#like- ma’am. there is no coffee shop at the top of the trail

[faetxlity]

Just a Friendly Reminder for those who don’t interact with nature often (and those who do but might need the reminder)

Most people tend to live in a world of luxuries and comforts very separate from the wilderness and with modern technology it gets downplayed as less dangerous. But it takes 2 seconds for a “quick run up the ridge line” to because a six day SAR run. I’ve seen it with tourists in my area, I’ve seen it abroad, I’ve heard scathing comment about being ‘over prepared’ when the subject was basic preparedness for a 10 mile hike.

The weather is going to get warm soon, people are going to go out and that’s good! Go to your local parks, the wilderness centers, take a hike! But do it with respect and don’t get cocky because Mother Nature will slap you down, chew you up, and you will be lucky if she spits your bones out somewhere that humanity will find you.

#psa #‘we are going to stop for a coffee at the top #‘we don’t need all that water’ #like- ma’am. there is no coffee shop at the top of the trail #it is a 6 mile hike one way. there is no cell service. you need a bottle of water #there. is. no. cafe. #hiking

[fawnandshadows]

How You Get The Girl

Chapter 20

Masterlist

AO3

Warnings: None

The hot sun was blaring down on Elain’s shoulders as they walked the empty streets of the city. Her fingers twitched at her sides because they longed to connect with Azriel’s, so she ended up wrapping them along the strap of her purse to suppress her impulses. 

Mor was walking in front of her, following security protocol, and Azriel was trailing behind Elain. Their cover was that Azriel came along simply for extra security for her today, not that anyone had asked, but the if of someone asking was a real possibility.  

“Are we almost there?” Elain asked, eagerly. They had been walking for almost twenty minutes now, entering a place of the city that Elain had never seen before. A quieter part that Elain suspected only people who were born and raised here knew about. 

“Yes.” Azriel said from behind her. 

He couldn’t see the smile on her face as she heard his voice. 

“I’m excited.” Elain said, as if she was talking to him face to face. She nervously adjusted her bucket hat on her head. 

“Me too.” Azriel said softly, and Elain fought the urge to look over her shoulder at him, but she didn’t bother to stifle the smile spreading across her face. 

Mor’s tall build came to a stop, the sun making her blonde curls look exceptionally light, and grinned broadly at them as she turned around. Her hands placed on her hips. 

“Do you want to take the lead from here?” Mor asked, looking over Elain’s shoulder to Azriel. 

Even though he didn’t say anything, Elain knew he nodded in response. 

He silently moved behind her, stealthily and confidently clasping their hands as he walked by Elain, tugging her along so that they walked side by side. 

They rounded the corner with Mor taking up the rear, and Elain finally saw a little hole in the wall shop. One that she would have continued to walk by if Azriel wasn’t leading her to it. Despite the green trim that stood out from the brick building, it blended in with its surroundings. 

Azriel pushed the door open and the delicate, silvery sound of a bell alerted the owner to their presence. 

“Hello!” A sweet sounding voice called out, and Elain couldn’t help herself from smiling in response. Maybe it was the way that Azriel still held her hand, or maybe it was the smell of coffee that filled in the air, or maybe it was simply the knowledge of having a second date with Azriel. 

But Elain was still smiling when the shop owner came out of what Elain assumed to be the kitchen. 

Dark, dark hair streaked with silver was piled on top of her head in cascading curls. It was impressive that she had managed to get all of her hair pulled into a bun like that from the sheer quantity of it. And her bright green eyes were alight with openness as she looked at them. 

The owner continued their way, a flour covered black apron tied around her waist, and she reached out to Azriel with open arms. 

Azriel immediately dropped Elain’s hand to embrace her. 

“Ma,” Azriel said fondly, “There’s someone I want you to meet.” 

Elain’s heart thundered in her chest. 

Azriel’s. Mother. 

She nervously ran her palms over the length of her dress. 

Azriel pulled away, looking as happy as Elain had ever seen him, he kept one arm over his mother’s shoulders and used his free hand to gesture to Elain. 

“This is Elain Archeron, my girlfriend.”  Azriel said proudly. 

Elain felt her throat constrict a bit, but she managed to lift her hand up enough to give a small wave. 

“Good Morning, Ma’am.” Elain said, her throat parched. 

“Ma’am?” Azriel’s mom waved her off. “Please call me Paloma.” 

She took a step away from her son and offered Elain a hug. 

Elain willed herself to move forward and accept her offering. 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Paloma said warmly, gently rubbing Elain’s back. “I’ve heard so much about you?”

“Oh?” Elain jolted a bit, and they both ended up pulling away. Her brows knitted together as she looked at Azriel. “You have?” 

“Not from my son, of course,” Paloma waved her hand in the air dismissively. “The first time I hear from him in three months and he calls me at the crack of dawn to let me know he’ll be stopping by,” She rolled her green eyes affectionately. “But I read about you all the time in the paper, I thought for sure you were going to be married to that Graysen by the end of the year,” Elain’s heart sank like a deflated balloon. “I was so shocked when you two were broken up, and then of course they ran that picture of you and my Azriel in the paper and I knew I was looking at my future daughter-in-law.”

“Ma.” Azriel strained from behind her, and Elain thought she saw a hint of blush dusting his cheek. 

Paloma reached forward and squeezed Elain’s hands with a friendly wink. 

“You’re even more beautiful in person.” Paloma whispered conspiratorially. She pulled back and greeted Mor enthusiastically. 

Elain took a step closer to Azriel, clasping her hands behind her back and tilting her chin up at him. 

“Your mother?” Elain asked silently, mouthing the words. 

Azriel grinned sheepishly at her and placed his hands on her shoulders. 

“Surprise.” Azriel whispered, leaning down 

“You could have prepared me,” Elain whispered, flushing. “I would have made her cookies, or brought flowers for her, or, or, I could have done something for her.”

“Hey,” Azriel said calmly, squeezing her shoulders. “We have plenty of baked goods here, and you walking around the city holding a large bouquet would have drawn more attention than necessary,” Azriel lifted one hand to tilt her hat back. “Elain, just so you know, you don’t have to do anything to get people to like you.”

Elain felt her shoulders slump. 

“I just,” Elain took a deep breath. “I really want her to like me. You’re important to me,” Her voice softened. “And I want your mom to be happy we’re together.” 

“She will,” Azriel said gently. “You’re important to me, and you know how I said I never had a girlfriend? Well, you’re also the first girl I ever introduced my ma to.”

Elain’s heart fluttered. 

“Your mom is nicer than mine.” Elain said, smiling sadly while Paloma and Mor still chatted eagerly behind them. 

“Well, your dad is nicer than mine.”

Elain’s lips downturned at his words even though they were said in jest. She tilted her head and placed a small kiss on the back of his hands, over his scars. 

“I’m happy your dad’s in jail.” Elain said, picking up his other hand and placing it against her lips. 

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, but Paloma’s warm voice cut through the air instead. 

“Now, since I had an early wake up call,” Elain turned, still holding onto Azriel’s hand. Paloma playfully narrowed her eyes at her son. “I was able to prepare a special lunch for all of us, and he told me your favorite, dear,” Paloma said, placing a gentle hand against Elain’s arm as she walked past. “And I set up a special place to eat outside. Az please lock up and then meet me out back in about,” She looked at her wrist without a watch. “Three minutes.” 

tagging: @123moiaussi @fuckmelifesucks @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @duskwhisperer @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes  @magnolia-blossom87 @sheenabeene @nivem565  @casuallivi @rhysiedarling @elain99-blog @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita @shy-violet-soul @thisloveseternal

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing #how you get the girl #how you get the girl chapter 20

[marauderundercover]

Late Night Trips (Day 3: Bats)

This is a continuation of Day 2. Read it here

Marinette walks around the Halloween section of the store, giggling into her phone.

“I don’t know why you’re so against it!” She teases, adding a bag of bat window clings to her little basket, despite Jason’s grumbling on the other end of the phone.

“Because the vigilantes are known as the Bats, M. Just feels weird for our windows to be covered in tiny bats.” He grumbles, and she snorts, glad that he can’t see the way her face reddens when he refers to the windows as theirs. Sure, he hadn’t officially moved in, but he stayed at her place more than the manor lately. She loved it.

“Okay, Jay, if it really upsets you that much, I won’t get them.” She promises, taking the bats back out of her basket. She really did think they were cute though, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“We could get ghosts or pumpkins instead.” Jason suggests and she grins, switching the bats out with the ghosts.

“Hmmm, the ghosts have top hats, so I’m definitely sticking with those.” She says. There’s silence on the other end of the line. “Jay?”

“Marinette, are you at the store right now?” He asks, and she can hear the concern in his voice.

“Yeah, but I’m at the little one down the street. I’ll be fine, Jason.” She reassured him. She loved him, she did, but he got way too paranoid about her going out at night sometimes. Sure that was when more Rogues and criminals were active, but she could take care of herself. Which she clearly showed him last weekend when she punched that stupid Scarecrow in the face.

“I- please, M. Just, please be careful.” He says, not lecturing her like he’d half expected.

“I will be, promise. See you when you get home.” She says. He worked nights most of the time, but she was still able to see him since she kind of made her own hours when she was working on commissions. Or, she just stayed up all day and night. It was honestly a coin toss.

“I love you.” He says, and her smile widens.

“Love you too.” She says, hanging up and heading to the registers. She quickly checks out and leaves, pulling her jacket closer as she steps out into the cold night. That was the only thing she didn’t love about Gotham. The cold. Once the sun was down, it was like it was winter, no matter the time of year. Sighing, she continues her walk back to the apartment, careful to make sure she stays aware of her surroundings. Sure, she could fight off a mugger, but she didn’t necessarily want to. She just wanted to get home and half a nice cup of coffee. Or hot chocolate. Something warm. She hums under her breath, almost to the apartment, when the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Immediately, she tenses. She starts to move a little faster, grimacing as she hears the footsteps behind her quicken as well. Of course the streets are empty. She’s the only one stupid enough to actually be out this late. Crap. She yelps in surprise as the person- man, she realizes- that had been following her grabs her wrist and twists her around.

“Come on sweetheart, doncha wanna spend some time with me.” The man says, tugging her close and letting his reeking breath pour over her face. She grimaces.

“No thank you.” She says, trying to tug her wrist away from the man. His eyes narrow and his grip tightens, more than she’d been expecting. He turns them so that they’re just inside the alley instead of on the open street. Oh hell no.

“C’mon babe-” He starts before she cuts him off with a punch in the face. He groans in surprise and stumbles slightly, still not letting go of her wrist. “If that’s how ya wanna be.” He says, his eyes darkening. She huffs and drops her bags, bringing her knee up and kneeing him in just the right place. He doubles over and lets go of her wrist. Now having both hands, she’s able to grab him (he’s too busy groaning in pain) and ram his head into the wall. He crumples almost instantly and she lets out a huff. So maybe Jason was right and she shouldn’t go shopping so late at night. But he didn’t have to know about this, right?

“Are you alright ma’am?” A voice asks. She whirls around, her fists up in defense until she sees who it is. She sighs and relaxes her posture.

“Hello Nightwing. Um, yeah, yeah I’m fine.” She says, glancing at the man on the ground. “Though, I’d feel a bit better if you had something we could tie him up with.”

“Of course. Robin?” He says, and she blinks in surprise as a hero who couldn’t be older than fifteen steps out of the shadows. Obviously she’d done her research on the heroes, but she was still a little taken aback to see a teenager in costume again. She just nods at him in thanks as he pulls out...zip ties? And cuffs the man’s hands behind his back.

“You were quite efficient in taking the man down. We approached just as you got out of his grip.” Robin says, and she smiles awkwardly.

“Yeah, uh, there were villains in Paris when I was a kid so I had to learn some basic self defense.” She says, not telling them everything, but not exactly lying either.

“Still, you know it’s really dangerous to be out this late at night, right? Even for someone who took down Scarecrow as well as you did.” Nightwing says and she flinches back, frowning.

“Uh, sorry, that day is a little fuzzy. Were you there?” She asks. Sure, Red Robin could’ve just told the others, but the look on his face? How he said it? Makes it seem like he’d actually seen the fight.

“No, but we watched the body cam footage from Red Robin.” Nightwing says with a wide smile.

“Mon Dieu.” She mumbles, shaking her head. She could tell Jason that some of the Bats thought she was a good fighter, but then she’d have to admit what happened tonight. And she really didn’t want him to worry any more than he already does.

“We will assist you in getting home once the police arrive to pick up this cretin.” Robin says, and she puffs her cheeks out, trying to figure out a nice way to tell them ‘thanks but no thanks’. If they had to wait around for the police, there was a chance Jason would be home by the time they got there.

“I’m sure I can get home just fine by myself.” She reassures them, and Nightwing frowns.

“Probably, but it would be kinda rude of us to send you along after something like this and not make sure you made it home safe.” He says. She sighs.

“Look, is there any way you can follow from the roofs or something? If you guys escort me home and my boyfriend is there, I’m gonna have to look at him and tell him he’s right and I shouldn’t go to the store late at night and he’s gonna panic and freak out that I could’ve been hurt which is super sweet, but then he’s not gonna be overprotective for a week and that makes it hard on him because then he doesn’t concentrate at work and I know he thinks I don’t notice but every time I get hurt, he comes home from work hurt and I know it’s because he’s distracted and I hate seeing him hurt and-” She rambles, only stopping when Nightwing puts a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise and she winces in apology.

“We’ll trail you, but you should still probably tell him.” He says softly, and she frowns, nodding. This was gonna suck.

---

Marinette waves at the roof of the building across the street before walking into the building and heading up to the apartment. She can hear the low hum of the tv, letting her know Jason is already home. She takes in a deep breath before unlocking the door and walking in.

“Hey M.” Jason calls from the couch, a smile on his face. She smiles back, silently noting that his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He was either fighting with his dad again, or something went wrong at work. And now she was about to drop the whole ‘I took down a guy who tried to yank me into an alley’ thing on him. She sets her bags on the table and kicks her shoes off before walking over and sitting on the couch, instantly curling into his side. They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes and she relaxes.

“You okay?” He asks softly, and she sighs, sitting up and looking at him, wringing her hands together.

“So, don’t freak out.” She says, and he frowns. “Um, you were right about the whole shopping at night in Gotham thing.” She says, thankful that he seems to understand immediately.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, eyes scanning her, pausing on her wrist. She frowns. Her wrist was definitely currently hidden by her sleeve, how did he know it was bruised? She sighs and pushes her sleeves up, grinning at him awkwardly.

“Just a little bruise.” She says, and he frowns.

“A little- Marinette, that bruise is all around your wrist. Are you sure it’s not broken?” He asks worriedly.

“I’m sure, I know what broken bones feel like. I’m a clutz, remember?” She teases, smiling softly at him. She breathes a sigh of relief when he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. He shifts so that he’s practically laying on the couch, moving her so that she’s laying on top of him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He mumbles. She rolls her eyes, burying herself into his chest.

“I’m fine, Jay. I won’t go shopping so late next time. Besides, some of the Bats showed up.” She says, giggling at his scoff.

“As if those idiots did anything.” He snarks.

“I mean, Nightwing and Robin both commented on my fighting skills.” She teases, laughing as he reaches up and turns her face to look at him.

“M, Marinette, love of my life, what exactly did Robin say?” He asks and her face heats up at how easily he calls her the love of his life. Did he mean it?

“Uh, something about being efficient in taking the man down?” She says, finding it hard to think with how intense Jason’s stare was. He laughs, a wide smile on his face.

“Ya know, Robin is supposedly the least easily impressed. Apparently he can be a bit of a pain.” He says and she grins before laying back down.

“Well then, at least we know I can take care of myself.” She says, feeling him sigh. He doesn’t disagree though, just kisses the top of her head. Warm and safe, she slowly drifts off to sleep.

---

BONUS

Jason smirks as he walks into the Batcave the next night.

“So Demon Spawn, my girlfriend is an efficient fighter?” He asks. Damian scowls.

“Shut it, Todd. Just because I think she is an efficient fighter does not mean that I believe you are.” He says and Jason snorts. “Don’t laugh Todd, I truly believe that she could knock you on your ass.”

“Language, Little D.” Dick says, walking in with his suit on, but mask off. “He does have a point though. I think she could probably hold her own against any of us, even for a couple minutes.” Jason just grins widely. Oh yeah, his girlfriend was a badass.

Next

***

Taglist: @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess

#maribat #maribat fanfiction #ao3fic #MaribatHalloween21 #jasonette #maribat jason todd #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat damian wayne #maribat dick grayson #maribat oneshot

[funnyexel]

Something About You

Loki x Black Female Reader

A/n : In honor of the kick off of Loki, I’ve made this little short story about him. Thanks for 90+ followers! Requests are open!  Masterlist Mega List

You sat in the same seat you always did. In the same coffee shop you always visited but somehow today felt different...It didn’t feel like the other days. Typing away on your laptop, a towering male takes a seat across from you. Ignoring him, you continue your work. Stealing a glance, you see he has been staring at you. Clearing your throat, you try your best to sound intimidating. “Can I help you?” You look up from your screen for a few moments. He shakes his head, still in awe with something about you. 

“Look. I don’t want to be rude or anything but your staring is kind of distracting me.” You finally stop what your doing, trapping him in solid eye contact. Your eyes roam around his figure for a moment. Jet black hair, that reached his shoulders. Pale skin, that looked even paler compared to yours and a lazily sharp jaw. “What are you writing?” Your face twisted in a confused format. “A book. I am writing a book.” You take a sip of your drink. “Don’t let me stop you.” He gives a peering smirk.

With a huff, you go back to typing. His eyes are still fixed on you. Saving your document and closing your laptop. You fold your hands on top of the device. “Ok, what? You have my full attention.” He chuckles at your words. His laugh shaking you to your core. “What kind of book are you writing?” You lean your head on your hand. “I don’t know yet. I’m kind of having writers block at the moment.” He nods his head to you. Your eyes gliding over this handsome stranger. “That does seem quite frustrating.” His voice smooth and his wording proper. “Yes, very.” You look out the window for a moment before turning your head back to him and putting your hand out.

“I’m Y/n.” You introduce yourself to him, taking your hand he introduced himself. “I’m Loki.” His cold palm met your warm one and lightly shook. “Nice to meet you Loki.”

Y/n and Loki have met in that coffee shop ever since that day. It was their spot. They got to know each other. He’d tell her ridiculous stories about his home. Going on about how his father wouldn’t treat him like a son, how his brother is a brain dead doofus, and how he felt different from others. She could relate to some of his issues. He wanted to better himself and he told her, he was in a situation he couldn’t get out of. Months pass, you were on your way to your apartment from your publishers office in Midtown Manhattan. 

“Yeah, yeah the avengers are cool and all but no one ever considers the damages after their battles. People call me crazy because I don’t like this area.” You talk to yourself, quietly as you walk to the subway. Suddenly hearing screams and commotion, you turn your walk into a sprint. “This is why I don’t like this area!” You slide your card and your train comes into view. A spark of hope flares in your eye. Your footsteps slow to a stop, that spark in your eye dying instantly as the train gets blasted to pieces. 

The creatures speaking their foreign language, you slowly back up and run out of the subway. Stopping dead in your tracks at the sight. Some type of floats in the sky and more creatures. “I should have stayed in New Jersey.” You jog away from the subway entrance as footsteps become louder. Finding a building, you bang on the door. “Hello!? SOMEONE PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR” You hear shuffling inside, you know people are in there. “Please! I Know Someone Is In There!” You project your voice. Hitting the door one last time, you move on. “I hope it was worth it Y/n. You just had to give your publisher a paper copy because it was the best book you’ve ever written.”

You mock yourself. On the verge of tears. You suck those tears up at the sight of more creatures. Turning back, two appear behind you. Push comes to shove and somehow, someway you got taken on one of those floaty thingy’s. “Let go of me!” You twist and turn, trying to get out of their grasp. “Someone!” You scream. Seeing an opportunity to get out their grasp, you take it and get pushed off. Now falling from god knows how many feet, you scream fearing your inevitable fate. A pain hits your stomach, a hand holding your back. You groan, gripping onto the back for dear life. “damn, that hurt.” You mutter as your stomach aches. You lift your chin up, your head spinning.

“oh look at that...a blond man?” Your head was messing with you at this point. Hallucinations clouding your thoughts. You hear the person under you curse. Two palms hold onto each side of your waist, pushing you off with enough force to rip your hands off their back. A great power pushing you away. In the midst of it all, you get a glimpse of that recognizable long dark hair. “loki.” You roll backwards, your butt hitting the ground hard. Those tears that you were holding in before, flew freely down your cheeks. You attempted to wipe them away but they kept coming. Looking around through the tears, you see you’re in Central Park. Somewhere they didn’t reach yet, people were walking around like it was any other day. 

The pain of your ribs comes backs to bite, as you feel two of your ribs break. “Damn you and your strong shoulders.” You collapse, not yet having the energy to move from that spot. “Ma’am, are you alright?” You look aside. “yes.” You find the strength to wipe away the tears, holding your ribs as you sit up. A small pain hits your shoulder. “no.” You tilt and fall back into your spot, blacking out.

You groan, your head pounding almost as painfully as before. “Y/n L/n. Orphan. Mildly Popular Book Author. Three books published.” You force your eyes to focus in the dimly lit room. “where am I?” Your hand flies to your ribs as you sit up in the chair. “Unimportant. What’s important is why the chitauri would go out their way to get you.” You look at the black man. “I don’t know.” You breathe out. “You should know something.” Looking around the room, your eyes trail back to the man. “I know something.” You pause your sentence for suspense. “I know I have two broken ribs from being tossed around like a rag doll.” He chuckles for a moment before doing a hand motion.

A few moments pass, your wounds get tended to, with the black man gone, a few new comers take over. “Why would you let him do an invasion?” And before you could breathe a sign of relief, you get bombarded with questions. “I didn’t let him do anything.” They were convinced you had something to do with the invasion. “What were you doing in the area? Why did the chitauri capture you?” They were beginning to make your head hurt all over again. “I was giving my publisher a copy of my book and I don’t know.” You tried your best to answer the questions but they refuse to believe your answers.

“What part of “I don’t know” do you not understand? I keep telling you I don’t know meaning I actually don’t kn-” Your sentence gets cut off with a hissing of the restraint, they place on your mouth. Attempting to pull it off, they respond with grabbing your wrists and putting on handcuffs. Yanking you out the seat. “Maybe you’ll know like this.” They practically drag you to your next destination. “Get in.” It wasn’t a choice. Pushing you into a small capsule. They shut the glass, it wasn’t the roomiest of spaces. “Someone will talk.” 

You flinch at the sudden light, shining brightly into your eyes. “Do the avengers know you’re doing this?” Loki tries not to show his panic. This isn’t what he wanted for you. He didn’t want you to get caught up in his mess. “They don’t need to know as long as we get information.” You see the mans hand shift to a panel. Using the heavy duty cuffs you try to break the glass. Muffled screams come from your capsule. You shake your head, pleading for him not to drop the capsule. “Last chance.” Loki traps your eyes in a gaze, for the seemingly last time. Without remorse he pushed the button causing your capsule to- 

Your knuckles ache as your hands rip away from the sheets. With a groan, you sit up and dangle your feet over the edge of the bed. ‘I hate that nightmare.’ You sigh. Standing to your feet and looking back to the abnormally large bed made for two. Putting on shorts, you walk over to the kitchen. That’s what you loved about this place it was all one floor, very easy to get everywhere. Sitting at the island stool, you rub your fourhead. Gazing out the window missing your lover. You decided to leave the house. But not before leaving a note, just in case he came back before you. 

“went to earth for a little. will be back later. xoxo y/n”

Stepping outside into your yard. You click the little device Loki “borrowed” from his brother. Selecting “Midgard” a bright light taking you to the desired planet. Your nightmare recommencing on the way.

The whirling winds of the storm happening on the outside abused the capsule as it fell into a foggy cloak. Before you could realize, what you’d done. You were holding onto a bright gold little hint of green string. It was powerful. “Did I just do that?” You said to yourself. The highspeed winds making it impossible to hear yourself.

A loud crash echoed the vacant alleyway as you are brought onto the planet. “I need to fix that.” You groan, getting off the floor and looking around to see which area you’re in. Waiting patiently for a crowd of people to walk by, you quickly step out of the alleyway and join them, blending in. You stop at your coffee shop, missing their signature drinks and food. You sat at your usual back table. The worker recognized you and began to prepare your order. While waiting you, spent your time on social media. You saw your friends and how they’re getting their lives together. You noticed that they were messaging you about how you never post anymore and how they are worried about you.

Thanking the worker with a smile as they placed your order down, you take the time to try and respond to most of the messages. Your leg began to bounce and you started to feel uneasy. Steadily glancing up from your phone, you saw nothing out of the ordinary. A small tap on your shoulder startled you. Your eyes following the well shaven man sit in the seat across from you. His aura was fairly strong but compared to yours it was faint and weak. For a moment your leg stopped but then your hand began to tap on the table. Your anxiety becoming known. “Can I help you?” You ask, trying to continue to reply to the messages and distract yourself from this man.

“I’m Doctor Strange and I’d like to have a word with you.”

Part 2?

#loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #loki my love #loki mcu #avengers #doctor strange #fanfiction #marvel #loki layfeyson x reader #hydra #tony #natasha #bruce banner x reader #thor #new york attack #nick fury #blm #blm ally #black female supremacy #black female #x female reader #x black reader #y/n #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x me

[ezwhump]

Pete’s Visit pt 2 - Russ & Lennon - dehumanizing language, petting, smoking, collars, Pete

Russell didn’t bother greeting them at the door the next day. Pete shouldered his way in, gracing the entryway in a breeze of clean cologne, a black pea coat, and saddled with a few expensive-looking shopping bags. Lennon shut the door behind them and fought the instinct to push in front of them and run up the stairs into Russell’s office as fast as he could. Maybe Russell would even let him curl up under the desk by his legs.

“Bit rude of him to send the dog to the door,” Pete huffed, bags rustling at his sides as they made their way to Russell. He was in his office chair, a pair of reading glasses propped up in his hair, rubbing a hand tiredly over the day-old stubble on his jaw.

Lennon had slept on the loveseat the past two nights to keep him company, and felt a lance of guilt every time he saw Russell’s eyelids drop closed at his desk. He hadn’t missed a detrimental amount of work, but wasn’t exactly used to the amount of leniency in his schedule.

“Working hard or hardly working?” Pete quipped, dropping the bags and roughing a fist into Russell’s hair. He batted at Pete half-heartedly and rolled his eyes, pushing back from his desk so he could turn to face them.

Kitty picked up the bags and stood in the open doorway, rubbing the toe of one shoe up and down the back of her other leg. She’d had her roots touched up and was wearing makeup now, her lips shiny and her eyes bigger.

“Please tell me you didn’t come here just to harang me about work, Pete. I’ve caught up on everything, unless you’ve got something extra laborious in your back pocket?”

Pete shooed Kitty out and shut the door, shooting a cursory glance at Lennon who was sat on the floor in front of the loveseat, a book open in his lap.

“You gotta help me with Kitty, man. She’s fucking miserable. I took her out around town yesterday, got her hair and nails done, booked a reservation that made a dent in my wallet, and she still won’t put out. It's like highschool all over again.” He was bouncing a leg, his fingers tapping along the top of Russell’s office chair. Agitated.

Lennon wanted to bolt.

“Hey kid,” Russell was looking at Lennon softly. “Go hang out with Kitty, yeah? I’ll be out soon.”

Lennon got up and put the book back where he got it and hesitated at the door. Russell winked conspiratorially and Lennon left, shutting the door with a quiet click.

Kitty wasn’t in the hallway, but Lennon found her in the living room, digging through the shopping bags on the coffee table. She flinched a little when she saw him.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

She seemed flustered, jutting out her bottom lip to blow her hair out of her face while she rummaged.

“Can I help you find somethin’, ma’am?”

Lennon moved toward the closest bag, a small matte black one with something embossed in silver on the side. He wondered how much money Pete made.

“No, no, honey. I’m just a little disorganized today. We’ve got to sort through some of our purchases before we head back home. Can’t haul this mess through the airport.”

She gave up after another moment of digging and sat on the couch, patting the empty seat beside her. Lennon wouldn’t, usually, but it seemed like Kitty needed it more than he did.

He sat and drew his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and knocking his temple softly against his knees. Kitty took out a carton of cigarettes from her purse and bit one out, tugging it with her teeth and lighting it in quick succession.

Lennon wanted to say something but he didn’t know if smoking was allowed or not. He made a mental note to ask Russell later, and prayed silently that he wouldn’t get in trouble for it.

“C’mere, sweetie.” She tugged on his upper arm and he let himself move down til his head was in her lap, her hand in his hair. He felt the light scraping of her salon nails on his scalp and thought of Russell’s big, warm hands moving through his hair. Kitty’s hands were cold and it made a shiver jerk through him.

“This’s nice.” Her voice sounded far away, like she didn’t realise she was speaking out loud.

Lennon made an agreeable sound and moved his cheek along the itching fabric of her skirt. It was nice, she smelled like the inside of a church and lilacs, and even the cigarette smell was comforting after a while.

They sat in companionable silence until the office door opened. Lennon sat up and moved around the coffee table until he was sitting on the floor in front of Russell’s chair. He felt a little dirty, a tight tingling in his stomach as he watched the bottom of the stairs. Like he’d betrayed his master somehow.

Pete hopped the last three steps and took off his coat, an open black dress shirt underneath with a matching black belt and slacks. The monochrome of his outfit was cut by the gold at his belt, and the class ring on his hand.

Russell walked past him and slumped down into his chair, moving his hand over Lennon’s hair. Lennon pushed into it and turned to Russell, keeping his eyes on Russell’s chin.

“Come here.”

Lennon must’ve been willing him to say it, but the voice didn’t come from in front of him. It came from Pete. He turned around slowly and let his eyes trail up until they settled on Pete’s neck.

Surely he wasn’t talking to Lennon? He turned back to Russell and set his mouth against Russell’s jeans. His voice came out hot and muffled against the fabric.

“Is it okay to smoke in the house, sir?”

Kitty giggled across the room and Russell grinned. One of his canines was turned in slightly, Lennon noted.

“Yeah, kid. I used to, all the time.”

That was the tinge in his room, in his sheets. Lennon tried to shake the image of his master smoking in the bed they shared, the filter pinched between his lips, his eyes hazy behind the smoke. He moved his legs closer together and nodded, his lips moving against the seam of Russell’s jeans.

“Lennon.”

Lennon whipped around. Pete was standing a foot away from him now, the black shopping bag hooked on two of his fingers. He could kick Lennon from here. Step on his fingers, press the heel-

“Yes, sir?” It felt like a violation to even call him that.

“Got a little somethin’ for ya,” he drawled, proffering the bag. Lennon reached for it but Pete snatched it back, smiling. “Ah, ah, ah. It’s a surprise, for Russ. C’mon, kitchen.”

Russell was smiling at Pete (oh look, brother’s playing nice) when Lennon went to check, so he got up and followed Pete into the kitchen. The muted sunlight washed everything out and made it colder somehow, and Lennon found himself wanting to reach for the light switch.

Pete set the bag down and took a small, black box from it, shuffling the lid off.

“Cost a pretty penny but it's nothing but the best for my brother,” he said, almost reverently, as he put the lid in the bag.

Lennon stared at it.

Slightly on the thicker side, looped twice into a white cushion. A silver chain.

He felt all the air leave his body at once, his head spun, and he clutched at the counter for any sort of purchase.

Pete moved forward and used his free hand to keep Lennon up, stepping closer until he had Lennon pinned against the island. He took the necklace out and unclasped it, wrapping it around Lennon’s neck and clipping it again at the back. It settled, cold and blunt, against the skin of his throat, the second loop stopping in the middle of his sternum.

Pete’s voice was soft, laced with venom. “I think it suits you.”

Lennon made a telling noise in his throat and watched as Pete’s mouth curved into a pleased smile. “Happy to have your collar back, dog?”

--

ag list: @yesthisiswhump @deluxewhump @whumpsy-daisy @queenofthedark @highwaywhump @yet-another-heathen @briars7 @whumpzone @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpadump1939 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whump-me-all-night-long @shiningstarofwinterfun @whimperwoods

#russ & lennon #pet whump #whump #collars #dehumanizing language #smoking #petting

[mcwritingblog]

Immortal: Chapter 1

A Girl and Her Cat

Pairing: Javier Pena x reader

Summary: A small town barista meets a handsome Javi.

Rating: G

Author’s note: Hey guys I'm sorry this doesn't have a lot of Javier in it, its really a big set up chapter for the story.

Word count: 2k

1975, a random fall Tuesday 

I don't know how it even happened, or how I met him. At the time I was living in a small town in Columbia run by Americans, keeping to myself, not drawing any attention to myself. He walked into my cafe and got a small black coffee. He stayed a while, reading his small novel.  

“Hi there, stranger, I got your coffee”, you said as you set down his drink. “Anything else?”

“No ma’am. Thank you”

“No problem”, you went to turn away but you had to know, “Um, hey?”

“Yes?”

“You've come in before.  What's your name?”

“Javier”

“Javier. I'm y/n. Let me know if you need anything. Maybe next time you could try a latte”, he lets out a snort. You go back to cleaning. It was extremely slow today so you got the go-ahead from your boss to close up early. 

“Miss?”

You turned around and saw Javier leaning up against his truck with a smile. 

You grasp your chest. “You scared me. I didn't notice you there.”

“Were you about to walk home?”

“Yes”

“Would you mind a ride?”

“My apartment isn't that far from here, but thank you I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

And like that, you were walking home, enjoying the weather. It was chilly and the leaves were falling beside you everywhere. You didn't mind the ten-minute walk to your apartment. You don't even get in the door before your cat starts meowing at you. 

“Avery, give me one moment. I'll feed you I promise.”. You love the hell out of the black cat but the girl is so needy.

You flick off your shoes by the front door, bending down to pet Avery. You walked past her to shake some food into her bowl. With how she rushes to it, you'd think she never got fed. Silly girl. You walk over to the couch and lay out, grabbing the blanket to get comfortable, a few moments pass and your cat hops up to snuggle up to you. You flip on your tv to find something to have in the background and settle on Hawaii Five O. There's something about cops that attracts you so much. You find yourself falling asleep, Avery radiating heat on your stomach. 

---

You were woken up the next morning by your alarm clock; another day, another dollar. You were on second shift today so you didn't have to be in until 11. You got up and made yourself toast and eggs, making sure fatso had her food too. 

“Pretty girl”, you say scratching her chin and heading towards the door, adding an “I’ll be back later. Byeee”

The walk to the shop today was extra nice. You can smell the aroma of a pumpkin pie as you pass the houses in your neighborhood and hear the sounds of children playing outside. The giggles brought life to the quiet afternoon. As you come closer to the city, the more you hear the sounds of cars passing and smells of bread being baked at the bakery down the street. The bakers wave at you as you pass the front window. You hold up two fingers, gesturing back. Two shops down is Mrs. Rivera trying to hang up plants, struggling to steady herself, AND the hanging ivy pot.

“Here let me help you.”, you say as you come behind her and catch the pot, succeeding in hanging it up on her awning.

“Thank you, sweetheart!”, she says as she wipes her hands on her apron.

“No problem. I have to get going but come by for a latte?”, you ask.

“Yeah. I’ll see you” 

And with that, you were back to it. Half a block down and you come to the shop's front door. It dings as you enter.

“You're late”, your boss, Maria, gets on to you.

“Mrs. Rivera needed help again.”

“Uh-huh. Get your butt back there”, she snorts. She's not mad. Thank god.

“Been busy today?”You ask about taking off your backpack and hanging it up. The shop was basically vacant. The only customer you could see was a college kid studying in the corner. You walk around to pick up mugs and empty plates from various tables.

“Not really. The usuals mostly… Oh! A guy was asking about you! He asked if I knew if you got home safe?”, she asked, confused.

“Ah yes, Javier. He offered to take me home last night.”, you say while walking the dirty dishes to the back.

“He’s cute. You should get in there, girl”, she yells to you. “In there?”, you come around the corner and scoff, “I'm not that interested in dating right now.”

“You should. You can't just spend all your free time with your cat and nonexistent characters in your books.”

“Can.” You point out “And will” 

“You're only 24, do you really wanna throw away that opportunity?”

You could only muster up an eye roll.

----

The rest of the shift went off without a problem. Maria went home shortly after her talk with you. The next few hours included a couple of customers but mostly some cleaning. Mrs. Rivera actually came to see you, even getting a hot chocolate for her grandson when she got her latte. You hold a conversation with her for a while, talking about her daughter’s new job at the school. Maria said something about that a couple of weeks ago. The rest of the regulars got their usual drinks, only sticking around long enough for their drinks. The clock soon hits 7 pm.

“Another tea?”, you ask the college student in the corner. He’s been here for your whole shift and has gotten two hot green teas with sugar.

“No ma’am. I'm about to leave but I appreciate it.”

‘Alright. Don't be a stranger”, you say, taking his cup and saucer to the back to clean it off. You place it in the strainer to left it air dry. As you are in the back, the customer packed up and left, leaving the shop empty.

You walk past every table, wiping it down and stacking chairs on top, then grabbing the broom. You quite enjoy the quiet chill night, humming a simple tune. The night offers an array of noises through the open door: Grasshoppers chirping and the soft whistle of the breeze. You finish sweeping and put up the broom. “The tips were pretty good today”, you think, pushing the money into your pocket, removing your apron, locking up, and heading home.

----

You had Thursday off and planned to spend it accordingly. You slept until you couldn't anymore, got up, and fed Avery, offering extra pets to the needy cat. She snuggles up to you on the couch, laying in the space in front of your stomach. Your newest interest? Murder mysteries. So you are relaxing on the couch reading Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile. 

You get pretty far into the book before hearing a knock at your door. Weird. Then walk to unlatch the door, swinging it open.

“Uh... hello?”, you questioned the man in front of you. He’s standing there with his hand to the back of his neck, looking nervous

“Hi. Umm, I'm new to building. I live across the hall. I’m Anthony”, he reaches his hand out. You take his hand and shake it.

“Y/N”, you respond, smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”

“Would you like to come in for some coffee? I just put on a fresh pot”, you invite.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”, his face sparks up in happiness. He takes your invitation and walks into your apartment, you close the door behind him.

‘Wow. Nice apartment. How long have you been living here?”

“Eh, a while”. Boy, you have NO idea.

He sits down at your dinner table and you bring over two coffee mugs.

“Cream? Sugar?”, you ask.

“Yes. Both please”, he responds and you hand him the containers of cream and sugar.

“Just moved here?”

“Yeah. From Arizona. The owner told me that you're one of the only Americans renting here. Thought I might come by and say hello.”

“Arizona, huh?”

“Yeah. I used to live in Georgia when I was a young girl but I’ve been around the world a lot. Been a while since I’ve been in the United States”, you drift off for a second but reel it in. “ Where in Arizona are you from?”

“Tucson. Wasn’t a bad place to live but I went to college for a major in the Spanish language. I wanted to visit places where I could hear the different dialects and see the different cultures. Thus, I am in Columbia.”

“Ah, you see I just wanted to see the world. I’ve been almost everywhere”

‘What was your favorite place to visit?”, he asks, fully focused on the conversation and not realizing Avery’s furry body rubbing against his shins. She meows. “Oh, well, hello there pretty girl. What’s your name?”. He reaches down to pet her back.

“That’s Avery. But back to your question, I was living in Greece for a while and I just adored the blue waters and sandy beaches.”

He takes a sip of his coffee and asks, “So what brought you here?”

“Need a change of scene. I had a friend who lived here but she passed away a couple of years ago”, you reply back nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Oh, im so sorry to hear that. Not too pry but we’re you close?”

“Yeah, We knew each other for a while.”

“How’d she die?”, he asks further

“Old age”, you let slip.

“Old age? he responds surprised.

“Uh... yeah. A family friend.”, you try to make up a better story to keep suspicion off of you.

That conversation kind of ended before it started, instead opting for a conversation about Anthony’s studies in places like Cuba and Spain. The talk circled around to different places you’ve visited, Rome being a topic that seemed to trail on and on. The sun outside seems to start to set.

“I’ve got to get going but it was nice to meet you, Y’N”

“You too, Anthony. Let me know if you need a cup of sugar or anything”, you say following him towards your door. He steps through and across the hallway to his front door. When he shuts his door, you follow suit. You turn around and you can feel Avery’s judging eyes on you.

“I know, I almost blew my cover”, you tell your feline friend. She meows.

-----

You weren't wrong when you told Anthony you’ve been living in Columbia for a while. The problem is his definition and your definition of “a while” were completely different. The truth is you lived in Columbia for 40 years and in this town for about 20. You didn’t age. The only person who could possibly know is Mrs. Rivera but she is very good at minding her own business. You were one of the only ones who came to her husband’s funeral a year ago. You’re practically family. The town’s oldest residents have passed and the owners of the apartments change every couple of years. The rent is paid in cash and the tenets come and go. Every couple of decades you move to another small town in another country. 

You lived a normal life but you didn’t know your parents. You lived in the orphanage until you were 18. It was then you took up a job, reading in your spare time, and traveling when you could. You didn’t even realize your immortality until you were 40 looking 20. And then 50 looking 20. You did try to date but soon came to realize that you’d outlive them, leaving a trail of broken hearts. You were pretty sure you were incapable of love. 80 years old and not prepared for what happened next.

Javier Pena was about to change your life.

#javier pena #javier x reader #Javier pena x reader #reincarnated au #coffee shop au #mostly plot #immortal au

[douxspider]

— 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. (2)

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) —  After befriending the bloodied blue-capped boy in the cafe Reader works at, a friendship blossoms between the two. However, unfortunate circumstances occur, and no one’s really sure how to feel about anything anymore.

+ this is the second part to peachy keen! (ao3 link)

warnings: implied/referenced suicide, hurt/comfort, grieving word count: 3,575 published: 9/21/20 ao3 link — part 1, 3

— — • — —

“Ellie, sweetie, don’t touch that.”

You were working behind the counter, rubbing raw dough and flour off on your apron, rushing around the shop to tend to the various customers. While specializing in baked treats, you were the main mistress, while Marilyn focused on baking and cooking up breakfast and lunch for eager customers.

Elaine Beck, a sweet girl of eight years, had recently been fostered by Marilyn. Marilyn, when not focusing on Elaine’s schoolwork, would bring her to the shop to watch over her.

You loved children, dearly, but it was difficult having a sweet-obsessed child in a bakery where the goods could easily be yanked. You find yourself aging more and more every time you told Elaine to keep her hands to herself.

Eyeing the clock, you rolled your bottom lip with your teeth, staring out the window before Marilyn caught your attention, pulling out crepes for a frequent suit-clad visitor. “Time goes slower when you’re staring at the hands, sweetpea.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, shaking your head as you organized dollar bills into the register. “I didn’t mean to seem like I’m impatient for my lunch off… I’m just…”

A hand caressed your shoulder, and Marilyn pulled you in to kiss your head, you groaning shortly after and wiping the back of your wrist against your forehead. “Mary! Your red lipstick never gets off!”

Marilyn gave a hearty laugh, ruffling your done-up hair. “Y’er a sweet thing, sunshine. He’s gonna be here, and you two are gonna have fun on your lil’ church date.”

“It’s not a date,” you emphasized, crouching to pull out the baked muffins, “No one goes to church for a date. I asked to come with to hear about that strange preacher.”

The older woman placed a hot coffee in front of a woman, who doused it in sugar, returning to you with a conflicted expression. “Well, I don’t want you stirrin’ up trouble, sweetpea. You’re important around here. You’re important to me.” She smiled at you, hazel eyes shiny with worry. “Don’t want you getting involved in shady business ‘cause of some boy…”

You stared at her, cocking your head idly towards the back, and she sighed and you both made your way there. “What’s your problem with Russell?” You could not imagine Arvin having bad intentions for you. It had been about a month or so since he had come in that rainy afternoon, and since then being in Ohio hasn’t seemed that bad. He had made no moves or adjustments towards you that were defined as uncomfortable.

“Nothin’, nothin’, he’s a sweet boy. Conflicted, but sweet,” she continued, “Y’ain’t wanna be caught up with those who be unsure of themselves…” Marilyn trailed off, wiping her hands with a cloth that had pies stitched onto it, “Goin’ to church ain’t like you, darling, I don’t want you to be changin’ yourself. You’re good just the way you are and don’t let no fool of a man or lass tell ‘ya otherwise. If this boy makes you happy—”

Interrupting, you said, “It has nothing to do with… with romantics, ma’am. I want to have faith,” you mumbled as you turned away from her, pretending to be busy with cleaning silverware. “I want to believe. I want to have a friend.”

Silence fell, and Marilyn gave you a smile with the fruit red lips of hers. “M’kay, darling. You won me over.”

Grinning at her, the bell jingled, and you peered over to see Arvin walking in, tipping a hat to Elaine, who was bouncing in her booth and talking to him excitedly.

Marilyn moved forward, and you leaned back, holding your hands up. “No kisses.”

She sighed, amused, and gave you a bear hug instead.

You pulled your apron off and hung it up before exiting the backroom and curving around the corner, smiling at Arvin, who met your eye and returned the gesture.

“Nice to see ‘ya on this beautiful Sunday,” you spoke up, swiping the sleeves of your dress.

Arvin’s expression softened, and he moved his hand up to your forehead, catching you by surprise. His thumb rolled over your forehead, wiping at it twice before raising his eyebrows, “I’m guessing sweet ol’ Marilyn McCann didn’t let’cha go without a cherrybomb kiss of hers.” He revealed the red stain on his thumb, and you whipped your head back to see Marilyn giving a knowing smirk at you before fixing up dishes. You looked back to him.

“Thank you for that… I would’ve been so embarrassed walking into a church with that on my face,” you sighed.

“Not a problem.”

“Don’t be gone too long, sissy!” You both looked over to see Elaine pouting at you, “I wan’ my icecream. You promised.”

“I did. I will do just that for you, baby,” you said, poking her nose. “If Mary says you behaved, you’ll get an extra scoop with any topping you want. How’s that?”

“Good!”

Exiting the premises, him holding the door open for you politely. Thanking him under your breath, you walked down the sidewalk towards his car.

“New dress?” He gestured to your fit and you looked down at it before smiling.

“Indeed. You give me such hefty tips,” you pointed out, bumping your shoulder with his, his ears turning pinker while avoiding eye contact with you purposefully. “I also needed to dress nice for church.”

Arvin rubbed the back of his neck as he opened the front door for you. “Well, I don’t really want much. Mind as well give the favor onto someone else.”

Once you both settled into the car, Arvin opened with another conversation. “How’s lil’ Elaine holding up? She seemed chipper than ever in there.”

The car started, and you pondered about the sweet girl. She was only fostered because both of her parents managed to go missing, dropping the young thing at Marilyn’s to be babysat and vanishing. “I don’t know. She hardly ever mentions her parents. I don’t think she remembers them at all, she calls me ‘sissy’ and Mary ‘mama.’ I don’t even live with them.”

“You seem to be the kinda sis that spoils,” Arvin pointed out with a grin, causing a feigned offended gasp from you. “Two scoops of icecream for such a tiny thing? She’ll explode. Poor girl.”

You shrugged. “Keeps her little fingers out of the pies.”

The radio played a sweet Paul Anka song, Puppy Love. You swayed to the beat very slightly.

—You'll be back (you'll be back)... 

“So uh… why church, Y/N?”

...in my arms (in my arms)...

Glancing at him, you shrugged. “Why not? I want to see what the rage about that preacher is about.” Arvin winced at this.

Once again...

Arvin licked his lips very slightly, eyeing the rearview mirror before returning his eyes to the road. “Y’told me you’re no girl of faith. No loony preacher is worth that.”

Someone help me, help me please. Is the answer, is it up above?

“I also said I’d do it if God brought me something good,” you pointed out, leaning towards him with a finger up. You then leaned your shoulder against the door, staring out the window, saying carefully, “And he did. I keep my promises.”

How can I, oh how can I ever tell them?

“This is not a puppy love…” you sang under your breath, turning your head to look at Arvin, whose glance quickly skewed back to the road. “Do you like this song?” You asked.

Arvin shrugged, quirking his lips up. “I uh… I’m not really a music guy.”

You blinked, raising your eyebrows. “Not a music guy? Hm, that’s fair.”

“Can’t really relate with all they sing about,” Arvin explained, “usually ‘bout God or a lover leavin’ them. Not my interest.”

Now, some backstory. You wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Are you implying the one and only Arvin Russell has never had an inamorata?” You grinned, placing your cheek against your palm.

Arvin rolled his eyes. “Nah, don’t be actin’ like that, Y/N.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a ‘I’ve been too busy carin’ for my family to even think about messin’ around with a pretty face,’” he corrected, tilting his head at you. “That’s all.”

You felt yourself grow concerned and conflicted instead of amused. Biting the inside of your cheek, you don’t know if this man had any hobbies that didn’t include beating up assholes that hurt his poor sister. You scratched at the nape of your neck before deciding to speak up, plopping your hand in your lap. “Arvin, is there anything you’ve done just for fun and not just because your family compelled you to? Anything for yourself?”

Arvin looked at you, his eyes round, tightening his grip on the wheel. “I’ve… ah…” he pondered before his face turned more red, and you started to wonder what exactly was going on in his head. Was it something… illegal? Or shameful in the eyes of the town’s Lord? “...I go to the bakery to see you. For myself.”

...Well. You pinched your dress, clenching your teeth together and looking at the road.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, if— if you are, I just—”

“You were the good thing God gave me,” you spoke up suddenly, squeezing your eyes shut, “That’s why I’m going to church. You… you’re the good thing that makes me want to have faith,” you explained, catching him from the corner of his eye, seeing a distant look on his face.

You gave a laugh and half-heartedly shrugged your shoulders. “Now we evened each other’s uncomfortable comments out,” you playfully spoke. “So… no worries.”

Arvin pulled into a long yard while the car slowed into a long drawl. With this, he looked at you, and gave a smile that showed his white teeth.

“I think you’re a funny girl, Y/N.”

—

The preaching was over, and everyone was left outside, mostly indulging in conversation. It was a nice day out— sunny, clouds dotting the skyline, a sweet breeze to ease the baring sun. You were currently trapped in a conversation with a rather old lady who was very prominent in getting to know the citygirl.

You mentioned Manhattan and purposefully avoided your roots regarding wealth and your orphan status. Luckily, you didn’t need to speak much, the lady named Darla was more than eager to give her thoughts on everything.

“The new pastor, Teagardin, he’s a sweet man ain’t he?” She smiled, wringing her hands together, “If I were younger…”

You paled at the implication, giving a nervous smile. “He seems like a sweet man.”

“I’d sure hope so.” You turned around to see Preston Teagardin approach you with a smile. “How do you do, miss? Haven’t seen you here before.”

You nodded. “It’s my first time going to this church.”

Preston tilted his head only slightly. “Is that so? Can I catch your name?”

“Y/N.”

He licked his lips, looking at the old lady and raising his brows to give a friendly, polite expression. “Y/N, ain’t that a pretty name, Darla?” Darla nodded. “Well, Y/N, I wanna see you around here more often. Having a fresh face other than mine in this church is sure nice.”

“Regardless of my city heritage?” You decided to tease. While the comment was meant to be lighthearted, a growing resentment was laced behind your words, exhausted from the odd treatment from townspeople.

Preston gave a small laugh underneath his breath. “Nothin’ wrong with being born urban.” He looked at you, and you heard your name. Glancing to your side, Arvin was approaching, a ginger girl at his side.

The ginger girl made eye contact with Preston, and she quickly shied away from it. You paid it no mind, but it was definitely something that would become relevant later on, you’re sure. 

“This is my sister, Lenora,” Arvin spoke up, and you watched his eyes lock onto the priest’s for a moment. Preston walked away.

Lenora looked at you and gave a simper. “Hi, Y/N. Arvin’s talked about you…”

Arvin pursed his lips. “Lenora—”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, amused at the sister-brother banter. “He’s mentioned you before Lenora. I hear you like to read, care to give me a checklist of books sometime?”

Lenora lit up. “That… yeah, I can do just that. Right when I get home, I will.”

You smiled. Arvin cleared his throat, placing his hands in his pockets as he spoke to his sister, “Lenora, why don’t you check on grandma?” Lenora scurried off. When the two of you were alone, Arvin then murmured to you, “Y’don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want to, Y/N. I know Lenora ain’t the most bright in the bunch, but—”

“I’ve been where she was,” you murmured to him, watching his gaze slowly fall from Lenora’s retreating figure to yours, brown eyes suffused golden beneath the luminous sun. “It’s all right. I actually do like reading, Arvin.” Arvin’s lips moved to the side of his face. Taking in his features, you felt your heart race a bit at what you were contemplating on doing, but you did it regardless. Your hand moved from your side to bury your fingers in his hair, grinning while feeling the slick strands against your skin. “It’s weird seeing you without that hat on.”

Arvin slumped a bit, attempting to swat your hand away. “Alright, alright, I get it,” he sighed. Though, from the look on his face, he was heavily entertained. “I know. I’ll put the cap back on.”

“No,” you spoke up. Your hand survived Arvin’s waving and ruffled the hair, loose strands cascading the frame of his face. “I like it.”

The boy you were endlessly teasing gawked at you while a bashful expression crossed his features. He sucked on his tongue before murmuring, “...That’s… ah, thank you.”

Glancing at your clock, your eyebrows raised. “I have to go. Lunch break is over… was over two minutes ago.”

Arvin gave a sheepish curve of his lips. “I’ll drive ‘ya home.”

The drive back was lighter than the drive there, until the new priest was mentioned. “Y’don’t trust that preacher guy, do you?” Arvin’s voice was bitter.

“...He seems…” you started, wincing, “I’m not sure. He’s a confident man, I’ll say that. I don’t know much about him to make a judgement.”

Arvin stopped the car in front of the diner. It was abrupt, sudden, and it took you by surprise. Your eyes traveled over to your friend who seemed to be seething underneath his skin. “Arvin?” You asked quietly.

A few glances towards you and he finally decided to face you with a lack of a smile. “S’all fine. You’re late, go do your work.”

Unable to correlate words with your sudden concern over his state of mind, you didn’t bother to acknowledge anything. “Okay…” you murmured, stepping out of the car, giving a wave to Arvin who only nodded his head towards you and drove off.

You watched his car vanish into the distance of the town. Wind blew past you, petting at your bare shins, and you rubbed your upper arm before hearing muffled crashing within the shop and a very harsh command of ‘Ellie!”.

—

The day Lenora died was quiet.

People weren’t rushing to the church, rushing to the Russell household, rushing down the streets, no one was rushing anywhere. It was a quiet day. The streets were more bare than usual, but perhaps it was only a lazy Sunday where nothing really mattered aside from church, the one day Lenora had not gone.

Watching her body fade into the ground wrapped snug in a casket, you felt the paper in your dress shuffle with the wind, scribbles of book titles Lenora suggested you before her untimely death.

Brave enough to glance in Arvin’s direction, too shy to cock your head, you noticed his mouth fit into a tight line, eyes swollen but with no sign of tears. It seems like he has already cried his fair share. Grandma Emma was weeping, her shoulders shaking as her brother held them.

The sun had gone dark, and you sat on a bench with Arvin, who had shared little to no words with you the entire day. Cars would woosh past and it seemed like the entire world was rotating just the same without the dear, sweet step-sister of Russell. The story had been tense, a little too much for you, the superstition that she was pregnant with the priest’s baby and had been encouraged to take it out, even at the cost of her life.

You gave a shaky exhale while the night’s frozen air pricked at your bare skin.

“You don’t need to be with me, Y/N,” Arvin’s accent-heavy voice murmured from the right of you, “I’m alright.”

That’s a load of bullshit. You knew that. You knew nothing about this was okay. You’d heard about Arvin’s parents before, you didn’t need anything more to know that this was opening some deep wounds the boy had thought he had stitched closed a long time ago.

“No, you’re not,” you replied.

There was nothing said after that. Arvin didn’t even look at you with an incredulous expression or open his mouth to disagree. There was no movement, no anything, as the world continued to turn, the stars continuing to move above the two of you.

It seemed unfair. It was unfair that the world kept moving.

You pulled out the list of books she had recommended you. Her handwriting was surely girlish, curly with hearts for dots, but it was perfect for her type of character. Lenora was a good girl. You felt your thumb trail against the ink stains. You didn’t know her too well, you’d be exaggerating your pain if you said this was the worst thing to happen to you, but it was definitely a loss on the town’s behalf, and most importantly, Arvin’s behalf.

“She was lonely.” Looking over, you saw Arvin staring down at your lap where the somewhat crinkled paper was.  “She never defied her faith, Y/N. She was just lonely.”

Her fidelity was admirable. Some part of you knew Arvin wasn’t talking to you, though, more so at. You gave a nod at him, his sad eyes meeting up with yours, and you knew at that moment his heart had been broken into a million pieces. You heard him sniffle and the street lamps reflected the water building at the top of his lower eyelids. He moved his bruised knuckles underneath his nose and you were a witness to his throat closing on itself.

This wasn’t bold. This was a peace offering. You moved to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to you in a hug.

Arvin was frozen still, tense underneath your hold, halting in his breath. You didn’t care if you were breaking boundaries. You didn’t care if this was something he said he didn’t need. You needed it, too, you needed to see him recover.

Unbeknownst to you, he would actually consider all the little possibilities with this hug. His arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face against the crook of your neck. You could hear quiet struggling exhales and wetness seeping into your dress. You didn’t care for the dress.

This wasn’t a grown man crying, you noticed. This was a little boy. The way he squeezed against you, lightly rubbing his nose against your skin and giving off quiet whimpers of defeat. The world had wronged him too much. You didn’t know everything, but it felt like the tears falling from his face had infinite knowledge that you didn’t need to be told. This wasn’t the first tragedy for Arvin. For him, he most likely believed it was just another dot on the list of infinite sadness.

“Arvin,” you were quiet to say, “come to my place. It’s quiet. Let me drive.”

Arvin had no disagreements. He was in no mindset to put on his tough façade. You drove the two of you to your apartment, never leaving Arvin’s side as you both stepped up the stairs and unlocked the door.

You didn’t really know what to do from there. You both watched television on your cheap furniture, and as the night went on and mindless conversations passed between the both of you, Arvin had gotten closer. His eyes were sore and at the most random moments you could see a tear roll down his cheek. He gave no reaction to it.

“I’m tired,” Arvin breathed from beside you.

You stared at the television while leaning against the couch’s arm. “That’s fine. I can show you to my room, if you’d like to lay on the bed—”

A presence was prominent beside you. You felt Arvin lean against you and rest his head on your shoulder. “The couch is fine,” he whispered. “This is fine.”

In any other circumstance, you know Arvin would’ve never put you in this position. Though, you didn’t mind this, not at all, keeping in mind you knew he just needed a comforting presence after Lenora. You were more than eager to be his anchor however.

Moving your hand up to his capless head, finding your fingers carding through his smooth hair, you continued to watch the television in silence. This is fine, you repeated in your head. It’s going to be fine.

#arvin russell x reader #arvin russell #you #reader insert #the devil all the time #peachy keen #puppy love #3k #sui tw #my writing #douxdamian #sfw #T #multichap

[vminity21]

Even in the Rain | knj [Part 1]

Pairing: friend!Namjoon X female!reader, exboyfriend!Jimin X bakeryreviewer!reader, friendshiptolovers!au, bakery!au, forbiddenlove!au

Word Count: 18,482

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Warning(s):  foul language use, angst involving an ex-boyfriend, mention of alcohol on multiple occasions, mention of infidelity, mention of smoking, eventual smut (potentially in part 2), slow burn, taehyung and jimin are jerks in the story, based on the kdrama, Something in the Rain, i do not own the rights or the show; Rated: pg 13

Summary: Namjoon has been in love with you for what seems like forever. Despite you being five years older, him being your best friend’s brother, on top of your brother, Kim Seokjin, being one of Namjoon’s best friends- nothing will stop him from getting you to notice him, and he also will not let your relentless ex-boyfriend stand in the way of him winning your heart. You, on the other hand, an observer of bakeries notices the feelings Namjoon is starting to etch upon your heart; amidst this budding love, your mind is also confused upon the strange incidents happening between the bakeries planning to franchise together. But, who would want to jeopardize the businesses?

Credit to: @suhdays​ for such a beautiful cover!

The dreary clouds serenade the atmosphere with panging rain droplets while a faint brush of a sigh escapes your lips. Shoving loose hair from your ponytail behind your ears, you steady the umbrella above you- knuckles white from the grip you have on the handle. Once again, you’re scheduled to observe Jeon’s Bakery in downtown Busan- a thriving shop owned by the richest couple ever known, soon being passed down to their eldest son, Jung-hyun, whom you’ve had the pleasure of knowing throughout the years.

Stepping into the bakery- the cozy atmosphere brings a warmth you’ve been needing since you woke up this morning- shaking your umbrella through the crack of the glass door onto the sidewalk, you then return to face the dimly lit décor, leaning your umbrella along the wall. Aromas of freshly baked pastries waft in your direction while you inhale a hint of strawberry. Glistening sweets line beneath the glass cases while heated lights keep them appealing; the other side holds numerous cakes, decked with different colors or flavors- your stomach growling at the desire to purchase a treat or two before leaving.

“Ah, welcome,” Jung-hyun greets with a brief handshake and bow, though the nervous tension crinkles at the edges of his eyes. You, being one of the top members of the corporation, who franchises with Jeon’s Bakery, your reviews are very important- and, with the plans of opening another bakery along with a competing bakery on the other side of town, Jung-hyun is aware of the pressure his family line has to maintain a clean, yet successful business. Of course, with the hopes of the competing bakery, Ji Woo’s Café, signing the contract to officially set the opening date.

“How do you do,” you nod, hearing the padding footsteps of the employees rushing to stand at your presence. One, you recognize to be the youngest brother, Jeon Jungkook, folding his hands in front of him, while his eyes remain cast downward- brown hair swooping over his forehead while he timorously chews at the corner of his mouth. “My, how he’s grown,” you smile, his wide stare greeting yours with a timid bow.

“Just turned eighteen nearly two months ago,” Jung-hyun nods at his brother with pride before returning his gaze to you, “Next thing I know, it’ll be me handing the business to him,”

You can’t help the feeling of dread at how many years you’ve been a part of your job- essentially instructing cleaning reviews or food violations that are still not being met- and you hardly ever admit the gray hairs that you’ve remained to consistently pluck since your twenty-eighth birthday not too long ago. With a long glance around the bakery, you bring your clipboard forward while the click of your heels gives some sort of sound other than the rain prodding the rooftop.

“It is a bit dusty in this section here,” you run a finger over a shelf dawning coffee mugs and other trinkets, rubbing your fingertips together while an employee sprints with a damp cloth to clean the area you pointed out, “And the floor needs to be swept more thoroughly, I can see some crumbs even from this distance,” you hate sounding so nitpicky, but your boss Kim Taehyung, can be, and he expects a lot out of these businesses, so you maintain your duty in making sure everything is spotless, especially since you don’t want anyone, especially the Jeons’, to have to deal with Taehyung’s wrath.

Reaching the cold foods section, you tamper through the packages to check expiration dates, noticing a few will be out of date within the next week, “And, also, Mr. Jeon, make sure to check the expiration dates often, we want customers to be given exactly what they’re paying for without the risk of stomach upset,”

“Yes ma’am,” he bows obediently, while you study the rest of the store before turning to face every employee. A young girl, one who has avoided eye contact nearly your entire visit, cuddles into her thin sweater, your eyes falling to notice her open-toed shoes, “I know accidents may happen from time to time, but with heavy machinery, we use in the back to create such desserts, closed-toed shoes are a must,” though when first starting the job, you used to be afraid to single individuals out, with so many years of experience, it has become immune. “Let this be a warning, okay?” The girl nods in shame, though you give her a look of understanding.

One more detailed sweep, you give Jung-hyun a copy of the notes you made with the direction to continue his work. Reaching for your umbrella, you notice the heavy rain has died down to a soft sprinkle, and once the smell of the rain fills your nostrils, you still open your umbrella in an attempt to protect your outfit since you will be returning to work to finish out the day.

The familiar ‘ding’ of a text tone distracts once your clicking heels round a street where Jeon’s Bakery officially disappears behind you- retrieving it from your pocket, you realize it’s a text from your almost year-long boyfriend, Park Jimin.

Jiminie: ‘Dinner tonight? I think we need to talk,’

Just the simple text, with just a simple intent, with a simple meaning- or what is supposed to be simple- brings a strange feeling the moment you read it. Hardly watching the direction you’re heading, you’re very thankful when the ringtone assigned to your best friend jingles, prompting you to answer immediately,

“How, did you know to call me, right at this exact moment?” Your fingers feel ice cold upon your cheek once the phone is at your ear- and the tiny pain in your stomach is hard to ignore mingled with the bundles of nerves fluttering within your system.

“Glad to know I’m number one on your mind,” your childhood best friend, Monica, teases while a knowing smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. “I’m assuming something’s up?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, brushing past a few pedestrians while your eyes cautiously trail the sidewalk to prevent from tripping over something, “It’s Jimin,”

“Hm,” Monnie hums, the crunch of a carrot sounding through the staticky phone line, “Please tell me you two didn’t fight. Again,”

If the humiliation rising within your chest isn’t obvious enough, you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily, trying to suppress the memory of the past month or two within your conscious, “He’s been going on and on about that promotion,”

“And,” Monnie adds, “Let’s not forget you’ve made it clear that you’re not planning on leaving Busan.”

“I know, I know,” the solitude of the area you’re in seems silent, way too silent, and maybe it’s due to the budding sadness. Jimin’s job is wanting to take him to Seoul- nearly 325 kilometers away from where you’ve grown up- where you’ve held a successful job- and, where your family and friends reside. The two of you have been battling it out for what feels like too long, emotionally draining you just as evenly as the stress from your job, “I just wish he would just understand my side for once,” your voice is hushed as if he can hear you, Monica nodding on the other end though you cannot see it.

“Well, how about you change his mind,” a devious tone evident in her voice, “Give him something he wouldn’t want to miss out on if you catch my drift,”

“You are such a tease,” you shake your head incredulously, “But, you have a good point,”

“Uh-huh, when do I not?”

Sauntering minutes longer past the numerous rows of shops, you end the phone call with Monica before your eyes fall upon a small boutique with mannequins adorned in glimmering dresses poised behind the glass window. Maybe an ounce of hope decides to arise, especially the second it leads you into the shop, trying on a few dresses in the mirror until you’ve made your decision.

The dress hugs all the right curves while you run your hands over the fabric- loose curls tickle your shoulders, yet the dress is modest enough to leave mystery- leave eyes lingering whilst you walk by. Except, the moment Jimin takes a seat before you, across the table within your favorite restaurant, his eyes seem to pay more attention to his wine glass rather than sweeping you. His thick lips lay in an obvious grimace, disinterest in his expression to every word you say, yet you remain unaltered, showing him no sign of notice, until he interrupts you,

“I received news today,” he clears his throat, your mouth slightly agape while your eyes widen in anticipation for what he’s about to say next, “They’re promoting me. It’s official,”

“Oh, Jimin,” you breathe, though you’re happy his job is recognizing him for his outstanding work in his job field, you can’t help the sorrow plaguing you at what you know is considered the next step, “I’m so happy for you,” you feign enthusiasm, but he sees right through you, especially when his brown eyes nearly smother your gaze with disbelief, “When- when is the big day?”

“Two weeks,” He counters, eyes falling back to his drink, “Have to clean out my apartment, and leave within two weeks,”

“Two weeks?” You’re caught off guard by the sudden answer, not even giving you enough time to process, one- that your boyfriend of nearly a year will be leaving so soon whether you move with him or not, and two- the realization that maybe, no matter how hard you try to get him to understand you, he just simply won’t. “But that’s so sudden-”

“Just come with me,” he’s exasperated, waving a hand once in the air, “If you’re really as happy for me as you say you are, you’d come,”

“Excuse me?”

“What is it about Busan that you just can’t seem to let go? We will be able to visit family if that’s what you’re afraid of,”

“Jimin, we’ve already discussed this,” you run your hands over the bridge of your nose propping your elbows onto the table, while you try with all your might to calm the anger, “I have a steady job here, one I will not be able to transfer. I’m not ready to just give up my life like this, what part of that do you not understand?” You peer through your hands, “And, I mean, if there’s anything I don’t understand, is if you can visit as often as you say you can, then how come a long-distance relationship sounds so revolting to you?”

Frustration drips from him when he leans back into his chair, eyes scoping the side of the restaurant while his lips press into a firm line. A thought that failed to occur to you from previous arguments dawns,

“Wait,” you inhale, “Are you afraid… that you’ll start seeing someone else?” When he abruptly meets your gaze, your elbows fall to your sides, “Jimin?”

Shaking his head, “Forget it,”

“Then what is it?” You question, “If not that, then what is it?” Investigating his eyes, you’re nearly brought to your knees from the heartbreak wrenching within you, “If this is something that leaves such distaste in your mouth then why not just break up with me?” Without a second thought, you stand to your feet, not even sure how you’re able to with how your body is trembling, but you maintain your balance while you thrust your trench coat on, “You know what? I’ll do the honors,”

He follows you out the door in a mild panic, though he remembers to leave cash behind to pay for the meal. Declining the ride, he offers, you can’t even speak nor look in his direction, your heart-shattering in a million pieces especially when his presence leaves without even a speck of desire to fight for you. You’re rendered speechless the entire walk of the chilly night- shooting a text to Monnie to meet you at a local bar- her treating you to multiple drinks- gulping them down with the intention of drowning in your sorrows.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to stop,” she motions for the waiter to scatter any empty glasses he can before you down your final drops, “Besides, you’re the one who dumped him, so am I missing something?”

“No,” you drag out the word, your head dizzy from the heavy buzz you feel, “You and I both know this is something that’s not easily forgettable,”

“Maybe you’re right, but really, [Y/N], you’re going to make yourself sick,”

“And what if I do? What’s it going to change?” Your words slur, while you lean onto your knuckles- your eyelids squinted in a hazy glance. Mo’s concern is all you can envision while she lightly taps your arm.

“If he were worth it, he’d stay in a relationship with you despite any distance,” her voice softens, her turning to get you to rest on her shoulder, “Besides, if I were him, I wouldn’t have let you walk away, especially with how that dress snugs your ass,”

Cackles erupt from your throat while you lean more into her frame for comfort, “Shut up, no it doesn’t,”

Flabbergasted, she pulls away just enough to stare down at your glossy eyes, “Girl, you look like a twelve outta ten, would recommend, and any asshole would be stupid to let a dime piece like you go,”

“You mean it?”

“Of course,” she wraps an arm under your shoulders to help you steady on your feet, “Now, I’m going to take you home. Your brother is coming home tomorrow as well as mine, and the last thing I need is for them to smell alcohol on your breath,”

“But, but- I’m- I’m not done yet. Just one more,”

“No! Are you insane?”

“Monnie, please, just one more. Just one-”

“Drinking isn’t going to make Jimin’s absence any less painful, now come on, you need to get home,” Reluctantly, you obey, faltering into your home while your parents, who are retired, stare at you with mirrored worry, you immediately bowing in apology before stumbling to your bedroom. The following morning hits you like an ocean wave, your head thudding while you force yourself to sit up- the shower awakens you just enough for you to function, and the minute you’re dressed with a towel wrapped around your drenched hair- you open the door to be greeted by your younger brother, Kim Seokjin.

“You look like you’ve been trampled by ten elephants,” his arms outspread while you gasp,

“Seokjin! You’re home!” Crashing into his arms, he hugs you tight, the safety you feel with him finally returning home brings serenity to the household. You haven’t seen your brother in four years with him studying abroad in America, which reminds you that it must mean Monnie’s brother, Kim Namjoon, who studied the same program as Seokjin, is home, too- though you vaguely remember your best friend making that statement last night before taking you home.

Leaning back to playfully smack his shoulder, you tease, “Don’t think I forgot about what you just said a second ago! Remember, I am your elder,”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh sounds while his shoulders shake, “By what, a few years? And don’t think I didn’t hear about you coming home wasted last night,”

With a roll of the eyes, you hear your mother starting up food in the kitchen, “It’s complicated, but,” with a quick sweep, you notice, Seokjin is wearing an outfit as if he’s about to head out, a backpack still hanging off his shoulders, “But- wait, aren’t you staying?”

“Mom, didn’t tell you? I’m moving out with one of my past friends. Remember, Hoseok?” 

“Ah,” a lightbulb clicks, “The one whose parents own the competing bakery? The one we used to raid when we were children?”

“Yes, that’s the one,”

You remember Seokjin and Hoseok were thick as thieves growing up, so with a curt nod, you elbow your brother’s side, “Good idea rooming with him, but you better visit me. I literally haven’t seen you other than through a phone screen,”

“You know I will,” He promises, “No more phone screen,”

As much as the two of you love your mother, she can be overbearing at times- and, you can’t help with how hard it is to stifle laughter as you watch her pester Seokjin as he’s leaving, “Please eat once you get there since you won’t stay for the meal I cooked- and, please text me once you arrive- remain in good health for me okay- don’t do anything you will regret-”

Seokjin waves goodbye before your mother follows you to the kitchen. Of course, she isn’t going to ignore the incident of you rummaging to make a cup of coffee in an attempt to remedy the hangover you know you deserve after how much you chugged the night before. Unaware of the situation that caused your drunken state, your shoulders tense the moment you hear his name,

“I thought you were with Jimin last night? He’s never let you drink more than one glass. Very insolent of him if you ask me,”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that anymore,” you mumble against the rim of the coffee mug.

“I guess I can forgive him this one time, invite him over sometimes so I can cook you both some dinner. It’s about time for you to settle down and marry-”

At this point, you’re increasingly aware of how late you will be to work if you continue to listen to your mom banter about your ex-boyfriend, one you can’t bring yourself to reveal in fear of disappointing your mother. Although, your father offers to give you a ride, you politely decline, making your way to the nearest station before sprinting into the building of your job.

From the poker face, Taehyung has while everyone files in to their seats, your coworkers LenLen and Shai take a quick seat on either side of you- Yoongi, handy with the technological side of the business gets the screen to load to where everyone can see it. Chairs turned in the same direction, you swallow nervously when a picture of what looks to be bags of flour are revealed to have picked up pesky moths, and the horror you feel when it’s the same store your brother’s childhood friend has grown-up knowing: Ji Woo’s Cafe.

“This,” Taehyung’s voice booms while gesturing toward the screen, “Is unacceptable.”

With slumping shoulders, everyone knows he isn’t wrong, but it’s the embarrassment of knowing this has been missed.

“Who is in charge of keeping up with this particular franchise?”

LenLen hesitates beside you though you’re of knowledge that she is, in fact, the supervisor of the Jung’s shop. You don’t even hesitate to stick up for her, promising you will get to the bottom of this ordeal being that you know the Jungs’ personally. The bus ride over doesn’t take long, but you figure it’s from the trepidation of having to face a family you haven’t seen in so many years over something that wasn’t necessarily in their control. When arriving, the first face you see is Jung Hoseok, messy hair frilly across his forehead with your brother rounding the corner putting on his apron. It takes a prolonged second for everyone to register each other’s presence, and you factor in that maybe they hired a moving company to assist in helping them unpack their belongings. Or, perhaps, Seokjin is staying with Hoseok’s parents for the time being until the two can find a place of their own. Either way, your eyes flicker between the stunned pair prompting you to clear your throat- pressing the tip of your pen onto the pad of paper upon your clipboard.

“Hello, Gentlemen, you may have been aware, but it has been brought to corporate’s attention about flour bags being infested with moths?”

Hoseok wets his lips, frantically looking over at Seokjin who shrugs his shoulders, completely oblivious to the scenario that may have taken place prior to his hiring, “Uh, yes- yes ma’am,”

“And please tell me such a discovery was not, in fact, served to our consumers?” Palms clammy, you’re surprised at how intimidating you can be but with the way Hoseok’s panicky eyes scream innocence, you know that he didn’t do anything of the sort.

“Of course not,” he stammers, your brother glaring a look though he knows you’re merely doing your job.

“Good,” you scribble a few notes of areas you noticed may need to be tidied up before handing it to him, “Just remember to always, always, keep things clean, and to always store packaging in the correct areas. I agree sometimes we can’t prevent everything, but from what I could tell from the picture, the flour wasn’t stored properly.”

“I’m so-”

Gesturing a hand to stop him, you continue, “No need for apologies, just make sure staff is trained to follow protocols. And if I overheard correctly, Jeon’s Bakery may want to franchise along with Ji Woo’s Cafe for the opening of the new store. If that’s the case, then everyone must be on the same page in order for that contract to be signed. Do I make myself clear?”

Hoseok timidly nods, you being grateful that customers haven’t waltzed in especially with it being close to afternoon; glimpsing at your brother, he swallows, nodding once in understanding. In this circumstance, guilt wedges in the crevices of your mind, especially with it, now, involving a blood relative who works within one of the stores your company partly owns. Coming off harsh isn’t who you really are, but the job forces you to be this way, especially when stressing the importance of cleanliness and statistics of sales.

You’re nearly lost in thought- reminiscing on unwanted memories of Jimin, avoiding the ache in your soul when you can’t remember the last time, you’d seen him smile. Blisters form on your feet from your heels, the pain thudding to the point you hardly notice the tall figure inching closer to your frame. In fact, you choose to ignore whoever it is, keeping your eyes ahead with the goal of making it home.

“Is that how you treat a friend you haven’t seen in years?”

“Whoa!” You jolt, whirling in the direction of the deep voice- heart hammering against your sternum while your hand flies to your chest. Dimples immediately appear in your vision while hearty laughter escapes the handsome face of none other than your best friend’s brother, Kim Namjoon. “Namjoon?” Your voice raises in glee, his trench coat loose on his frame, while his wide smile remains on his face, “How long have you been following me?”

“Who said it was me who was doing the following,” he teases while you open your mouth in fake offense,

“Kim Namjoon, yes you were!” Your smile hasn’t been so genuine other than when your brother returned home and reaching forward to playfully smack Namjoon’s arm, he promenades around you while he dodges your every move. The view to outsiders looking in would appear to be a happy couple especially with the way you chase after him, with the contrived promise of embracing him, when really you plan on tackling him for following you for however long he did.

The teasing soon leads to the pair of you agreeing to drinks and dinner- planning to catch up over the four years lost between your friendship.

“So,” your voice is chirpy after taking a long sip of your beer, the waitress settles the entrees in front of you and Namjoon, your elbows resting on either side of the plate while you peer at him over your folded hands. Seeing his face brings a spindle of turning memories- laughter with him and Monnie alongside you, getting into mischievous spouts, causing both pairs of parents in continuous bouts of worry- and the way his brown hair is neatly styled to the way his brown eyes study your every move, you are thankful for his presence, along with your brother’s, being returned to you, “Meet anyone you’ve taken a liking, to?” Namjoon’s only five years younger than you, but with the pressure of marriage being a thought- you’re uncertain if he’s tied the knot- or, more so, your question is directed to if he’s fallen for an American girl, something you’re curious to know about your friend.

A breathy laugh escapes him while he sips his drink, grabbing his fork to play with a vegetable on his plate, “Unfortunately, you’ve remained at the top of my list,” reaching for his drink, he lifts it toward you while you mimic his gesture, clinking them together while you shake your head at him,

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble, you know that?”

“Can’t remember a time it hasn’t,” he takes a bite of his pasta while you conjure up another question,

“Are you ever planning on going back? To America?” Honestly, you’re afraid of the answer, because if he says yes, then that could mean Seokjin will be following suit.

“Actually,” Namjoon carefully places his fork back on the napkin beside his plate, running the back of his hand at the corner of his mouth, “I hope to live there one day. But that’s only for when Korea gets too small for me,”

“Does Monnie know?” Crossing your arms, your appetite is suddenly lost, for the time being, the subject of anyone else disappearing from your life for a while making you feel a small wave of nausea. Namjoon’s eyes flicker to his plate before returning to your gaze which gives you an answer without any words, “You know she cares a lot for you. She’s been talking non-stop about your arrival since you left.”

“I know,” his voice trails, while he clenches his jaw, “I almost didn’t tell her Seokjin and I were coming back,”

“What? Why?”

“I just didn’t want her to worry,” his long fingers grip the handle of his mug while he swirls the contents within it, “She’s already busy enough with work, and my coworkers I’ve returned to have done enough for me, and I don’t want her to feel like she needs to contribute anything,”

“That’s her choice to make you know. You’re her brother,”

“And I care for her a lot, too. Hence, why I refuse to stress her out regardless of my arrival,”

He’s always had this aura about him that you’ve admired since knowing him. The way he refuses to let his burdens be known to the people he loves- he doesn’t want to put anyone through the trouble that he feels they shouldn’t go through. He’s so young with so much to learn, but yet, he is the one that you look up to the most, physically and figuratively, “You’re a good man, Kim Namjoon,” you coo, “Since when did you grow up so fast?”

Tilting his head, he leans forward with a taunting smirk, “And since when did you start getting gray hair?”

Gasping, you grasp a bundle of hair between your fingers while your eyes widen at him, “You take that back!” You threaten, “Are you asking for me to dig your grave?” The laughter that builds between you two is much-needed medicine that you’ve been longing for, and as the playful banter simmers, he takes a bite of his food, dapping the napkin onto his lips before speaking,

“How about you, by the way? Is there a man whose ass I need to kick?”

Squinting at him, you carefully chew your food, “Plenty.”

Offering to pay the bill, he objects, you mentioning how his sister may be upset if she were to hear that, but you make it clear that you will treat him to a meal the next time you two are to hang out. The night falls quickly, the city lights distracting visions of the stars, yet Namjoon leads you to the direction of your home, making jokes on how you never seem to break rules- or, at least, ever since you’ve gotten “old.”

When the city continues to disappear behind both of you, his large hand gently grabs yours, “Follow me,”

“Hm, what? Where?”

“Must you always question everything? Now, come on,”

Muttering under your breath, you squeeze his hand in a way to show your trust, him spreading a wired fence while you squeeze through the opening, him turning to tangle the brush along the fence as if nothing has been disturbed. “Now, can you tell me where the hell we are?”

“Behind the library. Beyond that, passing the bus station is your home,”

“How-?” You can’t help the surprise, especially when your voice carries just enough to interrupt a couple lip-locked in the distance. You’re nearly floored when you recognize the coworker being LenLen while the male, she’s clinging to happens to have strands of blonde hair revealing the face of Min Yoongi. “Holy shit,” you whisper, though it’s dark enough for the couple to not be able to see who has disrupted their peace. They jog away from the scene, while Namjoon chuckles, you wondering how long this has been going on without the corporate’s knowledge, “How did you know about this shortcut?” You change the subject, gulping at the lump in your throat.

“Do you really want me to answer that,”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glare a suspicious look, “Oh?”

“Other than sneaking kisses to impress the ladies, I also taught Seokjin how to smoke cigarettes in high school,”

“Nam. Joon! You rascal!” You gape in surprise, “I’m telling Mom,”

“Aren’t you too old to tattle?”

“Oh, you smart ass-” He dodges your raising hand as you chase him down, “Come here you brute! Wait till I get my hands on you!” His joke brings you back to the exposed couple from earlier, which then gives you a steady reason on why you should keep your mouth shut- if anything, you are too old to dabble in drama- and if LenLen has finally found a lover who potentially will be her forever- then you will leave it as is, despite it being a work violation of dating someone within the workplace. When the jog slows to a steady pace, your home welcoming your sight, Namjoon speaks,

“Not sure if we ever get lunch breaks at the same time, but if so, you may need to remind me of all the restaurants around here,”

“Is that so?”

“Unless you want to avoid your promise on treating me,”

“How did you know?”

Eyes locking, chuckles reverberate into the breeze while he shakes his head at you, “I’m just kidding,” you finally say once you regain your senses, “Of course, I’d love to. Just text me every day when you start your lunch break. If there’s a time I happen to be heading to lunch too, then we will meet up. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he nods, watching you sprint to type in the security code, you whirling around to wave goodbye while he returns the same gesture.

It’s crazy how beautiful you were before he left for America, and how you’ve remained with the same beauty inside and out as if he never truly left. Other than his family, your face never left his mind the moment he stepped off the plane- some may say it’s because your brother sat right beside him on the plane ride home – but, that’s not exactly the only reason.

Entering your room, your mother bombards you repeatedly with the same conversation on why you reek of alcohol, and why Jimin would let you take it too far. Openly admitting, you happened to be with someone else, your mother continues to pester on how you and Jimin need to find a compromise in order for marriage; how his family are known for their efficacious jobs, how they’re made of money, and that you would be a fool not to marry into his family. Making the excuse that you’re tired and ready for bed, she mumbles that you’re always tired, before departing your room.

Work comes with the presence of Taehyung telling everyone to go to lunch with him, all your female coworkers throwing excuses from left to right about how they can’t make it; which he demands you to join, your coworker Shai promising to tag along, so you won’t feel so alone.

Namjoon: 11:49am- Starting lunch, want to join?

Though you wish you could say yes, you avoid the text message. Following your coworkers into an elevator, surprised to discover Namjoon standing in the corner, realizing his job happens to be within the same corporation but deals with different topics. It’s awkward when your coworkers ask what food you’d like, which you say you’re not particularly picky, Namjoon shooting you a text in a tease of how your taste has even aged. You retort with a text saying to ‘Shut your yapper.’

A few days pass when you’re scheduled to visit another bakery within the city where Monnie sends you screenshots of Jimin’s Facebook page exposing that he has found another girlfriend- one he’s apparently been spoiling before his supposed trip to start a new life in Seoul. The pain seers through every inch of your chest, and it’s hard to recollect yourself enough to return to your job- admitting to yourself you probably missed spots that needed to be cleaned, yet the only tornado jumbling your thoughts are the haunting ones involving Jimin’s face- and the feelings of love you once had for him, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

“According to one of the captions, she’s moving with him,” Monica exhales, “Because dating someone for a week means you should follow them all across Korea. Honestly, [Y/N], I bet this is all a show he’s putting on, or maybe he really has been cheating-”

It doesn’t take long until a recent post is made with the location of their current date- sneaking into the parking lot, you hastily find the valet, asking for the number matching the parking spot where Jimin’s flashy car glistens beneath the starry sky. You’re uncertain of this feeling you hold, but with the anger bubbling within your pounding heart, you know you can’t let this go. The way this girl on his page praises his every move, you even noticing how young she appears, and the lingering fact of him taking her to places you’d always begged him to take you. Nor the pictures he’s flaunting of her that he never once did when he was with you, nearly brings you into a stream of unwanted tears. With all you are, you know it’s not fair. And for that, he needs to pay.

The valet hands you the keys while you ploy your happiest smile. Stepping into Jimin’s car, you pull out the gooiest lip gloss you never use, planting it beneath the passenger side along with the tearing of black pantie hose you purchased from a convenience store on your way here; even laying out a semi-tattered bra you’ve been meaning to throw away, but instead relics beneath the back seat of Jimin’s car. Returning the keys to the valet, you thank them before hiding into the brush a distance away from Jimin’s car where you watch the whole scene play out before you. Watching the girl stampede away while confusion is etched in Jimin’s staggered expression, as his mouth remains agape, doesn’t leave you with the satisfaction you hoped to gain. Instead, you find yourself sitting across from your best friend, gulping down an alcoholic beverage, her moving the glass beside her when she sees the way your eyelids flutter.

“Shouldn’t you be rejoicing?” She questions, your chest feeling emptier than it had before you gained your buzz, “You got your revenge for goodness sakes!”

“Oomf,” you plop your head into your palms before rubbing them slowly along your face, “It’s not that. I mean, Jimin got what he deserved, but that’s not the reason I feel like shit,”

“Okay?” Mo shrugs, “Then, what is it? I know I’ve pestered about your needing of higher standards of men, but really, [Y/N], you deserve so much more than a player like that,”

“I just,” you lazily sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I really thought I knew what love was, you know?” You pause, “With Jimin, the way we met, and the way we clicked at first… I guess I just don’t understand where it all went wrong. Or, what made us fall apart… Maybe, we were never in love after all,”

“Let me ask you this,” your best friend leans forward, playing with a loose string from her sleeve, she tilts her head while she investigates your hazy stance, “What is true love?”

The question isn’t one to shock you; it’s one to make you think, really looking into the depths of your memories to a person you may have experienced love with, and as your eyes flicker upon her face, the answer becomes quite clear, especially when you lean back, the realization bringing the truth you never thought you’d find, “I… I-I don’t know,”

“Exactly,” Monnie points a quick index finger in your direction.

“I’ve never been in love,” you murmur, trying to make sense of this, and wishing you would have realized it sooner.

“If you were in love with Jimin, you would have left Busan behind in a heartbeat. And, if Jimin really had been in love with you, he would have settled for a distant relationship until you made your choice. So why couldn’t either of you find a compromise?”

“Because… we didn’t want to,”

“Because neither of you wanted to,” Monnie smiles deviously before sliding your glass back to your hand that curls around it instinctively, “Now, drink up,” she says, refilling your glass to the brim. Light giggling sounds for the next hour until Namjoon walks in with the intent of checking on his sister. It’s a surprise when he sees you occupying the seat across from her, and as he teases lightly at why Monnie let you get so wasted, she then asks him to give you a ride home.

His heart flutters at the thought of once again getting to spend time with you but he refuses to show it in the slightest; hugging onto Monnie tightly, you drunkenly plant numerous kisses upon her cheeks while she ushers you into the passenger side of Namjoon’s car- you uttering slurred words of songs you hope to karaoke to whenever you see your best friend again- her punching Namjoon’s shoulder for making a joke on who’s going to pay him for being your chauffeur which then prompts him to joke on how violent the two of you are.

Silence becomes too overwhelming while Namjoon keeps his focus on the road, yet all you can think about is how the alcohol hasn’t done its job in letting you forget about your breakup with Jimin. When tears stain your cheeks, Namjoon pulls over, leaving the car until your tears dry- not wanting you to feel embarrassed for crying in his company. Though he wishes nothing more than to hold you in his arms, he knows he can’t.

Your whines to why he stopped the car are what brings him back to the driver’s side, you falling asleep the rest of the way home while he lovingly stares at the peace on your slumbering face. The way your mouth hangs open, cuddled into the corner of the window, he can’t help how cute you look, pulling out his phone to snag a quick picture.

Forgetting his ringer happens to still be on, the sound of the camera jolts you awake, you groggily wiping at your mouth while glaring a hole through his head, “Did you just?”

“No,” Namjoon nearly drops his phone from being caught in the act, sliding lower into his seat as if to hide from you. Sitting up slowly, your eyes dazed from still overcoming your nap, you peer at him shadily,

“Yes, I did, I saw it,”

“Then, why did you ask?”

“I- Hand it over,” palm up, you reach over with the operation to delete the picture, chagrin flooding your features humorously of the thought of him using it against you by posting it on social media for all your mutuals to see.

Jumping out of the car, he can’t help but laugh at your tiny frame, yet again, chasing him down while he holds the phone high above his head. There’s no hope- you can’t reach it- but that doesn’t stop you from trying, “Namjoon, you better delete it, or-”

“Or what? If only you could reach it, then I’d let you win,”

“Oh,” you groan, pressing your forehead into his chest from the exhaustion of the exercise you didn’t plan on doing, “You do realize you are disparaging your elder, correct? My bones feel cracked now thanks to you, Legs,”

He can’t help the way he smiles at you, so wide, that he nearly catches himself, hoping that you will not notice the longing he has to tilt your chin up and plant a sweet kiss to your rosy lips. The rest of the walk to your home continues in spirited bickering- him refusing to delete the picture of you until you accept the fate- igniting the promise you will get him back eventually.

It’s hard for you to look away from him once you type in your security code- the strange jitters you have in your heart at the thought of parting from him- the feeling of missing him, though you know you will see him again. He smiles at you with the same dimpled grin he always gives when looking at you- waving goodbye, you trying to decipher these feelings you’ve never felt before.

The persistent thoughts soon leave, especially when greeted at work with the panic of finding out the contract has yet to be approved for the Jeons and the Jungs to open the new bakery together.

“I thought Taehyung said it would be taken care of?” Your eyes are frantic while you search LenLen’s- her hand running through her hair to then pressing her fingertips to her lips.

“He handed me the documents to give to Yoongi to sign for the approval. I don’t- I don’t understand how it wouldn’t have gotten signed- I highlighted the words for an immediate agreement.”

The tension you bury from the knowledge of LenLen and Yoongi’s relationship makes you think he would have gotten the papers considering it was a love interest who delivered them to him. Shaking your head, you briskly walk to his office, him immediately standing to his feet- numerous folders holding documents crowd his desk, “Hello, Mr. Min, I gather you’re doing well?”

His brown eyes seem alarmed, his shoulders tensing in your presence from the way you hold your stance, “Why, yes, yes I am,”

“And I’m assuming you know why I’m here?”

“Word- word gets around,”

“Mhm, I see,” you nod, though you refuse to cower, “So, did you or did you not receive a document regarding the franchise of the Jeons and the Jungs?”

When an ‘oh’ falls on his lips, his eyes enlarge in confusion which you can’t help, but furrow your eyebrows at the sudden shift in his expression, “Mr. Min?”

“I thought- I thought you were referring to the coffee stain in the break room,”

You wish you could feel a hint of laughter upon this misunderstanding, but instead, you clear your throat while you wave away the reply, “No, Mr. Min, I am addressing the documents of approval in order for the Jeons and the Jungs to be able to open up the new bakery on the other side of town. Now, it has come to my attention that LenLen brought you the documents to sign?”

“Not-not to my knowledge,” he stammers, scratching at the back of his neck while sweat beads form along his forehead. In the end, the discussion results in Taehyung’s office, him harshly accusing the ordeal to be your fault, though you callously want to reveal LenLen and Yoongi’s affair being you have a theory as to why he wasn’t aware of the document. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Ultimately, you hope everything will get taken care of with the promise that it won’t happen again, LenLen texting you an apology for not double checking on whether Yoongi received the papers or not.

When faced with Seokjin, who continues to ask you for updates, just to be let down again- you can’t help the frustration building to the point you want to explode. It’s when the next day comes, and lunch break finally rolls around, that there’s only one person you want to see. Sending a quick text, Namjoon meets you at a local restaurant, one he happens to pick out, the sight of him bringing a breath of fresh air you desperately needed.

Just a dull, thin sweatshirt and jeans, yet he shines more than anyone else bustling on the streets. When the waitress seats both of you- each ordering- Namjoon makes a joke on if you’d want wine, of course, you wanting to object since you are working today, yet he teases the thought of you needing to break a rule already.

“You are just out to get me, aren’t you?” You say between slurps of your noodles.

“The day that I’m not is the day you should be worried,” he counters with a side grin poised upon his thick lips. Sitting back, he moves his sleeves to rest mid-arm while he continues to watch you.

“Worried? I think I’d throw a party,”

“What?” He gapes, “A party without the main attraction?” He jabs a thumb at himself, “We will see how many will even show up,”

“Must you always have the last word?”

You’re grateful he was able to join you for lunch, especially when he listens to your vague rant on the stress your job holds, walking with you to the elevator of your work building before the two of you part ways. When night comes, you clocking out to head to the bus station, you make your way out into the warm breeze, when the figure of a familiar face nearly knocks you off your feet, yet you stand firm, swallowing the lump in your throat until his steps halt before you.

“[Y/N],” Jimin’s eyes hold worry while he stares into your hardened gaze.

“Jimin,” you grit your teeth, biting back the foul words wanting to tumble off your tongue. You’re not surprised when he asks why you haven’t returned his calls, because, with every message he sends, you delete it, refusing to let him get to you. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we- can we go somewhere with fewer people?” He pleads which you directly decline. Initiating an argument, both of you are unaware of the gathering audience, standing behind the glass doors, watching the flustered pair of you whispering frustrations that sail off with the wind. LenLen and Shai happens to be two witnesses, joining them Namjoon, whose heart nearly breaks from the man, he can tell, will not leave your side unless you comply.

The rage is unsettling, especially with the way he sees you trying to break free from the man’s grip- prompting Namjoon to come to your rescue, wrapping his arm around you to free you from Jimin’s relentless remarks.

“What- what are you doing?” You whisper in surprise, swiping your hair from your vision while your widened eyes sweep along Namjoon’s unreadable face.

“I’m your boyfriend, okay? Act natural,”

You can hardly process what he’s trying to do, especially when Jimin becomes an object in the path causing you and Namjoon to pause in place.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jimin gestures a stiff digit toward Namjoon, whose jaw clenches in return, “Who is this?”

“I- uh- I- yes, I-” You stutter, uncertain on if you even heard Namjoon right to begin with. Did he just call himself your boyfriend? And, how come that sounds like such wonderful music to your ears?

“Pretty sure that’s my question to ask,”

Jimin’s taken aback, waving off Namjoon’s statement as if it’s useless, “I’m [Y/N]’s boyfriend, so, therefore, it’s my right to ask, you bastard,”

“Mm, is that so?” The tension is smothering especially when Namjoon takes a small step forward, his arm guarding you while he holds an angered glance- not breaking eye contact with Jimin whose shoulders slump with the slightest fear he doesn’t want to show. “If I were you, I would fuck off,”

“Excuse me? What the hell did you just say?”

“I said to fuck. Off,” Namjoon’s voice is thick with vile, your hand tightening around his wrist while you gulp over the pounding of your heart.

“Who are you telling to-”

“Unless you want to be reported to the cops for harassment, I would advise you to walk away,” it doesn’t take but a millisecond for Namjoon to slip out his phone, immediately calling his sister, unbeknownst to you and Jimin, Monnie’s voice in a panic when Namjoon continues talking over her as if he is speaking to the authorities. Jimin, reluctantly, scampers off- Namjoon repudiating to leave your side when you lower your glance, gradually walking in the direction of your home.

“Hey…” His voice is soft after a few minutes of silence- you’re so lost in your thoughts, it’s hard to distinguish the fog wanting to encompass your mind. When you don’t hear him at first, he merely pauses, placing his fingers underneath your chin in a manner to get you to face him. Meeting his eyes, there’s a concern there that you’ve never seen a man hold for you, and it takes you a second to fully understand it. “Talk to me,” he murmurs- his frame so close to colliding with yours in a warm embrace, you nearly give in.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying to look away, but Namjoon tilts his head until your eyes meet again,

“Why are you sorry, [Y/N]? There is not a thing you have done wrong here,”

You sigh in exhaustion, wishing nothing more than to slip underneath your covers where you long for Namjoon to hold you, though you continuously deny it.

“[Y/N],” the way he says your name in such an eloquent whisper brings you to hushed tears, “I don’t think you realize how lucky you are. You could have married the man for the rest of your life, but you didn’t,”

Never thinking of it in that way, relief floods your senses when Namjoon reminds you that indeed, you are lucky, “Maybe, I shouldn’t have such bad taste in men,” you mutter, him chuckling at you before ghosting his fingers from your chin, giving you space enough to back away.

“Monnie and I have been saying the same exact thing for years, it’s about time you join our side,”

You nudge his arm with your knuckles while you glimpse at him with a hearty smirk, “Why do you make everything so much better?”

“Because I’m the best,”

His gloating is typical Namjoon- humorous, yet charming- causing contagious laughter the rest of the walk, leaving your heart with the subtle longing even when his presence leaves to return to his own home- you wishing nothing more than to follow him instead. Because for once, after years and years of knowing him, you ponder: he always finds a way to make your world brighter, even if he is nearly falling apart- it’s you who in return molds the halves of his heart together- signifying that there is something special – something that flickers the hope that maybe you do have feelings for him you have yet to admit.

It’s the meeting your work holds that ends with Shai timidly glimpsing at you here and there; your shoulders tensing especially with the rumored whispers of theories as to what was witnessed from the previous night with Jimin. Scattering bodies heading in different directions to their office leaves a lingering Shai behind in your presence, still feeling her stare while you compile your things to carry,

“Shai, I appreciate the recognition of the makeup I actually put on today, but is there a reason why you’re acting strange?”

Caught off guard, her mouth becomes agape, her cheeks reddening while she keeps her eyes panning the table, “I just have a question, um, so you know the man from last night?”

“Yeah?” You drag out the word slowly, shoulders rigid as you’re uncertain as to which man she could be referring to.

“Not-not your ex, but-but the tall one,”

Nodding, you bite the corner of your lip, urging her to continue whatever point she’s trying to make,

“Are you interested in him?”

The question hasn’t been asked of you, though you’ve realized you have spent a lot of time with Namjoon ever since his return from America. Why you feel so cornered, you can’t quite pinpoint? Because is it wrong to say no when in fact, it’s possible?

“Well, if not, it’s okay for me to, you know, ask him out, right?” She proceeds to ask if he’s single- waiting for your confirmation as if that’s information you would happen to know. She offers to help carry your things to your office once you answer her question with a terse nod- giving her permission to talk to Namjoon, though it’s not really your place.

As if the day couldn’t get any ‘worse’, or in a better term, ‘annoying’, Taehyung invites the staff to another luncheon, this time involving alcoholic beverages, him getting tipsy enough to subtly make a rude joke toward you. Though you’ve grown used to him over the years, you’ve learned how to tolerate him despite the gossip from the women of the workplace who deem you his favorite due to the fact you handle his demises. After the gathering ends, he proceeds to invite everyone to a karaoke bar not far away- all the women making excuses, in which you make mention you have a lot of work to finish.

“It’s not like you have a man waiting on you at home, come on, let’s go,” he counters- Shai standing beside him helpless while she watches your expression harden in offense.

“I’m pretty sure I never refused to go even when I was in a relationship,” you retort, rendering him speechless, leading him to shove his hands in his pockets out of discomfort. Prancing away with your head held high, you stop to purchase a few of your favorite beers before entering the work building. Stunned the moment you recognize the slim legs of Namjoon who you figure has gotten out of work late.

“Namjoon? It’s late, what are you still doing here?” The happiness exuberating from your smile flickers a hope you can’t bring yourself to ignore.

“Boss had me doing a few extra things, but what are you doing back at the office? Isn’t today your half day?”

“Ah,” you shake your head, “I know, but I still have a few notes I must finish. Also, times I need to schedule to evaluate more bakeries… Are you doing anything later?” Wanting to be in his company is the first thing on your mind, yet your face falls in disappointment when he mentions he has plans.

“Yeah, actually I’m going to the club tonight. Seokjin called asking if I’d like to go with him and Hoseok,”

Curse you, Seokjin, you cringe mentally, but you put on your best smile in an effort to hide the pathetic hope you can’t believe you’re feeling.

“Oh, I see, planning to pick up a few ladies?” You say the word as if it’s a song, though you want to regurgitate at even saying out loud. Shrugging his shoulders, a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth,

“I have plenty of those, so no,”

In your mind, you know it’s just a light-hearted joke, so why does it hurt to think of him with another woman? Fresh out of a relationship, and yet, you’re upset about a childhood friend wanting to mingle with women with the possibility of finding the one, he will marry. When his phone begins to ring, he gives you an apologetic glance which you return with a nod of understanding, Parting ways, he stares after you while you power walk to the elevator, him unaware of your eyes turning to stare at his back while he heads out of the building.

When in the realm of safety, called your office, you switch on music from your favorite KPOP band letting the music flow through the room. A buzz forms after you gulp the first beer, swaying your body with the music. Namjoon, can’t bring himself to leave, and last minute, he texts your brother and Hoseok, canceling for the evening, not revealing the reason out loud that his heart wants to be planted right next to yours.

The elevator seems to be against him, especially with how slow it rises to your floor, him exiting the moment the doors open. Rounding a corner, his eyes scan the glass windows until he sees your silhouette- twirling around the room, flipping your hair from side to side, completely lost in your own little world- oblivious to the now smiling Namjoon whose heart dances with joy overcoming his countenance at seeing you frolic among the room.  

There’s the woman he’s fallen so deeply in love with, and there’s the woman, he one-day hopes, he will hold in his arms for the rest of his life. Besides, one would find it blatantly obvious, as an outsider looking in, especially with the shiny smile plastered upon Namjoon’s face that he is irrevocably entranced by the soul, being you, dancing from side to side unaware to his presence outside your office walls. There is no one like you- there has never been anyone like you in his eyes- someone who he’s secretly admired from afar for all these years but remains to bury his feelings for the fear of what you would say. What your family would say. What his sister would say.

While you continue sashaying to the rhythm of the song echoing in your office, Namjoon disappears out of sight from the glass windows to dial your number. When the screen lights up with his name, you have the inkling to answer, but deciding to ignore it, you whirl around to sway your hips to the beat wondering why he would be calling with the supposed plans he has with your brother. It doesn’t take but a second before you hear a voice overpower the pounding music,

“Why aren’t you taking my call?”

Your heart, as if on cue, thrums whilst a look of shock overwhelms your expression, prompting you to hide at first in embarrassment before rising gradually to face Namjoon who is stifling a laugh while waving slowly to greet you.

“Kim Namjoon! What the hell are you doing here?” You simulate as though you’re annoyed, but the joy of his arrival isn’t something you necessarily want to admit, for you too, have the uncertainty on how to explain the way he’s stirring such feelings you’ve never considered before. With his sly smile, he repeats the question that interrupted your distraction from “work”, but you won’t let him win this argument that easily, “Excuse me, sir, I was working until you decided to intrude on my vibe,”

“Vibe? Is that what the cool kids are saying these days?”

The offensive gape you glare amuses him that you can’t help but boop his smirk with your fingertips- chasing him down with the threat of catching him, yet he zigs zags through your office effortlessly without even an ounce of exhaustion. When the unexpected arrival of a drunken Shai echoes within the hallways, the panic that overwhelms you is enough to shove Namjoon to hide behind one of the bookcases aligning the wall far enough to where Shai may not notice. Namjoon, who is unaware of Shai’s attraction to him, you suppress the thought while you usher her to take a seat, swiping her hair out of her face while tears stream down her cheeks,

“Shai? What’s going on?” When you remember Taehyung, along with Min Yoongi, and other coworkers had an alcoholic planned evening, your heart pangs with guilt for leaving Shai alone. She silences the moment she recognizes the knowledge behind your almond eyes, “It’s Taehyung, isn’t it?”

She nods quickly, keeping her head lowered, fiddling her fingers while her hazy eyes sweep along her tense lap, “He wouldn’t stop talking about my sister and how she broke his heart,”

“Damnit,” you whisper, knowing very well Namjoon is uninformed of the mean words Taehyung flaunts toward you every now and then due to his personal pent up anger. Though you decided not to attend the event tonight, you highly regret having Shai fend for herself. “Shai, I’m so sorry,”

“It’s not like anyone will stand up to him. He literally insults you about your break up with Jimin all the time, yet you let him,” you know she’s intoxicated, especially with the way her words slur, but despite her state of mind, you know what she’s saying is right. Namjoon’s chest fumes with anger at what he’s hearing- wishing nothing more than to approach your boss with the sheer intention of slamming his knuckles into his face; but, for the sake of your job, he knows you may be angry with him if he were to jeopardize that. “And,” Shai presses her fingers to her forehead, “LenLen apparently couldn’t come pick me up because she had some business to attend to. I asked Yoongi about it, but he was no use,”

“Yoongi?” From the way Shai talks, it seems as if she is aware about the relationship you accidentally stumbled upon. When she slowly meets your gaze, her eyes scream that she may have said too much, but you politely urge her to continue, “Yoongi would know about LenLen’s whereabouts?”

“Shit,” Shai sighs, “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,”

“Anyone what?”

It’s a strange way that she changes the subject, bringing up Jimin which you are not happy about, leading you to stand to your feet while frantically ushering her out of your office, “I know you were in love with him,” she whines, “So why do you let Taehyung make fun of you for it when my sister dumped him-”

“Let’s be clear,” your hands squeeze her shoulders, “I was not in love with Jimin,”

The tension that had consumed Namjoon’s shoulders from the mention of your ex-boyfriend’s name eases into relief at your words. The hope he has to one day tell you how he feels finally comes into view, which he dismisses for now. Once you finally force her into a taxi, her mumbling her adoration for you-you jog with as much speed that you can gather, return to your office to unlock Namjoon from the trap you didn’t mean to set. He watches you from the window at how adorable you look running across the parking lot- all with the excitement of returning to his rescue- he can’t help himself but throw subtle teases at you for ‘taking so long’ which you reiterate with comments saying ‘well if I would have known you were going to be that way, I would have strolled with the speed of a snail.’

He walks you home as he normally does, refusing to let you be alone at night. He can’t help but bring up the conversation he overheard about the knowledge of your coworkers.

“LenLen doesn’t know that I know,” you confess, running a cold hand through your hair. You cuddle further into your trench coat, wishing the breeze would bring warmth to your aching frame. “In the end, I don’t care if they’re dating, it’s just if the company were to find out, it may not end well for either of them,”

“Yet,” Namjoon tilts his head while his eyebrows furrow, “Taehyung can harass women on multiple occasions and get away with it?”

A sigh of shame escapes past your pouting lips, shaking your head at the truth you wish wasn’t real, but it very much is, and without realizing, you inch closer to Namjoon, his arm brushing yours, bringing a coziness you’ve needed. “He hasn’t touched anyone inappropriately whatsoever; he just has a mouth he can’t control when he’s angry,”

“Still doesn’t make it right,”

“I know,” you wince knowing that not any excuse will make this situation any better.

“I can call and file a complaint. I’m pretty sure it’s anonymous,”

“No!” You gasp, lowering your voice once you realize the volume you held for that split second, “I can- I can handle this on my own,”

“If that’s the case, then how long has this been going on?”

Pausing, you don’t really want to answer because you know how protective Namjoon can be- you’ve seen it with his sister, and with how he became at the presence of Jimin- you will not be surprised if his protective instincts arise if you were to admit it. Instead, you mildly change the subject, “I just- I tolerate it okay? And this whole ordeal at work has been strange anyway. With Yoongi and LenLen dating and not completing documents that Yoongi needed to sign- to the moth infestation at JiWoo’s Café. It just- it reminds me of the time a few years ago when Jeon’s Bakery went through similar instances… Taehyung almost lost his mind to the point he nearly fired the whole staff,”

“I remember Monnie telling me about it. She said she’s never seen you so stressed out in her life,”

“Yeah,” your laugh is breathy, but in an exasperated sense while you shake your head at the memory you have tried to forget about, “the Jeons’ nearly lost their business, but I refused to let it happen.”

“Did you ever consider foul play?”

The thought hadn’t necessarily occurred to you, it’s been years since everything happened, but the survival of Jeon’s Bakery thankfully lives on. When the conversation dies, leaving minds fogged with deep thoughts is the moment you realize you’re nearing your home- Namjoon respecting the fact of not pressing the subjects any further. Freshening up for the evening, the gentle recall of his face smears your mind while you press a plush towel to dry your face; you reach for your phone almost instantly to wish him a good night. If only you could see how giddy he becomes at receiving your message, cuddling into his covers with nothing but the anticipation of getting to see you the next day.

And, if only, he could tell you that.

The following morning, he arises in preparation for work, leaving his apartment to find his sister doing the same, “What are you doing up so early, you ham?”

With a swift roll of the eyes, he waltzes to her side, joining her with the offer of dropping her off at her job, “What do you think? I’m not dressed to impress for the hell of it,”

Eyeballing him, she punches his arm while he fakes pain, Monnie knowing good and well, her punch didn’t have as much impact as it could, “Watch your tone with me, Peasant.” Stepping into his car, she buckles into the passenger side, making herself comfortable before speaking up once more, “Besides, I’m surprised you’re even capable of awakening at such an ungodly hour. Didn’t you just party the night before?”

“Is that what you think I’ve been up to? Since when has your brother been deemed a slacker?”

“Oh, are you really gonna go there?”

The bickering transitions to the mention of Namjoon hardly ever being at home, which Monnie ponders the question on why he can’t just live with her, being the two can save on rent, “Can’t you just respect my privacy?”

Suspicion crosses his sister’s sneer while she raises an eyebrow, “Privacy. Since when does one avoid his sister like the plague without a reason to claim why they need privacy?” You appear on his mind because when is there a time that you’re not on Namjoon’s mind? A tender smile tugs at the corner of his lips which Monnie observes almost immediately, “There’s a girl isn’t there?”

“Which one?”

Grasping Namjoon’s earlobe, Monnie pulls at it, causing Namjoon to panic, “I’m driving! I am driving!”

“And?” She ultimately lets go, turning to face the windshield while droplets of rain become evident on the glass, “Speaking of a girl, do you know how freaked out I was when you called me pretending to be [Y/N]’s boyfriend? I seriously thought Jimin was going to kick your ass,”

“Hmph,” Namjoon switches his hold on the steering wheel, unintentionally pressing down on the gas pedal, “I’m pretty sure that was the least of my worries,”

“Jimin has a history of self-defense classes, I wouldn’t completely dismiss it,”

‘Yeah, but he doesn’t know what I’d do if it means protecting her,’

“And while we’re on the topic,” Monnie waves a quick index finger, “if you ever bring home a snotty thot, I will suffocate you both with my bare hands,”

Namjoon shakes his head at his relentless sister though he knows she has not an idea of his undying crush on her best friend, “But… What if she’s attractive?”

“Can’t be more attractive than I,” Monnie gloats, tracing a finger to place a strand of hair behind her ear.

“What did you say? I think my ears have gone deaf,”

Monnie captures his earlobe tightly within her grip once again, Namjoon pleading sorry until she lets go, “Mhm, about to mute that mouth of yours while I’m at it,”

Another meeting takes place the second your clicking heels sound within the workplace, you retrieve your notes before taking a seat before Taehyung whose lips close in a firm line. The rest of your coworkers file in, hardly making eye contact, and with this meeting not being on the schedule, you’re anxious to know what caused such a last-minute gathering. When pictures of Jiwoo’s Café appear on the monitor above, your mouth drops while your eyes scan each picture. Water has flooded every inch of the place, ruining some of the storage from what you can tell, and though your eyebrows crease with the thought that maybe pipes have busted- you notice in the corner of the photo that the sink had been left running all night. Worry consumes you, especially with the thought of your brother and Hoseok, whom you know were out clubbing last night without a care in the world.

“It would be one thing if this situation was not preventable,” Taehyung folds his hands before him in an ill manner, “But, clearly, it was. And the food cost on top of the cost to get everything cleaned? We’re talking thousands.”

LenLen doesn’t appear as nervous as she had before which you take a mental note of. With her in charge of the store, shouldn’t she at least show some concern? Taehyung continues with his angered rant, threatening to fire someone as he always likes to do, which you choose to ignore, happy to leave once the meeting is over when LenLen and Shai invite you to join them for lunch.  The conversation about the frustration with Taehyung is vague, but you assure the two that you will get to the bottom of this when you can, though you can’t help but wonder why your brother never contacted you about the scenario. Stepping into the restaurant, you’re taken by surprise when you notice Namjoon, who is sitting across none other than Jung Hoseok, who is leaned forward, pressing Namjoon to set him up with Shai which you are unbeknownst of. When greeting the gentlemen, you decide to not ask Hoseok about the mini flooding being you’re off the clock as well as he. Namjoon and Hoseok stand to their feet, telling all three of you to take a seat. An uneasy feeling settles at the bottom of your stomach, leaving a sour taste in your mouth once you notice Shai timidly flicking glimpses in Namjoon’s direction. And, not making it to your knowledge, Hoseok kicks at Namjoon’s foot under the table with the hopes of him conniving on gaining Shai’s attention.

“So,” Namjoon prepares his noodles with the goal of consuming them, but with Hoseok playing footsies, he decides to break the tension, “Where are you from?”

Shai pauses mid-chew, scouring for a napkin to dab her face, “Are you talking to me?”

She wasn’t the only one who stopped mid-chew at Namjoon’s sudden question- your eyes peering at the overly excited girl with the denial that you’re not sure how you feel about her. LenLen remains quiet- solely concentrating on her bowl of noodles in front of her.

“I’m from the city originally, but now, I reside in Busan of course. Alone,” Cringing at what Shai is trying to hint, you barely notice Hoseok immediately jumping at her answer, though she returns the question to Namjoon, “What about you?”

“Sangdo-dong, but moved to Busan with my family at a young age,” Namjoon’s mouth is full of food at this point, but Hoseok isn’t about to give up,

“I live across town in Busan,” his dimples show with his determined grin, “Alone,”

Choking on some broth you slurped, you bury your mouth into the crook of your arm while Namjoon pats your back in a way to calm you, “You alright, [Y/N]?” Taking a moment to recuperate, you nod toward a concerned Namjoon, clearing your throat in an attempt to suppress the tickle.

It’s later that evening when you approach your brother, anxiety apparent upon his face and frame as he paces back and forth within the living room, “So, do you want to explain what happened at work last night?”

Seokjin huffs, leaning his head back while slamming his eyes shut, “[Y/N], I swear to you, Hoseok and I always do a sweep of the store before leaving. I swear to God the sink was off,”

Crossing your arms, you carefully lean against the wall, not letting Seokjin get off so easily if he’s fibbing, “Were there a lot of dishes or something?”

With wide eyes, Seokjin whips his head to stare at you incredulously, “No, we’re not a restaurant, we’re a café, meaning we serve finger foods and desserts, why the hell would we have a lot of dishes?”

“I don’t know! For all I know, the café was busy yesterday! And we’ve already discussed protocol on storing items properly, so what gives, Jin!?”

“Look, I’m just as mind blown as you are. Also, the flour was stored correctly- Hoseok just didn’t have the balls to admit that he doesn’t know how they got moved,” Seokjin’s confession does pang surprise, your hands folding across your chest while trying to make sense of it, “I actually googled if there was a horror story that happened at JiWoo’s Café because how else can I explain to corporate about the sink randomly turning on in the middle of the night?”

Your fingers press against your lips that are pursed in concentration, “Because it didn’t,” you murmur.

The ring of the doorbell jolts you and Seokjin out of your conversation, him sharing a look with you before prodding to the guest bedroom. Overall, you know corporate is going to take care of the water issue regardless, so ultimately there isn’t much to worry about, but the gnawing feeling that something just doesn’t sit right with you seems to bring your suspicions back to light.

Upon opening the door, your eyes widen in sheer incredulity at a nervous Jimin, dressed in a snug tuxedo, who’s lips are quivering with what to say.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” Teeth clenched from the anger boiling within your system, Jimin’s eyes widen with panic as he raises a hand as if to stop you.

“Please [Y/N], hear me out,”

“Hear what out? Clearly, you do not understand the process of a breakup, do you?”

“Listen, just give me a chance to take you to dinner. Let me explain myself-”

“Good night,” his hand stops the door from shutting and with the strength you know he holds, you no longer feel the need to fight; and from the desperate way his eyes flicker between yours, the seriousness behind them unwillingly convinces you to join him, “I just want to make things right, again, just-just please,” Maybe for once he will indeed explain himself; maybe even apologize for making you feel so low all because of a long distance relationship he refused to try; or, maybe he will admit to cheating on you, although you’re highly confident he had been with how fast he seemed to move on. Lost in thoughts, the sight of a familiar restaurant peeks into view, your mouth falling open while your eyes widen disbelievingly.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you mouth, turning to face Jimin who’s eyes sweep outside the car and back,

“What? Do you not like it here?”

It’s not just a restaurant you know all too well; it’s the restaurant- the one specifically raising the memory of a tattered bra, red lipstick and black stocking used to the advantage of Jimin’s second breakup, “Have you been here before?”  It’s a trick question, one Jimin does not seem to pick up on, but he’s smart enough to not answer you with his most recent event regarding this restaurant.

“Yeah, with coworkers forever ago. The food here is pretty decent, but, I-I, we can go somewhere else if you’d li-”

“It’s whatever,” Fumbling with unbuckling your seatbelt, the anger is burning hot upon your chest- you could scream, you could cry, you could pull your own hair out with how inconsiderate a man can be. Bringing an ex-girlfriend to the same restaurant he recently brought another woman- how is that okay? Evidence continues to pile, especially when the waiter greets with a ‘Welcome back’, one Jimin awkwardly dismisses.

“Forever ago, huh?” Gulping, Jimin steps ahead of you while you follow him to the numerous tables- you precisely pick out the table Jimin had sat with the last woman a week ago, you ask the waiter if that’s okay which he nods. Settling down, you fold your arms across your chest once you hang your purse on the back of your chair- Jimin scrambling to unfold the menu which covers half of his face.

“Everything sounds good tonight. I wonder what we should order,” Jimin purposely keeps his attention on the menu to avoid the daggers you’re glaring into his skull. Tilting your head, you set your jaw, tightening your already folded arms in irritation,

“Cut to the chase, Jimin. Why did you come to my house? Aren’t you leaving for Seoul soon?”

His fingers grip tighter onto the menu, his eyes peek nervously at you before wetting his lips, “Uh, can we, uh, order first?”

“Okay then,” you lean forward, clasping your fingers together, eyes refusing to leave his tense frame, “Let’s have what you’ve ordered recently,”

“I-I haven’t been here recently,” Jimin still scanning the menu- the screech of your chair surprises him to the point the menu falls from his hands, you hovering above him with a taunting sneer, “I’m going to use the restroom,” Any excuse that leads you to dial your best friend’s phone number is the ultimate excuse. The moment you hear Monnie’s voice over the line, it soothes you enough while you force a long sigh,

“Are you kidding me right now? Jimin showed up again?” The muffled sound of a car is heard over the line which you assume to be a taxi, except it’s not a taxi, it’s Namjoon, who’s ears tune in when he overhears Jimin’s name.

“You won’t even believe where we are right now,”

“What I don’t understand is why you’re even wasting your time with him. Have you ordered wine yet?”

“…No?”

“Water will have to do. Pour it over his head and leave!” Namjoon’s smirk is hidden in the evening, Monica’s attention remaining ahead of her where the streetlights glisten beneath the moon, it’s what she says next, that nearly shatters Namjoon’s heart to smithereens, “Wait a minute, what did you just say? You’ll see how it goes? [Y/N], whatever he has to say is bull shit. Do you plan on seeing him again?” Eventually hanging up the phone, Namjoon’s knuckles are white from the grip upon the steering wheel, Monnie rambling about the news she has just received, “Jimin showed up again, I swear he needs to let her go,”

“Does she not see what he’s trying to do? Why does she keep giving in to him?” Jutting his jaw, his eyebrows furrow, his concentration on the road becoming hard with the irritation he withholds.

“Well, it’s not like she can help it. The asshole keeps showing up without her permission,”

“She just needs to learn to stand up for herself. She just lets men walk all over her like it’s nothing,”

“Calm down, Joon, I’m sure she’s not going to give him another chance,”

“Yeah, sure,”

Confused, she turns to face her brother, wondering why he’s getting so worked up over her best friend- though she wants to ask out loud, she decides against it, more worried about their safety with him driving more than anything.

Pained silence still has a hold at the dinner table, the waiter placing you and Jimin’s meals before each of you, yet your stiff digits can’t even fold suitably around the fork. Instead, you observe Jimin, who clears his throat before taking a sip of his wine- him mirroring the same rigidity. Shaking your head slowly, his shoulders slump, because he knows it’s now or never- and he knows the only reason you’re here is because of the promise of him explaining himself. When a few more minutes pass, the quiet is filled with a clinging fork against his plate before dropping it onto the napkin.

“I turned down the promotion. I’m not leaving Busan,”

“What!?” Gasping, that is the last thing you want to hear, in fact, you stand to your feet, shuffling for Jimin’s phone, “What do you mean you turned them down!? Call them back! Tell them you’re just kidding!”

“[Y/N], I can’t do that right now, they’re closed! Don’t you want to work things out? I thought this would be the best! For me, and for you!”

“Work things out?” Still handing his phone towards him, he stares up at you in apparent shock which shows he did not expect your reaction to be like this, “How come me not leaving Busan was such a sin when we were together? And working things out? You want to work things out in the same place you brought another woman?” Realization dawns his entire expression, his eyes glued to the table while his thick lips poise in surprise before his eyes trail to lock with yours- he’s speechless because he knows he’s been caught, and you’re not done with what you’ve kept buried within your heart, “Oh, what, you gonna press charges against me? Cause if so, I can do more to add to them,” your fingers curl around the shaft of the wine bottle, Jimin throwing his hands up in defense,

“[Y/N]!”

Fingers slipping to return to your side, you attempt to calm yourself for a moment, realizing maybe assault is not such a good idea, “Originally,” you sigh, “I wanted us to be civil. But you’re so deceitful. And,” you throw your purse over your shoulder, “I would take my advice and call your job back. Seoul has plenty of women for you to fish for,”

Stomping out of the restaurant, you’re taken aback when a strong hand whips you around- Jimin’s frantic, yet you stare at him- air escaping your agape mouth into the icy weather.

“It’s not entirely my fault!” His voice raises,

“Excuse me!?”

“Who was that guy you were with the other day?”

“Wow,” you look away, wishing with all your heart Namjoon was by your side, but that’s not something you will reveal, especially not in front of Jimin.

“See!? I’m not the only one who cheated! You were seeing someone else too! Can’t we just say we both are at fault and move past it? Why are you making me the bad guy!?”

“You know what?” You murmur- gathering your bearings, swallowing the lump in your throat while you cuddle more into your coat. He just admitted he cheated on you- something he’s lied about countless times before, and at this point, you’ve been given enough proof. You can’t do this anymore, and the truth is you don’t want to- he’s done enough, and you’ve had enough, “Jimin, it isn’t your fault. It’s mine,”

When his expression softens, he inches forward, but stops abruptly the moment you finish your statement,

“I’m the one to blame for dating you in the first place.”

Crying isn’t something you typically do, not in this case, and the march home seemed much longer than usual. Tossing and turning all night, you force yourself to get ready for work, going through the same routine of taking the bus, heels clicking into the work building to see Hoseok, coffee in hand, conversating with Namjoon along with a smiling Shai while they’re waiting for the elevator to be available. Hoseok must have picked up a temporary job for the time being until his parents’ café is back in business; and, little do you know, Namjoon’s heart still weighs heavy at the knowledge of you being with Jimin last night. He can’t stop himself, continuing to ask Shai questions upon where she resides, her mentioning a pizza place to which they should visit sometime.

Jealousy rears its ugly head when you grimace at Shai asking for Namjoon’s number, Hoseok immediately grabbing her phone to put his first before handing it to Namjoon. Your eyes remain focused on your cellular device the entire time to the point you almost miss Namjoon’s invite to come with them. He’s visibly hurt when you retort that you didn’t hear him, sauntering off the elevator with Shai trailing behind you. Taehyung isn’t in a good mood which you’ve expected, and he sends everyone on a wild goose chase about another bakery that apparently hasn’t been open for a few days, except he asks for LenLen and Yoongi to stay behind- something that catches you off guard. Shoving the questions subconsciously, you and Shai squeeze into one of the vans when the ring of her phone causes your ears to perk up.

Why are you so angry when you hear Namjoon’s name slip off Shai’s lips? And why do you feel so territorial when it comes to him? Shai cancels plans with him from what you’re gathering, apologizing to him repeatedly. If only you were aware of Hoseok’s ear is pressed to the back of Namjoon’s phone- fussing at him to tell Shai that the two have time this evening to accompany her- Namjoon shrugging off Hoseok’s desperation, wishing he could just be with you instead.

“What happened to the approval that was supposed to be signed?” Taehyung’s eyes steadily observe the employees before him- shoulders tensing while LenLen carefully chews her spoonful of rice. Yoongi raises his head slowly, turning to her with nervous eyes.

“They didn’t make it to Yoongi’s desk,” LenLen’s curt smile could fool anyone, yet she remains unphased, “I’m sorry, Mr. Kim.”

“Is there a reason why they didn’t make it to his desk?”

Yoongi’s heart thuds, wondering if Taehyung is suspicious upon his relationship with LenLen. Never in his life has he been so enchanted by a woman as much as he has her- and, he remembers, despite the confusion, of her saying not to worry about the papers- setting them aside before she distracted him with devious kisses. How he forgot about the documents is something he will take with him to his grave, yet he could have sworn they remained on his desk even after she left his office.

“I must have misplaced them,” LenLen’s voice lowers, digging another spoonful of her meal to distract herself from the way Taehyung’s eyes sweep her fidgety fingers.  

Exhaustion seeps through every bit of your limbs- offering to take the van back to work while your coworkers bid you a good night. The moment you park, you’ve fought to keep your eyelids open the entirety of the drive, slumping into your seat before slumber takes over. Namjoon has worked yet another late shift, ambling to his car to notice someone sleeping in one of the company vans. Recognizing it to be you, he watches while you’re leaned against the car door peacefully, mouth slightly ajar, and he longs for a day where he can wake up next to you- your pinned hair frilly from the touch of the pillow, while the bed covers bundle underneath your chin. Just the thought of your almond eyes fluttering to find him- corners crinkling from the smile that will fill your lips.

Waking up, you return loose strands of hair behind your ear before embarrassment knocks on your door at the discovery of Namjoon who is now giggling at your widening eyes. “Oh, no,” you moan, pressing your head onto the steering wheel, the honk of the horn causing Namjoon to lean back. Of course, his presence includes an evening out to dinner, the two of you ordering your meals- holiday lights dazzling outside the tiny restaurant.

Running his chopsticks along his food, Namjoon swallows in frustration at the memory of last night, Monnie later informing him that Jimin isn’t planning on leaving Busan. Wanting to ask you about it, he does- his tone sounding a tad bit harsh compared to what he was intending, “So, I hear that asshole isn’t leaving Busan after all,”

“That asshole?”

“Ah,” Namjoon lays his chopsticks onto the napkin next to his plate, leaning back in his chair, “Am I supposed to be respectful considering the way he treats you? Or the fact that he’s your boyfriend again,”

“What?” You murmur, though it’s hardly audible- your folded arms slipping from the table while you investigate Namjoon’s stern gape. “Is that what Monnie said? That I’m dating him again?”

“Well… No,”

“Okay, then what is the problem? I don’t understand why you just jumped to a conclusion like that,”

“Because maybe you have a hard time telling him to back off,”

“And is that any of your business?” Silence takes hold upon the tension while Namjoon lowers his head, biting the corner of his lip in culpability.

“I just heard about it all last night, okay?”

“Then that’s something you should have approached me about first before accusing that asshole of being my boyfriend,”

Namjoon finds joy in hearing you curse Jimin’s name, but he knows now that he did approach the subject inappropriately, “Hey,” his voice softens, your lips falling in a saddened frown before meeting his eyes, “I’m really sorry for upsetting you,”

Huffing quickly, you nod your forgiveness, Namjoon awkwardly taking a swig of his beer. The sound of water droplets on the rooftop of the joint prompts Namjoon to turn his head to face the window- eyes flickering around the atmosphere while you take in how handsome he is. Gentle brown eyes shiny against his tanned skin, his full lips parted with the amazement of nature outside, while the line of his jaw sends a desire that causes you to look away.

“It’s raining,” he murmurs, “You have an umbrella, right?”

Peering up at him, you shake your head leisurely, cringing when you remember that you left it at home, “It’s okay, I’ll just walk home in the rain. I’m used to it,”

“But why would you do that?”

The comment rolls off your tongue before you can stop yourself, “You upset me so much that maybe I need it to cool me off,” you take a shot of your beer, keeping your eyes peeled in a direction away from Namjoon’s jaw falling open.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“No,” you shrug, pouring some more beer into your glass, a smile of annoyance planted on your face, “I should be apologizing for you missing your date with Shai,”

“I invited you to join. You’ll come, correct?”

“And what makes you think I should? I don’t necessarily feel like being a third wheel,”

A subtle smirk pulls at the corner of Namjoon’s lips because seeing how you’re reacting to the idea of him being with Shai ignites a hope that maybe you do have feelings for him. Something he’s been dying to gain since returning home from America, “Why would you feel like a third wheel? Maybe I wanted you to be my date,”

“Oh, don’t start with your sarcasm. I’ve seen Shai, and you’re not the only guy who goes smitten over her. I get it, she’s pretty, but is appearance all that matters to the male population!? Goodness, men are-”

“You’re prettier,” Mid-sip of your alcohol, you nearly choke, especially when the words leave Namjoon’s mouth, making your heart flutter in a way you haven’t felt in such a long time. He timidly avoids further conversation while you pat at your loose strands, him paying for the meal before the two of you step outside. A storm brewed during the dinner to the point the rain is panging heavier than when it started.

“Shit,” you whisper, dreading the idea of walking in the rain though you made mention of being used to it. Namjoon doesn’t even hesitate, telling you to remain under the awning of the restaurant while he sprints to the nearest convenient shop. You gape after him, tilting your head wondering what he has up his sleeve. The ding of the door alerts the employees of yet another presence, Namjoon’s hands scrambling along the umbrella rack- originally picking out two just to return one to the rack, a tight-lipped grin planted upon his face. Once the purchase has been made, he returns to your side- your eyes showing the confusion that he’s holding only one open umbrella, “Why just one?” You laugh, Namjoon gesturing for you to step closer while he holds the umbrella higher, “Aren’t we going to get soaked?”

Both turning in the direction of your home, it’s unexpected the way Namjoon’s expression glows, “I think I have a way to fix that problem,” his arm drapes around your waist; he pulls you much closer to his side showing a perfect way to prevent rain from drenching the pair of you. You’re astonished, but in the most glorious way, you can even imagine, his warmth smothering your chest with giddiness- rain pouring on all sides, yet the smiles upon both of your faces light the world much brighter than even the orange streetlights decorating the paths.

“Want to call a cab?” He peers down at your tiny frame- something he made a joke about earlier where you fended for yourself claiming you’re of average height. His question stirs a mild panic, because for once, the walk in the rain isn’t so bad, especially with the way Namjoon’s arm remains planted around you, your head cuddling into the side of his chest after both of your steps cease.

“No,” you tenderly reply, “I think I want to keep walking… With you,”

There’s a magic in the air that outsiders could feel even a mile away from the couple embraced underneath the crying night. Even when you make it to your doorstep, Namjoon insists on watching until you’re safely inside- him gifting you the black umbrella that you reluctantly accept, thanking him for the evening. His trip home ponders him to settle onto his bed, gazing at the picture he never deleted from when he first watched you fall asleep.

A misunderstanding does fall into place the next evening- one where Shai receives a text from Namjoon in regards of the pizza plans that happened to be missed the day before. You, being informed of it by Shai, pauses, wondering how such a great night with Namjoon could shatter your heart in just 24 hours of time. Unaware, Namjoon has made plans with your brother, bailing out last minute with Shai who is walking alongside Hoseok- expression falling in disappointment at the knowledge that Namjoon will not be attending the pizza date as she hoped.

“He’s going clubbing,” Hoseok nods swiftly, her giggling that she enjoys clubbing as well in an attempt to win Namjoon’s interest. Namjoon politely declines, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trench coat while he watches Hoseok, who came up with the plan this morning, joyfully dancing by Shai’s side while they disappear farther into the glistening city.

Heartbroken and confused, yet again, you make plans with LenLen who sees you’re not okay- the two of you enjoying your meals despite the hushed banter, “I can tell you still think about Jimin,”

“If I told you that I don’t, you wouldn’t believe me,”

“Maybe you should date around? Live a little,”

The conversation turns into LenLen giving dating advice- saying not to take men seriously- how they most likely flirt with every female in order to keep their options open- you biting your tongue about her secret she still has not an idea that you know about it. Doubting everything that has been happening with Namjoon, now the uncertainty of him having feelings for you plague your thoughts. Were you stupid to fall for another man’s tactics? But you’ve known Namjoon most of your life, and he’s never been one to cause toxicity amongst others, and you’ve always admired his maturity in situations. So, why can’t you come to terms that maybe he’s not like any other guy? But, then again… What if he is?

Namjoon bends onto the pool table while he squints his eyes at the ball, he’s planning on hitting. Seokjin waves the video games Namjoon surprised him with from America, thanking him once again while he awaits his turn.

“You know, I was going to invite you over to visit my parents with me, but apparently, Mom invited [Y/N]’s boyfriend over for dinner. And, of course, I’m aware of Hoseok ditching me for some girl my sister works with,”

Namjoon’s heart falls to his feet while he leans against the pool table, Seokjin’s focus remaining on his pool stick as he jabs it- the clacking of the balls sounding through the ringing in Namjoon’s ears. Jimin. Again?

“Boyfriend?” Namjoon tries to keep his emotions at bay to prevent any suspicion from your brother, straightening his back while his hands grip the wooden stick in frustration.

“Oh, I figured Monica may have mentioned him, but he’s some guy my mom won’t shut up about. He comes from a rich background. I could care less about the bastard, but I would never tell [Y/N] that. You know how she is about reminding us she’s our elder,”

“Yeah…” Namjoon takes his turn, head spinning from the news he’s receiving, “He comes over a lot?”

“Unfortunately,” Seokjin murmurs, “Just glad I’ve moved out with Hoseok so I don’t have to deal with any of it,”

“We can still go by there,” Namjoon says it without thinking, Seokjin nodding in agreement while they finish up their game. Why he feels the urge that you may need him he doesn’t know. Maybe if he sees Jimin in person again, he can feel some type of closure in letting you go. If Jimin is who you want, then maybe you should be with him in the long run.

Waltzing through your door after spending the evening with LenLen, your auditory senses are greeted by the familiar clinking of silverware mingled with the voices of your parents. At first, you assume that they’re talking to each other until a third voice makes an entrance, your body rigid from the rage rising within your chest. You’re relentless as you stomp to the living room- Jimin’s blonde hair glistens beneath the chandelier, while he sits at the table before your parents. He nods at you when your eyes lock, him timidly looking away when he sees the pure anger resonating from your stance. Your mother joyfully sprints to you, shoving you towards your room to change into something ‘better’ as she proclaims- spinning around dramatically to tell Jimin to continue with his meal.

When ten minutes pass, you haven’t budged from where you’re frozen before your mirror, the black umbrella Namjoon had given you just the night before leans against your desk. Your mother doesn’t even bother to knock, carefully shutting the door behind her while you immediately tilt your head up, “Why the hell is Jimin here!?” You raise your voice, her shushing you abruptly as her hands' fan in front of your face.

“First of all, I asked you to get ready! And I don’t understand why you’re being so damn selfish! Jimin is perfect for you in every way, and you should be very grateful to have found a man like him,” at some point, during your mother’s pointless banter, it all goes in one ear and out the other, and the relief of her leaving your room sends a frustrated exhale from your lips. You did all that you could when you were dating Jimin; you’ve even dressed up to the point of winning his affection in the bedroom which failed miserably as you recall the night of the breakup. And, you know what? Why not flaunt yourself like you did that night? You’ll show him. You’ll show all of them who is really missing out on who.

The smear of blood red lipstick decorates your lips while dangling pearl earrings match the lacey dress that now hugs your figure. Cleavage prominent, you swiftly straighten your hair, making the last task on your list to be a fresh pair of stockings- the intent of the article of clothing to remind Jimin of the night he was with another woman- the numerous nights he had been with other women.

Head held high, you gradually step into the living room, your father gulping at the sight of your bold choice of an outfit, while your mother gasps in disgust. Jimin doesn’t know where to look- trying to keep his gaze away from the tops of your bosoms squeezing together in the nicest bra you could find in your closet.

“Well?” You spread your arms while you sway to your side, “Is there a reason why you all seem appalled?” You gloat, “I’m sure I’ve put every woman in Busan to shame with this dress, isn’t that right Jiminie?” you’re acting obnoxiously, yet you don’t care, seductively tilting your head while you glare at the back of Jimin’s head, “Why are you sitting away from me, Honey? Look at me,” when Jimin glances at your wide-eyed parents, he cautiously turns to face you, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, “What? Do you not like it?” You bend slightly, showing the size of your ass to remind Jimin of the nights he turned you down, muttering on how your sex life was boring due to the lingerie you refused to buy, “Should I have worn an even tighter dress? How about the stockings? Remind you of anything?”

“[Y/N]!” Your mother snaps, you straighten your frame whilst an exasperated giggle escapes your shiny smile,

“Oh, I forgot my parents were here. Oops,” you slur- your dad gesturing for you to take a seat which you do, Jimin having a hard time processing whatever you are doing. Beer is crowding the table with the many different plates of food your mother prepared, yet you turn to Jimin with a whiny request for wine.

Namjoon rests the side of his head on the window of the passenger’s side while Seokjin keeps his attention on the road, “So, have you been seeing anyone since we’ve been home?” He glimpses over to see his friend- distance in his expression which brings a concern to Seokjin.

“No,” Namjoon says after a moment.

“Okay,” Seokjin says slowly, “What about interest? Anyone, that you’re interested in?” He notices the hint of a smile on Namjoon’s face from the corner of his eyes, “Ah, there’s a smile. So, you do have an interest in someone,”

“You caught me,” Namjoon raises his hands in self-defense, “Ask away,”

“Tell me about her. What’s her name? How old is she? Is she from Busan?”

Namjoon contemplates his answers since he doesn’t want to reveal to Seokjin that it’s you, Seokjin’s sister, that Namjoon is hopelessly in love with, “She’s 28,”

“Dude,” Seokjin is shocked from the obvious tone of his voice, “That’s five years older than you, have you gone mad? That’s our sisters’ age. That’s like you dating my sister,” Namjoon glances at Seokjin while he proclaims on how creepy it is to date an older woman- Namjoon remaining silent for the rest of the drive, pain evident on his face now knowing your brother would disapprove if Namjoon’s feelings for you were to be made known.  

Chugging half of your second beer, since Jimin failed at bringing wine, you wait for the perfect opportunity of Jimin’s lips molding to take a sip of his beer when you face your mother, “So, mom did dad ever cheat on you at any point in your relationship?”

Coughing, Jimin buries his mouth into his hand that curled into a fist, sliding his beer further from him while your mom’s eyebrows furrow at your random question, “No. No, your father’s been faithful. Wh-”

“What would you do if he wasn’t?”

Your father stares at you in distraught, yet he seems to catch where your conversation is headed.

“I’d smack him upside his head-”

Hesitation is not part of your vocabulary in this section of time, for your palm, with all the strength you can muster, slaps the back of Jimin’s head while he cringes beneath your touch. The burn of the hit lingers within your palm, while your parents freeze in realization- your dad raising his voice to ask what you’re trying to get at.

“Wait a minute,” your mother counters, while Jimin rubs the back of his head, “Did you… Were you seeing another woman while courting my daughter?”

Jimin drops his gaze to the table, running the tip of his tongue over his lips in panic.

“I’m- I’m- I don’t know what to say,” your mother says in obvious disappointment. Your father rises slowly while he glowers at Jimin who raises his arm in a plea to your father, but it’s too late, he attacks Jimin, slamming him onto the table while bowls of food hit the floor- your mother getting in between the men while Jimin begs for your father to let him go.

“When is everyone going to start acting like adults in here!?” She bellows whilst scampering for cloths to clean the food stains off your father’s sweater.

“Look,” Jimin’s hands fly before him, “I messed up, okay? But I am not the only one to blame here! [Y/N] cheated, too! She’s seeing someone now!”

“Jimin!”

“Oh, are you going to deny it!? Do you think that it’s simple for me to come here? Your parents practically begged me to-”

“Then why the fuck did you not say no!?” Gasps escape from both of your parents at the choice of words you have chosen. But you are so livid, you could care less. “For heaven fucking sakes, Jimin, where is the respect? If only I had a few more drinks in me, I’d smack the shit out of you even more!”

“You know what?” Jimin clenches his jaw, settling to his knees before you, “Hit me then. Put me out of my misery. Do what you need to feel better, I just want to fix things here.”

“Like you’ve had such luck with patching things up before,” you mutter, “It’s not happening, Jimin,”

“Why?” Jimin taunts, standing back to his feet, “How about you tell your parents why you no longer want to be with me, huh? Who’s the man who told me to fuck off at your work? You dodge the question because you’re just as guilty as I am!”

Crossing your arms, you inch closer, a sneer present on your red lips, “Accusing me makes you feel so much better, doesn’t it,”

“Then why can’t you admit who he is? I’m going out of my mind about it, just fucking tell us already-”

“I like him, okay! But that was after my relationship with you!” Your voice is loud- so loud it carries throughout the house, stunning your parents as well as Jimin as they gape at you, “I really like him, you have an issue with that Jimin? Huh?”

“Oh no,” your mother groans as she collapses on the couch, “No, no, no, no-”

Seokjin bursting through the door makes matters worse to your mother as she clambers to tidy the table with whatever she can salvage while everyone’s attention turns to see not one, but two men, joining everyone in the living room. When Namjoon trails behind a wide-eyed Seokjin- Jimin’s expression shows astonishment as he points a shaky index finger toward Namjoon, whose eyes are too busy looking at the ensemble he has never seen on you before. A look that’s distracting him from the tension smothering the vicinity.

“That’s- that’s him! That’s the guy!” Jimin’s desperate- desperate to clear his name of any negativity, though he truly is the only one at fault for infidelity. Grasping your arm tightly, he drags you an inch forward while you struggle to get out of his grip, “You need to explain to everyone!”

Your parents are jumbled with who Jimin is exclaiming about at first, but when they realize his crazed eyes have yet to leave Namjoon’s, they know exactly who he’s referring to- but, Namjoon is more focused on the tightening grip Jimin has on your arm, Namjoon grits his teeth while he swallows slowly, “Let go of her.” Stepping forward, nobody has time to blink when Namjoon clutches the front of Jimin’s suit, dragging him roughly toward the outside of the house while Seokjin hysterically chases after them. Panicked voices of your parents scream towards what seems to be the start of a feud.

You can’t move. You just remain speechless while your hero intervenes once again. 

#bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #kafenetwork #btswriterscollective #heartsforbts #ot7 #bts #bts fanfic #namjoon #kim namjoon #bts namjoon #bts kim namjoon #namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts kim namjoon fanfic #18k + #namjoon fluff #jimin angst #bts angst #bts fluff #bts soft #namjoon romance #bts romance

[emm-jayy]

unexpected (i)- spencer reid

Summary: Your whole family is killed, and the BAU is on the case

warnings: smut, and mention of throwing up

word count: 4k

series masterlist

gif not mine

Spencer walks into the 6th floor of the FBI building, sporting a cup of coffee he’d gotten by a local shop.

“Hey Reid, what did you do this weekend?” Emily asks, looking up from her desk.

“I went down to the library to read, and then some kids asked me how I finished all the hooks so fast. They wanted me to compete with them on speed reading.” Spencer says, nodding.

“Did any of them beat you?” Emily ask, raising an eyebrow.

“No, of course not.” Spencer replies.

Emily laughs, “Well, we’ve got a case, let’s go.” She says, picking up a file, and walking to the briefing room.

Spencer follows, walking into the briefing room. Most everyone is already there, and Spencer sits down at the round table.

Garcia begins, putting pictures on the screen. “This is the Y/L/N family from Washington . They were killed in their homes last night, via gunshots to the parents, and suffocation with a plastic bag to the son.” Garcia says, “The daughter, Y/n, was living at college not too far away, so she was spared from the crime.” Garcia says.

“That family is low-risk. If the unsub isn’t attached to the family, he could easily pick a new family quickly. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says, closing the file.

On the jet, the team speculates about the unsub. “Our unsub probably suffocated the boy with little to no noise, and then shot the parents in their bed. Quickly in succession.” Morgan says, looking at the photos.

“That means our unsub probably has some common sense, I say this was premeditated to an extent.” Emily comments.

“Reid and Morgan, I want you at the crime scene. Emily and JJ, work victimology at the precinct. Rossi and I will talk to the daughter.” Hotch says, knowing that the team is landing soon.

Everyone nods, and begins to pack up.

Spencer and Morgan pull on their gloves as they enter the crime scene. They walk into the room where the mother and father were shot.

“The blood splatter is almost exactly the same on both sides. That means that the unsub had no hesitation about killing them both.” Morgan says.

“No remorse either.” Spencer says, “What was the gun the unsub used?” Spencer asks an officer next to him.

“9 millimeter.” The officer replies, “The guy took the gun with him though.”

Spencer nods, and then hears yelling from downstairs, and commotion. He looks toward Morgan, and they rush downstairs.

“You need to let me see them!” You scream, trying to get past the officers near the door.

Morgan puts his hands up, “Wow, wow ma’am. What’s going on?” He asks you.

“You guys have to let me see my family!” You exclaim, wiping tears from your eyes.

“Okay. I’m Agent Morgan, and this is Doctor Reid from the FBI. You’re Y/n right?”

You nod, looking at him hesitantly.

“Now, aren’t you supposed to be down at the station.” Morgan asks.

“FBI? What? Yes, I'm supposed to be down at the station but I needed to see them.” You say, breathless.

“They’re not here. They’ve been moved to the morgue for further analysis.” Morgan says.

“Oh.” You say quietly. “Well he’s a doctor, can’t he take me to them?” You ask, looking at Spencer.

“I’m not that type of Doctor actually. I hold three PhD’s in-” Spencer begins, but Morgan interrupts him. “Not now kid. Can I talk to you for a minute?” Morgan asks Spencer, pulling him aside.

“We don’t have anyone at the morgue right now, do you want to take her?” Morgan asks.

“What?” Spencer asks in a hushed voice. “Why me?”

“You’re closer to her in age, she might give more information then she thinks if you just talk to her.” Morgan says.

Spencer thinks about it, then looks back up, “Okay.” and then walks back up to you.

“I’ll take you to the morgue.” Spencer says. You nod, and follow him out the door.

You sit in the passenger seat, and you look over at Spencer. “Do you have any idea who did this?” You ask.

“We just got on the scene. I have 6 other people on my team, and they are working other parts of the case currently.” Spencer says, looking at the road.

“Well, what do you think?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“It really is too early to tell. But from what i’ve seen I can tell it was premeditated, and that there was no hesitation in killing your parents.” Spencer says, almost regretting the words that were coming out of his mouth. They were almost facts,sure, but he still felt bad.

“Oh. You can tell all of that by just looking at pictures?” You ask.

“Yeah, we’ve studied extensive behaviors. A lot of them are similar. Also, a lot of what i just told you could be figured out by a lot of people, it’s kind of just common sense.” Spencer says, and you nod.

When Spencer pulls into the parking lot, your breaths seem to get heavier.

“Hey.” Spencer says. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No.” You shake your head, “I need to.” You say, taking a breath.

“Alright.” Spencer says, pushing the door open for you.

The M.E pulls the bodies out of the cold chamber, and pulls back the sheets.

You gasp, putting a hand over your mouth. Spencer attempts to be sympathetic, and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Maybe I should drive you back to the station.” Spencer says quietly. You nod, tears slowly falling down your face.

“Come on.” He says, leading you out the door.

The car ride back is mostly filled with silence, until Spencer breaks it.

“Is there anyone you can think of who would do this to your family?” He asks.

“No. Everyone adored them. If anything I was the problem child.” You mutter.

“Hey, don’t say that.” Spencer says, furrowing his eyebrows.

You laugh at the pity he’s giving you, “It’s true.”

Spencer doesn’t answer, and eventually, he pulls into the station.

“Some other people on my team have to question you.” Spencer says, putting the car into park.

“Okay.” You say, unbuckling your seatbelt.

You and Spencer walk into the station, and head to the bullpen.

“Reid! Where the hell have you been with her?” Rossi asks whenever you two walk into the bullpen.

“She showed up at the crime scene, demanding to see her family. I took her to the morgue so she would maybe answer some questions. Nothing too helpful.” Spencer says, quietly so only Rossi can hear.

He nods, and then takes you aside for some light questioning.

He walks over to where the rest of the team is, around a bulletin board.

“Do you guys have any leads?” Spencer asks, standing near the board.

“We think the unsub is a psychopath. I’ve never seen anyone kill with less hesitation or remorse.” Emily says, and Spencer nods.

“I forgot to ask. Were there signs of forced entry?” Spencer asks, and the team shakes their heads.

Spencer walks over to the room they had you in, and walks to Hotch, who’s observing.

“Have you asked her if the family would lock their doors at night?” Spencer asks Hotch.

“Yes. She said they usually didn’t since they lived in a good neighborhood.” Hotch replies.

Spencer shakes his head, sighing, and then walks back over to the board.

Around 30 minutes pass, and then you’re let out of the room.

It was a little past nine at this point, and everyone had been working tirelessly.

“Doctor Reid?” Spencer heard a voice call, and he turned around.

“Yeah?” He said, facing you.

“Do you think you could drive me back to my hotel room. I don’t have a car.” You say, innocent eyes boring into his own.

Spencer turns toward the team, and Morgan speaks up, “Go ahead kid. We need to sleep on this anyway.”

Spencer nods, grabbing his bag and coat, following you out the door.

“Why not have an officer take you to your room?” He asks, after driving for a bit, genuinely curious.

Your answer was hesitant, “I don’t know, I think I feel more comfortable with you.”

“Hm.” Spencer answers, a small smile forming on his face.

Spencer pulls into the parking lot of the pretty nice hotel. He unbuckled his seatbelt, and was going to open the door.

“What are you doing?” You ask, looking at him.

“I’m making sure you get up to your room safe. What type of FBI agent would I be if i didn’t do that?” He asks, a smile on his face. You laugh lightly.

Spencer follows you from the lobby, in the elevator, and to the door of your room.

You unlock it, and he steps inside.

Spencer takes in your bag, thrown on the bed. It was obvious you went straight from here to your home.

“Okay well it seems like you got here safe. I should be go-” Spencer is interrupted by your lips on his.

The kiss was over as soon as it began, giving Spencer almost no time to process what just happened.

“How old are you again?” is all Spencer had to say. He knew how old you are, he had an eidetic memory. He just wanted you to hear it.

“22.” You said, looking at your feet.

Spencer knew it was wrong, your family had just died. It would get him in so much trouble. But the adrenaline rush of the trouble he might get in, and the fact that your tits looked so good in that low cut shirt you were wearing. Fuck.

“I’m sorry Doctor Reid.” You say quietly.

He pushes your chin up with his finger, and leans towards your ear. “It’s Spencer.” He says, and then crashes his lips to yours.

Spencer walks forward, moving you towards the bed. He pushes your bag off, and lays you down on the edge of the bed.

Spencer shoves your shirt up, marveling at your perfect breasts. He licks one over the material, and a low moan comes from you.

“Is this okay princess?” Spencer asks you, and you nod very urgently.

Spencer takes your shirt all the way off, his following. He unclips your bra, taking one of your nipples in his mouth.

You moan, pulling on his hair. Spencer trails back up, kissing from the swell of your breast to your earlobe.

You try to unbutton your jeans, but Spencer’s hand stops you, “Patience, darling.” He says, and finishes unbuttoning them for you.

Spencer feels the wet spot in your underwear. “Are you this wet for me?” He asks, whispering in your ear.

You moan out a yes, and then he unbuckles his pants, sliding them off.

He climbs on top of you, and grinds against your clothed pussy. You both groan at the friction.

“No foreplay.” You say, “I can’t wait.”

Spencer nods, and then groans, “Fuck, I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the pill, and I'm clean.” You reply.

“Thank god, I’m clean too.” Spencer sighs in relief, “Now. Turn over sweetness.” He says to you, and you comply.

Spencer slides off your underwear, and takes off his boxers. He slides his cock up and down your slit, until you arch your back, whining for him to slide it in.

Finally, Spencer does. Eliciting a high moan from you, and a low groan from him.

He lets you adjust to his size for a moment, and then begins to thrust.

You grab onto the sheets, and Spencer’s hands are glued to your ass, pushing you back onto his cock.

One hand of Spencer’s drifts to your hair, pulling you up by it slightly. The slight pain causes your walls to clench, making Spencer groan.

“Fuck. Good girl” Spencer mutters between thrusts, “Gonna make me come.”

Spencer reaches a hand around your hips, and begins to rub your clit.

“Fuck. I’m close.” You say breathlessly.

“Me too pretty girl. Let go for me.” Spencer says, and you do exactly that. You yell Spencer’s name as you come

In the midst of your orgasm, you feel Spencer spill inside of you.

You feel Spencer fall beside you, mind still hazy from your orgasm.

You lay on his chest, just reveling in the experience for a few minutes.

After those few minutes of bliss though, Spencer knows what he has to do. He sighs.

“I hate to do this.” He says, truly meaning it, “But I have to leave. I could get in so much trouble for this.” He says.

Spencer expects a look of hurt on your face, and it shows up, “It was worth it sweetness,” He says, running his hand down your face, “I promise. Here, put your number in my phone. I’ll text you updates on the case.” He says, handing you his phone.

You do what he asks, bringing the sheet up to cover your body.

“As soon as the case is over, we can be together all we want. But right now it would be a conflict of interest, and I really want to bring your family’s killer to justice.” Spencer explains to you.

You nod, and Spencer kisses you once again, passionately.

Spencer slowly gets dressed, not really wanting to leave. When he’s ready, he gives you another kiss, smiling down at you.

“I’ll see you later Y/n.” Spencer says.

It’s close to 11 whenever Spencer gets to the hotel the team is staying at.

Morgan is still in the lobby, sitting with Emily. “What took you so long, man?” Morgan asks Spencer.

“Uh, Y/n was scared to stay in her room alone. I had to stay there for a bit to reassure her. I think that’s why she wanted me to take her, more safe than a beat cop I guess.” Spencer says, the lies coming out of his mouth so easily.

“Alright kid, go get some sleep. You look tired.” Morgan says, gesturing to his eye bags.

Spencer nods, heading up to his room. He was tired, but from something completely different than Morgan thought.

Spencer takes a quick shower, something he wished he could’ve done at your hotel.

He throws on a caltech shirt and shorts, and falls onto the hotel bed.

~

Spencer awakes to knocking on his door. He checks his phone, 5:34 AM. He groans, and stumbles towards the door.

He opens it, rubbing his eyes, and sees Morgan.

“There’s been another family murder, same M.O. The son was suffocated and the parents killed in their beds.” Morgan says quickly.

Spencer nods, “I’ll be down as soon as I can.” He says, becoming pretty awake almost instantly.

He closes the door, and turns on the lamp. Spencer grabs his phone, and texts you. He assumes you’re asleep, but you’ll see it when you wake up.

“There’s been another family murder.” Spencer types to you, and then begins to get dressed.

He rides in the SUV with Morgan, Rossi, and JJ. “This was the Miller family, right?” Spencer asks, looking on his tablet.

“Yeah, and they only had a son, no daughter off at college. I think we can assume the unsub hasn’t been watching these family’s all that long.” Morgan says, Spencer nods.

The team shows up at the crime scene, pulling on their gloves. Spencer heads up to the parent’s room with Emily.

“God. No hesitation again. Or struggle.” Emily says, shaking her head.

“Do we think the unsub has a socioeconomic motive?” Spencer asks, “Both the family’s have been pretty well off, maybe he resents that.”

Emily nods, taking in that information.

The team finishes getting information at the crime scene, and then they head back to the station to attempt to deliver the profile after discussion.

“My thing is, why does the unsub use such a quiet method with the first victim, and then shoots the others?” JJ asks.

“It’s possible the unsub knows he couldn’t fight off that many people at once.” Spencer says, “He takes out one victim rooms away, and then kills them in succession because he can’t fend any of them off if they were awake.”

“So do you think our unsub is a short skinny guy?” Emily asks, and Spencer nods.

As everyone else is discussing, Spencer pulls out his phone.

“We are going to deliver the profile soon if you want to come down here.” Spencer texted. It was around 9, surely you’d be awake.

A response from you follows quickly after, “On my way.”

Spencer puts his phone back in his bag, and listens to everyone else put in their ideas. About 20 minutes later, Hotch says, “I think we’re ready to give the profile.”

“Our unsub is a male in his late 20s to early 30s” Morgan starts.

“We believe him to be short and scrawny, someone you wouldn’t think to commit a crime.” JJ says.

“We have reason to believe that he either grew up poor, and that’s why he resents the well off. Or he grew up middle class, and he resents his own family.” Hotch explains.

“Either way. We are looking at someone very dangerous. The unsub hasn't shown any remorse or hesitation in these murders. We believe him to be a functioning psychopath.” Emily says.

“Functioning psychopaths are someone you’d never expect.” Spencer begins, “They seem genuine, but you might be able to pick up on slightly manipulative behaviors.”

“That’s all we have for right now. We will alert you if we have anything more.” Rossi says, and the officers and detectives around them disband.

Spencer is collecting his things, when he feels someone behind him. There you are, a look of anger on your face.

“What the hell was that? I know like a hundred guys with that description you just gave.” You say, crossing your arms.

“That’s just something we use to get started. We will work more to narrow it down.” Spencer explains.

“Reid.” Hotch says, “What is she doing here?” He asks.

“I just wanted to be here. It’s not like I have anything else to do.” You grumble.

Spencer gives Hotch a look, like he really feels bad for you. Hotch nods, and walks away.

“Hey. Let’s go talk in private.” Spencer says. He takes you into an abandoned office, and closes the door.

As soon as the door is closed, your lips are on his. When Spencer smiles against your lips, you pull away. Spencer laughs slightly, “Not here princess.” He says.

You pout, giving him puppy dog eyes. Spencer can’t resist, you just look so damn perfect. He once again smashes his lips against yours, his hands drifting to your breasts.

He squeezes them, and you let out a breathy moan, “Be quiet for me princess.” He says softly, unbuttoning your pants.

“This is okay right?” Spencer asks against your lips, and you breathe a yes.

Spencer’s hands drifts down to your clit, rubbing soft circles on it. He spins you around, to where your back is pressed against the door.

Spencer’s middle finger slides down to your entrance, and he eases his finger into you. You let out a moan when he curves his fingers, and Spencer’s hand is immediately on your mouth.

He slides another finger into your heat, and thrusts them as best as he could without your pants being off.

He moves his hand from your mouth, and replaces it with his lips. You kiss for a little bit, until the pleasure becomes too much for you. You move your head down, and bite Spencer’s shoulder to keep you from moaning.

“Fuck.” Spencer says, rubbing your clit with his thumb.

He feels you clench around him, and he knows you’re close. “Cmon baby, come on my fingers.” He says softly.

You do just that, and let out a soft moan, muffled by Spencer’s shirt.

After you come down from you high, Spencer pulls his hand out of your pants. You giggle, embarrassed at what you just did.

“Do I look like I just came?” You say, fixing your hair.

Spencer laughs, running a hand down your face. “No sweetness.” He says, “Whenever we walk out, I’m going to pretend like we are having a conversation.” He tells you, and you nod.

He opens the door, and begins to speak. “I’m sorry Y/n, but you can’t be around here anymore, I’ll call you an uber back to your hotel.” Spencer pulls out his phone.

He glances up at you, and he sees the fake annoyed face you put on. He smiles slightly, setting up the uber.

“It should be here soon, go wait outside.” Spencer tells you, and you comply.

“Damn Reid. What was she asking you for in there?” Morgan asks, and Spencer shrugs him off.

There was nothing more to do that day except wait. They were waiting for lab reports and things, so everyone was working on their own thing.

~

Two hours later, the captain gets a call in his office. Spencer sees the captains face change, and Spencer knows something is wrong.

The captain comes out of his office, luckily the whole team is there.

“We have another family murder, and witnesses say that there was someone in a dark blue hoodie getting away by foot.” He says.

“I need everyone in their gear in 2 minutes.” Hotch says, “I want Reid, Morgan, Prentiss and Rossi driving around the area of the crime. The unsub couldn’t have gotten far.”

Everyone nods, and gets ready as soon as possible.

3 minutes later, everyone is in the SUV with vests on.

Morgan is driving, and turns the sirens on. The area around the house of the crime is basically a circle, so they begin to drive around it.

“Since we know this unsub is intelligent, they would probably head towards the city, a more populated area means it's harder to get caught.” Spencer says from the backseat. Morgan nods, heading in that direction.

After driving in that general area for a bit, Morgan slams his hand on the wheel, turning off his lights.

“This is pointless.” He sighs.

And just then, Spencer sees a figure slips out from the bushes beside a house.They were wearing a blue hoodie and jeans.

They began to move down the sidewalk, at a slightly faster pace than a walk.

Spencer waves his hand, “Morgan!” He says, pointing at the house about 200 feet down.

The whole team automatically opens their doors, rushing over to the unsub.

They all draw their guns, and Morgan yells, “Put your hands up or I will shoot.”

The person slowly puts their hands up, shaking their head.

“Now put your hands on your head, and turn around.” Morgan yells, and the figure begins to turn around.

“Took you long enough.” The person says as they turn around. The voice. Spencer can almost match it. Then, the figure turns around completely.

You.

You have a smirk on your face, looking at Spencer. “What?” You ask, “You weren’t expecting me, Doctor Reid?”

It all made sense to him now. He had given you his number, and he was texting you updates. You had inserted yourself into the investigation to the extreme. A functioning psychopath, and Spencer didn’t notice.

Spencer’s mouth is open, and he can’t even reply to you.

“Yeah Hotch, we got her.” He hears Emily say into her comm.

Spencer has to walk over to the side of the pavement, and he retches. Rossi comes up behind him, “Kid? What’s the matter?” Spencer can’t even respond.

He stands back up, trying to look at you, but he can’t.

“Call me!” You say, to Spencer as you are forced into the car. “Oh wait. I’m the one who gets the one phone call.” You laugh.

~

@1800-fight-me @rachel-rebellio @itsarayofsunshine @cupcake525 @soupmakesmynoserun @elizabethkaylynn @drspencr @mattgraygubler @nanocoool @reid-187 @darling-doll9 @disney-dreams-world @myfavbau @softpeteparker @chaoticsteverogers @throughparisallthroughrome @whollytaciturn @imsuperawkward @pinkprincenamjoon @pprettyboyreid @reidswords

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #mgg #cm #gublergram #gublernation #gube #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #sebastian stan #68 kill #suburban gothic #emily prentiss

[johnkrrasinski]

Midnight, I’m Not Leaving

full masterlist

Pairings: Biker!Bucky Barnes x female!reader (AU)

Word count: 1,995

Warning: fluff!!!! just a lot of feelings tbh.

Summary: you had your whole life planned out; work hard, move to new york and pursue your dreams... but what happens when a coquettish biker gang leader crossed your path and relentlessly asked you for a date?

a/n: this one’s written for @captain-rogers-beard​‘s “Flex Your Writing Muscles” challenge. i was inspired by the prompt “a late night bike ride under the stars” and i’ve been actually thinking of writing about biker!bucky for awhile!! so yeah, it was a perfect coincidence. please leave a like & comment! enjoy!

The crisp breeze felt piercing on your skin, your hair was blowing through all over your face barricading your sight, the soft hum of the engine that you had grown fond of reverberated in your ears, like midnight jazz cruising through the streets of Sunset Boulevard.

Bucky’s sturdy material of leather felt nice against your palm as you inhaled his musky scent, the smell soothed your nerves. But again, Bucky Barnes always soothed your nerves.

You had been dating the town’s most infamous bad boy slash biker gang leader, Bucky Barnes for over two months now. You were a persevering small-town girl who valued your independence and was determined to get out of this mundane place.

You wanted to migrate to the big city, preferably the Empire State, where you can be whoever you want to be, and there’s a seat for you and your big ambitions on the dining table. Not like this small-minded, incommodious small town where everyone seems to have a thing of sticking their noses in places they don’t belong and the most “noble” job you can have is being a waitress.

You didn’t have any desire in fulfilling this small town’s dreams for you by being a waitress but you had to fill in your bank account if you really wanted to leave and run to the big city. So you took a part-time job at a local bakery store, owned by Mrs. Potts, called “Potts’ Boulangerie,” where you get paid quite generously for someone who only works as a part-time waitress.

Life in Islesbury was anything but exciting and extraordinary during most days.

But all that changed since, a rainy afternoon, when the fearsome, James Buchanan Barnes, the leader of the notorious biker gang, “The Howling Commandos.” The bell above the door dinged as Bucky with his two most trusted men, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson tried to fit their massive figures into the moderate-sized door that would fit the average people.

Bucky set his foot first as Sam then Steve trailed along. They were soaked with the droplets of rain that were clouding over the tranquility of Iselsbury but they didn’t seem to mind one bit. There was only you at that moment since Wanda wasn’t feeling too well so she worked only for half-day. The shop was a little slow too since it was raining and most people preferred to stay inside, and Wednesdays aren’t exactly the most casual day to stop by at the bakery store.

To say you weren’t a tad intimidated by the sight of these menacing men would be a deceit. You had heard the rumours, the small crimes that they did, the various members that had gone in and out prison, and the bars that they owned and ruled over. But you put on your professional facade anyway, and you did your job.

They immediately sat at the last table in the corner, where Bucky leaned against the window, whilst Sam and Steve sat next to each other at the opposite of his direction. You heard one of them say, “damn, it’s really coming down.”

You carefully walked over to them with your notepad and pencil, and you raise your voice meekly, “can I get you guys anything?” Bucky instantly turned his head and took a good look at you, shamelessly eyed you up and down. “Well, hello there, gorgeous.” Bucky winked.

You were taken aback by his blunt move. The fuck did he just call you? You weren’t an escort who was prying on your next potential client and on your way to seduce him. “Excuse me?” All the civility in you dissolved, your offence was on palpable.

“Whoa, what’s the matter, doll face?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m here to take your order, not to escort you.”

“Calm down, doll. I ain’t saying that at all. I’m just stating the obvious.”

“Well, you better keep your mouth to yourself because I don’t like those nicknames and if you’re not going to make an order, then I suggest you leave.”

“Well, this is a public place, ain’t it? Anyone can be here whenever they want as long as the sign on the door says open.”

He was right. You shouldn’t be rude to a customer, but again, you weren’t going to let him or anyone walk over you. But you tried to regain your composure and tried to act decently again, “fine, what would you like to order, sir?”

“Sir… I like that. I’ll take one cup of espresso, please, darling.” He winked at you and grinned a Cheshire cat smile. “Be cool, he’s a customer. Be cool, he’s a customer. Be cool, he’s a customer.” You reminded yourself. “Just serve his orders and you won’t have to deal with him ever again… At least for today.”

“Alright. What about you?” You directed your attention to Steve and Sam.

“Americano, please.” You noted down Sam’s order. “And you?” You moved to Steve. “Just black ma’am. Thank you.” You noted that down also.

“I’ll be right back with your orders.” You immediately walked away and went back to the kitchen where you were going to make their coffees. Only after a few steps away from them, you heard the faint, yet bold voice of Bucky. “Feisty... Think I like this one.”

-

Since that fortunate day, Bucky never stopped bothering you, even though you persisted on rejecting him, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He kept on visiting you at the bakery store, annoying you whilst you were busy taking customers’ orders or helping Wanda out in the kitchen. He even went as far as insolently knocking on your door at night whilst you were having a movie night with your parents in the living room.

“What the hell? What are you doing here?!” You spoke in a hushed tone, but you glared at him. How the fuck did Bucky find your resident?

“Wanted to see you, doll. Thought you’d give me a different answer if I had visited you at your place rather than the shop.” He leaned into the frame of the door. Meanwhile, your mother in the background was not making the situation any easier, “who is that, honey?”

“Nobody…”

“What? Is it a false address?”

“Yeah…”

Amidst the turmoil of trying to get rid of Bucky and convincing your mother, you didn’t notice that Bucky was audaciously eyeing you up and down for you were clad in nothing but a white tank top and pyjama shorts with a thin cardigan cloaking you as an outer.

“Never seen you in something so scanty before, you look better like this.” There is that presumptuous smirk again.

You realized he wasn’t going to leave anytime soon for the persistent douche he was, so you shut the door behind you and stepped outside to your porch. “What the hell? You can not just come into my house uninvited! And most importantly, how did you even know where I live?!”

“I have eyes in the sky and ears all over town.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes.

“If you want me to leave, you gotta say yes to a date. Just one date, doll.”

“No.” You resolutely gritted.

“Fine, then I’ll just stand here all night, maybe even flaunt my singing skill and wake the entire neighbourhood, until you say yes.” He started singing a song that you didn’t know, like a drunken teenage boy at a bar. He didn’t even hesitate in turning up his volume and it immediately made you panic.

“Shh! Okay, fine. I’ll go on a date with you. Just please, stop causing a scene. My parents will call the cops on you if they saw you here.”

“Of course, still the uptight rich people, I see.”

“You gotta leave. Now.” You started pushing him, even though he barely moved an inch for he was stronger and bigger than you.

“7 PM, tomorrow. I’ll pick you up on my bike.”

“Okay, go!” You shoved him mildly to get him off your veranda.

He yielded then began moving to where he parked. He hopped on his bike and revived the engine as took one last glance at you, “can’t wait to see you all dressed up for me, doll.” He winked and geared on the asphalt road.

And the rest was history.

And now, here you were, two months later, sitting on the back of his bike, with your chest pressed against his broad back, as he cruised through the open road under the glow of the moon.

You hugged Bucky tighter as he sped up. The feel of his warmth against you relinquished all the burden and the mundanity of the small-town life were omitted.

“Where are we going?” You gritted.

“You’ll see. If I tell you now, it ain’t going to be a surprise.” His tone detonated, trying to overpower the din of the wind.

Typical Bucky. Even after you were his for two months, he was still coming up with inventive ways to impress you. It’s the little things and modest ways he did that pulled you into him like a magnet. The sugarcoated words he effortlessly spoke, the kisses his ingenious lips left on you and the iniquitous way he touched you when you were making passionate love… It captivated you like a firework show.

Bucky took you that night to a secluded hill, in the outskirts of town where there were barely any people passing by. You had snuck out earlier, cautiously not to jolt your parents up as Bucky noiselessly waited for you outside. You felt like recalcitrant teenagers recklessly in love. And maybe you were at that moment.

“Let’s go on a ride tonight, doll. I’ll be here by midnight. Be ready, princess.” He urged you on the phone earlier.

The midnight was besieged by stillness and nothing but the sonances of crickets. Bucky lifted the seat of his bike and retrieved the plaid picnic blanket from inside.

He placed it on the lawn and he laid down with you in his arms. You placed your head on his chest as you curled up to him and fitted your entire height in the blanket.

“Look at those stars…” Bucky pointed at the sprinkled constellation adorning the royal blue sky. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they are.” You paused. For a moment there was only the sound of you and Bucky’s slow breathing and steady heartbeat humming in your ear. Then you filled in the silence with the sentimentality of your childhood your mind recalled. It’s really difficult not to open up when you are this close to him.

“When I was a little girl, I used to pretend that those stars would follow me wherever I go like they were my little guardian angels. And whenever I’m sad or afraid, I’d look outside my window and feel safe.”

“You still do that?” He breathed into your hair as he played with some of the strands. He tenderly caressed the back of your head with his indurated fingers that you had memorized every inch of.

“Of course not.” You slightly chuckled in disbelief at his question.

“Good, cause as long as you got me, you don’t ever have to feel sad or afraid again, doll.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s an oath. And I’ve got a lifetime to prove my words to you.”

You thanked your lucky stars that night, as they watched over you and Bucky like the angels taking over the form of flickering stellar in the sky. You always thought you knew where your future was heading and had your plans laid out immaculately in front of you until Bucky came along like a whirlwind sweeping away all your scribbled notes and took your hand to walk through every second with him.

And for the first time in forever, you weren’t rushing to be in another place or calculating your next move. For the first time, you think you were content enough to stay.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes au #biker!bucky #biker!bucky x you #biker!bucky x reader #biker!bucky x y/n #biker!bucky au #biker!bucky fic #biker!bucky imagine #biker!bucky one shot #sebastian stan #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan fics #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Like A Dream

October 4, 2021

Prompt - Walks in the Forest

Characters - Mack, Brady, Royce, and Bentley

Notes - This takes place in the same "camping with the Birch's AU" as the one I did a couple days ago.

October 4th,

So Mick’s world is weird. They have phones that aren’t connected to the wall, some of their cars don’t have doors, and their music is… interesting. We’ve been here since, I think, Friday. Their world and ours are days apart - give or take seventy years - and it’s still screwing me up a bit. It’s nice to be here, though. I actually like the cabin life so far. Aunt Mack and Uncle Brady are so much nicer than I thought they’d be. It’s like they treat Benny and me like their own kids sometimes, even though they already have Mick. They’re always making breakfast for everyone and spending time with us all. It feels like I’m in one of those TV shows back home where it’s all about family and they treat their kids really well and, even when something bad happens, in the end, they’re all happy. I’m so happy we did this. It’s kind of like a dream.

With a contented sigh, Royce closed his journal and set it under his pillow. Bentley had been up for about five minutes, the smell of cooking bacon being the thing that woke him. Royce, on the other hand, had been awake for the better part of an hour, lounging in bed for the most part before deciding to write a bit. Bentley rose from his bed, finally, stretching until he hit the top bar of Royce’s bunk. The fourteen-year-old pulled himself up, peering over the side of the metal bars so he could see Royce’s face.

“Why are you in bed still?” he asked.

“I should be asking you why you aren’t,” Royce teased, pushing his brother back with a hand to the face. “Mr. I-sleep-until-noon-on-Saturdays.”

Bentley let out a muffled, “Hey!” before dropping himself to the floor again. “I think Auntie Mack is making breakfast again. That’s the only reason I’m awake.”

Royce slid to the end of the bed and climbed down, following Bentley downstairs. “Place your bets, is she making pancakes or waffles? I’m saying waffles.”

“I think pancakes,” Bentley said after thinking for a moment. “We had waffles yesterday.”

“Yeah, but Uncle Brady loves waffles,” Royce stated as they made their way down the stairs to the main floor.

“Good morning, boys!” Brady called from his seat on one of the island barstools. “Are you ready for an adventure today?”

“Are we going swimming in the lake again?” Bentley asked as he perched himself on Brady’s left. A plate of food was placed before him and his brother as Mack turned to see them.

“No,” Mack stated firmly, sending her husband a look as he opened his mouth to speak. “It’s only going to be in the mid-fifties today, so the water will be far too cold for you boys to swim in. I don’t want either of you to end up sick, especially on vacation.”

Brady shut his mouth and nodded, knowing better than to argue with his wife. “Yes, ma’am,” he sighed. “Maybe Wednesday. It’s supposed to be in the seventies.”

“So,” Royce began from his spot on Brady’s other side, “what adventure were you talking about?”

Brady lit up once again, reaching up and placing a hand on each of the boys’ backs. “I figured we could go on a walk in the woods today. There’s a trail just east of the lake that we can take. It leads up to a lookout lodge so we can see the entire area. The view is amazing from up there.”

Mack sighed, leaning against the counter with a small frown. “Brady, as much as I love the idea of walking in the woods for who knows how long, Royce has asthma. I don’t think he should-”

“I can manage!” Royce insisted, cutting the older woman off hurriedly. After realizing his mistake, he paused. “Sorry, Aunt Mack. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

With a smile, Mack reached over and ran a hand over Royce’s hair before leaving it on his cheek a moment. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re excited and I understand that; I just want you to stay safe. I don’t want anything to happen to any of you. Did you bring your inhaler?”

“Miles keeps it for me,” Royce stated matter-of-factly. “If we ask, I’m sure he’ll let me bring it.”

“Bring what?” Miles asked sleepily as he made his way into the kitchen. His hair was a disaster and he was still in his pajamas, making it known to everyone that he was barely awake.

“Royce needs his inhaler so we can go on a walk in the forest with Uncle Brady and Auntie Mack,” Bentley said around a mouthful of eggs.

Miles nodded slowly as Mack handed him a cup of coffee. “It’s in my backpack. I’ll dig it out before you go.”

“You’re not going?” Brady asked.

“Nah,” Miles said with a shake of his head. “Lela wanted to go take pictures of birds so I’m going with her to Curly Creek while Mick and Butch go shopping.”

“Oh, Lela will love that,” Mack claimed with a bright smile. “We’ll miss you guys on the walk.”

“You’ll have fun,” Miles brushed off, waving his hand briefly before picking up his coffee and heading for the lounge to watch TV. Along the way, he ruffled both his brothers’ hair, smiling at them before leaving the room. “Take pictures for me.”

After eating their breakfast, the boys headed for their bedroom, grabbing whatever they deemed necessary for their walk. Backpacks were filled with snacks and water, and the boys were dressed in their usual clothes with an additional, borrowed flannel from Brady. They made their way downstairs not long after they’d laced up their boots, meeting Mack and Brady on the outside porch after grabbing Royce’s inhaler from Miles just in case. Mack was dressed in a long-sleeved, purple shirt with a light, plaid vest over it while Brady donned a light jacket. Brady had a backpack secured over his shoulders and clasped in the front while Mack only had her phone in her pocket and a water bottle in her hand.

A few minutes of walking later, and they reached the beginning of the trail. It was well lit and maintained, with fallen trees and thin logs gracing the sides of the path so it wouldn’t be strayed from. The trees seemed to fill the skies as they began their trek. Large pines, sugar maples, firs, and the occasional birch trees lined the area, sprawling onward as far as their eyes could see. The walk was filled with chatter as they conversed with one another and stopped for the occasional picture. It was truly beautiful. Some leaves had fallen as others were turning colors and, with the sun illuminating them from above, they cast a glow of fiery colors around the area.

While the air had a certain chill to it, the amount of walking they were doing made up for it. The trail, thankfully, wasn’t too much of an incline, just the occasional hill as they walked up the mountain. Now and then, they’d stop to drink, perhaps taking a bit longer to see the streams when they got close enough to see them. All in all, it took almost an hour before they could see the lodge in the distance.

“Look, Royce,” Bentley called from the front of their line, “we’re almost there!”

“Yeah,” Royce huffed before coughing. He hated this. Well, he didn’t hate the nature around them or the journey with his brother, Mack, and Brady, just how his lungs reacted to the walking. There weren’t very many bugs around to bother them or any other people on the trail so there was nothing to complain about apart from his crappy lung capacity.

Brady, who had taken up the rear so he could make sure everyone was safe, placed a hand on Royce’s back. “You need to stop, bud?” Royce shook his head, making Brady knit his eyebrows together. “You sure? It’s fine if you do.”

“I can make it,” the sixteen-year-old exhaled sharply, sucking in another breath. “It’s not-” he paused to cough a few times, “it’s not far.”

“Royce,” Mack began, stopping in her place. Although she sounded firm, Royce could make out the gentleness in her tone, “you’re not sounding good. If you want to stop and use your inhaler, we can. It’s not a problem.”

“I’m fi-” and queue more coughing, “Ugh.”

Bentley peeked around Mack’s shoulder before moving around her and stepping toward his brother. “You’re sweating and you sound all wheezy.”

“It h-hurts.” Royce sucked in a sharp breath, a cough forcing its way out of him as he reached a hand to his chest. Brady began rubbing circles on Royce’s back, the only thing he could think of that would help. After a minute, Royce stopped coughing, allowing Brady to guide him to sit on one of the tree branches that lined the pathway.

Bentley pulled off his backpack and pulled a bottle of water out of it. He handed it to Royce as he crouched in front of him, watching Mack as she sat next to Royce and took one of his hands. “Bentley, honey, where’s Royce’s inhaler?”

“The front pocket,” the youngest answered softly. He turned to his brother and sighed, “I told you when we stopped last time that you should’ve taken it.”

Royce nodded slowly, not wanting to argue as Mack pulled his inhaler from his bag. “Can you take it now or do you need a minute?” she asked him, placing a hand on his arm.

Royce shook his head, fidgeting with the water bottle in his grasp. He gripped the cover and opened it, taking in a choppy, deep breath to steady his hands as he lifted it to take a drink. Afterward, he took his inhaler from Mack and, while it took him two tries to get in any medicine, he’d still been able to get it into him. They sat in relative silence for a few minutes as Bentley knelt on the ground, gripping Royce’s knees, Mack held one of his hands, and Brady rubbed circles over his back. As calming as it was, Royce couldn’t help the embarrassment he felt. He’d been so eager to have fun and get to the lodge that he’d neglected his health and now, apart from Bentley, some people he barely knew, had to take care of him.

“I’m-” he gave a short cough. At least he sounded less wheezy when he breathed. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, baby,” Mack spoke to him. “It’s not something you can control.”

“It is,” he mumbled insistently.

Brady sighed, taking Royce’s water bottle and setting it down before taking hold of the teenager’s hand. “You were excited and weren’t focused on it, that’s all. I would’ve done the same thing. Nobody is going to blame you for being an excited kid.”

Royce spared a glance to either side, seeing nothing but concern and love from Mack and Brady. It was weird. He’d messed up and refused to take his inhaler even though he knew he needed it, why were they being so nice? “Why-Why aren’t you mad?”

Mack and Brady shared a look over Royce’s shoulder “Mad?” Brady wondered aloud. “Of course not. Why would we be?”

Bentley huffed from the ground, picking blades of grass from the path. “Dad was always mad.”

Mack sighed, brushing Bentley’s hair from his face and threading her fingers through Royce’s curls. “We could never be mad at either of you, especially for something like this. We love you both far too much for that.”

“We know you love us,” Bentley said with a smile. “We love you guys.”

“Yeah,” Royce confirmed, clearing his throat before continuing. “What do we do now?”

“Well,” Brady began slowly, “we’ll sit for a few until the albuterol kicks in, and then we’ll make it the rest of the way.”

“We can go now,” Royce stated. “I’m feeling better.”

Mack scoffed lightly, “We do that and Brady will probably carry you to the lodge.”

“I absolutely will,” Brady confirmed. “How about you boys tell us about that book you were reading last night on the couch? The Time Machine, right? By H.G. Wells?”

“Yeah!” Bentley exclaimed, quickly going into a rant on the book, allowing Royce to chime in from time to time as he rattled on.

Now and then, Royce looked to Mack and Brady out of the corner of his eyes, seeing them smiling warmly at Bentley and himself. He could still feel his ears burning with embarrassment but, if he was going to be honest with himself, it felt nice to be taken care of by them. Mack and Brady were so kind and cared for him and Bentley so much more than he could’ve ever expected them to. It was weird, but certainly not unwelcome.

It was times like these that he really did feel like he was in one of those shows back home and he was right; it was like a dream.

#foreveralwaysprompts #writing #writing prompt

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (chapter 2)

Chapter 2

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,628

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

              Despite complaining about walking to work, Catalina was sort of looking forward to the hike. She could see the mountains from wherever she was in this town, and they were beautiful. It was seven in the morning and Catalina was half dead. After a cup of coffee and a hearty breakfast though, she was ready to go. Jungkook had texted her the day before giving her a time, eight am, and his home address. No other details, such as what to wear to work, which would have been helpful. She had texted him back but he never answered, so she wore a plain black t-shirt with jeans. She figured that was neutral enough.

               Jungkook’s house turned out to be right around the block, so it was a short walk. The house was old, two stories, grey brick, square and narrow. Catalina knocked on the door and waited. Jungkook opened the door right away.

               “Hey, come on in,” he said, holding the door open. Catalina closed the door behind her and looked around. The inside looked like it hadn’t been redecorated since the 70’s, but it was still cozy and homey. Jungkook led the way up the stairs to a small bedroom at the end of the hall. His hair was still a mess and he wasn’t wearing shoes.

               “Are your parents home?” asked Catalina.

               “No, they’re at work. They’ll come home in a few hours,” he said.

               “The night shift?” asked Catalina.

               “Yeah, they’re nurses. They’ve worked the night shift ever since me and my brother started high school,” said Jungkook. He was sitting on his bed, lacing up a pair of Timberlands.

               The bedroom was a mess, clothes scattered across the floor, piles of tangled wires in the corner. A bookshelf was against the left wall filled with video games and stuffed animals. Beside the bookshelf, a surfboard, a snowboard, and a skateboard all leaned against the wall. A glass of milk sat on the desk by the door and there was a hole in the wall right above that. Catalina could see into the next bedroom through it, which looked similar to this room. The whole bedroom stunk like…

               “Dude, this milk is bad,” said Catalina. She scrunched her nose and shuffled away from it.

               “It is?” asked Jungkook. He picked it up and sniffed it. He reared back and gagged loudly. Catalina threw her head back laughing.

               “Why did you sniff it?” she asked.

               “I don’t know! Shut up!” he said. He took one last tentative sniff of it before setting it down and grabbing a hairbrush.

               “Have you eaten yet?”

               “No I just got up, like a few minutes before you got here,” he said. “I was thinking we could stop somewhere on the way.”

               “Won’t we be late?” asked Catalina.

               “Just McDonalds, nothing fancy!” he said.

               “What time do we have to be there?”

               “Eight.”

               “Dude! We’re gonna be late!”

               “Just quick! We’ll go through the drive through!”

               “We’re walking!”

                 A half an hour later found Catalina and Jungkook starting on the trail up the mountain. Jungkook was wolfing down three McMuffins, tater tots, and a frozen coffee. The walk through the drive through was something Catalina never wanted to do again.

               The hike, though intimidating, was very nice. They talked about their childhoods and other random stories while they walked. The woods were beautiful; enormous, ancient trees towering all around them. Catalina remembered Jungkook telling her about people skiing in these mountains. She didn’t know a whole lot about the sport, but she was pretty sure the trees would get in the way.

               “Now, I don’t know enough about skiing, but I feel like all these trees would get in the way,” said Catalina. Jungkook chuckled.

               “Yeah, there’s slopes at the top that you take lifts to get to. No one skis here,” said Jungkook. “We’ll go this winter.”

               “Yeah, you keep saying that. Anyway, this is a really nice hike, but I bet you we won’t feel like doing this every time,” said Catalina. “We’re gonna get sick of it after the first few times.”

               “No way. R.I.P. to you but I’m different,” said Jungkook.

               Catalina sighed. “That was lame. And you’re the only one here who has a car, so…”

               “I know, I’m just kidding,” he said.

               The trail let them out onto the road, which they followed until they reached the gift shop. It was a small building on the side of the road which advertised trail maps, souvenirs and camping necessities. A little bell rang above the door as they stepped inside. Hoodies, snow globes and tacky, racist Native American merchandise greeted them inside.

               “You’re late,” someone said. A woman in her late 40’s rounded one of the shelves and crossed her arms.

               “What? Not we’re not!” Jungkook checked the time on his phone. They were indeed late. Catalina sighed. Great first impression.

               “We’re really sorry ma’am. Someone had to get McDonalds on the way here,” she said.

               The woman sighed. “Call me Helen. And it’s okay. It’s not like they’re bustin’ the door down.”

               Sure enough, besides them, the store was empty. Helen showed them how to work the register, where the back room was, and how to close at seven.

               “Just be friendly with the customers. I’m not gonna be here on weekends, so keep yourselves occupied,” said Helen. And with that, she left the store. The rest of the day went by slowly. Not many people came in, so Catalina and Jungkook mostly just hung out and goofed around.

               When Catalina got home later that night, she was exhausted. They only had a few customers that day, the rest of the time was spent chatting and making fun of the Indian goods.

               Her bed, which was still just a mattress on the floor, was a welcome sight.

                  The only thing she could feel was a deep-seated fear. It made her palms sweat and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The narrow hallways seemed to be never ending. She needed to find a way out. If they caught up to her, she was dead. The faint sound of a floorboard creaking somewhere behind her made her spin around, breath caught in her throat. There was no one there, but the hallway seemed darker than it was before.

               All of a sudden, Catalina found herself in a den. A fire crackled in the fireplace, bookshelves lined the walls and a big desk sat in the corner. It was cozy, and Catalina felt the fear melt away. She felt safe here.

               “Have you read this one?”

               Catalina turned around. A man stood by the hearth. He held up a book, but Catalina couldn’t make out the title since the letters kept shifting.

               “I’m not sure,” she said. This man was dangerous, Catalina could tell by the fear she still felt being around him. But she also knew he wouldn’t hurt her. “I don’t think I’ve read it. What book is it?”

               “I told you about this one yesterday. You would like it,” he said. When he smiled, his dimples caved and his eyes sparked. Catalina no longer felt afraid of him.

                  I Like It, by Cardi B. blasted from the speakers. Sweat dripped from Catalina’s brow.

               “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, one, two, three, STEVE, GODDAMN IT YOU’RE STILL TURNING THE WRONG WAY!” the choreographer shouted. She paused the music and pinched the bridge of her nose. Catalina took the opportunity to breathe and turn to Jimin. He was trying not to laugh.

               “I don’t wanna be here when she kills Steve,” Jimin said under his breath. Catalina giggled.

               “I think it’d be some fun drama,” said Catalina. “Also, he deserves it.”

               Jimin laughed and they got back into position as the music started from the beginning again. Catalina wasn’t really a fan of Cardi B., but the dance was a lot of fun. It was a smooth hip hop, lots of body rolls and sexy partner dancing. Catalina was glad she got Jimin as her partner and not Steve. Steve was pretty bad.

               Once the choreographer called it a day, Catalina and Jimin took their time packing their bags.

               “Do you watch the news at all?” asked Jimin. Catalina shook her head. “Well, it’s the only thing ever on at my house, and I guess there’s like, people going missing in the town next to us.”

               “Whoa, really?” asked Catalina.

               “Yeah, and I was invited to this party, but my mom has been freaking out and she doesn’t want me to go out, so I don’t know if I’m going…”

               “Wow, that’s crazy. Yeah, I mean, it’s not in this town though. So it should be fine to go to a party,” said Catalina. Jimin shrugged.

               “Maybe. Anyway, how was the first day at work?” he asked.

               “Ah, yeah, it was nice. The hike is cool and there’s a bunch of racist Indian goods in the shop. There’s like, barely any customers, so it was pretty chill all day,” she said.

               “That’s cool. I don’t think I’d be able to walk that far to work every day. I’m too lazy,” said Jimin.

               Catalina shrugged. “I mean, a job is a job. But I’ll probably have a ride for a lot of my shifts,” she said. “What about you? Did you get that job in the theater?”

               “Yeah, it’s alright. I guess it’s gonna be mostly just moving chairs around and helping backstage for events,” said Jimin. “But what if I want to audition for a show?”

               “Then they’ll just have to find a replacement for you!” said Catalina. “You deserve to be on stage!”

               Jimin laughed and said, “Thank you. I do deserve to be on stage, don’t I?”

#bts #bts fanfction #nights of the night #kim namjoon #namjoon #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #park jimin #kim taehyung #jung hoseok #min yoongi #Jimmy K #captain kirk #vampire au #crystalstar

[slash-em-up]

In-Flight Entertainment Pt. 1: ChromeSkull x Reader

This was supposed to be a one-shot; but then it started creeping up on 2k words and I figured I better chop it up. Part 2 will be up soon and 90% smut.

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

You were not ashamed to say that you hated airports. Absolutely hated them. The bustle, the smell, the overpriced coffee… There was nothing about them that inspired less then complete loathing in you. So when your boss gave you a heads-up that you’d be traveling to LA for a company meeting, you could only groan internally.

Nothing ever seemed to go right when you flew - a belief further cemented by the unexpected snowstorm that had caused your current situation: A ten-hour layover in Denver.

You were going to be so late for your meeting.

Your carry-on seemed to weigh a ton as you lugged it off the plane, cursing yourself for not fixing the loose wheel before you left as it swerved and pulled your case back and forth behind you.

Sighing heavily, you adjusted the barley-hull pillow wrapped loosely around your neck so it wasn’t pulling on your hair quite as uncomfortably, and searched for the sign to direct you towards your next gate.

On the other side of the airport. Great. At least you didn’t have to worry about being late for take-off.

Passing through the airport, you couldn’t help but glance around at the multitude of shops and small restaurants that peppered the space. It almost looked like a mall, if you discounted the weary look your fellow travelers all seemed to be sporting and the cases trailing behind them like colorful dogs.

You’d have to stop somewhere to eat. The small package of pretzels and soda you’d consumed on your first flight had done little to tide you over, and now you were feeling more than a little peckish. And thirsty. And stressed. You’d kill a man for a decent Old Fashioned.

Arriving at your gate, you plopped down onto one of the barely padded seats with a sigh. Nine hours and twenty-three minutes until takeoff. A family of six sat next to you, immediately starting in on a very loud and expressive argument. It was definitely time to go find that airport bar - but first, you needed a quick refresh in the ladies room.

Dropping your carry-on with the rest of the luggage you trotted across the large hallway, having extricated your makeup bag from your case before leaving it with the desk-steward. There were a pair of eye-masks in there calling your name.

It was insane how enjoyable leaning up against a hard wall with your eyes closed could be after five hours cramped in Coach. You stretched up and down on the balls of your feet as your muscles slowly relaxed, leaving you feeling a bit better than when you’d arrived. Now you just needed food.

That was the only thing on your mind as you shuffled back to the desk and snagged your case from the luggage corral.

Even your case felt lighter. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a horrible layover after all.

“Excuse me Ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to come with us.”

Aaaannnddd you’d spoken too soon.

You spun quickly, taking in the very large, very serious looking men in suits standing shoulder to shoulder behind you.

“…Me? Me, Ma’am?”

The suit-twins eyes narrowed.

“Yes, you Ma’am. Don’t try to run, we’ve already got security on alert.”

You gaped in shock.

“Why would I try to run? I haven’t done anything!”

One of the men sneered as the other looked at you like you were an idiot.

“So that’s your bag, is it Ma’am?”

You blinked.

“Uh, yeah it’s my…”

Your voice trailed off as you took a closer look at the bag you were holding.

Sharp corners, no scratched metallic paint, a gleaming ‘RIMOWA’ screeching up at you from the side…

Well that explained the wheel…

The silver hard-sided case was definitely not yours.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I must have grabbed this one by mistake. I’ll take it back, I’m so -”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple ma’am. You’ll still need to come with us.”

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

You were getting the distinct feeling that you were fucked. Or, were about to be.

What the hell was in that suitcase?

The suited men had ushered you quickly to a side-elevator, punching a code into a keypad before pushing a button labeled ‘P’.

They’d yanked the case from you the first moment you were out of public view and now seemed intently focused on making sure you stayed still and quiet.

Even minutely adjusting the pillow still draped across your shoulders had made them both twitch like they were expecting a fight.

The elevator ding sounded ominous as you were quickly led down a gleaming, white hall - each side covered from floor to ceiling in magnificently large windows, offering a spectacular view of the departing planes and the snow-covered Rockies far behind.

The only break in-between were what looked like small sitting rooms. It dawned on you that these must be the VIP lounges. Like, the VIP-est of the VIPs. Shit, who’s luggage had you stolen, Lady Gaga’s??

You were brought to an abrupt stop at one of the closed doors, pausing outside as one suited man knocked quietly, entering after some unknown signal, bag in-tow; as the second man stayed outside - never removing his eyes from you.

“I can apologize in person if that’s what you’re after. I’m a big girl, I can own up to having grabbed the wrong bag - I just think the whole secret service thing is a little over the top…”

The guard didn’t blink.

Ok, this was getting ridiculous.

“I’m SORRY MR. OBAMA, I DIDN’T MEAN TO STEAL YOUR CASE!”

Your arm was grasped firmly as the suit dragged you a little closer to the door.

“BEYONCE? I PROMISE I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!”

The grasp on your arm turned into a solid shake, nearly knocking you against the wall.

“Shut up!” the guard hissed.

You sneered up at him.

“COME ON SNOOP DOGG, I THOUGHT YOU’D BE COOLER THAN THIS!”

The door opened, allowing the other guard to exit with a look at you like you’d just signed your own death certificate.

“He wants to see her.”

“He, who?!”

The man grasping your arm pulled you quickly, spinning you into the room and closing the door firmly behind you.

You blinked, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the sudden dim lighting of the small room; taking in the plush modern couches lining the walls, the two-person dining table, the open pair of suitcases on the glass coffee-table, and then finally, to the man sitting casually behind the luggage, inspecting a pair of underwear from your case.

“Ah… Pitbull. You were going to be my next guess…”

A single brown eye flicked up to meet yours, followed by a loud snort and a half-smirk.

His head tilted as he examined you, and you did the same.

Gaze wandering from his black dress shoes, up his long black-clad legs, over his broad torso - dress shirt uncuffed and sleeves rolled up to expose fully tattooed forearms - then finally to his face. You weren’t an expert by any means; but even to you it was pretty clear he’d undergone some extensive reconstructive surgery at some point. His entire face, all the way up to his bald head looked… off… The black leather eyepatch was also a little bit of a give-away.

He allowed you a few more moments to take him in before reaching down and pulling a phone out of his pocket.

You jumped slightly as an electronic voice sounded through the room.

“I’ll have to address security with the airport. You’re either an exceptional thief, or they really suck at their jobs.”

Now it was your turn to snort.

“Believe me, of the two, they’re definitely more likely to just suck at their jobs.”

His gaze never left you as he reached down and plucked out the romance novel you’d stuffed into your bag for the flight, waving it teasingly.

“I almost believe you.” He typed.

You looked down, starting to feel embarrassed.

“Look, I’m really sorry for this mix-up. I swear I didn’t know it was your bag.”

Without commenting, the man rose from his seat.

Holy shit, he was tall.

He walked slowly, like he had all the time in the world and knew you weren’t going anywhere.

He stopped as he reached the small dining table, leaning down to open a mini-bar placed inconspicuously against the wall and grasp two small bottles of alcohol.

He shook them in your direction and raised his visible brow in question.

“God, yes.”

He snorted again and made short work of pouring the libation into a set of non-descript glasses; offering you one before motioning for you to take a seat.

You relaxed back into the pale leather, pausing for a moment to quickly (and hopefully discreetly) remove the pillow from around your shoulders.

The glint in the man’s eye told you he’d noticed and was once again amused by you.

You took a large gulp of the liquid in your glass and almost immediately started choking on it.

“FUCK!” you hacked out “What *cough* the fuck is this?!”

A broad grin and shaking shoulders met your watery eyes as the man reached over to type something into his phone.

“I understand ASL, unless *hng* you’re just some wacko who doesn’t like to talk.”

The man nodded before setting his phone back down.

‘It’s Lagavulin. Not exactly something you try to shoot.’

You took another - much smaller - sip and nodded.

“I’m sure under different circumstances it would be wonderful.”

‘Different circumstances?’

“Yeah, well it’s kind of hard to enjoy something so nice when you’re being accused of stealing and are more or less imprisoned.”

The man leaned back in his seat.

‘I know you didn’t take my case… at least, not for any reason I’m concerned about.’

You blinked.

“You do?”

He nodded succinctly before signing.

‘If you knew who I was and were trying to take my case, you wouldn’t have drunk something I gave you so readily.’

Again, you were feeling more than a little dumbfounded.

“So… I can go?”

A long arm motioned towards the white door.

‘Anytime you like; do you have somewhere pressing you need to be?’

You thought sadly about the uncomfortable chairs and family of six waiting for you back at your gate.

“… Not really.”

‘Layover to LA?’

“Yeah! You too?”

The man nodded, looking at you sympathetically.

‘Guessing you’re not business class.’

You laughed out loud at that.

“Ha! No way, who’s got the -… well I guess you do.”

He answered with a shrug.

‘I’d like to buy you dinner, by way of an apology for all the hassle today.’

A small smile crossed your lips as you thought about it.

On one hand, he’d kind of had you kidnapped and implied that if you’d known who he was you would have expected him to poison you or something… But on the other hand, this was definitely the most interesting trip you’d taken, and it was largely in part to do with this guy…

Eh what the hell.

“I’m Y/N.”

The man grinned widely, showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth.

‘Call me Jesse.’

#jessica writes #jesse cromeans #jesse cromeans x reader #chromeskull #chromeskull x reader #laid to rest (2009) #chromeskull: laid to rest 2 #horror movies #slasher fiction

[goldencatchflies]

Cherries and Strawberries

read on ao3

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1513

Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, could be read as platonic

Characters: Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Original Female Character (OFC)

Additional Tags: cottage core aesthetic coffee shop, grumpy Spencer Reid, fluff, there’s a lot of fluff, there’s a bit of teasing too, caramel coffee, strawberry pies, cherry pies, Moreid- freeform, again could be read as platonic

Summary: It was routine by now. At 8:27 am, he put on the coffee. At 8:29 am, he poured it into a mug, and added 7 spoons of sugar. He made his way back to to his desk, and set the mug on the desk next to him. At 8:30 and grumpy Spencer stumbled out of the elevator, arms crossed, making his way to his own desk.

Today was different though. Today he left a note.

It was routine by now. At 8:27 am, he put on the coffee. At 8:29 am, he poured it into a mug, and added 7 spoons of sugar. He made his way back to to his desk, and set the mug on the desk next to him. At 8:30 and grumpy Spencer stumbled out of the elevator, arms crossed, making his way to his own desk. As soon as he sits down, his head falls lifelessly on the surface in front of him. At 8:35 am, he lifts his head, and starts drinking the coffee in front of him. He doesn’t really know when he started doing this small favor for his co-worker, but it’s been going on for a few months. Today was different though. Today he left a note.

Spencer lifted his head, and as he went to grab the mug, he noticed a pink post it next to the handle.

This might not be that good, sorry pretty boy! The coffee was already made, and I didn’t want to wast it, so it might be cold, also we ran out of sugar so I put 4 of it and 3 of caramel. I’m really sorry, I’ll go out and buy one if you end up not wanting it— Der

He removed the post it, and brought the mug to his lips. It was surprisingly good, besides the fact that it was already cold. He looked at Derek, and nodded at him. He scribbled something down on a green post it, scrambled it into a little ball, and threw it at Derek. It landed in his lap, and he furrowed his eyebrows, a smile on his face as he picked it up and read it.

You are forgiven, but I still want coffee, you were right, it’s too cold, but I did like the caramel thing. I drive by a local coffee shop every morning, it’s amazing!!! I could send you the location if you’d be so kind to get me one :)

— S.

Derek chuckled, as he got up shooting Spencer a look, grabbing his leather jacket and making his way to the elevator. Spencer looked around to see that the bull pen was about half empty, and the ones that were their were either head deep in work, or playing on their phones (although the latter was only Emily that was sitting in the desk across form Derek’s). He didn’t watch the way Morgan’s ass moved as he walked away. Quickly he looked back down to his paperwork, as soon as he saw Morgan getting in the elevator and turning around-facing him.

___

Derek walked into the coffee shop, and it’s like he entered a movie. The waiters walked around in white flats, with plain white dresses to match. Their hairs were in messy buns, held up by beige scrunchies. The walls had the top half painted white, and the bottom half a light beige. There were leaves, and-very alive-flowers across the borders of the walls, and fairy lights at the top, above the large windows. There were curtains at the ends, being held by a bay pink ribbons that matched the shades of the flows that peaked out behind it. There was such a cottage core aesthetic to this coffee shop, so soft and warming, that Derek couldn’t help but feel welcome.

“Good morning! How may help you?” A very polite woman said at the other end of the counter as he walked up to it.

“Hello, can I get a large, black, caramel coffee with 4 sugars to go please?” He answered.

“Of course, anything else?” She asked as she pressed some buttons in the machine between them. He watched as the price appeared on the screen next to it—$2.50. Wow two fifty for a large coffee, no wonder Spencer likes this place. Derek thought to himself, but his attention got snatched away as soon as he noticed the bite-sized pies they had on display.

“Um... how much for two of those?” He asked, pointing to them.

“They’re free for first timers, what flavor would like?” She asked, and rung them up, the price not changing in the monitor. How does she know I’ve never been here before? He tried not to dwell on the thought, and occupied himself by answering her question.

“Cherry and Strawberry, if you’ve got those.” He gave her a smile, and she nodded, removing two from different rows, and placing them on a white paper bag with baby pink flowers drawn on it. Again with the baby pink flowers. Can’t say I blame them, thought, it is cute!

“Would that be all, sir?” She asked, handing him the bag, her politeness never leaving her voice.

“Yes, thank you!” He said reaching for his wallet, and handing her a five dollar bill. He placed the change in the white painted maison jar that had ‘tips’ written in it with such a light rifle-green shade, Derek wondered how he was able to read it so clearly. A few minutes later, she handed him the coffee on a light green paper cup, with leaf prints on it.

“Have good day!” She waved him goodbye.

“You too, ma’am!” He smiled back, as he left the coffee shop, only now noticing the pride flag waving next to the door, on the outside.

___

He walked into the bullpen with the biggest smile on his face as he made his way to Spencer. He sat at the corner of his friend’s desk, and placed the coffee and the bag next to him. Spencer didn’t miss the happiness written all over the other man.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” He said, a grumpiness was still present in his tone, but he wasn’t as grumpy anymore. He picked up the coffee, and brought it to his lips, looking up at Derek through his lashes, before he closed his eyes and happily hummed into his beverage.

“I don’t know... something about that coffee shop, it was so...” he trailed off as he looked around, staring at nothing specifically.

“Yeah, I know...” Spencer responded, setting the cup down, and grabbing the bag in front of him. “What else did you get?”

“Cherry and Strawberry mini pies.” He answered, as Reid pulled them both out of the white bag. They had ‘cherry’ and ‘strawberry’ decoratively written on them with red, and pink-what Spencer could only assume was-food coloring markers. They looked so cute, that Spencer could stare at them for hours, if he wasn’t so hungry. “I know you like strawberry pies, so I got you that one, to see if you’d stop being so grumpy.” Derek said with playful smirk on his face, and he grabbed the cherry pie and took a bite of it—surprised at how good it tasted.

Derek wasn’t really a fan of pies, he was more of cake guy himself, but this? This was so good, Derek thought he might combust! And, plus, it was free. Spencer rolled his eyes at the comment, but couldn’t help the smile splattered across his lips. He took a bite of his own strawberry pie, and furrowed his brows immediately.

“Mmm! That amazing!” He said, covering his mouth his free hand, then moving to grab the coffee once again. “I had never tried one of those, how much was it?” He asked, and just like that, all that grumpiness was gone.

“Free for first-timers!” Derek said, scrambling the flowery napkin that came with their treats, shooting, and scoring in the trash of his own desk. He gave a small cheer, and though Spencer shook his head in fake-annoyance, he couldn’t stop smiling at the man sitting on his desk. “How’s the coffee?” He asked him.

“Meh, it’s ok...” he said, with a shit-eating grin.

“Ok? Why, not enough sweetness?” Derek teased.

“No, there’s enough sweetness.” He said matter-of-factly. “But you didn’t make it, so...” he leaned forward, looking up at Derek, the grin not dropping for one second. Where he’d gotten this sudden burst of confidence? He had no idea, but he wasn’t about to let it go to waste. Derek raised his eyebrows, and chuckled playfully.

“I see...” he said placing a soft kiss to Spencer’s cheek as he slipped off his desk, and made his way to his own. Spencer’s face turned a strong shade of peach, as that confidence slipped away, rather too quickly for his taste. He finished the—actually amazing coffee, he lied before—and tossing it out along with the bag and two napkins that were left.

And that was their new routine. Derek makes coffee, Spencer arrives, and during the five minutes of morning procrastination, Derek went to buy two pies for them. He got back, they ate the pies at Spencer’s desk and got to work. When they were way on cases, Derek made sure to get each of them a full sized pie once they came back. It was their own thing, and if others thought anything of it no one dared to comment.

#maggie writes 😛 #cm #cm fan fiction #cm fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #moreid #sperek #spencer x derek #fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #moreid fanfic #moerid fic #sperek fanfic #maggie writes #maggies fics

[cialbi]

Boy with Hope: Lavender - Chapter Three

Summary: Severely depressed and addicted to alcohol, you had given up entirely on life. Your passion was gone, your friends had left you and you found yourself completely alone. As you closed your eyes for the last time, the smell of lavender wafted through your nose and a boy with purple wings appeared above you.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Fantasy

Pairings: Angel Hoseok x Reader

Warnings: Language, Depression, Alcoholism, Future Smut

⤎Previous

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The bell over the door of Martin’s Liquor Store jingled softly when you stepped inside, your leg trailing a few inches behind the other as you limped on your injured knee.

All that running like a speed-demon had really taken it out of you, so you gave yourself a second to catch your breath. Your knee was almost numb with pain, and now that the adrenaline had worn off, you were feeling the repercussions in full. The withdrawal symptoms were making you woozy, and you found it hard to keep your focus as you skimmed the shop from left to right.

It smelled steryl, like someone had washed the floors with peroxide, and the blinding white of the fluorescent lights reminded you of the long hallways of a hospital. The space was filled with rows upon rows of alcohol that lined tall vinyl shelves, and the white concrete walls were covered up in advertisement posters for different kinds of brand name booze. Aside from the handful of red-aproned shopkeepers milling about the store, it was completely empty inside. They’d probably just opened.

Guess it was only you who shopped for alcohol at 8:00am in the morning.

The red-haired guy behind the counter looked up from his phone and shot you an odd look, eyes wandering up and down your filthy-clothed, barefoot body, and suddenly you felt very much in your role as the crazy alcoholic. You could only imagine how wild you appeared as you sweated in your soiled white-t and over-worn sweatpants. Smoothing your hair unhelpfully, you sent him a meek smile which he didn’t return. With a downward tug to your lips, you dismissed him quickly, pushing past his inquisitive stare and focused your attention on the task at hand.

You were here for one thing.

And that was not a fashion contest.

There wasn’t much time before those two cross-wearing loons caught up to you, so you knew you had to move fast. You swallowed, remembering the intent, predatory look in the other guys eyes. If he were the one to catch you, you had a feeling he wouldn’t be as nice as Hoseok, because Hoseok was at least a kind psychopath. The thought of what a scary psychopath might do to you made you concentrate.

Wine, wine, wine, where is it? Rocking on the balls of your feet, you scanned the aisles for your poison of choice: red wine.

There was something about red wine in particular that attracted you; perhaps it was the calming, musky smell, or the way it made you feel warm and giddy. Maybe it was the velvety texture on your tongue, or the brisk and tangy aftertaste it left in your mouth. Maybe it was the way your cheeks boiled in a delightful flush, burnishing the edges of life and enveloping you in a false sense of contentment.

Or maybe it was because, red wine was the drink that popped your alcohol cherry.

It was at a thanksgiving party where you had had your first taste. You had just turned eighteen, so your mom had allowed you to drink with the rest of the grownups that year, pouring you that half-glass of red wine that would be the start to your never-ending sob story. Every alcoholic had a vice and yours was the fruity red liquid that felt like hugs in your stomach.

Inhaling strongly, you could practically smell the scent of fermented grape.

Your throat itched with thirst.

A soft touch to your shoulder had you jump in your skin. You whirled around expecting to see Hoseok and his black-haired friend, but instead were met with the concerned, freckle-spattered face of one of the shop attendees. “Can I help you find something, ma’am?” He was the nice, helpful-sort of guy, maybe a little nerdy, but he had a comfortable look to his appearance that made him seem approachable.

“S-sorry…” You managed to stutter, averting your gaze to the clean tiled floor. “I’m looking for the red wine.”

The man pinched his lips together, examining you intently as if he were debating whether or not to accomplice you in your destructive mission. After a moment, he sighed and pointed to the back of the store at a laminated sign that read “WINE” hanging from the ceiling.

You thanked him quietly and limp-scurried down the aisles.

Their wine section was vast. Nearly two giant cases were lined with the more expensive bottles, and big wicker baskets were spread across the floor, filled to the top with the cheaper bottles. You usually went for the cheaper stuff; the bottles were bigger and they gave you a stronger buzz, so you knelt down besides the closest basket and picked up the first bottle you saw; Apothic Red Blend, only $9.47.

Sounds toxic.

Perfect.

As you began to stand and make your way to the register, you noticed something off about the bottle you chose. A tiny splotch towards the bottom swayed subtly from within, a few shades too dark compared to the crimson color of the wine. Knitting your brows, you scrunched back down and investigated, holding it close to your face as you squinted into the depth of red. There was something inside.

Squinting even harder, the bottle was practically touching your eyeball as you tried to figure out what it could be. What is that? A bit of cork maybe? It looked a little big to be a bit of cork. A grape, maybe?

You whirled the bottle, trying to get a better look at the little piece of something that was floating around inside. A coin-sized object swirled in circular motions amidst the rapids you created; it was shiny and brown like a giant coffee bean, perfectly ovular with two little... tails? No...wait... were those...?

Hairs?

Your heart began to pound against your chest. What the actual flip!? What kind of store sells booze with hairy grapes?

You looked even closer. No those aren’t hairs...

They’re fucking antenna!

With a screech, you threw the bottle from your hands and sent it crashing against the floor; glass smashed to smithereens and red liquid splattering across white tile.

It was a bug.

No, it was a fucking cockroach.

Your absolute worst fear.

Staring repulsively at it’s belly-up carcass, you wondered how in the hell a cockroach could have gotten inside a concealed wine bottle. It would have had to have gotten there before they corked the top, which begged the question of whether it could have fit through the tiny opening at all. And further matter, did cockroaches even like alcohol? They were disgusting creatures who ate absolutely anything, but this was a new one.

You gagged, creating some distance. Thank god it’s at least dead.

Shuddering, you reached for another bottle, ignoring the roused murmurs of the shopkeepers as they were no doubt wondering what had just happened. The situation maybe have looked bad, but in your defense, there shouldn’t be revolting creatures floating around in their products in the first place. You’d complain to them in a moment.

Reasserting your purpose for being here, grabbed another bottle from the basket. Your fingertips only just touched the second bottle before you shrieked, and threw that one as well. This time, not just one, but a whole stream of cockroaches flooded out from the shattered glass--some of their thin, icky legs still twitching with life. Falling back on your ass, you scooched away from the massive horde of insects. What the fuck was going on? Why are all these bottles filled with bugs?

Opening your mouth to call for help, a little tickle on your index finger caught your attention and you swallowed your words. Stomach dropping, you slowly rotated your neck to look down at your hand and whimpered. You did everything in your power to gulp down the screams that were crawling up your throat as you watched a monstrous-sized roach worm its way between your fingertips, its slimy-smooth antennas poking its way over your flesh.

Oh fuck no!!!

Like a bat out of hell, you flailed your arm to shake it off, using your other hand to rub frantic lines at your skin until it turned a raw pink. When it was finally off your person, you sighed a breath of relief, placing your palm over your chest, and exhaled slowly in attempts to appease your heightened pulse.

It’s gone now Y/N. Everything’s ok, everything’s ok.

It’s gone.

It’s gone.

After a second, more tickling sensations began to creep up your legs, forcing you to look down at your feet.

You nearly puked chunks everywhere.

They were brown. Your legs were brown.

An icky, coackroachy-brown.

“EEEEEEEK OH MY GOD!” You squalled, kicking your feet up and smashing several more bottles from the shelves and wicker baskets.

They were so completely covered in cockroaches that you couldn’t even see the grey of the bottom half of your sweatpants anymore. Their intsy legs squirmed, crawling further and further up until they were nearly to your thigh. Desperately, you tried to brush them off, but they just kept appearing, continuing their charge up your legs and well past your hips. You tried and tried, shrieking like a banshee on crack, but there was too many of them to count!

Where the frackity-frick did all these mother-loving demons come from??

A meager chirp came from behind your ear, causing you to cease your distressed movements and turn your head to look at your shoulder. A lone roach had perched comfortably next to your neck, its stringy arms were crossed as it rubbed them together, signaling to its troops down below. Your scream pierced through the entire store as you began thrashing uncontrollably, dispelling bug after bug from your body, but it was no use.

“GET THEM OFF ME!” You cried, as tears of dread began to roll down your cheeks.

“Ma’am, are you ok?” A red-aproned chest with the liquor store's name appeared from above you. You couldn’t see his face, but assuming it was one of the shopkeepers you reached out and grabbed his sleeved arm perilously.

You clenched your eyes shut, squeezing more tears from your lids. “Get them off me!” You blubbered. “Don’t you see them!? There are cockroaches everywhere! Please help me!”

“Cockroaches? What cockroaches?”

Your eyes snapped open. About to tell him off--how the flipping-fuck could he not see the colossal amounts of cockroaches that were expeditiously consuming you??--you lift your chin to meet his face and howled so loud the windows shook.

He was caped in the creepy, diseased-filled fuckers.

Brown blobs were trickling out from beneath his clothes, his hair, his ears, and one even poked out from the socket of his eyelid before crawling down his face and back into his mouth. It was some grade-A horror movie shit and you were not handling it like a pro.

“No! Get away from me! Don’t touch me!” You screeched, shoving him so hard that he lost balance and flew back into the shelves of expensive wine bottles, toppling it over completely. Glass soared through the air like pellets of hail as bottled after bottle smashed against the hard marble tile.

“Miss, please! You have to calm down!” Two more shopkeepers came running up from different aisles and caged you like a rabid animal.

“There are no cockroaches!” The second one said. “Please, calm down!”

What are these idiots talking about! They’re right there, they’re right--

You peeked an eye open, but, as they had said, there were no cockroaches. The floor was flooded with wines of different colors, brown and green shards of broken glass covered most of the aisle and the toppled shelf lay like an overturned grave on its back. But not a roach in sight. Gasping aloud, you sprang into a sitting position and patted yourself down frantically, finding that your body was completely insect-free, just incredibly drenched in fruity booze.

“They were right here!” You exclaimed in disbelief. With panicked eyes you looked up to meet two very concerned, and very bewildered, faces. “You have to believe me!”

They exchanged questioning glances, then returned their focus on you. Looks of pity crossed their faces as they watched you like you were the saddest part of a tragic movie.

A third shopkeeper was hunched over next to the guy you had pushed into the shelves, looping an arm around his neck to help him stand upright. The poor man groaned. It was the freckle-faced shopkeeper that had previously directed you to the wine section. Glass was poking out from his mop of curly hair and blood streamed down his arms and face, so much so that you couldn’t tell what was blood and what was freckle. He did look horrifying, like one of those performers from a haunted house, but definitely not covered in cockroaches.

Guilt flooded you as you took in his injured form, knowing you were the one responsible for his condition. Your eyes flicked between all of four of them, stumbling over words as you tried to process what just happened.

“I-I’m sorry... I... There were... I didn’t mean...I swear....” You skipped between sentences, the severity of the situation draping over you like a wet blanket.

From the front of the store you could hear the bell of the shop door opening. Quick footsteps were followed by the sounds of low voices conversing between one another--probably the red-haired guy and the police, you assumed--but you couldn’t make out the words that they were saying.

The footsteps grew louder as you sat there staring, mouth hanging open stupidly, not knowing what else to say, and then suddenly you felt yourself being lifted up off the ground by a pair of warm, jewelry-clad arms.

“No! Please! I didn’t mean to! Let me go!” You squirmed, but a gentle hand kept you in place.

“Calm down Y/N. You’re safe. I got you now.” The gentle voice of Hoseok ghosted your ears, and for the first time you were so happy to hear him speak.

“The cockroaches... I swear they were...What’s going on?” You sniveled, squeezing your eyes shut as you burrowed your face into his neck. He smelled sweet, like lavender.

“Not now.” His tone was soft, soothing. “Just rest.”

You felt a scorching heat encompass your body. It was like a fiery embrace that wrapped you up in a sense of security and caused your mind to lull. Muscles relaxing, you sank into the inviting warmth of Hoseok, letting all pent up exhaustion finally overtake you.

Then, the world went black.

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Next⤏

A/N

Sorry this one is a little short as well! I’m going to try and make the chapters longer from here on out!

Thank you to everyone who has commented, reblogged and liked my story so far! It means so much to me and keeps me inspired to keep writing this fiction! I really appreciate it!

And by the way, I go back and edit each chapter on a regular basis, so make sure to check in to those as well!

Cial

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts fic #bts jhope #bts jhope x reader #bts hoseok x reader #bts hobi #bts hoseok #hoseok #jhope fanfic #jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope #BTS jungkook #bts jung hoseok #jhope x y/n #hoseok x y/n #y/n #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #reader insert #reader x hoseok #bts reader x jhope #new writers on tumblr #new writers corner #hoseok fanfic #fanfic #fan fic writing #fan fiction

[fletchphoenix]

What I’ve Been Looking For

Hey Gamers! Here’s Chapter 8 of the Varigo Coffee Shop AU and I’m gonna be honest - I think this is my favourite chapter yet! It’s certainly the longest so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!! Thank you for your support and ON WITH THE CHAPTER!

Word Count - 4853

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A week had passed and it was finally Christmas - aka Hugo’s least favourite day of the year. Passing through his lips was a groan as he turned to his side on his bed, which was only a few bad days away from giving up on him completely. He felt around on the bedside table for his glasses, placing them on his face and laying back again, his head resting against the moss green pillows. Picking his phone up, he smiled at his phone screen - a photo of Varian at the library which was almost completely covered by the wall of text messages from said boyfriend. He let out a small sigh - his boyfriend absolutely adored Christmas, but...he didn’t get the appeal.

  At the orphanage, Christmas wasn’t really celebrated at all, it being far too expensive to buy presents for all the kids there. The only real indication he’d had that it was the streets being decorated by a ridiculous amount of lights, a giant pine tree placed in the centre of town with a mass of baubles scattered amongst the branches. Ever after he’d left, living on the streets for a while and after Donella took him in, she’d never been caring enough to celebrate the holiday. In her eyes, it was a ‘useless, excessively capitalised holiday used to manipulate the poor into spending a mass of money at one time’ and ‘a waste of money’. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree, the holiday was vastly overrated and had turned into a way to swindle money from the poor, manipulating the true meaning, but it wouldn’t hurt to get him a gift one year. It could’ve been a small one or something work-related, he wouldn’t have minded, but he never got one. 

  But that was the kind of woman Donella was, always cold and unfeeling towards everyone, including her son. Kind of. Did she even see him as her son? I mean-he’d always seen her as a mother to him, since she was the one to take him in, give him a home and a purpose...but that was because, in her eyes, he was a valuable asset. She’d only taken care of him, because she could get money from his skills. He knew that - she’d always been transparent about that fact with him - but there were plenty of instances where she’d contradicted herself. Where she’d actually cared. For example, when she’d brought him his jacket.

  She’d initially shoved it into his chest, wrapped in a plastic bag with her usual scowl and folded arms greeting him as his eyes met hers in confusion. Her grey hair was perfectly kept, behind her back in a braid which left the scar on her chin on full display as it jolted up towards her lip. She’d never told him how she’d got it, but he had his theories. One of his most outlandish scenarios was trying to trap her old research partner in a magical library, her partner using magic and a knife to scar the skin (11-year-old him had a wild imagination, okay?). Her sickly green eyes held annoyance in every last nook and cranny as she examined the boy in front of her’s confused expression at the package that was thrust towards his chest. “Well, aren’t you going to see what’s inside? I don’t have all day to be standing around waiting for you, Hugo.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He replied hastily, hands fumbling as he unwrapped the bag and took out the cargo. It was a green jacket, a grey hood at the top of it. He raised it to his eyes and tilted his head quietly. It was a little bit, but he’d grow into it. The second thing he’d noticed was that it was really, really soft, like..absolutely amazingly soft. Like fur! He pulled the jacket’s sleeves over his arms, noting how they covered his hands completely, before he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. It was comfy - a childish grin covering his face as he looked up at his mentor, grateful for his gift.

  “Your clothes looked ratty,” she said, looking away and trying to suppress her soft smile with a hardened expression. “I got you new ones. Maybe now you’ll look even slightly presentable.” she slowly walked away, Hugo knowing her true intentions behind the present. He let out a small yet happy sigh, his hand trailing through his hair as he walked down the hall towards his workshop again. He’d have to thank her later, he noted as he pushed open the door. He guessed that all the thanks he could give would be finishing off this commission they’d been working on for the past week...that would satisfy her more than a gift or hug or anything. He hung the jacket up on a peg, sitting down on the leather stool by his desk before leaning over and getting to work. 

  Hugo sat up in bed, finally deciding to get up on this cursed day and standing. He stretched his legs and arms, walking to his desk to give Olivia her daily helping of sunflower seeds, which the mouse graciously accepted with a happy squeak. He yawned and grabbed some clothes from the closet, heading down the hall towards the bathroom for a shower, passing framed photos of him, his boyfriend and their friends along the way. They all got along just fine - them being Hugo, Varian, Nuru and Yong, however him and Nuru did have the occasional sarcastic quip aimed at each other, much to Varian’s annoyance. Despite the playful banter though, they got along well considering the short amount of time they’d known each other, with Varian always taking pictures so Hugo would have to ‘frame his memories’ and place them on the wall. It was sweet, especially how he’d exclusively picked frames that were painted green - a nice little detail that didn’t go unnoticed by Hugo. Still, it felt strange. He thought Varian’s dad had grounded him, so why was he allowed out so frequently to meet up? The thought weighed heavy in his mind, although it disappeared as he arrived at his final destination.

  Varian sat up in his bed as soon as he’d woken up, a large smile on his face as he realised the day. “It's Christmas...It’s Christmas!” He yelled as he jumped up, startling the obese cat who was sleeping quite satisfied on his legs, curled up in a ball. The cat mewled and batted at Varian’s arms in response, the teen too excited to care as he threw open his door and sprinted down the stairs. He must’ve moved at the speed of sound, because he swore it only took him a few seconds to arrive in the kitchen, where his father stood preparing some hot chocolate and pancakes. He felt out of place in his teal pyjamas, but nonetheless he still took a seat at the table. “Good morning, Dad. Hey, that smells great!”

  “Good morning to you too, son. And thank you.” he replied, placing the pancakes on a plate, picking it up in one hand and the hot chocolate in the other before setting it in front of his son. Varian wasted no time, swallowing it all down so fast, Quirin could’ve sworn he’d just inhaled the things. Chuckling at the thought, he moved and sat down beside his son. “So, we’re stopping off at Rapunzel’s for Christmas dinner aren’t we?” A nod of confirmation came from his son, who was sipping his hot chocolate. “Okay, will we be picking up your boyfriend on the way?”

  Varian spat his hot chocolate out in shock at his father’s latter question. What? How did he know about Hugo? He’d never told him about the other boy before...maybe Rapunzel had told his father? No, she wouldn’t do that to him. Eugene? He scrapped that thought as soon as it came. Those two would never do that to him...would they? “No Varian. You need to trust them.” his inner voice reminded him. He composed himself as his eyes met his dad’s, who was quite obviously holding back his laughter. “I...how do you..know about him?”

  “Remember the night I grounded you? Last thursday? Yeah, that's how I know.” He explained nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair and sipping his hot chocolate quietly. “I went upstairs with the intent to apologise and saw you two fast asleep and cuddling. You both looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to intrude on your moment, so I left you be and wanted to wait until you were ready to tell me.” He suddenly leaned forward, taking his son’s hands in his own with a serious expression on his face. “Son, you know I love you no matter who you’re attracted to, whether it be boys or girls. You’re still my son and I love you unconditionally. So will your Aunt Adira and Uncle Hector. And we’ll support you no matter what. Although...it would have been nice to have a formal introduction with the boy, he seems very nice.”

  A smile crept onto Varian’s face as he rose to his feet, moving around the titular table to embrace his father. “Thank you so much, dad. And yes, we will have to pick him up. I want him to celebrate Christmas - it’ll be his first time celebrating too, which makes it even more special!” he paused. “I’ll let you know where his apartment is. I have a present that I...desperately wanna give him.”

  “Speaking of presents..” Quirin began, rising from his chair to look down at his son. “I haven’t given you yours yet. So, follow me.” He declared, leading the way towards the basement door. They hadn’t been down there since his mother left - it used to be her old workspace for anything science related. Varian used to love going down there and watching as Ulla would experiment, combining different elements in processes he didn’t even understand. Their son would watch in wonder as, with one ribbon of metal being added, an acid would change colour, and he’d cheer so loud with the biggest smile on his face whenever Ulla let him act as her ‘lab assistant’ and let him perform his own experiments (supervised, of course). 

  He did miss the woman and her presence in the house. She brought so much joy to everything she passed, making even the worst of days become one of the best. It was because of her that they even celebrated Christmas, her introducing the holiday to him and the various traditions that came along with it. She really was a loving and caring woman in every way there possibly was - Varian taking after her in that department. She’d sing to their son to help him sleep as a newborn and sit by his crib all night in case he woke up in the night and needed her for anything. But they never saw the stress wearing her down, causing her to become more and more confrontational as the days went on. Hell, the divorce came out of nowhere, Ulla one day stating that she wanted one and was leaving. Nonetheless, Quirin had supported her and let her go, because she was the woman he loved. If that’s what she wanted then fine, he’d let her leave. He bit the inside on his cheek. No time to think of that - it was Christmas and by god, he was gonna enjoy himself.

  The door to the basement opened and Quirin gestured for his son to go down the steps before him. Varian obliged, walking down the steps that threatened to break. They’d have to get them replaced one day, he thought as he reached the floor below and flicked on the lights. He was met with the sight of a truly magnificent sight. Tables were pushed up against the walls, a wheeled office chair placed under one. Beakers and a Bunsen burner sat on the side, beside a large stack of drawers that, upon closer inspection, were labelled and filled with all the equipment he needed, such as burets, test tubes, pipettes and micropipettes...it was simply breathtaking. He travelled further around the home lab, a coat peg in the corner with a single, white lab coat hanging from it. He immediately knew it was his mother’s from the small blue patch on the elbow of the left sleeve - a hole caused by 7-year-old him accidentally changing the Bunsen burner from the safety flame to the blue flame, his mom lunging over it to stop him from burning himself. After that, he was terrified of the burner for years after that. 

  “Dad, this is...this is amazing!” he gasped, running over and giving him a tight hug. “Wow! I love it so much!” he cried as he moved away and excitedly explored the room even more. Pulling on the lab coat, he flattened the creases of the lab coat. A perfect fit, he thought, before he turned to his dad with a smile. “How is it? Do I look alright?”

  “You look great son, but go upstairs and get dressed. We need to pick up your boyfriend and drive over to Rapunzel and Eugene’s house, okay?” He commented, watching his son’s excitement as he placed the lab coat back on the bed and sprinted upstairs. Quirin’s gaze drifted to the lab coat. He looked just like his mother in that lab coat, it was almost uncanny. He always thought about her this time of year and how much different life was without Ulla’s constant presence in the house. Nevermind,he muttered as he walked to the stairs, flicking off the lights and travelling up the stairs. It was in the past. Now, time to prepare himself to meet his son’s boyfriend.

  Hugo sat on the couch, his arms folded and pouting. There was nothing on but stupid goddamn Christmas movies! He hated them! All they did was brag that they had everything he didn’t have, like a family or gifts..it sucked. He especially hated them as a kid, wishing every year that he’d get adopted and have that one day. He’d always imagined his mom being a tall, gentle woman, who’d pick him up and put him on the counter if he’d fallen over while playing, placing a gentle kiss to his wounds before covering them with a bandaid, giving him a hug and sending him off to play. He’d also imagined his dad - a stern, blonde haired man with a soft side, who would always make time for him and show him what he did for work. They’d have good paying jobs too - his dad being a mechanic for some high-class company and his mom being a nurse. He’d had it all planned out. Especially Christmas, where he’d run down the stairs to be greeted with the sight of endless towers of presents, hugging and kissing his parents on the cheek after each one. Instead, he’d been ‘blessed’ with Donella, who couldn’t care less about him or Christmas. No parents, no luxury life, no Christmas. She snuffed out his dream on the final one really quick, being the one to tell him Santa wasn’t real (even though he already knew that, but the confirmation hurt).

  He was so lost in thought that he almost missed the sound of frantic knocking at the door to his apartment. “Who the hell is that?” he muttered under his breath as he sauntered down the hall. He ran his hands over his clothes, trying to flatten any creases that might be seen before opening the door. Varian stood, his hand raised as though he was about to knock the door again, with a goliath of a man behind him, causing Hugo to swallow thickly. Oh fuck was that man large. He could probably snap Hugo in half over his knee if he felt like it. ‘Please don’t call him dad, please don’t call him dad…’ Hugo found himself praying.

  “Hugh!” his boyfriend cried as he lunged forward and wrapped his arms round the blonde’s neck, who was still in shock at the sight of the man accompanying the titular teen. “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Hugo! Hugo, this is my dad!” he explained. Brilliant. Now he knew if he ever broke up with Varian (“Pfft, as if that’s gonna happen.” his inner voice reminded him, yet again butting in rudely.), he’d be assured a quick death at the hands of this titan of a man crushing his skull.

  “It's a uh-a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” he finally stuttered out, trying to uphold his usual relaxed attitude, however judging by the crack in his voice, he’d failed miserably. He held out his hand, the older man exchanging his greeting and virtually concealing Hugo’s hand in his own, it being barely visible as it was shaken before being mercifully let go. “Why are you two here, by the way. In like-the politest way possible.”

  “You’re spending Christmas with us! Speaking of which, we’re meant to be at my sister’s like-right now! So! Let’s go!” he grabbed his boyfriend’s arm, only giving him enough time to grasp his coat, which had Varian’s present concealed in it, and scarf before pulling him out of the apartment and down the stairwell to the street below. Hugo listened to Varian’s rambling about their christmas traditions which didn’t seem to stop even as they got to the car and were heading towards Rapunzel and Fitzherbert’s house. Speaking of which, he’d never seen it, the only conversation he’d had with them being the...rather awkward one the day he’d asked Varian out. What a wild day that had been...it felt like forever ago, if he was being honest. It didn’t seem real that they were together at all. He gave the raven haired boy’s hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of his hand with a smile tugging at his lips again. He really was helpless for this boy.

  The car came to a halt outside a small cottage, very different to the one he had imagined the couple would live in. It was a surprise, albeit a pleasant one - what, a cottage out here in the middle of the countryside seemed like the best place to settle down. He just couldn’t believe someone like Fitzherbert would’ve settled for that. It admittedly looked kind of cute though, lights hung from the roof carefully and around the gate. Varian, however, gave him no time to admire the beauty of the cottage, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the white-painted fence and rushing up the steps before opening the front door. “We’re here, guys!” he declared and almost immediately they were swarmed by a mass of people.

  The only four people he’d noticed were Rapunzel, Eugene, Cassandra and Irene, pulling them into hugs and exchanging Christmas greetings with each other. The other three he’d recognised as Kiera, Catalina and Lance from all of the stories Varian would tell him randomly during their dates, such as how Lance had adopted them after they were orphaned (“Lucky kids.” Hugo had muttered to himself bitterly before turning away and staring out the window again). Hugo winced and grimaced at the exchanges, awkwardly returning them before heading towards where he thought the living room was. 

  Luckily, he was right, and he moved quickly to sit on the couch, immediately cringing at the sight of an excessively decorated and obviously fake Christmas tree sitting against the wall with a mass of presents underneath it. More reminders of the things he’d lacked all his life, he thought bitterly, before a warmth beside him broke him out of his thoughts. Varian cuddled into his boyfriend’s side, kissing his cheek gently with a soft, loving smile on his face. “Hey there, sweetheart..you enjoying yourself?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

  “Yeah, definitely. Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it.” he lied over his teeth, praying his boyfriend didn’t notice his discomfort. It must’ve been his lucky day as, other than a concerned noise, Varian seemed to take this answer as gospel and just cuddled into his side further. Hugo thrived in their moment of peace amongst the madness of Christmas, almost like the week before where they sat in the park at almost midnight just cuddling on the park bench. This only lasted a moment, however, as Rapunzel called them all in for dinner as she placed various dishes onto the table. 

  Everyone crowded around it, Varian holding Hugo’s hand under the table as they sat side by side (the fact that Varian was left handed helped tremendously, considering Hugo was right handed and both could hold each other’s less dominant hand) with a shy smile on his face as he, once again, answered the numerous questions on how they met. All the while, Hugo sat uncomfortably. It was all too much for him - the family, the food, the absolute love...he couldn’t take him. “Give me a minute.” he muttered as he let go of Varian’s hand, standing up and excusing himself. Hurriedly, he left the room and sat outside on the steps up to the house. 

  He didn’t get it. How did he deserve any of this? He was a bad person and didn’t see how someone like Varian could look at him and think that he warranted any of this. He was a thief and a liar and messed up everything good in his life. Varian would realise that one day and leave him, just like everyone else in his life did. He didn’t want to admit it but..he knew he wasn’t good enough for someone like Varian. Someone so sweet despite everything he did in his past - someone so forgiving...he didn’t deserve that. The door opened behind him, quickly shutting before footsteps stopped beside him and none other than Fitzherbert sat down beside him. “What. You come to laugh at me or something?”

  “Nope. I don’t know why you’d think that.” Fitzherbert commented, looking at the troubled teen and sighing, seeing himself in the boy. He took a deep breath and looked directly ahead as he continued to talk. “I know how you’re feeling. I was an orphan too. You feel as though you don’t belong - like you don’t deserve any of this and you never will. But you do, Hugo. I know I don’t really know you that well, but I’ve been in your boat before and I know Varian well enough to know he adores you. Varian thinks the world of you and looks as though you put the stars in the sky. I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings - you deserve to feel however you want and that's okay, but you need to know that we all care about you so much and...for the record, Rapunzel was really excited to meet you again. Just letting you know, she literally texted Varian asking everything about you like your favourite flavours, colors..hell, even smells!” He let out a laugh, and so did Hugo, albeit a little weak. “You don’t have to come back in..but you can if you want.”

  Hugo bit the inside of his cheek before leaning and resting his head on Eugene’s arm, letting the older man put his arm around him before bringing him into a long embrace. One that he didn’t know he needed, especially from someone like Eugene. He let out a breathy chuckle before standing up with Eugene, making their way inside and sitting beside his boyfriend again. Varian gave him a concerned look, Hugo nodding in reassurance and raising his boyfriend’s hand to his lips, kissing the back of his hand before they smiled and continued to eat.

  As soon as dinner was over, Hugo found himself sitting down beside Varian on the couch yet again as the others exchanged presents. Eugene had got Rapunzel a purple frying pan (he didn’t question why, the woman seemed eccentric enough to adore the gift, gifting her boyfriend with a mass of kisses), Rapunzel bought Eugene a small ring to match her engagement ring, Irene gave Cassandra a leather jacket and Cassandra gave Irene a pink helmet to wear on the motorbike, Lance got the girls MANY presents that Hugo didn’t have the energy to remember. And that left him and Varian to exchange gifts.

  Carefully they both took out their boxes for each other, trading them and opening them at the same time. Both gasped when they saw they’d both bought each other a pair of goggles! Hugo gazed at the goggles Varian had bought for him. They were circular - big enough to fit over his glasses - with orange lenses and spikes around the rim, being painted grey all over. A leather strap connected them at the back, him placing them round his neck. Varian, on the other hand, stared at his in disbelief. A small, extra magnifier was attached to the left eye of the goggles, the rims painted bronze and gold with clear, colourless lenses. They were perfect, he silently decided, leaning in closer to Hugo to place a gentle kiss to his jaw.

  “These are perfect, Hugo..I..thank you so much!” he said with love and affection dripping through his words as he put the goggles on top of his head, his hands drifting to the vial around his neck and fiddling with it. It illuminated, shining a soft light across his chest and hands as he gazed down at it in wonder. He looked up at the blonde again, who looked at him with the utmost affection and a dorkish smile on his face. “Anyway, we should be heading back. It’s kinda late and I need my beauty sleep!” he joked, standing and pulling Hugo and Quirin along with him. They bid their farewells, Rapunzel extremely reluctant to let Hugo leave as she hadn’t learnt absolutely everything about him, but she let them leave after a while. They all got into the car and drove back towards Hugo’s apartment complex.

  After Hugo left the car, Varian walked beside him hand in hand up to his apartment. “Hey, look at this.” Varian said as they got to the door, bringing a piece of branch out of his pocket and raising it above his head. He raised an eyebrow in confusion, looking down at his boyfriend who quickly elaborated. “It’s mistletoe so you have to kiss me!” he declared, raising himself onto his tiptoes and puckering his lips. His eyes shut and Hugo’s face took on a grin, leaning down to kiss the boy in a long, sweet kiss, pouring every bit of affection they had for each other into it. 

  The kiss eventually broke and Varian headed down the hall and away from Hugo for the night, the blonde sighing. He pushed open the door, however it stopped part way due to a weight in front of the door. “Huh? Weird.” he muttered, sliding in through the thin gap between the door as his eyes met a package at the door. It was green and moderately large and, after Hugo had kicked the door shut, he crouched down and reached out to read the tag on the box. 

  ‘Merry Christmas - Donella’

  Huh. That was weird. Donella ACTUALLY getting him a Christmas gift? That was unheard of in his world up until now, but he still picked it up and carried it into the living room before placing it on the glass coffee table. He slowly untied the bow and raised the lid, noticing what was inside the box. It was a new laptop - one he had been working to try and get for months now. He didn’t think she’d actually listened to him when he talked to her about it. “Well, that’s a welcome surprise.” he whispered under his breath, lifting it out to see something else tucked at the bottom of the box. Setting the laptop aside, he raised it to see another jacket - this one he immediately recognised. She’d worn it all the time when he was younger and he’d always loved it, but now..she was actually giving it to him. 

  This one was a dark green with a few gold and grey accents across it, the crest of her company embroidered onto the arm only as big as his thumb. He smiled happily, his fingers tracing over the material as he carried both the laptop and the jacket upstairs to his room. He’d always loved the jacket, and usually Donella was overly possessive about her property, so the fact that she was willingly giving it up for him...it was a large statement for a woman like her. 

  He pushed open the door and placed the two items onto his desk, changing into his pyjamas and laying down on his bed. He took off his glasses and set them aside onto his bedside table, moving to hug his pillow close to his chest and imagining it was his boyfriend. He’d have to thank them both for their gifts when he had the time.

  “Y’know...maybe Christmas isn’t so bad after all.” he whispered to himself before letting himself fall asleep, a smile still plastered on his face.

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