumb presses into your bottom lip and urges you to open your mouth.

You do deny yourself the desire to bite down on his thumb, not wanting to truly make him mad. You just wanted him mad enough to take you without holding back.

Releasing your other wrist, he makes quick work of undoing his pants. Enjoying the view, your tongue licked his thumb, drawing his attention for all of a second before he presses his thumb on top of your tongue. You whine around the intrusion, earning an unimpressed look from him as he reveals his sizable length.

He nearly laughs when he hear you audibly gulp as he shucks down his pants one-handed. His slowly filling dick swelled even more at your groan from just witnessing his length. Even at half-mast he was long and girthy enough for you to wonder if he was going to fit in you.

Not liking the way your attention drifted inwards, Wolf gripped himself and gave a few tugs. To both your fascination and horror, you watched as his cock was stroked into full hardness. At this, you swore to yourself to make it fit, no matter what. There was no way you were going to pass up this once in a life-time opportunity.

Wolf considers the position you were both in and decided that it wouldn’t do. Releasing his cock and removing his thumb from your mouth, he grabs you by the shoulders and forcibly moves you into a new position. You relished the way he manhandled you, you elect to make it easy on him and be pliable for him.

Pushing a hand through his wild hair, he looks over at your new placement. Dress strewn around your legs, the side slit now exposing an indecent amount of flesh as you laid out beside him. Once again grasping your shoulder, he moves your upper body to lean over his spread legs, bringing your face towards his rigid length.

You didn’t fight him as he brought your mouth towards his cock, nor did you wait for permission to start. Wrapping your mouth around the leaking tip, you gave a slight suck before trying to take more of him in all while swirling your tongue around him. His hand moves up into your hair as you slowly make your way down his shaft, cute little mouth already stretched wide.

About half-way down your jaw was starting to get sore from how wide you had to keep your mouth from grazing your teeth harshly against him. You weren’t ready to admit defeat yet, you still hadn’t even taken him fully yet. Throwing caution to the wind, you decide to take the rest of his cock in all the way, sore throat be damned. You gagged at the feeling of him being shoved down your throat, mouth impossibly full as his hips jolt up and keep himself in as you started to pull back.

A loud groan rumbles through the air, rewarding your efforts. His fingers tighten in your hair, locking your head in place. You fight against his grip and win, coming up with a gasp and a thick strand of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. Giving him a withering glare, you lick up his shaft once, twice, before engulfing him yet again. This was for your benefit, hearing him growl as you sucked him off was just a benefit.

He watched on with delight as you forced yourself to choke on his cock, evidently he was too large for you to handle. Not wanting you to do all the work, he started to slowly roll his hips up and took control of your pace by moving you up and down his member by his grip on your hair.

Unable to take back control, you could do nothing but to let him guide you as he fucks into your mouth. This turned you on incredibly, feeling yourself become wet as he pants and groans into the still air. Distantly, you could hear his tail thump against the ground.

While fucking your willing mouth, he’s struck with a brilliant idea. Wrapping a hand around your throat, he’s now able to feel himself being deepthroated. A rush of blood left him light-headed, absolutely loving the fact that he can feel himself when he shoves his cock even further down your throat, not caring that at how you dug your nails into his hips. Your whines about him taking over only served to arouse him further, feeling the vibrations travel along his length.

He feels himself come close as you swallow around him, tongue rubbing sinuously against all the right spots. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he peaked. While he did have a fast recovery time, he didn’t want to waste a moment of not being buried inside of you. Already the smell your arousal perfumed the air, causing his dick to jump in your mouth at the sudden influx of blood rushing southward. The need to be inside of you trumped the joy he felt from you sucking him off.

Tearing you off of his dick with a slick'pop', you were completely blindsided as he throws you against the ground. His hand grasped your thigh, drawing it up as his other shears the thin fabric of your dress off. Now sitting above mid-thigh, you silently despaired about the destruction of your favourite dress. Uncaring, Wolf impatiently batted the rest of the flowy fabric out of his way, not sparing you a second look at you as he shreds your panties and runs a knuckle down your wet folds.

“I’ve barely touched you and yet you’re this wet,” he muses.

Careful of his nails, he gathers up your liquid arousal on his finger and brings it up to his mouth, tasting you. You clench down on nothing as he closes his eyes to savour your taste with a moan. If he drew this out any longer, you were going to have a spontaneous heart attack.

Squirming under him, you made impatient sound. It didn’t go ignored, grinning down at you, he brings bringing his finger back down to teasingly caress your folds, touches much too light for your taste.

“Aren’t you an impatient little thing,” Semi-Wolf drawled as brushes a knuckle against your hole, pausing over it and slightly dipping in.

A frustrate groan left your lips, tilting your hips up to chase his teasing strokes.

“Please.” You begged as he started again with the feather-light strokes.

Normally you would rather retch than beg for cock, However there was always an exception. That exception being Semi-Wolf's cock. It appeared to be the correct thing to do as his eyes flashed with something sinful, a wild look on his face.

“Since you asked so nicely…” He moves down your body, coming to a stop at the apex of your thighs.

Face so close to your core, his mouth started salivating from how good you smelt. Blowing onto your pussy, he elicits a cute squeal and ended up having to pin your legs down to keep you from kneeing him in the head.

He delivers a long lick between your wet folds and swallows your taste as he prods at your entrance. Judging he had enough fun, he delved straight in. Clawing at the soft ground under you, your chest heaved as his tongue thrus in, swirled around, rubbed against your walls and pulled out. It wasn't long before he had you incoherently begging for something, anything, yet he continued in this fashion until he had your hands tugging at his hair, careful of his furry ears, and writhing on his tongue.

Eating you out like a man starved, he didn’t stop until he felt your thighs tense around his head, signalling how close he brought you with just his tongue. He’d like to think that he wasn’t a cruel man but the nasty look you gave when he pulled away had him second guessing himself.

You were more than ready at this point. Ready to start cursing at him if he didn’t fuck you right now, you opened you mouth for him beat you to the chase. Heaving himself upwards, he presses his chest against yours, inadvertently bringing his hips close enough for his dick to slap against your drenched folds.

Gripping himself, he wordlessly slicks up his length by rubbing it through your juices. Lining up with you entrance, he barely presses in and your hands fly up to dig into his arms. Not minding the bite of pain, Wolf didn’t stop you from digging in your nails as he slowly slid in.

Reminding yourself to breath, you took shallow breaths and forcibly relaxed your muscles to help take him in, ignoring the sharp sting of pain that paired with his girth.

Shoving his engorged cock into your wet hole, he didn’t hesitate to slide down to the root regardless of how tight you were. Tears rise to your eyes unbidden as he pushes his way into you, feeling like his cock alone could split you in half. Muttering a half-assed incantation under your breath, you banished the edge of pain away, unmasking the pleasure at being so completely filled.

His thick cock that filled every space inside of you so well, that you started to believe he was made for you. The same thought went through his mind as he begins to mindlessly pound away into you, loving the way your wet hole takes him so well and tightens perfectly around him every time.

The angle he pummelled into at had you seeing stars. You raise your hips to meet his a few times before he grabs the back of your right knee with one hand, pinning your leg up against your chest. A wrecked moan rattles you as the pose opens you up more, changing the angle and allowing him to hit even deeper inside of you, now experiencing fireworks.

“You like that, huh?” He growls roughly.

You couldn’t spare the breath to answer him back with him fucking the life out of you, instead you nodded helplessly.

A pleased noise rumbled through his chest. You were such a supple little thing, taking every inch of him like you needed it, no matter the pain it initially caused you. Such things stroked his ego, paired with the wrecked expression on your face and the fluttering of your walls around his cock, he was intrigued by you. Being impressed and interested in someone with his possessive nature was never a good combination, and  he couldn’t stop himself from becoming enamoured with you while fucking you into the ground.

He litters your neck and chest with kisses, bruises, and bites that you knew would take a while to heal and vanish. The bastard was infamously territorial, you should’ve known that it would also translate into sex as well. Having half the mind to slap him for marking up, you couldn’t deny the way your heart leaped and pussy clenched around him with every rough suck he delivered to your soft skin.

He couldn’t let you go now he’s had a taste of you. He knew you would be perfect in tempering him, weathering his moods and give yourself fully to him like were right now. You already proved yourself worthy by not backing down or running away. Pupils blown wide, possessive thoughts consume his mind, devising different ways he could make you his. From the way you thrashed under him, shaky moans joining the symphony of your bodies colliding together, he conjured a way he could make you his.

Feeling him pull out was nothing of concern to your bliss-filled mind. It was when he didn’t slide back in that raised alarm. Opening your eyes, you blinked away tears from your sight to make out his proud-looking expression. Whining, you raise your hips up to force his tip to slide in further. Semi-Wolf denies you this by pulling his hips back further, removing his cock all together.

“Do you want me to continue fucking your greedy hole?” He says, eyes piercing through your soul.

Showing your frustration, you glare up at him and dig your nails into his arm, making him wince at the strong grip.

“Yes.” You hissed through clenched teeth.

He considers your answer for a short moment before moving his dick again. This time though, he merely sits it between your slick folds and rolls his hips. The position was perfect for his cock to graze against your clit, a moan slipped out before you could suppress it.

“What would you do for it?” He questions, rolling his hips again, putting more force behind it this time.

Eyes rolling into the back of your head, the constant stream of stimuli from him rubbing against your sensitive bundle was overwhelming. Seeing that you weren’t listening to him, he stopped his motions and watched as frustrated tears gather in your eyes as he ripped away your building orgasm.

“I said, what will you do for it?” He leans down to your ear, teeth gently tugging at your earlobe.

Existence now solely staked on you reaching your peak, the words rushed out of you without a second thought.

“Anything.”

He smiles at that, a shudder going through your body at the beautiful sight. He flashes his canines at you, happy that you wouldn’t need any convincing.

“I was hoping you would say that.” He presses your mouths together in a relatively chaste kiss. Confused, you kissed him back with vigour and chased his lips when he drew back. “How about becoming mine?”

A flash of heat sears through your body at his question. Mind going in a hundred different directions, it gets thrown around into different scenarios. First you were making out, fucking and now he was asking you to be his? You literally just met the guy. While yes sex with him so far has been immaculate, you couldn’t just swear yourself to him at the drop of hat.

All these thoughts should’ve been enough to deter you, to encourage you to finish yourself off and walk away. Instead, the horny part of you overrode all common sense. A strong, attractive partner by your side with a drool-worthy dick? You didn't need anything more.

Hands cupping his cheeks, you graze your thumb over his bottom lip and pull him closer.

“Yes. Now fuck me before I finish myself off.” His eyes flash at your threat, promising you hell for that.

Sealing your fate, you fasten your mouth over his and slip your tongue into his mouth as he grabs himself and lines up with your entrance and thrusts back in like he never stopped.

Pace faster than before, you arched you back as his cock presses into you, feeling impossibly deep. Unforgiving now in his thrusts, he didn’t hesitate to make himself a place inside of you, needing you to feel him even when he was finished.

It felt like your veins were filled with molten magma as he repeatedly hit all your sweet spots without even trying. All of your arousal and pleasure amassed into a tightly coiled ball that sat low in your gut and grew with every growl and thrust he gave. This time you protected it with all your might, you’d most definitely curse him if he pulled the same stunt twice.

Wolf buried his head into the crook of your neck, panting into your skin as he pistons himself in and out of you, chasing his own orgasm to no end in sight. Scraping his canines along the column of your throat, you shudder around his cock and tantalisingly squeeze him. Rewarding how sensitive you were, he attaches his mouth to you and buries his fangs into your flesh.

It felt like a supernova went off of inside of you the very moment his teeth pierced your flesh, flinging your head back fast enough that you almost knock yourself out as Wolf fucks you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

His hips don’t falter their pistoning as you tighten up immensely, feeling like a second skin from the way you gripped at him. Blood filling his mouth, he greedily swallowed every drop of the sweet substance, not at all surprised that it tasted just as sweet as the strawberries you smelt like.

With one last thrust, he pulls out and gives himself three rough tugs before he finally spilled all over your thighs. He very nearly purrs at how he solidified his claim over you, his scent seeping into your skin strong enough for any non-human person with a decent nose would know exactly who you belonged to.

“Will you grant us passage through your woods now?” You asked, sarcastic words shattering the silent atmosphere that enveloped your bodies as you both recovered.

“Maybe. Depends what you’re scheming.” He glances over at you from the corner of his eye, not bothering to turn over.

“We’re going to take down the Demon King.” Semi-Wolf chokes on mid-air and whirls around to face you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Are you serious? If you had started with that, I would’ve walked you guys through and joined the fight.” You bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing. This whole time Semi-Wolf wasn’t the dangerous servant of evil you had him pegged for, instead he was begrudgingly guarding these woods. He must being doing it for something, albeit you didn't know what for.

“What did he do to warrant your anger at him.” You were blatantly curious. It wasn’t often that you were wrong in how you perceived someone, plus it was interesting to catch a glimpse into the life of someone who was close to the maleficent Demon King.

“He said my wardrobe was hideous.” Wolf grumbles under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what? I couldn’t hear you.” You grin at him while cupping your ear and leaning in close. You had heard him perfectly fine, it was just fun to see this side of him.

Teasing him was much too fun, you were already getting comfortable around him. Who could’ve guessed he would be all soft on the inside? Elf was going to get a kick out hearing that. Whether he’ll believe you or not is entirely another story.

Annoyed, Wolf bats you away as you laughed at the pick blush betraying his stern look.

“Doesn’t matter. There’s no way you could lose with me helping.” A different, more gentle sort of warmth fills you at his claim, no matter how self-assured it may come across to some.

No longer wishing to antagonise him further, you simply hum in response. Not giving it a second thought, you slip your hand into his.

“Ignoring the fact that you destroyed my favourite dress,” Wolf had the common decency to look ashamed, withering under your harsh glare. “Were you serious when you asked –”

“Yes, I was serious.” He cuts you off. A nervous look replaces his serious one, scratching at the back of his head as he contemplated his next words. “Look, it wasn’t a smart move to do that to you in the middle of… yeah. I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of you being someone else's. It's weird how connected I felt with you in that moment."

Looking away from the tree he was studying to avoid your gaze he was met with your stunned face painted a soft pink.

“You’re an idiot.” You say bluntly. Okay, he was definitely not the big monster you were led to believe. You almost felt like a fool for being so scared of him at the start.

“Hey!” He indignantly shouts, squeezing your hand as punishment for your insult.

“I’m joking, I swear it. It was a dick move but I forgive you.” Suddenly feeling shy, you look away from his intense eyes, not liking the way it felt like he could read your very soul. If Elf were here he’d probably scoff at you being demure after -

“Crap, my party! They probably think I’m dead.” You hurriedly get up and brush off the debris from your now short dress. A slight breeze picked up, causing you to shiver at the weird sensation of it caressing your bare legs and reminding you of the cum drying uncomfortably on your skin.

Ripping a piece of your sleeve off, you make quick work of cleaning yourself off as Wolf tugs on his pants. Seeing the way he eyes your legs, you narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head when he feigns an innocent look.

Giving the small glade one last look over, you both set off into the now clear woods. It took what seemed like a short eternity before you broke the tree line of the other side. On the other side, you find a pacing Goshiki, a bored-looking Elf and a peacefully dozing Ushijima.

Looking over at your sudden appearance, it took one sweep of Elf’s perceptive eyes to know what exactly had went down during your disappearance. You blush as he raises an unimpressed brow at you, ignoring Semi-Wolf’s presence by your side out of pure spite.

It took a bit to convince them that he was here to help and help he did. Armed with the scarily one-minded Hero and one pissed of Semi-Wolf, the crimson-haired Demon King didn’t stand a chance against them.

[anachronisims]

New posts resume tomorrow, so refresh on all your favorite cave-dwellers’ plotlines in the ultimate tldr catch up post!

When the last snows melted and it was safe to travel again, six couples set off in search of a perfect place to found a settlement of their own.  They could not believe their luck when they stepped over a the crest of a hillock and saw before them the lush, rich river valley upon which they would soon bestow the name “Meraki.”

After passing a large meadow with wild berries and evidence of recent animal activity, when the group found six caves at the foot of the next hillock, they knew this was their place.  They spent the next few weeks chopping down trees, settling into their new cave homes, and working together to create some common amenities at the Fishin’ Hole.  Then, their new lives began in earnest...

Tammuz:  “Howdy, neighbor!  How goes it today?”

Kimba:  “Oh, you know, the usual.  Working in the garden, trying to pull forth some food from this sparse and spotty terrain.  We’re going to need to start thinking about storing food away for the winter if we’re all going to stay healthy and strong.”

Tammuz:  “Huh.  Yeah, I guess summer probably is ending any day now…”

Lehabim:  “Yeah, I’ve got this whole five-year plan for expansion.  We fill out the area here around the Fishin’ Hole with some huts, get ourselves out of these caves and everything, then start spreading out towards that meadow we passed when we came in?  There will be plenty of space for the next generation and any newcomers we can attract.  Which we will, because Pallu and Junia are going to spread our reputation as a strong, prosperous place to settle far and wide!  It’s as easy as child’s play, when you think about it!”

Lehabim:  “Hey, so, you’re trying to be like, a shaman now, right? Like, tell us all this mystical shit from up in the stars and whatnot?”

Noel:  “Yeah, I mean, a little bit of what’s in the stars, a little bit of what’s in the trees, like that sacred bloodleaf tree there on the island in the middle of the Fishin’ Hole.  There’s a lot of ideas out there about why this is all happening, where Meraki and the rest of the world came from and who moved mountains and dug rivers and why we walk and talk and do what we do all day long.  I just love talking about this stuff, I could go on and on all day!  ALL DAY!”

Lehabim:  “If you do, you know, get in touch with the spirit world, you think you could ask them if they know how to make this bread stuff? That guy Pallu has been talking about it ever since we got here, it’s like he’s absolutely obsessed with bread. I think half the reason he’s trying to become a trader is so he has an excuse to run away from home and look for this mythical village where they supposedly make it. It’s supposed to be warm and filling and kind of soft but also solid enough to hold other food in it?”

Noel:  “Oh my stars, that’s absolutely THE most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!!” Lehabim:  “I know, right?!  But. Seriously, though, if you get in touch with the spirits, ask them for me. I’d love to beat Pallu to it… if, you know, it turns out it’s real.”

Nadii’ya:  “Good morning, Kimba!” Kimba:  “Hallooo, Nadii’ya! Sleep well?” Nadii’ya:  “Honestly? I’ve been better.  Maybe it was something I ate?  I threw up this morning.  Got any ideas?”

Kimba:  “Oh, well, it definitely might have been something you ate, but that’s not the only explanation.  You might have… you might be pregnant, new friend!  The best medical science available today says that it happened because you WooHooed. You did WooHoo, right?”

Nadii’ya:  “Uh, yeah, of course.”

Pallu:  “Did Stachia tell you her idea about giving special medals for acts of val -”

Nadii’ya:  “Let me stop you right there.  The proper reward for someone who, say, slays a boar that has roamed into the village, is to let them keep the carcass.  They risk getting gored to death to protect everyone, and then what? The village splits up the boar and hands the hero a shiny rock for their good deed?  No way.  The one who saves the village should be rewarded with the boar, they and their family should get to feast!  Why is this so difficult to comprehend?”

Pallu:  “Well, but, I mean, that’s what the boar-slayer signed up for. Protecting everyone, not feasting on a boar.  When they do the job, why should not everyone share in the feast?  Isn’t that how a community works?” Nadii’ya:  “But I could have hypothetically died!!!!!”

Kimba:  “I can see it both ways. On the one hand, you, as the warrior, are risking certain death for the benefit of the entire community, and as such, you feel like the reward should be equal to that risk.  On the other hand, Death is all around us, all the time, and we pretty much are all subject to certain death with every step we take.  We made a community to ease the burden of living with this knowledge, to share our many burdens and attempt to ward off Death as best we can.  Life is short, and why should we not all share its bounties as fully and fairly as we share our burdens?”

Nadii’ya:  “…Kimba, you’re not going to die from kissing a boo-boo. Some of us are sharing the burden of death a little more than others.”

Tammuz: “So, you’re a carpenter, eh? That means you work with… wood?”

Gandu: “That’s me, the wood master of Meraki! What can I do you for?” Junia: ::loud eyeroll::

Gandu: “So, you know my partner, Junia -” Junia: “Hi!” Gandu: “-she’s going to work on finding this village that makes this amazing drink out of wheat that makes you feel like the king of the world and makes everybody friendly.  Isn’t she great?”

Rubati:  “The reason we must light fires every single night is to protect us from dangerous animals, and also, from the spirits of dangerous animals, which can cause us even more harm!  There’s a wolf-like beast with extra scary horns that likes to terrorize Sims at night and disturb their sleep, but it’s completely terrified of fire!  Isn’t that great?”

Pallu:  “I cannot wait until I know how to make bread, holy ogres.  Mushrooms are just pretentious dirt.”

Stachia:  “Can I just say, I’m so so so so glad we all found each other and became best friends?  For months, the only Sim I had to talk to was Pallu, and, creator knows I love him, but he can be such a bore sometimes.  Can you imagine?  Endlessly traipsing through snow and forests, crossing rivers and mountains, and just ‘bread bread makeouts bread woohoo bread bread bread,’ constantly.  At least now that we’ve established a home, he can leave and go look for it and I can have some peace and girl talk!”

Saphir:  “Hey, love, guess what!”

Lehabim:  “You want to make out with me?”

Saphir:  “Well, yes, but also, Stachia asked me to be in the hunting party she’s putting together.  We’re going to start making trips to the meadow and bring back loads of food for the whole village to share.  Isn’t that a great idea?”

Lehabim:  “Sure… kinda wish I’d had it, to be honest.”

Tobiah:  “Hey!!!  Hey everybody!!  Look what I caught!!” Nadii’ya:  “I curse this pole to the depths of this Fishin’ Hole for ever and all time, may it never see the light of day or feel the breath of a cool breeze or do anything but rot into nothingness in the mud and the muck amongst the fish it so thoroughly refused to catch.”

Lehabim:  “Do you think I should make a pact with a demon to consolidate power?” Saphir:  ::record scratch::

Tobiah:  “Wait a second.  Special wheat drink.  Beer?  Are you talking about beer?”

Pallu:   “Are… ‘beer’?  Are you saying you know how to make the special wheat drink?”

Tobiah:  “I mean, more or less.  We had wheat fields all around our homeland, and you basically just take some wheat and seal it in a jug with some water and let it sit for a while and then you have beer.  It’s really not that complicated.  Anyone can do it in their own cave.  And the longer you forget about it, the better it ends up being!  It’s kind of perfect for me, lol”

Pallu:  “And this information has just been inside your head this whole time?”

Tobiah:  “I suppose so.”

Pallu:  “Did y’all make bread back there, too?”

Tobiah:  “No, no no no.”  

Tobiah:

Tobiah:  “But we did hear rumors of a village that did.  We were planning a raid on it right before Nadii’ya and I left, actually.”

Pallu:  “Did… did you find out where it was?”

Tobiah:  “Of course.  I was a Raiding Party Commander back home.  It’s actually not too far from here, now that I think about it.  Want me to give you directions?”

Rubati:   “WooHoo is weird, right?  Like, so strange how we get in the bed and you put your censored bits with my censored bits!  Is it weird, or is it just me?”

Noel: “So, like, WooHoo, amirite???”

Tobiah:  “Everybody, look how pretty!”

Gandu:  “Not really the most interesting thing going on at the Fishin’ Hole right now, bud…”

Tobiah:  “I think it’s just a little bit rude of Saphir to proposition Noel right there in front Kimba.  I mean she’s literally right there.”  

Junia:  “Why would that be rude?  Noel and Kimba both know that their partnership isn’t based on exclusively WooHooing each other.”

Tobiah:  “Sure, Nadii’ya and I feel the same way.  But that still doesn’t mean I’d want to SEE it happening, right in front of me!  Saphir’s not being brave, she’s being brazen!”

Junia:  “Hold on, how is it all Saphir’s fault?  It takes two to woo, boo.  If Saphir’s being ‘brazen,’ Noel’s being just as bad.”

Tobiah:  “Everyone expects it of Noel, but Saphir should know better!”

Junia:  “Do you hear yourself?  Of course we expect it of Noel - so does Kimba, you idiot!  She knew he was a major horndog when she decided to partner with him!  This is just the way things are!”

Kimba:  “I heard you were talking about me?  Don’t talk about what you don’t know about, Tobiah.  I don’t need anyone else to defend me, and I DEFINITELY don’t need to be protected from Noel.  So butt out.”

Tobiah:  “All I did was - ”

Kimba:  “Butt.  Out.”

Tobiah:  “Every time I see your face, it makes me angry all over again!  Just stay away from me!”

Kimba:  “Then why did you even come here?!”

Tobiah:  “Because… because… to support… because… birthday… Noel… Gaia… UGHHH just leave me alone!”

Noel:  “Everybody looking??”

Tobiah:  “Stop! Standing! Next! To me!!!”

Tobiah:  “Oh, Chipmunk, Dada’s sorry about tonight.  I’m not proud that you saw me like that.  When you’re older, maybe you’ll understand.  Sometimes sims have so many emotions at the same time that they don’t realize what they’re doing or saying to other sims.  I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.  Ms. Kimba is really a very good sim, but it makes me so confused and frustrated to think… you know what, I’ll tell you when you’re older.  Just be nice to Ms. Kimba whenever you see her, okay?”

Linus: “Okay, Dada.”

Gandu: “Did you know the Creator made me attracted to all brown-haired Sims, and that’s like, half the village?  Turns out I want to make out with just, like, everybody.” Rubati:  “…Interesting… everybody?  I never thought about kissing… everybody.”

Gandu:  “Sometimes it can be hard to tell another Sim you want to kiss them, especially for a Sim as shy as you.  Maybe it would help if you could feel like you weren’t really being yourself.  Like, you’re from the Green Eyes lands.  From what you’ve told me about it so far, you were raised not to kiss a lot of different Sims.  So just pretend you are a Sim who isn’t from the Green Eyes lands.”

Rubati:  “But… my eyes ARE green, Gandu.”

Tammuz:  “I was having the most interesting dream, I was on a date - with you, of course - and I was - I mean, we were - running after a deer, and it kept darting this way and that, and then it reached a stream and I couldn’t make the jump across it but Ga- you could, and the deer was getting away and you were telling me to come on and jump over but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t make it over.”

Lehabim:  “Saph, I’m really really sorry about before, I didn’t mean to make you think I want to rule this land with an iron fist - or any fist at all.  I want this to be a place where Sims want to come and live their lives and I think I’m the one with the best ideas to make that happen, and I know with you by my side we’ll make it happen together, and I don’t ever want to do anything to hurt you or scare you.”

Kimba:  “Have you tried summoning the dee- spirit with music?  Noel is always talking about how powerful the magic of music is.”

A Voice on the Wind: ♫ Spirits, Spirits, in the trees ♫ please come out and talk to meee ♫ I have needs and you have powers ♫ If you help me I’ll give you flowers ♫ Spirits, Spirits in the trees ♫ let me indebt myself to theeeeee ♫

.

T̲̟͔͍͙̘͖ͣ̽͒h̩̣̱͋ͧ̈ͪͨͨ́̚i̩̜̗͔̖̮͎ͣ̃̂̆͊̀̆ͮ̀s̞̯͕͍̟͎̞̦̓̓͋̀̽̐͑ ̭̳̲̲̿ͧ͊̌ͮͨc̥͈̼̺̎̇͑ͨͬ̑o̗̲͕̘ͥͫu̲̝̩͊͆͊̔ͫ̓̌̀l̦̟̭̍͌͐d̙̑͊ ̮̟̠̼͊̈̊͊ͣ̓ͧ̀b̻̲̺̝͂̂ͥ̚ͅḛ̲̮̗ͦͥ̓̿ ͈̞̯̗̭̠̬ͬͩ̊̈́̍͌̿̄f̼̹͚̲̐ͧ̍̑̽ű̹͔͑ͭ̓n̫̰̣̈ͩ̽̐̾͆

.

Noel:  “Everybody, I have to warn you to be on the lookout for ogres, or demons, or any other evil spirits of the forest… I don’t want to point any fingers - so I won’t tell you which person not sitting at this table tried to summon the supernatural today without help from me or Rubati… and so it probably wasn’t successful, of course.  But.  Just in case.  Be on the lookout, and come get me immediately if you see anything out of the ordinary.”

Dan:  “Lehabim of the Golden Eyes, the sound of my true name cannot be heard nor comprehended on this mortal plane.  Suffice it to say that I am the one who can make all your dreams come true, so long as it pleases me to do so.  Do you want riches?  Unfathomable riches?  I can make you so prosperous your mind would explode.  Power?  Dominion over this forest and all its minor creatures, dominion over your fellow sims, even unto Death itself?  Speak it, and we shall see whether I want to make it so.”

Lehabim:  “I mean, that all sounds really great, and I’d love to talk over my ideas for the village with you, but, seriously, what do I call you?  It feels weird not having a way to address you.”

Dan:  ::huff::  “Fine.  You may call me Dan.”

Lehabim:  “Dan, can I ask you something?  Are there really ogres in the forest?  It would be a huge help if we knew exactly what threats to be on the lookout for.”

Dan:  “Ogres, elves, tomatoes, toh-mah-toes.”

Nadii’ya:  “Do you ever wonder if you’ll be able to remember all the names of the new babies?” Tobiah:  “Probably.  Eventually.  I mean, I really only need to know our kid’s name at first, right?  I’m sure I’ll pick up the rest in time.” Nadii’ya:  “…what if we have twins?” Tobiah:  “Uhhhhhh.  Then, uh oh, I suppose.”

Pallu:  “So, which one is this, again?”

Stachia:  “Darah.  I think Darah.  I think we decided if you always do everything for Darah, and I always do everything for Hasrah, then we’ll never get them confused.”

Pallu:  “Right, right right right.  Okay.  Darah for Daddy and Hasrah for Mommy.  Makes sense.  We’ve got this, Stach.  We each do a diaper, we each do a cuddle, we each put one down for a nap… they’ll be toddlers in no time.”

Tammuz:  “Thanks for being here, Japhia.  I didn’t even know how much I missed you.”

Nadii’ya:  “Look at you!  How did you fit inside me?!  You look like a Linus.  Your father missed the whole birth, so he doesn’t get a say.  And I say, you look like a Linus.  Hello, Linus, who’s the biggest baby to come out of the tiniest mommy?  You are!  Yes, you are!”

Noel:  “Kimba!  You’ve done it!  You’ve birthed the most perfect bundle of perfection I’ve ever seen!  Can I name her?  Please, pretty please?  I promise you’ll like what I pick!”

Kimba:  “Ok, wha-”

Noel:  “GAIA!  The mother of the world!”

Kimba:  “That’s a lot of pressure to put on one little baby, Noel.  You sure?”

Noel:  “Gaia!  I can feel the Creator whispering it in my ear.  Gaia, the first goddess. Gaia, the progenitor of the entire future. Gaia, the mother of all simulated life.“

Kimba;  “Yeah, you’re right, that’s no pressure at all, love.  I’m sure she’ll turn out just fine.  Gaia it is, then.”

Saphir:  “Tziviah, shhhhh shhh shhhh!  Time for sleep, little doe!  I’ll be right here next to you the whole time, and when the sun comes up, we’ll start your first day on this crazy plane of semi-existence!  I have so many things I didn’t even know I wanted to teach you!”

Rubati:  Literally WHAT have I gotten myself into??

[willsimpforanyone]

Hiiii🥰🥰 could I get a tony x reader where the reader is related to Peggy Carter in some way. He always flirts and annoys her until something goes wrong at the lab or at SHIELD and they end up getting sent back to the 40s so they have to find Pegs and Howard to help them get back. And while there they realize how much they actually like eachother and all. Pleeeaassee. I really like this idea and I can’t wait to see what you might do. Thank you 🥰🥰

my goodness that’s a complex request! a brilliant idea, i’m honoured that you want to know what i’d write, thank you so much <3

okay lets see how this goes...

_____________

I was tapped on the shoulder with a screwdriver. “Thanks James, I was jus- oh, it’s you.”

Tony Stark’s grinning face was above me, his hand was the one with the screwdriver I’d asked my assistant James to get me. I rolled my eyes, snatching the tool from him and turning back to my work. “Wow, so cold for someone so hot,” Tony hummed behind me. 

“You’d think with how much money you have, you’d be able to buy some class,” I bit back. I heard him thump against the wall, and in the corner of my eye I saw him slide down to sit next to me, hand on his heart.

“You wound me, gorgeous,” he groaned, picking up a couple screws and fiddling with them. 

Snatching the screws away from him, I began to fix a panel to the wall of the contraption. “My apologies, Stark, I didn’t realise you gave that much of a shit.” I was hoping that he’d leave me alone, but apparently my hopes were too high. 

“Carter, I’d hope you’d know by now-” He was cut off by a sudden shudder in the machine. “The hell was that?”

I lifted myself from the floor to look out of the door to the machine, only to see that it was shut. Nothing too alarming in and of itself, except James’ face was struck with panic. Tony seemed to realise this at the same time, and we both raced to the door. “James?! What’s happening?” I yelled as the machine shook again. Tony stumbled and I caught hold of his arm to steady him. 

“I-I don’t know!” James’ frantic muffled voice barely travelled through the thick glass of the door. Suddenly, Nick Fury came sweeping into the room, heading straight for the outside control panel. 

“Stark, Carter, can you hear me?” 

We both nodded as he looked up at us. 

“Can you turn off the machine from the inside?” 

Tony looked at me hopefully, but the hope died as he saw my expression of terror. I took a shaky breath. “No, sir. The controls in here aren’t finished, I was working on them just now.” Fury looked grim. 

Without any warning, the machine rumbled and both Tony and I were thrown to the floor. The room outside seemed to be phasing in and out of reality. Fury seemed to make a decision, hitting a couple buttons on the outside control panel. “Okay, we can’t stop you going, but we can control where you go.”

Tony looked at me wildly. “What the fuck kind of machine is this?!”

I turned to see panic in his eyes, his breathing laboured. I had no idea that Fury had kept him in the dark about this, but I’d have to tell him the truth. “Tony, this machine is capable of transgressing the natural order of time, allowing S.H.I.E.L.D. to traverse the expanse of space and time in a few seconds. Or at least, it will be once I fix the internal control panel.”

His expression briefly morphed into one of fascination. “This is a time machine?!”

“Yeah, if you wanna call it that.” I turned back to Fury. “Where are we going?”

It was difficult to make out the next few words- “Late 1940s...you both...Stark...Carter...”

And all of a sudden, with no preparation, we’d moved. Fury was gone, James was gone, the whole outside lab was gone and replaced with what looked to be a basement, and it was just me and Tony in, essentially, a large box. I could hear Tony’s breathing get faster and shallower, so I pushed my own panic down and spun to take his hand in mine.

“Tony, look at me. We’re gonna be okay, we’re gonna get out of this. But I need you to take deep breaths with me, okay?”

It took a couple minutes, but Tony’s breathing began to even out, and in helping him, I managed to calm myself. We were sat on the floor, his hand still in mine, when I very faintly heard voices coming from the door of whatever room we were in. There was nowhere to hide, and I made a mental note to include cloaking in the hardware of the machine if- no, when, we got back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. As it was, we could just stand and prepare to meet whoever was coming to investigate the noise that came from us landing. 

The door flung open, and two men ran in. The first man was about 5′9″, maybe 5′10″, with a smart suit and slicked back hair; he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. The second man was taller, maybe 6′, a towel flung over his shoulder and also wearing a smart suit. They stopped short on seeing us and the contraption we were contained in, surprise evident in their faces. 

I looked over at Tony to see him staring at the first man intently. It was clear that no one else was gonna talk, so I stepped forward. “Hi, excuse the intrusion, could you tell me where and when we are? Please?” 

The two men focused their eyes on me. The second man spoke. “Uh, yes-” he had a strong Queen’s English accent “-you’re in Mr Stark’s basement, and it’s 1947. May I ask, what exactly are you doing here?”

My mind was whirling trying to think of a plausible excuse and coming up blank when Tony moved closer to the glass wall separating us all. “We time travelled. We’re from your future, kind of.”

I hit him. “Tony! What the fuck! You aren’t supposed to tell peopl-”

“Okay,” shrugged the first man. I blinked and stared at him. He laughed. “I’ve seen stranger things, doll.”

I raised my eyebrow at Tony and he shrugged; and I knew where I’d seen the first man before. “That’s...that’s Howard Stark? Your dad Howard Stark?” I hissed at Tony, low enough so the glass would block the sound. He nodded and I detected a slight glassy quality to his eyes. 

“Um, excuse me?” The second man seemed hesitant to talk. “Are you alright? Are you... stuck?” I moved towards the door and hit the ‘open’ button on the right. There was a hiss as the door opened. The journey must’ve knocked the mechanism and fixed it. Howard Stark reached out to help me out the box, and in a few seconds both Tony and I were on 1940s ground, breathing 1940s air- it was surreal. 

The two men introduced themselves, finally. Of course, I knew who Howard Stark was, and I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the second man was Edwin Jarvis. I shot a slightly confused look at Tony, and he winked back- yes, he had named his AI assistant after his dad’s butler. 

My ears perked up at the sound of heels on wooden floors coming from upstairs. “Mr Stark, do you have guests over?”

He winked at me, much like Tony did. “Call me Howard, beautiful,” he moved his gaze to the door of the basement which was still open, showing a staircase. “And I think, if I remember the sound of oxfords correctly, that will be the lovely Miss Peggy Carter,” and he started back up the stairs, gesturing for the rest of us to follow. I was frozen. Peggy Carter? Like, the founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. Peggy Carter? Like- 

“You’re aunt Peggy Carter?” Tony murmured into my ear as he passed me, grabbing my arm and gently pulling me along. I nodded slowly. Were there any other notable Peggy Carters that Mr Stark Senior knew?

Sure enough, at the top of the staircase, stood one Miss Margaret Carter. “Hey English, what’s going on?” Howard went to give Peggy a hug, which she fluidly side-stepped in favour of shaking Jarvis’ hand. 

“Howard, I did tell you I needed to speak to you, where have you been?” 

“Sorry Peggy, I was distracted by the stowaways in my basement.”

“The...what in your what?”

Howard gestured to me and Tony. “These two time travelled into my basement. I believe them.” Peggy rolled her eyes, and Tony looked pointedly at you as if to say ‘you do exactly the same damn thing, what the fuck’.

Peggy breathed out sharply. “Then what are they still doing here? I assume something is wrong with their machine- no one would intentionally time travel in non-period specific clothing, why haven’t you fixed the issue yet?”

Howard blinked as Peggy pushed past him. “Hello, my name is Peggy Carter, a pleasure. My apologies for Howard, particularly to you-” she locked eyes with me “- as I’m sure he’s already tried to flirt with you, no doubt unsuccessfully.” 

I laughed. Even I could see the similarities between me and my aunt. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I smiled back at her teasingly, and she laughed lightly. “But, we do need to get back to... where we’re from as soon as possible.”

Peggy turned abruptly to Howard. “See? Let’s take a look at the problem, shall we?”

He gestured to the stairs. “Lead the way, English.”

With the combined effort of two Starks, two Carters and a Jarvis, the internal control panel was up and running. It was interesting to watch the relationship between Peggy and Howard. There was an intense fondness between them, and I saw a lot of their relationship in my own interactions with Tony. Perhaps...perhaps there was more affection for him than I had allowed myself to feel. 

It seemed as if all too soon Tony and I were ready to go back to the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Howard and Peggy stepped out of the machine, followed by Tony, and then me. Having spent some time with the aunt I’d never really known left me feeling nostalgic, I knew her better now than I ever would. I looked over at Tony who was looking at his father, who in turn was quietly conferring with Jarvis. 

“Time to go, I guess,” I turned to Tony, who nodded, still somewhat fixated on Howard. I gently tugged at his hand, and he allowed himself to be pulled into the machine. He stopped me just before I shut the door.

“Uh, Howard?” He asked. Howard stepped closer. “This is gonna sound weird, but... I love you. I should have told you that a lot more.”

Howard looked taken aback. “Uh, thank you?” Then it was almost as if he was compelled to speak further- “...I love you too.”

I went to face Peggy, and was about to open my mouth when I noticed her smiling at me. She reached out for my hand. “Before you say it first- I love you,” she whispered. 

My eyes were wide. “But, what?”

She laughed and squeezed my hand. “You and I are a little too alike. As are those two,” she said, nodding towards Tony and Howard. “I know you’re part of my family, I’m not as dense about these things as Howard.”

I smiled and squeezed her hand back. “Thank you, Peggy. I love you too.” 

We let go, and she closed the door to the machine. I reached out for Tony’s hand, and he twisted our fingers together. The controls were already set for the correct time and place, and together, Tony and I pushed the button. 

Howard, Peggy and Jarvis’ faces phased out of reality, and the S.H.I.E.L.D. base came back into view. I was so relieved I jumped on Tony and hugged him tight. He was surprised and stumbled slightly but caught me and hugged me just as tight. 

“Well ain’t that just sweet. We been waiting for an hour and you two won’t even say hi?”

I flushed and Tony put me down as we turned to see Fury still at the external control panel. I tapped the ‘open’ button and to my joy, the door opened and Tony and I jumped out of the machine. 

“I take it the damn thing works?” Fury asked. We both nodded vigorously. “Alright, rest of the day off, both of you, go home.”

We didn’t need to be told twice. We were out of the base within ten minutes. 

Tony stopped me before we went our separate ways home. “Hey, um, would you maybe... wanna come to dinner at Stark Tower? It’s just- you’re really pretty and really smart and I kinda maybe like you a lot,” he stuttered, and I could feel the hand holding mine shaking slightly. 

I didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, Tony, I would love that.”

Because hey, we just went back in time together. That bonds people.

______________

wow this took me a good couple hours to complete! i really hope you like it and it didn’t ramble on too long. thank you so much for requesting <3

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone

A Tyler Rake/Established Female OC fic

Summary: A lot changes in five years. Now a family of nine, the Rakes are splitting their time between Australia and New York City. With Dhaka nothing but a distant yet still painful memory and the dirty work mostly behind him, Tyler is healthy and thriving. Not only as a husband and father, but as the acting founder and boss of his own mercenary business and co-owner of his wife's well loved and flourishing bookstore. But while love and domestic happiness abound, the past and its secrets are never far behind.

Huge thanks and tons of love to @tragiclyhip​ for never letting me give up! It’s thanks to her I ever actually finished off the last fic, or started this one.  And she also made my incredible banner! <3 <3 <3

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @tragiclyhip​

Prologue

FIVE YEARS LATER

******

The stand sits fifteen feet above ground and wraps halfway around the gnarled and twisted trunk of a centuries old Kapok tree. No hunter has made use of it in years; the stairs leading upwards weakened by harsh weather and neglect, wood cracking and bowing under the soles of well worn combat boots. Despite the added weight of gear and a kevlar utility vest, long legs and a wide stride make it easy to navigate the missing steps. His movements are purposeful and quiet; careful to avoid even the slightest snap of a twig or the rustle of dried and fallen leaves or the scratch of dirt and pebbles against the pitted and fragile wood. Any sound is a detriment in this environment; the lush and dense landscape so eerily still and silent that even a hint of noise would seem deafening. The slightest of movement has the potential to stir up the wildlife, which in turn would draw unwanted attention upwards from the banks of the Mekong River.

Even under the thick and expansive umbrella of the forest the heat is stifling. Humidity oppressive and choking. A thin layer of sweat gathers on his brow; errants droplets burning his eyes and gathering on the ends of his lashes. His shirt -long sleeved to not only provide cover in the jungle but protect from scrapes and cuts and the burn of the sun- nearly soaked right through; darkened patches under the arms and at the small of the back, the fabric clinging to dampened and slick skin. Fine beads settle around his mouth, and when he drops into a crouch at the top of the stand, he swipes his tongue over his top lip in an effort to clear away the sweat. It had been an hour hike through the jungle; moving swiftly and silently as he listened to directions being given through a transmitter he sports in his left ear. It’s sweltering and he’s thirsty; head pounding and his hands begin to tremble as the beginning stages of dehydration begin to settle in. He takes the time to remedy the situation. Shrugging off the rucksack slung over his left shoulder and dropping it onto the floor of the stand; hands shaking yet able to tear open the zipper. There’s two bottles of water packed in amongst the gear; extra pairs of socks in case of treks through swamps and marshes, two full clips of ammo that will only be used if someone on the other side is able to pinpoint his location and launch a full scale and fully armed search.

He hopes it doesn’t come to that.

Downing half a bottle of water, he uses the remains to cool himself down; splashing a handful of the liquid against his face and then dumping the rest over his head. Ten years ago, the elements wouldn’t have bothered him as much; he would have been thirty seven years old and still in relatively good shape. Physically AND mentally. And despite a consistent and punishing routine of heavy lifting, core training, and cardio, he’s definitely feeling the effects of both age and decades of hard and often dangerous living. Knees stiff and aching from the brisk hike over rough terrain and then through mud and thick brush; the arthritis that takes up residence in the small of his back and the right hip making its presence known. He’ll be sore tomorrow; every step he takes will send pain shooting through him, and for the next week he’ll wonder just why the hell he ever said ‘yes’ in the first place. Each stiff movement and slow step and aching muscle will remind him of just how things HAVE changed over the years. Gone are the days when he could skip a few days sleep; able to function on both little rest and minuscule amounts of food and drink. There’s no way he’d be able to do THAT now; push his body to the limits he’d been testing for so long. That man no longer exists. The one that would take the most dangerous and unpredictable jobs in hopes of catching a bullet. Who’d almost pray, beg and plead each and every time he went out that it would be his last; one sniper’s shot away from finally being put out of his miserable existence.

Things changed, of course. When he’d been least expecting them to. There’s way too much to lose now. It’s why every decision he makes now...every movement...matters so much. Even the smallest of mistakes can change the course of the future; one misstep potentially blowing his cover and leading to his untimely -and likely extremely brutal and bloody- demise. An hour away a helicopter waits for him; on standby to whisk him back to Vietnam and that little ‘hole in the wall’ hotel he’d been staying in. A quick shower and he’d back in the air; rushed to the nearest backwoods airport where a private jet would take him home. It’s been four days now; two spent in the planning stages before his first ‘hit’ in Laos and then the trek to Cambodia. Two for the price of one, Anil had said, although money matters very little now. These kinds of gigs are more a service; wiping out the dregs of society more of a gift to humanity than anything else.

He normally doesn’t take on jobs. A total of three in the past five years. This is the fourth AND fifth. The skills and the mindset quickly and effortlessly returning, the first kill a lot easier than he’d thought it would be. It’s like riding a bike; once the gun is in your hand and you’re peering through that scope, your finger easily finds and pulls the trigger. And this job had been impossible to turn down; the dirty and vile details hitting home and preying on his ‘human side’. Anyone in his position as a husband and father would have been enraged and disgusted. Drug runners and weapons smugglers that moonlight in abusing and torturing their wives and exploiting children. Sometimes even their own. People that evil don’t deserve to live; even a bullet between the eyes considered too kind. But it’s all he has time for. No ‘face to face’ meetings. He can’t be seen or even identified by name in order to protect his OWN family. He has to remain a ghost. An urban legend of sorts. Talked and gossiped about in drug circles and even among the local police and military who’d either been paid off by the criminals or had been hopeless and hapless when it came to stopping the activity. Nothing will be known about him. No glimpse of his appearance, no chance to hear his voice or even know his name. He’ll be known for just those ‘lucky shots’ he’d gotten in. Turned in to nothing more than rumours and speculation that will continue spreading long after he’s gone.

***

“T...you there?” Yaz’ voice through the earpiece. The reception is spotty; words broken up by heavy static.

He uses a forearm to wipe the mixture of water and sweat from his face, then lays a finger against the transmitter clipped to his vest. “I’m here.”

“Hot out there today, isn’t it.”

He smirks, then begins pulling pieces of a semi automatic rifle from the confines of the rucksack; hands moving quickly and efficiently as they snap and twist the weapon together. “I don’t want to hear your bitching. You’ve got air conditioning. I’m the one out in this shit.” His voice is low and quiet as he speaks. Even the smallest of sounds can travel great distances; echoing through the jungle and making its way down to the banks of the Mekong.

The river sits fifty yards to the south; muddy and heavily polluted and dotted with boats belonging to local fisherman. One vessel stands out from the crowd. A large and expensive houseboat; the chrome that lines the powerful motor and makes up the railings on the top deck sparkling in the sunlight. His mark is inside; meeting with some of Anil’s people acting under the guise of weapons buyers. When the time is right, the man in question will be led out onto the bottom deck and he’ll have one shot to get the job done. It’s another reason Anil had personally sought him out; his marksmanship impeccable, no other employee coming close to possessing that level of skill.

“You good?” Yaz inquires.

“Yeah…” he snaps the magazine in place and then switches off the safety. “...I’m good.”

“I’ll let you know when there’s movement. Going silent for now.”

He tears off the lid of the second bottle of water and takes a single sip before setting it down; using his sleeve to wipe both the opening and every side of the plastic. He can’t leave any trace of himself behind. Not a drop of sweat or a hint of saliva or his fingerprints. He’ll wipe the stand down before he leaves; methodically cleaning anything he may have come in contact with. IF his location is discovered, money talks. Anyone remotely related to his mark will pay to get answers, and the police will take what’s offered and collect every shred of possible evidence. He can’t take that chance. A single, unattached person may not care. Had he still been the guy living in the rundown and beaten up shack in the outback, he wouldn’t have thought twice about covering his tracks. But lives depend on him. A wife and seven beautiful little humans that count on him to protect them and keep them safe.

He CAN’T fuck this up.

Up in the stand he’s well hidden; camouflaged by the abundance of thick, lush greenery. It’ll be a tough shot through twisted and tangled branches; not even a foot of clearance between wood and leaves. Depending on exactly where his mark is led, he’ll compensate for that; pulling to the right or left in order to prevent the bullet from getting too ‘dirty’. He’s made tougher shots; mostly in his SASR days. And there’s no doubt he’ll make this one.

He bunches up the ruck sack and places it near the edge of the stand, facing the river. He’ll use it as both a ledge and a form of cushioning; balancing the long barrel of the rifle will provide stability and muffle the sound of the shot, disguising where it had originated from. He winces as he gingerly lowers himself onto his stomach; the cracking in his hip and the soreness in both knee and shoulder reminding him that he’s not as young as he used to be. Forty-seven is ancient in mercenary years. Most never make it that far. The odd few get to retire peacefully, but the majority are taken out by a bullet; one too many lapses in judgment and the smallest of errors leading to their deaths.

But most never get to have what he does either. A normal life with a family that loves him ; thousands of miles away, anxiously awaiting his return. It’s why he’s so careful; every decision he makes and every action he takes is done with them at the forefront of his mind. And he thinks about them now; warm and safe in the confines of a townhome in New York City. Four days ago they’d travelled from Australia and he’d promised to meet up with them as soon as the job was finished. It’s their third Christmas there; an eight bedroom brownstone in Gramercy Park. The kids especially enjoy spending the holidays there. Quickly falling in love with the idea of a white Christmas and enjoying all of the outdoor activities; sledding and skating and seeing the tree at Rockefeller Centre and visiting Santa and the reindeer in Central Park. And while life in the Big Apple had never appealed to him, the draw of Gramercy had been impossible to resist. Quiet and quaint; tree lined streets and a private park and neighbours that mind their own business and don’t ask too many questions. He’d initially worried about standing out like a sore thumb; tanned skinned and the array of tattoos and scars and the ‘Down Under’ accent. It turned out to be everything he HADN'T expected. The feeling of small town life within an enormous city.

The back of his hand swipes at the locusts and mosquitos that hover close to his face; their buzzing and humming both tickling and irritating his ears. The right isn’t as good as it used to be; hearing slightly muted and distorted thanks to years of both firing and coming in close contact with weapons. It’s another drawback to getting old. Along with his eyesight. Needing glasses to read or to spend anytime staring at a computer screen.

“They’re on the move.”

He blinks sweat from his eyes and wipes his lips and chin on the sleeve of his shirt. Then he settles in; bending his left leg at the knee and wriggling his stomach against the wood beneath him. The latter is mind over matter; as if the simple movement and the way he presses the toes of boots against the stand will improve both shot and stability. His finger hovers over the trigger; other hand lightly supporting the barrel of the gun, allowing the rucksack to bear the majority of the weight. Anil’s people come out first; identified by the tan linen suits he’d been told they’d be sporting. The ‘Mark’ is a middle aged man, clad in casual attire; olive green cargo shorts and a simple white golf shirt. He’s short and stocky with greying hair and a noticeable limp; a run in with a rival drug crew years ago resulting in the amputation of his leg and the acquisition of a prosthetic device.

His jaw clenches and his lips settle into a thin, pursed line. His heart hammers in his chest and both his shoulders and his chest tighten. It’s adrenaline. That unmistakable rush that comes before an imminent strike. He remembers it well. And it’s both surprising and disheartening how much he’s actually missed it.

As they chatter and laugh, one of Anil’s men places a hand on the Mark’s back and ever so slightly turns the other man in Tyler’s direction. It’s all he needs; just enough of the Mark’s forehead to ensure a ‘kill shot’. And he takes it; the sound slightly muffled but still deafening as it echoes through the jungle and stirs birds from their perches and wildlife from the safety of their nests and dens. The bullet easily tears through layers of leaves and bypasses branches; finding its target and sending the Mark sprawling backwards and then down into a pool of brain matter, fragments of skull, and quickly spreading blood.

“Target’s down.”

The words are simple. To the point. And as chaos erupts down by the river, he calmly begins his retreat; pushing himself up onto his feet and slinging the rifle over his shoulder. There’s no pressing need or rush; Anil’s people have made their quick escape and the screams and shouts are coming from startled fisherman and colleagues of the Mark that had been inside the houseboat. He has time; methodically cleaning every inch of both the stand and the stairs and making sure he’s left nothing behind.

“I’m heading back,” he says, shouldering the ruck sack and taking the stairs two at a time. He’s suddenly anxious to get on his way; feeling the relief that sets in as he begins his hour long trek.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Not from the success of the mission or the satisfaction that comes with ridding the world of yet another monster. It’s one of happiness. One of peace.

The realization that each step he takes brings him closer to home.