#he giggles and kicks his feet at the mere thought of pen writing to him and yet he’s like “no I would never court her lmao’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

def-initely-soul · 4 years

Text

house rules {1}

pairing: jimin x reader (f.)

genre: fluff; angst; roommates au; kinda new girl au; smut; f2l au

rating: explicit

warnings: sexual content; mention of emotional abuse; mention of manipulative relationship; mention of body issues; explicit smut

words: 26.3k

summary:

↠ {living with two guys has always its pros and cons. Pros being someone will always get you popcorn for your midnight cravings. Cons being you might like one of them…?} ↞

or alternatively, the shenanigans of five friends, where two of them are in a loving relationship, one is Kim Seokjin and the other two don’t know what the fuck they’re doing

The clock on the other side of the wall keeps ticking, each second driving you closer to madness over the insistent sound.

You click your pen open and closed. Open and closed. Open and closed.

And yet you still have no freaking clue on how to begin this godawful novel.

Godawful as in the mere effort it takes for it to come to life is starting to make you want to flick yourself off from a window.

Like, god, you’ve been staring at an empty piece of paper for almost two hours now, your coffee’s gone cold.

And yeah you write in paper. No laptop, no typewriter, just you, your pen and a currently empty piece of paper. It seems more direct, more intimate this way. Put you in front of a blank screen and your brain will surely follow it.

Although, today it doesn’t seem like you have much luck with paper either.

With a tired sigh, you rest your mighty pen on your desk, taking out your noise-cancelling earbuds and stand up from your chair.

You stretch out your limbs, your back already killing you from hunching over your desk for two hours now and you trudge over to the living room where the rest of your friends are having a movie night.

“Guys, the old crone decided to join us…” Hoseok comments from his side of the small couch as you drag your feet to your designated spot beside Jimin on the big couch.

“Quick, hide your popcorn, and hide your jelly beans!” Seokjin joins in on the mocking as Jimin scans through Netflix for a decent movie none of you has seen yet.

You know you’ll end up watching Dirty Dancing again because the chances of finding a movie none of you has seen yet are nearly non-existent.

“Ha, ha, your superior sense of humour is astounding…” you mumble as you sit cross-legged on the couch and Ana turns to you from her spot next to Hoseok.

“No luck with the novel still huh?” her eyes are looking at you sympathetically and you grumble a response, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, it’ll come to you eventually,” Seokjin says, stretching his hand from his armchair to your right to nudge your knee and you let a deep breath infiltrate your lungs once he retracts it.

Jimin gives you a side glance before his eyes return to the screen. “Yeah, until she gets a different idea and the cycle repeats itself.”

“Hey!” you lightly punch your best friend in the ribs, earning a groan from him, “I just have to find a way to start this bloody thing and then it’ll turn out to be the greatest book in the century, you’ll see!” you defend your cause, eyes wide and challenging on Jimin who simply smiles at you with a winning smirk.

“That’s more like it…” he replies, the glint in his eyes your only hint giving away the intention behind his words and again you groan. Refusing to let the smile on your lips appear.

“I hate you when you do that…” you mumble, a small note of fondness only Jimin can distinguish, hiding in your voice as he finally picks his choice of a film with a smile hanging from his lips.

“Shh, the movie’s starting!” Ana interrupts everyone when -surprise surprise- Dirty Dancing starts playing. All of you have a certain liking towards the movie- I mean what’s not to like? Summer romance? Patrick Swayze with half-open shirts? Heated dancing? With Patrick Swayze?- but you can say for certain Ana takes the cake as a Dirty Dancing fan.

“How can you still be this much excited for this movie?” Hoseok comments from beside her and even though he sounds judgey there’s only lovesick fondness in his eyes when he looks at Ana.

Although when Ana turns to look at her boyfriend, she looks completely serious. “Keep this up and no sex for a month. We don’t condone this kind of behaviour in this house.”

You and Jimin try to suppress your giggles as Hoseok’s eyes widen in fear. “You can’t do that, what about you?!”

Ana simply smiles back with too much sweetness. “My hands aren’t just good for making you cum, babe.”

Disgusted protests come from the rest of the group as you’re sure you won’t ever be able to unhear this.

“Why, why did we have to hear that?” Jimin complains as Seokjin makes a gagging sound next to him.

Hoseok just smiles. “Oh, come on Jimin, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy tapping this hot piece of ass!” and another round of puking sounds emerges in the room.

Truth is Ana didn’t date Hoseok in the beginning. In reality, she got added to your group only after she started going out with Jimin in the second year of college. And even though she and Jimin didn’t work out in the end, she had already become an essential part of your group and they even remained great friends after the breakup.

Not long after that Hoseok asked her out. And you swear no couple ever made more sense than those two. Although you really hate when they get down and dirty in Hoseok’s room which is right next to yours.

You first started living with Hoseok and Jimin in the first year of college, five years ago. Jimin was a guy you barely knew from high school but he was the greatest of options you had when looking to share an apartment with someone. You didn’t want to live in a dorm but it wasn’t like your parents were rich or something, so there was no way for them to afford an apartment just for you. So looking for a roommate was the best solution.

Hoseok came a little bit afterwards. You and he shared a class and you became friends fairly quickly. So when he told you the situation at his dorm was unbearable, you couldn’t help but think of the empty bedroom in your apartment. And the rest is history.

Seokjin became a part of your group only months before Ana did. He and Jimin worked at the same part-time job as waiters in a local restaurant. And while Seokjin went forward to run his own restaurant and Jimin followed his passion as a dance instructor their friendship persevered. So it wasn’t long before he joined your group.

And it wasn’t long before you got this stupid crush on him.

Not that it matters anyway. He doesn’t know and you don’t plan on ever telling him to be honest. You know how easily things could go wrong and you’re fine with simply being his friend.

“Okay, babe, that’s enough for now…” Ana quiets down her boyfriend with a small kiss on his lips and finally pipes down to focus on Patrick Swayze’s biceps.

Your eyes rest on the screen as another exhausted sigh escapes you. This novel is your chance of having something of yours published. What if you can’t make it in time? What if it’s shit? What if you finally realize after all this time that being a writer was never what you were supposed to be and all those years believing that were in vain? What if-?

Your thoughts get interrupted when you feel a palm laying across your knee and squeezing it gently.

The fog in your head clears a bit when you find Jimin looking at you with a soft smile. One that tells you not to worry. Jimin could always read you like a book so it’s no surprise he could sense you spiralling.

And it’s not a surprise that with a single look he can calm down your racing thoughts.

He’s one of your closest friends after all.

“Hoseok you can’t keep using Ana’s departure as an excuse to not help with cleaning up!” you yell towards the couple saying goodbye at the front door, while Seokjin giggles as he dries out some of your plates.

“Shut up, you heathen, this is true love we’re talking about! Also, I can and I will!” your roommate yells back and you roll your eyes. On the other side of the room, Jimin picks up several empty beer cans as Ana kisses her boyfriend.

“Go on, babe, before they drive a stick through your ass,” she chuckles.

Hoseok pouts, the gesture almost etched to his features by now. “Oh, and you haven’t even done it that thing you wanted yet!”

“Again keep your weird sexual life out of this god-respected household,” Jimin comments and at once everyone turns to stare at him confused.

He stares back before, “Okay, yeah, I just heard it…” then he proceeds to take the trash out.

Ana chuckles before pressing another kiss on Hoseok’s lips. “Okay, I’m off. Bye guys!” to which you all respond with a chorus of “byes”.

Hoseok closes the door with a dreamy sigh before trekking over to the kitchen island to watch as you and Seokjin clean up. “Is it weird that I miss her already?”

Seokjin coos at the same time you react too. Although your reaction comes closer to a gagging sound and now both of them look at you like you just kicked a puppy.

You clear your throat, “oh, I- I meant… ''awww”...” you reply quickly, avoiding their stares to clean up the rest of the plates.

“Don’t mind her Hobi, she's just jealous,” Seokjin comments as he rests his towel on his shoulder.

At that, you scoff. You’re not jealous! You just hate corny things!

“Jealous? Pff. Who says they miss someone right after they leave? That’s just cheesy! I mean, yeah, you and Ana are perfect for each other, you’re cute together and you complete each other, and there’s intimacy and feelings and mutual respect…” your voice becomes sadder at the end and ultimately fades out, leaving you staring at the floor.

Where were you going with this?

The guys look at you with knowing glances and you groan out loud.

“Oh, shut your faces. I’m not jealous!” “Who’s not jealous?” Jimin asks once he’s back into the apartment.

“Y/N, of our relationship,” Hoseok’s quick to respond.

“Yours and mine?” Jimin queries.

Hoseok rolls his eyes but he responds in all seriousness “No, Ana’s and mine.”

Jimin just shrugs. “Makes more sense.”

Your eyes narrow and you scoff. “No, it doesn’t because I’m not jealous!”

Seokjin places his palm on your shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find someone someday to be grumpy with.”

You pick his hand and drop it off your shoulder. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Besides I got my novel to write, I don’t have time for a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’d marry rich if I was expecting anything of that novel!” Hoseok comments with a laugh but everyone freezes, including you. Is that what he really thinks? That you’re not gonna make it?

All of you turn to look at him, but Hoseok remains oblivious of your stares for a few moments. But when he realizes you’re all looking at him, he looks confused.

“What?” he asks, visibly perplexed.

Jimin’s eyes widen, disbelief in his voice. “Dude!”

Hoseok shrugs though his eyes widen in almost fear. “It was a joke!” his voice is one pitch higher as slight traces of panic are evident in his words. When no one responds, he turns to you, desperation and honesty in his eyes. “Y/N, really, it was just a joke.”

You stare for a moment too long, before you nod, giving him a smile to spare him from his misery, deciding to not let such a simple comment affect you. “Yeah, yeah, I know, of course!”

“I didn’t mean any of that okay? It was a stupid joke!” Hoseok nearly screeches, regret in his words as he doesn’t seem at all convinced by your answer.

You force a laugh to calm him down.

“Hobi, I’m fine! Don’t worry too much,” you smile at him, patting him on the back and moving to put the plates Seokjin dried out to their respective cabinets.

He still doesn’t seem convinced and he’s ready to pester you some more before Seokjin intervenes, sensing you’re starting to feel uncomfortable with all the attention. “Anyways, Hoseok you said you wanted my opinion on something?”

Hoseok’s attention turns to Seokjin once he speaks up. “Ah yeah! Actually, my three-year anniversary with Ana is coming up and I’m all out of ideas,” he responds sheepishly as he rubs the base of his neck.

“Ehm, hello? I’m her best friend, why don’t you ask me?” you complain, putting your hands on your waist with one eyebrow cocked up.

“Y/N your most serious relationship lasted two months and it ended because you fought over which peanut butter spread is the best,” Hoseok raises an eyebrow at you as he and Seokjin walk over to the couch, trying to brainstorm ideas.

“I’m sorry but whoever thinks smooth is better than crunchy is simply not human,” the memory sends a shudder through you and you look at Jimin for confirmation and he’s quick to nod his head and agree.

“Oh, yeah, that relationship had no future after that,” he washes his hands at the sink as he looks over to Hoseok who simply giggles.

“Okay, yeah, I can give you that one. But you really have no idea of relationships, so I’m sorry but I’m not taking any suggestions,” he softens the blow with a flying kiss in your direction.

You scoff, indignant. “Rude. True but rude!” you admit as you finally place the last of the plates in its place. Hoseok and Seokjin are now deep in conversation, throwing one idea after the other and if he decides to go with any of these, you’re sure Ana will dump him before he gets the chance to utter “break up sex”.

Seeing as there’s nothing else left for you to do, you decide to head off to sleep, making a mental note to talk to Hoseok about his date ideas and salvage whatever you can.

“Okay, I’m going to bed, goodnight guys!” you wave them goodnight before turning to the hallway when Jimin comes towards you.

“I’ll walk with you,” he says, following you into the corridor.

You walk in silence, not that it’s weird or anything. You and Jimin have reached that point in a friendship where you don’t have to fill the silence to be comfortable around each other. You could be in the same room, doing completely different things, not talking at all, and still, you wouldn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

Once you reach both of your rooms, as they are right across from one another, you ready to say goodnight when Jimin interrupts you.

“Ah, wait…” he stops you just as you reach for your doorknob and you turn around. “What is it?”

He sighs before, “look, I know you know Hoseok didn’t mean any of that but I also know words tend to get into your head…” he begins, voice gentle and eyes cautious on you as you fidget on your spot uncomfortably.

“And I just want to say-”

“What?” you cut him off with a tired sigh, “everything will turn out okay? That suddenly I’m gonna be blessed with divine inspiration when I least expect it?” you give him a weak smile, crossing your hands on your chest.

What you don’t expect is Jimin to laugh. “No, no, all of that is just a pile of crap!” he chuckles and you can’t help but laugh along with him.

“I wanted to say that whatever goes through that little mind of yours shouldn’t keep you from writing. That’s what you do, you write! And, yeah, some of it may come out as complete bullshit, but that’s just how it has to go before you get better,” he says simply, voice filled to the brim with honesty and you rest your eyes at your feet, suddenly feeling very self-aware.

“Because I know you’re gonna get better. You just need a push,” he finally smiles softly at you, warmness spreading through your heart as if his smile is a portable heater, radiating warmth to the people closest to it.

“Thanks…” you mumble back, letting your eyes find him to truly express how thankful you are.

You aren’t good with expressing your feelings, not when it’s not on top of a piece of paper. Everyone knows this, Jimin even more so. You know you don’t have to say anything for him to understand how you truly feel.

And so he smiles back and nods as if to say “you’re welcome”.

And for a few moments, you stay like that. Both of you leaning on your doors, staring at each other as another silence fills the corridor.

But this one is different. Still comfortable but there’s something else hanging in the air. It’s the way you look at each other, basking in each other’s presence, comfortable and not ready to say goodnight yet.

It’s the way Jimin’s looking at you. Smile slightly fading as his eyes remain on your face, ever serious, ever intense as if they’re saying something his lips can’t, something you can’t quite understand, something that makes you feel-

Jimin breaks the stuffed silence with a shake of his head. “Anyways, um… goodnight, Y/N…” he says, voice thick with something and his words seem to revive you as well as he opens the door to quickly go into his room.

“Ah, yeah, goodnight, Jimin,” you reply casually before you enter your bedroom and close the door behind you.

That felt… weird.

As much as you try to put a name to what you felt out there, you can’t. The situation felt too foreign, too much for your drunk mind to comprehend.

You shake your head, passing it off to the many beers you had and without giving it much of another thought you go to sleep.

Although, three weeks pass after that talk and you still can’t get it out of your mind.

You figured you would’ve forgotten about it by now, blaming it on the amount of alcohol you had consumed that night but no. Those last few moments before you parted in the middle of your hallway still linger in the crevices of your mind, not unlike a bunch of vultures scavenging for prey.

Even now, at Seokjin’s birthday party, it’s all you can think about instead of paying attention to the birthday boy himself and the subject of your affections. If he even knew you weren’t focusing on him on his own birthday party he would flip.

Did Jimin want to say something to you? It seemed so but since then he’s made no indication as to show he wants to talk to you. It’s been three weeks and there was no other talk of that weird conversation outside your bedrooms. No sign that it ever happened. You wonder what was going through his mind at that time. You wonder what he’s thinking about it now, if he even thinks about it still like you.

“Earth to Y/N! Hello?” a floating hand breaks your inner monologue, Ana looking at you with scrunched eyebrows and a glare to match. The two of you are currently alone amidst the crowd of partygoers as Ana dragged you aside to excitedly tell you about the amazing anniversary Hoseok had planned for them, last Saturday. You guess you lost focus somewhere in the middle.

“What?” your voice gets defensive and Ana’s glare seems more intimidating as seconds pass by.

“You stopped listening!” she slaps you lightly on the arm and a yelp comes out of your lips as a form of protest.

“I didn’t!” you try to defend your guilty self as you rub the afflicted spot.

“Yeah, no, I thought so at first “Y/N would never just stop listening” so I started casually throwing Seokjin’s name into the conversation, that always worked like a charm to get you to focus, but you still didn’t listen!” she retaliates and you shrink back in shame.

“Sorry…” you mumble in all honesty, biting your lip in embarrassment. “But I heard the most important parts!” you perk up, “And the whole concert then cooking at home date idea was really insightful and cute! And full disclosure, if I hadn’t interfered and let Hoseok listen to Seokjin, you would’ve ended up at a screening of cats!” you shake your finger at her and she giggles out loud.

“Although I gotta admit, Hoseok cleaned up really well on its own…” you smile at her and she nods with a dreamy sigh before taking a sip of her drink.

“Oh, and you have to thank me for stopping Hoseok from using his “free Hoseok love” coupon as a gift.”

Ana’s eyes widen in grave seriousness. “Oh, he did use that…”

You wince at that. “Oh god, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t fret too much about it, he also bought me that cute pair of boots I wanted!” she pats you on the back before she bites her lip as a child that’s about to get scolded, “~and… I also kind of enjoyed it…” she says with a wink and you roll your eyes at your friend.

“The leather ones that were really expensive?” she had rumbled over the course of a week about how she fell in love with those boots but their relationship would’ve never worked (in simpler words she couldn’t afford them).

She nods at you. “Marry him,” you respond with urgency and Ana laughs at you.

But as her giggles die down her face turns solemn once more.

“Are you okay though? It’s not like you to not pay attention, even more so when it’s about Seokjin…” she says with a chuckle at the end, yet her eyes remain cautious and you sigh.

“Yeah, it’s just that Jimin-”

“Y/N, wait… I’m sorry but you do realise that I was talking about Seokjin, right?” her stare is a bit weirded out, “and that we’re currently at his birthday party and you choose to hang out with me instead of talking to him?” she skillfully observes, making you feel uncomfortable at how her words trigger something you haven’t acknowledged before and you’re certainly not ready to do so now.

You shrug. “I guess I don’t know what to say…” you choose to say instead, hoping it’s enough of an excuse to get out of this conversation.

“What do you mean? You never had a problem with that before…” she counters, genuinely confused at your bizarre behaviour and you press your lips in a tight line as you shrug once more, not really knowing how to address that.

At your hesitation to breach the subject, something seems to click in Ana’s mind and she sighs in realization.

“Can I tell you what I think without you getting all grumpy and defensive?” she asks, eyes careful and hands in the air as if to pacify you. You shrug again, albeit a bit curious about what she has to say.

“I don’t think you really like Seokjin- ah, ah! Let me finish!” she shushes you when you begin protesting, “I mean not anymore, it was pretty obvious you were crazy into him when I first met you but now…” she takes a breath, eyes looking at you wearily as she prepares for the finishing blow, “now I think you cling into the idea of liking him because it’s comfortable. Because it’s easier to fall back into the safety net of liking someone and not doing anything about it than making yourself deal with the fear and uncertainty that comes with meeting someone new.”

Your cheeks flush as you stare at her, feeling vulnerable as if someone cut you open and went through your most inner thoughts, even when you feel like there’s something else that neither you nor she hasn’t been able to pinpoint.

Ana’s observation finally put what you’ve been feeling for a while into words. You haven’t realized it but the more you think about it, the more sense it makes.

And yet you still stubbornly act like it’s not the case at all.

“I… I’m not afraid to meet new people…” your protest is as weak as your voice and Ana looks at you unimpressed and thoroughly unconvinced.

“Really? Then you’ll have no problem talking to Seokjin’s friend from high school,” she points at the tall, blond hunk with the glasses and the cute dimples currently chatting with Seokjin.

“Namjoon?! Are you nuts?! He’s way out of my league!” you screech in panic. Namjoon is a sight to be held and in your opinion, people should pay to see him up close. Would that be considered a fucked up way of prostitution? You’re not sure.

Ana rolls her eyes. “First of all, “leagues” aren’t a thing and second of all, you’re totally scared boo!” she says plainly with a victorious grin and you flinch instinctively.

“I’m not! I just don’t have time for a relationship!” you say, still trying to get out of this conversation even though Ana doesn’t seem at all deterred.

“No one talked about a relationship, you baboon, it could be just sex. But, out of simple curiosity, how long has it been since you had sex? Seven, eight months?” she retaliates, in all ways but physical backing you up into a corner.

You groan, hiding your flaming face behind your hands.

“This is the perfect opportunity to hook up with someone and never having to talk to them again for the rest of your life. No strings attached, no awkward first dates, no phone calls. Just one night of drunken sex to get you to relax a bit and who knows? Maybe it’ll help you get your inspiration back,” she concludes with a tilt of her head. And the more you think about it, the more you realize she’s right about everything. About Seokjin, about using him as a distraction, about needing to relax and this being the perfect opportunity for it. It’s been a while since you’ve felt any sort of attraction for Seokjin. No excitement or accelerated heartbeat, no sweaty hands, no unbearable giddiness when he decides to throw a visit.

You guess somewhere along the way those feelings faded out, giving place to the love and comfort that comes out of a years-long friendship. You’re not attracted to him anymore.

And Ana’s suggestion does seem kind of appealing. You suppose some sex would help you get rid of all the nerves that come with writing a book.

And Namjoon is kinda hot. Okay, scratch “kinda”, “unbearably hot” is more fitting.

You just worry if he’ll able to surpass the last time you had sex. For some reason, you’re almost convinced he won’t.

“Okay, you’re right, I’ll do it,” at that Ana squeals and claps her hands happily.

“But I have to talk to Seokjin first,” you continue, resulting in a confused expression masking Ana’s face.

“What? Why?”

You shrug. “I spent those four years crushing on him, I feel like I need some kind of closure,” you chuckle and Ana stares at you dumbfounded before she shakes her head.

“Fine, do what you have to, but don’t take too long! Namjoon is like a walking modelling billboard, most of the people in this party have their eyes on him. Boy, if I wasn’t dating Hoseok would we be doing things right now…” she reveals as she stares at the man in question while biting her lip and you stare at her disapprovingly.

“What? I said if,” she says as if abdicating all blame and you shake your head at her with a laugh. Hoseok wouldn’t mind and to be honest they’d probably be talking about how to convince Namjoon for a threesome.

“Okay, I’m going, wish me luck,” you announce as you begin making your way towards Seokjin.

“What you need is alcohol, not luck,” Ana yells at you as she goes to find her boyfriend and you give her one last smile before turning your attention to the birthday boy.

Only now realizing what you’re about to do and, great, your hands are trembling. Maybe you did need some alcohol.

But it’s too late to make a run for it when Seokjin spots you and a smile graces his lips.

“Y/N! Come over here! You know Namjoon right?” he rushes to include you into the conversation, eyes wide with hidden meaning as he nudges you towards Namjoon and the man with the dimples smiles at you.

“Ah, yeah, we’ve met before. How are you?” you smile back at him and the longer he smiles, the deeper his dimples become and the more adorable he is.

“Can’t complain. How about you?” he chuckles, the sound almost illegal, as he pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Oh, right, he also has a deep and mellifluous voice. How is this man not famous for something?

“Pretty well I’d say. Um, do you mind if I steal the birthday boy for a bit? There’s something I need to talk to him about…” your hand is already dragging a confused Seokjin away, even if you’d rather be doing that to the other boy.

Namjoon blinks at you, as perplexed as Seokjin before “Ah, yeah, sure…”

“Thanks!” you yell over the music, although you’re sure the man mustn’t have heard you as you’re already making your way down the corridor towards the back of Seokjin’s apartment.

“Ugh, Y/N? What’s going on?” Seokjin’s voice is beyond weirded out as you finally reach his bedroom, that’s off-limits for the party. You push him in and close the door behind you.

“Sorry, I just needed some privacy for what I’m about to do…” you admit with shaking hands as Seokjin’s eyes widen in fear and confusion.

You take a breath before fixing your posture and stare bravely at the man in front of you. “This may come as a shock to you but I…” you take one final breath, “I used to like you-” you begin, dreading the moment Seokjin decides this is too odd for him.

“I know.”

Seokjin’s voice takes you by surprise as your mind processes the words that just left his mouth, a different kind of dread overwhelming you.

He knows?

“What? What do you mean you know?” your voice comes out offended, as Seokjin puts down his drink with a sigh and turns to look at you.

“I mean I know. You weren’t exactly subtle with the stares and all…” he comments calmly although your mouth falls open to join your feet at the ground at the absurdity of the situation.

He knows. All this time, he knew?!

“Well, why didn’t you say something?” you throw the words at him accusingly and he rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t want to embarrass you! I figured since you hadn’t said anything that you didn’t want to act on it so I never said anything either!” he defends himself, voice high-pitched in true Seokjin fashion.

“Oh my god, that’s so embarras- Wait,” you cut yourself when his words strike you as odd and another thought makes itself known in your mind. “You mean that if I had said something…?” you look at him weirdly and Seokjin sighs, eyes already confirming your suspicions.

“I might… not have said no to a date…” he admits, scratching his ears and your mouth drops open.

You could have dated the Kim Seokjin and you didn’t because you were too scared to make a move?

Wow, your past-self would be seriously pissed at you.

Seokjin rushed to explain. “But that was back then when I didn’t know you that well!”

You gasp at the offence, crossing your arms on your chest. “You mean now that you do know me, I'm not that dateable, Kim Seokjin?!”

He groans, rubbing a palm over his face. “I just meant that back then I was willing to risk our friendship because we weren’t that close in the first place! But now we’ve been friends for almost half a decade and even though you are extremely dateable” he says with a roll of his eyes but you’re still satisfied, “I just can’t see you in that way. And even if I did I wouldn’t be willing to risk our friendship over something like that,” he concludes with a sigh.

“Oh,” you reply simply, satisfied with his answer before you continue.

“Well, that’s good actually, because I just wanted to tell you that whatever those feelings were… they’re gone now. So I just… wanted to come clean I guess…” you admit softly, finally feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest.

“So, we’re okay?” Seokjin asks with hope and you smile, lightly punching his arm. You find yourself relieved after Seokjin’s confession and you know you’ll be fine.

“We’re okay,” you nod and Seokjin smiles back.

“That punch was lame,” he retorts and you gasp. “Do you want me to punch you for real, you masochist?”

His smile widens. “No, you freak of nature, I want a hug!”

Immediately, you begin protesting. “No, no, no, no, no. No hugs, you know this!” you begin moving away from him as he comes closer with a predatory grin. You absolutely hate hugs. They’re unnecessary long and intimate, you never know where to put your hands and you always end up having someone’s hair in your mouth.

Seokjin pouts as he nearly chases you into the hallway. “Come on, I just found out I’m not your crush anymore! Do you know how much of a hit is that to my ego!?” he says, standing in front of you, effectively blocking your way to freedom.

You sigh, already regretting, the words you’re about to say but seeing no other way out.

“Fine, but you have to promise me to not tell anyone! I have a reputation to upkeep!” you yield, shaking a threatening finger at him but his grin only grows bigger.

“Deal!” he squeals, eager to grasp this rare chance of affection from you, seeing as he has tried numerous times to get a hug from you but being unsuccessful. Till now that is.

His hands wrap around you in a soul and bone-crushing hug as your arms end up being squished between your bodies. You try to control the smile on your lips as you struggle to break your arms free and wrap them around his impossibly wide shoulders. Actually, this doesn’t feel so bad. It feels like being enveloped in a giant, fuzzy blanket. If that blanket had an unquenchable thirst for strawberry shortcakes.

A few moments pass before you begin to pull back. “Okay, you giant carebear, that’s enough,” you giggle as Seokjin retracts his hands.

“Now, wasn’t that refreshing?”

“If I let you know, I’ll have to kill you,” you mumble fixing your clothes and Seokjin’s trademark laugh echoes throughout the corridor, making your smile grow.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he throws you a cheeky wink.

You shake your head at him with a laugh before another thought crosses your mind and you bite your lip. “So… about Namjoon…”

Seokjin’s mind instantly follows your train of thought but he lets out a surprising -to say the least- groan. “Seriously?”

You find his reaction a bit too odd for your liking. “Why?”

“Uhm, you dragged me away to my bedroom at my own birthday party. He probably thinks we jumping uglies right now,” he fixes you with a disappointed stare. Fuck, you didn’t think of that.

You grunt in frustration. “Great, now what?”

Seokjin’s eyes glint when he comes up with yet another brilliant idea. “If we split we’ll find him faster!” he exclaims enthusiastically and your eyes widen.

“Genius thinking!” you declare before you sprint down the hallway, the both of you looking for Namjoon.

You would think it would be easy finding Namjoon in an apartment as small as Seokjin’s. But it’s not. It’s anything but.

When you finally do find him after almost 40 minutes looking for his perfect ass, it’s with his mouth stuck against another person’s neck so any hopes for a one-night-stand are going down the drain. So instead you resort to drinking the rest of Seokjin’s sparkling rosé collection until you have to pee your weight in alcohol.

You abandon the living room where the party is still going strong, in search of the holy grail that is Seokjin’s bathroom right now, hoping you get to relieve your misery.

But as you approach the door, you fail to register the voices coming from inside. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to live through the impending embarrassment.

Instead, you bust the door open in your haste to pee, but all of that goes to shit once you see Jimin inside the bathroom. Or, more precisely, Jimin’s mouth sucking on the pulse of some blonde’s girl neck -who feels oddly familiar- like he’s a fucking vampire.

Your eyes widen, meeting with fear Jimin’s livid ones before “OhmygodImsorrypretendthisneverhappened!” you yell in one breath, anxious to get out of there as fast as possible and before Jimin gets the chance to curse at you, you close the door and disappear down the hallway.

Ugh, oh my god, why are you so awkward?

You rub your hands on your face as you walk down the corridor, wondering where you’re supposed to pee now. Couldn’t they bone at Seokjin’s room?

Though, among your thoughts emerges one particular one that makes you stop dead in your tracks as you finally realize why that girl seemed familiar.

She wasn’t just some random girl. No, she was a very specific blonde girl, one that happens to be the pure personification of evil on the face of the earth, one that you’re sure hides horns beneath that perfect hair.

Jimin’s ex, the girl who manipulated and abused him repeatedly, the girl who broke up with him nearly a year ago to be with someone else, after he caught her cheating. The girl who broke his heart.

Dinah.

Fuck.

You remember the first time you met Dinah, although she hadn’t left any particular impression on you. She was a high school friend of Taehyung, with whom Seokjin shared some classes with and were kinda close. It was your fourth year in college when Taehyung was still hanging with you guys before he found a job opportunity overseas and left. Now he texts every now and then or visits even more rarely.

Seokjin’s birthday party is one of those rare visits, hence why Dinah was also present last night.

The first time you met her, almost two years ago, was in a scheduled study group in one of the local cafes. It was you, Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok and Dinah, most of the guys, studying to prepare for their last year through college and Ana couldn’t make it so honestly, you were relieved you had another girl to go through together the boys’ antics.

Although if Ana was there, she would’ve probably spent all of her time being coupley with Hoseok and that kinda defeats the purpose.

Dinah was studying for a math exam and Jimin had offered to help her since she wasn’t very good at it. You didn’t think much of it, mind already going haywire over your new novel idea so you didn’t really pay much attention to anyone.

It had been when Jimin left for the bathroom when you saw her scrolling through her phone that you decided to help her with a problem even Jimin couldn’t quite get.

Only her reaction was a tad bit different then what you’d expected. She had interrupted you even before you got to tell her you wanted to help, with a kinda sharp tone saying she didn’t need your help. You had backed off then, kinda bummed out about it but you could already tell she was into Jimin and wanted his help specifically.

But as you had turned to pay attention back to your novel, your gaze couldn’t help but fall on her open notebook. And there it was, in a hidden corner of the page in messy scribblings the solution to the problem. Her handwriting.

You didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t your cup of tea to hide your intellect to raise the ego of the boy you were into and besides feeling a bit sad for her, you didn’t do anything else. Who were you to judge?

It wasn’t until the two of them started going out that you started feeling some sort of dislike towards her. And not just you, the rest of the group as well.

It was obvious to everyone how shitty she treated Jimin. At first, of course, there were no signs as if to warn you of Dinah's manipulative nature, they were still in the lovey-dovey, honeymoon phase. But as time passed, Dinah’s facade began to crumble. Jimin’s interaction with the opposite sex were limited due to Dinah’s extreme jealousy, which meant you and Ana barely got to be around him, let alone talk to him. Her snide comments and judgey behaviour made him feel inadequate over everything. How he got her the wrong gift, how the movie he chose was stupid, how the restaurant he picked was disgusting, and the list goes on and on.

At first, Jimin tried to talk to her about those things, certain she would understand what she was doing once he’d brought it up. But when you’re in love it’s easier to ignore all the red flags. It’s easier to blame yourself for everything when you can see no fault in the person you’re in love with.

Soon the relationship turned toxic. Dinah became similar to a parasite, sucking the life and happiness out of Jimin, as he fell prey to her every whim. Making him even more insecure in himself when she knew he already had some issues he was trying to work on. But that didn’t deter her. Instead, it gave her leverage, to use all the ugly, little things Jimin thought of himself against him.

At some point, it had gotten so bad Jimin refused to eat.

It was then that all of you tried to intervene.

Unsuccessfully that is.

It had gotten pretty ugly in the span of a few minutes with how angry you and Hoseok were at Dinah and at Jimin’s unwavering loyalty to her. Soon it had become a yelling match between the three of you as Seokjin and Ana had tried to bring some sense to all of you. In retrospect, none of you handled the delicate situation well.

In the end, Jimin had stormed out of the apartment, furious at all four of you, to go to Dinah or to the only one that got him as he had put it.

Only to find her in bed with someone else.

He had come home hours later, stinking of alcohol, telling you what had happened through red eyes, tear-stained cheeks and hiccups.

You had put him to sleep and the next morning Dinah was breaking up with him over the phone.

The next few months were awful. But he survived them. He survived and realised he deserved better, not this hell Dinah made him go through. That wasn’t love.

After all of you encouraged him to talk to someone about everything, Jimin went to a therapist and he came out stronger. Sure, some of the issues were still there but so were the rest of you. He knew you’d be there for him if he ever needed you.

That’s why you’re so pissed this morning.

Ana and Hoseok look at you like you’re a ticking bomb about to explode at any minute from the other side of the kitchen island as you munch on your cereal and send death glares at Dinah, currently sitting on Jimin’s lap on the dining table.

If only “death glare” was a bit more literal.

You can’t understand Jimin. He was supposed to be over this. Doesn’t he remember what she did to him, how miserable he was?

“I haven’t seen you staring so long at something since that time you tried to microwave popcorn with your mind,” Ana’s hushed whispers reach you as not to alert the couple and Hoseok almost sputters out his milk.

“Did it work, though?” Hoseok’s eyes stare at her expectantly and you roll your eyes.

“Not gonna dignify that with a response,” is her cryptic answer.

“Seriously, am I the only one who’s pissed over this?” you say through gritted teeth, the happy couple wholly oblivious to your little conversation. Ana and Hoseok seem too calm, given you have a fucking demon at your dining table.

Ana sighs. “We are too, Y/N, but let’s face it, what can we do about it?”

You look at her in disbelief. “Talk to him?!”

“Yeah, and look at how that worked out last time…”

“They broke up.”

“After he caught her cheating…” her words are slow as if talking to a child, “and it wasn’t even him who initiated the break-up! If Jimin wants to be with her we just have to accept it and be there for him if something happens again,” she concludes, taking a sip of her coffee and you can’t believe your ears. She can’t be serious.

“Hoseok, what’s your say in this?” you ask, rather loudly might you add, so you steal a glance making sure Jimin hasn’t heard.

Hoseok shrugs in answer to your question. “We all know she was the devil incarnate. But maybe she changed. Let’s give her a chance.”

Your mouth hangs open when your last possible ally walks over to enemy territory. “Give her a chance? She’s not Andrew Garfield in the Amazing Spiderman!”

Ana’s expression gives away her utter bafflement. “I have so many questions…”

You shrug. “Everyone hates him but I think he was a great Spiderman.”

Hoseok’s incredulous stare doesn’t last for long. “Anyways, all I’m saying is Jimin went through a lot…”

“So he should know better!” you retort.

Hoseok doesn’t seem amused, “So there must be something that changed his mind! He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. If he gave her a second chance, so should we.”

Ana nods at her boyfriend’s words and they both return their eyes on you, waiting for confirmation of your part that you’re gonna be nice.

You regard them with an ominous glare, “Traitors…” you mumble before you groan. “Fine. But I’m gonna be watching her every move. Like an owl!”

“I’m fairly positive it’s supposed to be “like a hawk”...?” a confused pout takes over Hoseok’s lips.

Ana chuckles, “It is “like a hawk”.”

Your confusion is evident. “Really? But owls are nocturnal animals, therefore have better eyesight!”

Ana rolls her eyes at you, tired of all the bird talk. “Even so! Please promise you’ll behave!”

You take a deep breath when a shrill laugh echoes throughout the apartment and you can already feel yourself fuming.

“I promise.”

After the two “lovebirds” have left your apartment for an impromptu date, which the declaration of had you nearly barfing on sight, you crawled back into your room, in search of inspiration, daring to take another shot at your mostly unfinished novel.

You gather your hair up in a messy bun, glasses on top of your nose, iced coffee next to your papers, preparations all ready to freely embark on the raging seas of creativity.

If writing a novel was that easy.

After writing another three chapters, well after the sun has settled in the horizon and your eyes are barely keeping themselves open, a knock thrums against your door. But before you get to reply, the door creaks open and Ana pops up behind it, walking in with observing eyes and a bag of cheddar-flavoured chips.

“Why do you even bother knocking?” you sigh, taking off your glasses to rub your exhausted eyes.

“The knock is a warning, not a request for entry,” she plops on your bed with a smile, crossing her legs on your duvet and pats the space next to her.

It’s not uncommon to have Ana spending the entire day here, after all, she is one of your closest friends, an elementary part of your group and Hoseok’s girlfriend.

You get up from your desk, limbs aching for the various positions your body has been in the midst of writing, and with a tired smile you sit down next to her.

“No luck with the book still?” she asks, passing you the chips and you hum appreciatively, your tongue already tasting the divine taste of those chips.

“Well, I’ve written some stuff… just not any particularly good stuff,” you munch through the snack with a grubbled noise of satisfaction and Ana nods in understanding at your words, “and honestly that whole “Dinah” thing is infuriatingly distracting! I’m still pissed and I can’t even stop thinking about it.”

“Wait…” Ana interrupts you and if her face says anything is that she just came to a sudden realization. One she doesn’t seem to particularly enjoy.

“Are you sure this isn’t because of…?” her words hang in the air as she regards you with careful eyes, waiting for you to grasp the meaning between her words.

Though you’re none the wiser. “Because of…?” your utter obliviousness is infuriating and Ana groans, rubbing her palms on her face, pinning you with a ridiculous look.

Right then, it’s as if a moment of clarity strikes you and you finally understand what she means.

Your eyes widen in horror.

“What? Ew, no! Why would you even think that?!” you immediately protest, entirely disgusted by the mere notion of what Ana is implying.

She doesn’t seem at all bothered by your extreme reaction. “I’m just saying, it happened!”

“Yeah, eight months ago!” she can’t be serious. There’s no way she actually believes that.

She cocks an eyebrow. “It was also the last time you had sex.”

You let an exhale drop from your lips, as you take a trip down memory lane, all the way back to eight months ago.

It was April, four months or so after Dinah had broken up with Jimin, leaving him a complete wreckage in her absence. It became a group activity, trying to get Jimin back on his feet. Making sure he ate, taking him outside for some fresh air, helping him get out of his funk.

One night, you took him out for drinks in a bar close to home, to help him get over her through alcohol and hopefully some meaningless sex with a stranger. And Although both of those things happened, it wasn’t a stranger lending him a helping hand that night. Or a helping mouth if you want to be accurate.

You had woken up the next morning in his bed due to the unsettling feeling of dread curling in the pit of your stomach. What the hell were you thinking? What if this changed everything? You were best friends and roommates, what now?

But when Jimin woke up, everything seemed to be back to normal. You were relieved things didn’t become weird, his words immediately putting a rest to your worries over your possibly ruined friendship, joking lightly about the whole thing and how the others might react to the whole incident. It wasn’t a big deal because you never let it become one. It was but one night of mindless sex, one that left you both satiated and you could both agree it meant nothing. Jimin just needed some rebound sex and you… well, it had been a while. And you had needs.

Although you did get a lot of teasing from the rest of the group for the next few weeks. That wasn’t anything fond to remember, especially when you were still thinking you were into Seokjin and he had a large part in said teasing.

But that was in the past. You never felt anything for Jimin in the first place.

“It’s not that, okay? She’s just an awful person and I don’t want to even think about the consequences of her doing Jimin dirty again,” your calm voice and demeanour finally convince Ana as she lets out a relieved breath.

“Okay, good. Got scared there for a second, things could get really messy,” she admits with a small smile.

“You don’t have to worry about that. If anything that’s the least of your worries right now,” you say munching on some more chips as you eye the clock on your wall.

Ana looks at you perplexed. “What do you mean?”

You press your lips together. “Hoseok is alone in his room right?”

Ana looks even more baffled now, not sure where you’re going with this. “Yeah…?”

You press your lips in a tight line. “It’s 10 o’clock…” you relay, a sense of urgency in your voice.

Ana’s eyes widen. Hoseok’s latest obsession is watching Glee reruns on TV, which wouldn’t be that bad if he didn’t insist on singing every episode’s songs for the remainder of the week.

‘You can still stop him if you run…” you offer and Ana is immediately off your bed.

“Hoseok put down the remote!” she yells, running out of your room, down into the living room as you giggle and munch on the chips she left behind.

Your mind travels back to Ana’s worries about your feelings but you laugh them off.

You and Jimin? The entire idea is utterly ridiculous. He’s your best friend, you could never look at him that way.

Although, you too can admit he can be a sexy piece of ass when he wants to.

With a sigh, you throw the empty bag of chips on the floor and get under your covers, your mind too tired out to continue writing.

You just hope this thing with Dinah is only temporary. How long can a fling last when you already know the bad side of your lover?

When another week passes and they’re still going strong with no prospects of a breakup anywhere on the horizon, you realize it can be long.

Very long.

You wake up each day to giggles, picking thrown out clothes off the couch, listening to their yucky canoodling as they insist on making out on every surface of the apartment like a bunch of delinquents. While the rest of you are still present!

You swear if you hear another one of her obnoxious laughs you’re gonna drive a glass dildo through your ear canals to stop yourself from hearing altogether.

“I can’t take this anymooooore…” Hoseok whines quietly as you, he and Seokjin are crammed in the two-seat couch, while the lovebirds currently occupy the entirety of the big sofa.

It’s not that there’s no space for you to sit there as well. More like their insistent snogging effectively grosses the rest of you away.

“Me neither, but what can we do?” Seokjin whispers back while shuffling on the sofa, trying to find a more comfortable position and instead, managing to elbow both you and Hoseok in the process as an episode of Brooklyn 99 plays on the TV.

At the other side of the coffee table, Ana smiles triumphantly at you as she crosses her legs on top of the only armchair in the room. She was faster than the rest of you, that mean son of a bitch.

Hoseok squints at her with hatred before leaning in to whisper. “Is it wrong that I’m turned on by how mean she looks?”

Both yours and Seokjin’s protests of disgust are immediate.

“Lower the tent you perv,” Seokjin makes a face.

“Too late, this tent is the sturdiest thing ever built. I mean it’s so strong, so efficient, this stick is never gonna go down-”

“Okay, we have to do something or else I’m gonna finally kill Hoseok. After all those years of putting up with his weird sexual energy… this is gonna be the last straw,” your serious eyes turn to Seokjin to stress out the gravity of the situation.

Hoseok giggles mischievously and Seokjin sighs almost like he’s on auto-pilot. “Okay, okay, what do you propose?”

Hoseok pulls a face. “Really? That’s what convinces you? I’m hurt and as your friend of nearly four years I won’t stand for this kind of dishonour of my name!”

You both stare at Hoseok for a minute, no reaction whatsoever.

“Okay, I have a plan,” you ignore Hoseok in favour of turning to Seokjin and Hoseok groans, mumbling a grumpy “fake friends”.

“For the last time, Y/N, I refuse to be involved in your -honestly frightening- lust for murder,” Seokjin gives you the stink eye.

You gasp, offended. “I never said anything about murder!” you exclaim and Seokjin’s shoulders drop, looking somewhat remorseful.

You bite your lip though, knowing full well he’s not gonna like this suggestion either. “I just said we could sedate her and put her in Jimin's room.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, entirely disappointed but not surprised. “No.”

“Why? It’s a win-win situation! We don’t get to hear her and the couch is free!” you protest but Seokjin’s eyebrow raises.

“How’s that a win-win situation?”

“It’s a win-win situation for us! None of the wins is for her,” you shrug before Seokjin flicks you in the forehead and you yelp in pain.

The sound somehow alerts the couple and they both stop kissing to look over to the three of you weirdly. You and the boys immediately stop talking, trying to look as inconspicuous as ever. Which only makes you look even more suspicious.

“You guys okay there?” Jimin asks, voice questioning and wary.

All three of you smile at the same time, which honestly gives you a creepy “Stepford Wives” vibe, and you speak up when an idea pops into your head.

“Yeah, it’s just that this couch is kinda um… small for the three of us. But we’re fine!” you feel Seokjin staring at you wildly and you discreetly nudge him to play along.

Jimin’s face falls. “Oh, I didn’t realize! Some of you can come sit here.”

“Oh, no!” Seokjin waves his hands dismissively, “You guys seem really cosy there, we don’t want to ruin that!” he says, finally following your line of thought and you nod quickly as if to agree with him.

“Ah…” Jimin replies, voice soft and a second passes where his face hardens. But then it’s gone and he taps his finger on his chin as he thinks it through before-, “Well, you three can sit here and we can sit on the smaller couch if you’d like.”

The three of you are already standing up, ignoring the pout and slightly sharp glare Dinah is giving you.

Suck it up, demoness.

“Well, if you’re sure-”

“We’d really appreciate it-”

“Aren’t you two the sweetest-”

Jimin smiles at you, probably already knowing what’s going on and yet he says nothing, urging Dinah to stand up and follow him on the smaller sofa.

You and the boys fall to the bigger sofa with moans of appreciation, finally free to spread out your limbs without touching each other.

“Oh, yeah… that’s the stuff…” you moan as your arms lie limblessly to your side, not touching Hoseok’s or Seokjin’s for just a few centimetres but even those little centimetres of distance come as a blessing.

Ana chuckles at your antics and Seokjin sends her a glare.

“You don’t have laughing-at-the-rest-of-us rights, anymore, Brutus!” he shakes a finger at her but Ana’s smile doesn’t deteriorate.

“I’d let that Brutus impale me with her blade anytime…” Hoseok adds unnecessarily and you groan.

Jimin takes a pause for having his soul sucked from his mouth from the dementor next to him, to look mildly curious. “How would that even work?” he asks and Dinah looks less than thrilled to not have his whole attention anymore, making you feel somewhat in the mood to gloat.

Ana rushes to explain. “Well, you see it can happen when you have purchased a specific type of-”

Seokjin immediately shuts Ana with his palm over her mouth. “Did you have to ask?!”

Jimin giggles. “I just wanted to know!”

“Yeah, and I wanted to not be traumatized by that image at 8 o’clock on a Thursday night but here we are!” Seokjin interjects and an involuntary laugh escapes your lips before Hoseok joins you.

And then Ana and Jimin do too before Seokjin relents as well at the sound of your laughter and you all end up cackling like maniacs in the middle of your living room.

Well, all except one.

Dinah sighs a little too loud when your giggles don’t seem to die down and she slowly gets off the couch. Her sullen face, an indication she visualised this whole evening to play out a little differently.

“I think I’m gonna head home…” She addresses Jimin and he stands up too.

“Oh, no, so soon?” your sarcasm can’t be helped. Hoseok elbows you in the ribs in return and you just barely conceal your groan.

“Why? Stay a little while longer…” Jimin pouts at her, that one specific pout that makes him seem like a kicked puppy, therefore makes him irresistible to refuse. You purse your lips as you guide your attention to the latest adventures of Jake Peralta but your treacherous ears can’t help but follow the rest of the conversation.

“I can’t. I have to be at the office early tomorrow…” she sounds remorseful as her hands rest on Jimin’s chest. But as said before you’re definitely not looking at them, so you can only guess.

“I’m sure those kids can wait a little- You know what, I felt bad for saying that, so forget I ever did,” Jimin says quickly as he circles his hands around her waist. Again you guess.

Ah, yeah, you forgot to mention. Dinah is a damn paediatrician. How could a person as evil as herself be something in such close proximity to children will forever escape you.

She smiles at him before- “Buut… you can come over instead if you’d like…” she says in a low voice and your eyes widen. You drag them away before Jimin’s surprised ones find you.

He can’t do that! Well, obviously, he can but Jimin wouldn’t do that to you-.

“Actually I promised Y/N we’d watch Space Jam tonight…” he tells her somewhat apologetically but still you feel relieved. Watching Space Jam is kind of a tradition between the two of you. It was a favourite movie of both, a feel-good movie if you will and long ago you’d promised each other that when things got rough for one or the other and you needed a little pick-me-up, you’d watch the movie together. You didn’t have to say anything else, just ask if the other one wanted to see the movie. And whatever the two of you had planned instead didn’t matter, you were always there when the other needed you.

You asked him this time. Your novel wasn’t going that well and some serious doubts over your writing skills had plagued your mind. You needed a getaway. And you weren’t about to let her get that away from you.

“Oh… okay…” she responds, face crestfallen and sad eyes looking at her feet and you almost scowl. She’s doing this on purpose! She knows it’s a tradition between the two of you and by acting like this she hopes Jimin will bail out on you.

Well, joke’s on her, because that won’t work on-.

“But, I’m sure Y/N won’t mind if we do that some other time!”

You freeze. Did he just-? No, Jimin wouldn’t. But the smile on his lips, so hopeful, says otherwise.

You can feel everyone staring at you, waiting for an answer. Do they seriously expect you to be fine with this?! Jimin knows how much this means to you, what it exactly means about your state of mind right now! Is he seriously about to blow you off?!

Ana is staring at you with alarm, sensing you’re about to explode, warning you against it. She knows it’ll just hurt Jimin and you know that too, but what about you?

You ignore her stare, opening your mouth to give a piece of your mind when you meet Jimin’s eyes.

There’s no sign of ulterior motives in their familiar brown, just expectation as your best friend waits for the answer. You forget what you wanted to say and you just stare back. Why is it so damn difficult to say no to him?

A few seconds pass and Jimin, having sensed your hesitation, opens his mouth with a sigh. “Nevermind, we can just-”

“It’s fine! You can go!” you exclaim surprising everyone including yourself. Jimin turns to look at you flabbergasted but you just smile at him. You don’t know what drove you to do that. You just couldn’t bear to hear the disappointment in his voice while knowing you’re the one causing it.

“Are you sure…?” his voice is cautious, not wanting to go if it means it’ll get you even a little bit uncomfortable. Sweet Jimin, always thinking about others’ feelings. You smile again to spare his feelings, disregarding completely your own.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you reply and the sweetest smile takes over his lips, making all of this seem worth it.

“Great! Thank you!” he says, rushing to press a quick kiss to your forehead, taking you by surprise before turning to Dinah, “Just lemme grab some stuff,” he disappears down the hall into his room.

He reappears a few minutes later with a small bag over his shoulders, the smile still present on his lips.

“Ready to go?” Dinah asks as Jimin gives her a peck on the cheek and nods.

“See you tomorrow, guys. Y/N, again thank you,” he waves at all of you and flashes you a smile. You smile back, waving as well as he exits the apartment first.

Dinah though stops before walking out the door and then she turns to you with a grateful smile.

“Y/N, thanks for that, I knew he wasn’t gonna come if you weren’t okay with it. And I’m sorry for stealing him away. Have a good night,” she addresses you before moving to exit the apartment.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome…” you reply and as soon as the door closes behind her you continue, “...you little bitch!” you move wildly to get out of the couch after her at that blatant display of her having Jimin wrapped around her little finger, while Hoseok and Seokjin are immediately trying to hold you back.

She did that on purpose! She knew what that movie represented, she just wanted to spite you! You don’t care how sincere she looked, she did that on purpose!

“Hey, hey, calm down, they’re gone!” Ana steps in front of you to calm you down and slowly your breaths even out. Your tired limbs fall lifelessly on the couch, not anymore resisting Hoseok’s and Seokjin’s hold.

Once you’ve calmed down, all of them stare at you cautiously. You hate that. You hate the pity in their eyes, you hate how they know exactly how much this hurts you, you hate feeling like you need their help.

You hate feeling vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” you snap, shaking their arms off, even if your own still have a slight tremble and you stand up.

They exchange stares and you press your lips together as you stare at the ceiling. Taking a deliberately slow breath to control your trembling.

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, your tone final, not waiting to hear their responses before you leave the living room for the safety of your own room.

None of them makes an attempt to follow you and you’re grateful for that at least.

You stomp into your room, closing the door loudly before grabbing your laptop and sit on your bed with a huff.

You don’t need Jimin to watch Space Jam and feel good afterwards! It’s the movie that makes you feel okay, not the person you’re watching it with. That’s what you try to convince yourself as you search for the movie on Netflix.

But as you sit there fuming through the first few minutes of the film, you can’t concentrate. You feel pushed aside as if you don’t matter, from none other than your best friend.

You press pause and with a sigh, you push the laptop aside. Tonight wasn’t supposed to go like this. You were supposed to watch your favourite movie with your best friend, to make jokes and laugh with Bugs Bunny, to feel better for once in the entirety of the last month. To feel comforted and safe in the presence of your best friend instead of moping miserably on top of your bed and feeling worse than before.

Instead, you grab your phone from your nightstand, scrolling through media in a poor attempt to distract yourself.

That’s how you spend your Thursday night and before you realize it you fall asleep with your phone still on your hands.

“Y/N. Y/N, wake up…” a soft voice brings you back from your slumber and you sleepily open your eyes to see Jimin hunched over you with a small, tender smile.

“What… What time is it?” you mumble, rubbing at your eyes and Jimin’s smile widens ever so slightly.

“It’s twelve past one. Come on get up, you’ll be dying in the morning if you sleep like this…” he responds quietly, urging you to abandon your current sleeping position for one that is more comfortable under the warmth of your covers. You’ve been curled up like a cat next to your laptop that’s still paused on Space Jam.

Jimin’s careful eyes flee to the screen, only for a second before they return to you, ever so gentle.

“Oh, okay then…” you mumble kinda dumbly in your sleep-infused haze and Jimin looks at you expectantly for a moment too long before he pushes you further across the mattress, to leave what you belatedly realize is more space for him.

“Scout over…” he whines, voice still quiet and you look at him perplexed. Why does he wanna sleep here, he has his own bed.

“Why?” you ask, purely confused and not at all hurt by the previous incident as Jimin expected but nonetheless his smile saddens before he stares shyly at your duvet.

“I was thinking, perhaps, we could still see the movie if you’re not too tired…” he mumbles, eyes wide effectively nailing the “puppy stare” he’s infamous for and naturally you find resolve crumbling. The previous anger is long gone when you stare at him so you smile back as you move aside and draw the covers for him to get under.

“Get here, you rascal,” you whisper back and his smile matches yours when he obeys and climbs in, dragging the laptop forward to restart the movie.

The both of you get comfortable against your headboard, Jimin’s arm hanging loosely around your shoulders as you watch Michael Jordan get sucked down a golf hole to the Looney Tune’s world.

The truth is you’re extremely tired and you most probably will fall asleep during the movie but you don’t mind sitting next to Jimin as the movie plays in the background and you bask in his warmth. Because at last, you feel the raging sea of your thoughts subside. Your mind is once again calm and serene, all your worries thrown aside in the favor of this one moment that makes you feel content.

Ana’s warning faintly echoes through your head but the words are not enough to dampen your mood or make you spend a little more of your focus on them, even though Jimin’s arms feel safe. Feel like home.

A small smile stretches your lips. Even when you feel your eyes heavy with sleep, you still snuggle closer to your best friend.

{Jimin’s POV}

He’s a terrible, terrible friend.

The thought repeats inside the crevices of Jimin’s mind like mockery as he drives. His fingers tap against the leather of the steering wheel impatiently, matching his haywire of thoughts in a weird kind of fucked up way.

He shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have made the subtle request in the first place. He knew you needed him, how could he not? It was stupid and selfish of him to leave you behind when you needed him.

But when Dinah gave him a distraction, a way to keep himself occupied… that’s what he wanted. Right? A distraction from everything, something to keep his mind off of things, to keep him from making any mistakes.

But even as he was lying on Dinah’s couch he couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how he left you behind in a time he knew was difficult for you just so he can finally breathe freely, focus on something else other than-.

Dinah was good at that. Making him forget.

But as awful of a friend he was, he’s apparently an even worse boyfriend.

When his thoughts got too much to handle, too much for him to ignore and pretend he didn’t feel any remorse for abandoning you, he left Dinah’s with an excuse. It was a stupid one, he knew, she knew but still, she let him go. Because, as much as she made Jimin go through before, she changed. Jimin could recognize that in the way she acted, the way she talked, even the way she kissed him. That’s why he gave her a second chance in the first place.

And then he goes and probably ruins it by being the worst boyfriend. A stupid decision really.

He parks his car in front of their building and he locks with a sigh.

It’s late, too late for you to still be awake. And if you are awake at such an hour, it’ll probably be because you’re writing and you most likely won’t want to be disturbed.

But Jimin can’t help it. His guilt is killing him, eating him up from the inside so he has to at least check.

When he softly taps on your door and gets no reply, he pushes it open.

He finds you fast asleep, curled up on top of your covers, phone still on your hands and laptop still open next to your form.

He smiles softly at the image before he approaches you quietly, taking the phone from your hands to place on your nightstand before he wakes you up.

“Y/N. Y/N, wake up…” he whispers softly, unable to keep the smile away from his lips at your adorable sleeping form. Waking you up is a necessary evil; otherwise, the next morning will consist of your sore muscles and your grumpy behaviour in all its glory.

“What… What time is it?” you ask quite drowsily and Jimin is relieved to see no sign of hurt in your voice. Nothing that exposes any malice or grudge hold against him.

“It’s twelve past one. Come on, get up, you’ll be dying in the morning if you sleep like that…” Jimin pushes you softly to move under the covers when his eyes find the screen of your laptop.

Paused in the first few minutes of Space Jam.

His chest constricts uncomfortably and he moves his eyes away in shame. The pain in his chest can only feel like a blade has impaled him with all the implications of how much of an awful friend he is. God, great job, Jimin.

But as you move over your mattress and under the covers, completely serene and calm, Jimin decides to make it up to you.

Towards the end of the movie Jimin realizes you’ve fallen asleep.

You’ve been quiet for a while now but it isn’t until he turns to point something out that he realises your eyes are closed.

You’re breathing slowly, snuggled up next to him, face pressed into the pillow as your chest rises and falls ever so gently.

His lips stretch into a smile, pushing a stray hair out of your face. He picks up the duvet to properly cover you and the movement makes you shift closer to him, to press your face on his side as if searching for him even in your sleep.

His smile widens. And then it falls.

God, he wants to-.

He stops the thought before it emerges.

His movements are deliberately slow and as quiet as they can be as he gets out of bed. He closes your laptop, leaving it on top of your desk before he walks to the door.

He stops then. He turns to take one last look at you and then he leaves.

{Y/N’s POV}

Next morning you wake up feeling fully rested.

You rub the sleepiness off your eyes before sitting up, hands landing on your soft covers, toes on the cold floor and you wiggle them back to life as you stretch your back with an appreciative moan.

You check your phone for the time, shocked when you find it’s too early for anyone to be awake on a Friday morning and you contemplate diving back into the haven of your covers. But the truth is you don't feel sleepy anymore and you were never the person to loll around in bed either.

So with one last yawn, you put on your slippers and make way to your kitchen. Since you’re the first one up, you could cook breakfast for the boys, reminding them of how much of a good roommate you are and riding them with guilt about the fact both of them haven’t bought any popcorn this last week.

Oh, maybe eggs and bacon? They’d love that! And plus, the tastier the recipe, the more prominent the guilt. You’ll have popcorn to spare for the rest of the year.

But as you make the turn for the kitchen, someone else is already banging pots and whisks in their attempt to concoct a delicious breakfast.

Jimin’s humming some song, whisking some batter as a pan rests on top of the stove, eggs already crackling on top of the boiling oil and the smell fills your nostrils as you get closer.

Dammit, no free popcorn for you. But at least you won’t have to cook.

“God, that smells amazing…” you comment as you take a seat on the kitchen island and Jimin turns around, eyes wide in reaction to the sudden noise but quickly smirks once it realizes it’s just you.

“Morning to you too,” he chuckles with a roll of his eyes as the whisk never stops moving in his hands. He quickly looks back on the stove when the crackling gets louder and he puts aside the batter with a curse to inspect the eggs.

“Want some help?” you can’t help the soft smile on your face, surprisingly ready to step up and aid his ministrations despite feeling relieved earlier of not having to cook.

He blows a stray hair out of his eyes before he relents. “Please.”

With a giggle, you abandon your spot to help the poor man as Jimin finally finds some time to drink some water. “Where do you want me, chief?” you ask with your hands on your waist.

Jimin chokes on his water, coughing uncontrollably and worry fills you as you’re quick to pat him on the back.

“Hey, easy with the water bud!” you joke and once his coughing stops he gives you a weak smile.

“Got it. Um, you could whisk the batter as I fry the bacon. It needs some more stirring…” he turns to take the done eggs out of the pan, face red from the coughing fit and you mumble a quick confirmation before taking a hold of the whisk.

The kitchen is then filled with the sounds of your whisking and the crackling of the oil in the pan, as Jimin continues humming that unfamiliar song. You gather your hair up in a ponytail to get them out of the way as you continue whisking next to Jimin. It’s been a long time since the two of you have been like this; cooking together, spending time next to one another and still feel close even when you say nothing. The comfortable silence stretches around you as sun rays lighten up the space, hitting at all the right spots to illuminate the two of you.

Your eyes move on their own accord, fleeting to Jimin’s concentrated face as he adds another bacon strip. His brown eyes are focused on the task ahead, eyebrows scrunching whenever a particularly loud crackling sound emerges and your lips move into shaping an involuntarily smile. The sun streams run through his hair, flecks of dust floating in the air around him, almost like a halo, bathing him in an almost ethereal glow. As if you’re his lover and he makes you breakfast after spending the night together, tangled between the sheets.

Your mind short-circuits and you blink when the thought catches up with your reason.

What the fuck was that?

At that moment Jimin leans almost too close to your face, as he ducks to avoid some oil spitting out of the pan.

Your eyes widen at the close proximity and you suck in a breath, realising your mistake as soon as his natural scent infiltrates your lungs.

God, he smells so good. It reminds you of the fresh scent of rain and flowers and something so obviously him.

Jimin leans away immediately and you almost lean forward.

Y/N, what the fuck?

His smile is blinding. “Sorry…” he says before taking out the bacon strips, and you shake your head to get the weird thoughts out of your mind.

“It’s fine…” you mutter, returning your eyes to the batter.

Suddenly very aware of Jimin next to you.

After you’re done with cooking and putting some aside for Hoseok when he wakes up, the two of you sit down on the kitchen island to finally eat.

“So how did you sleep, Y/N?” Jimin’s voice is coloured with a teasing timbre as he regards you with wiggling eyebrows.

You groan out loud. You remember falling asleep during the movie very clearly and he’s never gonna let you live that down. But you’ll be damned if you let yourself go down without a fight. Or at least bringing him down with you.

“It happened once! Plus I wasn’t the one ditching my best friend to go get laid!” you tease him back, although a bit of your bitterness over last night’s debacle slips through your words, the jab at him a little more serious than you intended at first.

Although your pettiness quickly ebbs away once Jimin’s smile falls and he looks at his plate with a downtrodden face. You suddenly regret saying anything, realising how much of a jerk you’ve been to bring it up when you already decided it wasn’t worth to keep a grudge over. You don’t want to be the reason he looks like this.

“I was just joking, Jimin, I’m not really mad,” you rush to comfort him, placing a tentative hand on top of his palm.

You feel at ease when you don’t feel him pull back. Though a grim sigh rolls off his lips.

“Maybe you aren’t, but that does not make the way I acted last night okay…” he admits, voice low as he rubs the base of his neck with his other hand. He bites his lip in thought and your eyes stick there for a moment before you shake your head back into reasoning.

Thankfully Jimin doesn’t seem to catch up on that. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was a terrible friend. I knew you needed me and I decided to leave. Please forgive me?” he begs with a pleading smile and damn it, it’s difficult to refuse anything to these eyes.

You sigh dramatically, tapping a finger on your chin as you pretend to ponder on it. “Say I do forgive you. How do you plan on replenishing those hours of agony I was forced to spend due to your absence?” you say with a mock-strict voice and Jimin smiles, already knowing you forgave him.

“I’ll do anything you want. Consider me your personal Genie,” he jokes, jutting his chin out and puffing up his chest.

“Does that mean I get three wishes and a spectacular musical number?”

He’s quick to glare at you. “Let’s not stretch this too much, okay?”

You chuckle when an idea pops into your mind. Oh, he’s gonna hate this, perfect.

The smirk that graces your lips can’t mean anything good, Jimin realises with a sigh.

“How about a little competition…?”

Jimin’s eyes widen in fear. “You don’t mean-?”

“A Just Dance Competition!” you announce loudly, grin threatening to split your lips as Jimin stares at you with a fond smile.

“Oh, god, I should’ve expected that…” he chuckles, the sound resigning as he shakes his head.

In your first years of college, competing on Just Dance choreographies was almost an everyday thing. You and Jimin would give your best dancing moves and Hoseok would judge. Although after many times cheating and being overly competitive to the point of threatening the poor judge, you decided to leave the activity behind.

“Come on, just this once…” you hold up one finger and bring out your best puppy stare to sway him. Jimin just stares at you with crossed hands on his chest.

“You said anything…” your voice visibly loses its excitement as your face turns a bit crest-fallen.

He doesn’t last for long.

“Fine. We can do this, I guess…” he relents.

“Yes!” you do a little victory dance at Jimin’s answer.

“But just this once! And no one else can see but Hoseok!” he protests, shaking a finger scarily at you and you groan but agree nonetheless.

“Okay! It’ll just be the three of us. Partners in crime!” you declare, enthusiasm ruling over your body, standing proudly with your hands on your hips.

Jimin shakes his head. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m your friend…”

You stick your tongue out to him. “Because you looove me,” you sing-song, pecking him on the cheek, with a loud smack.

Jimin’s frame remains still for a moment. Staring at you as you climb out of your stool to wake up Hoseok and share the news before he reaches out.

“Wait…” his hand grasps your arm, halting your steps as you turn around to him with a questioning look.

He takes a deep breath before a smile befalls his lips. “I just… I never got to thank you.”

You stare back, confused, trying to think of what he wants to thank you for, but as time passes and you come by with nothing, you get more and more perplexed.

“About what?” you sit down again, kinda curious of what is so important to him that he wants to thank you.

His smile is grateful. “You know, for being so considerate with this whole situation. I mean, we all know Dinah… And I appreciate you being so cool about it,” he says calmly, thankfully as he takes your empty plates to put them on the sink.

His words send a fresh wave of guilt through you and you bite your lip. You need to tell him the truth.

“Actually about that…” you turn to look at him, trailing off and unsure of how to tell him you actually, kinda, sorta hate his girlfriend with a burning passion.

“Yeah?” Jimin’s unaware eyes and sweet smile meet your shameful and guilty ones. He looks so oblivious and so happy. You can see he likes her, you can see he wants to make this work and even you can admit Dinah’s behaviour has changed. Maybe this is it for them. Maybe all that shit had to happen so the second time around they’d know better of each other and themselves.

Maybe they were meant to make it work from the beginning.

A lump gets stuck in your throat.

“... Of course,” you smile through the sickening feeling in your chest, one you choose to ignore, despite its magnitude, “I’ll always be there to support you no matter what.”

Jimin’s smile turns wider, radiant and you feel like it swallows you.

Like it’s the only thing you see.

It’s the next evening that you put on your dancing gear and get ready to beat Jimin’s ass.

Saturday is one of the few really free days you have. Jimin has no classes scheduled to teach today, Hoseok’s radio show isn’t scheduled for Saturdays and you’re just a writer with time to spare.

True to your words, you haven’t said anything to the other two friends of your group, keeping this little event strictly between the residents of this house. Although to be fair, there was another reason for the missed invite.

It’s not the first time during those two days that Ana’s words came to haunt you. To nag at your mind, making you wonder if there’s any truth to the accusations. Those accompanied with your behaviour around Jimin yesterday can only spell trouble for you and your dynamics.

No, there’s no way you feel anything else for Jimin besides cordial friendship. Ana just messed with your head, putting all those silly ideas in it to confuse you, hence why you can’t stop thinking about him naked.

Oops, did you say naked? You meant “in all those domestic scenarios where he’s your lover”.

You sigh. That doesn’t sound any better.

Okay, focus. You don’t like him. There’s no way.

Making your way into the living room, you find your roommates already in the area. Hoseok searches for Just Dance videos on youtube while Jimin stretches on the floor, leaning forward to touch his toes while granting you a perfect view of his plumpy behind.

God, what did I just say?!

You shake your head. That doesn’t count! You can still be attracted to someone and regard them only as a friend. Right?

Bottom line is you don’t like Jimin.

“Are we ready gentlemen?” you shot them a confident smile, already pumped up for this.

Jimin regards you with self-assurance colouring his features. “Ready for you to eat my dust? You bet I am,” he boasts, a sly smirk gracing his lips and you snort out loud.

“We’ll see about that…” is your collected comeback, not really worried about the outcome of this competition. You know you’re about to serve him his ass on a platter.

“Your trash talk sucks dick. Thank god I’m not the judge of that, both of you would be slammed to the ground right now…” Hoseok retorts with impassiveness as he puts a video on queue.

“You’re not here to roast us, you’re here to judge buttercup, so shut your hole and judge,” you bite back, the rush of the impending competition already getting you lightheaded, as you stare Hoseok down.

His eyebrow twitches in return. “Do you want me to change the song?” he challenges you.

At that, you and Jimin turn around immediately to see Twice’s Feel Special tutorial staring back at you from the screen and you realise that no. You don't.

“You’re fucking kidding me…” is Jimin’s less than excited response at having to dance the one song you’re a thousand times better than him.

This is gonna be a piece of cake.

“No, I’m done! You clearly cannot appreciate my natural charisma, which is simply a blasphemy! A blasphemy, I tell you! People would beg to be judged by me, you degenerates!” Hoseok bursts out of the couch, the dancing tutorial still echoing softly in the background.

“No, Hoseok, please! We promise we’ll be good!” you beg with not as much as a tiny speck of sympathy for your deteriorating dignity.

Jimin scoffs, crossing his hands on his chest. “We? I had no part in this disrespectful disruption and that should be duly noted!” he rushes to save face. Truth is you’ve gone a bit too far.

“Y/N, you threw your phone at me!” a sheepish smile takes over your lips as Hoseok’s eyes marvel at your completely nonchalant behaviour.

“I didn’t… throw my phone at you per se....” you struggle to find an excuse, “I… threw it to you!” you explain with a giggle once your words make somewhat sense.

“What?” Hoseok’s furrowed eyebrows are a clear indication he’s not buying your shit.

“I threw it to you, not at you! So you could... film us! And naturally, the competition would be fairer!” you say in explanation, making your story on the way though it seems none of your roommates believe you.

You suppose that’s fair.

“I would’ve believed you if you hadn’t screamed straight to my face, -and I quote-, “What do you know of judging you freaking cocksucker?”,” Jimin lets out a snort, one he’s quick to hide behind his lips once your ominous glare finds him.

“Well, that leaves us with no judge and we’re currently at a tie, so what will we do?”

Hoseok simply shrugs before heading off to the corridor. “Not my problem anymore, compadre!” he beams at you before disappearing into his room.

Another heavy sigh tumbles from your lips as the song in the background changes into a softer ballad and you turn around to Jimin.

“Well, I guess this was for nothing then…” you huff out but Jimin simply smiles.

“No, I don’t think so…” he responds cryptically and before you can question him about it, his hand grabs yours.

“Come on, let’s dance…” he mutters quietly as he drags you forward closer to him.

Your breath hitches as your palms rest on his chest, heart suddenly beating wildly out of rhythm. You try to chase away Ana’s suggestion, blaming these feelings only on the fact that he’s hot. That’s all. Nothing more.

“But it’s a ballad. It has no tutorial…” you sputter, panic lingering in your words in a futile attempt to get rid of that unexplainable warmth enveloping you as Jimin’s hands end up encasing you.

“So we’ll slow dance…” is his simple answer, clearly not at all as affected as you.

You don’t know why that drives something ugly through your chest.

There’s nothing else you can say to get out of this without making it weird, so you simply let him guide you.

It’s easy to fall into a routine, slowly swaying to the beat of the music as you rest your chin on Jimin’s shoulder. You let your hands find their way to Jimin’s back, sliding upwards to rest on his shoulder blades as his own spread comfortable warmth to the small of your back.

It’s easy to pretend like this. Easier to close your eyes and let the beat slowly fill your ears, as you bask in the safeness of Jimin’s embrace. Like it’s nothing but another normal Sunday night, and not a favour to you because he left you to go hang out with Dinah.

Dinah. The name brings a pang of dull ache in your sternum.

There’s a small lump in your throat that you swallow away.

You’re just worried for him.

A small voice wonders when you’ll grow tired of this.

Jimin’s audible sigh brings you back to reality. You lean back to find him staring at you. His eyes bore into yours and you can’t look away.

There’s something in them, something unreadable but it makes your cheeks scorch with the attention. Though you’re unable to avert your gaze from them. They remind you of that night, outside of your doors, when you were sure he was about to say something but ultimately choose not to.

Again, you wonder what that was. If he’s about to say it now.

But his lips remain pierced shut.

When the silence gets overwhelming you decide to break it.

You clear your throat. “So, uhm, have you done your christmas shopping yet?” you mumble, eyes zerowing on your feet that step side by side to Jimin’s.

His eyes still seek your own. “No, not yet…” he replies casually, hands soft upon your waist. “What about you?” he asks and you’re glad for the more than welcome distraction.

“Oh, yeah, I’m done with mine. Just haven’t figured what to get for Seokjin yet… You know how he gets about presents…” you mumble with a smile before you accidentally step on Jimin’s foot.

He hisses and your eyes widen as you rush to apologize.

“Shit, I’m sorry, maybe we should stop…”

Jimin shakes his head, “No, it’s fine…” he says, though his voice is a bit stiff and his eyes avert your own.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t stop dancing with you.

Again, there’s silence between you, only the sound of the song wafting through the living room. But this time it feels as if something else is floating through the air. Something tense.

You’re quick to fill the silence with a question that’s not easy to ask but it’s the only thing you can think of.

“So… you and Dinah, huh?” you just barely cover your shaky voice.

Jimin’s eyes find yours again. “Oh, uhm, yeah… I mean who would’ve thought, right?” he says with a surprised chuckle, “I mean after everything you’d think I would’ve stayed clear of her…” he says bewildered and an uneasy chuckle escapes you.

“Well, yeah, to be completely honest, we all were caught off guard…” you dare to say, remembering seeing him and Dinah in Seokjin’s bathroom that night. Only now thinking of his lips on her skin makes your stomach clench uncomfortably.

Jimin chuckles in response. “Yeah, I know. And I’m glad you are this civilized about it. I admit it wasn’t supposed to go this far, she was just there when I wasn’t okay and needed a distraction. She was familiar and comfortable. But then we ended up talking and… she’s really changed, Y/N. She kept apologizing for everything and I couldn’t help but think about how it would be if we tried again. I mean everyone deserves a second chance, right?” he concludes with such clarity and insight.

There’s a part of you that wants to say he’s stupid and naive for believing her. But the truth is he’s right. Everyone sane can see she has indeed changed and it reflects on their relationship as well. Jimin returns from their dates feeling happy and content.

You don’t know why that feels like a punch in the gut.

Your lips tug into a forced smile. “Right… wait, why weren’t you okay?” you ask, finally realizing you have no recollection of that. If he had been feeling less than okay at Seokjin's party, you can’t recall.

Jimin laughs your worries off, even though the nervousness in his features is obvious. “It was nothing. I just… saw something I shouldn’t have…” is his evasive answer. His eyes find yours again and they don’t dare to avoid you. Neither do you.

There’s something tense between you, something unspoken. You don’t think you can take any more of this without going mad.

But Jimin’s gaze doesn’t deter. It remains on you, as his hands tighten on your waist. The traitorous fluttering of your heart progresses and you mask your trembling inhale just barely. And suddenly an unexpected yearning blooms inside your lungs. One that’s swallowing you whole, threatening to take hold of your reasoning, threatening to push you forward and-.

Another Just dance tutorial comes into the screen and causes you both to jump in surprise and break apart.

Warmth spreads through your cheeks as you realize what you were about to do.

You were about to lean in.

Jimin clears his throat, eyes searching for his phone and he checks the time. “Oh, shit, I promised Dinah I’d go over there after we’re done…” he mumbles and you can’t help the slight sting that grows in your chest.

“Oh, yeah, go ahead…” you wind up saying, “I mean there’s no one to judge so technically there’s no competition anymore…” you try to get rid of the uneasiness with a chuckle.

Jimin looks at you with a carefree smile as if nothing happened. And you don’t know what hurts more, Jimin’s nonchalance about it or that nothing actually happened.

“Great, then I’m off. Bye, see you tomorrow!” he says, grabbing his phone and keys before stepping out of the apartment.

You stand there in the middle of the living room, eyes stuck on the closed front door. Knowing he went to find her and your chest constricts painfully.

You place your palm to steady your beating heart but it does not work. Not at all. Not when you keep wondering, wishing it was you in her place.

With terror, you realize you’re in deep shit.

You avoid Jimin as much as you can after that. December progresses, people flooding the streets to either buy presents, meet up with loved ones or visit the Christmas market at the centre, spreading love and warmth through an otherwise cold period.

Sadly that liberated flux of emotion cannot penetrate your tough walls of “perpetual desolation”, as you had once drunkenly described, and paired with the newly-realized feelings for Jimin, it renders you a real-life Scrooge.

That’s how Wednesday finds you with Ana and Seokjin, holed up in a cosy, little coffee house while trying to plan out this year’s New Year’s party.

It’s been a tradition of some sorts for you and your friends to host a New Year’s party at Ana’s apartment, given it’s the most spacious one, inviting all the people you know to celebrate the start of the new year in the best way possible.

You normally would be really pumped up about organizing the event, getting a small taste of the thrill the party would be weeks before. But today your mind isn’t at all able to focus on the preparations. Not that you could focus on anything else besides Jimin since Saturday.

“Okay, I’m sorry but we have to stop. Y/N clearly isn’t paying attention,” Seokjin acts out, his loud whining succeeds in startling you and you finally turn around to realize both of your friends stare suspiciously at you.

Seokjin is just confused, you can tell but Ana’s eyes tell a different story.

That night, after Jimin left for Dinah’s, you immediately called your friend, voice full to the brim with panic as you explained with a nervous stutter what happened. What you had realized and she tried to provide comfort in the best way that she could. She came over with a tub of ice cream, ready to talk it out with you and figure out what your plan was going to be. You also plead with her not to tell Hoseok, the boy couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

So you’re left sitting here, trying to plan out a party and instead wondering what your course of action should be.

And also wanting to tell Seokjin, hoping he’d have something different to say than Ana. Her suggestion was not what you wanted to hear. Not in the slightest.

“What’s going on?” the man in question asks once he deciphers the mild look of despair in your eyes, voice a tad more empathetic than before.

Your eyes find Ana’s.

She lets out a sigh, before closing her notebook. “Guess I’ll have to say it then…” she muses and a grateful smile masks over your lips. It’s still quite difficult for you to wrap your head around this sudden, inconceivable situation, let alone utter it out loud.

Seokjin’s confusion reflects in the state of his eyebrows; scrunched in, twitching upwards as his eyes zero in on Ana.

Ana rolls her eyes, takes a breath and then-.

“Y/N realized she’s in love with Jimin.”

“Ana!” you protest with wide eyes at her choice of words, feeling your cheeks redden as Seokjin gasps in astonishment.

“Okay, okay, “likes” Jimin,” she reformulates although she doesn’t have you convinced she believes this.

“Jimin?!” the man’s wide eyes are filled with disbelief, mirroring your own sentiments about the current turn of events.

You nod quickly yet somehow bashfully as another gasp falls from Seokjin’s lips and Ana mumbles a quiet “I know”.

“What? How? Who? No, wait, we know who,” he cuts off himself but not for long, “When? When did your feelings change? Was it after your one-night special of passionate love-making? God I have so many questions!” his whole form is trembling with excitement, giddiness over the newly discovered news that leaves you sort of confused.

“I don’t know actually…” you mumble, overly self-conscious and yet you push yourself to continue, to pour out everything that came rushing over you in the last couple of days. Maybe it’ll help. “It feels more as if… as if those feelings were always there? Only I hadn't realised them until recently…” you mutter, eyes on your cup as you stir the now-cold americano.

It still amazes you how much of those words are real. You like your best friend and in some way, you think you always did. Though you guess you were too dense to ever really pay attention to that bubbling feeling in your chest every time he was near.

Not until Ana pointed it out.

“How did you realize it then?” Seokjin’s query is deceptively calm and you figure from the insistent nail-biting, he’s holding back to not scare you off. An act you greatly appreciate.

“Well, Ana and I had a talk the other day which gave me a lot to think about… And after spending some time with Jimin alone and I started to observe myself and my behaviour around him… how he made me feel… I realized it for what it was. For what it is…” you stare at your cup while stealing careful glances at Seokjin, who looks ready to burst with whatever he wants to say but refrains from doing so.

You roll your eyes with a chuckle. “You can talk now.”

A loud gasp tears through his mouth before, “Oh my god, this is so exciting! I already ship it, you’re perfect for each other! If I’m being honest here I never made a move on you cause I also thought you had something going on with Jimin, oh sweet baby Jesus this ship is sailing itself. It’s canon! I-”

“Wait, Seokjin, I think you forget a very important detail,” Ana interrupts him, gaze stern as ever and Seokjin visibly hesitates.

“What?”

“Dinah,” Ana answers and Seokjin’s eyes glaze over with recognition before his shoulders drop.

“Oh, right…” he remembers solemnly and steals a glance at you full with guilt.

You smile although a bit saddened. “It’s okay…”

“But, Y/N… Are you actually in love with him? Or was this just something Ana said to tease you?” he regards you with wary eyes.

You rush to answer the question, minutes before so certain of your answer, only for your lips to remain shut with uncertainty. “I… I don’t know. I mean I thought it was just a crush but I’m not so sure anymore. He’s all I can think about, all I could think about even when I didn't know I liked him, something he said, or the way his voice changed, wondering what the cause of it was. I catch myself actively wishing to be in Dinah’s place, to be the one Jimin goes home to at the end of the day, the one to get to call him hers…” your feelings catch up with you and you find yourself needing a moment to breathe. A moment when you realize it’s not just some stupid crush.

You take a shaky breath. “Fuck, I’m screwed…” you say, the consequences of your breakthrough taking over you like a tidal wave, as you come to a startling conclusion. “I need to tell Jimin.”

Ana takes a tense breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

But you don’t listen, just like you didn’t after your talk. “I’m not expecting anything out of it so it’d be okay either way, then I can move on at last.”

She shakes her head disapprovingly. “Y/N, no, you don’t know how he’s gonna react! He’s not some rando you happen to stumble upon the same bar four nights a week. He’s your best friend with whom you live together. If things head south, it wouldn’t be as simple as just changing your hangout spot to avoid him! He’s always gonna be there.”

Her words sound ominous and, more frighteningly, reasonable, slightly wavering your resolve but you don’t back down just yet, turning a blind eye to the worst possible outcome even if the chances of that happening are so much more than the opposite. “It’s Jimin, no matter what happens between us, we always have managed to work through it.”

Ana sighs, eyes sad as she stares at you, once again having to fight her way through to make you see reason. “Honey, this is not as simple as him stealing your cereal…”

You swallow the lump in your throat, stubbornly refusing to let it go. “Yeah, but what if-”

“There’s no “what if” Y/N!” Ana lashes out, eyes wide half with irritation half with concern as both you and Seokjin are left to simply stare at her. “There’s no way to tell if he’s feeling the same and he’s currently dating Dinah, who he’s happy with! All you’re gonna achieve now is getting him all confused and uncertain. Do you realize how that may affect your friendship afterwards? Do you really wanna jeopardize what you have over a “what if”?” Ana’s rant is over and finally, you can’t hide behind your finger anymore as her words echo in your mind. Although there’s a large part of you that wishes to deny it, you admit with a heavy heart she is right.

You can’t tell Jimin. Not right now.

You bite your lip as you avert your eyes, trying to suppress your tears as you shake your head, to show you finally see reason. Even if it hurts like hell.

Ana sighs, regret filling her otherwise soft voice. “I’m sorry for being so blunt, if the situation was any different I would be right there with you, being the first to support you in your decision to tell him. But it’s not. And I just don’t want to see either of you getting hurt…” she confesses, as she reaches her hand out to tentatively cover your own.

You let her as you swallow the lump in your throat. The one that makes you feel like you’re drowning.

“I have to agree with Ana on this… I think it will be for the best if you didn’t tell him for now. But whatever you decide to do…. We’ll support you…” Seokjin adds with tender words, that Ana nods furiously to agree with, as he squeezes gently your other hand.

A sad smile manages to find its way onto your lips as you give them both a gentle and thankful glance.

“Thank you, guys…” your voice is barely audible. Then you shake your head, blinking the tears away and slap your cheeks to get rid of the choking in your throat.

“Okay, enough of this. Let’s go back to what we actually came here to do!” you exclaim with a smile and Ana and Seokjin smile back as they open their notebooks once more.

You might be going through a heartbreak but at least for now, you’ll be fine.

After that conversation, Ana and Seokjin took it upon themselves to help you find someone else, even if you told them a thousand times you weren’t interested.

Ana proposed Seokjin could give Namjoon your number but Seokjin was quick to inform you he was currently seeing someone. Ana tried to hook you up with a work friend but to be honest, there really was no spark with Youngjae so you gave up on that fairly easily. But there’s this guy you see a few times a week at your favourite coffee shop and just a few days ago he approached you asking for your number. At first, you were hesitant to give it but you knew Ana and Seokjin were right on the whole dating thing. If you want to get over Jimin, you need to give another person a chance. So you gave your number to Jaehyun and now, a week later after your talk with Ana and Seokjin, just two days before Christmas, you’re getting ready for your date. Seokjin had suggested you had the date at his restaurant and the probability of being somewhere familiar, somewhere comfortable was like music to your ears.

In the meantime, your avoidance of Jimin hasn’t subsided. There are moments when you think he’s on to you, or that he thinks something’s weird but whenever he tries to bring it up, Seokjin or Ana or your disappearance halt him.

The truth is you hate it. It feels awful to avoid your best friend, it’s horrible pretending as if you don’t see the hurt in his eyes when you dismiss him. But you don’t trust yourself enough to not spill anything to him yet. And Ana was right, you can’t afford to risk it.

So that’s your plan for as long as needed. Avoid, avoid, avoid.

Although when the front door closes with a loud bang, you have a feeling it’s not gonna be that easy today. Hoseok’s over at Ana’s as she promised to keep him there to give you and Jaehyun some privacy. So the only other possible explanation is Jimin returning earlier from his date.

You peak out of your bedroom to see him marching down the hall. His eyes stare stubbornly, intensely at the floor as if they try to burn holes through the carpet as his heavy steps boom through the apartment. That vein in his forehead is pulsing, threatening to burst at any moment, his lips pulled into an angry frown as he takes off his jacket. He tries to rip it off with hasty movements as if it’s something tangled to him, choking him.

“Jimin, is everything okay…?” you ask cautiously as he still struggles with his jacket in front of his bedroom.

He curses through clenched teeth, ripping the jacket off his hand with one sharp movement. “Yeap. Everything’s okay. More than okay! Perfect! Everything’s perfect!” he exclaims, even though the irony in his voice doesn’t do much to convince you.

“...Do… you wanna talk about it?” your voice is careful, wishing quite selfishly and guiltily he doesn’t, because you know if he does want, there’s no chance you’ll be able to deny him, date or no date.

He huffs before searching for his phone. “What’s there to talk about? That my girlfriend is a successful doctor that apparently gets paged in the middle of our date? That children need her and I can't complain? That I’m searching for my phone and I can’t fucking find it?!” he bursts before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Your stomach flips uncomfortably in response to the hurt hiding in Jimin's eyes. His face is filled with worries, marking the space between his eyebrows and you want to smooth your thumb over the lines. Your chest constricts in a bothersome matter when you spot his glassy eyes. It’s not an image you like to see on him.

So, against your better judgement, you do what you’ve tried so long not to.

You talk to him.

“You’re not a bad person for feeling angry. As long as you don’t put the blame on her you’re okay. It’s normal. You just want to spend some time with your girlfriend…” you respond, trying to hide the sadness colouring your voice at the word “girlfriend”, as you walk out of your room into the hallway to talk properly to your friend.

His eyes, filled with something akin to shame, find yours and you wanna wipe that frown from his lips with yours.

But you control yourself. You’re not an animal.

“Also, check your jacket…” you point at the article of clothing with a soft smile, and as he follows your advice, he gives you a small, closed-lip smile. But it’s still a smile.

With a tired chuckle, he finds his phone in one of the pockets and shakes his head before his eyes find yours. Although as they land on your form, the chuckle fades out, confusion written on his skin.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asks, pointing to the mini black dress you’re wearing and sudden heat scorches through your cheeks.

“I, uhm… Yeah, on a date…” you chuckle nervously, rubbing your arm, eyes on your feet. “Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m going, the guy’s too hot for me…” you try to joke but Jimin has none of it.

“Bullshit, you’re too hot for him! You always do that, you put yourself down, thinking you’re not good enough, but Y/N, they’re not good enough for you! You’re amazing, funny, smart, kind and, yeah, sometimes grumpy as hell, but you deserve more than feeling like one of someone’s many choices. You’re the only one. So treat yourself like one as well.” Jimin interjects, voice serious and kinda fed up but his last words soften. He looks at you with such tenderness you can almost pretend he feels the same. You can almost pretend he wants you too.

Almost.

You clear your throat. “Thanks, sport…” you respond with a chuckle, trying to chase the tension away, but Jimin’s eyes won’t budge. They seem uncertain as if he’s trying to figure out something, but their intensity only tortures you more and you have to say something to break free from them.

“Uhm, yeah so I have to go now…” you move back to your room to get your purse and coat and Jimin’s eyes finally move away from you with a cough.

“Yeah, uhm… Yeah, of course…” he rushes to say, eyes fidgeting anywhere but close to you as he struggles to open his door.

“...Unless you want me to cancel?” you propose, knowing full well if he says yes, there’s no way you can say no to him. And that Ana is probably gonna beat your ass.

Jimin almost chokes at that, face flushing, turning his body towards you yet his eyes look at the floor. “What? Why? Why would I want you to cancel?” he stutters, eyes fidgeting between you and his door.

“Well, I figured you’d want to talk some more about Dinah…” you say softly, thinking you must have hit a nerve on his pride but he visibly relaxes at your words.

“Oh, uhm, no, don't worry about it, I’ll be fine. Go enjoy your date, and say hi to Seokjin from me,” he responds with a smile, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

But before you get to ask him if he’s sure, or how he knows the date is at Seokjin’s restaurant, he’s already hiding in his room, behind his closed door.

You sigh. Maybe he wants to be alone. To be alone and think it over by himself. Yeah, he’ll be okay.

You don’t do a good job of convincing yourself as you put on your coat and walk to the front door.

He’ll be fine.

20 minutes later, you find your way back into the apartment, throwing your keys on the glass bowl next to the door, taking your shoes off in front of a very confused and suspicious Jimin who watches a movie on the couch.

You take off your coat and plop yourself down next to him, as he keeps on watching you weirdly.

You pick up some of his popcorn, before. “What are we watching?”

Jimin presses his lips together in a poor attempt to conceal the grin threatening to spill all over his lips before he schools his face into a strict expression. “I told you I’d be okay…”

Your eyes are glued to the TV as you feign ignorance. “I know. And I didn’t bail out on him. He did,” you said, sudden interest in the movie piqued.

Jimin’s eyes widen, shuffling on his spot with newly found vigour. “What? You want me to talk to him for you?”

That takes you by surprise. You turn to look at him only to see his eyes stuck to you, as serious as ever. Does he even know Jaehyun?

Oh god, he shouldn’t talk to him.

“Ah, no, no, he didn’t do it on purpose! He just… had somewhere to go. We’ll just reschedule,” you reply knowing full well you’re not gonna do that.

Even if Jaehyun was entirely too eager to do that when you told him you had a family emergency.

Truth is you didn’t drive too far before you yielded and texted Jaehyun to cancel. Thinking Jimin would’ve been stuck at home alone and sulking didn’t sit well with you.

Jimin’s suspiciousness doesn’t leave his eyes but he visibly relaxes. “Oh, if you’re okay then…” he simply says before his smile reappears. Then he goes on to answer your previous question, informing you about the movie playing in the background.

You rest your chin on your palm as you listen to him intently. Absorbed by the excitement in his voice, the glint in his eyes as he explains the plot to a movie he clearly enjoys. His cheeks are flushed, heated up by how quickly he’s talking, voice melodic and excited. His hair falls on top of his forehead, messy and shiny, moving slightly with every tilt of his head when he’s thinking over something. His lips form a pout when he’s uncertain over a specific detail but the truth is you don’t care.

Not about the movie.

It’s towards the end of the movie when you feel Jimin turning towards you.

You copy his actions, turning to face your best friend with a questioning glint in your eyes. “Spill it out, champ.”

Jimin smiles at your words, resting one arm at the back of the couch, behind you. “I just wanted to thank you for staying-”

You gasp, once again pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. “I told you the date got cancelled, I had to come back! Didn’t you listen, you dingus?”

Jimin’s smile widens, looking away with a low chuckle. “Right…” he says, though not looking very much convinced. “Even so… you being here means a lot, so thank you…” he concludes with soft eyes, a kind of tenderness you’re not used to seeing reflecting in his gaze, at least not directed towards you. But it’s not foreign, not even one bit.

A gentle smile graces your lips as you answer. “Of course. You’re my best friend,” you respond in an as-a-matter-of-fact way while you give him a playful nudge on the ribs.

He chuckles, eyes falling to his lap. “You know, I might be joking about regretting being your friend when you annoy the shit out of me…” you both laugh at that, as you shuffle in your spot, “but if I’m grateful for anything in my life is the years you’ve been a part of it. I wouldn’t risk our friendship for anything. You’re the best friend I could ever have and I hope I’m at least half as good a friend to you,” he concludes, words filled with emotion, even though his voice is serene and soothing.

The display of emotion tugs at your heartstrings but when it’s your turn to return them words fail you. You can’t even begin to put what Jimin means to you into words, newly-discovered feelings put aside. What his friendship means to you, what those years spent together made you cope through and how they changed you, those things are bigger than the strict barrier of words.

So, you do what every self-respected awkward human being would do.

You joke about it.

“Did you swallow a Barbie DVD or something? Where did that come from?” you chuckle in borderline embarrassment, as you try to get off the couch.

“No, Y/N, I’m serious,” he reacts, voice stern as he rests his palm on your leg to stop you from leaving.

Though both pairs of eyes widen at that.

Because you never changed out from the mini black dress and when you moved earlier the fabric had ridden up your thighs.

So now Jimin’s palm lays on the top part of your smooth, bare thigh.

Instant heat washes over you, as you barely manage to mask the gasp bubbling up in your throat. Your eyes fall to his fingers, not daring to meet his gaze as you feel the warmth of his skin spreading through to yours.

Your heart beats wildly inside your chest and there’s a certain, familiar discomfort in the pit of your stomach.

He doesn’t move his hand. You can feel his eyes on you and there are goosebumps where his gaze trails on your skin.

You let your eyes find his own.

You’re not at all ready.

Not for the darkness in them, not for the haziness and tension, certainly not for the dark part in you that tells you there’s more to them than those things. No, not for the intensity and lust hidden in their dark depths.

No, you’re not ready.

But their existence is as tangible as it could ever be.

You can’t move, not an inch and even if you could, you wouldn’t. You’d choose not to. The heat in his stare sends chills down your arms, your cheeks scorching and your gaze falls to his plump lips, a sharp yet quiet inhale escaping you at just a small peek of his tongue.

And then you swear you feel-.

“Sup, guys? How have you been?” Hoseok’s voice fills the apartment as he steps inside from the front door. The sound of his cheerful entrance has you both instantly jumping away from each other in panic.

“Uhm, fine, we’ve been fine!” you struggle to reply, voice an octave higher as Jimin looks away and nods with you.

Hoseok takes off his shoes nonchalantly, not having a single clue about the thick tension in the air when he notices your outfit. He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “Did you go somewhere?”

You swallow nervously, foot tapping the floor. “Ah, yeah, I had a date…”

Hoseok looks ever more confused now for some unknown reason. “You did?” he asks, eyes moving to Jimin.

Jimin rushes to explain. “It got cancelled.”

“Ah… I see,” Hoseok replies as if somehow this makes more sense.

But you’re too preoccupied with Jimin’s proximity to question Hoseok’s reaction, instead focusing on trying to appear calm and not at all flustered and worked up as you are. You stand up from the couch as calmly as you can. Though you admit it’s not very much calmly. “Uh, yeah, so anyways I should go change. Goodnight guys!” you mumble quickly, eager to escape and you run off to your room.

Hoseok’s confusion is back when you disappear into your room and he turns to Jimin who also gets up and discreetly readjusts his pants. “What’s up with her?”

“Wouldn’t know. Actually, I’m quite sleepy too, so goodnight!” Jimin rushes to exclaim and then he’s off, walking rushedly towards his room.

Leaving Hoseok alone in the living room and baffled as hell.

Your legs can’t take you into your bedroom any faster and you rush to close the door with a slight lightness of breath.

Oh, god.

What just happened?

Your knees still feel weak, legs trembling and you immediately sit on the floor. Not trusting your limbs to carry you as far as your bed is, eyes and mouth wide in shock as you bring your hands to cool your heated cheeks.

You’re not crazy, you couldn’t have imagined this. You swear it wasn’t just your wishful thinking. No matter how much you want this, there’s no way your mind could have imagined such an intense way of staring. His eyes seemed like black holes, swallowing you whole and you would’ve gladly let him if Hoseok hadn’t interrupted.

Which reminds you. Right before Hoseok walked in you’re certain you felt the edges of his fingertips moving. And not away, as if belatedly realizing of his slip up.

Moving upwards.

“Fuck…” is your breathless realization, biting your lip as heat pools between your thighs. Making you reminisce of your little rendez-vous eight months ago and all the ways he made you feel, of how he felt pressed against you, inside you, drawing moans out of your lips as if it was the last thing he’d ever do.

How his mouth felt against your skin.

You slap some sense into yourself.

No! What were you thinking?! What was he thinking?! He has a girlfriend! A girlfriend whose sudden departure had him feeling upset merely hours ago. Maybe this behaviour was just a cry for attention caused by this event and you shouldn’t encourage it.

There was attraction, that is true. If there wasn’t any attraction between the two of you, you wouldn’t have slept together all those months ago in the first place. But this is not the time, nor the place. Not when he has a girlfriend and not when your feelings are so much more than just that.

It’s bad news and you gotta do your best to nip it in the bud. Crush it before the frustration gets any stronger and threatens to take hold of your sanity.

You let a deep breath infiltrate your lungs. As if the fresh air could bring a new sense of logic, resolve and determination to help you get through this unscathed.

You get up off the floor to get ready for sleep.

Only, it’s close to 4 am and you still can’t sleep.

You fuss around in your bed, the rustling of the sheets the only sound breaking the otherwise calm serenity of your dark bedroom.

You huff in annoyance, throwing the covers off of you, suddenly too warm for your liking. You’ve been trying to sleep for three hours now, but instead of blissful numbness, when your eyes close your mind is filled with the look in Jimin’s eyes from this afternoon. Turning you on despite your best efforts.

You sit up, back on your headboard, hands crossing over your chest as you tap your fingers on your arm. The shorts you wear to sleep feel uncomfortably stifling with sweat and you shuffle quickly out of them.

Only a particular movement has you clenching your thighs from the pleasurable friction on your clit and you bite your lip to keep the moan from spilling out.

Jimin’s dark eyes come to mind once more.

You inhale deeply, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, now dressed in only that and your panties. You bite your lip once more in thought and concealed shame.

You shouldn’t.

But your inhibitions don’t stop you from recalling that night.

{{You throw another shot down with a blissful smile as you watch Jimin do the same, only with significantly less enthusiasm than you. It’s already been one hour since you’ve been here, drinking your guts to help him move on, and already two girls walked away from him. It might be the way he slouches on the bar, droopy face that screams “recently dumped and still in love” but you refuse to leave here tonight without Jimin getting laid. Or at least having some fun.

“Come on, I’m sure someone else will approach you!” you nudge him playfully and Jimin scoffs as he proceeds to order another drink.

“Yeah, right. If anything I’ll just make a fool of myself again…” he grumbles, eyes focused on the empty shot glasses on the bar.

You throw an arm around his shoulders, determined to cheer him up. “Well, it’s because you’ve gotten rusty, bud! Give it some time, you’ll get better!” you observe vigorously, poking his cheek but the gloom expression doesn’t abandon him.

“I don’t think I will…” he mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear, but you do.

“What? Why?” your perplexion is audible in your words and Jimin lets out a breath.

“I just… I don’t get why would anyone bother to approach me. What’s there to like anyway…?” he admits quietly. His eyes avoid yours but you can see the sorrow, the defeat lacing their edges. The response fills you with unbridled rage over how her insistent verbal abuse has seeped into his mind and made him question himself and his worth like this.}}

Even now, that rage hasn’t subsided completely, finding yourself getting pissed at how much his previous relationship with Dinah had ruined him.

{{“Follow me for a second,” you say through gritted teeth as you drag him out of his stool to a more quiet place of the bar.

You step into the hallway that leads to the rooftop with a pretty begrudging Jimin trailing after you. The corridor is currently devoid of people, hence rendering it the perfect spot for what you're about to say.

“Why are we here?” Jimin asks like a weary teenager, crossing his arms on his chest as he rests his body on the wall.

“We’re here because you’re a freaking idiot and people would’ve probably stared if I laid it on you back there! You seriously cannot believe there’s nothing likeable about you!” you scold him with your hands on your waist.

Jimin’s eyes fall to his shoes, a pout forming on his lips.

“Well, there isn’t…” he responds genuinely and you swear you’re gonna swat him with a broom.

“Well, better buckle up soldier ‘cause I’m about to send your princely ass to confidence town,” you declare with ferocity and Jimin regards you with a confused but amused smile.

“So am I a soldier or a prince, I’m confused.”

“You’re both, you’re a prince who served on the front line in the dragon war,” you respond, deciding to humour him, seeing at least that brings a smile back on his lips.

“Is that from your book?” he asks back, a very carefully-hidden smirk gracing his face.

“No, it’s not, I- Hey!” you stop once you realize what he’s been doing, “Stop distracting me! Now stop and listen to me you bastard!” you point your finger at him and his smile shows he’s not in the least sorry.

“People go crazy about you everywhere you go! Seriously you’re the most likeable person I know, I could see that even back in high school when we didn’t hang out as much! You’re just… You’re the most perfect human being ever!” you exclaim with zeal, desperate to make your best friend see himself as you do.

Jimin shakes his head even if a small blush starts to bloom on his cheeks. “Now you’re just messing with me…”

“No I’m not!” you interject, taking a step closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “You’re the kindest and smartest, I mean you passed your college exams with flying colours!” a shy smile graces his lips at that, “And on top of that, you’re so handsome! I mean look at your lips dude! People literally pay to get their lips like this!” an impromptu laugh escapes him and resonates in the empty hall, “And the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh is just plain adorable, but on the other hand girls - and guys - would kill to lick those abs, or have a grasp at your pecs,” you cite all of Jimin’s great characteristics, but in your desire to show him how perfect he is, a slight slip of the tongue happens.

“And your thighs-” you begin but instantly stop, regret filling your mind as soon as you realise what you were about to say.

Truth is you always had a weakness for his thighs. You admit, his body is pretty phenomenal as a whole but his thighs, in particular, are a certain weak spot for you. In shame, you admit you fantasized about them trapping you between them more than once.

But, alas, Jimin catches on that and he stands up straight, a questioning look in his eyes.

“What about my thighs…?” he asks curiously, eyes regarding you with interest as they dare you to continue. You swallow nervously and the movement has Jimin’s eyes glint with sudden realization.

“Um, they… um,” you lose your train of thought as the look in his eyes changes to something darker and he takes a step closer.

“They are...um, toned!...” you say in relief at finding a pretty innocent word but Jimin doesn’t slow down. You take a step back.

“And…?” he demands, not at all satisfied by your explanation, unrelenting and asking for more. He takes another step forward to cover your own, diminishing the distance between you.

“And firm and… sturdy…” you mumble as if in a daze as the predatory glint in his eyes only grows.}}

In real-time, the look in Jimin’s eyes matches the one from earlier tonight and you rub your thighs together for some needed relief.

{{“And…?” he asks, voice low and commanding as he effectively traps you against the wall, palms resting on each side of your face, dark eyes pinning you in place.

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling a sudden emptiness between your legs as your eyes fall to his plump lips.

“And... thick…” you finish softly, breathlessly as your chest moves quickly with each intake of breath, struggling to keep your head straight.}}

Your hands find their way down your body as if they have a mind of their own.

{{“So you like my thighs then…” he whispers, his breath fanning over your lips, a soft gasp rolling off your tongue.

“I- I don’t…” you don’t even manage to convince yourself and the predatory smile returns on his lips.}}

Your hand rests on the hem of your underwear.

{{“Really?... So…” he trails off, smirk ever-present as he slowly moves his right leg. “... it wouldn’t matter if I did this?....” he teases and presses his thigh against your clothed centre.}}

They move the article of clothing aside to press at your aching clit.

{{You don’t manage to conceal the gasp that trudges over to a moan, as his toned muscle presses against your panty-clad clit underneath your skirt. Your hands fly to grab at his biceps and a low chuckle falls from his lips as his face lowers towards your neck.

Your cunt clenches over nothing and your hips buck into his thigh desperately.

“Do you want more…?” he whispers with a tantalizing hum, intimately beneath your ear and a shiver runs down your spine.

You feel his thigh flexing against you as if teasing you about what’s to come if you say yes.

In your drunken and lust infused mind you can’t find a single reason to say no.}}

Your fingers move slowly, rolling the swollen nub between them as a quiet sigh breaks free from your lips, remembering the way his thigh felt against you. Your movements are soft, careful, not wanting to rush it as even more memories flood your mind.

{{It doesn’t take long for Jimin to take you home after you say yes. You drive back in his car, barely keeping your hands to yourself as he drives. It takes all your willpower not to make him stop the car and ride him in the middle of the street. Instead, you only let one hand palm him through his jeans and the other dive beneath your skirt to toy with your folds. Pleasuring both of you at the same time and having Jimin going completely mad with want, a promise hiding in his eyes as he drives.

Once you reach your building, you’re immediately on each other, not caring who might see. You climb up the old stairs in a haze, hands exploring each other’s bodies, grabbing at the tender part, lips tracing the exposed skin until you reach your apartment. Your back hits the front door, a moan rolling off your tongue and Jimin swallows it eagerly as his lips devour yours.

His hands are rough at your hips, grinding his crotch against you, your bare thighs rubbing against the roughness of his jeans as you blindly search for your keys.

“Could you- could you stop for a second and help me get the door…” you mumble against his mouth when your fingers finally grasp at the metallic key in your pocket.

Jimin doesn’t stop kissing you though. “Honestly, I don’t mind fucking you senseless against it,” he growls at you, biting your bottom lip as his fingers dig into your hips.

“Fuck…” the image his words paint arouse you a great deal more than what you’d like to admit. Your head hits the door as the image floods your mind.

“No, we can’t…” you say, still somehow self-conscious, “People might see…” you mumble with closed eyes as Jimin leaves open-mouthed kisses on your collar bones.

“Let them see then…” he responds with confidence as he grips at your chin and forces you to look at him.

His eyes are hooded, completely dark under his heavy gaze on you. He licks his lips as he stares at you like he wants to ravish you and you lean your head down to capture his thumb between your lips.

You stare at him innocently through your eyelashes, sucking the digit into your mouth. Jimin’s eyes widen even more. You roll your tongue teasingly around him, making sure your eyes remain on him, as he breathes heavily and then you let it go with a loud “pop”.

Jimin stares back at you. Tongue running across his bottom lip before-.

“Fuck, okay, okay. I changed my mind. I don’t want anyone seeing you like this but me.” he curses softly, before taking the keys from your hands to open the door.}}

Your fingers are faster now, soft whimpers falling from your lips. Too quiet for anyone to hear as your other hand travels beneath your T-shirt to grasp at your breast.

{{You’re a mess of limbs and kisses as you stumble towards Jimin’s room. Jackets have been discarded somewhere in the living room and you don’t even bother on closing the door. Hoseok’s is bound to spend the evening at Ana’s, so you don’t have to worry about being quiet either. You have the place to yourselves.

“I want to suck you off, can I suck you off?” you mumble between kisses, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. You can’t wait to feel the weight of his length on your tongue and judging by how he’s straining against his jeans you’d say he can’t wait either.

Another curse rolls from his tongue as he rushes to help you undo the last few buttons. “Yes. Fuck yes,” he grunts in anticipation once his shirt is off.

You push him to sit at the edge of his bed, too impatiently. You kneel between his legs, hands running up and down his thighs as he leans back, palms supporting his weight against the mattress as he stares at you lazily, biting his lip.

You let your eyes wander over the expanse of his smooth chest, taking in the sight of his sturdy muscles, his perked up nipples and his sculpted abs. A high pitched whine escapes you at how absolutely perfect he is. You want to ruin him.

Jimin smirks lazily at you. “Like what you see?”

You only nod, licking your lips and indulging yourself.

You move upwards carefully, placing a few butterfly kisses against his chest, letting your tongue roll over his nipples, which he greatly appreciates if his loud moans are anything to get by.}}

You roll one perked nipple beneath your fingertips. A quiet moan comes off your lips in response and you buck your hips into your hand, aching for something more.

{{You move lower, letting your tongue trail the edges of his abs. The warm muscle drives the man insane by the traitorous pace it takes as his chest rises and falls with every breath.

His hand winds up tangled in your hair, threading through the lock to tug softly at the roots and making you groan in arousal.

You’re quick in unbuttoning his jeans, pushing them downwards until they’re off. Anticipation rolls over you in waves as you move to the waistband of his boxers and Jimin tucks some strands away from your face.

You let his cock spring free and it taps against his stomach. Your mouth salivates at the sight. Pulsating veins run down its shaft, its head a pretty pink, tip glistening with precum and you lick your lips with wanton. He’s not very big, not in length, but the size of his girth seems to compensate for that more than enough. He’s thick, thicker than what you’re used to and even if you had some lengthier ones, you’re sure this one will put them all to shame.

Jimin’s patience runs low and a low whine echoes in his dulcet voice.

“Don’t just stare at it…” he mumbles and for the first time since the club, he sounds almost shy. Something which makes your stomach flip in arousal.

A smirk meets his eyes as you lower your head, his hand still in your locks and you take a tentative lick at the tip.

Jimin lets out a shuddering breath, eyes never abandoning you or your movements as you rest your hands at his thighs for leverage. You keep on teasing him, feeling his muscles tense beneath your palms and a crooked smile paints your lips.

You lower your mouth again, taking his head into your wet cavern and a soft moan breaks free from Jimin’s lips. His hand tightens its grip at your hair, nudging softly forward, not enough to be forceful but enough to clue you into what he wants.

Instead, you hollow your cheeks and a sharp gasp escapes him.}}

Finally, you move your underwear aside to tease your entrance and proceed to insert one finger into your throbbing cunt.

{{You begin moving your head up and down his length slowly, torturously and his eyes roll back into his head as it lols back. You don’t increase your pace, letting your jaw adjust to his wide girth, slowly letting each inch delve into your mouth.

“Fuck…, you-” Jimin tries to talk only for another gasp to tear through his lips as you take him deeper. Coating him with your saliva and hollowing your cheeks again. He moans loudly, his hand rolling your hair into a fist, tugging at the roots as you take him fully, feeling him resting heavily on your tongue.

You pick up the pace steadily, bobbing your head and nails digging into the unmarred skin of his thighs. A hiss tumbles from his mouth in response.

You readjust your position to take off your shirt and bra. You then put more weight into your knees to give your full focus on sucking him off. You keep your cheeks hollowed, going faster and faster, a sturdy grip on Jimin’s bare thighs as your eyes remain stuck on his face.

You swear you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Jimin’s face as he drowns in pleasure. His eyes are tightly shut, scrunched in concentration to not miss the feeling of your mouth on him. His mouth is agape as he struggles to breathe properly, soft gasps escaping his mouth instead.

It strikes you hard; how magnificently ruined he looks. How absolutely wrecked you have him, and the stickiness in your underwear grows knowing he looks like this because of you.

Then he opens his eyes lazily, orbs lost in desire and as they rest on your bare tits, his hips instinctively buck into your mouth with a cry before he stops himself.}}

You take a quick break to stop yourself from finishing too early and instead pay attention back to your clit.

{{“Fuck, stop for a second…” he breathes out harshly, pushing you away from his cock as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Why?” you say thoroughly confused and Jimin chuckles breathlessly at your puppy stare. He then moves forward to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“Cause I was about to cum on your tits and I’d rather do that inside you…” he whispers against your mouth and you find yourself biting your lip to suppress a moan.

“Now please let me taste you…” he mumbles seductively as he forces you up. You stand up in front of him, his head in level with your breasts. His eyes stare up at you, wide and deceptively innocent before he wraps his mouth around one nipple and rolls it with his tongue. You gasp out loud, arching your chest against him for more. His fingers graze your thighs in the meantime, moving upwards to wrap around your underwear and get rid of it, leaving you bare beneath your skirt.

“I don’t…” another gasp interrupts your words as he runs a finger through your folds. “I don’t think I have the patience for that…” you stutter, hips rolling over his fingers.

A harsh suck at your nipple has you crying out loud, grabbing at Jimin’s locks. While he drives two fingers in you, without warning.

“Fuck, Jimin!” your high pitched protest resonates around the apartment and Jimin curses, moving the two fingers slowly inside you.

“Fuck, you take my fingers so well, baby…” he murmurs against your chest, his low timbre sounding like heaven in your ears. His fingers move slowly against your walls, just barely find your g-spot that has you seeing stars.

“You’re so wet, look at you…” he brings the two fingers between you. They glisten in the soft light of his nightstand, strands of your arousal connecting the two digits as he moves them into a V shape. He stares at them, mesmerised before pushing one digit into his mouth. He moans at the taste, before pushing the other finger towards your lips.

Instead, you grasp at both fingers and suck at them obediently, making sure to suck all your slick from his fingers. Your eyes remain on Jimin, whose eyes almost roll in bliss.

“Okay. Fuck, okay. Get that skirt off and get on the bed,” comes his urgent reply as he all but throws you on the mattress after the skirt has joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

You lay across his sheets, spreading your legs wide for him and Jimin all but falls on his face trying to take off his boxers, making you giggle in response.

Once they’re off, his movements are more smooth as he steps on to the bed. His eyes are dark, swimming in a pool of desire, never straying away from your face as he crawls towards you. His hands rest on each side of your head, hips pressing against your own as his eyes fall to your lips.

You’re breathing heavily underneath him, chest brushing against him with every breath and you arch your back to press closer against him.

“Do you have a condom…?” you say before biting softly at his earlobe, your hand wrapping sloppily around his thick length.

He bucks into your palm desperately before he nods. He reaches his hand on his nightstand, never leaving the warmth of your body, and grabs the foil package. You take it from him and rip it open with your teeth, too fucked out to wait and Jimin gapes at you as you pretend not to notice the twitch on his dick.

You roll it on him as he lets out a long breath and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Are you sure about this…?” he asks cautiously, giving you one last chance to step back.

You grab at his neck to push him downwards into a kiss. Your lips are rough against him and he presses further, letting his tongue dive into your mouth to find your own. Your kiss is sloppy, urgent, not caring for tenderness. Getting you even more aroused as Jimin instinctively rolls his hips against yours.

“Okay, got it,” is his answer to your kiss. His hand grasps at his cock and giving it a few pumps before sheathing inside you with one sharp thrust.}}

You let two of your fingers dive inside you at the memory, drawing a long moan, quiet enough to be heard only in the confinements of your own room.

{{Both of you moan loudly at the intrusion, feeling complete and utter fullness with the way Jimin is pulsating inside you. It takes a while to get used to him, breathing slowly to help yourself relax as Jimin presses soft kisses to the skin above your breasts.

Soon though his kisses turn hungrier, messier, bordering into bites and you can’t help but moan and clench at the sensation.

Jimin hisses and reacts with another sharp thrust, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull in pleasure.

He starts a brutal pace, slow but rough deliberate thrusts, moving you further into the bed.

He pushes your legs on your chest in a new position, as he leans on top of you and drives his cock even deeper into you. He hits your g-spot almost repeatedly, having you crying out and your eyes well up by how good it feels.

“Fuck, Jimin, fuck, don’t stop…” you cry breathlessly even though Jimin doesn’t seem like stopping anytime soon.}}

In real-time, you pick up the pace of your fingers, driving them deeper to press against your g-spot, as you keep panting upon your sheets.

{{“Fuck. You. Feel. So. Good.” he punctuates each word with a thrust, as they come out in loud, rough growls, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as precipitation gathers at his temples, wet hair hanging in front of his eyes.

You cry out in ecstasy with every rough snap of his hips, shifting your hips to feel more of him, desperate for as much as he can give.

Then Jimin stands upright, grabbing your legs to push them into his chest and away from your own, wrapping around them and using them as leverage. His movements don't stop and he grunts lowly with each thrust, making you see stars each time he hits your g-spot.

He pants above you, driving his hips deeper into you, his muscles taut as he flexes his thighs and his thrusts become even rougher.

“Shit, Jimin…” you plead yet you don’t know what for as his motions make your body move up and down against the mattress.

“What is it, baby? Tell me,” he hisses, eyes furrowed as he stares at your lips. “I’ll give it to you…” he grunts, his thrusts now matching his pants, hands getting tighter at the supple flesh of your hips.

“Jimin, please…” you whine, driving your hand to tap on your clit to clue him in.

He curses again, bating your hand away for one of his own to land against your nub and begin rubbing circles into it.}}

You remove your other hand from your chest to press at your clit as you drive two fingers harshly into your soaked pussy with the other. You feel your high approaching and you don’t dare stop.

{{You scream in pleasure at the added friction, legs moving as Jimin releases them to wrap around his waist. You drive your heels against his ass to press his cock further into you.

“How are you so fucking wet for me, huh? Did my thighs turn you on this much, baby?” he asks harshly as his fingers pick up their pace, sending you into a wholly new sensation.

You moan out loud at his words, nodding your head quickly as if you’ve gone mad. “Yes, fuck, Jimin. I love your thighs, love how thick they are. Wanna rub my cunt all over them, want my clit to go numb with how hard I rub it on them. Want my folds to leak on top of them and stain your jeans. Fuck!” you yelp when your words have Jimin giving a particularly rough thrust.

“Fuck, yeah baby that’s right. Those thighs are gonna make you cum so fucking hard, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” he hisses from above you, spreading your legs, the stretch burning delightful as another groan falls from your hips.

Finally, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming, high-pitched moans echoing inside the room and your cunt begins clenching uncontrollably.

Jimin realises this as his hips move even harder against yours and his fingers are relentless on your clit. “Are you gonna cum baby? Are you gonna cum like the dirty little slut you are?”

His words send you over the edge with a loud cry of his name.}}

You repeat the words over and over in your head until you’re a sobbing mess and come harder than you ever did before pressing your palm on your mouth to prevent any noise from getting out.

You lay on your bed spent and breathless, the memory ebbing away once you’re satisfied and your limbs are relaxed in a blissful numbness.

But, that soon also ebbs away, giving its spot to shame.

You just rubbed one off to Jimin.

And yeah okay you did sleep with him once, but you hadn’t used the memories to pleasure yourself before.

Oh god, this is getting out of hand.

You gotta end this crush of yours before it devours you.

#95line.net #btsguild #bangtan bookclub #kwritersworldnet #jimin scenario #bts scenario #bts jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin bts fanfic #jimin #bts #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst

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yeojaa · 3 years

Text

( TO THE MOON AND BACK. )

You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.

pairing. kth x (named) f!reader. jjk x (named) f!reader.

genre + rating. non-idol!au. there’s some fluff and there’s definitely some angst. general.

tags / warnings. none, except for a lot of emotion. 😐😐

wc. 4.9k

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif as per usual (i owe you my life) and @yeoldontknow for tolerating me when i came crying into our messages.

author note. this was a commission for the endlessly lovely @1088x1088. thank you so, so much for loving this series enough to support it. it was a ton of fun to write (even though this chapter did really hurt). finding my voice again was a bit of a struggle, but i hope you enjoy it! i’m sorry this was late!

chapter 12.

You can feel the difference in the air the moment you step out of the building and into the arms of your bouncing, bubbly boyfriend. There’s something about him today - an intensity that radiates out of him, refracts off his edges like an aureate coin. He’s got the biggest grin on his face - so wide and unabashed you think he doesn’t even need the umbrella he’s brought along - that the sheer power of his joy might be enough to push the rain clouds back. It stretches wide, brighter than the summer sun, and spills light into darkness, chasing away all the spiders. It warms you from your toes through to the tips of your fingers, filling your veins with lovely golden thread, dust that settles in shades of yellow.

“Did you win the lottery or something?” The question is paired with a sweet kiss to his cheek, your entire body sagging comfortably against his as he wraps his free arm tightly around your shoulders and mirrors the gesture. Your cheek tingles where his lips land. You think he might be a wizard, magicking away all the hardships of your day.

“No, even better.” The excitement is nearly bursting out of him, seeping out at the seams that hardly hold him together. How he hasn’t simply told you yet is beyond you but you know Taehyung’s a bit dramatic - loves the build up as much as the climax - so you wait patiently, linking your hand through his elbow when you move onto the sidewalk. It’s easy to fall into this routine: the one you’ve perfected over the last few months. It never feels stagnant, never anything less than a warm hug on a cold day. You find comfort in that.

The sun sits low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the street. They throw shapes across Taehyung’s face, bathing his features in darkness when you step beneath an awning and out of the downpour. His eyes never stop twinkling - like stars against the night sky, lighting up even the places where the rays can’t reach.

“We’re hosting an exhibit for local artists.” He’s trying to be careful, hold himself together. Still, you can hear the way he speaks a little too fast, too quick to be nonchalant. Bite back a laugh when the words tumble into each other, failing under their restraints. “The director asked me to curate it.”

He stops and looks at you then, hopeful and bright and so brilliant you imagine the sun’s disappeared behind the clouds and found a new home in his smile. You know how much this means to him - how long he’s worked for this, how it’s cost him his parents’ affection and long hours that he’ll never get back. It goes without saying he deserves this, this incredible opportunity.

It doesn’t do it justice, but you offer your congratulations regardless, slipping support seamlessly between syllables. Blending the words with a squeeze of his arm, a delighted little giggle that spirals into the air like a Christmas orange, tart and sweet. “That’s amazing, Tae!”

He’s a million miles over the moon, eyes waning, lost to a flood of emotion as he beams down at you.

“I did all the research and she was happy with it and—” A twinkling laugh breaks up the excitement, steeping it heavily in the sound as he exhales a big breath that seems to steal a little bit more of his coherence. “I just—it’s huge. It’s next month but the director’s given me the go-ahead. Me!”

You decide you’d really like to bottle this moment forever, to keep it on a shelf in your thoughts. You think it’d be the best cure for a bad day, better than any chocolate, more comforting than an afternoon nap.

“Of course you, Tae.” You’re matching his smile, cradling his jaw in the small of your palms. Thumbs brush over the seam of his bottom lip, the freckle that dots the edge of his nose. “I’m so, so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.” You know the words aren’t possibly enough but you gift them anyway because it’s still nice to hear. Everyone deserves that recognition, kindness to hold you up like ribbons, to keep your head held high.

“Thank you, jagi.” He sighs a soft sound, all rounded edges and a deep, abiding satisfaction that fills every inch of his expression. It’s still there when he begins walking again, guiding you back to his favourite place with you at his side. You fit exactly as you should, tucked under his arm, the tips of his fingers brushing over the teddy bear fabric of your coat.

“Have you told the others yet?”

“No, I’m going to tell them at dinner.” The pride that colours his tone is shades of yellow - marigolds sprouting between vowels, sunflowers encapsulating consonants. “I want Jungkookie to show his work in it.”

He must not feel the way you stiffen at his side, how the blood runs cold in your veins and sticks you to the spot like an icicle. You play it off well enough, tripping over your own two feet and righting yourself as if it were all just a matter of misplaced steps.

(In truth, you could’ve sworn your heart had plummeted through your feet, all the way to the molten core. You can feel it burning to a crisp, setting every nerve aflame at the mere thought.)

“I don’t want him to feel like… it’s a handout though.”

“He won’t,” you reassure around the strange, familiarly silhouetted lump in your throat. You are intimately familiar with Jungkook’s work - what spreads over canvas in lovely lilac shapes, stark ink bringing relief to watercolour. You know who inspires the evening skylines, the immaculate and yet effortless scenes he brings to life with strokes of pen, paint, charcoal. (Or, rather, you knew. Things could be different now.) Who graces - had graced - the rolls of film, painted in sepia tones until brought to life by a careful hand.

(You have a feeling they aren’t - that they’re just as they’ve always been. Too much the same to be safe. It’d be impossible to miss, even with blinders on. You and Jungkook would always be complicated.)

“He’s worked really hard.” Taehyung’s more or less speaking to himself, carrying a one-sided conversation as you duck back beneath sheets of rain, droplets rolling off the umbrella he carries and splashing all over your toes. Suddenly, the torrential downpour feels fitting, as if the skies have opened up to soothe the burn beneath your skin. “It’d be nice if he just caught a break, you know? Something to give him more confidence.”

He, as well as you, knows just how much of himself the youngest puts into his work. How every canvas, every roll of film, represents a corner of his heart. Offers a glimpse into his thoughts.

You, possibly more than anyone. But Taehyung doesn’t know that and it certainly isn’t your place to say, so you simply nod along, humming in agreement as you wander the quiet Seoul street. (It’ll be busy soon, once you pass from the residential area into the bustle of nighttime and exploration. Not even the rain can keep people away, everyone far too eager to catch up amidst a crowd of smoke and drinking games. You’re used to it though - used to being dragged out by the ragtag group for their impromptu yet regular weekly dinner dates.)

“I’m sure he’ll say yes.” It’s all you can offer as your boyfriend rambles on, lost in his own world

“Really?”

The amount of hope - strung up on fairy lights, dim and yet somehow so full - rings crystal clear in Jungkook’s voice, tearing your thoughts from the piece of pork belly you’re carefully grilling. You do your best not to jerk your head up, already all too aware of the topic. You remind yourself it’s not your place and you flip the slab, gaze trained on the fat that renders out and slides over the metal grill.

It’s hard to do but you weather the storm, quietly observant as the excitement level at the table turns to eleven. With a group of four it’d be boisterous; with a table of nine, it’s a cacophony of sound, rising above the din of the bustling restaurant. It kicks above the chorus of cheers and clattering utensils, as if this moment means so much more. (It does.)

“You think I’d joke about something like this?” Taehyung’s doing his best to play it cool, to convey something suave and reassured, but there’s the tell-tale wobble of his words, the way his knee bounces beside yours, nervous energy thrumming through his frame like a livewire. It practically pours from his fingertips, shooting out past his teeth as his mouth shapes into that familiar boxy grin that belies his delight.

Not that Jungkook’s any better.

On your other side, his hand’s tensing and relaxing over the tabletop, lips pulling and pursing around thoughts he hasn’t fully formulated. He’d always been someone who had to be moving - tapping his toes, shaking his leg, simply shimmying in his seat - but this is something else. It’s as if he’s on the precipice of a realisation, of diving headfirst into his lifelong dream.

(Which, you suppose he is. He’s wanted this forever, just like Taehyung. The break he so wholly deserved. It warms your heart even as it stills it, stutters it uncomfortably in the small of your chest.)

“I’m just—” Speechless seems to be the appropriate word, because Jungkook simply trails off, wonder in his eyes, his expression that of a child on Christmas. “Thanks, hyung.” It’s a rare occurrence, usually offered with that sly bunny smile of his, but it’s dressed in gratitude now, year’s worth of tenderness occupying the spaces between each syllable.

“Don’t thank me.” It comes, dismissive and yet still just as soft. Rounded by an awareness that exists only within this group, a tenderness that blooms and blooms and never withers. “Just make me look good.”

A teasing comment echoes from across the table - that’s impossible from someone who looks and sounds suspiciously like Kim Seokjin - and your group dissolves into a puddle of laughter, the chorus of amusement dissolving above your heads.

This is too good an opportunity, not the time for your selfish concern. You swallow your worry with a dab of ssam and a crunch of lettuce.

You miss the look Jungkook shoots you.

He has two weeks.

Two weeks to select five pieces he thinks will showcase the best parts of himself, the depth of his dedication, the quality of his passion. Two weeks to go through his extensive portfolio, to rummage through harddrives and pick through his canvases. Two weeks to determine what home means to him.

It’s certainly not the hardest thing in the world - Jungkook imagines it starts with the words Jeon and ends with a certain group of six idiots - but it still leaves him stumped, sitting at his desk for three long hours as he pours through folders, thankful he’d had the wherewithal to name things properly. (None of the Aug17uuuuuuughfuck.raw files of his college days.)

It lightens his load, keeps him from upending his entire setup and throwing it out the window in frustration. Not that he doesn’t still want to. He very much does.

But perhaps it isn’t the hundreds of images that’s the issue. Maybe it’s just one - the same one he’s been staring at for the better part of the evening, unable to move on even when he wants to, tapping over his mouse yet never actuating enough to pull him onto the next slide.

It sits front and centre on his screen and he can’t look away; drinks his fill of it like a man drowning at sea; savours it like a king at his final feast. A photo developed with an accidental light leak and how fitting that is, as if all the sunshine has been captured in the single click, trapped behind the shutter for him and him only.

You’ve always been that to him, though. Crystalline and beautiful, with light catching off your edges, refracting from every angle to spell something like I love you; with fireflies at the tips of your fingers, guiding him home in the dark; with the summer sun strung between your teeth, filling him with warmth.

Could he use this? Would it be too much?

More importantly, how would you react? Had your story ended, chapters of friendship folded between flat pages and tucked within a shelf to accumulate dust? To sit among the tomes long forgotten, never reached for, barely worthy of a second read?

Was this meant to disappear, just like you had? What did that mean for him - for his future? Were you meant to take all the possibilities with you, tucking them alongside your cotton candy laughter, the sly turn of your smile? Were they lost to the tangle of your hair, braided into a knot he’d never been able to unravel?

Jungkook hates feeling like this - all the uncertainty swallowing him whole and spitting him out; leaving him black and blue and bruised all over; dressing him in shades of grey that only seem to fade with each pass through the wringer.

A part of him wonders whether he should just ask. Surely you’d answer the phone, sound so pretty carried over the airwaves he’d probably forget himself.

Could he find the words? Would you laugh in his face?

He stares at the photo and wishes it held all the answers, that the light would offer something more than beauty, more than memories that feel more like nightmares.

Half your face glares back at him, a silhouette of the girl he’d been helplessly in love with. Rays balance across your cheekbone and cut through him like a knife. When he blinks, you’re still there but his heart’s all the worse for it, riddled with nicks and tears.

He’ll choose another, he decides.

Finally, he finds the strength, skips to the next preview - and regrets it almost as much as the first.

(This was his fault, of course. Jungkook had spent so long living in a world with you, saddled at your side, two pieces inexplicably interwoven. Of course there’d be thread still, a red string of fate coiled all the way around his heart, hanging uselessly at his side, snipped by hands that weren’t his own, now gone to tatters.)

It wouldn’t matter so much if it were someone else, if the bits of you weren’t so stark, holding his attention like a star in the sky, endlessly bright and unrelenting. Maybe if he could pretend it was someone else, his hands wouldn’t shake, a tremor in his chest from the way his heart bounces about, demands to be let out, to lay alongside yours.

As it stands, it is you - brought to life by his hands, overlaid in watercolour and black and a blanket of regret. The shapes are impossible to miss: the curve of your hip, rounded and warm, peeking beneath a wash of colour; the river of your hair, the wayward strands that curl across your cheek and tickle the stack of silver that lines your ear; the peek of your tattoo, embossed across your ribs, hidden beneath thin layers of paint.

The longer he looks, the worse it feels. A white pith of a lemon, bitter on his tongue, stinging all the cuts he’s never taken the time to seal up. That cry out now, echo the same sadness he’s felt for the last year.

Was there anything you hadn’t touched? Something that didn’t carry you in its hands?

He imagines there has to be.

And yet, as he goes along, clicks through image after image, he’s only left with reminders. Figments of you with blood-stained teeth and scarred flesh, sharks that patrol his thoughts and bite chunks when he ventures too close. He hadn’t meant to dive this deep - lost somewhere amongst the shipwreck of your friendship, a once beautiful thing now rotten and rusted, devoured by darkness. The empty hulls aren’t where he wants to be, caught on broken anchors and torn flags, sinking deeper and deeper.

He doesn’t know how to get out.

It’s absolutely perfect, because of course it is. Taehyung has put every waking hour into this, coordinating with vendors and artists and hardly sleeping a wink. The walls are painted, artistry strung up for all to see, picturesque beneath an array of lights. There’s not a thing out of place, each piece given their due, framed neatly with thoughtful text painstakingly written by your boyfriend.

There are dozens of people in attendance - the turnout the gallery had hoped for and yet still has Taehyung giddy, eyes wide like a child’s, wonderment written into every lovely facet of his expression.

You’re delighted for him, completely over the moon with how happy he is, pride rolling off him in waves that you’d gladly sink beneath. You whisper words of affection - pride, support - purring them into the warmth of his palms when he sandwiches your face between them and laughs so loudly you swear there’s no other sound in the world.

“Can you believe it?” This boy before you isn’t the Taehyung you know, carefully composed. He’s a comet through the night sky, illuminating, fluorescent, lit from the inside out. Glowing so bright it hurts your eyes, makes you blink once, then twice, then another time just to capture the moment against the backs of your eyelids. (You wish you had your camera with you - something to allow you to remember this moment forever, process it and store it in your pocket for rainy days.)

Your laughter comes in tandem, overjoyed for your love, for all he’s worked for and all he’s now achieved. It spills forth in bell chimes, silver in your ears, and you catch his hands in your own, fingers caught together. “Of course I can.” The distance between you becomes nothing, barely a breath passing as you press your lips to his, offering as much affection as you can in the tiny gesture. “I knew you could do it.”

“Really?” He doesn’t doubt you. Doesn’t even really doubt himself. But he asks anyways and you don’t mind giving, folding your support into another kiss, another squeeze of his hand.

“You can do anything, Kim Taehyung.”

He animates, a coin-operated boy whose sole currency is your words of affirmation. Springs to life with adoration in his step, a giddy smile that eats up everything else and wanes his eyes into crescents. Peaks like the sun above the clouds, endlessly bright - a supernova. “I love you.”

“I know,” you answer with your heart in your hands - in his - when they drop to his sides, fingers still intertwined.

He stares at you expectantly, unabashedly, waiting for the words he wants to hear. (A man with the world at his feet, whose heart still flutters for you.) “And?”

“And?” You parrot, cheeks round, a well of teasing growing in the dimple of your left cheek. It spills forth when his mouth pouts, turns this way and that before settling into an expression that’s utterly undeniable, the perfect blend of endearing and infuriating. When you relent, it’s with further laughter, a nudge of your hip against his as he pulls you close, cementing you to his side. “I love you too.”

You’d been prepared for the people (the professionals, the journalists, all the friends and family, anyone who was anyone gathered to attend) and the chaos (your friends - all of them running amok while simultaneously on their best behaviour, biting back laughter, echoing words of encouragement).

What you hadn’t been prepared for?

This.

Standing before a painted portrait of yourself, blown up ten feet and hung in the centre of the gallery for all to see. Full-lipped and grinning, with hands hiding half your face, dark hair piled atop your head and a bandana knotted below your ear. A picture that you can hear - your laughter sounding off the page, reminiscent of that night so many months ago, standing at the edge of the water, the ocean calling you out to sea. The sky streaked in colours you could never hope to replicate, hues that blend and bleed and build into something glorious, beautiful, ephemeral. An arm that reaches for whoever has taken the photo, light reflecting off the sheen of silver, of gold, of the gems on your nails.

You recognise it in a heartbeat - one that feels like it goes too long, as if it’s skipped not one, not two, but three beats - that thunders loudly in your ears the moment everything snaps into place.

(And oh, how it does. A hundred memories that shudder into a single image and tell the story of an entire summer.

Afternoons at Jagalchi, amid the smell of fish and flesh, eating to the point of gluttony. On the shores with sunshine at your fingertips and a hand in yours, endless possibilities stretching as far as the eye could see. Staring up into the sky night after night, admiring the stars packed against the dark and yet always drawn back to the brightest one at your side, a heavenly body hidden within the silhouette of your closest friend.

Your head on his shoulder during the train ride there and back, the quiet offered by his presence, the comfort found in his form. All the little pieces of himself that had somehow found their way to you: your pinkies intertwined, his dark hair spilling over yours, his breath that came low and slow, condensing between you and turning your cheeks ruddy.

What had felt like a lifetime away - seven hundred galaxies apart, never to be found again, engulfed by a black hole of your own creation.

What now feels like it’s right at your feet, so close you might touch it. That echoes in your chest, a spectre living within your bones come back to haunt you.)

“Pretty, huh?” Hums the voice at your side, filled with too much pride - for himself and his friend, for all they’ve accomplished. Taehyung has no idea, blissfully unaware, heartbreakingly handsome as he studies the image alongside you, lets his stare rove across the contours of the woman’s cheekbones, the shape of her mouth, pulled wide in a smile that might as well carry the world in it.

There’s something familiar about the girl in the painting, something that calls to him, draws him in and keeps him anchored. He wonders what it is, makes a note to ask once Jungkook arrives.

Your answer comes belated, disconnected and strange, a voice too far away to be picked up clearly. (You don’t mean it to - try to swallow down the emotion that crests and crests like a terrifying wave above your head.) “Very.”

“Kook mentioned a girl a few years ago, so I think it’s her.” How he speaks is thoughtful, as if he isn’t sure how much to say. Doesn’t want to overstep even as he offers these tiny bits of information - things he thinks you have no idea about, that’s the same thing that lives within your bones, settled like bedrock that cannot be eroded. (Guilt gnaws at you, turns its teeth cruel and unrelenting and licks the salt from your wounds like the back of a spoon. You swallow it down, listen quietly, quietly, quietly and try to slow the discomfort growing like weeds, the blooming of tiger lilies in the small of your chest.)

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung’s conversational, adoring, indulgent. He hooks his arm around your shoulders and holds you close, unaware of the turmoil that turns your insides to ash. He holds you like you’re precious - a sunbeam caught in his hands, just for him.

If only he knew.

“Do you want to see the rest?” There’s an eagerness that spills forth, tacks his words to one another and turns them into a single breath. He inhales all the bad and dresses you in nothing but good, pins stars into your hair when he fixes you with that smile and pulls you along, further into the gallery with a hop in his step.

You should say no; you can’t find the words.

So you follow him to his next destination - to another version of you. Another photo, grainy and overexposed, intimate in its detail. A faceless blur, made alive by light, artificial and too white, casting long shadows where there should be none. It’s easier to imagine this is someone else - a girl worthy of this love, of all the emotion captured within the single image. (Someone who could carry the weight of Jungkook’s affection without dropping it, whose hands would be a suitable home for the heart he’s now offered up, laid out ripe for the picking. Sugar sweet and saccharine, held aloft by a branch that threatens to give away.)

The truth is in the details, though, and you see them for all they are. The dainty thread that loops your wrist - mirrored within the frame before you. It sits evident in the freckles on your arms, the wayward beauty marks sprinkled upon your skin, constellations that should have names - do have names, whispered by the boy at your side.

“He’s really got a good eye, right?” There’s that pride again, full-bodied, like a parent with macaroni art stuck to the fridge. It’s sticky and honeyed, bright with affection, lemon tart and yellow - sunshine streaming past like the warmest day in July. It further cements the relationship he has - that they all have - one built upon years of friendship, of togetherness you cannot begin to fathom.

The guilt rears its head again, roars like an angry beast. You bite it back, catch its tail between your teeth and nod along, unfocus your eyes as best you can. The longer you look, the more it grows, spiny and angry and demanding of attention.

“He really does.”

Taehyung’s satisfied with that, too caught up in his own delight to notice the stillness, the quiet. It’s a silence he overlooks, sweeps past without a backwards glance. “There’s one more I want to show you.” The joy is unbridled, eating up every part of him, and your heart thumps feebly in your chest, kicked around by two pairs of feet. “I saw it and it made me think of you.”

You’re surprised this time - because it isn’t you. It’s not the shape of your shoulders or the turn of your wrist. It’s not a half-hidden smile, the dozens of tell-tale signs that would give you away. It’s something far worse, that sticks to your lungs and makes it hard to breathe, wet paper towels plastered over your airways like papier-mâché.

It pains you when you step forward to drink in the colours, the texture that lays everything in nostalgia. An image you recognise because you have the same one in your home, hung upon your wall, taken by your own hand.

Jungkook in an infinity room, bathed in a million little lights.

Except this is a painting, painstakingly recreated, with shadows deepened and white ink spread throughout. One of your most precious memories laid in gouache.

“I swear I’ve seen it before.” It’s a throwaway thought, more for himself than for you, but it breaks you apart, crumbles the foundation you’ve been carefully laying. It kicks your knees right out from beneath you and you swear you’d fall if not for the comfort of his side, the way he holds you up and inspects you curiously. “Are you okay?”

He looks at you with nothing but tenderness in his eyes; you unwind beneath his stare, sinew and bone unfurling, realigning, forming into someone worthy of his love. You tell yourself nothing else matters, that all the what ifs pale in comparison to this - how he looks at you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky; as if you’re more than just a girl who has his heart; as if you hold all the answers to the universe.

“Fine,” you answer, even as you aren’t, as the ground beneath your feet threatens to give way and send you to an early grave. Even as you cannot tear your eyes from the painting, terrified and awestruck, too many emotions turning your senses to nonsense.

You wonder if Taehyung can hear the tremble of your breath, feel it all the way through into the centre of his own chest. You wonder what he reads into it, whether he worries for you. You wonder if he can love a monster like you, who has kept these secrets under lock and key, tucked away into a far corner riddled with cobwebs and spiders and a fine layer of dust.

You wonder and wonder and then you have your answer when he speaks again, something in his voice that steals your attention, pins it directly behind the light in his eyes.

“Don’t you have this in your house?”

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @codeinebelle

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marvels-agents100 · 4 years

Text

mnemosyne’s burden

the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: cm typical violence, mentions and allusions to sex, mentions of scars and trauma

word count: 5,317 ( aka why i cant ever get anything done )

author’s note: me ? writing ? never thought id live to see it. also the ‘ego’ line ( you’ll know which one it is ) was picked from the brains of @davidrossi-ismydad and @good-heavens-chris-evans

“Have a good weekend,” JJ said softly, pulling her arms around you, “Lord knows you deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes, smile sitting on your lips, “We all do, now go and see your boys.”

She chuckled, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

With a small wave and a dazzling smile, she walked through the glass entrance of the BAU, her blonde locks swaying as she left. You watched her with a grin, her presence being the last bit of light in the darkened unit. Everyone had already found their way home, bones aching and eyes exhausted after the five day case on the west coast. Spencer had already been mumbling statistics about sleep deprivation on the jet ride home.

You glanced up to the office that perched by the top of the stairs, its yellow light illuminating the desolate bullpen. It was odd, how a naturally bright and joyful color could bring a heavy darkness into an already dark room. A sigh escaped you, originating in your chest, as you looked at the pensive profile of the one and only SSA Aaron Hotchner.

His eyebrows were pulled taught and low on his forehead, his left hand writing mercilessly on the sizable stack of manila folders before him. There were no pauses or hesitations in his work, just the incessant scratch of pen against paper.

Before you had even fully thought to, your knuckles were tapping on the wood of his office door, echoing slightly in the large room.

“Come in,” his voice was muffled and tired.

You entered the room silently, door clicking shut behind you. His eyes lifted briefly to acknowledge you, but quickly flickered back to the work before him. Now that you were closer, you could see the lines below his eyes. They were deep and purple, made worse with every letter he wrote. His shoulders slumped forward, heavy with the sorrow and guilt that followed every case.

“Do you plan on sleeping at all tonight?” You questioned, your slightly defiant tone earning another fleeting glance from him.

“You and I both know that you already know the answer to that question,” he said, voice monotonous. You huffed at his words, knowing he was right. Having known each other for many years- all the way back to law school- made you very aware of his sleeping habits.

“I might know the answer,” you sat on his leather couch, “but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He set the ballpoint down and gave you his full attention, one of his eyebrows tilted upwards. “Did you need something?” He asked, professionally. You had to resist rolling your eyes.

“Aaron, please go home,” you nearly begged.

“You know I can’t do that, yet.”

“The papers and files will still be here on Monday,” you reasoned, “you deserve to sleep in your own bed and see your son.”

“He’s at a summer camp for the weekend,” he said dismissively, resuming his writing.

Giving up on persuasion, you stood and crossed the room quickly, resorting to stealing the pen from between Aaron’s fingers. He looked up to you in disbelief, mouth parted slightly and eyebrows knotted in confusion.

“What are you-“

“You’re going to go home,” you interrupted, “and you’re going to pack a bag for the weekend.”

“I can’t-“

“You’re not going to think about work, and you and I are going to go up to Rossi’s cabin upstate,” you weren’t letting him get a single word in, “I was going to go by myself, but now you are obliged to take this small vacation with me.”

He shook his head slightly, “I have too much to do here.”

“And this building, and all of your work in it, will still be here in a few days,” you argued.

“I just don’t-“

“Aaron, please,” you lost the edge in your voice, looking at him with wide eyes.

He had to look away from you, pushing aside the part of him that went absolutely feral every time you said his name like that.

“We come back Sunday night,” he wagered, meeting your eyes.

“We can be home before dinner,” you tried to hide the hope that laced your words.

His eyes searched your face for a moment, his mind contemplating your offer (while admiring you), “Fine. I’ll go.”

You smiled widely, placing the pen back into his palm gently, “Seven o’clock tomorrow morning, I’ll come and get you.”

You turned, steps lighter in the wake of your triumph, as you walked to the door. As it closed behind you, the ghost of a smile tilted at his lips, his eyes still watching the spot you stood in only seconds before. His pulse was racing, mostly out of excitement but also out of fear. Hiding the way he felt about you had only become more difficult after he realized he wasn’t involved in a brief crush, but he was in love with you-

“If you want me, then take me,” you wagered, your voice venomous, “but leave that girl alone.”

The UNSUB snickered, his gun aimed pointedly at the temple of the teenage girl that was encircled in his arm. You stood with your own weapon raised, the rest of the team clearing the house attached to the basement you were in. You prayed that they would stay above ground, at least until you managed to move the girl into a safer area, away from her attacker.

“Drop the gun,” he spat out, and you followed his orders, lowering it to the floor softly.

“If you want me,” you repeated, “take me, let her go.”

The barrel of his pistol was suddenly pointed to you, his grip falling away from the young girl’s neck. She stumbled to the corner of the damp room, curling into herself. Your hands were held up in surrender as he hurried towards you, yanking you away from the stairs by the edge of your kevlar. He kicked at the inside of your knees, making you kneel in front of him.

“If I want you,” he chuckled darkly, the smooth metal of his gun tracing your jaw, “In what way, darling? Don’t worry, both ways end the same, but one is much more thrilling.”

He crouched to your eye level, and you resisted the urge to spit in his face. Instead, you kept your expression neutral, refusing to give him any satisfaction of knowing the fear that coursed through your veins.

“I think it’s an important distinction to make, don’t you?” You could feel his breath hit your face as he talked, a sickening smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He stood again, a bullet clicking into place as he pointed the gun at your forehead.

“Unfortunately for you,” he sighed, “I’m feeling a little impatient.”

Just as your eyes shut and you accepted your fate, a single gunshot echoed through the basement, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. You let out a strangled breath, slightly shocked by the fact that you could, in fact, still breathe. Your hardened demeanor crumbled, your hands beginning to shake as they lowered slowly. Two warm palms on your shoulders made your eyes open, the worried face of Aaron Hotchner hovering over you.

His eyes were so incredibly soft, his hands so incredibly gentle; it made you question whether or not you were in heaven.

“You’re okay,” he reassured softly, his hands guiding you to your feet, before tugging you towards him. You collided with his chest, his arms circling you completely as his face dropped to your shoulder. He was breathing heavily, as if he was holding his breath moments before.

If the kevlar of his vest wasn’t acting as a barrier, he was sure you would have heard the way his heart hammered against his ribs. He held you tightly, needing to feel you breathe in order to believe it, in order to slow his pulse. When your arms eventually winded around his waist- the shock of your brush with death wearing away- he had to stop himself from breaking down completely.

In the mere moments he had heard the threats that were given to you and the click of a loaded gun, he felt a fear that hadn’t taken a hold of him since George Foyet roamed the earth. He didn’t think before pulling the trigger from the top of the basement stairs, he only acted upon his instinct- to protect you.

He cared about you- he knew that- but the pure dread that washed over him when he saw a bullet aiming for your skull… that was a feeling he had only had for one woman before you. The woman that he loved, even in the wake of her death.

And that’s when he knew; the small fluttering in his stomach and the acceleration of his pulse wasn’t because of a small, fleeting crush on you- he was in the process of falling completely.

***

You were, once again, knocking on Aaron’s door, a coffee in your hand for the undoubtedly sleepy man behind it. A few moments passed without any sound from inside the apartment, your ear coming to rest against the wood to find any sign of life. A second knock did little to bring about different results. When there was still no answer, you pulled your phone from your pocket and dialed his number.

It rang twice before he picked up.

“Hotchner,” he said, his voice thick with sleep, resembling a growl.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” you cooed, your voice sickly sweet, “now, as much as I enjoy looking at your welcome mat, I would much rather be staring at the wonderful scenery of northern Virginia.”

He groaned in response, immediately hanging up the call. You giggled, hearing him shuffle around as he made his way to the door.

It swung open, revealing an overall disheveled Aaron Hotchner. His eyes squinted, still adjusting to the light, and his hair laid in an adorably messy state on top of his head. The gray of his shirt was wrinkled and the hems of his flannel pants brushed the hardwood floors, but he somehow still looked so damn good.

You held in your chuckle at the grimace on his lips, annoyance clear in his features.

“I don’t have a welcome mat,” he quipped, voice still crackling from his rest.

“Fabrication for the sake of comedy,” you explained, handing him his coffee and patting his chest lightly as you entered the apartment.

“I’m sorry I overslept,” he began, closing the door softly as a palm ran down his face.

“Don’t be,” you waved your hand at him, “just grab all of your things, I’ll drive the first half.”

The way you smiled at him made him question what he had done to deserve you.

“Sure thing, boss,” he joked, feet dragging as he walked towards his room. You chuckled at him, finding a spot on his couch as you waited.

He emerged no more than ten minutes later, pajamas traded for a pair of sweatpants and another plain shirt, messy hair slightly tamed, and a duffel slung over his shoulder. Without any hesitation, you let yourself look him over, drinking in how incredibly attractive he looked in everyday streetwear.

“You ready?” You asked, eyes snapping back to his face.

“More than ever,” he grinned, taking his keys from the table near the door. You stood, smoothing your palms against your thighs in an attempt to calm yourself down.

“Then let’s get moving, we’ve got a long car ride of early 2000’s pop ahead of us,” you teased, almost skipping through his door.

“I will launch myself out of a moving car,” he deadpanned, “you know I will.”

“Don’t give me any ideas, Hotchner.”

The smile he gave you definitely gave you many, many ideas.

***

Aaron’s undeniably distracting snores were the soundtrack of the drive to Rossi’s cabin. You had stopped to refuel when you were halfway through the trip, but the way he slept- his elbow against the door and his cheek scrunched against his fist- made the very thought of waking him awful and cruel. His legs were curled up in the seat, feet adorned in socks that had multicolored polka dots on them (one of the birthday presents you picked out with Jack the November before), and everything about him just seemed so relaxed- you wouldn’t dare wake him up.

So, you settled in for the second half of the trip, soft music pouring from the radio over the sounds of a sleeping Aaron Hotchner.

The forest began to get denser, the patches of green becoming a sea of foliage lining the road, which was notably unkempt and unused. It was all so beautiful, the way the trees shrouded the ground with fallen leaves, or how they stretched upwards to touch the sky. It was enough to tilt your lips in a content smile, the cabin owned by none other than David Rossi peeking through the branches.

Rolling to a stop in front of the wooden cabin, you pulled the keys from the ignition. Aaron slept soundly beside you- he must have gotten little to no sleep the night before. You reached out and tapped his shoulder lightly.

“Aaron,” you spoke softly. He stirred, but settled.

“Hey,” you shook him gently, “sleepy head, we’re here.”

“A little… longer,” he grumbled out, his words slurred and breathy, eyes never opening.

You leaned over the center console so you could whisper in his ear, “I will personally drag you out of this car, Hotchner, whether you are willing or not.”

He let out a long, annoyed sigh, his hand reaching to run down his face. When his eyes finally flickered open, he was met with you back in your own seat, wearing a smug grin. His gaze then flickered to the windows, taking in the cabin surrounded by nature.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He asked, voice slightly graveled.

You shrugged, “I figured I would let you sleep, I was fine to drive.”

His head fell back onto the headrest of his seat, another sigh leaving him. With a worried expression, he looked back to you.

“You wouldn’t be able to drag me out of this car,” he said, and despite the plain and factual way his words came out, you knew he was teasing you.

“Is that a challenge?” Your eyebrow raised.

“Not a challenge,” he was visibly fighting the smile that threatened to reach his face, “just the truth.”

“Yeah, okay, you’re on.”

Without hesitation, you launched yourself over him, opening his door completely. His hands tried to keep yours from unbuckling his seatbelt, yours and his laughs filling the air. You let out a cry of triumph when a click sounded and the buckle retracted from around him, hitting the wall of the car with a metallic snap.

“I’m… winning!” you pushed against him, his dimples on full display as he lightly swatted your hands away.

“Not for long,” he giggled, fingers finding your sides (which he knew was a weak spot, and therefore was a cheap shot), and tickling you mercilessly. You let out a squeak, pushing away from him, your back landing against your door.

“That’s playing dirty,” you pointed a finger at him, smile still on your lips.

“Maybe,” he chuckled, “but I was right.”

“Eat my shorts,” you playfully rolled your eyes, moving to open your own door, “now let’s go, you can hibernate inside.”

“Oh, I plan on staying awake, now,” he called over the car, moving towards the trunk. He opened it while you stood beside him, waiting to grab your baggage, “I’ve already lost a whole car ride of annoying you; I have the rest of the day to make up for it.”

The shit-eating grin he sent you only left you a little breathless.

***

The night fell rather quickly, the tired sun dipping below the tree line with an eagerness you weren’t too sad to see. The stars, away from the city lights and fog, always looked so beautiful in the arms of the woods.

There was a small flame within the fire pit that was stationary on the land behind the cabin, by the edge of the woods. Head tilted back, your eyes roamed across the constellations, a satisfied smile on your face.

Aaron leaned in the back doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes held nothing but adoration, looking at the way you admired the sky. Everything you did, no matter what it was, was just so endearing to him. It was just a side effect of love, he knew. You could do something as simple as making him a cup of coffee, or making sure he ate at least twice a day, and his heart would be left racing for hours to come. Even then, as you marveled at the sky, eyes wide as if it didn’t hang over you every night, he could feel an overwhelming rush of affection inhabit his chest.

His arms dropped to his side as he strolled towards you, a goofy smile resting on his face.

“Should’ve brought a telescope,” he said, plopping himself into the chair beside you.

Your head lulled over to look at him, smile widening, “I think they look just fine from here, don’t you?”

Your gaze returned to the lights above you, but his eyes remained trained on you. They softened, and he suddenly felt dizzy. The way your features looked against the background of the night sky was breathtaking.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “they do.”

His tore his sight from you, instead looking into the flame in front of him. Holding back the sigh that sat in his throat, he focused on the flickering embers that floated onto the ground. It was almost laughable, how helplessly he had fallen for you. With every moment you were beside him, he just felt himself descending further. You lived rent-free in his heart, and he didn’t ever intend on evicting you.

“It’s nice to sit and relax,” you sighed, Aaron’s eyes flickering to you.

“As much as I hate to admit that you’re right,” he leaned back in his chair, head tilting to the sky, “it is nice to not wear a suit and tie for a few days.”

“I told you so,” you mumbled, unable to fight the smirk that creeped onto your lips.

“What was that?”

“I said,” you met his eyes, “I told you so.”

“I can start walking,” he threatened, his dimples on full display.

“I won’t stop you, Hotchner.”

He stood, giving you a small wave before shoving his hands into his pockets and strolling towards the front of the house. You watched him, rolling your eyes at his antics. Running to catch up to him, you linked your arm with his, pulling him back towards the fire pit. You tried to ignore the way the contact sent a warmth down the length of your spine.

“Come on, Aaron,” you whined, “you’re only pouting because I was right, and you were not.”

“Am not-“

“Yes, you are,” you stopped and looked up at him, still wrapped around his arm. A couple seconds passed before you realized how you were pressed against the length of his body, and how his eyes jumped between your own, the brown hues darkening the longer he looked at you.

A hot, searing blush spread up your chest and to your face, making you release him and step away slightly. Unable to meet his eyes, you kept your gaze trained on the floor. It was completely fantastical, the thought of you and Aaron ever being together. You fought long and hard to push your feelings for him- feelings that had always lingered in your heart- deep into the back of your thoughts, but recently, they had been popping up in your mind more than usual. There was something about the way his hair fell onto his forehead, they way his dimples creased with every laugh, the way his eyes sparkled like the stars in the sky… it captivated you and took your heart hostage.

You had spent years silently loving this man.

You began to stutter out an apology, “I’m sorry I-“

“Hey,” he interrupted softly, your eyes meeting his, “I’m not.”

“What?” Your voice was just as quiet as his.

“I’m not sorry.”

You stood there, speechless and in shock. The pounding of your heartbeat was loud in your ears, your lungs empty and temporarily disabled. He looked back at you with an expression of worry- a worry of being rejected. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, reflecting upon your answer before you decided on what to say.

“Really?”

Yeah, not exactly a scholarly reply, but you were in a bit of shock.

“Really, really,” he chuckled slightly, but his eyebrows were still turned upwards from nerves.

“God,” you sighed, “I want to kiss you.”

“I definitely won’t stop you.”

A wide, joyful smile filled your face, your feet bringing you towards him as your arms reached up to encircle his neck. His hands met your waist as soon as they could, pulling you to him as if your touch was the only thing keeping him breathing. Your chest met his, your lips mere inches from each other’s.

“How long?” You whispered, asking a simple question you knew he would understand, fingers lacing through the hair sitting on the back of his neck.

His knees almost gave out at the feeling of your breath on his lips, “Too long.”

And with that, you crashed your lips onto his, his arms immediately winding around you and squeezing you to him. It was a sweet, sweet relief, finally kissing the man you had been pining over for years. You could feel your stomach leap into your throat, your heart threatening to break through your ribs. The feeling of emptiness that usually occupied your chest had disappeared completely, filled with the love you held for the man that held you.

He wasn’t much different, heart racing and stomach churning. Loving you has been a wonderful form of self destruction, breaking down the thick walls he had built around himself to prevent vulnerability. You tore those walls down without apologies, and he had taken a chance in letting you, and wasn’t he glad he did. The darkness that encapsulated him had become the rays of sun that leaked through drawn curtains, your smile laced in every stream of light.

Pulling away from you, his chest rose and fell against your own, love struck smiles on each of your faces. He released you slightly, your hands trailing down his arms until your palms met. Lacing your fingers with his, you pulled him with you as you walked towards the house, your grin never faltering.

“We have to put out the fire,” he protested, tugging you in the opposite direction.

“Aaron,” you spoke lowly, “I swear on all things holy,” you pulled him until his chest met yours, your mouth hovering by his ear, “make it quick.”

You released him, walking backwards for a few steps before turning and ascending the stairs of the cabin porch, disappearing inside.

And, well, he definitely followed your directions.

Within record time, he was inside, pushing you against the wall of the master bedroom, hands holding your wrists above your head, lips attacking your neck.

“This is way better than what I imagined this weekend being like ,” you breathed out.

His kisses reached up to your jaw, his nose dragging along your cheek as he lifted his head, “And what did you imagine, sweetheart?” His voice held a dark and smooth tone.

“Well, a bit more sleeping, maybe a game of solitaire,” you smirked, “all the stuff old guys like to do.”

His eyes darkened even more, and you swore you heard a small growl come from him, “You’re a brat.”

He kissed you roughly, your lower lip dragging between his teeth. Releasing your hands, he hiked up the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and discarding it with a toss over his shoulder. You matched his actions, fumbling for his shirt and lifting it over his head before it floated to the floor. Slowly, your fingers and eyes trailed from his shoulders to his chest, then his stomach, gently touching the scars that littered his abdomen. He stepped away when you grazed the rough skin.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized softly, eyes studying the carpet below his feet.

You looked up at him, seeing the embarrassment and shame painted into his features, “Don’t apologize.”

He chuckled warily, “Bit of a mood killer.”

You sighed, fingers wrapping around his chin and tilting his head until you could see his eyes.

“I’m not going to tell you that these scars make you stronger, or that they’re a reminder of what you survived,” your hand ran through his ebony hair, “because you have always been strong, you’ve always been a survivor, and a couple scars don’t change that.”

He was still discouraged, and you could feel a pain in your chest simply from how completely broken he looked.

“Look, Aaron,” you spoke gently, “these are horrible reminders of a horrible time in your life, and you don’t need to romanticize them in order to accept them. And, when I see them,” your fingertips traced a particularly large scar on his stomach, “I see a part of you, and every part of you is perfect to me,” you looked back to his eyes, “and you, shirtless, is the complete opposite of a mood-killer.”

His eyes searched yours, his palm reaching to rest upon your cheek, “What have I done to deserve you?”

You smiled sweetly, holding his face and kissing him softly, “I could say the same about you, but I figure I shouldn’t inflate your ego.”

He hissed as if he touched a hot stove, head turning away from you slightly.

“Ouch,” he chuckled, “I take it back.”

“No you don’t,” you whispered as you pulled his lips to yours again.

“No, I don’t,” he mumbled between kisses.

“Now,” your arms wrapped lazily around his neck, lips ghosting over his, “stop stalling and put that big ego to use.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he growled, and he kept his word until the sun came up.

***

It was the pleasant and light chirping of the birds that woke you. Your eyelids cracked open to see sunlight draped over the room, spilling onto the white sheets that rested upon your body. A low groan sounded from behind you, the arm draped over your waist tightening slightly.

“Good morning,” his voice slipped out as a rumble of words, sleep weighing heavily on him.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” you twisted yourself so you laid on your back, fingers tracing along and forearm wrapped around you.

“Sleep well?” He asked, leaning forward to place gentle kisses just below your jaw.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyes closing languidly. He chuckled against your skin, repositioning himself so he leaned on his elbow, hovering above you. The dark strands of his hair poked up in every direction, his half lidded eyes shining the color of honey in the morning light.

“Did you?” You whispered, playing with the hair just above his ear.

He pretended to bite at your hand, “Better than usual.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you winked, letting out a giggle when he nuzzled himself into your neck. He immediately decided it was his favorite sound.

“Let’s just lay here all day,” he sighed, lifting his head from you once again.

“I would love nothing more,” you ran a hand through his messy hair, “but you told Jess you would be home by dinner, and Jack gets back tonight.”

“Just an hour, then,” he wagered, “I’ll drive the entire way home.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you knew you would give in. There was no denying the persuasions of Aaron Hotchner when he wore the dawn like a halo, smiling at you like you were the only thing that existed on earth.

“Fine,” you drawled, “but only because you’re cute.”

“Damn straight,” he poked at your sides, smiling wider when you let out a squeak.

“Don’t even start,” you threatened, “we are having a good morning.”

“Oh, I just can’t help myself,” his hand ghosted over your side, sending a shiver through you, “I just love to hear you laugh.”

“You’re soft,” you rolled your eyes, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. He followed you as your head landed on the pillow, keeping his lips pressed to yours. Arms winding around his shoulders, your body molded to his. You almost whined when he pulled away from you.

He was scanning over your features, a certain sparkle in his eye and a content smile on his face.

“What?” You asked quietly, “What is it?”

“I-“ he cut himself off, biting his lower lip to keep himself from talking.

“Aaron,” you held his face in your hands, “what is it?”

“I just…” he hesitated, but the way the sunlight soaked into your skin and reflected into your eyes made it impossible for him to hold his tongue any longer, “I just love you. So much.”

The world froze around you, breath and heart stopping alike. All you saw was his face, the honey of his brown eyes, the warm smile on his lips. It was almost overwhelming, how purely beautiful he was, with a golden light enveloping him, making him impossibly soft.

“You love…” your words were merely a breath, any and all strength from your voice lost, “I… I love you, too”

He let out a small laugh- a sound you could listen to until your heart halted permanently and your lungs could no longer breathe- an expression of absolute, unbridled joy consuming his features. Shaking his head slightly, his forehead met yours gently.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words tumbling from his lips and onto yours, and God, did they taste sweet.

“I love you,” it was a mantra, a prayer, and he couldn’t stop himself from repeating the three words he held in the privacy of his thoughts for far too long.

Your fingers gripped onto his raven hair, your smile wide and giggling, “I love you, too.”

His lips met yours in desperation, kissing you with a feverish passion, as if he would never see you again. You let your hands explore the soft skin of his shoulders, trailing along his arms.

“Please don’t make me leave this bed,” his lips brushed yours with every word he spoke.

“Not now,” you promised, a compromise, “later.”

“I will take every minute,” he sighed, reconnecting his lips to yours.

And it was beautiful, the way his hands caressed you, the way his kiss lingered. He kept his word, cherishing every last moment with you. If he could, he would’ve begged the sun to stay in it’s waking state, stretching the morning for an impossible amount of time, simply to spend it in your arms and under the sheets. But, the day continued on despite his wishes, and the dread and fear of leaving you was one that settled heavily in his stomach.

It wasn’t until he reached his home, your hand intertwined with his, your smile warm and inviting, that his awful feelings were able to disappear.

It took one look at you- with the way your eyes latched onto him like he had hung every star in the sky, your skin illuminated by the soft hues of the sunset- then he knew, the love you shared would bring you back together, no matter how far the world tried to tear you apart.

“I love you,” your eyes sparkled as you spoke. He thought of the sky over the cabin.

“I love you,” he replied, “so much.”

taglist:

@quillvine @winterscaptain

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #fluff

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chaoticgirl-writing · 4 years

Text

Shut up, Dumbass

Alrighty so here is another lil peek of a book im writing. Idk where im gonna post the finished product but that isnt gonna be for a long while. Anyway I hope you all enjoy this lil bit!!

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Oc

Word count: 1905

Warnings: maybe some mild language, mentions of depression, mentions of su!cide attempt

“Alright, you two. Get some sleep. You both did great today.” The short haired woman smiled softly, lightly kissing her son’s head.

“Get off me, you hag.” The blonde groaned, lightly shoving his mother off.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Bakugo.” The two toned girl said almost inaudibly, laughing when the male lightly shoved her in order to draw her attention from the screen.

“Katsuki, be nice.” Mitsuki teased. “Kick his ass, Aki.”

The small girl grinned, shifting to her knees as her fingers moved quickly on the controller. The character she controlled, Sheik, landed a hit on Link, sending him off the platform. “Dammit!” Katsuki cursed, making the girl next to him laugh, earning another shove in response. Link respawned at the top of the screen and hopped back into battle against the female. She easily kicked the male, sending him over the edge once again.

“Quit it!” The blonde growled, attacking the female character once more. Akari simply giggled, easily evading his attack and sending him off the platform once more.

Game Over

“Damnit!”

“Ha! 8th time!”

“You’re not supposed to be talking!”

“Give me my prize, bitch!”

“Stop talking, dumbass!”

“Make me-” The blonde covered her mouth, silencing her.

“You’ll get ice cream if you shut up-Ew! Did you just lick me?” Snatching his hand back with a look of disgust, Katsuki wiped his hand on the multicolored girl’s sleeve. “You’re gross.”

“And you’re a sore loser. Pay up.” Akari signed, making the blonde grumble with a small smile.

“Tomorrow. We’ll go wherever you want and get ice cream.” He yawned, arms stretching above his head before laying on the girl’s lap.

“You’re a dork.” She whispered, playing with Katsuki’s hair as he put on a movie.

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes, placing a hand behind her back and leaning back on it, continuing to play with the blonde stands.

The male relaxed on her lap, closing his eyes as soft music played in the background. The small girl silently studied the male’s face, losing herself in her thoughts.

Just months ago he had hardly even taken note of her existence, not even acknowledging the fact that she sat next to him in class. Simply staring blankly when his friends and classmates made nasty comments about her, or shoved her around. Even despite that fact, she decided to confess to him, not caring what happened.

Maybe he would say he liked her too. Maybe something would come out of nothing, ending the torment that plagued her everyday life.

Instead, he rejected her, saying he could never be with her and walking away. No one seemed to have found out though, and she was grateful that he seemed to have enough, if not respect, then something close to it, for her to keep him from telling the entire school about it.

Then, a mere week or so later, he found her on that rooftop and saved her life. When the school year started and Bakugo realized they were in the same class, he became more protective of her suddenly. He was always taking care of her and doing all he could to keep her safe.

Meanwhile, Katsuki was stuck in his own thoughts.

When Akari confessed to him, he was startled. He had never talked to the once dark haired girl before that, and hearing that she admired him despite that fact made him feel something that he didn't quite like. Guilt? Doubt? He didn’t quite know, and he wasn’t used to it. Sure, he was quite used to girls walking up to him and trying to flirt with him, or ask him on a date, but he always declined, they never piqued his interest. This girl however, did all that and more.

When she confessed to him, she began by stating the little things she had grown to find charming about him. Things he didn’t even seem to notice, let alone the other girls that had tried catching his attention.

“The way you furrow your eyebrows when you get lost in thought, or the way you gently chew on your lip before raising your hand to answer a question. The little nervous tic you have where you tap your middle finger and thumb together and bounce your knee, or the way you twirl your pencil while reading through a question on a test. Your eyes soften, you get this warm smile and the tension in your shoulders relax when you talk about becoming a hero. You act all tough, but it’s obvious that there’s a part of you that’s scared. Everything about you is quite.. poetic in a way, Bakugo, and I’m sorry for laying all of this on you, but I couldn’t just let it go without saying. I couldn’t let something like this just disappear into the void without even giving you a chance to hear it.”

His chest tightened as her words replayed in his head.

She had already made her choice when she told me.

Red eyes flickered to the bright green ones above him, clouded with emotion as she stared at the television.

Could I have changed her mind?

A lump formed in the blonde’s throat.

If I had realized my feelings towards her sooner-

He struggled to swallow the lump as he sat up slowly, eyes the color of peacock feathers on a sunny day flickered to him.

If I had actually waited before walking away, if I had actually put thought into it there and not after I had caught her from falling off of that building would things be different-

“Katsuki?” The soft sound of her raspy voice pulled him from the thoughts plaguing his head.

Ruby eyes remained unreadable as they searched her face for some sort of answer, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Katsuki?” She tried once more, a soft hand gently resting on his cheek making his eyes soften. “Is everything alright?” He stayed silent, continuing to search her face as his larger calloused hand rested on top of hers. They stayed there for a moment, silently studying the other’s features, oblivious to the fact the gap between them was slowly decreasing by the second.

It was only when their faces were millimetres from meeting that the blonde’s ruby orbs glanced down at the girl’s slightly parted lips in a silent ask for permission. She didn’t respond, senses on overdrive as she allowed her eyes to close and the space between them to shrink even more. His lips gently brushed against hers, and-

Snapping her eyes open, Akari practically leaped from the mattress, the pillow on her lap toppling to the floor as she stood.

“I need to..” Her feet moved before she could think of a proper end to her sentence, leading her out the door to his bedroom and down the stairs.

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” Their voices rang into the empty air around them in unison.

“Damnit, Katsuki, why did you try to kiss her?”

“Akari, why didn’t you kiss him?”

Their hands trembled as they each muttered curses to themselves. Him for doing something to, what he assumed was making her uncomfortable, and her for chickening out last second.

“He was right there you could’ve-” A growl escaped her lips as she held her hands out and attempted to strangle the air in frustration.

“Why the hell would she kiss you? She already told you how she felt and you being the dumbass you are told her no.” Bakugo groaned in irritation as he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at the clock.

7:54pm

“I probably stink from the sports festival.” He stood, pushing his irritation to the back of his mind as he turned off the movie and gathered his things for a shower before making his way to the bathroom.

The multicolored girl sluggishly made her way back upstairs, hating the thought of being alone in such a big house without a voice if she were to need to use her quirk or call out for help.

You’re such an idiot. You’ve liked him for how long? And yet you still chickened out when given the chance to kiss him? You’re such a coward.

She paused for a moment at the door, mustering up the courage to go back in and face him, to apologize for freaking out over nothing, and maybe asking for a redo.

Opening the door, what was left of her voice caught in her throat and her hands stilled as she came face to face with an empty room. The remote Katsuki had been using was placed on the shelf with the gaming console below the television, the one she had been using on the bed where she had left it. The sound of the shower turning on across the hall answered the silent question of where the blonde had gone.

Moving over to her bag, Aki pulled out a worn hardcover black notebook and a pen, before settling down on the mattress and beginning to write.

It was moments like these where she would write down one of those “letters” that she usually had no intention of giving to the person it was directed to. Oftentimes, those “letters” turned into songs, ones that she would hope to be able to perform for someone, anyone, even the person she wrote it for.

This would be a lot easier if I had my guitar or something.

She sighed, writing down the rhythm in a mix of Morse code like symbols and music notes.

Katsuki’s shower finished sooner than he would’ve normally liked, often standing under the hot water until it turned cold, thus being the reason why he showered after his parents went to sleep. He was nervous to go back to his room in fear of what Aki might say, but he knew he had to at some point.

Steam filled the hallway as he opened the door, taking note of the slightly cracked door of his bedroom.

Why are you acting like this? It’s just Aki.

Opening the door, his heart fluttered at the sight before him. The small girl sat with a leg laid out straight, the other bent as she wrote in a notebook placed on her knee. The soft sound of her humming filled the bedroom as he stood in the doorway.

Gently twirling the pen in her hand, she tilted her head back, resting it on the wall as she thought of what to write next.

“My luck couldn’t get any worse.” She chuckled lightly, twirling the pen once more before sitting back up and writing something down, not seeming to notice the blonde standing at the door.

“Hey.” He called softly making the two toned haired girl jump and clutch the notebook to her chest as her face heated up in embarrassment. She opened her mouth to speak before opting for a simple wave. “Listen I-” Fists clenched at his sides as he sighed, looking towards the ceiling, searching for the right words to say.

Quietly setting her notebook down on the bed, Akari stood and moved towards him, her heart fluttering at the thought of what she was about to do.

“I’m sorry-” A small hand tilted his chin down, the small girl placing her free hand on the back of his neck and gently pulling him towards her as she stood on her toes to help close the distance between them.

“Shut up, Dumbass.”

#katsuki #bakugo #bakugou #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #x oc #bakugo x oc #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia x oc #mha x oc #boku no hero #sfw

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hadestownmodern · 4 years

Note

Could I request some baby melody?? I love her❤️

Bang Bang I wrote this on the train ride home yesterday and it was supposed to be soft but please enjoy some minor thirsting by Orpheus while we’re at it.

I literally.. all I want to do is write my babies now because they said Orphydice rights.

-Annika

“Orpheus, can you please take her?” She’s a flurry of activity behind the bar, Melody securely settled on one hip, her free hand holding the bar’s phone to her ear as she waited to connect with a distributer. It’s mid afternoon, and it’s just the two of them and their girl as they go about the tasks needed before opening. She glances up to make eye contact with him, before Melody’s incessant grasping pulled her attention back down. Eurydice grasps her daughters hand in her own, and places a kiss in her palm, which sates her and sends her into a fit of content giggles. Eurydice smiles at her, laughing along with her as she leans her forehead on Melody’s, making the baby laugh even harder.

Eurydice is laughing too, when she leans away, calling out for Orpheus without looking this time.

He looks up from where he’s sitting across the room, toying with some

Sound equipment, trying to get the speaker at the correct volume. Or, at least thats what he’s supposed to be doing. Instead, he sat on the stool, watching her effortlessly maneuver through inventory. Watching as she takes notes on her wrist, all the while never letting go of the nine month old who babbled contently on her left hip. It was like she was made for this moment.

Early summer was kind to him, bringing in a sticky heat that has Eurydice existing in his oversized band shirts, with hems so long her shorts end up hidden underneath. He stared for a few moments, enraptured in the way Melody’s feet kicked when she giggled and the way Eurydice’s eyes crinkled when she laughed with her.

He is knocked out if concentration when she calls for him again, blinking rapidly as he tries to process her question. “Hmm? Oh, yes!” He nearly trips over the stool, sending it tumbling down the small ledge of the stage in front of him.

Eurydice can’t even stifle her laugh as he makes it to her quickly, long arms reaching out before he’s even half way across the bar. “Your daddy is so silly, Mel.”

“Come here, my French Fry.” He takes the infant quickly, holding her high above him, arms fully extended, as he kisses her nose. Orpheus’s lips graze Eurydice’s cheek as she starts to turn.

“Never thought i’d have so many issues with a damn paper company...” She pulls the phone away from her ear, flashing it to him so he can see how long she had been on hold. Eurydice turns to head back to the office space Hermes had created for her, where her administrative work was mostly done. Her work, and orpheus too, was usually done on this desk

In the background she can hear Melody starting to fuss without her, the baby ever attached to her. She’s scribbling on her hand when she hears Orpheus voice squeak out for her.

“EuRyDiCe. Come here!” She leaves the pen uncapped, standing quickly with the ever present hold tone still playing in her ear. Eurydice half jogs down the short hall, assuming Melody’s cries were a sign she was needed quickly.

When she peaked around the corner, she was shocked that despite the tears running over their daughter’s chubby cheeks, Orpheus is smiling. His smile reaches his eyes as he looks up at Eurydice, and somehow he smiles even brighter.

“Melody! Who is that?” He points excitedly to his wife, drawing Melody’s attention with his hand.

Melody’s little fist reaches towards Eurydice too, as she cries out to her. “Ma..” she starts, before the tears start fresh, “mama..”

Eurydice hears the hold tone change to a person at the same second the phone slips from her hands. She’s half-running closer, before she can process the way her face is hurting from smiling so hard.

“Yeah baby...thats me.” Her fingers are in Melody’s deep curls, her thumb running to catch the tears. Eurydice is smiling so wide that she doesn’t realize she’s crying too.

“Go around the corner see if she’ll do it again!” Orpheus suggests, kissing the top of Melody’s head.

Eurydice nods, slipping around the corner at the exact time melody screamed out for her, this time much louder than the first. “maMA.”This time is far more desperate, as she reaches out and cries for her. Out of sight does not equate out of mind for Melody, who grasps at air where her mother once was.

Eurydice doesn’t have the heart to hide from her still, and within seconds is back in view and holding her arms out to the baby. “Hey, hey it’s okay!”

Melody lunges towards her, once she’s in reach, hiding her face in the crook of her neck, sobs reduced to mere sniffles once she feels content in Eurydice’s arms.

“Sorry..” Orpheus murmurs, almost sheepish. “I didn’t think she’d be so upset- but I get it.”

Eurydice just shakes her head with a smile, leaning her head ontop of Melody’s. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve got you.” She promises the baby, who’s fists are grasping tightly to her shirt. “It’s okay..”

Eurydice rises to her toes to kiss Orpheus, grabbing him by a suspender to pull him to her height.

“Hey. She spends so much time with Seph, I’m just glad she isn’t calling me a milf.”

“Well..I am.” He is blushing furiously as he says it, but wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him anyway in a show of confidence.

Eurydice shakes her head as she giggles, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him back to her height, cutting his words off with her mouth on his. They stay like this, lost in a different universe for a few minutes, with the world cradled between them.

#hades town fic #eurydice #Orpheus #orpheus and eurydice #orphydice #hadestown au #hadestown modern au

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padfootagain · 5 years

Text

The Flower Shop Around The Corner (II)

Part 2 : Ray Of Sunshine

Here is the second part of my cute series for Chris Evans! For now, all things are a little chaotic. But hey, you know me… it's still cute :)

Hope you all like it!

Gif not mine

Word Count : 2000

How could anyone be that annoying?

HOW?!

It was beyond comprehension.

And the worst part was that everyone else seemed to love him. When you? You were starting to seriously hate him.

Hate may have been a strong word but he was just… so… argh!

There were no words that came to your mind. What was beyond absolutely annoyed?

Not that he was a total jerk, and that was the worst part, what annoyed you the most. Because you couldn’t just blame the fact that he was evil, as he wasn’t evil at all. There was just something about him that went on your nerves. Perhaps it was the tiny crooked smile that never left his lips, or the way he laughed so dramatically and… actually you could make an entire essay on how his bloody laugh annoyed you. The way he always threw his whole body around, you thought he would fall off his chair everytime. And the way he always grabbed his chest, why did he do that? Was he afraid to lose a boob laughing? And how loud he was and the jokes, for goodness sake, how old was he? Five? And whenever you wanted to actually work, he was always joking around and you could never focus and you were so infuriated and…

Just the thought made your heart rush in your chest with anger, and you had to take a deep breath to calm down. There was nothing you could do about Chris Evans. He was your coworker, and that was it. How could you play a romantic comedy with him though? For now, you seemed able to fool your director and he seemed satisfied with your work. You hadn’t had to kiss him yet though.

Urgh… the mere thought was disgusting.

You were halfway through the project and you really didn’t know how you could finish it. You knew you had to, you just didn’t know how.

You kicked an imaginary can as you walked through the sunny street, your hands in the pockets of your jeans and your face turned towards the sky. Summer lingered on through the weeks of August, even if September would soon spread its chilly breeze. It was still early in the morning, but the streets, as usual, were filled with hurrying strangers. Shops were getting ready to open, the rhythm of the town still a little lazier than what it commonly was.

The front of the flower shop appeared by your side, your feet guiding you to the quiet and colourful place without you even noticing. It was a ritual by now. Every morning, before heading to work, you spent a few minutes at the flower shop to get your letter.

A smile formed on your lips at the mere thought, and through the street coloured in gold by the early sun, all thoughts of your colleague disappeared. Instead, they were replaced by this delightful feeling of calm and joy that never failed to cross your heart at the thought of the letters you received every day.

After giving back his wallet to this stranger, you had, for some unknown reason, listened to the florist and came back the next day. And he had indeed left you another note. So you replied. And he replied back… and on and on the notes turned into letters and now every morning you got a letter from him and left your answer for him to find in the evening. It had been going on for weeks now, through the whole summer actually. And it was your favourite thing in New York now.

Why had it turned so important to you? Perhaps it was the mere thrill of writing to a perfect stranger. After all, you had never met, you had no idea how old he was or what he looked like, you didn’t even know clearly what was his job. You didn’t even know his name. He always signed his letters by The Wallet Guy, and you signed with The Peonies Girl. And that was enough. For now at least, it was.

In contrast, you were talking about more intimate things that you would have done with even your friends. It was the final proof that sometimes, it was easier to speak to a perfect stranger than to your dearest friend. You just needed to find the right ear to whisper to. And you found it in the Wallet Guy, clearly.

You knocked on the glass door of the flower shop. It was too early for the store to be open, but it had never been an issue. The merry owner always let you in, excited to play her part in this game between two strangers.

A game… it was turning into much more than a mere game for you though. After all, you were so fond of this new friend of yours. He was charming, funny, delicate, such a good listener and adviser, grounded, fragile…

With a snort, you thought he was quite the opposite to your colleague.

But you pushed the thought of Chris away once more, and instead, knocked on the front door for Carlotta to unlock the door.

As she did everyday, she opened the door with a grin and invited you inside.

She didn’t lose any time, and reached on the counter to collect the red envelope your stranger had left for you. Upon the crimson paper, the words Peonies Girl were traced in a tiny and nervous handwriting that by now you could have recognized anywhere.

"He rewrote it three times. Three times!" Carlotta excitedly told you.

You leaned against the wooden counter and tore the envelope open without further wasted moment, but you couldn’t refrain the shy smile her remark brought to your lips.

You had barely read a couple of words that you felt all your worries vanish, and your shy smile widened and turned into a bright one.

Dear Peony,

I like this nickname of yours. It suits you well. It breathes summer warmth and a soft joy that turns people peaceful.

I understand how it feels to miss home. I’m not so far from Boston and yet I would do anything to go there and have a meal on Sunday with all my family. Even my dog misses it. I can see it. No, of course I am not simply using him as an ally just to prove a point. He really misses it. He told me this very morning.

I’m sorry to hear that you are having troubles with your colleague. But we all have people around us we don’t get along with. Just… try not to punch him, would you? Besides, who knows, perhaps he’s not as bad as he seems. Perhaps it just takes a little time for the two of you to get to know each other. As a proof, a colleague of mine said today that I was childish and unprofessional. Now, to a certain extent I wouldn’t care, but I don’t know why her words really went straight to my heart. I don’t know why I care so much, we don’t even like each other, quite the opposite, actually. A little bit like you and your own colleague, I guess. But coming from her it felt painful. Perhaps it’s because she is talented. I don’t think I’ll understand this reaction of mine. Perhaps it’s just my brain making too many thoughts again. I have to admit that I'm quite stressed these days, and I struggle a little more than usual with my own thoughts.

The news this morning have me horrified. Once more, I know, and one might think that by now I’m used to it, but far from it. I reckon my last tweet pissed off a few of our idiotic president's followers. I couldn’t be happier.

It’s late already, and I pity this poor Carlotta for keeping her store open so late at night simply for me to write to you. I try to hurry as I put my words on the page, but then I only end up starting all over again, unsatisfied. I don’t know why I want so badly to express my thoughts the right way with you. But after all, reading your letter every evening is probably the brightest moment of my day, I merely hope that my messages reach your heart the same way yours reach mine.

All yours,

The Wallet Guy.

You folded back the letter with a grin. You hadn’t even noticed it, but on the counter by your side, Carlotta had put down a cup of hot coffee, a pen, a few sheets of paper and a blue envelope. She was leaning on the other side of the counter and watching you with eyes full of mischief.

"So?" she asked with a crooked smile.

"So… nothing… unusual…" you spoke softly, but the bright smile on your face was giving it all away.

"Oh, come on! Give me something!"

You rolled your eyes.

"So… he was very sweet," you answered with a dreamy smile lingering on your lips.

She let out a strange noise between a squeal and a giggle, and went back to tend to her flowers with an excited look on her face.

Meanwhile, you drank a gulp of the warm beverage, picked up the pen, and began to write back.

———————————–

Chris was exhausted. No matter how many cups of coffee he drank up, he couldn’t wipe away the fatigue that drowned him. Long hours of work were a part of the reason. The rest was his friends deciding to drop by and spend the night drinking and laughing with him. He still had a headache, that the mere three hours of sleep he had managed to grab had not been able to diminish.

The second he saw you, he felt his whole body tensing. You had a dreamy smile on your lips, and he wondered where the gesture came from. It was on your features every morning, and would slowly wane as the hours flew away and the sun up there travelled across the sky to sink in the Hudson River.

He welcomed you with a forced smile as you sat down by his side in the chair marked with your name, waiting for the scene to start, and he recognized the faked gesture on your lips as well. A polite but frozen curve traced on your lips that matched his.

For a moment, you remained motionless, sitting side by side but separated by a world of thoughts. All around, people hurried back and forth, from cameramen to make up artists, getting ready to start shooting the new scenes.

"You look terrible," you blurted out in an innocent voice.

"Thank you," he sighed.

"Will you be up for today?"

"Doubting my professionalism again, I see…"

You didn't know if he was joking or not. You preferred to keep your reaction cautious and didn't reply anything.

"Don't worry, a little lack of sleep won't stop me from learning my lines," he went on. "But I reckon that a little party once in a while would do you good."

You glared at him.

"I was just kidding," he defended himself, but you were far from convinced.

In fact, you were angry already. What was the point in a remark like that? His tone sounded innocent, but you failed to see if he was really joking or not.

"I'm not as boring as you might think," you mumbled in an annoyed tone.

He heaved a sigh.

"I never said you were boring. You simply have no sense of humour whatsoever."

"Or perhaps you're just not funny."

He shook his head, and there was an expression on his face suddenly, that was almost close to guilt.

"That was a little mean."

"No more than usual," you shrugged.

"Why do you enjoy getting on my nerves like that?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

You were relieved as you were called for your first scene of the day.

"Lucky we are to have only a few weeks left and then we can stay as far from each other as we can."

"What a bliss that will be, I can't wait."

"So… back at politely hating each other."

"I reckon it's for the best."

Chris remained silent for a short moment, before getting up as well and following you across the large hall to reach the set where an office had been built.

"That's a shame, really. I'm sure we could have been friends."

"Friends?" you laughed at him. "I don't think so."

"If you weren't so uptight…"

"And if you weren't so childish… But we're not living in a fairytale, and you can't get alone with everyone you meet."

He nodded before asking you if you wanted to talk about the scene. A voice polite and rather cold for him. Neutral. It was the best he could do.

Why couldn’t the two of you get along, he didn't really know. He couldn't say that you were a bad person, you just seemed so annoyed by him. And he was annoyed by you. He liked professionalism, but he also liked to joke around, and you seemed immune to his humour. You seemed kinder than you behaved around him.

A pity, but he guessed you were right. Sometimes, people just didn't like each other. At least, not under these circumstances.

*****************************

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @theonelittleone @bookgirlunicorn @madamrogers @marvelcapsicle

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #imagine #fanfic #writing

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varricmancer · 5 years

Text

Written in the stars | 1

Pairing: Varric Tethras x Bethany Hawke

Word Count: 2,019 (A little short, but I’ve been super busy with work and I wanted to get this started. Hopefully it’s still good!)

Summary: When his best friend Garrett Hawke decides to follow his dream and open his own movie studio, Varric is more than happy to offer help in the form of a huge donation and ignore Garrett’s pleas for him to write them a script. Until he learns Garrett’s sister Bethany is meant to be their main actress. Varric may never feel worthy enough to act on his infatuation with the sweet girl, but he’ll do anything in his power to make her a star.

Notes: A modern au! Obviously. Still set in Thedas, but it’s been fiddled with to adjust to my vision. Mages are still treated like crap. Val Royeaux is basically Hollywood and Garrett’s dream is to make his own studio right there in Kirkwall to rival theirs. This is only my second DA fic and my first time trying to capture the entire Kirkwall crew, so I’m a little terrified over how this will go. I’ll do my best!

If there was one thing that he was certain all of Thedas knew about him, it would be never wake up Varric Tethras before noon. This is how he knew that whoever was knocking at his door at seven in the morning - only three hours after he’d finally gone to bed, mind you - was either an idiot or suicidal.

He reluctantly left the warmth of his bed and threw on his favorite red silk robe before shuffling to the front door, where the soon to be dead person was now banging on it hard enough that he was surprised it hadn’t been smashed in yet.

With a weary sigh, he flung open the door and the witty reproach he’d been preparing on the way there vanished from his head when he spotted the unrepentant grin of his best friend.

“Hawke. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?” he drawled, letting the much larger man stroll past him so he could shut the door.

Garrett shrugged and started walking towards Varric’s office, having been here so often he knew exactly where everything was.

“Can’t a guy come say hello to his bestie?”

Garrett went straight to the spare coffee maker that Varric had set up in there for late night writing sessions. He hummed loudly while he scooped out coffee grounds and filled the machine with cold water.

“Uh huh. And why didn’t you use your key?”

Varric settled into his highback brown leather chair that was starting to crinkle with age. His friend was up to something. He’d normally have it all figured out by now, but he was still only half awake.

“That would have been rude.”

“I see,” Varric snorts. Garrett throws a look behind him that said he knew perfectly well what he’d done wrong and wasn’t sorry in the least.

“You realize, of course, that by waking me up mere hours after we last saw each other I am now honor-bound to kill you and everything you love.”

“Then I hope you’re ready to die today, my friend.”

“Damn that was smooth,” Varric grumbled aloud.

Garrett chuckled as he started up the machine and pulled out a couple of mugs from the bottom cupboard. He was still humming obnoxiously loud, but Varric was too tired to protest. Instead, he slumped into his chair and closed his eyes, listening to the gurgling of the ancient machine as it began to fill the carafe.

Just when he was beginning to nod off, a steaming cup of black coffee was shoved under his nose. He supposed it was too much to hope Hawke would have mercy on him. He sighs sleepily and accepts the mug, slurping down the hot brew with practiced ease. Garrett pulls a chair closer to the desk and settles in with his own drink, studying Varric over the rim like he’s waiting for the caffeine to take effect before he strikes.

“So,” Varric finally rumbles after the coffee had settled in his stomach a little. “What do you need? Money? Contacts? An alibi and an extra shovel?”

“No to all of those, but I’ll keep that last offer in mind for the future,” Garrett grins. “I’ve done it, Varric.”

Varric’s foggy mind couldn’t quite grasp what he’d supposedly done. Knowing his friend, it could be anything. He quirked an eyebrow in question, leading Garrett to lean forward with maniacally bright eyes.

“My dream. I finally found the perfect place to open my own movie studio. I’d done a favor for the owner of the building and they lowered the price for me so I was able to afford it. It needs a little work, but it’s a start.”

Garrett’s face is practically glowing with joy, and Varric couldn’t be happier for his friend. Ever since they’d met back in their college days he’d had to sit through so many rants during movies nights. “That’s the problem with those big studios in Val Royeaux, Varric. Everyone is too afraid to take risks anymore. It’s all about the money. When I get behind the camera, I plan to change the world.”

“Shit, that’s great! I’m happy for you, Hawke. Anything you need, just ask. I can help fix up the place and buy equipment to get you started. It’s going to be a lot of work to get it up and running.”

“Actually,” Garrett started slyly, “I had hoped to ask you to help with something specific.”

“Which brings us to why you’re really here,” Varric grunted with a smirk.

“Indeed. How would you like to be the first official employee of Hawke Filmworks?

Varric chuckles. “I’m happy to slip you some cash or recommend some talented workers, Hawke, but I’m rather fond of being self-employed.”

“Don’t worry! You can still work from home in your underwear most of the time! I need a scriptwriter, Varric. Who better to help me turn the entertainment industry on its ear than my best friend?”

Varric scrunched his nose and huffed. “I don’t know about that, Hawke. I write adventure tales and stuff that’s basically shitty erotica. I don’t know the first thing about writing a script.”

“Please! I will kneel and grovel. There’s no one else I would entrust my dream to. Varric, my dearest friend. My love for you has - “

“Andraste’s tits, shut up. And get up, you idiot,” Varric rumbled at Garrett, who had fallen dramatically at Varric’s feet, grasping his ankle like the drama queen he was.

Varric sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’ll think about it. I’d have to do some research. Are you sure you don’t just want some money? What would I even write about?”

“I have some ideas! Don’t worry about that. We can work on it together. Beth is going to be a mage that overthrows the monarchy and becomes the country’s first elected leader. Imagine that! A mage in power! It will be a little more complicated than that, of course, and lots of political subtext. And there will be a love story with the former Prince...and DRAGONS!”

Garrett had lost him after the name he’d mentioned, Varric’s chest aching as it usually did when her name was mentioned.

Bethany Hawke, Garrett’s little sister. A beautiful and kind woman that was so far out of Varric’s league - though it didn’t prevent him from daydreaming occasionally.

“Bethany is going to be in on it?”

“Of course. The whole gang is. Bethany is going to be our lead actress, Marion is going to do her stunts. Carver is our sound engineer and whatever else we need. Issy says she’ll help with costumes. Aveline has agreed to come in and help too. I was thinking of calling her our Executive Producer. Meaning she gets to do all the boring sitting at a desk and making phone calls to hire people and secure locations, make sure we’re all doing our jobs. The lot mom.” Garrett chuckles.

Varric’s fingers began to twitch with the need to grab his pen. His mind was suddenly filled with images of Bethany as a warrior mage, her silken black hair flowing in the wind as she gazed deep into the viewer's soul with her striking amber eyes. She’d strike down her foes with her powerful magic, and give the people hope with her gentle smile.

And...Hawke said a romance. Would she giggle over stolen moments? Stare up at her lover passionately as they towered over her? Would she sigh or moan when the Prince- who looked remarkably like Varric in his mind - pressed kisses to the little mole on her collarbone?

Varric gulped and forced himself to focus, feeling guilty for thinking such things about his friend's sister right in front of him.

“Bethany does realize that a role like that, especially with the way mages are still treated even here in Kirkwall, would bring a lot of attention to her? And not all of it good. She could be in danger.”

Garrett nods. “We thought of that. I was going to hire an actress, but she said she wants to do it. She thinks if we can tell the right story, it might help change the way people treat mages. Aveline is going to hire someone for security.”

Varric sighs. “If she’s going to put herself in the public eye like that and basically draw a target on her forehead, I’ll do it. I’ll feel better if I know I have some control over how she’s portrayed.”

Garrett reaches over actually pulls him into a hug, slapping his back harshly in excitement.

“You’re the best, my friend. I feel much more confident knowing we have you in our corner. And I know Beth will be happier knowing you’re helping too. She would have been sad if I’d had to tell her you’d said no. And you know that Bethany Hawke sad is a bad thing. Flowers wilt, crops perish, stars fall from the sky.”

Varric scoffs. “Like you didn’t know you’d get me to agree eventually.”

Garrett smirks and stands up. “I’ll leave you to your rest then. Come by later to check out the building. I’d appreciate your opinion on where to start.”

“Oh, now that he’s caffeinated me he’ll let me sleep,” Varric grumbles as he follows his friend to the door. Garrett laughs and pats his head.

“You know you love me.”

Varric shrugs and grins as he opens his front door and kicks Garrett’s ass outside, literally.

“Yeah, yeah. Send me the address. I’ll take a quick nap and come by with some food. Sound good?”

“Perfect! Later, Tethras!”

Varric waits until his friend has safely driven away before he closes his door with a sigh. What he’d actually agreed to was finally soaking in. He’d avoided interacting with the extended Hawke family as much as possible the past few years. They’d questioned it a few times, especially considering he’d once practically lived in the Hawke home he’d been there so much.

However, being tempted so often by someone he could never have had gotten too hard to deal with. There were so many reasons he could think of for Bethany to never even consider him an option. He was older than her, with an often bitter and jaded outlook on life and relationships. She was literal sunshine and was so kind and gentle that it was like she’d walked right out of a fairy tale. She was stunningly beautiful, tall and shapely. He was...well, a dwarf. Though he admittedly took more care with his appearance than many of his kind. They were complete opposites in so many ways that there was literally no reason for them to ever be together beyond one - That Varric adored her and would do anything to make her happy.

Unfortunately for him, what would make the entire Hawke clan happy was for him to apparently attempt writing a script for the ages.

Varric yawns and scratches his belly as he trudges back to his bedroom and the comfort of his blankets, visions of warrior mages with gentle amber eyes floating through his head.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #da2 #varric tethras #bethany hawke #varric x bethany #au #movie studio!au

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ghostheadcanons · 5 years

Note

How would the Papas/Copia try to woo someone they had interest in? (I'm just feeling hella fluffy today and it sounds like a cute idea)

Oh, heck yes. Give me that fluff!!

It’s all under the readmore because BOY HOWDY this got long.

Papa Nihil:

WERTHERS ORIGINALS Okay, not really. If he has his eye on you, he’s going to want you nearby, so congratulations, Sibling of Sin! You get to be an assistant!

If it’s romance he’s after, he wouldn’t just skip straight to the sex. He wants to make this special.

Spoils you rotten. Gives you lavish little gifts out of absolutely nowhere–new clothes, jewelry, you name it. If you’re uncomfortable with that, though, he’ll limit it to smaller things, like candy okay, so werthers originals. He doesn’t want you to feel like you owe him anything. He just likes how you light up when he gives you presents.

Will let you in on delicious little gossipy secrets about some of the old clergy, and tell you stories of his youth. He doesn’t share these with just anybody! You two can giggle together about the archbishop who got caught with his pants down.

If things go well, and you seem receptive, Sister Imperator will probably sit you down to talk, and make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. That’s how you know you’re not just some passing fancy from him.

Papa I:

Would be a little unsure of himself. After all, he’s an old man, and you’re….well…so much younger!

But if he decides to go through with it, he would ask for you to stay after sermons so the two of you can talk one-on-one about Lucifer and the day’s topic.

He, like Nihil, would give you gifts, but his are much more humble–pressed flowers and herbs, things he saw and just happened to think of you.

Would make his intentions known after you’ve spent time together and grown close–he loves you. And he would love nothing more than to worship the Dark One with you by his side.

Papa II:

Ohoho. He is so much less subtle than Papa I. The way his eyes linger on you, bore into you, when he preaches��the way he seems to be talking only to you, in a sea of thousands…

In truth, if he’s developed feelings for you, he’s not very happy about that development. It makes him feel vulnerable. But he would approach this a little differently than if he were just after a quick fuck.

Would make you his assistant. At first it’s just things like filling out paperwork and fetching him things. He would lean over you while you’re sitting down and writing to point out your mistakes, leaning in close and whispering in your ear as he slips a hand over yours. “You forgot to carry the two, child.”

Then one night he walks into his office, dressed in his fancy clothes and passing you a box. Inside is a brand new outfit, jade green to match his colors. “I need a plus one for tonight’s ball. I’d like you to come.”

This isn’t some wild party in Vegas, it’s for the higher clergy. And of all the people he could’ve asked, of all the concubines who are much more socially adept in these situations, he asked you.

When you point this out to him, he merely raises an eyebrow. “Then you’d best be on your best behavior, yes? I know you’d hate to embarrass me.”

You can decline, of course. He would be graceful in your rejection. It would mean the end of your assistant’s job, but he wouldn’t kick you out of the church or anything like that. This is the moment where you decide if you’re in it for the long haul or not.

If you accept, he would keep inviting you out to these sorts of things. Choosing to spend time with you. Giving you gifts. Papa II is a man of actions, not words. Even if he never physically says the words ‘I love you,” trust me. You’ll know.

Papa III

Romance is a game, and there’s no better player in the Clergy than Papa III. His trysts and affairs are legendary.

It’s so rare that someone genuinely catches his interest, and yet here you come along and catch him completely off-guard.

For a little while, this Casanova is actually unsure how to proceed. He’s well-versed in the art of seduction, as many heart-broken brothers and sisters of sin can attest, but you…

How is he going to woo you?

He’d probably start it off by asking you out. Casual, no big deal, just a dinner date! You’re always working so hard. Live a little, eh?

If you really wanna make him sweat? Turn him down. A polite ‘no thank you, excuse me.’

He’s so used to people falling at his feet that it would honestly shake him up. But it’s also an intriguing development. Cat-and-mouse is a game he can definitely get behind.

When he asks you out again is actually when you know he might be serious. There are so many others out there he could get into bed with much less effort, but here he is, after you’ve already rejected him once. He comes bearing gifts–a massive bouquet of your favorite kind of flowers. “I know, a paltry present. But then again, when I look at you, every beautiful thing out there seems paltry in comparison.”

If you accept, you can see the genuine happiness in his eyes. Will take you out to fancy restaurants, parties, anyplace you want to go. He’ll give you anything, tesoro, just name it. Name it, and he’ll do it. Only for you.

Cardinal Copia

This poor man. He doesn’t have a damn clue how to proceed when it comes to these sorts of things. He had a beloved, once upon a time, but that was so long ago, and while seduction-wise he’s not half-bad, he was never really that great in the actual romance department.

Might settle for playing Cyrano and write you an anonymous love letter. He’s actually very good with words, weaving them together in a loving, poetic tapestry that would leave anyone breathless. Nothing too intense at first–penned on parchment in ink, fancy handwriting…and he includes instructions on how to write back so he’ll get the letter. All without revealing who your mysterious admirer is.

He agonizes the whole time writing it, and immediately regrets sending it right after he does. This was a terrible idea! What if it goes to the wrong person? What if they recognize his handwriting? This could jeopardize his whole career!!!

….and yet, the most terrifying thought of all is of you laughing at him.

Copia feels like he’s dying inside, sure that you’ve rejected him–until he gets a letter back almost immediately, which he frantically opens to read.

The two of you exchange letters for awhile. The whole time, the Cardinal is both terrified and ecstatic. Every time he gets a new letter from you, he feels his heart soar and the stresses of his day slide away. He keeps them in a drawer in his desk, where he can look back on them when he’s upset.

Finally comes the day he’s been dreading–and waiting for–the day where you ask to meet in person. He tries to put it off for as long as he can, insisting you wouldn’t like the person behind the pen, but you are persistent.

Copia is a nervous wreck that night, hiding just out of sight from your meeting place. But when you arrive, you manage to coax him out.

…and you’re the one to tell him ‘I love you.’ first.

#ghost #ghost bc #papa nihil #papa ii #papa iii #papa i #cardinal copia #copia #headcanons #romance #love #ghost headcanons #ghost bc headcanons #FLUFF MOTHERFUCKERS #HERE IT COMES!!!!!!#Anonymous

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a-walk-in-silence · 6 years

Text

The Past Is For The Past (Pt. 1)

Pairing: Cop!Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: As a teenager, you were stalked and sent death threats. They were never caught. Now as an adult, you start dating a cop, Tom Holland. Everything seemed normal until... something happens.

Warnings: Character death, description of dead bodies, blood, major past trauma,

A/N: Hey! This is Liza! So even though I’mma primarily be the one posting/writing, I gotta give props to my girls @thedaydreamingwriter and @hollands-poppet for helping with the idea for this series as well as helping form this into a brilliant idea. So like go give them love! Thank you! Also, this is a 5 part series! I’m going to try and schedule these updates periodically so that way the last part comes out on Halloween! I’m already a few days off but oh well! Enjoy!

Key:

Y/N - Your Name

L/N - Your Last Name

Italics - Flashback

Bold Italics - Notes

9 a.m. October 31st

“So tell me about what happened when you were 16,” said the calming voice of your therapist, casually leaning back in his chair. On his knee was a notepad, filled with information that you had told him. “Every session that we have, we always seem to come to a... blockade, if you well, when talking about your teenage years. As it is my understanding, your boyfriend- what was his name?” Dr. Carmichael once more shifted in his chair, posing his pen so that he can write.

“Tom,” you responded, readjusting your legs so that they were crossed. “He’s, uh... he’s a cop, actually. We met in college.”

A smile perched itself on your therapists lips as he leaned forward a bit, copying your words. “Right, Tom. He’s the one who convinced you to come here, right?” The piercing eyes of your therapist met yours as he tried to dig through your psyche right before your very eyes. At your nod, he smiled calmly, relaxing once more. “So, have you told anyone besides your family and boyfriend about what happened? If the answer is yes, then I’d like you to think of me as a friend. Open up to me about what happened. Only you and I can work on fixing this problem together.”

You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment, contemplating his words. You knew you wanted help, to forget what had happened. But you were scared to open up. You weren’t sure what to make of anything. You knew he only had your best interest in mind...

“I... uh... was in high school, at the time. Central London. My mother had just passed away from cancer, so it was just my father and I. The first incident happened while I was studying for my GCSE’s.” You cleared your throat suddenly, feeling as though you were being suffocated by the tears that were threatening to spill. “S-Sorry... I... I was putting away my books...”

----

You laughed in your friend’s direction as she awkwardly tripped over her own two feet as she attempted to reach the higher level book shelves. She landed straight on her bum, looking mildly annoyed as you laughed. “It’s not funny!” Terra practically hissed, tossing the book towards you. “Go on! Why don’t you put it up!”

Shaking your head, you casually reached forward, sliding the book into it’s proper place. You threw a victorious smile over your shoulder as Terra silently fumed for a moment before laughing herself. “You’re such a clutz. How do you ever expect to do anything if you can’t stand on your own two feet?”

“Enough you two,” Amy laughed, giving you a playful shove. “I can’t believe you’re acting like a bunch of children right now instead of studying. Our GCSE’s are soon! You’ll both fail if you don’t study!”

You merely shrugged in response to her remark. “Why study and stress when I can wing it and do just fine?

----

You seemed to trail off when talking about your friends. Your heart stopped beating as images flashed in front of your eyes. The things your stalker had done to your friends was seared into your memory. Their unblinking eyes at nothing as their chests stopped rising and falling.

You weren’t aware of the fact that you were now scratching your fingers along your arm, causing red streak marks along the soft flesh. It took your therapist clearing his throat for you to look up and stop scratching at your arm.

“Don’t push yourself to talk about it,” he said, voice soft. “I want you to be comfortable and tell me about everything that you can. If something is too difficult to remember, then I want you to stop and take a moment to gather your thoughts. If you still can’t talk about it after you’ve taken a breather, then skip it. There’s always tomorrow to fill in the blanks.”

Slowly you nodded, rocking back and forth in the chair for a moment. Your eyes glanced back up towards the clock that hung over your therapists head. You still had another 40 minutes left in this session. As of right now, you didn’t want to continue the conversation, but you knew you had to. Tom was waiting for you back home, and you needed to do this for him. Taking a deep breath, you decided to continue on with your story.

----

Terra glanced down at her watch and suddenly jumped to her feet. “Crap! I have to get going home! It’s late! Amy, can you walk me home? Please? My dad’ll kill me if I’m not home soon!”

Amy groaned before standing up, shoving her notepads into her back pack. “Yeah, yeah. Come on. You coming with, Y/N?”

You shook your head, smiling at the two of them. “I’m gonna do some more studying and then I’ll walk home. I live right down the street any way. Have fun, loves.”

The two gave you a small look before looking at one another. They seemed to communicate silently, judging what to do. Terra’s eyes were pleading with Amy to just leave, so that’s what they did. With one last glance, the two disappeared, leaving you alone in the library.

While studying, you kept getting the uneasy feeling that someone was watching you. Something just felt so wrong. But every time you looked over your shoulder, there was no one there. So you just continued to study until it became late.

----

“I-I started walking home after I finished... And I-” Your phone started to suddenly ring in the middle of your sentence, causing you to practically jump out of your skin. You cautiously looked down, staring at the picture of Tom’s bright smile looking back at you. “Sorry, it’s Tom, can I-?”

“Of course. I’ll be here when you’re done.” Dr. Carmichael smiled warmly at you. Visibly, you relaxed as you got out of your chair and excused yourself from the main room, closing yourself into the small bathroom that was apart of his office.

You placed the phone up to your ear once you answered, relaxing against the door. “Tommy?” you asked, crossing your arms across your midrift. “What’s happening? I’m in the middle of therapy and-”

“Oh crap, I forgot.” He groaned on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, darling. I was just calling to say I’ll be home early but I forgot you had therapy and you won’t be home when I get home and-”

“Love,” you interrupted, trying to suppress a small giggle as he awkwardly tried to make excuses. “It’s okay, really. Is there anything that you needed? Was there any reason of why you called?”

He sighed on the other end. “I think it’s better for in person. If you want I can pick you up once your done at therapy. How long do you have left?”

“Around 25 minutes or so. So see you then?” you answered. You rested your head back against the door, trying to relax. Just what did he need to tell you that needed to be said in person?

“Yes, love. Sounds amazing. I have to go now.” Before you could say anything, the line went dead on his end. You stared at your phone for a moment, curious as to why he suddenly hung up on you. However, you didn’t have time to really process why when your therapist knocked on the bathroom door.

“Y/N, are you quite alright? Should I cancel the rest of the session?” he asked, sounding genuinely worried.

You sighed, pocketing your phone in your back pocket. “No, no. I’m coming out now.” You opened the door, meeting Dr. Carmichael’s kind brown eyes. “Sorry, Tom was calling to tell me he was getting off early. We should, um... probably get back to the session. He should be coming to pick me up soon.”

His warm smile was the only response as he lead you back to your seat, gently urging you to sit once more before sitting opposite of you. “I’m ready when you are,” he said, once more holding his pen and pad of paper to copy anything you might say.

----

The night air was chilly as you bundled your clothes tightly to your body. The air, despite being so chilly, was still. A low fog hung low to the ground, making it near impossible to see your feet or the sidewalk underneath. The only light seemed to come from passing cars and the fluorescent yellow street lamps placed every couple hundred feet.

While walking, your foot kicked something large. It sent you catapulting into the sidewalk. Your hands flew out, trying to catch your fall and resulting in multiple scraps along your hands and forearms. You glanced behind yourself to see what had tripped you up when you saw something you never thought you would ever see in your life.

On the ground was Terra, her mouth opened in permanent shock. Her eyes were wide open, staring straight into the sky yet seeing nothing. Her skin was pale, even under the bright yellow street lamps.

Her throat was cut open cleanly, blood dripped out of her open wound. Her hair was dyed from the blood now pooling on the side walk. Your throat seemed to constrict, and you couldn’t make a sound. You desperately crawled over to your friends body, holding her tightly.

Tears stung in your eyes as you stared down at her unseeing eyes. You finally screamed, holding her tightly. A car pulled up beside the two of you, the driver jumping out.

“Please! Call the police!” you shouted desperately, holding your friend. Your tears finally spilled from your eyes are you stared into her lifeless eyes. They seemed so blank.

While the person called the cops, a shout came from farther away. You glanced over your shoulder and saw a young woman standing in the ditch, staring down at something that you couldn’t see because of the thick fog. “Oh my God! There’s a dead body!”

Numbly, you moved away from Terra, following the sound of the woman’s screams. In the ditch was Amy, her dark hair tangled with sticks and blades of grass. Her eyes were just like Terra’s, cold and lifeless, staring at nothing. You screamed, covering your mouth with a bloody hand.

You crawled towards your friend, cautiously running your fingers across her now pale face. Her mouth was wide open, and inside you could see a bloody piece of paper, folded small to be discreet.

Cautiously you removed it, unfolding the piece of paper. On the slip was a note that chilled you two your bones.

Happy Halloween, Y/N.

----

You purposefully didn’t tell your therapist what the note had said. You simply told him that the note had your name written on it.

A knock pulled you from the memory, quieting your words. The secretary from outside peeked her head inside. She looked awkward, her bright red hair pulled up into a bun. “Mr. Holland is here to pick up Miss L/N.”

You nodded, numbly moving from your seat. Your therapist seemed a little stunned from your story, but you only felt numb. “T-Thank you... I guess. I’ll... be back next week.”

Your voice seemed to pull him from his thoughts that he had previously been engaged in. He forced a smile before standing up, offering his hand. “Yes. Of course. I hope you and I can work next session on unlocking new information on your life.” Before you could contemplate anything, he offered you a smile. “Ah, and Y/N? Happy Halloween.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, you nodded. Dr. Carmichael seemed completely unfazed by his comment. He took his seat once more as you left his office.

Sitting in the lobby was Tom, still in uniform from work. A grim look was settled over his face until his beautiful brown eyes fell on you. He quickly jumped to his feet, enveloping you in his arms. You hid your face in his shoulder, still reliving the memories you had just gone through moments before. Your body was rigid. Not even his tight embrace could help you relax.

“It’s okay, love. I’m here,” Tom mumbled, running his fingers through your hair to try and attempt to calm you down.

You shake your head, relaxing into his arms. “I just wanna go home. Please.”

He nodded, his chin resting on the top of your head once he was done. “Okay, okay. Let’s go home, darling.”

----

The ride back to Tom’s was silent, filled with the quiet music that Tom had put on in an attempt to fill the silence. It didn’t really work.

He pulled into the driveway of the house. The gentle sound of the motor came to a stop, ending the music as well. You clambered out of the car, dragging your bag with you as you practically ran into the overly spacious house.

The house had been a gift from one of his aunts who had passed away a couple years ago. Before hand, the two of you had been living in an apartment near your college. Now, at the ripe old age of 24, the two of you were living in his dead aunt’s house that was far too big for the two of you. Not even Tessa could fill up the space.

You opened the front door that opened straight into the living room. From the back of the house, you could hear the patter of Tessa’s nails on the hardwood floors. A few moments later, the blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier came bowling towards you. Before she has a chance to knock you over, Tom’s strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you upright as the dog came jumping in an attempt to lick your face.

“Hey- Hi Tess.” You knelt down next to the pup as she licked your face. You scratched her ears, trying to calm down her excitement. “I know. It’s the day of the party. Aren’t you excited, girl?”

Her tail wagged in excitement as she turned her attention to Tom. You watched the two interact for a moment before giving him a hard look. There was something that he wasn’t telling you. Something that involved his work day.

After a minute of getting attention, Tessa trotted away in search of her next snack. You leaned against the back of the couch, crossing your arms over your chest. “So? What happened today?”

Tom sighed, leaning against the couch as well. His eyes were hard as he looked forward. “Y/N, you remember Jacob? One of my old college friends. He was supposed to be coming to the party tonight.”

“Yeah, I remember Jacob. Batalon, right? Wasn’t he doing local theatre or something like that?” You shrugged your shoulders, glancing at Tom’s side profile. “What about him?”

“He’s dead.” His voice was hard as he shifted uncomfortably, staring at his feet now. “He was found dead around 3 in the morning. There was a note in his mouth.” Tom pulled out his phone, pulling up a photo on his phone.

You stared at the screen. The picture of a piece of paper covered in blood. On the note were words that you thought you would never have to read again in your life.

Happy Halloween, Y/N.

Tags:

@thedaydreamingwriter @hollands-poppet @hollandroos @starksparker @peeterparkr @dodie-y3llow @youreafangirl-harry @spidey-pal

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland headcanon #tom holland blurb #tom holland #spooky story #halloween story #the past is for the past #series #collab #thedaydreamingwriter #hollands-poppet

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strawberryjmilk · 6 years

Text

silence | yoon jeonghan

word count: 2870

this is based off of the greek myth: narcissus and echo

mute!reader, angst

You didn't speak much - actually, you didn't speak at all. No one ever knew why you refused to speak. You didn't really know why you didn't like talking, either. But, you made it through life with a pen in hand, smile on your face.

Another thing you didn't know much about was Yoon Jeonghan. The boy was a beauty with a smile that could make flowers grow and a laugh that helped the sun shine through the clouds. He knew it, too.

Maybe his only downfall was he loved himself a bit too much.

You sat beside your friend Yeri, copying down your notes from class so they'd be neater. The library was quiet, only the occasional shuffle of papers or the light slam of a book. You sighed and trailed your pointer finger over the history lesson you were re-reading, making sure you didn't miss anything.

"And, there he is," Yeri spoke. A flock of quiet squeals and happy sighs broke the quiet barrier right after her sentence. Yoon Jeonghan walked into the library with a few of his friends, his head thrown back in a laugh. "Prince charming has blessed us with his presence, whatever shall we do?"

You knew she was being sarcastic. Like you, Yeri never really understood the hype about the brown haired boy. Sure, he was pretty - really, really pretty. But, he had a sour and teasing attitude you thought wasn't worth the heartache.

You grinned and wrote down your response on a blank piece of paper. Maybe we should bow and offer him gifts, I'm sure he'd be pleased! Yeri's cackle echoed around the room as you joined her, silent laughs escaping as your shoulders shook.

Jeonghan glanced in your direction at the sound of Yeri's laugh. His eyes barely glanced over the both of you before he turned back to his friends. You didn't notice, but Jeonghan thought your smile was pretty. But he knew his was prettier.

You sat in your art class, drawing daffodils and tulips across your page until your attention was called to the teacher. A live model project - that's what he introduced. You purses your lips in thought, thinking of who could be your model for a week or two.

Kim Taehyung came to your mind. Although, that was diminished as his friend Minhyuk was in your class and you knew that's who he'd talk to.

Wen Junhui would've been perfect for you to draw. You adored the boy and his soft-spoken nature to pieces. That idea flew out of the window, though, once you remembered he wouldn't be back from his trip to China in time.

You were sat at lunch now, snacking on your salad and writing potential models. Mingyu and Hyungwon were crossed out - you weren't really friends with either of them. Yeri sat across from you, amusement coloring her eyes as she watched you stress out.

"You have to come up with a theme, too?" She asked as she looked at your notes. You'd written down what your teacher said hastily, your mind preoccupied with potential models. You nodded and sighed before taking a drink of your smoothie.

I'll just have to pick a theme when I pick a person, you wrote down on a clean napkin. Yeri nodded in agreement even though the only art she was exposed to was the graffiti in the neighboring alleyways. They have to pose a certain way and I have to sketch them, but it's up to me after that.

"Sounds fun?" Yeri said. She just shrugged and took a bite of her own salad after stealing one of your cucumbers. You laughed behind your hand before leaning with your chin in your hand.

Maybe you could draw Jennie? She had a pretty, doll-like face that would be easy for you to perfect. Then again, her friend Nayeon was in your class, and she would probably talk with her.

"Hey, maybe you could ask pretty boy over there," Yeri said deviously. You turned to look at who she was referring to, a scowl on your face as you could see Yoon Jeonghan. "It was just a suggestion! He might be taken, anyways, but it still wouldn't hurt to ask!"

Don't be like this, you sighed as you slid the napkin over to Yeri. She rolled her eyes but still grinned at you anyways. You pursed your lips, allowing your eyes to drift back to Jeonghan once more.

It wasn't a terrible idea - asking the boy to model for you. He was perfect for the job - he had good proportions and he had a pretty smile and sparkling eyes. You looked back at Yeri with an almost guilty look.

"Wait, you're not really going to ask him, right?" Yeri said with wide eyes. You shrugged, playing with the napkin with names on it. No one else came to mind and you only had a month to complete the project. "Y/N, I was kidding! Bad idea - bad, bad idea!"

What's the worst that can happen - him saying no? Like you said, I can at least try, you slid the napkin to Yeri before walking to Jeonghan's table.

He was sitting with three of his friends - two you had a class or two with. You stopped and waited for them to notice you, smiling and waving when they did. Joshua - he sat beside you in biology - slid a napkin over to you once he saw you click your pen.

I hope I'm not interrupting you guys, you sheepishly wrote. Seokmin grinned at you before sliding over, patting the booth so you could sit next to him. I just have a question for Jeonghan.

"Oh? A question for me?" Said boy spoke. He was playful and you didn't know if that was a good thing or not. Jeonghan pushed his hair back before leaning his chin on his palm, grinning at you. "And what would Y/N like to ask me?"

You gulped. With Jeonghan sitting in front of you, escaping his gaze was out of the equation. You glanced to see Yeri biting her lip in concern like she always did when you were by yourself. You straightened your back and wrote your question on the napkin.

My art class is doing a project and I was wondering if you wanted to be my model. It wasn't a question, really, but it got your point across. You watched Jeonghan read your note slowly - you hoped your handwriting was neat enough for him to understand.

"A model, hm?" Jeonghan hummed. He ran his thumb over his bottom lip before looking at you. With a slight quirk, the boy began smirking at you and he almost seemed to be closer than he was before. "You know what? I like you, Y/N. So, sure, I'll be your model boy."

Thanks! Here's my number so we can start planning!! You were grinning as you stood to leave. You waved giddily at the four boys almost skipping back to where you and Yeri originally sat.

"He actually said yes?" Yeri's eyes were wide. You nodded and munched happily on your remaining salad, worries now evaporating with the wind. "And he said he liked you? The hell does that mean? Y/N, I swear if he plays you, I'll kick him between his oh, so pretty thighs."

Don't worry so much, Yer, you smiled. You patted the girl's hand lightly as she pouted. Yeri had been protective since the two of you met and, although it could be annoying, you still found it somehow endearing. I know you worry, but I'll be okay!

Yeri didn't say anything, she just glared over your head to where Jeonghan sat. You're sure the boy didn't even notice, but you appreciated her efforts all the same. Clapping, you finished off your smoothie before grabbing Yeri's arm and heading backwards to school.

You didn’t meet up with Yoon Jeonghan until a week later. He walked in as you had a pencil clenched between your teeth, hand stained with the light gray graphite. You looked up at him and could practically feel your eyes gleam - sketching the pretty boy would be a breeze.

“What do I need to do?” Jeonghan asked after he watched you grab your canvas and slide your easel closer. You pointed to the stool that sat a little ways across from you - you wanted to get as close as you could without being uncomfortable. Jeonghan dropped his bag beside the stool before sitting down, his eyes twinkling as they met yours.

You shuffled forward to move his upper body as you wanted. You tilted Jeonghan’s head gently so he was looking out of the window, almost in a daze. You motioned for him to place his chin in his palm and lean against the windowsill, remembering how nice he looked only a week ago. You nodded in approval when you took a step back to look at your work.

Now, just sit there and look pretty! You don’t really have a problem doing that, you wrote on scrap paper. Jeonghan grinned as he read it, his eyebrows wiggling.

“Oh? Does Y/N have a little crush on me or something?” The boy’s teasing tone caused you to roll your eyes as you began to outline his body. You merely grinned and shook your head before pausing.

Even you know how attractive you are, Jeonghan. It’s not a difficult thing to see. You smiled at him again before focusing on your sketch. Jeonghan didn’t answer - he sighed and gazed out of the window, seeming lost in thought.

You thought he looked prettier when he was oblivious and didn’t try to look good.

At the end of your little meet-up, it was already 6 pm and you had Jeonghan’s silhouette and hair sketched out. You were just beginning to draw his eyes when he yawned.

“Sorry, I guess it’s later than what we intended,” Jeonghan spoke. You sighed as you noticed the sun was beginning to go down - you needed that to perfect Jeonghan’s eyes. “Want to get dinner?”

Sure, let me just put this up, you shrugged. After washing your hands and getting rid of any pencil smudges on your face, you stood beside Jeonghan. He sent you a smile - that oh, so pretty smile that could make anyone weak - before leading you to where he wanted to eat.

While the two of you enjoyed your ramen, you noticed the giggles you released. You also noticed the way Jeonghan leaned forward to whisper jokes to you and the way he’d stop laughing to watch you laugh. But, most of all, you noticed the way his eyes almost went hazy when he leant forward to wipe sauce from your cheek.

The next day wasn’t awkward as you’d expected it to be. You thought you’d be red in the face and stumbling over your own feet. But, in reality, you and Jeonghan acted the way you had before.

Except this time you two were a little closer.

You leaned in slightly so you could focus on Jeonghan’s nose, wanting to sketch it as realistically as possible. You let out an annoyed breath and leaned closer when you realized your sketch just didn’t look right. If you had been paying attention, you would’ve noticed Jeonghan’s gulp as his eyes followed your hand as you traced his nose with your finger.

Another few days had went by with you and Jeonghan meeting up. He teased you on your habits of tweaking your sketch until it was perfect. You always rolled your eyes at the brunette boy but sent him a fond smile when he wasn’t looking.

Stretching, you looked over your sketch in approval. You just had the lips left and then you’d paint it - only after thinking of the theme. It hadn’t crossed your mind - you were too focused on getting the focal point sketched out.

“Almost done, Y/N?” Jeonghan’s soft voice sailed through the quiet atmosphere. You turned to look at him and grinned when you looked over your sketch. Tapping your lips, indicating they were the last to do, you turned to grab your sharpest pencil so you could get them just right.

When you turned, you bumped in to Jeonghan. The way he was looking at you - gaze just as soft and gentle as the wind blowing outside - made your heart stutter. Your breath caught in your throat as his eyes danced across your face.

“Just the lips?” Jeonghan asked. You nodded and vaguely pointed to your sketch. Jeonghan’s gaze left yours before quickly meeting again. A sly smile etched its way to his face as his eyes began to gleam. “My, my, Y/N. You really know how to make me pretty, huh?”

I just drew what I could see, you shakily wrote down. It was odd being this close to Jeonghan - you weren’t sure if your trembling heart and caving lungs were good or not. You’re already pretty, didn’t you know?

Jeonghan just smiled before sitting down on the stool. You were going to lose daylight in a hour and you really wanted to get this project done. Sighing, you lightly traced Jeonghan’s lips with your fingers, making sure you knew where every dip was.

“Are you flirting with me?” Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at you. He scooted closer and soon you could see the small details of his face - the details you’d memorized flawlessly. You slowly drew your fingers away from his lips, quickly tracing out what you managed to notice.

And if I am? You teased back. Jeonghan allowed his smile to shine before it faded slowly. Your hopes that were lifting with each smile and glimmer of his eyes were slowly crumbling. All it took was one look at his expression.

The feelings weren’t the same on his end.

“I wish I could feel the same,” Jeonghan shrugged out. His eyes were vacant and guarded and distant as they looked away from you. Trained on the floor but you could still see that shine growing dim. “To be honest, I only know how to love my self. And I don’t want to learn how to let people in - completely in. I don’t want to give my self to anyone completely. I’m fine with just me and I’m sorry.”

Don’t apologize, you wrote down. Your note was smudged and shaky but you knew Jeonghan could still read it. He looked at you sadly before grabbing his bag and leaving, only calling out a quiet goodbye as he left.

Through your cracking heart and pounding skull, a theme came to mind.

You sighed and rested your head on Yeri’s shoulder. The girl had been like a rock for you - making sure you never delved deeper into the darkest parts in your mind. She patted your head lightly as the two of you walked into the art gallery where your painting was being displayed.

Your teacher had fallen in love with your theme as soon as you turned in your project. He asked if you wanted it to be showcased - only after a small push from Yeri did you say yes.

Yeri looped her arm through yours before trailing off to find your painting. She hadn’t seen it at all - she wanted to keep it a surprise for herself. When she did see it, however, she gasped before covering her mouth with her hand.

In front of you was a Yoon Jeonghan replica. He was looking wistfully out of the window to his left, eyes glowing in the setting sun. A soft smile was on his face and his cheeks were pink. Behind him, however, were grayed and wilted flowers. They were drooping and the gray was slowly fading in to the light beige sweater Jeonghan was in.

He was the only thing that was in color.

Below the painting was your name and the date you’d painted what you heard people calling a masterpiece. In loopy writing, right above your nameplate, was the title of your piece.

‘A Facade For Me.’

“What does the name mean?” Yeri asked. She shuffled the both of you back as a crowd began to swarm around your painting. You grabbed her pamphlet of the gallery, clicking your pen as you thought.

It’s about Jeonghan, you wrote down. You bit your lip, running through what you wanted to say without making the boy sound bad. It’s about how he’s convinced himself he’s the only one he needs. And it’s the acceptance from the viewer that sometimes a person really does only need themselves. Jeonghan’s facade - being alone makes him happy. The viewers facade - imagining that he’s just lonely and sad.

“I had no idea you could create something like that,” Yeri gaped. She then grinned before wrapping her arms around you. “My best friend is so creative and cute!”

Your eyes met Jeonghan’s figure as he stood in front of the painting. You could see people compliment him - for his looks or cooperation you didn’t know. He turned and his eyes met yours. You simply smiled at the boy, getting a small smile in return.

He knew he was part of the facade.

whoops here i go again w another mini series! im not giving myself a time limit though so lmao i hope you enjoyed! and thank you for reading ♡

find more greek love story aus here!

jeonghan | jihoon | seokmin | chan

#yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan angst #yoon jeonghan au #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen au #echo and narcisuss #kpop greek au #greek mythology au #kpop angst #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop imagines

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ruensroad · 6 years

Text

Little Water Horse

I’ve been out of practice with writing lately and decided to write a random piece to get the juices flowing again. I’ve had the Black Beauty soundtrack on repeat and drowning in AquaSupes feels thanks to @drenched-in-sunlight so I decided to mix the ideas into this little blurb.

Clark is a baby Clydesdale; Arthur is based on an American Cream Draft (but is actually a kelpie).

Under the cut, babes~

He’d been a part of the Kent Farm for three weeks when he was deemed old enough to venture out into Big Pasture. From what Old Nan had told him of the place, it was a wonderful meadow with a stream and a bit of forest that provided wonderful shade, full of green and colors his little mind could only imagine. And since the old goat was, well, so old, Clark understood this description of what was to be his new playground to be nothing but the utter truth, even if he had a hard time wrapping his head around the idea.

When Mr. Kent opened up the main gate from the goat pen that had been his world since the kind farmer had taken him in, it was with no small amount of excitement and trepidation that he trotted out into this new world of grass and blue skies, though not without a good scratch or two from his master before doing so.

He galloped after the goats and sheep that he called family, and ogled the herd of cows already out in Big Pasture, who eyed him like he was a very odd looking, but not so rambunctious as some of the others, calf. He’d only known the cows as curious noses through the fence and whickered in recognition of some of them before being headbutted into a game of chase with a few calves his age. They, at least, didn’t seem to care he wasn’t their shape or smelled of sheep and that weird, but nice scent Old Nan told him was horse. Which was what he was, she said. He wasn’t sure what a horse was, but he was, nonetheless, happy to be one, even if he couldn’t headbutt nearly so well as the calves, or hop as well as the lambs and kids could. They found ways to play with him, so he was content with his horsey lot in life, and within a mere five minutes he decided Big Pasture was his new favorite stomping ground.

Clark played until he noticed Mrs. Kent waving from the gate, a welcome sight indeed, especially when he could see his bottle of milk under her arm. He raced and kicked and leapt in joy before trotting over to her, blowing eagerly through his nose, tail flopping side to side as she laughed and gave him the bottle to suckle.

So many good pets accompanied his feeding. He was certain that - even if he knew not what horses were - he was still the luckiest of them all. She didn’t stop petting him after he finished and only let him be when his eyes grew heavy. A nap was most certainly in order and he was excited to claim a new nap place in his meadow playground, but that didn’t stop him from watching Mrs. Kent return to the barn, then the building he was told she lived in. it didn’t look like a barn, though, so he doubted this bit of conjecture, even if it had been Old Nan that told him.

He trotted about looking for the perfect spot and found one near the stream one of the cows told him was there. It had a lovely noise to it that set him at ease and the grass was so lovely and soft under him as he laid down. With a warm sun above and cool softness below, he fell into his common dreams of chasing the others about the meadow, now expanded to Big Pasture and the calves, not just the lambs and kids. Only his radiating happiness stayed the same.

He woke to a soft nose lipping over his own, a sweet smelling breath wafting over his face. At first, he thought it was one of the calves, come back from their own nap to restart a game of chase. But the smell was all wrong - like water, he thought, mixed with that smell that he knew as horse. His eyes opened wide in surprise. He knew he was the only horse here, or at least, he was supposed to be.

So when he found himself staring up into the curious blue eyes of a fellow colt, muzzle quivering, ears perked in interest, he nearly sprang up in glee. As it was, he stumbled to his feet, undoing weeks of practice getting his hooves to cooperate in his excitement. Not that the colt seemed to mind. A little, puffy white tail went up and his own flagged high as they pranced in circles in greeting, scenting each other and sizing one another up.

The colt was smaller than him, but only a little, and the color of his milk, save for around his eyes and little nose, which were a light pink. His fluffy mane and tail were like the cotton that fluttered around in the wind and was fun to play with, but he was oddly wet and smelled of damp earth and green and the stream, but also like Clark.

Clark knew he was a brown, with big white legs and a bald face, which made one of his own eyes blue. At least, he figured so, given what Mr. Kent had said about him more than once to curious neighbors that had come to see the foal he’d rescued. He’d thought this strange breed horse he belonged to were all brown and white like him. Why wouldn’t they be, after all? All the sheep were white with black faces. All the goats of similar tans, browns, or blacks. Even the cows were a uniform shade of cream. It stood to reason horses were all brown like he was in the way the other animals looked alike to one another.

But this colt was nearly white and so fluffy Clark giggled in delight, like his new friend was more a cloud than a fellow horse. As their circles slowed then stopped, they stood with arched necks facing each other, noses brushing, eying one another.

“What’s your name?” Clark asked happily, lips brushing the side of the other foal’s mouth. This got him a squeal and a playful rear, then a soft nose bumping his cheek.

“My mother called me Orin,” said the colt. “But my human calls me Arthur. You?”

Clark tossed his head and they were back to trotting excited circles around one another. It made perfect sense that the colt had two names. He had two names too. Perhaps that was also a horse thing.

“My mother called me Kal,” Clark replied, tail wagging in delight. “But my humans call me Clark.”

The colt whuffled in his face before squealing again and taking off running, and just like that, they were playing chase. Clark was good at chase. For all his legs were thick and his hooves too big, he managed to cover ground in a way that made the calves declare he was cheating, somehow. He just figured it was because their legs weren’t as long as his.

But the milky colt had long legs and could stay out of reach. Clark barely got a soft nip in to the colt’s flank to signal the tag before his new friend was spinning on his haunches and charging after him and forcing Clark into a speed he hardly knew himself capable of. It felt good to go fast, felt good to know he could without worrying about the other younglings unable to keep up. Going flat out like he was now… it was a fierce and sudden joy that pounded in his heart, filled him to bursting, and he laughed as he was chased up and down the meadow.

When he tired, he went back to the stream to lip at the cool water, drinking a little. Arthur bumped him with his head and bent his head to join in the drink, before splashing Clark with a hoof. Clark splashed him back and was gratified to hear the colt laugh.

“Where do you live?” he asked as he reclaimed his nap spot, feeling a bit hungry, but not eager to leave his new friend just yet.

Arthur laid down across from him with a wide yawn. “The lake,” was his odd answer and Clark tipped his head, one ear flopping sideways in confusion.

“What’s a lake?”

“It’s a wonderful place!” Arthur assured him and described his home. Clark listened raptly before he heard Mrs. Kent whistle from the gate.

“Do you want some milk?” he offered, loathe to go, even as he found his feet. “My human feeds me because my mother is gone. She’s very nice, I think she’d make another bottle for you!”

Arthur, however, looked dubious, and shook his fluffy head. “No,” he said and hastened to add, when Clark wilted a bit, “my human feeds me, so I should probably go back. I’ll come right back here when I’m finished though,” he promised and pushed his nose to Clark’s.

“Okay!” Clark agreed and watched in fascination as Arthur trotted across the stream to the edge of the woods. “See you soon, Orin!” he called before the colt was gone from sight.

“Bye Kal!” Arthur called back and disappeared into the forest.

It would be later, much later, before he learned the truth. There was no comfy barn in the woods for Arthur to sleep, nor human house for Arthur’s human to stay. It was a nature preserve and no horses lived there, let alone in the lake, which Old Nan told him as impossible. Horses were not water animals. They belonged on land. So if Arthur truly lived in the lake, then he wasn’t a horse at all, no matter his visage.

But that would be later. For now, Clark contently drank from his bottle, lipped at Mrs. Kent’s jacket for treats, then trotted out to his nap place, where Arthur was indeed waiting for him, damp and looking pleased to see him. And that was all Clark cared about. The sun, the green grass, the smell of home and a full belly. And a new friend to play with.

#ruenwrites #aquasuper #horse!au #horse au #kelpie #clark kent #arthur curry #i want to write a second part but i'm not sure yet #when they're older huhu #based more on comic Aquasupes than DCEU Aquasupes but i suppose both work lol

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sonofadeanwinchester · 7 years

Text

FALLING IN LOVE AT A COFFEE SHOP

Summary: Loosely based on Landon Pigg’s song.

Words : 2106

Sebastian Stan x OFC (May)

Warnings: Nothing, just tears, near the end. I’m sorry!

I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you. I've seen the paths that your eyes wander down I want to come too

She could feel his eyes on her. She had felt them since the minute she walked into the small coffee shop on the block. She had felt them everyday for three weeks; since she started coming here. He always sat in the corner, his blue eyes fixated on her as she ordered her coffee and made her way to the small table near the back, books in hand. He always had a large coffee directly in front of him, a journal and pen beside him. Every once in a while when she dared to look over at him, he had it open, writing quickly. On this particular rainy day, she dared to glance up. Her eyes met the same dark blue ones just mere feet from her. The eyes crinkled in the corners as a grin filled his face. She dipped her head, a blush filling her cheeks quickly. She returned to her book and sipped her coffee, ignoring the handsome man.

When she was almost finished her third coffee for the morning, two feet stopped directly in front of her table, in which she only noticed because her head was still down, engrossed in a novel. She kept her head down, ignoring the figure in hopes they would go away. The exact opposite happened when a husky voice, broke the air. "What are you reading?"

She looked up fast, her neck hurting from the sudden movement. It was the man across the cafe, he was close now, his blue eyes shining brighter than the night sky. She smiled small and licked her bottom lip, "a novel."

He laughed and it sounded as if the angels had placed it in his throat. "Very funny."

She shrugged and looked down again, hoping the stranger would go away. When he spoke again, she huffed. "Is this seat taken?"

She chewed her cheek, "depends on who wants it."

He scoffed, "I was asking for me. May I sit with you?"

She shrugged and continued reading, his presence making her read the same line over and over. "I guess so."

He plopped down, placing his coffee and journal in front of him, folding his hands in front of him. "I'm Sebastian."

She smiled at her book and closed, begrudgingly, offering her hand. "I'm May."

He smiled wide, his white teeth filling his face. "That's a beautiful name."

She smirked, "I've never really liked it, to be honest. May is a hot month, almost summer but still spring. It's hot but still muddy, it rains more than the sun shines. It sticky at night and the heat is mostly unbearable."

She laughed, his head jutting backwards. "Fair enough, good thing the woman who owns the name is beautiful then."

I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you No one understands me quite like you do Through all of the shadowy corners of me

"So, you've been spying on me?" She laughed quietly as the waitress poured yet another coffee.

He ran a hand through his dark locks and sighed. "And here I was thinking you'd been spying on me?"

Her face turned a shade a red, "I think I was coming here long before you had showed up."

He shook his head, his lip puckering. "I know that you've been coming here for at least a month, always ordering the same Vanilla latte, carrying a different novel every week. You stay here for exactly two hours, reading and drinking coffee. And then at exactly 3:45 you get up and leave. I don't see you return until the following morning."

She chewed her lip, "sounds like I need a restraining order."

He chuckled, sipping his coffee again. "I doubt that. I'm just simply observing."

She giggled, "well, I know you've been coming here for at least a few weeks, always ordering either a iced coffee with milk or just a straight black hot coffee. You sometimes add sugar to it, sometimes not. I think you only add sugar when it's rainy, like this morning. Yesterday it was sunny and you didn't add anything to it." She smiled. "You always carry that journal with you, one day you forgot your pen so you asked everyone in here if you could borrow one. Once you found one, you sat in your booth and wrote for hours. Your head cocks to the side and you grin as if you've written something funny and you chew your bottom lip and furrow your brow when you write faster, most likely having a thought that you need to write immediately. Some days you order a bagel but mostly its' blueberry muffins. When you're finished with the cafe, you walk down the street a ways and into Drive 365; a gym that's owned by a friend of yours."

He had sat back and listened to her talk, his eyes watching her lips with awe. "You do observe." She shrugged and started gathering her things. When he spoke again, she stopped all movements. "No one understands me quite like you do." He shrugged and stood, wrapping a light jacket over his built body. "You seem to be the only person that actually pays attention, it's nice." He smiled at her than left.

I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much All of the while I never knew I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much All of the while I never knew

Sebastian didn't show up for a week. Everyday she'd watch the door with butterflies in her stomach but nothing, not for five whole days. Her thoughts were all over the place, she loved coming here and now it had hit her. She didn't love this coffee shop or the coffee or the dried bagels; she loved coming here and watching the stranger in the corner. How his facial expressions displayed his whole thought process, how he'd smirk as he watched people out the window or ease drop on the gossip beside him, shaking his head and laughing. She now understood that she had never met anyone that she paid so much attention to or paid so much attention to her. She had had past boyfriends, but they never studied her or took the time to actually ask her how she felt.

One early Wednesday morning, she sat there drinking her usual vanilla latte when the door chimed. She didn't bother looking up, her heart not ready for another day of disappointment. When the chair in front of her squealed from its comfort zone, her heart sped up. "Good morning, May."

She smiled into her coffee cup and locked eyes with him as he shrugged his jacket and ordered his regular. Today was rainy, cloudy and a bit cold. He took out his journal and started writing as if she wasn't across from him; as if he hadn't been here for over a week. Her eyes darted from the paper to his face, then from his hands to his lips. He smiled under her gaze, "see something you like?"

She shook her head, removing the daze. "Where have you been?" She kicked herself mentally, not meaning to jump right to the question. "I mean, I haven't seen you here lately."

He shrugged, folding his arms across his firm chest. "You've noticed."

She darted her eyes away from his intense stare, "just once or twice."

He snorted, "well, Mae, I've been busy with work."

She nodded, acting like it wasn't a big deal. "That's cool." She sniffed and opened her novel. "It's none of my business anyway."

He laughed, "right, of course." She kept her face buried in the pages and he watched her eyes embrace each and every word. "I missed you."

She froze in her movements, eyes frozen on the typed words. "What?" It was a whisper.

He shrugged, and leaned in closer to her, as if this was for her ears only. "I missed you, Mae. Your laugh, your eyes, the way you watch the rain fall down the windows, the way that your eyes absorb the books you read. How when you get nervous, you chew your bottom lip or twirl your hair around a finger. How when you get happy, your eyes sparkle and fill with such joy."

I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you. I've seen the waters that make your eyes shine Now I'm shining too

Her eyes filled with tears; not of joy or sadness, just tears. She smiled and nodded, "it's weird isn't it. To miss someone you hardly know."

He nodded, smiling. "It is weird."

"Sebastian?" He looked up and she chewed her lip bringing a chuckle to his lips. "Uh, I missed you too."

His face turned pink. "Good."

She checked her watch and stood to her feet. "I have to go."

He looked at her, his brows furrowed. "You still have an hour left."

She shrugged, "I have business I have to attend to."

He laughed, "what? You got a boyfriend or something?"

She shook her head, "not exactly."

His face dropped, the laughter leaving his eyes. "You're not married, are you?"

She shook her head, "not anymore."

Because oh because I've fallen quite hard over you If I didn't know you, I'd rather not know If I couldn't have you, I'd rather be alone I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much All of the while I never knew I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much All of the while, I never knew All of the while, all of the while, it was you

She pulled up to the small white building, putting the old car into park. The big medal doors swung open and children's laughter filled the air. A little boy smiled at her and ran for the car. He hopped into the back seat and smiled. "Hi, mommy."

She smiled at him in the mirror, "hey bud, how was school?"

He nodded, his brown shaggy hair flopping into his face. "It was good, we talked about the people we love."

She nodded, raising her brows in acknowledgement to his statement. "Who'd you talk about?"

His eyes adverted his, "Daddy."

Her breathe caught her throat, "you talked about Daddy?"

He nodded, tears filling his eyes. "I miss him a lot today, Mommy."

Her lip quivered, eyes filling with tears. "I miss him too, buddy. You wanna go see him?"

He nodded, the idea lifting his spirits. She pulled onto the highway, driving just a few short minutes, pulling onto the long driveway. She put the car into park and hopped out, opening the back door so Jack could get out. He grasped her hand and together they walked through the damp grass. "We should've brought flowers."

She smiled, nodding. "Maybe next time, yeah?" He nodded and she winked at him. "Why don't you tell Daddy about your new puppy, Ralph?"

His eyes filled with happiness as he knelt next to the tombstone. "Hi Daddy, it's me Jack. I know it's been a long time since Mommy and I visited you. She got a new job and I just started grade three." He held up three fingers. "My birthday was last week and Mommy got me a new puppy. I named his Ralph." Her eyes filled with tears. "I named him after you Daddy. And sometimes I put a firefighter's outfit on him, running around the house making the sounds like big truck makes. We put out fires and save lives like you did, Daddy." His lip quivered. "I miss you so much, Daddy." She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the silent tears flow as Jack continued. "I can't wait till I get to see you again. Mommy says that when I grow up and live to be really old that I can come visit you." He stood up, taking a picture out of his pocket. "I drew this for you Daddy." He opened it wide, showing the drawn side to the tombstone. "See? That's you and Uncle Merle and your best friend Landon. You guys are on the truck." He stood back down, grasping his mother's hand. "We have to go now but I'll try to get back more. I love you Daddy."

#Sebastian Stan #sebstan #sebastian stan fanfiction #I need a little Seb Stan in my life #im ugly crying #send help #im sorry

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joulethieves · 7 years

Note

👉👉👉 Number 9 for BOTH ask posts. All 4 charas/balvaan are non-negotiable.

9 [Headcanon Meme]: General Physical Contact:

Fran -

“Be still, Balthier,” Fran chides, her long elegant fingers flitting across her partner’s in calculated observance. Beneath her touch, Balthier seethes and tenses.

“Do move along, then, would you? Ah–” Another hiss of discomfort. He hates to sass her given the circumstances he needs her help (when does he not, really), but by Ultima the splinter lodged into his finger is likely the size of a Salikawood root and no that’s not an exaggeration Fran.

The spiking throb in his hand is not much compared to the icy look she gives him here. “You will do best to practice patience. Deep, is this, and was your folly.” Her long nails press along the tired redness of his calloused hands for an easy way to pry the splinter from the flesh. Around them, lazy dust motes float aimlessly in the warm sunbeams weaving through the trees. Her touch is soft but only he knows the hardness with which they possess, her hands curved around the stock and foregrip of a crossbow or haft of a spear.

“Ow!” Balthier gripes loudly with no qualms to his partner’s ears. He bites his lip as he feels a sickening slide of wood from his flesh, and the familiar warmth of cure magic following. She spoils him, he thinks. Balthier sighs in relief, presses his thumb to the finger experimentally. “My thanks, Fran.”

“A souvenier,” she says, holding up the thin spike of wood to the sun. “I shall add this to the tally of your debt.” Her smile is in her eyes. Balthier’s is on his lips when he responds.

“I am forever in your debt, my dear. This is no news.”

Balthier -

“The theatre is a touchy-feely place. Now touch each other.”

Ffamran’s drama teacher at the Akademy always has the best quips, and the fifteen year old can’t hide his grin at rehearsal today. All in all, this is a place he can be most himself, delving into the roles of others, the worlds of others, the lives of others. He watches his fellow castmates struggle with the forbidden boundary of physical contact the Empire preaches so vehemently against in the minds of youths, and here, the drama professor attempts to beat it out of them. And if they’re going to put on a good show, may as well. With his feet propped up against the back of a chair in the near-empty theatre (against his professor’s strict command, but he is several seats up staring at the stage, so what does he know) Ffamran grins. The scene before him that his classmates are rehearsing is an impassioned dance scene of two star-crossed lovers in disguise at a ball, with just this one night to make last.

And, with how far away they’re apart in this awkward dance, Ffamran wagers the only thing lasting will be the laughter from the audience. No, no. This simply won’t do.

Ffamran stands and walks down the aisle towards stage right, and his professor eyes him. “Ffamran. Your father bred you into ballroom dance. Care to help these two out?”

Ffamran grins. “I’d be delighted. Here,” and he walks up the stairs to join the two teenagers. He grabs the boy’s wrist and yanks him away from the girl with poorly-masked impatience he cares not to smooth over, “Let me show you how it’s done.”

He pulls her close, the crinkle in his eyes holding a smugness that doesn’t ever quite leave from that moment on.

Penelo -

Night terrors plague the orphan and oft she is left ripped from her sleep by the sounds of her own screams. For long, she wakes alone in a room above Migelo’s Sundries, and shivers despite the dry desert warmth until sleep finds her again whether she wants it to or not.

When Vaan returns from Lowtown after a six month leave of absence, after she thought he was dead, after Migelo refused to let her go down to the Lowers after the Imperials littered the streets and cast angry Rabanastrans down below, the first thing they do is push the two modest cots together to make one “big” bed. And the first night he is back, freshly bathed and finally fed after Faram-knows-how-long, she wastes no time wrapping herself around her friend’s middle like a vice. She feels his abdomen reverberate as he chuckles.

“Pen, if Lowtown didn’t kill me, you just might.”

Penelo squeezes harder. “I thought you were dead. I’m gonna hug you like this, get over it. Also, you’re a good little spoon.”

But there’s nothing to get over, and they fall asleep just like that, like they will every night.

Vaan -

“Y’know, once you guys start becoming sky pirates, I’m gonna have to start charging you for this,” Vaan grins as he lifts a Lowtown orphan no older than seven from the ground by her arms and plops her above his shoulders. She squeals in delight.

“Take me to the uppers! Let’s go! I wanna show Penelo how tall I am!” she demands, tiny dirty hands gripping his flaxen locks with more force than necessary but he doesn’t complain.

“Roger that, captain,” Vaan responds, holding her thin ankles with his hands before taking off. Behind him, the shouts of other orphans call down the magicite-lit alleys of Lowtown.

“Come back soon! Me next! I wanna go to the fountain!”

At Migelo’s, Vaan kicks the door open and bounces in with the girl bobbing on his shoulders in child-light squeals. “Pen, look how tall Lotto’s grown!”

Penelo wants to say something about not kicking doors open of the shop where they live for free but instead just stares up at Lotto, who is smiling down at her with a gap-toothed grin.

“Wow! How’d she do that! She must be eating her vegetables, huh.”

Both orphans before Penelo scrunch up their noses. “Ew, no way!” they both say in unison, and Lotto collapses onto his head in a fit of giggles. Vaan squeezes her ankles and winks at Penelo.

“Anyway, gotta run. I have a few more passengers to pick up.”

“Mind the door, would you, Vaan?”

“Man, that’s a nice door,” he comments before kicking it open. He’s dashing down the street, childish giggles in his wake.

9 [Domestic Meme BalVaan]: Do they act different when they’re in private/public?

Balthier’s limbs splay langoriously about the rickety seating in the Whitecap as he nurses his Madhu, Fran opposite him. Too long has it been since they’ve stepped foot in Balfonheim and he can say with some fondness that he’s missed it. Long has their journey been and long will it continue to be - back in the web of sea and sky pirates makes him feel a bit like his old self, before ugly wrought faces of the past decided to snake themselves back into his happy life of sin and debauchery.

Speaking of sin and debauchery, Balthier wonders where the errant street-orphan that burrowed his way like an insistent little sandbug into his bed last night is up to on their first afternoon in the city of pirates. He thinks of the night prior, and the Madhu isn’t the only reason he’s grinning into thin air. My, a lithe boy indeed. He’ll have to thank Penelo for teaching Vaan to bend like that, no doubt.

“Ah,” Fran’s lilted voice pulls him from his reverie, which he also must thank her for, because blood was running south fast at the memory, “it does not take him long to find the heart of Balfonheim.” Fran is looking down from their balconied perch at the door, and Balthier follows her gaze to land right on said errant street-orphan. Balthier chuckles at the sight as Vaan enters. Why, he can nearly see the boy’s heart hammering out of his chest with the pure adrenaline of it all. He’s nearly beside himself, mouth agape in a toothy grin, head turning left and right as if he were a hatchling chocobo fresh out of the nest. How cute. Balthier watches and thinks to beckon him up, but nay - Vaan has an awful knack for finding him whether or not he wants to be, it won’t be long until–

Oh.

Oh no.

Balthier nearly knocks over a chair in his haste to stand as he watches a group of nearly five burly sea pirates approach the sunkissed Dalmascan immediately with a bodily interest nothing short of licentious. Oh dear oh no this is not to happen, Balthier thinks as he weaves with little grace or regard through the packed tavern. How foolish he was to think Vaan would not be immediately regarded as - well, there are lots of plundering jokes to be made, let’s just say that.

By the time Balthier pushes aside a burly Bangaa pirate that snarls at him, he has reached a wall of muscle. A wall of five heaping hunks of muscle, adorned with tattoos and reeking of fish. Their backs are to him as they surround Vaan and why are they so tall? Suddenly Balthier is reminded why he hates sea pirates. Not a subtle lot, are they.

“I’m Vaan!” he hears Vaan say in a response over the backs of the oafs before him.

“Vaan, eh? New here, are ya? We’ll have t’show you a-”

“Ah, Vaan.” Balthier’s voice is a smooth ripple over the clanging cacophony of their choppy diction. Just because they live on the sea doesn’t mean they must sound like it. Rough and tumble, too much for his liking. Balthier slides through the sea pirates like ice across glass, and hooks an arm around the boy’s shoulders, tugging him close, very close. “Was wondering what took you so long. Come, let us drink.”

“Huh?” Vaan grunts, and Balthier can feel five pairs of eyes narrow on their forms.

“Bah,” one says. “Balthier always gets the pretty ones.”

Balthier wagers he should recognize the voice but cares not to rifle through the files of his memory and place why exactly he knows any sea pirate personally. He writes off the recognition as a mere stamp of his glorious reputation, and leans his head against Vaan’s. His eyes flit across his newfound audience and he grins.

“Sorry lads,” he says in a way that implies he most certainly is not. “Finders keepers and all.” And here, he presses his lips to the crown of Vaan’s sunsoaked flaxen hair. “Come along, Vaan.”

“Huh?” he says again as Balthier drags him off. “Hey, I was making friends. Did you see that one guy? He had a freaking eyepatch.”

“Vaan,” Balthier continues, guiding him up the stairs to where Fran waits with a grin, “You’ve a lot to learn about what friends mean to men stuck with only each other on a boat in the middle of the Naldoan Sea for months on end. You can thank me for teaching you the easy way.”

#my writing #fran #penelo #balthier #vaan #headcanon #balvaan #poetatertot

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9uk · 6 years

Text

Boy Meets WHAT pt.1

summary : you wake up in a strange hospital, with zero clue about your existence. your doctor, namjoon is more than willing to help you in your little journey in life. but when tables turn, and the both of you would learn so much more about life as you embark in his journey of finding his six missing brothers.

pairing : doctor!namjoon x reader ft. ot7

word count : 13.6k

genre: fluff (namjoon and his crabs), smut, angst ft. joon’s tears T^T, jimin has a scene in here ;)

warnings: slow burn, namjoon likes it rough, slight teasing, dirty talk, intercourse, fingering, creampie, crab abuse

a/n : my very first piece of writing! i will constantly improvise from your feedbacks, i do hope you enjoy the first part and look foward to subsequent parts ^-^

part 1 > next

Kim Namjoon—the doctor.

You felt weak.

Your bones were stiff and your organs were forced to function by tubes and machines. You must have been laying here for months.

Uncomfortable.

You could feel pipes and metals every time you breathed. It was subtle, but you know they’re in you. A rough plastic cupped your nose and mouth to help your pathetic lungs to breathe or whatsoever.

The only muscles you could move were your fingers and eyeballs.

Occasionally, a little of your head and the furrowing of your brows. The constant beeping by your left ear makes you shift in discomfort.

The only thing you hear is your heavy breaths from what is that.

Oh, right.

You were now awake and conscious. Should be expecting your crying mom beside you to scream for the doctor as soon as she realises your half-opened eyes.

Decent Hospital.

You struggle to scan the sides of your bed for at least, a relative.

None.

Then your eyes laid on him.

The doctor.

Dressed in a sturdy long white coat with a navy V-neck cut shirt and beige pants beneath.

He was tall, grey hair parted to the side and thick black rimmed glasses on. He wasn’t old though, just a dashing man with grey dyed hair. He gave you the energy to open your eyes fully and breathe like a normal person would just by walking with a clipboard and pen in hand. He started walking towards, you.

You can feel your heart beating rapidly as your lids forced to close shut once again, the sedation kicking in. You muster all your strength to open them to look at the charming doctor, your only hope after a long sleep in the unknown.

The worried look on his face turns into a happy relieved one and your hollow eyes meet his.

“How are you feeling right now?” The question slips from his mouth. Could you speak, with all these tubes strapped around your throat? You never break the eye contact with him.

“Good,” You swallow your saliva. “I guess.” It was better than being dead but alive, yet dead at the same time.

Sure, these things made you feel queasy but you felt human. Again.

You sat up right, this time no longer with tubes in your oesophagus or wind pipe to aid your consumption and respiration, looking at the spoon that your fingers wrapped so gently around. You turned your wrist in all directions, observing your grasp on the cutlery and the many ways you could angle the spoon at with this choice of holding it.

You tilted your head. Strange.

You dived the spoon into the pool of soft fish porridge and lifted it up to your mouth.

“Not like that.”

His hand grabs yours and detaches your fingers from the spoon, adjusting your fingers to an unfamiliar and awkward way of holding the handle.

It now rested on the side of your index with your thumb pressing onto it. Namjoon claims that his way is right, but it did not suit your liking at all.

“Like this.”

After correcting you his hand stays on yours, sending what seemed like electricity to flow through your veins and attacking the rhythm of your heart pulses.

It must have been the lethargy in him from the long hours of relentlessly working that caused the delay in his movements, when he lets go, the warmth of his touch lingers on the back of your hand.

Namjoon smiles at you with his dimples full deep and places his hands in his pocket. He takes down notes on his clipboard that you are able to conquer basic tasks.

Like eating on your own.

He was three years older than you, approximately six feet vertically blessed and a doctor in here, Won-pil University Hospital, or so you assume.

Currently in charge of you, patient who fell into coma after being in a highly crowded place for too long. Passed out from the lack of oxygen. Apparently, you had also suffered a heavy and unforgivable collision to the head. You had slept for 3 months and woke up. That was all the details spared to you.

Though. you ought to thank the heavens you did not turn into a vegetable.

You decided that you had a sufficient amount of interaction with Namjoon, and your relationship with him had progressed into something much more than patient and doctor, that you figured it was time you asked.

“Why was I at a crowded place?” You were utterly curious about the cause of your near-to-death experience—and simply because a curious person loves to deplete all the question marks in their heads.

“I am not too sure, I only gave you medical attention after you were sent in here.” Namjoon shifted in his seat and ran his hands up and down his thighs.

You take another spoonful of porridge.

“Where.. are my family?”

Your heart sank when you realised nobody came to see you, even after months, not even a friend or a soul have visited you since you awoke. Except Namjoon.

He chatted with you in his free time, ate supper which was his dinner at times with you. He was the only one that kept you companied in this quiet room. You were located in a private ward with no other patients to interact with. Boring.

That was why you always looked forward to his visits and the heartwarming smiles he shot you when the radiance in you started glowing day by day as you recovered.

“The hospital have called them, but the lines were always cut off.” Namjoon explained.

“Why am I in a private room?” You gestured to the four pastel pink walls that you see everyday and looked around. The floral design was intricately beautiful and cosy. Seemed a little pricey as well. You had no idea if you even had the money to pay for your stay considering the fact that you had practically, no one. Or the ghost family who abandoned you.

“I-I arranged this for you.” You then shifted your gaze towards his face of hesitance and looked down shyly. You noticed the gold Rolex slapped across his wrist while hanging your head. That is why. Namjoon was rich.

“What about me? You don’t even know me.” It suddenly came across to you. Why would a doctor have such a special arrangement for a mere patient, someone he had plenty of others to attend to. Why you?

His eyes look to the side and his mouth open but nothing comes out. He pats his thighs and stands up, avoiding your question, “We’ll save that for another time. I’ve gotta go.”

With that, he leaves.

The question was never raised again.

One fine day, you were taking a stroll in the hospital park. You wanted an intake of fresh air of the world outside, and to your satisfaction, the taste of nature indeed felt wonderful for your lungs. It was like the green of the hedges outlining the pavement cured the soreness of your eyes, the sky blue and random blotches of white brought your trapped emotions freedom, the gentle warmth of the evening glow grazed your skin with the heat your body longed for. Definitely a fine day.

The flowers are falling and the winds are getting stronger.

Your footsteps jerk to a stop, the dragging of your thin slides against the gravelly path disappear.

“Why do you keep following me?”

You turn around to come into eye contact with Namjoon.

He flinches a little at your abrupt confrontation and starts throwing laughter into his palms to hide his embarrassment.

You had felt a pair of eyes trailing you ever since you sneaked out the ward, and the feeling only grew stronger with every step you took.

“I envy you.” He collectively says after settling, a finger pushing his glasses up.

He walked with you to the nearest bench and sat down.

You stare at the ground filled with leaves intensely for a moment and said something on impulse, before he could elaborate.

“Because I’m everything that you’re not.”

The sentence did not even come out as a question, but as a firm and standing explanation.

He almost drops his coffee as he turns to look at you wide-eyed at your confident reasoning.

“That’s.. exactly what I wanted to say.” His mouth went agape and his eyes shift left and right for answers.

Namjoon, however in his usual coat and a cup of coffee in hand, readjusts himself.

You, in your hospital gown with your phone and earpiece in hand.

It was nice, this context, and you enjoyed it thoroughly— other than the times he frantically finished his last meal of the day beside your bed, sparing small talk and rushing off to tend to other patients, leaving you chuckling at his hurrying form. Your eyebrow twitch instinctively at the memory.

“You’re unique, no kin nor friends, you can do whatever you want and-“

“I’m being myself.” You interrupt.

Upon your words, he shakes a little from the shock. How were you able to complete his sentence on beat?

“Are you an alien?” He questions so sincerely, that you had to hold back a chortle from slipping past your mouth.

“I said it from my instincts.” You collectively replied.

“Yeah, and it’s like fascinating you know, the way you act, it’s as if you just got pooped out from another universe or something! You’re amazing.. I just can’t explain.” He rambles on, and you’re stuck at how he had just used the term ‘pooped’ when he is literally, a doctor. You let out an outburst of laughter accidentally while you’re on the thought and Namjoon shoots you a confused look, scanning every word in his previous statement once more.

“What’s so funny?”

You immediately halt and replace your giggles with a stoic expression. It became his turn to have his fit of laughter for you were so, so abrupt.

“Now, what’s so funny?” You turn the cameras to him, facade of seriousness not budging.

Raising a brow, you shrugged and reached for his coffee. Namjoon hands you the beverage and scribbles down on his little notebook. You catch a glimpse of a sentence, ‘wake up from coma = predict future?’ It wasn’t funny, not at all, but due to the fact that earlier on you had tried so hard to contain your excitement, you let slip of another giggle. You bit your lip and chided yourself silently to stop.

“You know, the more you laugh at practically everything, the more I might just need to transfer you to an Asylum.” He shakes his head, actually considering doing just that.

At that, you cannot help but let your laughter grow louder.

Suddenly, his eyes flick up towards yours, wide upon some sort of realisation. “I know!” His pointer finger bounces up and down, finalising his thoughts.

“It must be the word ‘pooped’ I used earlier on, right?”

You smile sheepishly, the humour of it worn out too soon.

Namjoon shakes his head even more vigorously than before, this time accompanied by a sigh, on the border of disbelief and disappointment at your childish antics.

Still, he notes down every small detail of you diligently.

Then, silence envelopes the both of you.

It was neither uncomfortable nor filled with tension, instead it radiated happiness and was coated with bliss.

Perhaps it was the afterglow of both your redundant laughter that had you feeling this way.

Perhaps.

You looked over at Namjoon, who mirrored your expressions, beaming happily to himself.

Perhaps not.

It was a Saturday morning, nothing exceptionally special happening but Namjoon was by your side, and for whatever unknown reason you felt a little more excited than usual waking up that day, and it totally may not have been because of the walk in the park with said man. You try to pass off as indifferent as ever when he sets foot into your ward, but instantly fails when you spot a tray of bacon, eggs and coffee on his hands. God, you love food.

You feel yourself tensing up as he moves closer to you, setting down your plate of food and sitting too close to you.

Not that you were complaining.

You began to cut the bacon strips (yes, you can even manage a fork and knife at the same time now) and Namjoon fishes out his leather-cased notebook. And you feel words skim across the surface of your sophisticated mind, almost like a natural reflex.

“Your favourite movie..” You sip on the coffee, trying hard to be nonchalant.

“What?” His heads flies up to meet your face, not wanting to miss out on any crucial evidence to proving that you are, or most likely, probably an alien. Namjoon is not one to give up.

You point to the book he had in hand.

The Notebook.

He glances back at the object he has in his hands.

Namjoon then sighs and shuts his notebook. He turns to face you with an unreadable expression. His eyes roam the shape of your legs under the duvet, as articulating his thoughts into words, before they bore into yours once again.

But that simple act of his caused you to nearly squeak—

“You know, I really wanna take the time to get to know you better,”

He clears his throat and the creases of his brows appear. “and your supernatural abilities— but that isn’t my main point, like not as doctor and patient, even after you get discharged and all, you know…I-I still wanna be able-“

He’s rambling again, and you’re distracted finding it extremely adorable.

His words come out unembellished, honest and straightforward and you find yourself speaking without much thought.

“Sure.” He gets cut off mid-sentence.

You’re utterly embarrassed at how desperate you must have sound, panic splashed onto your entirety.

He’s stunned and you carry on,

“And you still wanna be able to..?”

Even though you clearly have the answer lingering at the back of your head.

His smile grows larger at your response, completely oblivious and forgotten about your strange psychic powers and he continues.

“To see you.”

Namjoon kindly admits with a tug of smile.

Your heart began to beat disastrously fast and your cheeks feel like they’re in a furnace. While you’re at a loss of words, which was very unlike you but Kim Namjoon, handsome and intelligent doctor had just asked you out indirectly. And you meant it when you described your pulse in that manner—this was a disaster. A passionate and enjoyable one at the very least.

Formal, ridiculous and awkward, you had found his outstretched hand to be, so you went for option two.

Without a care, you reach for his sides and wrap your arms sincerely around him. It was a brief moment after that he relaxes from his stiff form and hugs you back. You slightly bury your chin into his muscular shoulder and take in all of him. Namjoon doesn’t wear cologne or perfume—that, you’ve noticed. Instead he smells of fresh fallen leaves—quite similar to the one you got many sniffs of just yesterday—and hints of pine needles, giving you a woodsy, earthy scent that evokes warmth and coziness throughout your body. Born on the 12th of September, nearing the fall—of course he would smell exactly the season. Or maybe you were overanalysing and his body soap was purely made of Autumn flavour.

Nonetheless, it feels nice. He feels nice.

Namjoon feels a few butterflies fluttering in his chest, warmth rushing in all of his haemoglobin and he cannot quite explain how he feels from your nimble arms around his rather lean yet broad form— but for sure, it was something he wanted to bask in forever.

“I read a book last Sunday and the girl said this to the guy she had just known,” Namjoon scoffs unbelievably at how childlike you sounded, and you shifted at the feeling of his hot breath on the side of your neck. You quickly pull away and recited,

“I’m a hugger, remember that.”

As he feels your hands dislodging, he resists the strong discontent at the loss of contact. “What book were you reading?” He asks, recovering from how dizzy he felt from a plain hug. Namjoon prays hard that these flustered emotions were not painted clearly on his face.

But it was you, and you can see everything— including right through him. A knowing smile grew on your face, and you sip on the coffee that has turned cold once more.

“I’m not telling you.” You tilt your head a little higher, eyes fixed on the caffeine just to show Namjoon how much of an immature brat you could be. And he looked like he wanted to slap you back into your goddamn coma.

After your speedy recovery and immediate discharge from the hospital, Namjoon being the ever-so-loving gentleman offered to send you home. Where was home?

You had a book in hand, one that caught your attention amidst the rows of neatly stacked books. The book was sticking out like a sore thumb, and you felt like it was almost purposefully poking its head out of the shelf for you to lay your eyes on it longer than the others—eventually picking it out from the crusty wooden shelf carefully.

'WHAT', was imprinted harshly on the cover of the book, you could feel the indents and ridges of every letter as you glide your fingers cautiously over the book, like it would break apart and dissipate into pixel dust from your hands any moment. Yes, it looked that enchanted. The shimmering gold words felt like it was carved onto the light blue buckram material of the book jacket.

Wonder. The very first chapter had briefly mentioned about what home truly felt like. The protagonist of the story wonders what home could truly bring himself to feel. Was it a safe haven of love? Was it an endless maze of euphoria? Was it confined in the comforts of a worn-out family couch?

The boy often wonders what home could mean.

And how he would seek it out someday.

Over to you, home only meant the black and white words of address inked onto the sheet of document to your identity.

You felt lost and unloved.

“What are you thinking about?” Namjoon shuts the door and starts the ignition. You trapped in a blank stare and you couldn’t concentrate. There were too many things going on in your mind at that time till you couldn’t think about anything at all. It was like you were dropped into a pit of self-doubt and relentless questionings of your entire existence.

“Nothing.” You mumble under your breath at your best and picked at your fingers. Namjoon senses the weird tension and drops the probing, for which you were thankful for.

You were a paradox of emotions.

Up till now, you still have not figured where your family members went. The trip there was silent, you were still constantly questioning your state of plight and wondering why you weren’t exactly the same as others.

Take for example, you were reading a book ‘Three Little Pigs’, hoping a children’s storybook would be able to lighten your mood with its innocence and simplicity, with its attempts to drive the moral of the story into the brains of kindergarteners. Definitely, you did learn about how important it is to take precautions and have certain trust issues from the animals, but at the same time you feel attacked when the three piglets have a mother (and themselves) and you don’t.

Life is hard.

Everything that you do makes you question and feel unnecessary things.

Maybe being different wasn’t that great after all.

Exceptionally different, in your case.

Like you didn’t fit into this world in the slightest bit.

Like he didn’t fit into this world in the slightest bit too.

A few days earlier..

You slipped off the bed in a disgruntle after aimlessly trying to solve the Rubric’s cube Namjoon had given to you. He had still continued to insist that you did not belong on Earth, (but he is confused as to how beautiful an alien can actually get if his hypothesis was true) forcing you to play around and solve the toy to experiment what you were capable of. He viewed it as some sort of intelligence test, but really you brought more of your attention to the “play around” part of his order.

Your body was quite sore from the still sitting on the bed for what seemed like hours, twisting the colours of the cube in amazement and determination. And now, with the cube tossed mindlessly on the bed, you left with a breeze of exhaustion washing over you. You needed a walk.

Roaming the hallway of your level, you realised that it was eerily quiet. The hallway was rather narrow, simple white walls encasing you and the dim ceiling lights raising the hairs of your arms. The design was plain, compared to your ward, in fact a little too plain for your liking. Even the end of the stretch of walls was another white wall and you wondered if there was a turn included. Your tingling senses somehow tells you that a hospital should consist of nurses and doctors running everywhere, some carrying reports, some pushing trolleys of medication for treatment, the unstoppable clattering of the keys on laptops, the occasional announcements and beeping sounds, and, at the very least be spared of a few paintings of apples or something on the walls— but what laid before your very eyes was a mute white corridor, which walls seem to be closing in on you every time you drift out of focus.

It was so silent that a pin’s drop would be heard.

You started doubting whether all those times Namjoon rush off was to actually get back to his job, or what not. Because the quiet confines of this hallway make you wonder if he even did actually have a job here as a doctor.

What was there to do in a building that sounded like vacuum anyway? Like there weren’t any other patients, except for you.

The silence made the ball of nerves you gulped down your throat, deafening.

You take in a deep breath as something like fear creeps into the back of your heart. You started walking, to distract yourself from that feeling. Perhaps you were in an asylum, and Namjoon could save the trouble of transferring you there.

It was your first time out of the ward, and although Namjoon has made countless warnings for you to not step out anywhere of that private room, you figured it could not be as bad due to the lack of proper reasoning he did not manage to give you when you queried.

As your footsteps increased, you came across another room. The first room you had encountered that did not belong to you. Looking behind, you memorised the exact location of your room door, making sure it was still there for whatever paranoia you had in mind. You tried peering through the blinds for this room had a window unlike yours.

You gasp.

There was definitely somebody in this room.

You felt his presence send a pang of shiver down your spine.

Nonetheless, curiosity peaked your mind as you made your way to the door, keen to make a second friend of your kind. There is a small sliding hatch on the door above your eye level, and you stand on your tip-toes to view whatever was hiding behind this very door.

Placing your palms on the white wood, you peered in with searching eyes that wandered around the room.

The room fitted so well in this hospital, unlike yours.

Your room consisted of white lilies spotting the pastel pink walls, blended with a mixture of floral designs and a handful of small birds. Cute, would be an understatement. However, this room resembled the hallway, nothing but plain. Other than the boring two white walls that looked a light shade periwinkle under the faint blue ceiling lights, you can see large ivory curtains draped across the center of the room.

You leaned slightly towards the left and closed an eye for a better angle to view the right-side of the room, and you’re met with a peculiar silhouette of a figure. The shadow is still as statue, and something about that lets your gaze linger on it longer than you planned—like you were testing its ability to remain stationary, waiting to see if your ogling would actually cause a stir in its movements. You were determined to not even bat a lash, keeping your eyes open anticipatingly for any sort of change.

Your closed lid had started to strain but the silhouette was still immobile and that made you wonder if it was merely a curtain design or some sort.

Time passed and the scene before you was the exact same as before, you cannot help but blink as you feel your right eyes begin to sting.

And you let out a gasp when the curtains showed nothing but white.

No longer was there any grey sitting figure stained on the cloth and you swayed eagerly from side to side, trying to locate where the hell it went. Or you could say, the person went.

Worry and interest grows inside of you at the same time.

You’re worried about how ‘it’ could be a demon or ghost or something that could potentially harm you—considering it disappeared to god knows where in about a millisecond.

Or quite literally, in a blink of an eye.

But then again, you’ve only read about demons and ghosts and given your state, you would probably (try) build a friendship with them if you ever bumped into one. You’re also interested because—dammit, you had no idea why you were feeling this way. Making friends was just a lame excuse to cover up and you know that very well for a fact, because this was way more than creating friendships, meant way more than the term ‘friend’. And you don’t know why.

For a certain reason, your brain and your heart were two separate organs, not separate as in the arteries were non-existent, but separate meaning your eccentric mind sends messages to you and your poor clueless heart, or sometimes your voice box. You say things you hadn’t read about yet, you do things without a particular reason, and you feel and think about things you don’t have an ounce of knowledge about.

These train of thoughts are broken in a flash, when the door slams open.

Letting out a gasp, you come face to face with a guy with his blonde hair swept-back, in the entire glory of his sky blue pyjamas set. His eyes were drained of any form of energy, heavy lids droopy and you were surprised at how he even managed to keep them open. Gaze falling onto his excruciatingly attention-seeking plump lips, you were robbed of time to admire them as they moved-

“What do you want?”

Eyes widening, you were at loss of words.

You had forgotten to think about what you would say and you were caught red-handedly gawking rudely into his room—for the love of god, why couldn’t you have just knocked politely and waited for a response? You purse your lips in regret of your lovely intrusion of privacy.

“Uh, I-I just—shit, I’m sorry..” You wanted to leave as fast as you could from your predicament, and never see him again-

But the cold fingers encasing your wrist halted you.

“Don’t leave just yet, pretty thing.” His lips curl upwards forming a smirk and you are stunned upon his words and the grip on your wrist.

Pretty…thing?

“Would you like to stay with me?” He suggests with a friendly grin but the smile doesn’t quite reach his tired eyes. You were so tempted by his offer, and you felt as if there was this unknown force pulling you into this bland room with this completely attractive stranger. You stayed silent, and he knew you were actually considering it. A smirk grew fondly on his lips.

Unknowingly, you find yourself taking the first step into the room, followed by the second, third and-

“So willing…” His voice turned a few octaves lower, but it is still as soothing as honey. You’ve lost all control of your body movements at this point. In a split second, you entered his room. His energy was so seductive and alluring, not even the strongest man alive could resist it. You don’t know how and when, but the stranger had you caged against the now closed door. His gaze was so predatory, you felt like a curious cat that walked right into his trap. His ring-clad fingers rise slowly to hold your chin ever so gently, his touch sending you to seventh heavens. Your breath hitches, and you’ve gone completely still by the effect he has on you. He seems to notice the very slight quivering of your lips and he swipes the pad of his thumb over them, just for a brief feel. You’ve been staring at him this whole time, unable to take your eyes off a man that resembled a Prince. As he fix his eyes on you again, you blink in disbelief. You’ve only read about this in books, how lovestruck the princess got after having a taste of her royal prince—he disarmed you without even trying.

Curiosity killed the cat.

He craned his head and attached his lips on your neck. You shudder visibly at the contact and your eyes flutter shut automatically. His hand moves to the other side of your neck, grabbing it roughly for better access to suck your neck. You feel his tongue dart out and lick a stripe up your skin causing you to involuntarily let out a small whimper. Everything was happening at such a fast pace, you almost couldn’t keep up with his ministrations on your body. He devours you in a hasty and impatient manner, like he needed to rush off to somewhere after this. His advances are so quick, your breathing and heart rate turned beyond erratic. You feel a tight grip on your waist and he starts trailing kisses up to your jaw.

But satisfaction brought it back.

A part of you wished he doesn’t pull away, at least not just yet— but he does, pulling your body flush against his, then leaning his forehead against yours. His breathing, similar to yours, is ragged too.

“We’ll see each other again, soon.” He tells you softly.

You remember how Namjoon always praised your extrasensory perception and this is the exact moment you should put it to use. You try to stare through his caesious eyes to open his backstory and read about this mystery man—and all you get is a heavy sense of longing and a strong seek for the serendipity he used to possess. Although you feel his hardened member through the blue silk, and your neck wet with past traces of sloppy open-mouthed kisses, probably a pool of heat stirring vigorously in you—you felt like you needed to leave. And as if on cue,

“Y/N, where are you? “ Namjoon’s voice appears outside the room.

“Will we?” You doubt.

“We will.” He shines a faint smile.

“Promise?” You sounded like a kid, but you had wanted more than anything to see him again right at that moment.

“Promise.” His smile is now full at how innocent and childlike you were, and he was close to robbing you of that a few seconds ago. You look at his now outstretched pinky finger, and blink in confusion.

“It’s a pinky promise, idiot.” Your mouth forms an ‘O’ shape upon realisation and the both of you curl your pinkies around each other tightly.

“Y/N!” The shout laced with worry echoes down the corridor.

The entire atmosphere in his room had perfectly took a whole 180 degrees turn— you were at first a little intimidated by him but now your fingers were connected as the both of you giggled in amusement.

You grabbed the door handle, about to make your way out but you quickly spun around to face him again.

“Oh, uh I forgot, your na-“

“Jimin. I’m Jimin” He intercepts as if he saw that question coming way too early. His name was beautiful, and an actual and accurate representation of the guy himself. A silly grin creeps onto your face after you repeat his name a couple of times to yourself and you open the door a crack. You took the chance to quickly leave his room when Namjoon’s footsteps have faded away and a voice vibrates through the whitewood door.

“You’ll see me again.”

The promise was sealed tight.

Present Day

“Here it is.” He points to the apartment on your left as he slows the car down for the viewing of your home.

The door swung open smoothly and the house was empty, no family portraits or any pictures of your loved ones. To be truthful, you did not even know who they were, and you obviously had a mom and a dad, maybe they had passed on but you didn’t feel any grievance or emotions to those possible scenarios.

You mean you have not even seen their faces or spoken to them, from what you can recall. There were no memories of them.

Siblings? The word brother keeps pestering your head so you figured you must have had one, and we must be pretty close for him to bother your brain so much it hurt. You only felt depression poking your heart when you saw kids playing with their parents happily, hearts filled with so much love and affection. They had a safe haven, the safe arms of their guardians, something you missed and lacked right now.

The hollowness in your heart caused you to squirm when you walked around the house, as if walking in your own heart—empty.

Namjoon slipped a piece of paper containing his phone number into your bag.

Why did you even have a bag?

You don’t remember.

Your gut instinct told you Namjoon gave that to you as well, even though he claimed that these were your very own ‘belongings’ from the accident.

At times, you wondered if he had no one too. Just like you.

He never talks about his family or friends.

After walking around the house aimlessly, almost like viewing a show flat, you discovered a safe in the house. There was around a million dollars and files of documents inside, as if the house was prepared ready by someone for you to live in. You also noticed the furnitures untouched, fresh and too intact for someone who lived here, the bottles of soap and shampoo filled to the brim with satisfaction, the bed unwrinkled and smooth, the sink shined with a spark of twinkle and the fridge stored with containers of food. There wasn’t any undone laundry. There wasn’t any unwashed dishes in the sink. This house seemed to only tasted the presence of human twice. It didn’t feel like home at all, it was more of a perfect dollhouse. Everything was so in place, you dare not mess anything up.

Let alone live comfortably in it. You weren’t some doll.

You flipped the documents open and was met with a lanyard and a business card. Your lanyard, and your business card that states:

Y/F/N Y/L/N

BH Entertainment

Journalist

You whipped your phone and the slip of paper out, and dialled Namjoon frantically. You placed the phone between your shoulder and ear, and went to gather all the toiletries and clothes in the house and shove them into your backpack. “Namjoon!” You yelled into the phone as the ringing stops.

“What?! Did something happen?” You can already imagine him panicking on the wheel.

“Come back. I’ll tell you.” You calmly told him.

“Sure, I’m just around the petrol kiosk nearby.”

He arrived swiftly and steps in with a concerned look on his face, wondering if he had missed out on any necessities a woman should have.

“I have a favour to ask of you.” You interlocked your fingers and gave him the softest look, possible. You thought about this hard, and you concluded that you should follow your deadly accurate instincts and that intellect brain of yours. And that is why you came up with this proposition—which you think can greatly benefit the both of you.

“Ask ahead.” Namjoon crosses his arms, listening attentively to what you had to request. Before he interrupts, “Wait, is this about the house? I can settle that for you. I know many repair workers, decorators, furnit-“ “No.” I cut him off, eager to raise your suggestion to him.

“It’s not about the house. It’s the fact that it’s just, a house.”

You shift uncomfortably in the silent four walls.

He lifts his brow in confusion.

“Which brings me to my request. Let me live with you.”

You forced an appealing smile.

You deduced that he lived alone, and even if he had one bed, you wouldn’t mind residing on the couch. Which doctor didn’t have a couch?

“It doesn’t feel like home. Feels like.. someone set this whole ‘home’ up for me.” You mumbled as you looked around the decent apartment. Namjoon sighs in defeat, a tinge of guilt casting across his lips pressed into a line.

“Should I have said.. make yourself feel home,” Namjoon chortles, “you wouldn’t end up in my car again.” You narrowed your eyes and smacked his shoulder. “It’s not as simple as words!” You pouted. Namjoon smiles ever so sweetly and makes a sharp turn. “Woah!” You fly carelessly to the side and his right arm cages your chest and helps in the seatbelt’s poor job of securing you in place. You return to your place in shock and search the car for answers.

“Be careful, you clumsy!” His arm is retracted back when he grazes over the modest feel of your breasts.

And you feel your cheeks glow a pink.

It felt too stuffy all of a sudden and you could feel his body heat radiating towards you.

“Does it have a price?” You question after a moment of awkward silence between the both of you in the car.

Everything comes with a price.

“What does?�� Namjoon seems confused.

“Living with you.”

“Ah… we can discuss about that some time later.”

He seems to already have what he wants from you in mind, circulating around the wildest desires in the back of his mind. But he chooses to disclose his thoughts to you perhaps, some time later.

His apartment feels cosy, but not that luxurious for a person who earns tens of thousands in a month. It felt like home, well at least for you. To him it was a plain mess. “Sorry it’s really messy. This is the life of the doctor, too busy to even tidy up this hell of a place.” Speaking of busy, it reminded you of your doubts about him as a legitimate doctor. Which in turn resulted in your thoughts drifting to Jimin. You raise both brows at the sudden memory of his mouth on your neck.

“It’s fine Namjoon, really.”

You settled in and your bedroom was just across his. Interesting.

“Is everything okay?” He leans by the doorframe with hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. Namjoon looks even better like this, absent-mindedly dressed in his slacks and his fluffy hair. You did not want to be caught gawking, so you hurriedly shift your attention to the clothes you were packing in the drawer. “Yeah, it’s more than okay.” you muttered and smiled, even though he can’t see your face. You shut the drawer close and stand up.

“Namjoon...Thank you.” You slowly walk towards him. Your mind was filled with thoughts of how you were going to get along with him in this cosy apartment.

“Don’t mention it, it is my pleasure..” Namjoon looks down and scratches the back of his neck.

“Your pleasure?”

“..to have you as a friend, of course. Or a housemate of some sort.” He lets out the cutest giggle.

“Oh, I see.” You chuckled nervously. You came to realisation that you didn’t know much about this man. But since he has gave you a life (and a home) you should be more than willing to accommodate to anything he wants.

He could be a rapist, a psychotic killer or a mad doctor who dissembled body parts and has a wide collection of the organs of little girls—but you chose to trust him. Something in him made you feel like it was right to do so, that being with him brought you happiness. You followed your heart.

Namjoon latched his watch onto his wrist, preparing to head to the hospital. And yes, contrary to your suspicions he actually did have a job at Won-pil Hospital and was a doctor assigned in the special case unit. Special case that is, the reason why the hallway outside your ward was empty. Patients like you needed space and less interactions with other patients lest your damaged brain would spark a reaction and shock you into a state of vegetation. When you got discharged, the exit out of the special unit reassured you that it was nothing but a normal hospital. The nurses, the clicking sounds and the patients taking walks-- everything proved it.

There were other cases, but yours was the one he was in charge of and every patient had a designated doctor which cannot be interfered with to avoid mixing up procedures and current state progress of the patient’s recuperation .

He had no clue about the other patients. But it was not like he needed to, he had more than enough patients to tend to at the general surgery section as well.

Namjoon closes his eyes for a quick snooze before the elevator reaches the basement. Something however, felt out of place.

Out of habit, he reaches for the bridge of his nose and feels nothing but skin.

Right, his glasses!

His eyes flew open and he instantaneously reaches for the button of his floor level again.

The answer as to why everything was such a blur wasn’t because of his fatigue afterall.

Namjoon searches every nook and cranny of his apartment and grimaced at how untidy everything was. You were probably lying when you said it was fine. There were newspapers scattered on the coffee table, clothes were still hanging dry and unkept in the back of the kitchen, and an unfinished cup of Americano on the dining table. His glasses were nowhere to be seen. He naturally heads to your room to ask you if you had seen them lying anywhere. Knocking twice, he proceeds to enter your room without waiting for your acknowledgement.

“Y/N have you seen-“ The sight before him steals the remaining words of his question away, his mouth left open agape and eyeballs bulging out. You were splayed on out the bed with your stomach face down, the curvature of your naked back and perky ass on full display, your pink panties the only thing protecting you of any little modesty that’s left behind. Your head was smashed into the pillows, sound asleep. The nightdress you wore to sleep now laid on the wooden floor, not of any use. Did he forget to teach you how to switch on the air conditioner? The room felt incredibly warmer without the air conditioner switched on (and you on the bed, like this) and Namjoon could certainly feel himself growing hard purely at the sight of your naked back view.

God, how long had he been sex deprived?

Namjoon takes a step closer, unable to keep his eyes off you with lust spreading across his body and the need to just take you there and then. You move a little in your deep sleep and your ass jiggled before his hungry eyes. He bit his lip to control himself and tear his eyes off you. Taking deep breaths to calm his twitching dick, he spots his glasses on the study table and puts them on. Namjoon knows well that he shouldn’t do this to you and take advantage of what was right infront of his very eyes, but he couldn’t help but selfishly steal a clear glance at you one last time with his glasses on, before gently closing your door and leaving for work in a painful boner.

You were beginning to lose the weakness you felt in your bones and head, and was recovering speedily to be a healthy human who did not just wake up from an unknown coma again.

You had slept the whole day peacefully in soft fluffy white bed Namjoon provided you with and your energy level has risen. You can feel every inch of the white cotton blankets that wrapped you up, and a chill is felt on your skin as you pull the duvet away from your body. Your eyes widened.

You were only dressed in your underwear. Had you unconsciously undressed yourself in your sleep? You clearly remember wearing a night dress to sleep. What sort of paranormal activity is this? Quickly, you reach and pull the blankets to cover your bare body. Shit, what if Namjoon had walked in on you like that? The thought appeared in your head and you hoped that that wasn’t the case. It couldn’t have been Namjoon who rid you of your clothes. He left for work before you had even fallen asleep.

Wait, why were you even suspecting him?

Your ringtone blasted off. Your phone displayed a ‘Namjoon’ and the option to decline or answer. Speak of the devil.

In your panties, you panicked.

You obviously answered the phone and looked around the bedroom consciously, steadying your breath.

The sky was a hue of faded blue tinting your curtains, signalling the arrival of evening and Namjoon to get off work.

“Hey Y/N, do you want to go get ice cream? I’m ending work early today.”

Ice cream? Sounds sketchy but I’ll try.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Oh, uh yes, I’m here!” You scolded your dumb self silently.

“Do you want to get ice cream?” Namjoon repeats.

“Sure thing, I’m at home though.”

“It’s okay, I’m coming to pick you up at 5. Get ready.”

With that he hangs up and you stood there trying your best to figure out how the hell were you going to get ready.

You picked out a flowery off-shoulder short pink dress you discovered in your supposed home and dainty white heels.

Looking in the mirror, you fancied the you who put in effort in dressing. You looked stunning and you didn’t need anyone to tell you that for you to be aware of that fact.

You secretly hoped you did not get ready too hard.

Did that even make any sense?

At 5 o’clock sharp (you swear you weren’t counting down), you took the lift down. You walked out with an aura of confidence, for you had never dressed like this ever before. As far as you can remember.

You see Namjoon waiting for you, leaning against the car by the sidewalk waiting for your arrival.

Was there something wrong with him?

He had to always lean against something, as if without support he’d fall. A smile flashed on his face immediately when he saw you striding down the stairs, his tongue swiping his bottom lip uncontrollably. Namjoon was in a white dress shirt that hugged his toned body so well it looked like it was about to burst any time soon. And casual grey pants and black leather boots. The absence of his doctor coat you were so used to seeing on him.

You walked up to him, a little too close for comfort but he doesn’t move a muscle. Instead, Namjoon welcomes your intention with those menacing eyes of his, luring you further into him. Your bodies were less than an inch apart and finally you breathed, “Let’s go get ice cream.” He smiles accordingly and opens the car door, letting you in first.

Here you were sitting in an ice cream shop.

You watched Namjoon’s back as he ordered ice cream and it was a sight to behold. You wondered how it felt like to touch his muscular body.

“One red velvet for the man, and one cookies and cream for me.” He walks over to your table and places the two cups of ice cream down. You furrowed your brows.

“Oh and oxygen for the lady, is that right?” You rolled your eyes.

“Well, the gentleman is willing to share.” He pushed the red velvet to you.

“Shut up Namjoon. Red Velvet is rightfully mine to begin with.” You fired.

“Woah, someone’s feisty.” He has the first mouth of ice cream.

“Well, would you like to have a bite of my feistiness?” You raised a brow in suspense.

“For sure. You can show me when we get home.” He jokes half-heartedly and recalls the sight of you earlier that morning.

Maybe he didn’t really mean it as a joke.

You chuckled, with your mouth full of ice cream.

You both left the ice cream shop to take a stroll in the park, together, and honestly that was all that mattered. The sun was slowly vanishing and so were your fingers. You let out a shaky breath as soon as you took a few steps outside the shop. A pink glow of the evening sunset kissed Namjoon’s face entirely and you had honestly never seen anything more beautiful than this. He was different from Jimin, subtle but handsome in his very own manner. A girl was looking at the man before her with eyes filled with affection, filled with intricacy, filled with an unknown blank space of wanderlust. That girl was you, and before you had known,

“Why are you staring at me?” Namjoon questions.

This was when..

“Nothing much. Just the ice cream on your mouth.” You rub the corner of his mouth, even though there was really nothing.

It had been a few days ever since you resided with Namjoon, and everything was going well. Money, was really not a big problem for a well-paid doctor like Namjoon, so you helped with the housework and occasionally whipped up meals—all with the aid of the internet. You tip-toe to your maximum, trying to grab the box of Froot loops for your strange midnight cravings for cereal and milk. “Ugh almost there..” You were tonguing the side of your mouth as you put in all your concentration to getting that damn box off the cabinet shelve. “Why does he have to place a mere box of cereal so high up?” You huffed in annoyance as you fell back on your heels.

Suddenly, a body pressed against your back and a veiny arm is seen swiping off the box of cereal effortlessly. Gosh, you feel so pathetic.

“And why are you stealing my favorite stash of cereal?”

Oh, so it was his hidden stash. That’s why it was at an unreachable height except for someone above 180cm.

You turn around and Namjoon’s hair looks softer than usual, he smelled like he had just taken a fresh shower. The grey sweater he was wearing became one of your biggest weakness.

“Uh, right. It is yours.” You mutter under your breath out of embarrassment. Your inner pig had just been caught red-handedly and you try averting his gaze at all costs. The layer of thick tension ballooned up the entire kitchen and you wanted to leave before shit happens.

“Why are you in a hurry to leave?” Namjoon doesn’t physically stop you but you’re halted in your tracks. He places the Froot loops down on the countertop.

“Shall we discuss about the price of staying in my house?” He calls out to your escaping form.

“I can stock up on Froot loops once I return to my job.” You blurt out what seemed like a fantastic idea. But it didn’t seem like that to Namjoon. Because he brushes that offer away like it was peanuts, with an amused laughter.

“What do you see me as, some Froot loop monster?” Namjoon continues chuckling at your ridiculous way of paying rent.

“Um, not really. But maybe in bed?” You joke, but nobody’s laughing. Namjoon’s laughter dies down instantly and you’re not even smiling. Was anyone in this kitchen even taking what you said as a joke? The silence confirmed a stern rejection.

“Wow Y/N, are you trying to insinuate something?”

“Nope. I meant it as a joke but you’re not laughing so I guess I shall leave this awkward moment.” Namjoon is still a little taken aback by your words, especially since his encounter with your bare form that morning. So you dash for your bedroom, before jerking to the stop, turning back and grabbing the bowl and spoon you prepared, the carton of milk you took out from the fridge—and most importantly the card box of cereal before sprinting back to your room while Namjoon was still in state of disbelief.

He snickered at your strong prioritisation over cereal.

Namjoon did not care much about your alienation or your missing kins. You have a job and a steady income, it was no problem for you to live by yourself actually—but you chose to have company. Humans aren’t meant to be alone. Your job was a reporter apparently. You would return to work .

“You have no family?” The question pops from your mouth when the meatball in Namjoon’s hand is in the middle of its journey to his mouth. He closes his mouth and allow the fork to hang loosely on his hand.

Uh oh, you probably shouldn’t have raised the topic.

“Ah, I lost six of my brothers due to an.. accident.”

You nod in empathy. The figure took you by surprise but you manage to hide it well.

“But they’re alive, I hope. Just that I don’t know where they are.” His voice becomes low and you could tell that he was hurt.

“Why don’t you just ring them up?” You were confused. He could just do that and cure his longing.

“We got split up at a young age you see,” He leans forward to clarify.

“Back then, the thing we used to call each other with was a pager, or a telephone booth, or maybe even our parent’s mobile...After we got separated, it was hard to reach out.”

“Your parents?” You decided to pursue.

“They died.” He says nonchalantly, as if they were nobody.

His parents, he had no clue where they went. He just needed to find his other six brothers whom he truly love and care for. It was until later that you found out they were not biological, just super close. Often, Namjoon wonders how they are doing. He wonders how they have grew up to be like. He wonders if they still remember him. Aware of the sadness starting to brew in the pit of his stomach after allowing such thoughts to linger in his mind, Namjoon chides himself silently as a reminder to not think.

To not long for.

To not reminisce.

And hopefully, to forget.

All these years, with a fear instilled in him, it filled him up with hesitation to search for them. Namjoon was beyond worried. What if they wouldn’t get along? What if they couldn’t remember him? What’s worse, what if they resented him for being the one kept with Mom and Dad? During lonely nights, he can only wonder how they would look like in present day, how tall Jungkook would have grown, where they were and if they were happy. He could only reminisce the good old days where seven laughters filled his house and life.

“Wait up!” Namjoon yells as his brothers run to the playground just across the street. “Hurry up!” Taehyung looks back to the slowest brother and reaches out his helping hand. Namjoon smiles and catches up with the rest along with Taehyung.

“Hey, stop hogging the swing!” Jimin whines to Jungkook.

“What? I’m not-“

Before he retorts back, Hoseok grabs him by the waist from behind and pulls him away from the creaky swing.

“Get on Jimin!” Hoseok laughs with his heart smile and holds the struggling young one back. Jimin leaps onto the swing happily.

“Oh, Jin Hyung!” Jungkook points towards the guy holding a video camera. He lowers it and exposes his face, a knowing smile forming as the boys acknowledge his presence. Seokjin jumps onto the ground from the platform and joins the group for a hug. Jimin hops off his swing and the seven boys hug in reunion. Then they scatter everywhere. Taehyung lies peacefully on an abandoned mattress in their field, holding the polaroid of their grandmother and himself close to his heart.

Namjoon walks up to him, his figure blocking the sunlight form Taehyung’s face. “Why are you lying down? Get up, let’s have fun. I’ve got spray cans.” Taehyung gets up reluctantly as he now holds onto Namjoon’s hand for assistance.

Taehyung starts tracing along Namjoon’s outline as he sits against a big dirty wall. “What are you drawing?” He asks busy Taehyung, rattling the rusty metal can and spraying red paint around him.

“The devil.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen and he gets up abruptly, as Taehyung works on the horns. They both chuckle as Namjoon snatches the can bottle from his hand, ready to leave another masterpiece on the scribbled wall.

Hoseok leaves and sits by a curb, closing his eyes to rest. Yoongi notices and sits quietly beside him.

“You alright?” He mutters lowly.

“Yeah.” Hoseok waves him off. But Yoongi stays there with him, in comforting silence. Yoongi knew, but he chooses to keep quiet, sparing his pal of any discomfort. He gestures for Seokjin to come over and snap a picture of him and Hoseok.

Hoseok’s eyes were shut and his mouth slightly open, deep in his snooze while Yoongi makes funny faces and derpy gummy smiles by his side.

Click. The picture comes out of Seokjin’s pink polaroid and Yoongi keeps it securely in the pocket of his denim thanking Seokjin.

“Ah ouch!” Yoongi suddenly clashes into Hoseok, awakening him. Both heads fling to the cause of the push, eyes only leading to playful Jungkook who had jumped to Yoongi’s side a little too enthusiastically. “You woke Hoseok up!” Yoongi chided. Hoseok half-opened eyes scan Jungkook and smiles briefly, not blaming the younger one at all.

“Look at the camera and smile!” Jungkook tells his two brothers.

Seokjin looks through the camera hole and smiles as he takes the shot.

“Why are you guys taking pictures without me?!” Jimin comes whining from behind and crashes violently by Jungkook’s side, who clashes into Yoongi, who crushes poor Hoseok again.

Snap.

“Smile!”

Snap.

The video camera is fished out again and Jin turns to film Namjoon and Taehyung busy finishing their acts of vandalism.

“You all do know that it is illegal to do this?” Seokjin interrupts their session and films them. His voice startled the duo and they turn their heads to the eldest, mouth agape and shocked.

“Haha, I now have evidence to threaten you guys!” He delightfully sways the camera side to side, not missing any angle of their acts. Namjoon and Taehyungs’ eyes grew as big as saucers and both immediately snatched the camera from Jin’s hands.

“Now, now, this is also an act of blackmailing. We’ve got it as proof as well!” Seokjin raise his both hands up feigning innocence. “We’re even.” He bursts into laughter and Namjoon’s recording shakes a little from his laughing fit. Taehyung prompts, “Hyung, who is your favourite brother? Don’t lie! We have it on tape.”

Seokjin pretends to think hard and says without blinking an eye.

“Of course it’s-“ “Jiminie!” Jimin pops out from behind out of nowhere and hugs Seokjin from the back, wanting all the love and attention of the eldest to be on him. “It has to be me.” He looks at Seokjin with hopeful eyes but only to receive a stern unfazed face. Seokjin shoves Jimin away and answers by pointing to himself, “It’s me.”

“What in the world, Hyung!” Taehyung scoffs with a tinge of second-hand embarrassment of his unshattering confidence.. “Fine, I’ll just go to sleep.” He pouts and returns to the mattress. Jimin runs after Taehyung, joining him to nap for a bit. Namjoon shuts the video camera down and walk to their belongings.

“Right! I brought along a tripod stand, we can take a group shot!” Namjoon unzips his bag.

Yoongi taps Hoseok to wake up and Jungkook pulls Jimin and Taehyung from their lying forms. Namjoon sets up the camera timer and runs to join the other six boys. “Yah!” Seokjin yells as Jimin jumps on his back and Namjoon drapes his arm over Taehyung’s neck, Jungkook lies down casually at the front.

Yoongi and Hoseok just with their same old boring peace signs.

“Smile for the camera!” Jungkook lifts his feet up and his brothers’ faces squish in disgust as his feet comes close to their faces.

Snap.

“Hello? Earth to Namjoon?” You continuously snap your fingers in front of his spaced out face. Namjoon did not even blink when you clicked your fingers right in front of his face. “Uh, yes?” He finally blinks and looks at your puzzled features.

A tear.

The droplet fall out from his eyes; you couldn’t read his expression, but he was giving you the same intuition you had with Jimin—a sense of longing. He must have remembered something that made his heart ache in pain. Down his eyebag, before it reaches his cheeks, you wipe it off.

“You’re crying.” You lock your eyes with him, studying his face carefully for signs of emotions. Be it anger or sadness, you wanted to know the reason behind his sorrow. You read his eyes even deeper with intensity.

Then you saw it.

“You..miss them.” You hesitantly mumble, afraid you were intruding more than you should. His brows furrow in response, trying to gather all his emotions.

Namjoon never blinks again, his eyes wide and wet with sadness, and he never breaks eye contact with you as you read his thoughts. His eyes study your face back and you felt like all your thoughts have been exposed, only able to give a blank stare to his hurt form. Nobody would have noticed how his plump lips trembled slightly unless they looked closely, like he just went through a whole series of traumatising events—or maybe he just did.

Because in the very next moment, he closes the small gap between the both of you, all of his suppressed emotions comes pouring out, onto your lips. The first kiss was gentle, coated with saccharine as you slowly flutter your lids shut at the intimate contact. Once you did not pull away, only looking at him. with curiously interested eyes, his hands enter your locks of hair and he grabs the back of your neck to meld his plump lips onto yours harder. Teeth tugging onto your bottom lip, he pulls away in an awfully slow pace, savouring the very last fragments of this glowing, heart-racing moment. The taste of him lingers on your breath, and a sheen of pink coats your cheeks.

“S-sorry.” Namjoon looks down after he pulls away, scratching his nape awkwardly and tries to leave the couch. The way he immediately turned so shy after a bold move was amusing to your eyes and you catch hold of his hand to restrict him from leaving.

“You don’t have to be.” You reassured his flabbergasted form.

You pull him back down on the couch.

“Look at me Namjoon.” You bring your hand up and caressed his tear-streaked face, rubbing your thumb under his eyes to wipe clean the salty stains. He looks at you with endearing eyes, his face subconsciously leans into the warmth of your palm, clinging onto the only genuine pillar of support given to him after what seemed like an eternity. The tears now flow down his face like a running tap, with the boost of comfort.

The last time he sought solace, was in the very arms of his six brothers, the very last time they held a group hug, before each one of them were sent-

His wandering thoughts to the past was disrupted when you pulled him in for a hug, pressing his head to your chest, softly playing with his hair as he cries even harder under the comfort of your arms.

“Don’t cry..it hurts me to see you cry.” You embrace him tighter, running your hand up and down his back.

Namjoon wraps his long arms around your waist, muffled sobs attacking your shoulders.

He falls asleep on your shoulder while you try to gently lower him onto the couch, an impossible task for you to bring him to his bedroom. Once Namjoon is lying comfortably on the pillow, you pull the blanket up to his collarbone and was going to leave him be.

“Don’t go!” He screams in his sleep that you thought he was awake, but his eyes are shut tight with his brows knitted, perspiration dotting his temples and he’s fisting the material of the furniture—Namjoon is having a nightmare.

You sit right back down to hold his hand, and he grabs it almost instantly for reassurance.

His brothers. You have to find some way or the other to find them. For him. Your only friend.

You head towards the computer on your study table, and began your search on the internet.

It’s been about two months since you’ve moved in with Namjoon. And as each day passes, you got to know and understand him better and better.

Though, the kiss was never brought up again. You don’t know why, but you wanted to talk about it. At the same time, you did not want to put your clarification over his feelings, you knew it would only trigger the lost memories of his youth.

You stopped questioning why he kept stubbing his pinky toe into the corners of everything, why he was able to break your toothbrush into two halves, why he would dance out of nowhere in front of you when his favourite song plays, why he has this obsessive collection of brown bear plushies and KAWS figurines, and most importantly why he seems to just love crabs more than his mom—because it’s Namjoon. Love would be a very strong understatement. You had got to know about the crab addiction when he brought you to the beach—initially, and very apparently, to feel the salt in the air and sand in your hair—but little did he mention about the crabs in your hand as well. Namjoon bounced in enthusiasm when he spots a crab between the rocks while you squint twice as hard to find out where the hell it is without crushing it with the sole of your feet. You chose to sit on the sand and let the waves reach your feet every often or so, enjoying the sea breeze that made your hair dance. You could sense the impressive amount of excitement radiating from Namjoon, even though he was kind of fifty yards away from you.

He had found another crab.

When he has gathered close to ten baby crabs, crawling around aimlessly in the curve of his palms, Namjoon speedily makes his way towards you. “Look, Y/N!” Namjoon looked so happy, it feels like nothing would be able to wipe that stupid grin off his face. Not that you wanted that to happen anyway. His positive energy infects you immediately, and you indirectly thank the little crabs (one of which have fallen onto the sand).

“Wow, cute.” You mustered the best amused expression at the loot of his crab-hunt—figuring you weren’t that big of a fan of microscopic red crawlies.

“What do you mean cute? These creatures may be small but they’re extremely intelligent and extraordinary, individually-“ From that single burst of defence of his little eight-legged crustacean, you concluded Namjoon could go on and on for hours about something he loves. Maybe somewhere in another world, he was a storyteller, an entrepreneur or even—a rap god.

“Ouch it bit me.” You shake the tiny claws off the back of your hand and soothed the area it bit, or pinched, whatever it is.

Namjoon’s eyes grew wide in horror as he watches the crab fly away from your hand to somewhere in the sand but he also reaches to grab hold of your hand to inspect your wound.

“Are you alright?”

“Quite alright..but it stings?”

“Hmm. That’s strange. Baby crabs usually bring no harm. Do you need antiseptic? I can bring you to the hospital now.” He’s flustered.

“I don’t know, maybe I was just kidding.” You laughed at his gullibility and anticipated his reaction.

However, Namjoon doesn’t say anything. He looks up at you upon the revelation and carelessly drops your hand, gets up and walks away. You can’t help but laugh even louder at his unamused reaction, mouth growing wider blasting giggles as he takes as many steps as he can away from you.

“Hey! Kim Namjoon!” You call out and chase after him.

“I am this close to leaving you here to rot!” He shouts back and you murmur countless apologies for pranking him, knowing you needed a ride back.

The two of you grew inseparably close.

So here you were on his free day, watching a movie with Namjoon. You scooted closer to his relaxed form on the couch, craving some sort of body heat in this bloody cold weather.

His arm was stretched out on the sofa top and you took the chance to snuggle under and lie on his chest. He got startled but he did not chase you away, granting you permission to his wide frame.

The both of you developed a kind of comfort with each other, and physical contact (at the appropriate places) became a norm for you and Namjoon. These included the shoulder massages you gave him after a long day at work or the grabbing of his hand when you eagerly want to show him something you found interesting. Or when he smacks your thigh repeatedly in excitement as something climatic or saddening happens in the movie he was watching with you. Or probably when he grabs onto your shoulders and throw you roughly to the side to steal your use of the shared bathroom. And he would pee with your relentless banging and yelling on the bathroom door.

You could feel his chest heaving up and down nervously.

“What’s wrong?” His hand rubs your shoulder up and down. Namjoon wonders why this time you cuddled up so closely with him, as if you needed comfort from a post-break-up or something. Right, what is a break up when you don’t even know the difference between condensed and fresh milk.

“It’s all the same! They’re all milk!” He can practically hear you upon the memory of it.

“Nothing. It’s you. What’s wrong with you?” The question of concern comes out softly, nowhere near harsh. Why was Namjoon acting all nervous? His eyes widened and he points to himself mouthing a ‘me?’ in genuine shock.

“Yeah, you. Why are you so nervous?” You thought out loud.

He glues his eyes to the television and gulps.

“Is it about the kiss?” You finally asked openly. You had to talk about it, and now just felt like the right time to do so.

Namjoon remembers the kiss. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy it or anything—in fact he felt the complete opposite of that. He loved it. He loved your lips, how they fit so perfectly against his and they felt so soft and pure. He didn’t want to mention about the kiss after it happened because he was afraid you would push it away like it was an accident. When he clearly felt otherwise. Kissing you brought the life back in him again—and he would die to kiss you again and again, forever.

“Look,” He furrows his brows and shuts his eyes turning to face you. “I really want to…” He says through gritted teeth. You lean in closer, supple breasts under the thin pyjamas pressing against the side of his body.

“Want to…?” You made sure he stays on track without rambling about nonsense again.

Namjoon closes his eyes and huffs again, in concentration to say something coherent but the lustful thoughts of you uncontrollably filled his mind— especially the times you walked around the house without your bra on, thinking he won’t notice the way your hardened buds perked through the flimsy shirt, or the way your ass shaped was viewed so clearly under the silk of your shorts, and that one morning, oh god that morning, he berated himself of keeping that sight of you etched in his mind longer than he should have. Namjoon couldn’t wait to strip you of your innocence even though he knows that’s the last thing he should ever do.

Namjoon just couldn’t get enough of you.

He realises that he wants you all to himself, in more than a friends way.

All of a sudden, he pushes you off him and you fall back onto the empty space of the couch. Namjoon hovers over you and traps you between his arms.

“You really enjoy teasing me, don’t you?” You are at a loss for words and he lifts your shirt slightly up your torso, massaging your bare waist. You suck in a deep breath as he dips his head and whispers into your ear, “Answer me, baby girl.” His voice is dripping with an incredible amount of lust and he nudges your neck with his nose, sniffing your scent like a predator. You can hear your heartbeat ricocheting in your eardrums as you shiver at his hot breath against your neck his hand travelling up and down your side. You fail to form words and he nips harshly at the skin of your jaw with his teeth causing you to wince. “I’m guessing you enjoy being punished, don’t you?” When he looks at you with his eyes filled with darkness, your legs start spreading wider voluntarily, urging his crotch close to yours, resulting in a smirk forming on his face.

“Y-Yes..” You hold onto his shoulders. “Please, Namjoon…”

The way you were practically begging has him going nuts.

His hand starts to wander in a bigger range, from the bottom curve of your breasts to the start of your thigh, your loose shorts getting pulled down slowly.

“What do you want baby?” He sounds raspy, almost like he’s growling like a beast.

“I want to feel all of you.” You shyly tell him, closing your eyes as heat rushes slowly to your face. You had no idea what you meant, but god you really wanted all of him—and he would soon give it all to you.

You relax at his occasional squeezing of your thigh and sides, mouth slightly ajar and Namjoon can’t help but take in the sight of you legs-spread, hot and bothered under him.

“Fuck, you’re perfect baby.” He finally presses his lips onto your fallen ones.

He groans in satisfaction of the kiss, you tasted exactly like how he remembered, moving against your lips slowly, tasting every bit of you. When his tongue enters your mouth and swirls around your own, you let out a muffled moan. A pool of heat gradually forms in the tight constraints of the cotton material as he tugs at your bottom lip and pulls away. A few moans slipped out of your mouths as his hard rock length grinds against your soaked core in a torturous pace, Namjoon was taking his time with you. He returns his lips onto the corner of your mouth, peppering kisses from your cheeks to your jaw and to the side of your neck. He presses wet open-mouth kisses and latches his thick lips onto your shoulder, sucking and licking hard. He marks you with endless kisses, making sure you were more than okay to do this with him.

You feel the hand leave your side and make its way to your heated core. His fingers spare no mercy, rubbing rough circles on your clit and cupping your wetness through the thin material of your shorts. “Damn babe, you’re so fucking wet.” He quickly discards your shorts and panties, running his fingers up and down your glistening slits, making disturbingly wet squelching noises. Your clit was swollen by his ministrations and he presses onto it unforgivingly once again, making you whimper shamelessly.

“It’s all for you..”

He hums in approval at your words before plunging one of his fingers into you, curling it up hitting your sweet spot aggressively forcing an even louder moan to spill out of your lips. You grab onto his shoulders tightly as he inserts a second finger, and starts to finger fuck the living soul out of you. “A-Ah…Namjoon, urgh!” He thrusts his fingers exceptionally hard this time and you scream. He pulls them out when he decides it’s enough for you and puts both of them into his mouth, sucking your arousal clean off his fingers. For the love of god, you had never seen anything hotter than that.

“Namjoon, fuck me already,” You say in broken breaths, chest heaving. “I need you, right now.” You look at him through heavy lids, your mind clouding with nothing but sexual desire. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer to clash your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss for split second, ridding his shirt and pulling down his pants, and you stare at his sculpted chest and abdomen in amazement. You can’t help but notice the growing hard bulge underneath the confines of his straining tight pair of boxers. His hand grabs one of your breasts and he massages it roughly, playing with your hardened bud that he could only ogle at from afar before. He tucks a stray hair from your face to behind your ear and Namjoon starts grinding against your bare pussy with his clothed member.

He already feels so thick and big rubbing against you just like that, you can’t imagine how great he would feel inside you. You flutter your eyes close, shy of how your juices were staining his boxers so erotically, moaning every time the tip of his dick rubs against your swollen clit.

“Would love to eat you out right now,” He finally releases his cock in its entire glory. “but I have to be inside you right now.”

As fast as the sentence coming out of his mouth ended, he entered you in one full hard thrust. Namjoon had slipped right in so easily due to your wetness and the both of you moaned at the feeling. Being filled to the brim sent your head feeling light and giddy, a smile appearing on your face of how good it felt.

Your walls clench tightly around his length, and he grunts, “You’re so fucking tight, stop clenching..” His eyebrows are knitted and he pursed his lips in concentration of working his way deeper into you. You yell out a moan as he removes himself almost entirely, before thrusting particularly harder into you this time, and repeating the process in a constant rapid pace. “Argh! N-Nam-”

He reattached his lips with yours to shut you up, “Use your words baby,”He growls into your neck and give the skin kitten licks. “You f-feel so big.. a-and good—urgh!” Just as you thought it can’t possibly feel any better, with his cock buried deep in you and hitting all of your walls as he grinds it, his hand travels to rub furiously at your bundle of nerves—you were going to crumble.

Your walls clench around him like a vice grip when you feel the pleasure build up in your gut—Namjoon puts one of your leg around his waist and roughly grips onto your hip, and began drilling his cock into your pussy at a monstrous speed, his rhythm becoming unmatched and you finally let loose, coming all over his cock. “Ahh, uh f-fuck!” Eyes screwed tight, not holding back in voicing out how good he had just made you cum. You feel like you’re floating on cloud nine, with Namjoon chasing his own high after.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” He growls and you mewl at his baritone.

“I want to feel all of it,” You softly mention in his ear and he lets out the most satisfying moan.

It takes him a couple more strokes and eventually he’s climaxing at how warm and tight you feel around him, filling you up with his seed.

He slowly rides out your high and buries his head in the crook of your neck. He lays exhausted on top of you, but at the same time not crushing you with his weight. The heavy breaths of his at your neck feel like bliss, Namjoon fitting perfectly inside you, chests pressed against each other—you didn’t want this moment to end as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm.

“That was..that was...”

How were you supposed to describe mind-blowing sex?

He lifts his head and plants a kiss at the side of your burning cheek, “You’re amazing.” Before pulling his softening member out and you wince at the loss of contact.

Namjoon seems like he made no plans to go wash up after such a sticky and sweaty session by the way his eyes are slowly closing and his breathing becoming consistent. He was laying by your side, pulling you close to him to fall asleep together.

But you had other plans.

“Hey, you do know that I literally feel so gross now right?” You try to escape his hug to make your way to the shower. You were positive that there was remnants of his cum, mixed with yours stained on your inner thighs and beads of sweat coating both your bodies. “Come on, let’s go take a shower. We have to take a shower!” He doesn’t even bother opening his eyes, brows furrowing as he whines at how loud you were being.

You force yourself out of his arms and head to the bathroom with your sore legs not failing you.

“Mind if I join..” Namjoon makes his way inside sleazily, tired from the intercourse and you run the warm water on him, helping him get cleaned up. Afterwards, you snuggled up with him in his bedroom, drifting off to sleep easily, feeling like a lovestruck princess in some twisted fairytale.

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