#(now to do the reply i owe and anything else that appeals)

[familiaanteomnia]

sometimes good video games are the unhinged ones

[rebelliousstories]

The Other Hexenbiest

Relationship: Sean Renard x Reader, (past) Sean Renard x Adalind Schade

Fandom: Grimm

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Strong Language, Mentions of Fertility and Fertility Issues

Word Count: 1,896

Main Masterlist: Here

Grimm Masterlist: Here

Summary: Adalind has come back into the storyline yet again. But what happens when she finds out that her favorite zauberbiest no longer is interested?

Soon he was so in love with the witch’s daughter that he could think of nothing else. He lived by the light of her eyes and gladly did whatever she asked.

“Hello Sean.” That was a voice he never wanted to hear again, not after all she had done.

“Adalind. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He kept an eye on the door to his office in the precinct.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m planning a trip home. Feel like revisiting past acquaintances.” She droned on, trying to make her voice sound innocent and appealing.

“The last thing I want is to see you right now. Enjoy your visit home.” With that, Sean hung up the phone. He let out a deep breath and leaned back in his chair while trying to think of the reason the woman would call. That was until he was interrupted by Nick coming into his office.

“Captain, we got a case.” Behind Burkhardt was Griffin with a case file and a worried look.

“Bring it in.”

~

Meanwhile, across town, a woman was making her way into the exotic spice and tea shop that was in the heart of Portland. In her hands was a list, and a smile on her face. It had taken a long time to get to where she was, but she was happy. In a happy place, with a happy relationship, and a good reputation. Walking in, she was met with a Fuchsbau behind the counter.

“Welcome in. Something I can help you with?” The woman was cheerful, which only put the woman in a better mood.

“Yes actually. You wouldn’t happen to have these ingredients would you? I need them for something special for my lover.” She explained, handing over the list to the Fuchsbau behind the counter. Scanning the list, the other woman looked to her with a mischievous tint to her eyes.

“This is for a fertility spell, right?” The Fuchsbau’s question was answered with a definitive nod.

“Yes. My husband and I are having some issues. We’re hoping it’s nothing, but figured we would give it a try as it’s an easier spell.” She replied, feeling nervous about coming in. However she was put at ease when the woman across the counter stuck out her hand.

“I’m Rosalee.” Shaking her hand, the woman supplied her own name.

“Feel free to look around the shop while I get these ingredients for you.” Rosalee flitted around said shop and collected different spices and herbs. The woman walked around at a leisurely pace as she tried to stay out of the Fuchsbau’s way. Her eyes scanned over all the different jars, and felt like a kid in a candy store. This was definitely going to be her new go to shop. The shrill ringing of her phone broke her from her daze, and she reached into her pocket to only be met with her lovely husband’s photo from their wedding day.

“Sean, hello dear.” She breathed, feeling relief at hearing his voice.

“Hello darling. I was just letting you know that I am leaving the precinct now and I’ll be home shortly. Where are you?” He asked, moving some things around on his desk which she could hear.

“I’m just grabbing some ingredients. I’ll be home soon. Maybe even before you,” came her tease. Her husband chuckled over the other end of the line.

“I would appreciate that with the day I have had. What do you say to Italian for dinner?” Renard opened the car door and dropped himself down into his seat.

“As long as we can have dessert at the cupcake shop across the road.” His wife responded, leaning against the counter and choosing to ignore the Fuchsbau’s coy looks sent her way.

“Anything you want, darling.” Sean confirmed, relaxing into the car seat.

“Okay. Well, I’m almost done at the shop. I’ll be on my way home soon to get ready.” Digging around in her jacket, the woman found her wallet and waited while Rosalee bagged up everything she requested.

“I will see you at home, darling. I love you.” His comforting words caused a smile to pop up on the woman’s face.

“Love you too, dear.” They said their goodbyes and hung up the phone to be stored away. She knew that she had a dopey lovesick smile on her face, but she just could not help it.

“Alright. What’s my damage?” She asked the Fuchsbau, opening her wallet to retrieve her money.

~

Sean made it to the condo and happily walked inside his home. He noticed that there was an extra pair of shoes by the front door, one he did not recognize, and immediately drew his firearm. Clearing the foyer, he made is way to clear the living room and kitchen. Both of them were good, so he moved on to his bedroom. When he got there, Renard let out a deep sigh and holstered his weapon.

“Careful Sean. People could get here with that thing.” Adalind teased, sitting with her legs draped over one another on his bed. The bed he shared with his wife.

“What are you doing here Adalind?” He snipped, feeling on edge and cautious about what she was up to.

“Can’t a girl just want to catch up with an old friend? Remember how many memories we made right here?” She trailed a hand over the silken sheets that she was sitting atop.

“I don’t particularly care to remember.” Sean was losing his patience with this Hexenbiest.

“Oh don’t be like that Sean. And don’t think I haven’t noticed it.” Adalind leveled a bored glare at the man standing in front of her. His face was neutral, but she only took that as confused silence.

“The other Hexenbiest that is here. Who is she?” Her tone was clipped, feeling anger and jealousy boil to the surface.

“None of your business.” Sean replied quickly, but Adalind just stood to her feet and made her way to him. She dragged her hands over his chest, and played with his tie as she gazed up at him with her best doe eyes.

“Oh, but it is my business,” her hands parted ways. One stayed on his chest, pulling the tie from its place and messing with his shirt buttons. While the other one trailed up to his face and tickled her nails over his skin. “So who is she?”

“My wife. Happy?” Sean studied the blonde woman’s face, which went from jealous, to fury, to faux happiness.

“So glad to hear you could find your true love. But, let’s be honest, I was the original blueprint that she knocked off. You always were predictable in bedmate choices, Sean.” Adalind dropped her voice down at the end. The sound of the door opening drew both of their attentions away from one another.

“Sean? Dear, are you home?” He heard his wife call out. Footsteps grew closer to the bedroom as she looked through the condo.

“You need to leave.” Sean growled at the Hexenbiest in front of him, but she only grew a wide Cheshire Cat smile in return.

“Dearest, are you here? I saw your car in your spot and figured-”

The sight the greeted her was not a welcomed one. On her bed, was Sean. Except he was on top of a beautiful blonde in full lip lock on their bed. Broken out of his trance, Sean tried to push himself up off of the bed. He was not even sure how he got there in the fast of a time frame.

“Darling, don’t. Please. Just wait a second.” But it was too late. She was his messed up tie and shirt, and her lipgloss on his lips. The blonde sat up in the bed, and looked at home there. However Mrs. Renard was looking back and forth between both the woman and her husband.

“What is wrong with you, Sean?” She whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. As much as she tried to push the man away, her husband kept overpowering her and grabbing her hands.

“It’s not what you think. That’s what Adalind wants you to think.” When he said the Hexenbiest’s name, she paused.

“That’s Adalind?” She whimpered, looking over to the blonde who just looked bored. Once the sadness left, all that was rage. Without her will, her woge came fully to the surface. The deformity of her face shocked Adalind. It looked as if it was starting to reverse as it was not as severe as a Hexenbiest of her age should have been.

“Oh, I see. Taking pity on a Hexenbiest who doesn’t even use her magic the way she is supposed to.” Adalind smirked, her voice dropping down and venomous.

“Get out of my house.” The woged woman growled. It only resulted in Adalind producing a woge as well; she was challenging a Hexenbiest in her own territory, and that took guts. But Mrs. Renard was not one to be pushed around so easily. Getting in the blonde’s face, she continued to assert dominance over her dominion. Adalind conceded, and receded back into herself. The other woman followed suit, and leveled a glare at the woman who only held a playful smirk.

“Good seeing you, Sean. Come see me when you get tired of the fake Hexenbiest.” She took one last look up and down at the man, before she left out the front door. Once they heard the door close, the woman collapsed right as Sean wrapped his arms around her.

“Come here,” he cooed as she sobbed. “You’re okay. It’s okay. I’m so sorry you had to see that. I love you so much.”

Her cries wracked her body as they continued. All the frustration, confusion, and upset that she had felt in the last few minutes, and all of the feelings in between came rushing out. Through out it all, her husband held her close in a tight embrace. Sean kept his arms around her as a ring of strength which she clung to like a raft when lost at sea. As her sobs died down, the Renard’s stayed locked in their embrace through the rough time.

“You’re okay. We’re okay. I love you, darling.” Sean’s deep voice resonated through her sniffles. It took a minute, but eventually her cries did die down enough to communicate with her husband.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what is wrong with me.” She whispered, burrowing in to her husband’s chest.

“No need to apologize. I should be the one apologizing.” He pressed a kiss to her head, and pulled away to look at her face. Wiping away her tears, she smiled as she looked at his face.

“Are you alright?” Sean asked his wife, running a hand over her hair to smooth it.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” her finger trailed over the makeup that was left over his lips. “If I see some other hexen-bitch kiss you, I may have to go back on my oath.”

“Oh so is it just another Hexenbiest or just another woman you have a problem with?” Sean teased, happily accepting his wife wiping the gloss off of him. She launched herself into his arms and planted her lips on his in an eager kiss. One that ensured that Sean remembered just which Hexenbiest he belonged to.

[crackedpumpkin]

1. GO TO SLEEP I SEE YOU 👁️

2. remember how i said i was gonna request… i forgot and finished my crochet. its a bag now, my brain was too big for the “beanie”

3. THE REQUEST. ITS PINNED IN OUT DMS BUT I’LL COPY PASTE IT HERE AS INSPO AND REFERENCE

y/n knows the guys and casey made a bet that he could get a partner faster then raph (pre mona) and hes (casey) is like ‘fake date me to win a bet, i’ll split the money with you’ but raph made the bet so casey could (FINALLY) get with y/n

and then you added something but i’ll leave that for you to write in, IF IT IS THE PATH YOU CHOOSE TO TRED DOWN.

ok well, thanks, rhonda says goodnight, I SAY GOODNIGHT.

NOW GO TO SLEEP >:(

a/n: Stinky boi for a stinky bitch /jk /love you

also, the way i legit went to bed after seeing No.1 LMAO <333 Also, I've already said this but I'm incredibly proud of you for finishing the pouch :DDDDD it looks gorgeous, sweaty <3

|| ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ʙᴇᴛ || 2ᴋ12! ᴄᴀꜱᴇʏ ᴊᴏɴᴇꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

[ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“How you doin', sweetheart?” 

You turn with a roll of your eyes, already fed up with the familiar voice of Casey Jones constantly teasing you. If not for the slight glimmer of affection you felt for him, you’d have pummelled him to the ground by now.

The cocky boy leans against your locker with a casual grin, holding his hockey stick in one hand while the other props him up. You raise a brow, leaning against the cold metal of your locker door. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask sarcastically, scanning his usual bruised arms and scattered bandaids that litter his face. He clears his throat, eyes darting around to see if anyone else is close enough to hear.

“So, you know that bet Raph and I made a while back?” 

“Uh huh,” You reply dubiously, already not liking how this conversation is going. Casey nibbles on his bottom lip in thought, conflicting emotions on his face as he decides whether or not to tell you what’s on his mind.

“Spit it out, Jones.” You sigh, crossing your arms.

“Well, I was thinking. It’s kinda reaching the end of the deadline for that bet, and maybe we could, like, fake date or something? Just to get the money from Raph. I’ll split it with you, of course!” He offers.

You’re taken aback, eyes wide as you slam shut your locker door. “What?” The disbelief in your voice is apparent, the forceful shut of your locker door causing the others next to it to rattle. Casey loses his balance, almost falling if not steadying himself in time. 

“Wait, y/n! I’m serious!” He cries out, grabbing your wrist tightly. You flinch, ripping it out of his grasp with a doubtful stare. He begins walking alongside you, trying his best to convince you with honey-coated words.

“Look, it’s a serious amount of money. He bet fifty bucks! Imagine the looks on their faces when we show up together. Raph would freak!” He points out, noticing the ghost of a smile on your lips. He tries harder, knowing that you’d fall for his bait. Hook, line, and sinker.

“Plus, you could get back at them for making fun of that date.”

You pause, your footsteps slowing to a halt. That did sound rather appealing. Besides, what could go wrong? It’s just a fake relationship, and you’d score an easy twenty-five bucks on the side. 

You sigh, shoulders sagging in defeat as you nod with a weary smile. “Fine.”

— — — — — — — — —

“Okay, we gotta make this believable.” 

You eye his hand with thinly veiled reluctance, only to accept it and walk into the lair with your best lovey-dovey act. Casey all but drags you to Raph, and you can barely disguise your eye roll as batting your lashes at your fake boyfriend. 

Could this boy be any more obvious?

Raph lets out a low whistle when he spots your entwined hands. You look straight at him with a confident gaze, raising a brow as you silently challenge him to say anything.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, closing his comic book. 

“When did this- How did this- Don’t you two hate each other??” Donnie gestures to your linked hands with a baffled expression. Maybe he’s just seeing things. He rubs his eyes, blinking rapidly as he processes that what he sees is real.

Okay, so maybe he’s not seeing things.

Even still, this is you and Casey. The both of you that’re constantly at each other’s throats fighting every other day, while the days you don’t are thin ice. 

“I don’t believe you.” Leo crosses his arms with a smug smile, waiting for the both of you to admit that it’s all just a prank.

“I dunno, guys, sweetheart and I here are tight! She asked me out first, too.” Casey tugs you closer with your linked hands, his free hand propped on his hip as if daring them to challenge his clearly believable story. 

“Then prove it. Kiss her, or are you two, not a couple? As in, a couple of liars.” Raph snickers, Mikey chuckling at the pun.

You’re taken aback by Raph’s taunt, eyes darting between Jones and Raph. Your hand starts to grow clammy, and you want to rip it away from Casey’s gentle grip. However, his fingers squeeze your hand in an assured gesture as if he’s saying, It’s Okay.

“Well, get ready to eat your words.”

“Wait-”

Before you can finish your protest, Casey’s lips are on yours. They move against your frozen ones with such tenderness, and you’re too stunned to speak. However, your wide eyes slowly close the longer he kisses you, his fingers threading through your hair and leaving a trail of fire across the skin of your neck. 

Your eyes slowly slide shut, starting to kiss back though every fibre in your being screams otherwise. Your hands are on his shoulders, moving closer and linking them behind his neck. 

Casey's lips are warm, tugged up into that cocky smile of his you hate so desperately. You hate how you knew every trace of his skin, his stupid face seared into your memory. Even now, he’s probably not taking this seriously.

He’s so annoying, you think, automatically frowning slightly as he pulls away. You’re panting softly, watching his glazed eyes struggle to register your pink lips. You bite down on your bottom lip, your gaze flickering from his dazed eyes down to his lips.

It’s almost instinct, the way you tug him back in for another kiss with a renewed ferocity that rivals your hatred for the overconfident, carefree boy. He’s surprised, words dying in his chest as you squeeze your eyes shut. He can’t help but smile at your cute bravery, holding you a little closer than before.

Maybe a little longer, too.

Whoops and cheers snap you out of whatever had possessed you, pulling away with hazy eyes and flushed cheeks. You’re breathless, lips swollen before your cheeks bloom with a bright red that rivals Raph’s mask, realizing that you have essentially just made out with your fake boyfriend in front of a crowd. 

Leo has his hands over his eyes, Donnie shielding his and Mikey’s vision from being permanently scarred. On the other hand, Raph eyes you both with an equally disgusted yet impressed gaze. If he had caught on to Casey’s and your ruse, he certainly didn’t show it.

He pulls out a fifty from the pages of his comic book, handing it to Casey, who accepts with a smirk, your eyes automatically following his plump lips from when you had practically sucked each other’s faces off. 

You’re mortified.

You all but rip your hand out of Casey’s, clearing your throat and rubbing your arms. “I gotta go study at home,” You lie, plastering a fake smile on your face. Raph just shrugs, everyone else groaning and encouraging you to leave. 

Casey watches you go with a hint of forlorn in his eyes and heads to the dojo, only to be stopped by Raph’s hand on his chest. “Go after her, stupid.” The turtle scoffs, pushing Casey toward the direction that you’ve just left.

“Wha-”

“You’re a bad actor. And so is she. The kiss wasn’t fake, dummy. I know that much. Now go, and since I’m so nice, I’ll let you keep the fifty for your first date.” 

Casey glances down at the fifty dollar note in his hands, crumpling it and pressing it against Raph’s plastron before turning and running in the direction you’ve just left in.

It’s a while before you hear the footsteps splashing in the cold tunnels, hesitating. You turn your head to see Casey approaching you, heart doing a funny flip in your chest. You grit your teeth, shaking your head. 

No. This isn’t happening. This definitely isn’t happening.

“It was just a bet, Casey.”

“Yeah, I-I mean, no! Not anymore…” He rubs the back of his neck, barely able to look you in the eyes. 

“That’s all it was,” You deny, stepping back from him. He takes another step forward, the both of you caught in a cat-and-mouse game with him gradually cornering you. Your back hits the wall, breath hitching in your chest when he’s right in front of you. 

You can’t look up; you don’t dare meet his gaze. Your hair falls around you, acting as a shield for you to hide behind. However, coarse fingers cup your chin, lifting it up so that you’re now looking straight at him. 

Your cheeks are dusted with pink, eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

Casey wants to kiss you again. Instead, he takes a deep breath, his voice low as he admits what’s on his mind.

“It’s not a bet anymore.

Not to me.”

[hanktalkin]

Hey there. You got any tips for writing Pyro and/or Soldier, specifically?

I'm so angry I typed out a whole reply to this 2 days ago and apparently when I hit post now it did absolutely nothing. So I guess I'm doing this over again.

Soldier

I'll start with Soldier, he's a bit easier. A good template for his speaking pattern is this: [Military/Machismo declaration] [Follow up statement more calmly that elaborates on his line of thinking] [exclamatory, something like "oorah."] If you need him to speak for longer than three sentences, you can take that basic setup and mix up the order, try to read what you've written back in his voice to see if it fits. Here's an example.

“Soldier!” Demo called, splashing in his direction. “What happened, lad?”

“I have been ambushed!” Soldier roared. “I was accosted by ephemeral coldness, inimical dread, and then something touched my leg!!”

“Did it bite you or something?”

Soldier paused. “…Negatory. It appears I have just shot myself in the foot.” He looked down. “…Ow.”

New TF2 writer trap is putting Soldier in ALL CAPS ALL THE TIME which it's not like that's not an aspect of his character, but Soldier can swing back and forth between that pretty easily. He'll warmly greet his teammates, call Scout "son" (even though they don't otherwise get along with each other) while still remaining hotheaded. Plotwise, you can have Soldier do almost anything. He's very persuadable. Even if you want him to do something that goes against his nature (non-violent methods, waiting/being patient) all you have to do is have another character explain it in a way that appeals to him morals (America, the abstract concept of freedom, "a good fight").

Pyro

Pyro is the most difficult merc to write due to having the least established canon personality. Most people struggle (myself included) because their singular consistent trait is liking fire, so fire ends up coming up in every other sentence. But then, if you go the whole fic without mentioning fire, is that even really still Pyro? Or have you spent so much time filling in the gaps Valve left, that that's now basically your OC?

There's one strategy to use: treat Pyromania like the way you'd treat the "family oriented" trait. If you have a Family Oriented character, and they're asked the question "do you want to move to another city?", their first thought will be how will that affect my kids? Pyro's first consideration will be can I continue doing arson there? It's not the only thing, but it's their main driving force, part of their backstory, the thing that jumps to their when evaluating things in relation to themself. Other considerations can come later. Pyro is shown to have other interests, such as

rainbows, candy, balloons/plushies, cute things in general

art (if you're including EotL canon)

being good with kids, liking babies

an understanding of engineering and business, even if it's something they're not truly passionate about

Pyro spends time when not actively burning things being generally chill. Stargazing, listening to stories, content to do their own thing.

There are two main ways to write their dialogue.

In game, they're very verbose, saying full sentences even if those sentences aren't understood.

When Pyro is the POV char: "Maybe we should go ask Medic?" (italics to indicate muffled)

When the fic is from anyone else's POV: "Mrdda hrm mphud hudda?"

2. In the comics, they're almost entirely silent. Most of what they say is inferred by other characters.

"Mph?" Pyro asked. "We can't go ask Medic," Scout replied. "He already left."

Hope this helps! These are more general/technical aspects, if you'd like advice on what they'd do in specific scenarios, let me know, and I can give more character interpretations for each of them.

[fan-fantasies]

Stolen Goods

A/N: dedicated to breezy for being my best friend and putting up with my bullshit since we were 5 years old ❤️ I’m absolutely in love with this piece and I hope you guys love it to! Part two is already written so just let me know when you guys want it 😏

Pairing: Eddie x reader

Warnings: 80s version of nudes, fingering, swearing, tension out the ass

Summary: You take a liking to your friend’s weird friend. Even more so you take a liking to teasing him.

Part two

“Please come! All you have to do is sit there!” Your best friend pleaded with you.

“I highly doubt that,” you scoffed.

(y/n), pleaseeeeee. I’ll owe you big time,” Bri said.

“Ugh, fine. But you do owe me!”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She screamed as she pulled you into a hug.

You had just agreed to sit in as a sub at her DnD club meeting or campaign, whatever she called it.

You would consider yourself a nerd, just not the type to play that game. You could often be found in the library studying or in a comic book store, which is initially how you became friends with Bri.

She had tried to convert you into her satanic club, just kidding of course, but the game confused you and you had no patience to learn.

She really enjoyed being in the Hellfire Club and you were glad it made her happy. She talked so highly of the guys in it and even said you’d probably take a liking to the leader, Eddie. You’d seen him around school, and heard him of course, but you never understood why she thought you’d like him. You didn’t have a problem with him like everyone else seemed to but you also didn’t understand why he thought so highly of himself either. Maybe that was it- his “better than the bullshit” attitude.

You didn’t think anyone was better than anyone else or above the bullshit. It was high school- it was all bullshit.

The day went by rather quickly and you soon found yourself standing outside the theater room with Bri.

“You ready?” She asked. You thought for a moment before turning on your heel and walking away. But Bri was quick and grabbed your arm, dragging you into the room.

“Hey Bri. Who’s your weird friend?” Eddie asked.

“I’m the weird friend? That’s rich coming from you,” you scoffed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Use your big-boy brain and figure it out,” you replied. Bri just shook her head and sighed.

“I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea,” she mumbled to herself. The rest of the guys were just staring between you and Eddie, scared to say anything.

“Sit down. You’re a level one princess,” Eddie smirked.

“And you’re a five star douche. What’s that have to do with anything?” You shot back.

You could tell Eddie was getting frustrated which made you happy. He had no reason to judge you right off the bat so you decided to piss him off as much as possible.

“Please, for the love of gods, just sit down!” Bri whispered to you.

“I’m so glad I tagged along. I’m already having so much fun,” you told her. She just groaned and sat you down in a chair behind her. You smirked at Eddie who was giving you a death stare.

You mostly just watched the game, having to roll the dice a few times. You still didn’t understand it but you could see the appeal. The biggest thing that caught you by surprise was just how passionate Eddie was about the game, and just how attractive you found him as the dungeon master. You’d never admit that to anyone, of course, but now you could see why Bri thought you might like him.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Dustin screamed.

“Language, young man,” you scolded jokingly.

“(Y/N), you’re our last hope. You have to roll a nat 20 or else we lose,” Mike told you.

“That should be easy. Just have to roll for one singular number. On a twenty sided die!” You yelled. Eddie chuckled from across the board.

“I look forward to your defeat, m’lady,” he said.

“I look forward to you shutting the fuck up,” you mumbled.

“Language!” Dustin yelled.

“Bite me.”

“Gladly,” he purred. You just laughed and told him to blow on the die. Everyone watched with intensity as you threw the die down the table.

“Yes!!! We won!!” They all screamed. They hugged you happily as Eddie finished out his dramatic scene.

“Not too shabby for a level one,” he said, coming over afterward. “Maybe you should bring your weird friend more often, Bri.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Munson?” You asked sarcastically. He leaned on the table and dipped his head closer to yours.

“Yeah, I just might.”

His warm breath against your skin made goosebumps break out all over your body. You couldn’t hide the shiver that ran through you.

“Do you wanna head out?” Bri asked. You just nodded as Eddie looked at you wish a wolfish grin.

•the next day•

“Hey, princess,” Eddie said, slinging an arm around you in the lunch line. “Come join us.”

“No thanks. I eat in the library,” you said.

“Nope, not today. Today you feast with Hellfire,” he said dramatically.

He pulled you over to the table and Bri looked confused. You went to sit next to her but Eddie stopped you.

“Nope, you sit beside the smartest, toughest, and coolest master-“

“Masturbator, got it,” you said, sitting next to his seat. Dustin spewed milk from his nose and Jeff choked on a piece of chicken. Bri just laid her head onto her hands and sighed.

“Fucking kill me now.”

Eddie scowled at you but still took his rightful seat at the head of the table. You fell into easy conversation with the group and you actually found yourself enjoying it. Eddie waited until you had a mouthful of soda to lean over and whisper in your ear, quiet enough so only you would hear.

“So you think about me masturbating?”

You spit your drink out all over the table and down your shirt.

“Fuck!”

“You okay?” Bri asked. You dabbed are the stain setting into your top and tried to clean the table in front of you.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Eddie, may I have a word outside?”

“Anything for you, m’lady,” he said with a smirk.

You drug him from the cafeteria to an empty classroom down the hall. You pushed him inside and closed the door, shutting the blind of the window.

“I didn’t take you as a girl who spit,” he laughed. You turned around and glared at him.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Excuse me?”

“Are we doing this or what? Take your shirt off,” you said, pulling at the hem of your own top, lifting it enough to show him some skin.

“Oh shit. Fuck. Um, yeah, we can do this. Shit.” He fumbled to get his jacket off but he did and then off came his hellfire shirt. His torso was littered with tattoos and you took a second to admire him.

“Even better than I imagined,” you said.

“Your turn, baby,” he said, taking a step toward you. You matched his own step forward, and just when he closed his eyes to lean in and kiss you, you snatched his shirt from him and ran to the door.

“Guys are so fucking dumb,” you laughed. His eyes shot open and he was too stunned to move.

“Seriously? Give it back!” He said.

“Absolutely not. Did you think I was wearing this mess for the rest of the day? Fat chance,” you smirked. “Oh and Eddie? I definitely don’t spit.”

And with that, you walked out the door and to the bathroom, leaving a very horny and angry Eddie behind.

Eddie threw on his jacket and zipped up the front. He trudged from the room and back to the cafeteria.

“Gareth, do you still have that extra shirt I gave you a while ago?” He asked.

“Yeah it should still be in my locker…why?”

“I need it,” Eddie mumbled.

“Sure, no problem, man.”

“Do I even wanna know?” Bri sighed.

“I’m gonna show that little princess who’s boss,” he growled.

Bri met you outside after classes got out.

“Is that Eddie’s shirt? (Y/N), what’s going on?” She asked.

“He made me spit my soda all over my shirt so he gave me his,” you shrugged.

“He gave it to you?”

“I may have taken it… it’s a long story!”

“You guys are gonna be the death of me. And probably each other,” she sighed, hopping in your car.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” you chuckled.

The next morning, Eddie was waiting by his van for you to pull in. As soon as you parked, he was opening up your door.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” you joked.

“I want my shirt back.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Someone please kill me,” Bri groaned from the passenger seat. “I’ll see you guys later. Please don’t kill each other.”

“Why won’t you give it back?” He asked, blocking you from going any further.

“Because it’s comfortable,” you shrugged.

“But it’s mine.”

“It’s mine now. I actually wore it to bed last night, it was nice.”

“Jesus Christ, just give it back! I’m sure it doesn’t go with whatever stupid pajama bottoms you wear.”

“Who said I wear bottoms?” You asked. His mouth instantly snapped shut and you smiled. “See you later!”

Once again, he was left horny and angry at the thought of you wearing nothing but his Hellfire shirt.

You didn’t see Eddie for the rest of the day, so you figured you’d give him a little present the next time you saw him. That happened to be at lunch the following day which was perfect.

You folded up his shirt and walked up behind him. You snaked your arms around him and placed the shirt in his lap, making him jump.

“Glad you finally came to your senses,” he said, leaning into your touch ever so slightly. He took a big gulp of juice just as you leaned down.

“Unfold it,” you whispered. He did as you said and his juice was immediately sprayed all over the table.

“Woah, dude!”

“Jesus, Eddie!”

“Enjoy,” you whispered.

Eddie snatched the Polaroid of you, posed in a mirror, in nothing but his Hellfire shirt with your ass on full display, and quickly shoved it in his pocket so no one else would see.

You pecked his cheek and walked off, acting like nothing happened. He wanted to get up and chase after you, but the growing bulge in the front of his pants prevented that.

He did his best to calm himself down by the end of lunch so he could hunt you down and ask you just what the fuck you were doing. Unfortunately for him, you figured he was going to come after you so you went straight to your next class. You did your best to race to your car after school, but Eddie cut his last class just to stake you out.

Your keys had just entered the lock when you were pressed against the door. You new immediately by the smell of his cologne that Eddie had found you. You tried your best to hide your smirk when you turned to face him. He had his hellfire shirt slung over his shoulder for safe keeping.

“Hey, Eddie. Funny meeting you here,” you said. He had you caged between his arms and you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze.

“Do you think you’re funny?” He asked.

“Fucking hilarious, actually,” you answered. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared with anger.

“You’re gonna get yourself into trouble, (y/n),” he said.

“Oh is that so?” You chuckled. “I’m counting on it.”

His body was pressed to yours and you were certain he could feel your heart pounding against your rib cage.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

“I wouldn’t ask for much- wouldn’t want to be disappointed after all.”

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he whispered.

“Absolutely not! You’re not fucking in the school parking lot and certainly not in my ride home!” Bri yelled, walking up behind you. She threw her bag in the backseat and got into the passenger side.

“I’ll see you around, Eds.” You winked before pushing him off of you and opening your door. “Oh, wait! One more thing.”

You snatched the shirt from his shoulder and quickly closed your door before he could do anything.

“Are you serious?” He yelled as you sped away. “I hate her. I hate her so much.”

About halfway home, Bri finally broke the silence.

“Sooooo what’s going on between you and Eddie?”

“What do you mean? I’m just having some fun pissing him off,” you laughed.

“I know you and I know when you pick on someone it means you like them. And boy have you teased the hell out of him,” she said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumbled.

“Listen, I think you two would be good together and I don’t want you getting in your own way. And don’t say you wouldn’t!” She argued.

Her words played in your head for the rest of the drive. Did you really like Eddie or were you just having fun? You knew the answer but you didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

You spent your Saturday night alone in your room like the party animal you were. Your parents turned in early but you decided to stay up and break open the newest addition to your comic collection.

Halfway through, you thought you heard something at your window. You waited and heard it again. You looked out and saw Eddie waving you down. He pointed at your front door and you shook your head no. He picked up a large rock and held it up like he was going to throw it. You threw your hands up and flipped him off before quietly running downstairs to the front door. He was already waiting on the front steps when you opened it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You asked.

“Did you think I was gonna let you get away with stealing my shirt a second time? Where is it?” He asked.

“Be quiet! My parents are asleep!” You whisper-yelled. “I’ll give it back on Monday; go away.”

You went to close the door but he stopped it. The way his rings shimmered in the moonlight made you shiver.

“Give it back.”

“No.”

“Now.”

“Fuck you.”

“I wish you would!” He finally snapped.

Your eyes widened and you had the biggest smirk on your face.

“Is that so, Munson?” You asked.

“Like you don’t want the same,” he scoffed. He pushed the door open wider and let himself in, pressing you against the wall in your foyer.

“Well aren’t we being presumptuous,” you chuckled. “And I have a dictionary if you need to look that up.”

“God, I hate you.”

Before you knew what was happening, his mouth was on yours in an angry kiss of tongue and teeth. He bit down on your bottom lip and it made you hiss.

His hand slid easily into your panties as you wrapped your arms around his neck to steady yourself. He wasted no time in plunging his fingers between your folds and rubbing harsh circles on your clit. The sensation made you squirm but he had you held firmly against the wall.

He changed his pace and movements and pleasure was suddenly all you could think about. He was sucking hickies all across your neck but you didn’t care enough to stop him.

He slid two fingers into you with ease, pumping them until his rings nudged your clit. You did your best to stifle your moans, not wanting your parents to wake up. You thanked the heavens that the lights were off and no one looking from the outside would be able to see what a mess he was making you.

“Not so much to say now. Huh, sweetheart?” He laughed.

You tried to think of a witty comeback but all you managed to do was whimper his name. You clenched down on his fingers and he knew you were close.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” He asked.

“Y-yes, Eddie,” you moaned. A few more strokes from his hand and you’d be coming undone. Only right before you could finish, he stopped completely and pulled his hand from your panties. “Wh- no!”

“Sh sh sh, wouldn’t want mommy and daddy coming down to see what the noise is, now do we?” He asked with a smirk.

He brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. You were almost embarrassed by how his fingers glistened.

“That’s it? Are you serious?!”

“As a heart attack, baby. Not fun, is it?” He walked back out onto the porch and turned around. “I want my shirt back on Monday.”

He left you on your doorstep, horny and angry. If he thought that he was getting the upper hand, he was so incredibly wrong. You went back to your room to do two things. 1. Finish what he started and 2. Plot how to take down Eddie Munson.

Part Two

——————————

Taglist:

@thebookbakery @dootys @lily-sinclair-2006 @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @munsaniac @rafecameronswhore @tiredwritersworld @mellomadness

It would mean the world to me if you could reblog this and hype it up. I really enjoyed writing it 🥺

[masterwords]

This isn't a fic. It's barely a blurb. It was just a little thing that was written and then removed from another bigger story, and I thought maybe I'd find a home for it but never did...so now you get it as it is so I can clean up this WIP mess I have.

Somewhere around 1k words. No warnings, nothing happens, it's just Hotch having a fever in a hotel room and Morgan being cute. And messy.

**

“Please stay,” Aaron whispers, his eyes shut. His lashes flutter against his pale cheeks, dark circles peeking from beneath and Derek sighs. He needs to get back to the station before anyone gets concerned. Aaron has a fever; he's been sick for days but now he's almost delirious and Derek couldn't stand watching him try to muddle through the day a moment longer. No one else was going to step in, tell him he had to go back to the hotel and at least take a nap but now... “Please?” Aaron asks again, his hand slipping through the blankets heaped on top of him, finding Derek's knee. He knows his appeal isn't going to work, it's not possible and it's selfish of him to ask...but he's sick and figures he's owed a pass for at least trying. He'll be really disappointed if Derek says yes, of course; he'll tell him to go back to work.

“I can't,” he replies, chuckling at the game Aaron is playing. He wants nothing more than to stay, to be with him, but they're still in the middle of a case and now they're a man down. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

Aaron sleeps. He doesn't try to get up and work, he doesn't pull out his phone, he doesn't even move. He just sleeps, and when Derek comes to check on him before he and JJ go to the ME's office, he can see that he has barely even shifted. Leaving him a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead, he vanishes again, and Aaron is so deep, so lost in sleep that he doesn't know that Derek was even there.

He misses three more visits, until finally it's midnight and his fever has broken briefly into an uncomfortably cold sweat. He wants nothing more than a hot shower. Derek comes back just in time to watch him make his way to the bathroom; they grunt at each other in passing. While the shower hisses to life, Derek settles himself on the barren second bed to eat his sloppy midnight burrito. All of the blankets are on Aaron's bed, he's not sure which bed he'll sleep in, but he's not concerned with that now, this bed will do for dinner. He listens to Aaron cough in the shower, turns up the sound on the television and zones out. Hot sauce drips down his fingers, the foil compromised at the base of the burrito. He groans, grabs for napkins but not in time, it drips down his forearm to his elbow and by the time Aaron wanders out of the shower with his chest pink from the heat of the spray, the rest of him frighteningly pale, Derek is desperately trying to sop up his mess from the bed. White sheets stained by deep red hot sauce, shreds of lettuce and cheese like confetti where he sits. The burrito has made the decision for him, which bed he'll sleep in.

“You bring anything for me?” Aaron rasps with a smirk, his voice is nearly gone and all that remains is something ghostly and fragile. Derek grabs for the bag beside him and tosses it to Aaron as he sits down on the edge of his bed still in only a towel. In the bag is a banana and a small bottle of grape Gatorade, and while Aaron thinks that doesn't sound half as good as a big messy burrito, it's probably the smarter option. “Thanks.”

Derek slips into his bed, the TV still on for a little background noise. Their neighbors are noisy and neither of them wants to hear specifics, whether it be the current fight or what will likely happen after the fight concludes. Aaron rolls himself up tight in the blankets, he's freezing, and it barely helps to stifle the shivers.

“What time is the alarm set for?” Aaron's voice is barely a whisper from inside the blankets and Derek rolls over, faces away from him. If he has to look at him, he might give in.

“Doesn't matter,” he replies, smirking. He can picture the scowl without seeing it. “You're staying here tomorrow too.”

“Derek,” Aaron begins, trying to sound forceful but it's more breath than voice and he winces at the way the word scrapes through his throat. Derek pretends to snore and cuts him off before he can continue. He pretends, the snores getting louder and louder until they're so slow and deep and real, until he's dreaming, and Aaron follows quickly when he realizes this is an argument he can't win.

Derek doesn't wait for his alarm; afraid it'll wake Aaron too. He only sleeps a few hours and is gone before the sun rises. Back to the police station, back to the drawing board. He'll find Spencer there, and a pot of steaming hot coffee, and with any luck they'll catch a break. Aaron doesn't feel him go, doesn't wake, and though Derek comes to check on him at least three times throughout the day...anytime he can spare a moment...he stays in bed, and he sleeps, he doesn't complain or argue. Derek expects to find him sitting at a laptop in his suit at the desk, it wouldn't be the first time. He is in his suit, or at least a button down and slacks, like he'd tried to convince himself he was well enough to work but decided against it. Derek comes by with lunch and finds him sweaty and sprawled out like a starfish on the bed; he pulls off his shoes, sets them neatly beside the bed and leaves the soup on the nightstand in case he wakes. When he shows up around dinner time he's back to being huddled up like a burrito. The clothes discarded on the floor beside the bed are the only sign of life having existed in the room.

Either way, he's sleeping.

It might be the only break they catch that day, but it's not nothing.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine Sokka becoming jealous when he finds out you and Zuko have a history together

Your POV

Your father Piando was the best sword fighting teacher in all the four nations and people came from all over to seek his guidance. So you’d met many men who trained with your father but none of them were like Sokka, or more accurately Sokka wasn't like anyone else who passed through your father’s door. Mainly because he openly admitted he wasn’t perfect which none of the other men had ever dared to do. They’d openly boasted all their achievements hoping to impress your father whereas Sokka was brutally honest about himself and you respected that. Your father was intrigued too and so Sokka was allowed to train with him.

You were also very intrigued and observed Sokka’s training to see what this unique man would do. You watched amused as Sokka completed every single task with his own unique style and grew fonder of him with each passing day. You never interfered with your fathers training methods but you did help Sokka where you could and became friends.

When Sokka completed his training it was time for him to leave and you felt sad. It was nice to have someone so unique and refreshingly imperfect. You and your father both disliked the fire nation and your father always told you it would change eventually. Watching the avatar leave you couldn’t help but wonder if the time was now and realised how much you wanted to be a part of it. "Go" your father said suddenly and you paused "what?". "Join them" he smiled passing you a packed bag and your sword "i always knew you were destined for greatness and this is it....why do you think i pressed you to be so skilled with a sword? Go with Sokka and help him overthrow the firelord". You paused overwhelmed with emotion so you just hugged him "thank you". "You're welcome...just don't get any closer to Sokka okay?". You blushed but made no promises. You ran out of the house and caught Sokka as he was halfway down the road. "Sokka i..." you paused as Sokka and all his friends looked at you and you took a breath "i was wondering if you wanted any help defeating the firelord?". "You want to help us?" Aang asked and you nodded "i’m pretty good with a sword and i know a lot about the fire nation....i’d like to help, i want to fight". Sokka pretended to think before grinning "welcome to the team y/n!".

You worked with Sokka on his invasion plan for the fire nation and provided Aang with invaluable information on the firelord. You and Sokka grew closer and started dating pretty soon after you joined the group. You loved your time travelling with the gang and finally felt like things were changing for the better when a piece of your past came back to you.

You had just arrived at the western air temple and after finally getting Aang to talk to you were interrupted by the prince of the fire nation. Everyone rushed to attack him but you just stood there frozen between shock and awkwardness. Eventually you came forward to stand beside Sokka and listened as the others all debated letting Zuko join. Finally the group agreed to let Zuko join and only then did he fully look up from the ground at you all and he spotted you immediately. "Y/n?" Zuko asked and you smiled "hi Zuko". "Wait you two know each other?" Katara asked. "Yeah my father taught Zuko how to use his dual swords a couple of years ago". Zuko nodded "see her father is this amazing swordsman famous in the fire nation known for....". "Yeah i know, i’ve met him" Sokka replied "and he also trained me so you're not the only sword master here". Zuko nodded awkwardly and you changed the subject.

You showed Zuko around as nobody else wanted to and because you wanted to help make him feel welcome. You also wanted to apologise for not telling the gang you knew each other. You explained to Zuko how you didn’t vouch for him earlier because you thought it was Aang’s place not yours and he understood your reasons. You caught up over everything you’d missed in the fire nation and Zuko’s life while Sokka watched with a confused expression.

Sokka’s POV

"I can believe i had no idea they were friends" Sokka cried and Katara sighed "y/n never said they were friends she just said they knew each other, also how would you know? It never came up". "Yeah but y/n knew we were conspiring against the firelord and she never mentioned she knew his son....do you think that’s odd?”. Sokka’s eyes drifted back to where you were both sat together "and now they're sat laughing and joking around together". Katara sighed "i’m sure they're both just happy to be around people they know, Zuko probably just feels more comfortable around her because she’s from the fire nation too, she knows what it’s like". Sokka raised an eyebrow not convinced. The way you and Zuko acted was way too familiar for casual acquaintances. You seemed very at ease with each other and Sokka couldn’t help but feel you were hiding something about this from him.

Later

You were sat around the campfire drinking tea Zuko made with the group when you realised your boyfriend was missing. You searched all over for him before you finally found him. "There you are!" you called spotting Sokka stood at the edge of the woods "why are you all the way out here it’s freezing". "I don’t feel the cold" Sokka said and you snorted "you don’t feel the cold?" you asked imitating him mockingly and Sokka shook his head but smiled "i meant...i have more of a tolerance to it than you because i grew up surrounded by snow and ice" Sokka said nudging you playfully. You smiled at him and took his hand in yours "well that may be but i still think you shouldn’t be out here all alone, come back to the fire with me, Zuko was telling jokes it was crazy!". "No thanks" Sokka said abruptly dropping your hard and you paused "what?". "I don’t want to listen to Zuko be hilarious and watch him become even better than he already is". You paused "Sokka is everything okay....". "Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?". You paused "i...it didn’t come up plus i wasn’t sure it was relevant...I knew Zuko a while ago, it’s not like we’re close". "I thought the same thing but then i saw the two of you together and you seemed comfortable, familiar even and it made me think....has something ever happened between you two?". You paled and Sokka gasped "i knew it! You like him!". "What? Sokka of course i don't, i left to come with you right?". "So why...". "Okay so while he was being trained with my father we became friends and we might have maybe gone on a couple of dates...". "YOU WHAT!" Sokka cried and you jumped "Sokka it’s not that big a deal! It was like 4 times! Then he left for the capital and we never ever spoke again, you have to believe me". Sokka nodded his head as you stared at him fiercely "i do just wow i can’t believe you dated?". You shrugged "i don’t even know if you can call it that, it was just casual and fun, neither of us were expecting anything long term...it was literally just some fun". Sokka paused "is it...does Zuko still seem fun to you?". You shook your head "Sokka i’d never dated anyone before Zuko...that was half the appeal! The other half was he’s a prince, which when i was younger seemed amazing. I’m older now and not so easily enticed by titles or just any guy. It takes a lot more, someone as great as you" you smiled up at him "and trust me Zuko will never seem as good to me as you do”. Sokka smiled and looked at you "really?". "Really" you nodded and kissed him. Sokka was enjoying it before a thought popped into his head "wait when you two dated did you ever...have you kissed Zuko?". Your eyes widened again and Sokka gasped "you have! Y/n!". "It was only a few times!" you cried and Sokka gaped "of all the girls i fall for...her ex-boyfriend is the future firelord...". "He wasn’t my boyfriend and i...wait girl you've fallen for?". Sokka blushed "well i figured it was pretty obvious...wasn’t i?". "No but even if it was hearing you say it...i’m falling for you too Sokka and that’s why this whole Zuko thing is just...so what if i’ve dated and kissed Zuko? That’s so far in the past! I don’t feel anything for him anymore and even if i did there’s no way it’d ever compare with you...nothing and nobody could". "Not even a fancy nobel man?" Sokka asked smiling and you shook your head "nope". "Or a titled tribal leader?". "No" you grinned and Sokka smiled "what about the earth king?". "Isn’t he like 40?" you asked and Sokka’s smile dropped "ow so if he wasn’t then he'd be an option". You got worried Sokka was actually upset when his frown was replaced with a smile "i’m kidding" he grinned. "You're an ass" you said pushing him but Sokka caught your hands and pulled you to him swiftly. "Yeah i know that’s what you like so much about me...my winning personality". “That’s one of the reasons” you grinned and before Sokka could ask you to list all the reasons you tugged his hand “now can we go back to the fire? I don’t have your water tribe protection from the cold”. Sokka nodded wrapping an arm around you “let's go”. You and Sokka reached the fire and sat together, Sokka stayed close to you to try and share his body heat with you and you willingly leant into him savouring it.

“They look happy” Zuko commented to Katara who nodded smiling. She wasn’t technically speaking to Zuko but she loved you and Sokka as a couple and it melted away her anger. “They are” she smiled. “I’m glad y/n found someone, she deserves someone good”. Katara frowned as Zuko was obviously talking like he knew you well but she didn’t push it. She just smiled seeing her brother so obviously in love with someone who loved him back just as much.

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable ( Jungkook x OC) Chapter 2

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ]

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five.  Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“You alright?” Somi asked gently, watching me fling  my backpack into the corner of the room with enough force to dislodge one of the wooden panels on the wall, the shelf crashing and bringing down the two potted plants on it. The sound of ceramic shattering made me wince, regret churning in my stomach. 

“Yeah...yeah. Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Somi.. I broke your pots-”

“Never mind the pots...why do you look so upset? Have you been crying?” She demanded , reaching for me, hands curling around my wrists and drawing me into a hug and I swallowed, my throat dry and eyes swollen from all the tears that I’d wrung out of them. 

Outside the room, Namjoon stood guard, at the door and I felt guilty remembering how the past three hours had gone. 

After confronting Jungkook, I’d stormed off in righteous indignation and poor Namjoon had been forced to follow. 

He had kept a discreet distance as I climbed to the tallest ridge on the roof, scaling the gables with ease and I knew he had been terrified at the prospect of me falling. 

Immortal or not a three hundred foot drop to the ground would be something that would hurt.

And it was my bodyguard’s job to make sure I did not get hurt. 

When he wasn’t busy fucking other women that is. 

I gripped my sister harder, fingers curling into the fir of her coat as I tried to catch my bearing. 

“Do you know Helena?” I whispered, pulling away to look at her. Somi’s face fell,eyes filling with sympathy.

“Oh, no. Was she here?” She asked gently, reaching out and cupping my cheeks and my lips wobbled. 

“Why didn’t you warn me that he was in a relationship?” my voice shook and Somi shook her head. 

“He’s not!! God, Helena doesn’t do relationships. Jungkook and her.... well, I’m not sure but they’re just fuck buddies..... barely that. You know she’s from the Kim clan right? Those bloodsuckers never settle for one partner. “ She muttered. 

I stared at her.

“He called me a child and then told me he’ll tell dad if i try to make a move on him.” I whispered. 

Somi flinched.

“Sera....”

“It was humiliating and painful and I don’t ever want to think about it, ever again.” I muttered. 

She sighed. 

“It’s not like you don’t have men dying for a glance from you, Sera. You forget that you’re literally the most beautiful woman in the clan. If he rejects you, you’re definitely not the one missing out in that equation.” 

I nodded, misery seeping into me. My sob-fest on the roof hadn’t been wasted. I was angry at first but now, a sort of resigned acceptance had taken the place of my anger. 

 The look on Jungkook’s face had been too real, the emotion behind his rejection too potent for me to get over. I wasn’t sure I could change his mind.

Wasn’t even sure if I wanted to. 

“Was he very hurtful ? You know, if you tell dad, he’ll hire someone else and-”

“No.” I said immediately. “ I won’t do that. It’s not his fault, it’s minge. I acted out like a...well a child to be honest. He doesn’t owe me anything and he’s always been obvious in his disinterest. I was just too blinded my own attraction to consider that it wasn’t reciprocated.” I grimaced. 

God, I’d been an idiot and Jungkook’s words had knocked some good sense into my head. But I did care for him and his son and they needed this job. I wouldn’t put his job in jeopardy just because I didn’t get my way. 

I was better than that.

“Alright... Dad wanted to meet you for breakfast tomorrow.... He sounded serious. Do you know what that’s about?”

I groaned, when I remembered the reason my dad wanted to see me these days. 

“Dad wants me to start meeting men now. He thinks I’m old enough now that i’ve turned 21. He’s been badgering me for a whole entire month but I kept putting him off because of...well, because of Jungkook.” I admitted. 

Somi looked worried.

“You want to ? If you don’t we can talk to dad and-”

“No-” I shook my head.” I’m just gonna agree.” 

Somi looked surprised.

“Are you sure? Sera you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to-”

I smiled weakly. 

“I’m not going to be allowed to stay single forever Somi. Especially not when the entirety of dad’s day is spent trying to chase suitors away from the door. Do you know the Count from Jeju Do...dude’s a whole seven centuries old and he looks like a toad. He apparently tried to ask about me and Dad’s been freaking out.  “ I shuddered. 

Somi laughed.

“ That’s what you get for being you. But dad’s right. Keeping you away from everyone is only inviting more interest. And we don’t want you to be with someone insufferable.” She ruffled my hair and I hugged her again sighing into her shoulders.

No I didn’t want to be with someone who just saw me as some kind of a possession to be owned. I wanted someone nice and kind. A handsome man who did the right thing .  Someone who maybe, worked hard to give his kid a safe and protected life, someone who didn’t shun away from hard work and was a gentleman as well. 

Someone like-

“Someone other than Jungkook.” Somi said gently reading my mind. 

“I really liked him.” I whispered softly, feeling tears spring again. 

God, I thought I was all out of tears for Jeon Jung Kook but apparently I was wrong. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I took extra care with my makeup the next morning, because my father usually had a ton of business meetings during his breakfast. I didn’t usually bother but , I was going to agree to his suggestions today and well, nothing wrong in delighting my father. And nothing made him happier than seeing me prance about  with pretty feminine clothes . 

My dad, for all his jovial cheerful air, loved his position as the head of the Hwang clan. And as his most prized possession , I was the apple of his eye. And while he didn’t treat me as an object or anything ( my dad loved me deeply and his affection was always evident. ) , there was no mistaking the fact that my dad enjoyed the power that came with being my guardian. Powerful men were willing to bend to his will, just for a chance to be with me. 

I sound insufferable, don’t I?

Trust me I’m not. 

The vampires that court me are usually assholes. Entitled, brain dead assholes .  When I opened the door in the morning, dressed in a short summer dress and ready to meet my dad, I was surprised to see Jungkook standing guard outside. He straightened away from the wall where he was fiddling with his phone, his gaze flitting to me, eyes cold and blank. 

I bowed lightly, not smiling.

“Mr. Jeon. I have a breakfast date with my father and then I’ll be heading to the cottage. I’m also meeting a friend of mine at the Art Museum in the evening so i’ll need the Mercedes brought around to pick me up maybe at 5.00PM.” I said briskly, glancing at him. 

My face flamed red when I noticed his gaze, fixed steadily on my ass. I cleared my throat angrily and his eyes met mine, a slow lazy grin playing around his mouth. 

“You look different.” He commented , shamelessly giving me another once over. 

The nerve. 

I swallowed, willing myself not to blush harder.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

He chuckled.

“That dress barely covers your butt, angel. You sure you want to head to daddy dearest, dressed like that?” The way he said daddy made my skin heat up. 

I felt my jaw come unhinged. 

“That’s...that is none of your damn business.” I said shrilly.

He gave me another once over.

“Okay, then. If that’s what you’re into...fine. Let’s go.” 

Gritting my teeth, i tried to keep my face neutral. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to me. I would not. 

I walked ahead of him , my fists clenched and my jaw tight and I felt incredibly upset because the day had barely begun and I was already wound tight. I was supposed to be relaxed and clear headed while talking to my father but Jeon Jungkook had muddled my brains as usual. 

I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. 

“Sera, wait.” His voice made me pause and I stopped, turning around to glare at him.

“What?” I snapped. 

He sighed, deeply. I watched as he ran his hands through his hair, tongue pressing into his cheek the way it did when he was upset. 

“About last night-”

I felt my pulse quicken. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it!” I said quickly, turning back around to leave but his fingers came around my arm, gripping hard . 

“Well tough luck. Because I do!” He said sharply. 

I whimpered, pain blooming up my arm and he swore, loosening his grip.

“I keep forgetting you’re human.” He muttered, “ I’m sorry... I just... I wanted to apologize for how i handled things last night. I was twenty once and I should have been more understanding.”

I closed my eyes. Oh, God no. Please, please for the love of God, let me hate you in peace. Don’t apologize and make me fall in love all over again.

“Its fine.” I choked out. “ You were right. I was out of line.”

“You deserve better.” He said quickly, eyes flitting away from my face and I felt a sharp pang in my heart. God , this was agonizing. 

“Jungkook-”

“It’s just that you’re...well you know who you are. You can’t be with ...someone like me and trust me you don’t want to be with someone like me either. I know its appealing, the whole illusion of stability. older man, has a kid, has his life together .....but that’s not all it means .” He gave me a tired smile.

I bit my lips, ot replying and he went on. 

 “ I have baggage, a shit ton of it and I would have to be especially cruel to unload something like that on a girl barely out of her teens. I’ve done shit I’m not proud of ,....but ruining your life, I’m gonna draw the line there.” He smiled , looking a whole decade younger and I closed my eyes.

I was back to square one, I thought miserably. He had my whole heart. 

“ So we’re good right?” He prompted and I exhaled, giving him a smile.

“We’re good.”

“That’s good. Because my son loves you and I would rather we be friends. You’re just like a daughter to me. ” He touched my face gently, pulling away at once, the small contact leaving fire in its wake and I had to clench my fists . 

A daughter?!! Is he out of his damned mind? 

“Okay.” 

“Let’s go then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jungkook, please sit down. You’re like my son and I don’t want you hovering like you’re part of the backdrop. I’ve trusted you with my entire life.” My father beamed, pointing at me and i laughed. 

Jungkook bowed respectfully, taking the chair next to me. 

“How are you , my buttercup?” My father asked softly, fingers gripping mine and I smiled.

“I’m well, father. Do you like my dress?” 

Next to me Jungkook coughed and I shot him a dirty look. 

“It looks ravishing on you. The prettiest flower in my estate is my daughter, do you agree Jungkook?” My father prompted and I swallowed the smirk that threatened. 

Poor Jungkook was going to learn that being my bodyguard meant singing my praises twenty four seven or at least anytime my father was in hearing distance. 

“Uh..” Jungkook’s eyes flitted between the two of us, “ Yes sir. Your daughter is quite lovely.” 

I beamed at him and he looked away quickly. 

Coward. 

Turning back to my dad I held my hand out. 

“DAd, you wanted to see me about something?”

“Yes dearest. You know the Kim clan’s matriarch has been after me. Three of her great great great grandsons have come of age recently. And all three of them are set to take over some very lucrative businesses. They are good men and apparently they’re quite smitten with you. They say you know of them from school?”

I sighed.

“Do you know their names?” I prompted.

“Mingyu, Minjae and Yugyeom.” My father said briskly. 

 Ugh.

 “ They’ve asked me out before, yes.” 

“Uh..Excuse me.. Could I get a refill?” Jungkook said quietly next to me and i turned, watching him wave to one of the footmen. 

“Jungkook, are you thirsty?” My father asked brightly. 

An idea formed in my head, wicked and dangerous. 

“Perhaps, he should get a taste of the Hwang Elixir?” I said innocently. 

My father’s gaze snapped to mine. 

A small frown made its way to his face. 

“Are you sure? I’m not sure if Jungkook would be comfortable-”

I turned to him, purposely flipping my long hair off my shoulders exposing my throat . Jungkook’s eyes went to the curve of my neck at once and i felt a sick sort of triumph when his eyes flashed red.

“Oh, no no...” I crooned, leaning in closer. “ I’m sure you aren’t uncomfortable , are you Jungkook ssi? After all, I am just like a daughter to you , aren’t I?” I stared right at him, fluttering my lashes and I saw his jaw clench. 

“Of course, Ms. Hwang.” He said briskly, glaring at me. I played with the small gold chain around my neck, letting my fingers flutter over my pulse , drawing his gaze there.

“Well, that is true ...” My father looked uncertain, but I gave him a gentle nod and a smile. 

“Well, as a special guest, I suppose you can enjoy our hospitality , Jeon. Why don’t you take a drink from -”

I moved closer, pressing up against him and Jungkook sighed, lips closing over my neck, and I felt my eyes flutter shut at the wet warmth of his mouth . 

It was intoxicating, the way he used one hand to grip my neck gently, the other on my waist to steady me and when his fangs pierced through, I could sense the warm liquid flood his mouth and Jungkook’s entire body relaxed, a strangled moan escaping him. 

“---my daughter’s wrist.” My father finished and I felt Jungkook stiffen next to me. 

This time I couldn’t stop the grin that bloomed on my face. 

My eyes dropped to his lap and yup, his pants definitely looked a tad tighter. 

“Did I do good, Mr Jeon? Or should I call you daddy? ” I whispered quietly , fluttering my lashes at him and his fangs retracted and he pulled away from me, shoving me back into my own chair quickly. 

My father was slightly slack jawed. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hwang. “ Jungkook muttered and I laughed.

“I do believe it is I whom you should be apologizing to. It is  my  neck you just mauled. ” I smiled brightly staring at Jungkook and if looks could kill, I would have a thousand wooden stakes through my heart right about now. ‘

Take that Mr. Jeon. 

Daughter, my ass. 

“My apologies , Sera.” He said stiffly. 

My father laughed raucously.

“Ahh, you must be used to the neck, my dear boy. understandable understandable. it is how we used to do it in the old days, after all . These younglings with all their etiquette and feminism and what not....it’s hard to keep up..... But now you must tell me? Is my daughter not the sweetest you’ve ever had?” 

I choked, coughing. Oh God, sometimes my 900 year old father had no idea how he sounded. 

Jungkook looked like he had swallowed a lemon. 

“She’s certainly ...” He stopped, probably realizing that any adjective at the end of that sentence would sound entirely wrong. 

“Delicious?” I prompted, blinking innocently and Jungkook shot me another glare. 

“Well, nevermind nevermind. .... So, tell me dearest, will you be willing to meet the Kim boys?”

I sighed.

“I like Yugyeom. I cannot stand Minjae. I don’t know enough about Mingyu to make any judgement. How about I meet Mingyu and if I don’t hit it off with him, I will allow Yugyeom to court me....” I said softly.

I glanced at Jungkook but he was studiously looking away. 

“Very well my dear. Do you have any plans today?”

“I’m meeting a friend at the museum.”

My father’s eyes widened.

“Well isn’t that a wonderful coincidence. Mingyu's law firm is just a block away if I’m not mistaken. I’ll ask the boy to pick you up afterwards. Have dinner with him and you can tell me tonight of your choice.” My father smiled briskly.

“Yes, father.” 

“Jungkook..” My father prompted and the vampire glanced up.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take good care of her. At the restaurant, make sure you stay at hearing distance. “ 

“Yes sir.” Jungkook bowed and I groaned. 

In other words, let my father know if I behaved appropriately. 

i pouted and my father waggled his finger at me.

“No, no no.. Missy. I’m going to make sure you keep your end of the bargain . You need to give these men a proper chance before you reject them. “ 

I nodded.

“And you must ask Either Somi or Seolhyun to dress you. No jeans or one of those ridiculous gowns that make you look like a pastry.”

There was no mistaking the snort that came from my right and i glared at Jungkook before turning to my dad.

“Yes, father.” 

“Good, now run along the pair of you. “

I stood up, kissing my father fondly on his forehead.

“I love you.” I whispered. 

“You are my whole entire joy, dearest. “ He kissed my hand gently, eyes warm and soft.

As we left the room, Jungkook let out a sigh.

“I am never having a meal with you two again.” He ground out and I laughed. 

“Anything you say, daddy.” I grinned. 

Jungkook groaned. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As luck would have it,  my friend cancelled . 

So at six the evening, I finished locking up the cottage as the last of the kids left, fumbling with the lock while a tired Joo Won napped in his father’s arms, head resting on Jungkook’s shoulders. I felt myself soften at the picture they made, Jungkook singing softly , fingers brushing his son’s hair back as he rocked him gently. 

“I’ll be a while... I needed to get ready. Why don’t you put him to bed? Who’s watching him tonight?”

“Hwasa and Moonbyul offered. I’ll drop you off in your room and head to the north wing. What time are you meeting the jerkwad?” He said casually.

I blinked rapidly, confused.

“I’m sorry... the jerkwad?” 

Jungkook shrugged.

“It’ just a fact. Most men are absolute jerks at twenty one.” He shrugged. 

i felt myself bristling on behalf of the unknown Mingyu.

“That is absolutely unfair. My brothers were incredibly kind and good.”

“To you perhaps. Because they don’t have to impress you. But men act differently when they’re trying to get between a woman’s thighs. They’re jerks when they want to get laid...” He grinned.

“Is that why you act like a jerk to me? ” I smiled evilly and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, darling we both know I don’t have to act in any different way to get you into my bed . I just have to do this.” He smirked, curling his finger in a come hither gesture.  

I felt my pulse pound and I tried not to let his words get to my head. He was flirting , yes but it was a joke. He was joking with me because the very idea of being with me was a joke to him. 

And I couldn’t forget that. 

Rolling my eyes, I pulled on the lock a couple more times to make sure the door was well locked. 

“Shall we leave?” He prompted watching me wrestle the backpack onto my shoulders. I grunted under the weight. 

“Of course. Let’s go.” 

We walked in silence for a few seconds.

“So, how’s he doing? With stuff?” Jungkook asked gently and I felt warmth bloom in my chest. 

“He’s very advanced for his age Jungkook. You’ve done a wonderful job with him. He’s able to read and he has a beautiful l writing hand. He’s learned his multiplication tables all the way up to seven and he has the voice of an angel. Which I think he gets from you. ” I smiled, reaching out to brush the back of Joowon’s head. 

Jungkook smiled softly, the late evening sun painting his perfect features in a soft golden glow. 

“Your father was kind enough to support me the first few years when i had him. I didn’t trust anyone enough to leave him with them and well... i needed to put a roof over our head.” He sighed . 

I touched his arm, giving it a small squeeze.

“I understand. I’m glad you’re here. He’ll grow up well in our clan.   “

“And he has a lot of excellent men to look up to here...He needs a good role model, someone kind and amazing who can inspire him to be hardworking and fair. ” He smiled.

I bit my lips.

“I think he’s had that all along. ” I said quietly.

Jungkook’s breath caught for a second and the air between us changed. I licked my lips. 

“Jungkook you’re a good father. You know that right?” I said after a few more seconds of silence. 

He laughed.

“Am I really? I wonder.” 

“He loves you.” I breathed , “  You’re all he talks about.... Today, one of the other kids tried to say that his father was brave because he helped someone who was stuck in an elevator. you know what Joowon did? He listed some twenty different incidents where you’ve helped people out....And he looked so proud.”

Jungkook’s ear looked red in the brightly lit garden. 

“i was just doing my job. Most of those times, I was in danger.” He grunted. 

“And yet, you did the right thing. “ I whispered. “ And your son was watching. And he’s learned the importance of doing the right thing even when you’re scared. That’s a life lesson that isn’t easy to learn.”

“Can’t disagree with that.” He chuckled. I grabbed his arm forcing him to stop. 

I had to tell him this. 

 “ Jungkook, when immortality is on the plate, people don’t give much value to morals. They don’t always care about doing the right thing.... . Its how our kind functions. Consequences don’t mean much when you have a whole eternity to fix your mistakes.....So I always admire vampires who value morals. “ I smiled, “ To see a five year old with such a well formed moral compass... it tells me that you’re an amazing father. Possibly the best I’ve ever met. “ I reached out, to hold his hand, wanting to touch him in some way, to make him believe that I was completely honest. 

“Sera!!!!!!” My sister’s voice made me jump and Jungkook stepped away as well. 

“Dad told me you’re going on a date? I’ve picked out an outfit for you!! But you need to take a shower! You cannot show up smelling like diapers and spit-up.” She called. 

I groaned. 

“Time for the ugly duckling to transform into a swan, I see?” He said gently. 

“Your son’s favorite fairytale.” I whispered.

“He makes me read it every night.” 

“I would like to sit in on that someday.” I laughed.

His eyes met mine. 

“You’re always welcome, Ms Hwang,” He smiled politely. “ Someday soon maybe your kids and my son would be friends.” 

And just like that the wall grew between us. 

His kids and my kids. 

Not our kids because he wasn’t for me. 

He would never be for me. 

I felt the sudden inexplicable urge to cry. 

Turning away, I began following my sister as she waved to me. . 

“I’ll be at your door at seven.” He called out behind me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[bothcreativitybois]

Schedules

This is a fic I wrote as a gift for @star-crossed-shipper I don’t usually write analogical stuff so I hope this pleases you all.  Wordcount: 5633 Ship: Analogical TWs: Swearing, panic attacks, sexual refrences, hyperfocusing, isolating.   Taglist (ask to be added): @crazydemigod666 @newtnotfound 

Everything was running like clockwork. Wake up at seven am, personal grooming until seven twenty, head downstairs to make coffee, give Patton his muffin and hot chocolate at seven thirty three, make two eggs and a slice of toast with Crofters at seven thirty five, Roman’s grand entrance at seven forty, eat breakfast at seven forty five. It was now seven fifty, he had another three minutes to finish his breakfast. Then two minutes to rinse his plate. Everything had it’s time, everything fit into his neat little schedule. “Good morning, Pierce The Virge.” Roman announced from the kitchen as he mixed his tea. Logan swerved in his stool. Nearly everything fit in his schedule. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your face before noon?” Virgil was never awake this early. Then again Virgil had no schedule. Everyone else had one, even if they didn’t realise, and Logan had mapped them to fit his own. But Virgil just… did things. Virgil grumbled something and stole the toast off of Logan’s plate. “Hey!” Logan protested. “Your brother’s being loud in my room.” Virgil answered Roman. Logan noticed Virgil wasn’t wearing his usual jacket. Maybe Virgil was who he had heard in the laundry last night? Virgil took a bite of the toast. Logan stood up with his plate and walked around the counter to the kitchen. “That would be because I vanquished him from Patton’s room.” Roman said. He and Virgil were blocking the sink. He needed to rinse his plate but they were talking in his way. It would be rude to interrupt their conversation. Logan put a hand on the small of Virgil’s back to try and communicate that he needed to get past. Virgil jumped at the sudden touch and looked back. He caught Logan’s eyes and his face flushed. Logan wasn’t usually the touchy type. “Excuse me.” Logan said. His voice was still tired and a little rough, it made Virgil’s heart skip a little and his mind raced. Logan noticed the edge of Virgil’s make-up began to sparkle. “Hey! Wheezer! You paying attention?” Roman said, snapping Virgil back to reality. Roman pulled Virgil out of the way so Logan could get past. “Thank you, Roman.” Logan said. His head felt weird, it was lighter. Almost dizzy. Was he dehydrated? Virgil dropped his stolen toast and ran from the room. “Virgil?” Patton tried as Virgil ran. He didn’t stop. Logan ignored what happened and rinsed his plate like he intended. Roman and Patton looked at him in disbelief. “That wasn’t very nice, Logan.” Patton said. Logan put down the plate and checked his watch. “I don’t believe I did anything rude.” Logan replied. “They were talking and I needed to get past so I used a non-verbal gesture so as to not interrupt.” Roman rolled his eyes, Patton sighed. “Yes but people may not like you touching them without warning. Especially Virgil since he has a crush-” Roman jumped across the counter and put a hand over Patton’s mouth. “Crushing amount of social anxiety!” Roman finished. Patton looked at Roman and nodded furiously. That was unusual. “Yes well I thought it would be more rude to interrupt the conversation to tell him he was in the way. I believe I did what was most socially acceptable.” Logan said. “Besides his make-up sparkled which usually only happens when he is excited so it couldn’t have been too intrusive.” Roman and Patton looked at eachother flatly. Logan was so smart yet so damn clueless. Patton gently removed Roman’s hand from his face. “Still it may be best to apologise.” Patton suggested. “You know, for good measure?” Logan gazed up at the stairs, there was a tingling sensation in his stomach. He was sure he’d cooked the eggs thoroughly. Was this connected to the dizziness? He looked back down at his watch. The minute ticked over. “I cannot.” Logan said and began walking out of the kitchen. Roman and Patton began whispering to each other. “Why?” Roman asked as Logan began climbing the stairs. “I have a schedule to keep.”

After being startled Virgil had run back to his room out of habit. He slammed the door shut and sat against it, holding his head. He mumbled incoherently to himself. Unfortunately he’d forgotten the mustached menace in the room. “Really I’m giving you my best here but you’re scared when you leave the room?” Remus pouted. Virgil looked up in shock. Remus knew that look. “A panic attack? I really have been bested.” Virgil looked back down. “Not now, Remus.” He mumbled. Remus slinked over curiously. “Who was it?” Remus asked. Virgil tried to push him away weakly but couldn’t. “Was it my brother? No he’s way too weak.” “Go away!” Virgil curled up tighter. “It obviously wasn’t Daddy Patty.” Remus continued. “It could’ve been Janny but I doubt he’s out of the bath yet. Did you see Scales’ big ol’ trouser snake?” Remus lifted Virgil's head to get a reaction. “Get lost, Crap Face!” Virgil yelled as he pulled out of Remus’ grasp. That insult was weak even for Virgil. “Well then it must’ve been Dirty Nerdy.” Virgil’s head shot up, giving Remus his answer. “Ooh it was. Tell me what did he do? Did he tell you about the sun exploding? The chances of the earth being hit by an apocalyptic sized meteor?” Remus pressed. Virgil buried his head and tried to ignore him. Then Remus caught a glimpse of sparkle under Virgil’s eye. He smiled knowingly. “Or maybe he tried to kiss ya?”   “Stop!” Virgil’s voice echoed loudly. Remus knew he’d hit something with that. “So you wanna bone the teacher? I mean I guess I get it… if you’re into the nerdy emotionally cut off but goes off like a rocket in bed type.” Virgil began picturing it, he didn’t want to but he did. Why did Remus have to know just how to get to him? “No!” Virgil yelled. “Oh so I’m wrong? You don’t want him to kiss your neck? Or see his glasses fog up when you’re pinned to his wall?” Remus kept going. Virgil kept unwillingly picturing everything he said. “Go! Away!” Virgil struggled loudly. “Is it because you want to be in charge? You want to throw him on your bed. You want to pull him down by his tie so his face is between-” “Please stop!” Why was Virgil so embarrassed? “You want him on all fours begging for-” Out of everyone Remus was the least likely to judge him. “Fuck off!” It may be his chance to actually talk about it. “You want to bend him over your leg and-” Maybe it was best to let Remus win. “You’re right, Remus!” Virgil snapped finally. That was probably the first time anyone had ever said that. “I think Logan is hot! I want to kiss him! I want to cuddle! I even want to do… that too! I want Logan!” Remus smiled smugly. Virgil took a few deep breaths. “See? Was it really that hard to admit?” Remus teased. Virgil leaned his head back against the door. “Yes.” Virgil replied. “Logan doesn’t have feelings, or at least not the same way we do. And even if he did there’s no way he’d actually like me back. I’m… me.” Virgil felt hopeless. For pete's sake he was talking to Remus. “You aren’t completely unfuckable.” Remus said. It was actually kind of reassuring. “You definitely have the kinky ‘step on me goth boy’ appeal.” Well by Remus standards at least. Virgil smiled a little. “Thanks.” He replied genuinely. “Well I feel wanted here which means it’s my cue to leave.” Remus said standing. He opened the door, hitting Virgil. “Whatever.” Virgil stood and trodded over to his bed and flopped down. Remus looked back at Virgil. “Hey?” Remus said to get Virgil’s attention. He looked up slightly. “You think if Logan gets some he wouldn’t be such a stick up my ass anymore?”  Virgil threw a pillow at the door as Remus shut it.

Logan heard Remus in the hall as he worked. Maybe Remus would be able to help him with this. While he was messy and unproductive, this was a topic he’d sure like. Logan walked across the room and opened his door. “Remus.” Logan greeted leaning out the door. Remus turned quickly. “I haven’t even done anything yet. I’m just walking.” Remus replied. Logan rolled his eyes. “I believe your insight might be helpful to a problem I am trying to figure out.” Logan clarified. Remus groaned. “Do I have to?” Remus asked. “You don’t. But the problem is about illnesses and their symptoms so I figu-” Logan was nearly floored by the green blur rushing into his room. He looked in to see Remus sitting on his bed. Logan straightened his glasses and closed the door. “So who’s dying and how?” Remus asked. Logan took out a whiteboard and put it on a stand. He separated it into two sides. On the left he wrote ‘symptoms’ and the right ‘possible causes’. “Hopefully no one.” Logan began. “I believe I may have contracted something after our experiments last week in the imagination.” Logan wrote two symptoms on the board. Dizziness and unsettled stomach. Remus summoned a pair of thick fake glasses and slipped them on his face. He scratched his chin. “These seem pretty unexciting.” Remus said. “Anything else?” Logan took out a journal and flicked through the pages. He examined the logs from the days between when he and Remus experimented and now. “Yes.” Logan answered. Remus took the marker and got ready to write. “Five cases of tingling sensation in extremities. Each one seemingly isolated.” Remus added the list on the whiteboard. “Which parts?” Remus asked. Logan looked down then back up. “Be honest.” “Fingers, hands and toes.” Logan answered. Remus wrote one extra place. “Remus!” “If you won’t be honest I will!” Remus defended. Logan leaned over and wiped the crude word off. “I’ve also experienced temperature fluctuation.” Logan added. Remus wrote it and stepped back. “So far not really adding together.” Remus said. Logan looked over too. “Yes, I can’t see any connections either.” Logan commented then looked down again. “Well, are you sure that’s everything?” Remus tried to snatch away the book but Logan dodged. “I mean there’s some tachycardia I’ve been tracking but that’s been going on for longer than the figurative window. Same with some regular shortness of breath.” Logan added. Remus wrote that in the possible causes section. “That would only explain the dizziness and tingling. Maybe the fevers but that’s a long shot.” Remus nawed the marker, getting ink on his teeth. “But if you’ve been having those for longer than our experiment then it may be an underlying condition that’s only just rearing up.” Logan was actually impressed. He’d put the tachycardia and weak lungs down to stress and being generally unfit. “You… may have a point.” Logan admitted. “Maybe there’s something you missed further back? How long has this been going on?” Remus was suddenly serious. Logan thought that was impossible. He flipped through his logs. “The first time for the heart palpitations was a few months ago, I remember because it was the day when I got this new tie.” Logan explained. “What was happening when you got them?” Remus asked, tapping on the board slightly. “I don’t see how this is relevant?” Logan dodged the question. “Just indulge me.” Remus said. Logan sighed. “Uhm… it was while we were in a meeting with Thomas. Virgil had just shown us his new jacket.” Logan said. Remus lit up. He took off the glasses he was wearing and chewed on the arm. “And the shortness of breath?” Remus pressed. “Every morning before I walk down the stairs.” Logan informed. “And whose room is right there?” Remus quizzed.  Logan began to catch on too. “Virgil’s room.” They’d found the common factor. “The tingling?” Remus pressed. “When I’ve been handing or taking things from Virgil!” Logan was getting excited. So was Remus. They’d figured it out. Remus threw his glasses across the room. “You know what this means?!” Remus asked. “Yes!” Logan answered. “I’m allergic to whatever Virgil’s hooded jacket is made of.” “Yes! Wait no…” Remus dissaggreed. Clearly they’d come to very different conclusions. “There’s only one way to find out.” Logan said before sinking out. Remus stood there for a second. “Oh this is gonna be a disaster…” Remus laughed.

Logan rose back up in the laundry room. Virgil wasn’t wearing his jacket earlier and Logan had heard someone in there last night. Given that it was past the time everyone else went to sleep, and Remus is allergic to soap and therefore hates that room, there was only one person it could’ve been. Logan looked at his watch. He had time, Patton doesn’t do laundry for another fifteen minutes. He opened the dryer, thankfully Virgil hadn’t taken his stuff yet. He pulled out the mass of black clothes and threw them around looking for the jacket. He found it and pulled it out. “Ah ha!” Logan said to himself. He held the jacket at arms length, carefully. If his hypothesis was true then this was the cause of his problems. He looked at the jacket, hoping it would cause something to happen. Nothing did. He slowly pulled the jacket closer. “Come on…” he waited but still nothing. Surely this had to be close enough. He wasn’t getting much closer than this to Virgil. There was a catch in his throat with that thought. His eyes went wide. It was working. Logan brought the jacket to his face. This would surely get a result. He sniffed the jacket deeply. “What the hell?” A voice came from behind Logan. He pulled the jacket away and turned around, Virgil was in the doorway. Why couldn’t Virgil just run on a schedule? Logan’s face flushed and his breath stopped. He felt his head get dizzy. “It worked!” Logan announced. He shook the jacket. Virgil wasn’t sure what he’d just walked into. His clothes were all over the floor and Logan was excited about sniffing his hoodie? “What…?” Virgil managed. Logan shook the clothes off his feet and rushed over to Virgil. He grabbed Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil blushed. “I’ve been feeling weird and I went over my symptoms with Remus and we figured out I am allergic to your jacket!” Logan explained. He noticed Virgil’s pale cheeks had gone red. “Wait a minute.” Logan leaned forward, inspecting Virgil’s face. If Virgil was also allergic then maybe they all were. Maybe Thomas was. Virgil wasn’t sure what to do, Logan was so close. His whole chest was full of butterflies, some fluttering into his throat. Instincts took over, but this time it wasn’t flight. Virgil quickly leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Logan’s lips. Just a quick peck, but it was enough to make them both leap back. Like they’d been shocked by electricity. Logan dropped the jacket. Neither moved. Neither spoke. Virgil’s mind was running with anxiety and doubts, Logan was going over the symptoms again. He was feeling them all at once. It wasn’t the jacket. Suddenly a figurative lightbulb lit up. Fast heartbeat, raised temperature, short breath, lightheadedness, tingling, these were things Roman’s songs were about. This was… attraction. Virgil couldn’t believe he’d just done that, he didn’t even ask first. He was embarrassed. He was a terrible person. He’d pushed his feelings on to Logan selfishly. Virgil took off down the hall, covering his face. Logan was frozen for a moment then went after him. “Whoa watch it, Kiddo!” Patton shouted as Virgil pushed past him. Patton with his laundry, like clockwork. Patton looked forward to see Logan also barreling toward him. “Wha slow down!” Logan skidded to a stop in front of Patton. “Apologies.” Logan said breathlessly. Patton looked up at Logan then down the hall where Virgil had just run. “What happened?” Patton asked. Logan wasn’t sure how to answer. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to answer. He knew nothing about attraction. Or romance. He was clueless and he hated it. He looked down and saw Patton’s cat onesie hanging out of the washing basket. It gave him an idea. “Research….” Logan mumbled before running off. Patton was more confused than before.

Logan’s room was dark, a sign of just how focused he was. It was almost like the rest of the room didn’t exist. The only light was the bright double monitors illuminating Logan’s face harshly. Three books laid open against the screens. “That lighting is not flattering, dear.” Roman said to announce his presence. Logan didn’t look away from the screens. Roman took a few steps closer, he could see a few empty mugs and countless papers cluttering Logan’s desk. Logan himself was hunched deeply over his desk, scribbling furiously into a book. Roman put a cautious hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Hey Logan, you doing okay?” Logan’s head snapped backwards, only just realising Roman was in the room. “Perfect perfect Roman you are perfect.” Logan muttered at a nearly incoherent speed. Logan’s eyes were wide and tired, it scared Roman. He pulled himself away from them to examine what was on the screens. “Is that Crazy Rich Asians and… Eat, Pray, Love?” Roman asked. The movies were going fast, playing at double the speed. “Yes.” Logan answered hurriedly. “Well that can’t be a melodic mix- Wait you hate romantic movies.” Roman was confused. Everything about this situation was out of character for Logan. “I came to tell you Patton made breakfast but I fear I stumbled upon something worrying.” “It’s morning?” Logan asked quickly. Roman nodded. Logan thought for a moment. “I should raise it to 2.5 speed…” Logan grabbed his mouse and began adjusting the movies. Roman backed up slightly. “I don’t have a clue what is happening so I’m just gonna leave you to-” Roman began but Logan stood hurriedly and grabbed his arm. “No no no you’re just the person I need!” Logan said, pulling Roman back over. He picked up his notebook and shoved it towards Roman. “I have been isolating the root of romance. I am looking through every romantic book and movie and recording any recurring themes.” Roman couldn’t read the notes, both from the darkness and how messy they were. He looked past Logan back at the screens. “Is that my copy of Boyfriend Material?” Roman pushed past Logan and took the book off the desk. “Yes. And your copy of Fifty Shades Of Grey.” Logan added. Roman blushed. “Uh no… I uh that’s Remus’ clearly.” Roman stammered. “What was this about isolation and themes?” Logan handed the notebook to Roman and wiped his whiteboard clean. He drew a three circle venn diagram. “I have isolated three elements to a successful romantic coupling.” Logan began. He wrote the first element, vulnerability. “Vulnerability. I’ve noticed most courting at some point or another has someone, usually the male, do something embarrassing or risky. I believe this is what you refer to as ‘grand romantic gestures’, correct?” Logan waited for a response. “Well… I guess?” Roman answered. “But what is the poin-'' Logan wasn’t listening. “Second, sacrifice.” Logan wrote the word down in another bubble. “The relationship does not start until one or more people give something up. Usually something that causes figurative friction between them and the other person.” Roman had an objection. “That is a rather cynical way to-” Logan still wasn’t listening. “And finally.” Logan wrote the final element. “Desire. Shared attraction is key to the relationship becoming romantic. If it’s one-sided then everything will fail and the attracted subject will be subject to embarrassment and sadness. If there is no desire then… I mean they just don’t become romantic partners.” Logan finished by writing one final word in the overlapping sections, Romance.  Roman looked over the diagram closely. “May I ask a question?” Roman finally had the chance to speak. Logan made a gesture for him to continue. “Why the sudden interest in how romance works past, and I quote, ‘an uncontrollable and unfortunate chemical reaction’?” Logan’s face flushed although Roman couldn’t tell in the darkness. “I uh… Well I just think… You see…” Logan couldn’t find a way to answer. Roman rolled his eyes, Logan struggled with emotions and abstracts. He tried to rephrase. “Are you planning on being romantic with someone?” Roman gave a simple yes or no. Logan nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. “Has anything happened between you and this guy yet?” Roman was trying to figure out what exactly was happening. “Be more specific.” Logan said. “Has anything that you would classify as romantic happened between you and this guy?” Roman tried again. Logan’s face burned as he recalled the kiss. This time it was enough for Roman to see. He smiled. “Yes…” Logan answered. “Okay well may I suggest one change to your approach?” Roman asked. Logan held out the marker for him. Roman stepped forward and began rubbing off the diagram with his sleeve. Logan panicked and pulled him away. “Whoa wait what was that?” Logan asked, shocked. “Logan, listen to me.” Roman said and grabbed Logan’s arms. “You’re doing this wrong, and I bet you know it.” Logan pushed Roman off. “I don’t know what you mean.” Logan said. Why would he do this if he didn’t think it’d work? Roman clapped his hands and Logan’s lights turned on. “Look around.” Roman demanded, taking Logan’s shoulders again. In the light it looked so much worse. He could see every crumpled note, every coffee stain, every hastily scribbled note, every smudge on his glasses. “Does this look efficient or healthy?” Logan looked across at a mirror. He had dark bags under his eyes and his hair was akin to a bird's nest. “No…” Logan admitted. “But why else would I do this?” Logan’s voice was weak. Roman sat him down on his bed. “You’re confused would be my guess. You’re not used to strong emotions like this so you’re trying to turn them into statistics and formulas.” Logan held his head in his hands. He didn’t like this. Roman looked down softly. “And maybe you’re holding yourself up in your room to avoid Virgil.” Logan reeled back. He didn’t remember telling Roman who he was having romantic feelings for. “How…” Logan tried. “Virgil is also hiding, which isn’t unusual for him but it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.” Roman explained, sitting next to the other man. Logan fell onto his back. Roman was right, he was confused. This wasn’t his area of expertise, hell that was probably an understatement. “Roman… please help me.” Logan finally asked quietly. “You are the expert. In everything I’ve researched it’s shown as a natural instinct or a happy daze but… I’m not used to emotions I can’t control. It’s overwhelming. I can’t do anything about it.” Roman brought his legs up on the bed to face Logan. “Tell me exactly what happened.” Roman said. Logan covered his face and sighed. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. “I was looking at his face for symptoms of allergies and he kissed me then ran away.” Logan summarised. Roman ignored the first part about allergies, he wasn’t even going to ask. “Heh, I’m surprised he had the guts to make the move. I owe Patton five bucks.” Roman joked. Logan shot a hard glare. “Did you talk to Virgil about it?” Logan sat up with a huff. “No, we haven’t talked since that happened.” Logan clarified. Roman put a hand over his heart dramatically. “Honestly, what did I expect from you two?” Roman sighed. “Can you be serious please?” Logan begged. Roman put up his hands in surrender. “Listen, the solution is simple. Virgil kissed you because he has romantic feelings for you. And you have romantic feelings for him, correct?” Roman already knew the answer but waited for Logan to nod to continue. “So go tell him. Talk to him and be honest about how you feel and what you want.” Roman advised. He really had to explain the basics, huh? Logan looked over confused. “I don’t need flowers or like… fairy lights on a boat in front of the statue of liberty?” Logan asked genuinely. Roman laughed. “Romance isn’t as complicated as you’ve made yourself think it is. As long as you’re open and honest with him you’ll do fine.” Roman looked over Logan once more. “A nap and shower wouldn’t hurt your chances either…”  Roman stood up and collected the mugs from Logan’s desk. Logan began to lay down. “Thank you.” Logan said as Roman reached the door. Roman smiled back and flicked off the light. “For what it’s worth, I believe in you.” Roman said as he shut the door. Logan laid on his back, staring at the roof. His tired brain began planning the script for the coming conversation.

Virgil didn’t know just how long he’d been locked away, curled up in the heaviest fluffiest blanket he had. Loud music blasted through his headphones. His world was crumbling around him but he was paralyzed and couldn’t do anything to stop it. He knew that reasonably he could just walk down the hall and talk to Logan, but his fear had tied him to his bed. Every worst case scenario danced around his room for him to watch helplessly. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Maybe the Others would take him back? Maybe he could just disappear into the imagination? He could probably convince one of the twins to conjure him a nice replica of Sally's tower from Nightmare Before Christmas. A loud knock managed to just get through Virgil’s headphones. “Not now!” Virgil shouted weakly. He was too busy having a crisis to talk to anyone.Whoever it was knocked again. Virgil took off his headphones. “Go away!” He shouted with a bit more strength. “Virgil, it’s Logan.” The knocker announced. Virgil nearly fell off the bed, his chest which had felt hollow seconds before exploded with activity. He couldn’t speak. “We should talk.” Logan said after a minute. Possibilities rushed around quick enough to crack Virgil’s skull. He stood slowly and took a small step towards the door, still silent. “Virgil please, we should both have a chance to be honest about our feelings.” Logan’s stoic voice cracked. Virgil walked up to the door. He knew Logan was persistent, he wouldn’t give up. Virgil rested his head against the door. “I’m scared…” Virgil couldn’t manage any more than that. The doorknob turned and Virgil took a step back. Logan didn’t enter the room, just standing in the doorway. “I think I’m scared too…” Logan said weakly. Virgil looked across the room at his clock. “It’s four pm, shouldn’t you be reading?” Virgil said to try and lighten the mood, it worked as Logan laughed slightly. “Well I never really could fit you into my schedule...” Logan joked. “May I please enter?” Virgil took a step away, signalling for Logan to come in. Stepping across the threshold made it feel real, Logan realised just what he was about to do. Virgil shut the door and stood there awkwardly. Logan turned to face him. “I’m guessing this is about… y’know…” Virgil tried to avoid the word. Logan nodded. “You kissed me…” Logan finished. Virgil bristled at the bluntness. Neither knew what to do, they just stood there. “I’m sorry.” Virgil apologised. He wasn’t sure if it was for the kiss, or the awkwardness. Logan looked over at Virgil’s bed. “Perhaps it would be better if we made ourselves comfortable?” Logan said. Virgil nodded. They both awkwardly walked over, sitting down on opposite sides of the bed. They both stared at the wall across from them, scared to look at the other. Neither could speak. What were they meant to say? Thoughts and fears wrapped around Virgil’s brain, squeezing his brain to say something but nothing came out. Logan looked at Virgil and saw how scared he looked. He had to say something. “Do you think I’m attractive?” Logan asked quickly. Virgil’s head snapped to Logan, his face glowing red. How was he meant to answer that? Why was Logan so calm? Did Logan hate him? Logan hated him. He had ruined everything. He was a terrible person. Logan noticed Virgil’s breaths quicken, his eyes faded in and out of focus. Virgil rocked back and forth slightly, his thoughts couldn’t stop. Logan moved closer as Virgil began pulling at his bangs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Virgil repeated weakly. Logan put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, Virgil didn’t even notice the touch. “It’s okay.” Logan tried to reassure. “Focus on breathing.” Virgil couldn’t hear Logan, his thoughts were too loud. They were blocking out everything, he couldn’t escape. They curled around his throat and blocked out the air. They blocked his eyes in the form of hot stinging tears. They blocked his ears so he could only hear the darkness of his own mind. “I ruined everything. I’m sorry. Fuck.” Virgil kept muttering weakly. Logan got closer again. He pulled Virgil’s hand away from his head so he wasn’t pulling his hair. He put the hand against his chest. ��Virgil, you didn’t ruin anything.” Logan tried to reason with Virgil but could barely scratch at his swirling thoughts. “Please try and breathe with me.” He just needed to get through. Virgil began scratching at his collarbone with the hand Logan wasn’t holding. Logan knelt in front of Virgil and grabbed his other hand, trying to stop any damage. “No no please no.” Virgil kept muttering through heavy breaths. Logan tried to get close enough for Virgil to see but not hit his head. “Virgil you can breathe, just breathe please.” Logan begged. Virgil shook his head. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t. Virgil began shaking his head more violently. Logan’s hands were already taken up. He let go of Virgil’s hands and opted to pull him down into a full embrace, pressing Virgil’s head against his shoulder with one hand and rubbing his back gently with the other. Virgil's arms stuck out weirdly for a moment before grabbing Logan’s shirt. He pulled at the fabric desperately. Not to try and escape but just to get hold of something. Virgil felt the gentle strokes on his back, the only thing that broke through the darkness. He tried to breathe with them. He had to. Logan noticed Virgil’s breaths become a little deeper, he realised he’d somehow gotten through. “Virgil, you're doing great. Keep going, please.” Logan’s voice was a little panicked even though he tried to stay stoic. Virgil kept timing the breaths with the strokes on his back. Slowly they became deeper, then less shaky. Slowly the darkness gave way to a light dizzy feeling from the lack of air. He stopped tugging at Logan’s shirt which was fully untucked at the back now. “I’m sorry…”  Virgil managed weakly, this time less of a worried mumble and more a real apology. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Logan said. Virgil pulled away from Logan, their legs stil knotted together but leaning instead on the bed so he could see Logan. His breaths still laboured. Logan grabbed Virgil’s hand. “I want us to be honest, please. Can you do that?” Logan asked. Virgil nodded slightly. “I will.” Virgil agreed. “But please don’t be mad at me.” Logan pushed some damp hair off Virgil’s face and nodded. Virgil nodded back. Logan thought carefully on what to say. “Can you tell me why you kissed me?” Logan asked. He wanted to know. Virgil did too. He looked away. “I don’t know.” Virgil answered after a beat. “You were close and I got flustered because… I really like you…” Virgil had finally admitted it. Logan’s heart felt weird. “You can ask me something.” Logan said. They both had things they wanted to know, it would be more efficient to take turns. Virgil thought for a moment. “Are you mad at me?” Virgil asked. Logan laughed lightly, he squeezed Virgil’s hand. “Not at all.” Logan reassured. “Did you enjoy kissing me?” Virgil squirmed. “I felt bad for not asking, and I was scared you would hate me.” Virgil answered. “Did you enjoy it?” Logan thought for a moment. It was a very quick kiss, but thinking about it made him smile. “I think I did.” Logan said. “It made me realise I have romantic feelings for you.” Virgil smiled slightly before covering his face with his arm, his chin resting on his knee. Logan felt himself blush. “Can I kiss you again?” Virgil asked quietly. Logan laughed. “I think it was my turn for a question…” Logan joked. He moved Virgil’s arm out of the way and rested his chin on Virgil’s knee too. Their noses touching and their eyes looking deeply into each other's. “Can you kiss me again?” Virgil closed the gap and pressed another quick kiss against Logan’s lips. Another sweet and light peck. They both smiled, absolutely giddy. Virgil put a hand on the back of Logan’s neck, making small circles with his thumb. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” Virgil asked. Logan answered by leaning into another kiss, deeper than the last two. More hurried and warm. They stayed there until they were breathless. “I think I can fit that in my schedule.” Logan breathed happily as they pulled away. “You know I’m not going to stick to it.” Virgil said as he grabbed Logan’s tie, pulling him into another kiss. The world melted away around them, minutes ticked by carelessly. Maybe he didn’t need to schedule everything.

[undercoveravenger]

A Study In Jealousy

Pairing: Mammon x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: I just found your account and i just sat and read all of your oneshots. Your writing style is really good. I was wondering if you could do a Mammon x Male reader where Mammon gets really jealous when the reader starts hanging out with beel

A/N: I may have jumped ahead in my requests for this one, but it’s still his birthday for another hour and a half, so what better day to write for this goofball?

__________________________________________________________

Mammon had never been a stranger to jealousy. He’d grown up coveting the things that other people had and collecting anything that happened to catch his eye. From movies to clothes to cars, Mammon had never been able to resist when he wanted something.

But these days Mammon wasn’t lusting after material items the way he always had. No, the cars and clothes and shiny things had lost their appeal shortly after you had come to the Devildom.

At first he’d been convinced that you were just another stupid human that was in way over their heads, but then you’d tricked him into making a pact with you and even with the ability to make him cave to your whims, you just didn’t. After that, he had found himself increasingly less entertained with his hoard and more and more interested in you.

You had continued making pacts with all of his brothers, and remained close with all of them, which was fine by Mammon.

…Except no, it really wasn’t fine by Mammon that you spent most of your weekends shopping with Asmo or gaming with Levi while Belphie slept, cuddled up beside you with his head on your lap. It wasn’t okay that you spent your afternoons helping Lucifer with student council affairs or doing your homework with Satan and it certainly wasn’t okay that you were currently sitting on the counter in the kitchen talking while Beelezebub rifled through the pantry nearby while you were wearing Beel’s shirt!

“-and then I told Simeon that if he really wanted to know how Lucifer was doing than he should just ask him himself but then-” You cut yourself off as you noticed the snowy-haired demon lingering in the doorway and you grinned brightly, “Oh, hey Mammon! How’s it going?”

It took Mammon a moment to realize that you’d addressed him, still too caught up in the fact that you were wearing someone else’s shirt that wasn’t his and he didn’t like it. “What’s going on here?” he asked, unusually quiet as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You glanced over at his brother, seemingly confused for a moment. “We’re on a snack run?”

“Not what I meant,” Mammon bit out, gaze burning into the oversized t-shirt.

You followed his gaze, mouth dropping open in realization. “Oh, I was going to have a sleepover with Beel and Belphie tonight and I forgot a pajama shirt so Beel gave me one of his...” 

Mammon’s eyes narrowed as you spoke. He knew you’d always been pretty close to the Avatar of Gluttony, but he hadn’t realized that it’d gotten to the point that you were comfortable enough to share clothes without a second thought. Were you… trying to replace him? No, he wouldn’t let that happen.

He shook his head, steeling his resolve. He chanced a look over at his brother and once he was reassured that Beel was still more preoccupied with the food than the two of you, Mammon darted across the kitchen, latched onto your wrist and started pulling you along behind him back to his room, ignoring your protests.

Once he’d gotten the two of you inside, Mammon was quick to release you and headed for his closet. He flipped through articles of clothing at lightning speed, eventually pulling out a few loose t-shirts and moving to stand back in front of you. “Pick one,” he demanded.

You looked between him and the garments clutched in his hands, clearly confused. “Excuse me?”

“Pick one of these,” he repeated, nodding down at the various shirts. “You need to change.”

“Change? Why would I need to…?” You cut yourself off, a small smirk beginning to take its place on your handsome stupid face. “Mammon, were you jealous?”

The demon straightened, stammering indignantly, “J-jealous?! W-why would I, the Great Mammon, be j-jealous?! Don’t be stupid!”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling at his obvious lie. “Mammon, tell me the truth,” you ordered and Mammon winced a little as the pact forced him to comply.

Mammon groaned, averting his eyes as he felt his cheeks begin to heat up. “I don’t like seein’ you in someone else’s clothes. It makes it feel like they’ve got some sorta claim on you an’ I don’t like it. I’m your first guy and that means I’m yours.” He finally forced himself to look up and meet your eyes, “But it means you’re mine too, so I have a right to be jealous when it seems like you spend time with everyone but me!”

You’d just blinked down at him and Mammon knew that he’d surprised you with his outburst. He shook his head and turned away, but he turned back to look at you when he heard you speak. “I’m sorry, Mammon. I didn’t realize you felt that way.” He watched as you pulled out your D.D.D. and tapped out a quick message before shutting it off and setting it on his desk. “I just cancelled with the twins; tonight I’m all yours, okay?”

Mammon hesitated but quickly found himself nodding. “Fine,” he forced himself to say, moving to stand in front of you. “But this still has to go,” he tugged at your shirt, grinning victoriously when you shrugged it off and selected one of the ones from his pile, pulling it on without any complaints.

Once you’d changed (and Mammon had sufficiently blushed enough at the sight of you wearing his shirts), you looked at him uncertainly. “Now what?”

“You owe me for your transgressions, human,” Mammon replied, setting aside the rejected clothing and crossing his arms over his chest as he looked up at you.

You just laughed at him, moving to pull out your wallet. “How much do I owe you, Great Mammon?” you teased.

Mammon could feel his cheeks turning red but he forced himself to answer anyway, “You have to cuddle me all night.” He swallowed hard, “And as a reward, I’ll let you be my boyfriend.”

“You’ll let me, huh?” The wide smile you gave him was more than enough to get Mammon’s heart fluttering in his chest. His grin widened to match yours as you stepped forward to slip your arms around his waist and tug him close enough to kiss him sweetly.

From then on, he knew that, while he still might get jealous, you were his man and he was yours, and there was nothing anyone could do to take that away.

[cno-inbminor]

domus - pt. 3 (final)

a/n: it’s done. oh god it’s done. it’s like 2AM so it’s unedited for now, but i’ll make edits in the morning. i also apologize in advance for the slightly rushed ending fas;elifjac you will need to read parts 1 and 2 (linked below) for context!

plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else.

characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi

wc: ~8k

genre/warnings: angst with teaspoons of fluff; mentions of alcohol and getting drunk

pt. 1 | pt. 2

The grey sheets fail to startle you this time around, granted that it’s been about four days since you first arrived. It’s the constriction of cotton around your body that wakes you up on this Tuesday morning, and your brain can’t fathom why your loose pajamas have suddenly become so uncomfortable. But then the threads tickle the skin of your arms, your legs feel the slight scrape of denim, and your toes have trouble wiggling around due to the constraint of…socks.

Why are you wearing socks to sleep?

Much to your body’s protest, you stumble out of Keiji’s comfortable sheets (note to self: ask him where he got them from) and into the reflection of the body-length mirror in his room. Your vision blurs when all the colors of the rainbow come into place, exploding into a million stars as you lose a bit of your balance. Thankfully, your hand finds purchase against the wall and allows you to regain some stability. It only takes a few seconds, overwhelmingly agonizing as they are, before you can properly assess your current state.

Yesterday’s outfit glares back at you, though much more mussed and wrinkled than you last saw it. Similarly, your hair is in a disarray, hands subconsciously trying to take out any tangles while you can. Knowing the state of cleanliness that Keiji keeps his space in, you feel a wave of regret wash over you for having slept in his bed in air-polluted clothes that must have caught who knows how many germs. Immediately, you move to your suitcase to find something to change into, discarding your current outfit into a large plastic bag that acted as your nomadic hamper. As soon as you’re done, you begin to gather up all the layers of Keiji’s bed, fitted sheet and all, and leaving them on top of the mattress in separate piles by how they should be washed. But while you gather the first bundle into your arms, you take a quick look at the clock, slightly flabbergasted that it’s only a little past 6AM.

In your somewhat frantic attempt to atone for your sins against Keiji’s abode, you failed to notice the lack of sun rays peeking from behind the curtains. And much like you’ve done every day since you showed up, you pull the material back and greet the nostalgic view of Tokyo once more.

But serenity doesn’t come to you. In fact, your heart seems to be weighed down by an unknown anchor. Instinctively, your arms come up to hug yourself slightly, knowing that it’s a feeble attempt at best. The weight gradually mixes with a grasp of suffocation and the feeling closes around your throat. Immediately, you seek a source of fresh air, eyes catching a handle on the window that you somehow missed all these days. This means that Keiji has two separate doors to the balcony, including the one in the living room, and you do your best to quickly yet quietly slide the pane open. As soon as there’s enough space for you to slide through, you practically bound out and lean yourself over the rail of the balcony, lungs taking in deep breaths of oxygen.

Below you, the city has already begun to awaken, pedestrians the size of ants seemingly crawling their away down the street. Faint car honks echo through the city, the occasional train horn blaring louder than the rest. These are sights and sounds you find familiar, and somehow, the unease in your chest settles. Everything seems okay again, and you wonder why it crept up on you so suddenly.

The realization creeps through your veins as you drink in the sight of the SkyTree: you’re not quite ready to leave yet. You don’t think you’re ready to hop on a plane back to Sapporo and back to the apartment that you and Tetsuro spent the last few years building together. Every corner, every nook and cranny of that unit was filled with memories upon memories, mostly good and some bad. And even if you want to think back on them, to be able to look at them and recall the moments fondly, you know that Tetsuro’s unfortunate confession would immediately overshadow all of it. They would just leave you in the same pool of broken bitterness that you originally escaped from.

You still haven’t texted him.

He must be worried sick, you think as your feet drag you back inside and grab your device from the nightstand. You check through your notifications as you step out onto the balcony again, and after a few minutes, your thumb hovers over his conversation thread. A stinging pain courses through your system at the nickname you have set for his contact, and you hate it. You hate how fresh it still feels, completely and utterly frustrated at yourself that part of you still hasn’t let go of him. Why couldn’t you be stronger than this?

But despite your distress, you tap on it and hesitate above the keyboard, trying to think of the right words. Only a few come to your mind, and before you can convince yourself to back out (because you owed him at least this much), your thumbs type out two words and hit the send button, immediately locking it afterwards and sliding it into the pocket of your gym shorts. Out of sight, out of mind, right? He wanted a text of confirmation, you give him a text. That’s all you would allow yourself without crumbling again, and you were trying to put all the Band-aids you could on it.

Undoubtedly, Keiji’s presence helps. It’s easy to not think about Tetsuro when you’re around him, busying yourself with either work emails or recipes that you want to try out. The former doesn’t mind being a guinea pig, as he so kindly put it on Sunday. In fact, he handed you a cookbook from his shelf that had some recipes tabbed with sticky notes, pointing out the ones he thought you might enjoy. Surprisingly, they were all very appealing and to your taste, and part of you wonders if it’s just a mild coincidence. So far, you haven’t messed anything up, and Keiji always finishes his portion with slightly veiled enthusiasm. He knew how much you enjoyed cooking and baking for others, evidence presented by the years of instances when you stopped at their house to drop off your newest creations – so whether or not his compliments were genuine, you took it.

What you don’t know is the number of knowing glances throughout middle and high school that Keiji’s mother would give him as he munched on your edible gifts, pretending to seem unfazed though his eyes adopted a slight twinkle as he ate his fair share. If she could see him now, she’d notice the same shine in them.

Part of you itches to see if Tetsuro read your text message, if he will bother responding. The phone burns in your pocket, but you decide against it, letting it scorch against your thigh as you lean against the rail and watch the sky grow brighter. You miss the carefree mornings like these when you aren’t in a rush to leave the apartment. All that’s really on your mind now is what to make for breakfast, mentally running through all the ingredients that Keiji has.

Today seems like a good day for pancakes.

-

Keiji’s eyes snap open when his phone goes off, mentally groaning when he realized he forgot to turn off the daily alarm he usually sets for going into work. Now that he’s spending a few days at home, there’s been no need to get up so early. He left it on yesterday since they had that early ride on the bullet train, but with all the events that happened last night, he simply forgot.

Keiji sees that his bedroom door remains closed and believes you’re still asleep. But when he stands up to stretch and looks out his balcony windows, he catches a glimpse of your figure through the gap in the curtains. The breeze from the AC slightly causes them to flutter, giving him a better view as he steps around the couch to get a better angle. You look pensive and somewhat defeated, staring out into the open space as the wind from the heights tousles your hair. He wonders if you’ve taken the initiative to let Tetsuro know if you were okay.

At this thought, his eyes are drawn the phone on his coffee table, staring for a few seconds and calculating to see if this is a good idea. Unable to find any issues with it, he steps back to reach for the device. On the off-chance that you did text him, he doubts that you told your boyfriend where you’re staying. Keiji knows that Tetsuro would be worried regardless and perhaps might gain some comfort from knowing that you were staying with a friend. So before he can chicken out, he taps a short text, ignoring the fact that it’s been months since the two had last spoken outside of the group chat Koutaro created for the three of them and Tsukishima.      

The lack of an immediate reply indicates that the former Nekoma captain is either still asleep or busy with his residency. Keiji casts one last look at you, noticing that you haven’t moved in the last few minutes. It seems that you’ll be there for a while and lost in your thoughts. There were only a few times in his life when he had witnessed this faraway look of yours, knowing it was better to leave you alone than to try and rip you out of the reverie. Perhaps he’ll take a chance with breakfast today, a small repayment for the onigiri and juice boxes you bought him on the train.

He thinks you might enjoy having some pancakes.

-

The deafening creak and slide of plastic ripping away from its rubber suction startles you. Much like you did when Keiji first scared you on Saturday morning, you turn to the source of fright with a hand over your pounding heart, staring in disbelief as said man walks out with a tray of food. Though this time, much to your amusement, he looks rather apologetic. The humor quickly morphs into guilt as you notice the two plates of pancakes – just how long had you been standing out here?

In a few steps, you meet him and silently take the tray from his hands, allowing him to close the balcony door. There’s no good place to put it besides the ground, and when Keiji sits next to it – legs stretched out – with his back against the plexiglass, you demurely mimic his movements on the other side of the tray. Without a word, Keiji places his portion onto his lap and grabs his own set of fork and knife. You simply stare at him until he gestures for you to do the same, returning the small smile he gives you. Both of you say your thanks before digging in, and you can’t help but notice how Keiji has drizzled just the right amount of syrup and in the way that you like it.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you,” you apologize after a few bites in. Despite how fluffy and soft they are, the pancakes have a hard time going down your throat. Keiji had also gone through the trouble of making some freshly squeezed orange juice, yet the sip of the beverage doesn’t help much.

“It’s the least I could do after yesterday,” he says softly, and his eyes let you know he really didn’t mind. “Really, you’ve been cooking everything else. I saw a chance and took it.”

“But still—”

“I was more than happy to do it,” Keiji interjects. “It’s my way of saying thanks.”

“…has anyone ever told you that you’re too kind sometimes?” It’s easier to swallow now.

“Bokuto-san has mentioned it a few times,” he replies quickly, staring at you before you both burst out laughing.

From there, conversation flows more smoothly, topics ranging from the MSBY practice session yesterday to what mangas he’s been editing. The pancakes quickly disappear as the sun beams through the clouds, gradually heating up the earth until it was becoming somewhat unbearable in the heat. Keiji sports a light sheen of sweat by the time you two decide it’s wise to go back inside. He takes the tray before you can even think of grabbing it, ushering you to go ahead and shower first while he washes the dishes. As a sign of thanks, you give an affectionate squeeze around his upper arm as you walk past him.

Keiji pretends that his skin isn’t burning from the touch.

Right as he’s placing everything onto the drying rack, his phone rings from the pocket of his sweatpants. He’s not entirely surprised when Kuroo’s name flashes on the screen – after his text, he figured your boyfriend would either message back with lots of question marks or simply call to demand answers. A quick exhale leaves his lungs as he hits the green button and brings the device to his ear.

“Hi Kuroo-san.”

“What do you mean ‘she’s staying with me’?”

Keiji glances in the direction of the bathroom and hears the shower still running. Chances of you eavesdropping or overhearing would be low.

“It’s exactly what I mean. She’s staying with me for the time being.”

“Why you?”

“Honestly, that’s a good question.”

“…wait, so you didn’t know she was coming?”

“She called me when she was at the airport,” Keiji sighs, leaning back against the sink to keep a lookout on the bathroom. “I was just as surprised as you are.”

“You’ve been treating her okay?”

“Of course, what do you take me for?”

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant,” Kuroo groans. “I only have about 10 minutes left in my break. How’s she doing?”

“As well as someone can do when their significant other suddenly tells them they’re not in love with them anymore.”

The silence is deafening over the phone. Keiji didn’t really mean to slip up right then and there, but he couldn’t help the simmering anger rising in his stomach.

“…I’m guessing she told you then.”

“Just last night. I asked when she got here, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. We went to see Bokuto-san yesterday.”

“That would explain the weird text I got from him last night. Did it help?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“That’s good then,” Kuroo sighs into the speaker, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Keiji replies. “Though if you don’t mind me asking…how did it happen?”

“I don’t have a lot of time left so I’ll make it quick. It just – I don’t know, it kinda hit me one morning. I was wondering why I stopped feeling like I needed to get home as soon as possible. Stopped asking for details about her day, or at least nothing more than how it was. I’d forget half the things she was telling me whenever she talked about her job. It was nice coming home to someone after a long shift, but I just…it didn’t feel all that special knowing she was the one waiting for me. I love her like a best friend, just not romantically anymore. She doesn’t deserve to get dragged along because I can’t speak up about my feelings, so I told her. You understand, right?”

Immediately, Keiji wants to say no. No, he doesn’t get it. It’s nearly unfathomable to him that Tetsuro can just slowly stop caring about the things that were important to you. He imagines your figure curled up in bed, anxiously waiting for your boyfriend to come home safely. He imagines you greeting Tetsuro happily, blissfully unaware that the man only kissed your cheek in greeting as a force of habit.

He imagines your face falling little by little as Tetsuro explains himself, your guard failing to mask the anguish you were feeling, and it pains him. Yet his torment at the thought could only be a small fraction of what you experienced – neither was this the time to be heavily biased.

“I don’t have any say in the matter,” Keiji begins and tries to keep his voice as level as possible. “But you know she’s not going to give in to your terms, right?”

“I know it’s not exactly sensible, but I’m trying—”

“Do you really think she’d be happy knowing that?” He nearly hisses into the phone, simply fed up with Kuroo’s stubbornness. “You’ve just told her you don’t love her anymore, insinuating that you’d be happier without her – knowing how much she loves you, do you really think she’d let you force yourself to try for her sake? You know how selfless she is!”

“And I’m trying to give her a chance to be selfish for once – this is on me, and I could at least try! I loved her once, who says I couldn’t love her again? I’ll give her all the time she needs and—"

“If you really cared about her, you would let her go!”

“It’s not that simple!”

Keiji has never wanted to punch someone so bad in his life. “Don’t you understand it’d be nothing but torture for her? Every day, hanging onto some flimsy hope that everything will go back to the way it used to be? There’s a high chance that you’d never feel that way again, so you’re going to let her waste all that time on you? That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Tetsuro knows Keiji’s right. He knows, and he loathes it. His own fear of drastic change caused him to spill all those empty promises to you, simply refusing to acknowledge that his own selfish desires were the demons speaking.

“…I’m glad you’re the one she’s staying with. It’s better than being alone in a hotel for a week.”

“You’re digressing.”

“Let her go, huh?”

“Like I said, if you really cared, then yes. Anything she asks of you, go with it. It’s the least you could do.”

“…I gotta go, my break’s up. Thanks, Akaashi.”

Keiji isn’t doing it for him. “Bye, Kuroo-san.”

Beep.

-

“You cannot leave your room until I let you!”

“(Y/n), what—”

“I need to get groceries and what I’m making is gonna take a really long time, but I’ve been dying to try it and this is the perfect time! I wanna surprise you though.”

“You don’t need to surprise me—”

Keiji’s feet are planted in the entrance of his bedroom door, heels digging into the hardwood as much as they can. After he came out of his shower and grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen, you were pushing him towards his room, words spilling from your lips a mile a minute.

“Please?” You nearly pout when Keiji turns to get a good look at your face. “You said you need to work anyways, right? I’d be much less of a bother if I was doing something else.”

“You know I don’t mind you being in the same room,” he says gently, hoping that he never said anything that could’ve insinuated your presence wasn’t welcome wherever he was. “Company is nice.”

“We have tomorrow for that, it’s just this one time. Plus, I’m washing the bed and the sheets are still in the dryer.”

“You didn’t have to do that – hey, what if I need to go to the bathroom?”

“You have to promise not to peek!”

“(Y/n)—”

“Pinky promise, right now!” You demand, sticking out a pinky in between the two of you. Keiji pretends to be annoyed at your antics, but he can’t help but smile as your two pinkies link together and thumbs come up for a stamp.    

“What if I need to get something to drink?”

“Just let me know and I’ll bring it to you. And no peeking!”

“As I promised, yes.”

“Don’t miss me too much,” you tease, and Keiji can only watch a little despondently as you disappear out the front door. He isn’t looking forward to the same sight that’ll occur in three days, though that time you’ll be lugging a suitcase behind you and potentially leaving for good.

Instantly, the apartment feels too empty. Everything is too quiet again, reminding him why he has a difficult relationship with working from home. Part of him is so used to the hustle and bustle of the manga company that the silence in an empty home somehow feels wrong. And now that some liveliness has been thrown into the mix, painting his abode with splashes of gentle hues, the void feels even more foreign.

You’ll be back within an hour. He just has to bear with it for that short time frame – there’s a decent pile of work waiting for him anyways.

It might be a good time to start practicing being alone again as well.

-

With determination, Keiji throws himself into his work, only stopping every couple of hours to lean back into his chair and rub his eyes. His little energy bursts come in various forms: when you first came back and greeted, “I’m home!” through his bedroom door, whenever you come in to refill his cup of water, when you come in with two plates of sandwiches          during lunch time, and when you bring him some tea as a change of pace in the afternoon. Every gesture is strongly appreciated, and he wishes he could help you in the kitchen.

(He tries to ignore how domestic everything feels. It’s a sensation he finds himself getting drunk on, the bliss encasing his nerves with a pleasant numbness.)

Keiji broadcasts a bit of his work to you, talking you through his process and the things he looks out for when editing. With you, he doesn’t have to worry about leaking spoilers – in fact, you look more enraptured with his set-up than anything. He enjoys the awe and childlike wonder that cloud your face. It’s a far cry from the ruminative expression from this morning, and Keiji hopes that he’ll never have to see that face again.

Always a man of his word, he stays in his bedroom while you finish making dinner. Based on the smell and distinct sound of something being seared in a hot pan, Keiji gathers there’s meat involved. Earlier, his food processor had been going as well, though he couldn’t exactly place why it sounded like you were beating something against the counter. You might have been butchering something, meaning there was meat involved. But he knows his curiosity will be pleasantly sated and bides his time with mindless YouTube videos.

There’s a quiet knock on his door before it opens, revealing your slightly exhausted frame. Concern washes over him as his eyes frantically assess your current state, flitting around until he spots where your hand seems to be cradling the other. It could only mean one of two possible scenarios, and without a word, he grabs the medicine box from his closet in search of the burn ointment. You begin to try and explain what happened, but before you can even say that you accidentally touched one of racks in the oven with the back of your wrist, you spot the little tube between Keiji’s fingers and fall silent. His eyebrows furrow as he approaches you, standing no more than a couple of centimeters away from you as he finds the burn and begins to apply the balm.

“You should’ve let me help,” he says quietly, regret laced through the words. His lithe fingers hesitate over the mark, hoping that the salve was applied quickly enough to prevent any potential blistering.

“This is nothing,” you try to soothe him. “I was just lost in thought and didn’t realize that my arm was getting a little too close. What matters most is that I still saved the dinner.”

Keiji shakes his head and releases his hold. “That’s not the most important at all. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can help you with?”

“You can help me by waiting here for another 15 minutes until I tell you to come out.”

“You know that’s not—”

“Keiji,” you firmly interject. Your hands grasp one of his, clenching around them to let him know it was okay. The small burn was no one’s fault but yours, and there was no need for him to feel guilty. “I’m okay, really. All the hard parts are over now, I just need to let something cool down and set up the table.”

The man before you releases a defeated sigh and you let go of his hand. Instantly, he misses the warmth and subconsciously flexes his hand in some strange attempt to retain the heat running through his fingers. “Call for me if you need any help, okay?”

“Of course.”

Once more, you exit his room and close the door behind you. He takes this time to stand by and stare out his balcony doors, watching the sun slowly sink below the horizon. A warm, orange glow fills his room as Keiji turns to look at his freshly washed bed, remembering the way you had scuttled in with an armful of linen and batted him away repeatedly from trying to help. He pictures the way you would curl up in sleep, imagining once again just how nice it would be to wake up together with the Tokyo sunrise.

“Dinner’s ready,” your voice calls out from behind him, stealing him away from his daydream. He makes his way around the bed to meet you where you demand him to close his eyes. The skeptical look causes you to laugh as you continue to goad him.

“I’ll make sure you don’t bump into anything, promise.”

“If I so much as nudge a table with my big toe, I will kick you out.”

“So dramatic,” you scoff and roll your eyes. “Come on, please?”

Giving in to your requests seems second nature now, he realizes as his eyes slip shut, relying on nothing but the gentle hold you have on his hands and the sound of your voice. You do well in warning him about any possibility he might bump into something and Keiji’s trust in you solidifies – hell, they could be on the outskirts of an exploding volcano and he’d let you drag him around with a blindfold on. He can feel the nervousness rolling off you as you sit him down in his chair, hurriedly taking the seat across from him and adjusting yourself. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”

Keiji has to blink a few times to refocus his vision and chooses to ignore the way your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip for the plate in front of him. Two slices of beef wellington sit elegantly on the white porcelain, a glass of red wine in the top corner, and a set of a knife and fork on opposite sides. It looks straight out of a cookbook and he loves that you were right – he would be pleasantly surprised, and your hard work would certainly pay off.

But what makes the smile on his face form is the memory of you two discussing different cooking shows on the walk home from school one evening. You had asked him out of the blue if he watched anything cooking-related, and when he had listed some of the channels he watched from time to time, you rattled off a list of things you wanted to try making some day but never could with time constraints. Beef wellington had been one of those items, as well as a croquembouche, Totoro macarons, and others.

“Did you finally get to live out your Great British Bake Off dreams with the puff pastry?” Keiji jokes, lifting his utensils and beginning to cut through the meat. At his question, he realizes you must’ve been pounding out the slab of butter to be used when making puff pastry from scratch.

“That, and try to channel Gordon Ramsay for everything else,” you chuckle and watch him carefully as he chews on his first bite.

“This is really good, holy shit,” he murmurs and relief floods your system. “Are you sure this is your first time making it?”

“Yep!”

“I’m gonna have to get seconds later,” Keiji says, still slightly suspended in disbelief. You’re practically shaking in your seat from how well received the dish is.

“Try to save some room for the dessert wine later.”

“Oh, you bought some?”

“Yeah, they had the brand we like at the supermarket.”

“What’s the occasion?”

You ponder on that for a bit, trying to find the right words for it. What he didn’t know was that you caught the last half of his conversation on the phone with Tetsuro. At first, you felt a flare of anger when you put the pieces together and realized that Keiji had ratted out your location, almost storming out of the bathroom to give him a piece of your mind. But when you heard him defend and stand up for you, you faltered, hand hovering over the doorknob. Once again, he was holding your best interests at heart and risking potentially fraying his friendship with Tetsuro for you. It was exactly the kind of support you needed in that moment.

So you do what you’ve always done to show gratitude when it comes to Keiji: make something edible for him. In middle and high school, you felt that food was the least awkward thing you could give to him if he did something for you, considering that you felt you two weren’t very close. Permanent gifts were a touch too intimate, and you could always hide the fact that you were gifting him something under the pretense of wanting to give it to his mother instead. Any batch of cookies, muffins, palmiers, or pastries were mainly meant for him, saying thanks for walking home with you, driving you home, entertaining you during get-togethers, letting you win in Monopoly for once, and many more. That was something you originally planned to take to your grave since you figured that Keiji would find it weird or disturbing, but now…now seemed okay.

Just not this exact moment.

“To a new beginning,” you decide and lift up your glass, angling it towards him for cheers.

“To a new beginning,” he echoes. Keiji clinks his glass against you and you both take a sip, his eyes glimmering over the rim.

-

You are very tipsy. Borderline drunk. You honestly can’t remember the last time you got wine drunk, but somehow you just couldn’t stop drinking. If you had to give your best estimate, about 70% of the red wine had been consumed by you. And now that the dessert wine was open, you were nearing 60% of that as well.

Keiji sits on the opposite side of the couch from you, indulging you by letting you watch Ouran High School Host Club through some streaming service on his TV. It had been ages since he last saw anything from it, though he mainly focuses on your how far your inebriation is getting ahead of you. An hour ago, he had placed a cup of water by your side, though there was still half of it left. He wonders if he should be cutting you off soon, but you look too carefree and happy. And from experience, he knows that you could easily walk in a straight line if told to. It was an uncanny ability that you possessed, one that was somewhat showcased when you and Tetsuro showed up at a house party in college he just happened to also attend. Smashed overexaggerated your drunken state at the time, but the glossy look in your eyes now was very similar to that incident all those years ago.

The laugh that erupts from your chest as a result of Haruhi’s deadpan humor is slurred and lasts a little too long to be considered normal. Keiji feels his chest ease up when you reach for the water this time instead of the alcohol and chug it all down. He freezes when you turn towards him with a lazy smile spread across your face, but it turns into a pout when you hand him the now empty mug.

“Keiji-kun,” you mumble. “Please gimme more water?”

“You can’t get it yourself?” He taunts, chuckling when your pout intensifies.

“I don’t wanna acci-acc-accid-accidentally break the mug. You brought it from your parents’, right? I used this one all the time back then.”

“Mmm,” he hums, prying the porcelain from your hands and standing to comply with your request.

Not even a minute passes after he returns when you clumsily shift closer to him. He doesn’t even have to time to internally gasp when you lay down on your back and plop your head onto his thighs, his arms now slightly suspended in the air because he honestly has no idea what to do with them. The best he can come up with is resting one arm on the back of the couch, the other tentatively placed on top of your head. He fights the need to run his fingers through your hair, although knowing it would bring you some comfort as the world begins to blur. It takes everything in him to not look down, but he’s not absorbing anything from the anime. The sounds fall short to the pounding in his ears, and the only time he can remember being this nervous was their last volleyball match during Nationals.

“Thank you, Keiji.”

“Hm? For what?”

“…sticking up for me to Tetsu.”

“…didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?” Keiji attempts to digress, pinching the shell of your ear.

“It hurts!” You cry out, overstating the pain you felt. In his defense, he barely put any force behind it. “I just wanted to say thank you, ‘s all.”

“It was nothing, I—”

“You really think we’re friends?”

Keiji frowns. “I said that before, didn’t I? Did you ever think we weren’t?”

“Honestly…no, I didn’t,” you confess. It’ll be a miracle if you remember any of this tomorrow morning. “You always seemed so far away…there were a few times when I thought you maybe hated me, only tolerated me because you’d never hear the end of it from your mom if she ever caught you being mean to me. I mean, if you ever think about it…you never talked about yourself, y’know?”

Keiji pauses the TV, throwing the apartment into complete silence. He only hears your shaky breathing and the AC running.

“Anything I ever heard about you was from your mom because she’d tell my mom, and then my mom would gossip,” you continue, chuckling bitterly at the end. “I knew you, but did I really know you? It felt so weird, walking by you in school and knowing what you were struggling with. But then you’d just smile at me like nothing was wrong and that hurt.”

He’s been staring at the same frame for the last minute or so and feels more and more awful with every word that leaves your lips. Somehow it’s everything he’s wanted to hear for years, but it’s also so bittersweet and tragic. But the more important matter currently at hand is the sound of your sniffles. Oh god, are you crying? Keiji finally has a reason to look at you now, studying how a forearm is strewn across your eyes – but he can see the tear tracks and feel the dampness on his sweatpants as they slide down your face. He attempts to move the limb away but you resist as much as you can, though it doesn’t take much. Keiji reaches over and plucks out a tissue to help clean you up, trying to placate both you and the semblance of a heartbreak.

“I was always worried that you were just – hic – hiding your emotions, bottling them up inside until it’d burst one day. But then I had to – hic -- remind myself that you had other close friends to confide in. With how much you got along with your teammates, I figured they’d keep an eye on you…but I still worried a lot. I hoped that you’d finally open up during our family dinners someday. Instead, it took a break-up and me getting drunk.”

He’s frozen when you lift your hand to his face, the tips of your fingers barely ghosting over his jawline. The anguish in your eyes is palpable; he can’t help but broaden the contact, leaning into your palm until it’s cradling his cheek while maintaining eye contact with you.

“You were okay, right?” You whisper. “You could talk to Koutaro? Or Akinori?”

Keiji’s gaze softens considerably. He analyzes the drooping of your eyelids, how they fight to stay open until you receive a desirable answer from him. It’s incredibly touching how much you wanted to reach out to him during all those years, waiting, wishing, hoping. You were right – he did expose some of his more vulnerable moments to his teammates. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t have days where he ached to call you and spill every negative emotion he was feeling.

“I was okay, I promise,” Keiji reassures you, giving in to comb through your hair. “Thank you, (y/n), for caring about me.”

Your arm slowly drops from its hold and curls up against your chest. Even in your drunken state, you feel at peace, like the world has finally been lifted from your shoulders. It’s the answer that you’ve been silently searching for all this time, the unknown stewing and festering in the back of your mind.  

“I’m…glad…”

Keiji observes as you fall asleep and your breaths even out. With a heavy sigh, he gathers you into his arms bridal-style, hoping that the jostling doesn’t wake you up. Just like last night, he tucks you into bed, though not without leaving a gentle press of his lips against your temple.

The futon is cold and lonely. He’s really starting to not like it very much.

-

Wednesday and Thursday fly by so fast that he wonders if he accidentally time-traveled into Friday. Before he knows it, you’re rolling your suitcase out of his bedroom and towards his front door. As you slip on your shoes, your mind rattles off the locations of your important things: phone, wallet, keys, passport, driver’s license, and more. You turn back to look at your gracious host, shooting him your most appreciative smile.

“Thank you for everything this past week, Keiji. You don’t know how much it means to me, and I promise I’ll pay you back somehow.”

“I was happy to have you, and you’ve done more than you needed to in trying to pay me back. Are you sure you don’t need me to drop you off at the airport?”

“I couldn’t impose on you any longer,” you wave off. “An Uber will do just fine.”

“You’ll let me know when you’re there? When you get back to your apartment?”

“Yes, mother,” you poke fun at him, laughing at the way he rolls his eyes.

“I’ll let that one pass for now. Remember, you can call me anytime, okay? About anything, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll remember that. See you around then?”

“See you around. Be safe.”

Neither of you make a move, not until Keiji steps forward to wrap you in a tight embrace. You do your best to return it ounce of ounce, bundling the back of his shirt in your fists. The last seven days have been pivotal to your friendship and you’ll never forget everything he’s done for you. Minutes pass, neither wanting to pull back until you can’t anymore, needing to meet the Uber outside. Keiji doesn’t have the heart to walk you all the way to the main entrance of the apartment complex, and you don’t force him.

Sitting in the airplane back to Sapporo is much less nerve-wracking than you originally predicted. You already have a list in mind of how to clear things out with Tetsuro, what steps you two need to take to make this split as seamless as possible. Various apartment listings had been bookmarked over the last couple of days, units big enough for just one person rather than two. The wound is still somewhat fresh, but scabs have already begun to form. You have Keiji to thank for in this process of healing.

As promised, you update him whenever you can, the final notice sent when you stand outside the door of your and Teturo’s apartment. It’s impossible for the nerves to not strike you now, even more so as you slowly unlock the door. The work shoes to the side of the doorway indicates that he is home, probably passed out in bed after a long shift. You quietly pad around the unit while putting some of your stuff away, though leaving the suitcase in the living room for now. When you step into the bedroom, Tetsuro is curled up on your side of the mattress, breathing deeply and soundly.

Two months ago, you would have peppered his face with kisses, demanding that he give you enough room to cuddle next to him. He would have opened his arms willingly, trapping you effectively in his new cage and you would’ve never thought of wanting to escape from him. So much has changed now, you think as you sit on the edge. You believe your action was subtle, but he stirs from his asleep, addressing the fact that you have returned. There is no screaming or crying, no tears or pleading. Instead, he shifts closer to give you an awkward hug around your waist while still laying on his side. It’s not the kind of hug that says, “Welcome home,” or “I miss you”, though.

It says, “I’m sorry,” and the placement of your hand on his embrace replies, “It’s okay.”

-

2 years later

Keiji likes this new routine with you.

For the last year and a half, you two schedule a weekly video call to catch up with each other. He likes this because he can watch you pull yourself together, adjust to the new life without Tetsuro. He gets to hear all the work stories that the other stopped bothering to pay attention to, no longer waiting for your next Snapchat or Instagram story update. Keiji’s at the friendship level now where he knows something has happened before you even post the photo. Sometimes you both cook together, finding a recipe that you’ll want to try. Other times you might just want to watch an episode or two of a show that’s caught both of your interests, swearing to each other that you’ll avoid spoilers or watching ahead.

It’s not the kind of relationship he truly wants with you, but it’s close enough and he’d be a fool to not take it.

Last week, you had to miss the video call, saying that your boss dropped a massive project onto your desk. You were going to be pulling overtime, and Keiji reminds you to take the necessary breaks. Texting is sparse and he feels the worry exponentially grow – were you pushing yourself too hard? Were you eating foods other than convenience store bentos and onigiris? Were you getting enough sleep at night?

His phone blares your custom ringtone from his kitchen counter and Keiji practically lunges for it, quickly picking up and holding the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

What is this feeling of déjà vu?  “I was about to start cooking something up just now, why? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was so busy, I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk last week. What about you?”

“I’m good, everything’s normal. Where are you?”

“I’m on my way home. By the way, I bought you a gift. They said it got delivered not a few minutes ago.”

“Really? That’s weird, the front desk usually notifies me as soon as they get it. But you shouldn’t have.”

“Consider it an early birthday present,” he hears and relishes in the warmth your words bring. “Why don’t you go downstairs and check?”

“I guess I can. Stay on the phone with me?”

“Of course.”

“What’d you get me?”

“What’s the point in me telling you when you’re about to open it in a few minutes?”

“Well,” Keiji starts and wrenches open the door. “I—”

He stops in his tracks, voice caught in his throat. You stand sheepishly before him, phone still at your ear as you drink in his stunned expression. Keiji doesn’t get taken by surprise very often, and you wish you had a camera for this moment. Koutaro would’ve loved it.

“Hey there,” he hears from you and through the speaker, a slight delay between the two phrases as his mind grasps at the situation.

“Why are you here?” He asks, hanging up and letting you in. Keiji hopes it doesn’t sound as rude as it might’ve come across. Like a gentleman, he takes your jacket and allows you enough space to take off your shoes.

“They’re doing renovations at my new apartment so I can’t really move in yet…I was wondering if I could stay here for a few days?”

Wait, new apartment? “Are you moving back to Tokyo?”

Excitement isn’t enough to describe the pure feeling of joy that runs through his veins when you nod. This is what you must have been so busy dealing with, packing everything up and scheduling a small moving van. All you have is your purse and a large suitcase, meaning that the rest of your belongings must still be en route.

“You can stay for as long as you need to. Take the bed, I can—”

“Actually, I lied. Not about moving to Tokyo,” you quickly defend when he seems to bristle at your words. “There aren’t any renovations and the rest of my stuff is coming tomorrow…but I purposely booked a ticket to get here today. You’re the first person I wanted to see.”

Not your parents, not some of your other friends. Him. You wanted to come and see him first before anyone else. The tone in your confession holds so much weight, a fondness in them that’s too intimate for someone who was just a friend. This was your way of trying to let him know that there was something more going on, but you were afraid that he would reject you. The ball was in his court now, and it was entirely up to him to decide how to proceed.

No one knows you better than him. No one is in tune or in sync with you as much as he is. It’s terrifyingly thrilling, but you want this. You want him.

So he takes one stride forward, cradles your face between his hands, and crashes his lips onto yours with a searing passion that’s been kept under lock and key for far, far too long. It’s perfect, you smile to yourself. But most of all…

It feels like home.

Bonus (a week later):

[Konoha]: hey, kou, is keiji dating anyone????

[Bokuto]: not that I know of??? why???

[Konoha]: apparently he just rsvp’d to my wedding and said he’s bringing a plus one??? i’m so confused, why wouldn’t he tell us??

[Bokuto]: did your fiancée see a name anywhere?

[Konoha]: hang on, she’s checking.

[Konoha]: oh shit.

[Konoha]: OH SHIT.

[Konoha]: HOLY FUCKING SHIT WHAT THE FUCK

[Bokuto]: WHO IS IT YOU BETTER TELL ME RIGHT NOW

[Konoha]: HE’S BRINGING FUCKING (Y/N) JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

[Bokuto]: ABOUT GODDAMN TIME

[Konoha]: YOU OWE ME 5000 YEN, PAY UP

[mochegato]

Pixie Spy

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

 Adrien was resting lightly on the hotel couch as he waited for Marinette and Constantine to return from their mission.  It probably would have been wiser to just wait until the morning to check on Marinette but he wanted to be available to leave immediately in case something happened.  Plus he wanted to see Constantine before he went home so he could make sure they all agreed on the next steps.  Which led to his current position in their base of operations, covered in popcorn from an overturned bowl, in front of a table full of caffeinated drinks that hadn’t been as effective as he was hoping, the credits for the latest movie in his movie marathon rolling by on the television, and Plagg snoring loudly atop the overturned bowl.

Their Base of Operations was a penthouse room in Le Grand Paris Hotel next to Chloe’s room.  She had convinced her Daddy she needed to have the extra room so she could have a gym and meditation area nearby. After all, was she really expected to share a gym with other people and their germs?  Did he have no concern for her health at all!  Did he want her to get sick?  And with the whole Hawkmoth situation, she needed to meditate to relieve stress.  Did he really think there was any way she could relax sharing a meditation area with other people!?  Stressed people had trouble focusing in school. Did he want her to fail out of school?  Did he want her to be stressed out and stress eat?  To be sick and unhealthy and uneducated and miserable and get AKUMATIZED?  Again? Is that really what he wanted for his only daughter?  

The speed at which he caved was a personal best for Chloe and will forever be used by the team as a measure of speed, “yeah, that was fast, but not like meditation room fast”.  And if the room she selected just so happened to have a balcony the heroes could use to swing in on and an extra bed they could use to collapse into after a tough fight and gym mats that could be used for sparring and a fully stocked refrigerator and pantry with the snacks the kwamis liked best and soundproofed walls (I mean honestly how was Chloe supposed to be expected to meditate in an unsoundproofed room?), it’s not really anyone else’s concern, now is it.

However, after hours of watching bad movies, the resolve he had earlier in the night of staying up until they returned had waned and he had involuntarily drifted off to sleep.  It was almost sunrise and not long after that was when he would normally wake up for the day. Thankfully, he didn’t have anything scheduled for the day to ‘work on a large project’ with Chloe all day, so he would be able to sleep in and try to catch up.  But as it was, he was running on almost no sleep for about 24 hours, after a full week of late nights and early mornings preparing for tonight, and consequently he was a little out of it.  So perhaps he should be excused for having a very loose grip on reality at the present moment.  

As soon as the portal opened behind his couch, he bolted up sensing the change in pressure more than reacting to any actual sound and immediately collapsed back on the couch when the sudden rush of blood made him dizzy. He blinked heavily as he watched Marinette and Constantine walk through the portal.  He kept his focus on the portal behind them, mesmerized by the shimmering waves it created and still trying to get his hazy brain to focus on the present even after the portal had closed.  He rubbed his eyes and squinted, still not sure if he was dreaming or conscious or if the two were bleeding together.  “Is that… did you bring me a cat?” he asked in an uncertain voice still trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“A what?” Marinette asked whipping around.  “Oh for God’s sake.  Seriously, cat.  You’re not allowed to eat the kwamis,” she chastised the cat who dutifully ignored her and jumped onto the coffee table in front of Adrien to get a better look at the new kwami he had discovered, knocking over a few of Adrien’s drinks along the way.

Constantine huffed out a single laugh and tossed a cigarette into his mouth as he made his way toward the balcony, “Persistent little bugger. Good luck with that.  I’m going out for a smoke.”

The cat cocked his head to the side and stared at the kwami. He cautiously raised his paw toward him as if to bat at him and started making chirping noises at him.  When Plagg didn’t respond to the chirping, the cat moved a few steps closer to the black cat kwami and tried meowing at him.

“Back off fleabag,” Plagg hissed eyeing the infiltrator hostilely, “there’s already one cat here and I don’t share.”

“Only one?” Tikki asked amused.

“He doesn’t count his isn’t a real cat,” Plagg spluttered out motioning towards Adrien.

“Neither are you,” Adrien pointed out blithely.

Plagg flew into Adrien’s face to glare at him, “Look here you little…”

“Relax Plagg, I’m sending him back now,” Marinette interrupted rolling her eyes.  “Voyage,” she called out picturing the Batcave and moving her arm to create a much smaller, cat sized portal she could push their stowaway through.  She attempted to pick up the cat, but he apparently had other ideas.  He twisted smoothly out of her hands, struggling to stay near the kwami. “Ugh,” Marinette grunted after a few more failed attempts, “Stop being a liquid!” she ordered the cat who continued to ignore her, but still rubbed against her legs on his way past her.  “Tikki, Trixx, can you help out here?” she asked exasperated.

“Sure thing,” Trixx chirped and Trixx and Tikki flew around the cat’s head, gaining his attention.  Once they were sure the cat was paying attention to them and willing to follow their movements, they both flew toward the portal at top speed, splitting up just before going through the portal.  The cat raced after them but wasn’t quick enough to change his direction in time to avoid the portal.  His momentum and Marinette’s well timed push caused him to slide through the portal.  As soon as he was through, Marinette closed the portal, sealing him on the other side.  They may be data thieves, but they were not cat thieves and she was not in the mood to deal with Plagg’s territoriality.

Marinette called off her transformation and collapsed into a large arm chair, letting out a long, tired sigh as she pulled off her shoes and tossed them on the floor.  She rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, trying to meld with the chair and become one.  She was ready for this night and this mission to be over.  She didn’t even want to check that they got the data, she just wanted to go to sleep and never think about this night or blue eyes ever again. The gala was the past.  It had no place in her future.  Except that after all the information she had so stupidly shared both in the cave and at the gala, to a member of the Batfamily at that, they could definitely expect an immanent visit from the Batfamily and they would have to be prepared for that.

Adrien glanced over at Marinette amused at her exhaustion. He hoped her exhaustion was due to her having fun at the gala.  Maybe she had met someone, at least for the night.  Or maybe she had been able to network a bit.  With the dress she had… his eyes widened as he suddenly noted her dress. That wasn’t what her dress looked like when she had left.  That wasn’t a good sign.  She was in the escape plan version of the dress, the shit-went-to-Hell version of the dress.  It was supposed to be a last resort option.  Well shit… On the bright side, that version of the dress was a lot more appealing and would have gotten more attention, so she might have gotten something out of the night after all.  He shook his head and plastered on a fake smile, “So, how did it go?  Was the mission a success?”

Marinette opened one eye to glare at him, the effect of which he thought was quite impressive considering she was only using one eye, honestly.  “How did it go?” she repeated back to him in a belligerent tone opening both eyes to fully glare at him.  “How did it go?  How do you think it went?” she asked moving her hands up and down over her body indicating her dress.

“It looks like you got to show off that amazing design.  So… any commissions?  Get any phone numbers?  Get the data?” He tried again still with a forced optimism.

“Oh he got the data alright,” her voice was dripping in false sweetness before switching to venom.  “From the batcomputer in the Batcave as he was stealing it from Batman.” She replied intentionally avoiding the commission question because like hell was she going to hand him that win.  

“What?!” Adrien exclaimed in shock.

“Yeah, that was the mission.  Keep eyes on Batman while Constantine stole from him.”

“But you were supposed to keep an eye on the Waynes…”he commented confused.

“Exactly,” she confirmed with an acerbic smile.

“Wait… what!  Bruce Wayne is Batman!!” he jumped up off the couch.

“Yep” she said popping the p.

“Shit,” he ran his hand over his face and collapsed back on the couch.

“That was roughly my response as well but with a lot more hostility and cursing.”

“But, I don’t understand… doesn’t he know Batman? Haven’t they worked together before? Why would we have to go through all of this if it was his friend?” his brain was still waking up and this was a lot to process and clearly his brain was not ready to do so.

“That is an excellent question my young Padawan,” she stood up moving closer to him.

“I’m older than you,” he interrupted with an annoyed look, but Marinette continued on ignoring him.

“And who does Constantine avoid at all costs?”

Adrien thought about it.  They didn’t know Constantine extremely well, but they had managed to get a pretty good feel for him, “Legal authorities, debt collectors, his exes…”

“Exactly,” she interrupted “and since he doesn’t consider Batman a legal authority based on having worked with him before, and he doesn’t owe him money…”

“Oh my God!!  He was screwing Batman!”

“It would seem so,” she nodded picking up one of the drinks on the table and contemplating the benefits of drinking it vs just saying fuck it and going to bed now.

“All that stuff we did?  All that prep work, all that studying, the planning, the stress, the lost sleep, it was all because he wanted to avoid his ex?” Adrien needed clarification on this because they had gone through a lot in the last few weeks, unnecessarily so if that was true.  Why had they allowed Constantine to help them again?

“He wanted to avoid him but get him involved with us.  He figured this little undercover operation would achieve both.”

“Wait, how was you going to the Gala supposed to help?”

“Oh that’s another brilliant part of this clusterfuck of a night.  The whole ‘stay undetected’ proviso was a fake out.  The entire point was to get noticed.  That’s why he sent me instead of you.”

“But, I’m famous so me going would have done that better.” Adrien couldn’t figure out if none of this made sense because his brain was still turned off or if it really didn’t make any sense, but Marinette’s reaction seemed to confirm that it wasn’t just him that was struggling with this.

“He didn’t just want us to get noticed, he wanted one of the bat boys to get invested, and he thought that was more likely if it was me rather than you.  Apparently I look a lot more pathetic than you, so I worked better in his little plan,” she grumbled before smirking at him.  “Personally, I think he vastly underestimated your ability to flirt and apparently the oldest brother is something of a slut so you could have possibly gotten a date out of it or at least a make out session.  You should talk to him about that.”

Adrien stared at her as she ranted, trying to process everything she was telling him.  One phrase caught his attention though, “which one is the oldest one again? Is he the one with the hair and the eyes and the…” he motioned toward his shoulders trying to indicate broad shoulders and firm body, “the gymnast?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” she nodded.

“Shit.” Adrien looked dejected.  But turned back to her with a rakish smile.  “So did his plan work?  Did one of them ‘invest’ in you?”

“Not in me… ugh” she fell onto the couch.  “So, on top of everything else, the brother we thought was dead?  He’s very much alive.  A wonderful fact which Constantine knew and I discovered WHILE I WAS DANCING WITH HIM! I mentioned the Hawkmoth situation to him in a very vague way before I knew who he was, which I would never have done if I’d known who he was, and I would have known if Constantine had fucking TOLD us about him.” She shouted toward the balcony.  

“So…” Adrien prompted her.

“He seemed invested in stopping people getting hurt when I ran out, not in me.” She clarified, though whether she was trying to convince herself or him, she wasn’t sure.

“… you were dancing with him?” Adrien cocked his head to the side and gave her a smirk.  “How closely were you dancing, exactly?”

“It wasn’t… that’s not how… It wasn’t like that. I was using him as a cover to get onto the dancefloor to observe the Waynes.” She floundered, her cheeks starting to turn pink as she forced down the ‘not close e-fucking-nough’ that wanted to break out.

“Don’t let her lie to you like that,” Constantine said coming back into the room.  “She and Jason were getting cozy.”

“You were not there.  We were NOT getting cozy,” she lied through her teeth, pointing a threatening finger towards him.  And they certainly hadn’t been as cozy as she would have liked, so it isn’t really a lie, only kind of a lie.

“How cozy were you getting?  Should I start planning a shovel talk?” Adrien grinned, enjoying every second of this.

Marinette sputtered at him, her blush turning darker, “This is not about my non-existent love life, this is about Constantine’s fucked up sex life. It is about him going though all this so he could avoid having to talk to his ex.  He could have just asked Wayne for the information if he wasn’t so focused on his stupid little lover’s spat.”

“It wasn’t a lover’s spat.” Constantine corrected offended by the suggestion.

“Just a prank on your boyfriend then?” Marinette hissed at him, “at the expense of our time and Parisians’ sanity.”

“He isn’t… we aren’t…  I have never and will never sleep with Batman.  God, of all the vigilantes to suggest… I mean not the worst but not even when drunk and desperate.”

“You’ll screw a shark but not a bat?” Adrien asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Okay, first I didn’t screw a shark, I got screwed by a shark, a lot. There is a difference.  I highly recommend it actually... well maybe not to you two sunshine children… but the loud, blonde one seems like she might be into having fun.”

Adrien made a gagging sound and Marinette turned away quickly, shuddering and closing her eyes against the thought of Chloe and… anything. She didn’t want to think about Chloe doing anything with anyone.  “I think I need to scrub my brain with bleach.”

“Second,” Constantine continued on, pretending he wasn’t enjoying their reaction to his statement, that it wasn’t the exact reaction he was trying to illicit, “ew.  Too much drama involved.  And, I’d still like to know how you found out about that anyway.”

Marinette looked over to Adrien to answer but noticed he was completely lost in thought, probably still trying to think of something to take his mind off of Chloe before glancing over to Plagg.  Plagg looked up from the pillow he had settled on and shrugged, “you smell like fish.”

Adrien cocked his head to the side still deep in thought. “So… does that make him a Furry?”

“What the hell, Adrien!  Is that really the focus here?” Marinette exclaimed hitting him on the shoulder.  She was desperate to stop thinking about Chloe but Constantine doing anything with anyone was not an improvement over that.  On the bright side, she wasn’t thinking about the gala anymore but God, at what cost?

“I mean, sharks don’t have fur so… finny?” he said still looking at nothing while he thought through the implications.  “But furry is a reference to their skin and shark skin is made up of denticles, really tiny scales, so… scaly?  No, that doesn’t sound nice.  ‘Furry’ sounds cute, being into non-mammals should get a cute name too. Yeah, finny is definitely better. But since, a bat is a mammal, sleeping with the bat would’ve made him a furry.  So he’s a finny, not a furry.” He said with a nod, proud of himself for working that out.

Marinette stared at him incredulously and ran a hand over her face, “Never has your scientific experience been more inappropriately utilized.”

“Oh no, you don’t know the conversations Red Cap, Glasses, Skater Girl, Monkey Boy, and he have.  It gets much more inappropriately utilized and quite often.” Plagg said with an evil grin.

“You’re both wrong.  Furry refers to people in costumes meant to evoke an animal.  One really is a shark and the other isn’t trying to actually look like a bat so neither qualify, if we’re getting technical.” Constantine said leaning against the arm chair, arms folded over his chest. “As much as I like to discuss people’s sexual proclivities, is that really what you want to discuss before I leave? No better questions you want to focus on before I go?”

Marinette was almost grateful for him voicing his concern and changing the topic.  Almost. Because she knew his concern wasn’t with staying on topic.  The waste that the last two weeks were stood as testament to that fact.  He didn’t care about wasting time.  He had a point he wanted to make and he wanted their attention for it.  

She wanted to get mad at him.  She wanted to lecture him, but everything about this night was messy and frustrating and aggravating and it was all his fault so he didn’t get a pass even if she knew he was trying to help.  At this point in the night… morning?  God it was so late.  At this point in the morning, she just wanted to drop it and let sleep wash away the night and the memories.  Thankfully, she had Adrien.  And Adrien takes Parisian suffering just as personally as she does.

Adrien looked at Constantine in feigned naïve confusion, “What did you want to focus on?  How you made us unwitting accomplices to stealing from a superhero?  How we are now on the Justice League’s radar as possible villains?  How you lied to us the entire time you’ve been working with us?  How you manipulated us against our express wishes to try to force our hand?  How you ignored all of our expertise and thought out conclusions and instead of talking with us, played games with ours and other Parisians’ lives?  How you wasted our time?  During which time approximately 3 million Parisians died as a result of 8 akuma attacks.  Which one did you want to focus on right now?”

Constantine rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath.  “Dramatic much?  Two weeks and one or two more deaths for someone who has already died a dozen times isn’t going to make much of a difference, but getting Batman involved might.”

“It makes a huge fucking difference to the people going through it.  One more on top of so many others can be enough to cause a break that might take years or decades to recover from, if they ever do, to drive someone irrevocably insane. It makes a difference to the child who lost their innocence because of it.”  Marinette hissed at him, suddenly very much awake.

“You swore to keep the Justice League out of this,” Adrien growled next to her.  “That was the one condition.  We were very clear on our opinion on the matter.  You agreed.  You swore you would abide by our rules.”

“I agreed to abide by the rule.  I never said I agreed with it.  I swore I wouldn’t communicate anything with or to them.  I didn’t,” he said pointing to Marinette, “Spots did.  And us being there did.  I didn’t break anything… I just bent it a bit and if you’re asking me for my opinion…”

“We didn’t,” Marinette snarled.

“…I think that rule needs to be finessed.  An exception made,” Constantine finished ignoring Marinette’s interjection.

“You don’t get to make that decision, you don’t even get a say. This is our city.  You don’t dictate the terms here,” Adrien gave Constantine a dark look, rising from the couch to his full height.  “You’re welcome to give advice.  You’ve certainly had more experience with magic and fighting, but you didn’t do that.  You didn’t offer your opinion or advice.  You manipulated us and the situation to force us to do as you want.  You involved Batman.  That is...”

The rest of Adrien’s rant was interrupted by the sound of Constantine’s phone ringing.  Constantine pulled out his phone and grunted as he saw the caller id, “Bollocks, speak of the Bat and the Bat shall appear.  Took longer than I expected.  He must be slipping or he isn’t worried about you.”

“What are you doing?  Turn your phone off so they can’t track you.”  Marinette ordered hurriedly jumping up when he didn’t immediately turn it off only calming down when he had turned it off.  “And why wouldn’t he be worried about me?  I am very worrisome.”  She defended herself.

“I can attest to that,” Adrien nodded from her side.

She glared at him, then shook her head and cleared her throat, “I mean, good.  We don’t want them to show too much interest.  The less interest the better.  Maybe if we make it hard to find us, they’ll just move on.” She winced as she finished saying it, not even believing it was an option herself.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen and they’re going to know I’m in Paris.” Constantine scoffed.

“Probably, but they don’t have to know you’re in this room.  Just leave it off until you leave.  And remember you aren’t going to tell Batman anything.” Adrien ordered him pointing his finger towards him and levelling him with a steely look.

“Oh well thank you so much for your permission,” he snarked at him.  “And just to be clear, I’ve been abiding by the no speaking rule… more or less, but this is Batman.  It’s a losing battle.  He’s going to find me and I’m not getting tortured by one of his kids for you. They’re all pain and no pleasure.” He opened his coat to put his phone back in his pocket and discretely sniffed the air between his body and his coat and furrowed his brow.  He looked up and saw the two watching him.  He stood back up nonchalantly.  “And my advice is it’s a good idea for you to talk to him.  He can help.”

“Does Batman have some insight into magic that we don’t?  Or the ability to control his emotions?  Would he respect us and listen to us?  Is he trustworthy?”

“No, God no, that’s laughable, and fuck no.  But what he does have is detective skills and a shit ton of backing money.”

“But we can’t trust him,” Marinette clarified.

“Sweetheart, you trusted me so… your judgement is suspect to begin with.  I would have trusted him before I trusted me.”

“We needed you for your knowledge of magic, the history, the limits, how to wield it, how to manipulate it, where to find more information on it… and how to steal that information.” Marinette conceded the last bit.  “That offset the trust factor.  Batman doesn’t have any of that to offer.”

“I’m just saying…” he sighed quietly, “think about it.  Or one of his kids.  You could let one of his kids come or help you from a distance.  They really are good detectives and you kids really do need a break.  You’ve been doing a good job, but until you find Hawkmoth, this isn’t going to end. You won’t be able to move on.  You could use a good detective for that.  They don’t call them the world’s greatest detective for no reason.” He stopped to consider the title for a minute, “although Tim might actually be better than Bruce and better at controlling his emotions too.

“But your best bet might just be Jason,” he grinned devilishly at Marinette as she fought her blush.  She was not going to blush just at hearing his name.  She had more control than that, damn it.  “It sounds like you’ve gotten his interest in the project already.  He’s a good detective too, some experience with magic, and if he trusts you, you can trust him.  He’ll have trouble with his temper so you’ll have to keep an eye on that, but you won’t find a better fighter.”

“Oh, that sounds like a great combination to have here, amazingly skilled fighter with no capacity for anger management,” Marinette bit at him.  “That’s not Hawkmoth’s ideal candidate or anything.”

“Hard to control though, the best have tried.  Even if Butterfly Man tries, he’s your best bet at resisting it,” he said knowingly.  “And as tough as he looks, and is, he’d give the skin off his back to help someone in trouble, especially a kid.”

“Isn’t the phrase ‘shirt off his back’?” Adrien asked with a raised brow.

“He’d be more upset about the jacket.  Just consider it.  Maybe the information we got will be enough, but you can use all the allies you can get on your side.  And maybe you could use a new approach, a new perspective.”  Constantine sighed and looked back at the two teens noting the darkening bags under their eyes.  “Now, get some sleep, you look like hell.”

“Personal knowledge?” Adrien quipped at him.

Marinette rolled her eyes, “You better be careful.  If anyone were to hear you now they might think you give the slightest care about someone other than yourself.  What would happen to your reputation then?”  He huffed at her and she smirked back at him.

“I’ll just have to be extra careful to show my true feelings around other people, so nobody gets confused.” He responded.

Marinette hummed in response.  He wasn’t fooling anyone and everyone there knew it.  She sighed and stood up, calling for her transformation.  “Voyage” she said quietly and motioned near Constantine to open a portal to his next destination.

“Let me know when you get it deciphered.  I’m just a voyage away if you need anything.  And if you need someone to talk to… definitely don’t be afraid to think better of calling me,” he said gruffly.  Marinette rolled her eyes at him.  “And think about what I said,” he said looking her in the eyes with a meaningful look.  She nodded in understanding and offered a quiet “Good Night and thank you” to him.  He turned to give a small nod to Adrien before walking through the portal.

“Want to talk about anything?” Adrien asked coming up behind her and bumping her with his shoulder.

Marinette shook her head, “We can talk about everything later.  There isn’t anything you need to know right now.  Let’s just go to sleep.  It’s been a rough night.”

                                                <><><><><> 

“Constantine turned off his phone before I could get his exact location.” Tim called out loudly not bothering to look up from his spot in front of the computer in the Batcave.  He hadn’t left his seat since returning from the gala.  He had barely waited until the limo was stopped before jumping out and reporting immediately to the batcomputer.  Unlike the rest of the family, he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his suit from the gala yet, too focused on trying to glean all the information he could from the breadcrumbs Constantine had left behind.

They needed to track down that girl and figure out how much of a threat she was to them.  She had already proven herself to be a clear and present threat and they needed to establish if she needed to be neutralized.  First priority was Constantine though.  He seemed to be pulling the strings and had broken into the cave for a very specific reason and they needed to know what he knew and why he did it.  That meant figuring out what files he had accessed and where he was hiding.

“Were you able to get a general vicinity before he turned it off?” Dick asked coming up behind him.  Unlike Tim, he and the rest of the family had changed out of their suits and into pajamas before they started the post mortem on their night.

“Of course,” he scoffed at the audacity of the doubt.  “He didn’t turn it off that quickly.  He’s somewhere in Paris.”

“He likely left it on so we would know where to start our search,” Bruce nodded knowingly.  “Did he leave us any messages?  

“Just this note,” Tim motioned toward a section of the screen with a typed message, ‘You need to up your security.  Your move, Bats.”  Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples.

“What did he get?” Jason demanded from his spot leaning against a wall.

“A file on something called a ‘Miraculous’.” Tim responded.

“What the fuck is that?” Jason asked annoyed.  Something had to make sense tonight, just one thing. Sooner or later, something had to make some fucking sense.

“I’m not sure.  There isn’t much here.  Or rather there is a lot here but only a small portion of it is in a known language. The part I can translate says the Miraculous are magic jewels that grant powers that are potentially devastating on a global scale.  The rest is in a language that neither the computer nor I have ever seen.  I’m running translation algorithms but not getting anything... yet” Tim answered distractedly, still trying to read as much as he could as he was talking.  

“It says they wield a lot of power.  The League had plans a couple hundred years ago to try to steal them from something called ‘The Order of the Guardians’ but before they could enact their plan the Order’s compound was destroyed by an unknown force.  The League surmised it was a power of the miraculous.  They found no evidence of survivors or the miraculous.  They were able to gather some texts from the ruins, scans of which is what is in the files, but without the miraculous themselves, it isn’t much good.  There isn’t any translation offered so either we didn’t get that file from them, they weren’t able to translate it, or they gave up on trying to translate it.

Magic.  Mother fucking Hell. There went any hope Jason had of anything making sense.  Nothing ever made sense or went their fucking way when magic was involved.

“Any indication what that has to do with this girl or Paris?” Dick asked.

“None, but if I had to guess, which I do, I would say they are being used in Paris.” Tim responded.

“It isn’t like the League to give up, especially on something that could grant them power on a global scale.” Bruce noted.

“Agreed.  And there would have been reference to a translation here if there was one, so they likely were never able to translate it.” Tim nodded.

“That isn’t a good sign for us.” Jason commented.

“They aren’t me.  I’ll translate it.  Give me a week.” Tim said confidently.

Dick stared at the video of the earlier events in the cave playing on the far side of the screen.  “What do you think the odds are that the portal thing was somehow related to the Miraculous?  She seemed to have to transform to use it.” Dick noted.

Bruce nodded, “Good point.  Tim, go through the information in the files and the video and write up a summary,” Bruce ordered Tim.  Turning to Jason he said, “What do you know about her?

He snorted, oh now they fucking trusted his intuition.  He thought through the night with her.  She hadn’t said too much during the first part of the night, but he was a detective damn it, and a damn good one so he didn’t need words to figure someone out.  She had been fidgeting, she took care of the sexual assaulter quickly and discretely but hadn’t tried to fight Jason when he grabbed her later, she helped cheer up the kid with him, she kept up with his banter, she had a brilliant smile and looked gorgeous when she blushed… that probably isn’t relevant… accurate but not helpful in this particular situation.  She had figured them out after just observing them for a few minutes, she had cursed the hell out of Constantine and was damn sexy doing it, she said people were depending on her, she had somehow arranged a way to change her dress unnoticed with people around and looked hot as hell in both dresses.  It all came together to help form a personality profile in his mind and make the room feel significantly warmer.

“Has Anxiety.  Can protect herself but doesn’t like using violence.  Kind.  Witty.  Creative. Smart, like Tim level smart.  Dick Syndrome, shouldering the blame for everything that happens around her.  Does not like being lied to or manipulated.  Not wealthy.  Don’t think she was invited and she definitely didn’t want to be there.” He listed off.

Tim nodded along with the last part using it to springboard into another way to track her and Constantine, “Likely acquired by someone else who gave it to her, probably Constantine.  But since we would have recognized Constantine’s name and clearly he was trying to go under the radar on this, he asked someone else to get it.” He rolled the chair to the left and focused on a different monitor while starting the search for the list.

“Do we know if anyone asked for a ticket last minute?” Dick asked jumping on Tim’s train of thought.  If they could figure out who Constantine was working with they could ask them questions, get some leads.

“I’ll look through the invitation list and see if anything stands out,” Tim responded.

“This seems like a waste of effort, whoever that is probably doesn’t know anything more than Constantine wanted a ticket,” Jason countered. Why was this the focus?  The more important thing to focus on was what she said about Paris, not how she got in.  

“Whoever it is may be working with them as well and may know something.  It’s worth at least a look,” Dick explained.  “Anything else?”

Jason rolled his eyes, at least it meant they were looking into it and finally taking it seriously.  “She said there has been a supervillain in Paris for the last 5 years. The data Constantine was getting was related to that.  That data was supposed to help them fight the villain.  She said people were counting on her, which makes me think she’s a hero there….” he turned toward the sound of Damian scoffing as he made his way into the cave. “And Alfred likes her better than Demon Spawn.”  Jason smirked turning back towards the rest of the family.

“I will get my katana and gut you.  I only just succeeded in calming Alfred enough to rest.” Damian glared at Jason.  

“Yeah, because he was upset he wasn’t still with her,” Jason snarked quietly, but loudly enough for his words to be heard by everyone in the cave.

Tim chortled from his spot at the computer, “she does seem to have a way with demonic creatures, doesn’t she?  Constantine, Alfred… maybe we should send Demon Spawn to her too. She can tame the Hell Spawn.”  He kept his focus on the computer as he made his comment missing Damian’s face shift from anger to rage.  Jason snickered at the comment, pushing Damian over the edge after all the comments and events of the night.  

Damian jumped up from his chair to rush toward Jason, yelling something about a hussy and sullying.  Honestly, Jason couldn’t make out his exact words.  Tim only glanced back with the briefest of looks before returning to the computer.  Damian attacking Jason was nothing new.  It always ended with them getting separated before any real damage could be done and Jason chastised for defending himself because ‘Damian never meant to actually kill or seriously damage anyone during the attacks.  It was more of a venting session for him’.

Damian lamented that he hadn’t prepared properly for a confrontation as he rushed toward Jason.  He had prepared for bed, like the rest of the family and had left his katana and weapons in his room.  The weapons he used for patrol were on the other side of the cave, too far away to be of use right now.  But he was confident he didn’t need weapons to best Jason.

Damian jumped on the meeting table just at the last moment, using it as leverage to add height to the flying kick he sent towards Jason.  Jason anticipated the kick, Damian had been dumb enough to announce his attack, expecting everyone to react as they normally did.  What he didn’t anticipate, what none of them anticipated, was for Jason to not be in the fucking mood.  This was a long night already and the only good part of it they were belittling and to top it off Damian was attacking him again and no matter how it ended, he was going to get in trouble for it.

Just as Damian’s foot was about to land on Jason’s face he pushed it to the side and twisted, redirecting Damian’s momentum, causing him to crash harmlessly to the floor.  Damian jumped back up and ran at Jason.  He threw a punch to his side just a beat too slowly.  Jason twisted slightly again, just enough for the fist to fly past him then encouraged Damian’s momentum with a slight push of his own causing Damian to slam face first into the ground.  When he stood back up, ready to try again they could hear Dick in the background starting to intercede but Jason was too pissed to listen or to back down peacefully and Damian was still looking for a way to vent his frustration.  

“Stand still you giant oaf,” Damian screamed at Jason, running at him again.  Jason squared up against Damian and punched him in the center of his chest.  Damian went down hard as all the air left his lungs. Before he could take a breath Jason pulled him up by the back of his shirt, bringing Damian’s face close to his own, “how many times do I have to tell you, don’t start a fight you can’t finish, Shorty” he hissed at him before letting him drop.

Dick was next to Damian before he hit the ground checking him to make sure he was okay.  “What the hell, Jason!  Was that really necessary?  He wasn’t trying to hurt you.  You didn’t have to hit him that hard.  He was just letting off steam.”

“Then he should have gone after a practice dummy, not me.  And he should stop acting like a little jealous, elitist bitch.  I don’t understand why you dislike the galas so much, Damian, you’re right on track to be exactly like all those people there.  And for the record, if I’d wanted to hurt him, his sternum would be shattered right now instead of just bruised.”

“How dare you, you dimwitted, boorish, buffoon!” Damian hissed out, still breathing heavily and unable to yell.  “You’re so ready to defend that uncultured streetwalker over your own family.  You have no loyalty and no honor.”

“Way to prove his point, Demon.” Tim muttered from the computer.

“Alright, enough,” Bruce glared at Jason and Damian.  “We don’t have time for this.  Jason and you too Tim, Damian is a kid.  You’re adults.  Stop baiting him.”

“Y’all are going to have to decide if he is a kid or a vigilante assassin because you seem to blur the lines a lot.  Is he a kid or a tool to achieve your vengeance?” Jason seethed at the two older men in the room.

“As amusing as this show is and as much as I would love to hear the answer to that question,” Tim interceded, “let’s bring the focus back to the matter at hand; Constantine exposing us and bring a stranger into the cave.  I started looking for evidence of heroes in Paris and whatever she may have told you, I can’t find any news on any villains or superheroes in Paris or even France.  The only thing I have been able to find is a note on an official Paris city calendar about a Heroes Day to celebrate heroes.  But, it doesn’t specify particular heroes though so it could be everyday heroes or even heroes anywhere on Earth.  And we have to consider the very real possibility that she played Constantine.  If there was anything going on in Paris, let alone for 5 years, we would be able to find something, anything, but there is nothing.”

“Whatever else you want to say about him, Constantine is a good judge of people, when someone is playing an angle and when they are on the level, when that angle is really bad and when it’s just ‘bad’.  He didn’t break in here and leave that message for no reason.  The Miraculous is in play in Paris.  We need to decide what we are going to do about that.” Jason retorted.

“That inept excuse for a hero clearly isn’t doing a proper job of handling it.  We should intervene and handle it for her.  Show her what a hero really looks like.” Damian responded snidely still hunched over a bit.  Jason glared at him.  

“I’ve already taken you down once today, kid,” throwing the term in Damian’s face as a taunt, “I’ll do it again.  And if you believe that, then you also believe there is something going on there.  You’re admitting she was telling the truth.”  Damian scoffed in response and looked away.

“We know almost nothing about the situation in Paris.  The League’s notes said the Miraculous’ power could potentially affect the entire planet.  At the very least, we should gather as much information as we can on it, talk to the heroes there if there are any, see what we can do to help.” Dick suggested calmly.

“Them,” Tim corrected.  “The files indicated there is more than one miraculous.”

“And each one can affect the entire planet?” Bruce asked concerned.

“It is unclear from the data available.” Tim responded.

“Constantine’s phone was definitely in Paris, he left it on so we would know to go there.  He’s too experienced to make that mistake.  It was a clue about what our next step should be.  We should follow it.” Dick observed.

“So we are deciding to do exactly as the deranged dullard wanted us to do and playing into his plans,” Damian muttered from his spot at the table.  After everything that had happened that night they were going to just let him win. “Brilliant plan.”

“There is too much at stake to ignore it.  We follow the leads we have.  So we go plain clothes as reconnaissance, see what we can pick up by being there, but bring the suits so we can meet with the heroes there if we find something.  Dick, you and Damian can stay here and watch over Gotham while we are gone.” Bruce ordered, standing up to end the conversation.

“I’m going too.  Someone has to keep that wench from turning Todd against the rest of us.” Damian responded coldly.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.  He was not in the mood to deal with this right now.  There were too many unknowns.  “Fine.  I’ll ask Clark to be on call as backup for you Dick.  The rest of us go to Paris tomorrow.  Use the rest of today to get ready.”

“I’ll make the arrangements, Master Bruce.” Alfred announced from the doorway.

Chapter 4

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stay with me, my darling

Jon nods. Conversation, right. "Tim said- he asked, if there was anything we wanted to tell our future selves. And the- the Gertrude tape I played for you. I was just...thinking."

"That's not a good sign." Martin replies, and it could have had humor in it, another day, another time. But now it's mostly truth.

or: reminiscing, and hope for the future during the apocalypse

thank you @entitynumber5 for this prompt!! I love it and you to bits

ao3 link here!

...

There are moments, right before the nightmares and right after them, when Martin can sleep. There has to be space to breathe, between the fear and dread. How else will you really know what you've lost, know how afraid you are? Or maybe, even now, the fears are bound by the limits of human physiology, the nature of REM sleep and dreams. It's something Jon can't Know, but even if he could. It doesn't matter.

But there is something he could Know, if he wanted to. With Martin within arms reach in the bed next to him, Knowing if he was awake would be as easy as breathing. Maybe easier, now - a reflex, poised and ready just beneath the surface of his skin, just behind his eyes that don't blink as much as they used to.

He doesn't. He owes it to Martin. That sense of normalcy, however small.

Jon takes a breath, holding the compulsion at bay, locked tight in the back of his throat. He'd already slipped up, forced more than one answer out of Martin since they fled from London. Like hell he'll do it again.

"Are you asleep?"

It's no more than a whisper, ragged and sad sounding even to Jon's own ears. But it might as well be a scream compared to the muted terror outside, the solemn creaking of the boards beneath and around them.

It's quiet for a beat, then Martin shifts. He makes a little noise of coming to awareness - the same one he'd made every morning, when there were still mornings to wake up to. Jon didn't think it was possible to feel nostalgia for something that happened so recently. But the pang, the loss of soft morning sunlight and warm blankets and clumsy, sleep-mused hair and hellos sinks deep into his stomach, and he lowercase-k knows he's wrong.

"J'n?" Oh, but his voice still has that quality to it. When he's just woken up, unguarded, a smile when his eyes find Jon. The sound eases just a bit of the awful tightness in his chest. Not much, though, because Martin doesn't smile as he blinks away the sleep from his eyes. He fumbles for his glasses as he sits up, brow furrowed. Jon can't blame him.

"Is something wrong?" Technically a question, but not phrased like one. Martin’s voice matches Jon’s for pitch, quiet and soft.

Jon looks down at his hands, flexes his fingers. His mouth is dry. He feels guilty, for waking Martin up from the only rest he can get for something so silly . But it's hard to distinguish between shades of guilt these days, carved out of his chest and curled up where his lungs should be.

He almost says nevermind, go back to sleep, but that would be worse, waking him up for nothing. And Jon is nothing if not stubborn. Words are hard, but he gets them out.

"I was- I was thinking about the tape, that I...about what Tim said."

Martin sighs. It's not annoyed, or sad. Maybe fond? Jon isn't sure - you could be sure, you could pluck every thought from his head like grapes from a vine. The thing that only watches trills at the thought, buzzing anticipation and thirst filling his skull and he digs his fingernails into his palm until it hurts, stop stop stop-

"Jon?"

"Hm?" He comes back, with the extra volume and concern Martin adds to his name. Had he really drifted that easily, that far, that quickly?

Martin takes one of his hands, unfurling the fingers that he'd clenched. His nails leave crescent moons in the skin of his palm. Martin delicately runs a finger along them as they fade, and it tickles just enough to be both pleasant and distracting. "I said, the one at your birthday? The tape?"

Jon nods. Conversation, right. "Tim said- he asked, if there was anything we wanted to tell our future selves. And the- the Gertrude tape I played for you. I was just...thinking."

"That's not a good sign." Martin replies, and it could have had humor in it, another day, another time. But now it's mostly truth. "Jon-"

Jon shifts to face him. It's not a sudden movement, but it's lightning quick compared to his syrup-thick movements of the last few so-called-days. "I know, I know it's not- it's not healthy to dwell on it, on… It's just… there's so much I would, would tell myself if I could."

"Even if we couldn't avoid all of it. Maybe it could have been easier."

"Jon…"

"Martin, please ." It's the most emotion he's been able to get out of his voice since he stopped sobbing after the statement that got them here. It hurts. It hurts and he knows it's what he deserves.

Just let me have this , he wants to say, but can't bring himself to. He leans forward instead, just barely. Not for any reason other than his head is tired , but Martin pulls him further, touch gentle but firm. He wraps his arms around him, so easily, so Jon's head is resting on his shoulder, eyelashes brushing like butterflies against the crook of his neck.

"Alright, alright. It's okay."

Martin whispers into his hair, and for all Jon can See, he can’t imagine anything that would take the comfort of it away. They stay like that for a moment, a while. There’s a lot that Jon wants to say, and even though he started the conversation he doesn’t know where to begin. Everything is tangled like overgrown weeds in his mind, like boxes of cords with no purpose that sit in jumbled piles, wrapped around the things he’s trying not to Know and the things he wants to forget and the things that hurt to remember. But then Martin breaks the silence for him.

“For one thing, I wouldn’t…" Martin seems hesitant, like he's not sure he should say what he's about to say. "I wouldn't have let Biscuit into the archives.”

Jon stops. It's quiet for a moment, in a way he forgot it could be. Martin stills next to him, anticipating.

“Wh...what?”

Marin breathes out a small chuckle, almost with a nervous edge to it. “Y’know, the dog I let in? On my first day?”

Jon is something close to comfortable against Martin's shoulder. But he can't stop himself from pulling back far enough to see his face.

"You named the dog?”

“Oh,! No, that was on his nametag. Had a phone number too, that’s - that’s how I got him back to his owner."

I love you I love you I-

That might as well have been a decade ago. Jon can’t stop the quirk of lip, however small, at the ridiculousness of it. “I never knew that.”

Martin cocks his head, hint of a wry smile playing at his lips. "Well, yeah, it’s not like I was going to bring it up to you again. You looked like you were going to fire me on sight for weeks.” His face falls, slightly. “Although, I guess you wouldn’t have been able to, even back then."

Jon sighs, heavy as it's dragged out of his lungs. “I would have, though, if I could. All of you.”

The silence is thick, but not unbreakable. So Jon does just that.

"Maybe we could have ended up at a normal office job."

"What, like a...bank, or something?"

Jon smiles, wider, even though it feels like his face forgot how. Like riding a bike, maybe. "Yes, something… dreadfully boring."

"A boring job does sound pretty appealing."

"At least, them, I wouldn't have had to tell myself to stop pushing the whole, skeptic thing." Jon can't help but recall the conversation, in the storage closet with the man in front of him and what should have been certain death waiting outside. Even that seems so much simpler, now.

Martin makes a non-committal sound in the back of his throat. "Maybe I would have told myself to confront you sooner. A-about the statements, I mean. Could have had that whole-"

Martin deepens his voice in what Jon realizes is an imitation "- heart to heart thing sooner."

"I'm not sure if it would have gone over well.” Jon can't help but be honest. Old and new shame bubbles up in his throat, and he has to say something. "Martin, I'm- I'm sorry for the way I acted, back then. I was… god, I was such a prick to you. It wasn't fair, or- or right ."

Martin barely lets him finish before he's saying, "Yeah, you were pretty… prick-ish? I forgive you though. I don't really think about it much anymore, if it means anything.” He breathes out a quiet laugh. “It's kind of funny, actually. In hindsight."

Jon can't stop the look of disbelief. "Really."

Martin smiles. "I mean, yeah? And gosh , you should have heard the things I used to say to Tim and Sasha about you. It wasn't completely one sided."

That catches Jon's attention. "Oh?"

The look on Martin's face isn't quite regret, but it's close. " Any ways-"

"No no, Martin, please , I'd love to know.'' Jon is careful not to phrase it as a question. His voice is quiet, still, but coy. His curiosity is all his own and no one, nothing , else's. He revels in the feeling.

Their hands are entwined on the bed between them. Martin looks down at them as to not meet Jon's eye, but he's smiling, still. "I think I described you as a cactus with twice the spines and half the emotional capacity, once.”

Jon's laugh, soft and brittle as it is, surprises even himself.

Martin looks up at him, encouraged. "Heh- Tim got a kick out of that one."

Tim's laugh, faded like an old photograph in his mind. It hurts to remember, but it would hurt worse to forget. He wish he had that luxury for Sasha. The real Sasha, the stranger who was friends with Tim, friends with him . At least, he hoped she had been. She sounded so lovely.

But, back to Martin. "Yes, well, I can't say you're wrong about that."

Martin sucks in a breath, and Jon freezes under the possibility of upsetting him. But then.

" Oh , Jon- that’s the complete opposite of the truth."

Jon laughs, with less humor. "Martin-"

"No, no, let me finish." Martin takes one of Jon's hands, the burned one, in both of his. "You put up a great front, I'll admit it. But you care so much, even… even though things haven't been easy, or good, or… or fair. You never stopped caring, this whole time. It's obvious now, at least - at least, to me. Even if you don't always say it.”

"You care so, so much and it's - god , it's one of my favorite things about you, Jon."

Something about the way Martin says his name chisels something open in Jon's chest. And not for the first time. Being known, existing to someone else that actually wants him to. There's a reverence to it, the way Martin says it, that Jon knows he doesn't deserve. But he tries to move past that thought and let the sound warm him from the inside out.

Jon whispers Martin's name, quiet and strangled. He hopes it carries the same depth, the same love.

Martin keeps going. "And I - that's why this is so hard for you. I mean - well, of course it's hard, it's pretty fucking terrible, actually - but," Martin sighs. "I know that's why you want to blame yourself for all of this-"

Jon finds his voice, stronger. He's not sure where the sudden energy comes from, but it probably has to do with the knot that's made a home in his ribcage.

"It's not about want , Martin, it's- it's the truth. What else am I supposed to do? I ended the world -"

"Jonah fucking Magnus ended the world, Jon. Not you. He used you."

"I don't really see the difference."

The burst of energy leaves him, water spilling down a drain. This isn't the first time they've talked about this, and it probably won't be the last.

Martin sighs. "I know. But I'll keep telling you, as many times as it takes. Because it's true. And it- it hurts, seeing you like this."

Jon looks at Martin, really looks for the first time in too long. His eyes, tinged grey from his time in the Lonely, dark circles under his eyes, tight lines at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm sorry." He doesn't know what else to say, other than, "I love you."

"No, it's-" Martin shakes his head, just a bit. "I love you, too."

It's quiet for a long moment. Martin lays back down on the bed and gestures for Jon to follow him. Which is easy, for Jon to do. The bed isn't warm, but it isn't cold either, in the strange way that things are and aren't right now. But Martin is warm, Jon can feel, with their legs tangled together and foreheads touching.

Jon won't, can't sleep, but laying next to Martin still feels like rest. In a way.

"Martin." Jon doesn't know why he needs to say Martin's name. It's not like there's anyone else he could be talking to, with less than centimeters between them. But the thing he's about to say is so deeply important to him, and it feels like he needs to.

"I'm… glad," God, his vocabulary always escapes him when he has to speak out loud. Talk about his feelings. "That I got to spend time, with you. Time here."

They haven't left. The cabin still stands, doors and windows, squeaky hinges and leaky faucets intact. But it's not the same, never will be as far as Jon can tell. "The weeks that we had, before- I...I don't think I'm lying when I say it's the first time in a long time that I-"

Felt loved? Felt like a person, again?

"...was happy."

Martin smiles, but it shakes like a leaf in the wind. A tear slips from his eye, dripping slowly over the bridge of his nose.

"Me too."

Jon brushes a kiss, feather light between Martin's eyes, catching the tears and hopefully some, any tiny amount of the sorrow that lives in the lines of his face.

"I could have stayed here forever, like that. With- with you. Just…"

"Living?"

"Yes. Living."

It's not the first time Jon's treated himself to the thought, however far fetched, however foolish. A life, a normal, mundane life in the countryside. Maybe with boring jobs, but not a boring life. Not with Martin here. Not with Martin to wake up next to, to fall asleep with, to walk with to the village. Talking about nothing important but committing every detail to memory. That Martin prefers vanilla over chocolate, that he had a pet goldfish named Larry when he was seven, that he loves dandelions even though they're classified as a weed, who gets to decide what a weed is, anyway, right, Jon?

"The walk to the village is a bit much, but we could manage." Martin's voice is thick. "The shopkeeper already recognizes us."

The mention of a person outside their wooden refuge pulls knowledge unprompted from Jon's mind. He doesn't have the heart to tell Martin she's currently walking through endless identical corridors with identical doors leading nowhere. The lights above her flicker just so, and she swears she sees something out of the corner of her eye, but she turns and there's only off-white walls and beige doors and the sound of footsteps quickening in threatening cadence towards her-

Jon doesn't mean to drift again. But Martin's voice brings him back. Like it always will.

"Plus, we get to see good cows on the way, so it's worth it."

Jon pushes the thoughts away, and smiles. "I suppose you're right." After a breath, he goes on. "Less food to carry from the store if we have a garden."

"Jonathan Sims, a green thumb?"

Jon bristles at the not-quite accusation, but it doesn't quite reach his voice. Too much energy that he doesn't have. "Well, no, not yet. But I always thought it would be nice, to have a garden. I can learn."

"It would be." Martin slips into sincerity so easily. "I'm sure you would grow lovely vegetables."

"And spices, for cooking."

"Of course." Martin sighs, quiet, fond. "A man that can garden and cook, what could I possibly bring to the table?"

"Everything." Jon blurts out without thinking, and stands by it like a beach umbrella buried in the sand. "You're… you're better with your hands, than I am. Like, the door hinge you fixed when we first got here."

"That's not exactly master carpentry, Jon-"

"It doesn't need to be." Jon doesn't give him time to retort. "And your embroidery. It's- it's good, we'll hang it up on the walls and you can teach me how to do it."

Jon already learned embroidery once, technically, from his grandmother. But she had always grown impatient with his impatience, quick to scold him for fidgeting and rushing his stitches. Like it was an exam he was actively failing instead of something you do for fun. It wasn't all bad, not really, but Jon imagines relearning long-forgotten movements under Martin's hand and smile, and it makes him want to buy every spool of thread, every needle he can get his hands on.

"Of course." Martin replies. "We could put up other pictures, too. I've actually- I've, uh, always wanted to get into photography."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Not for any, real reason, I suppose. Just… seems like it would be fun."

I love you I love you I-

"That sounds like a reason to me."

They go on a bit longer, about pets ( at least one cat, and apparently a species of lizard that Martin is particularly fond of) and colors to paint the bedroom ( something bright but lively, a light blue, maybe) and mugs to buy from the second hand store ( Martin collects novelty mugs, and Jon files that away for later ). Jon knows it’s terrible of him, selfish to revel in this while the world suffers under the weight of its own choking fear.

Later, they'll talk again. A few times. Later, aching sorrow becomes burning anger and drive and they leave with the bags Martin's already packed. But for now, Jon holds Martin's face, and Martin wraps his arms around Jon's waist. Pulling him close, like a ship docked in harbor. And it feels safe.

[bangtanbetchfics]

friction | iii - knj (m)

genre: office au, romance, smut rating: explicit // 18+ pairing: kim namjoon x reader word count: 4.5k suggested listening: better - boa | up no more - twice | temptations - boa | mmmh - KAI | playlist warnings: explicit language, explicit/casual sex, masturbation, enemies to lovers, light bondage, light dom/sub, sex toys summary: your pesky and overworked assistants meddle in your relationship with your sexy rival -- kim namjoon -- and find themselves caught in the crosshairs of love and all-out war. notes: this is one of my favorite pieces i've written! i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. content is too hot to put above the fold, so go ahead & dive in. ;) finale & last chapter coming next week. encouragement favs & kudos help! :') navigation: ch. i | ch. ii | ch. iii | finale | m.list | ao3

“Namjoon...what kind of game are we playing?”

You smile through the question -- because no, it couldn’t be true that Namjoon tied you to his bed and left you there. The vibrator in your underwear suddenly changes speeds, and your mind is immediately drawn away from the thought.

“N-Namjoon?”

Your nipples stand up from the stimulation below, and your wrists twiddle around in your restraints. Your toes press into the bed and you gasp as the vibration grows a tick more intense.

You groan at the fact that you’re unable to control your pleasure, and you wriggle around the mattress trying to find some form of release.

The vibrator slows down for the first time and you whine as you toss your head side-to-side out of frustration.

Your eyes are shrouded in black -- still no sense of time or space around you. Your interview with Yoongi was definitely today, and you gasp as you recall.

Suddenly, it dawns on you that Namjoon removed your smartwatch before he tied your wrists to the bedpost.

“Okay Google, f-fuck,” You groan, biting your lip.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite get that.” Your watch responds, and you continue to whine and tug at your restraints -- nearing the peak of your release.

“Okay Google, what time is the event: my interview with Yoongi?” You plead, gritting the question through your teeth.

“The event: your interview with Yoongi was at nine A.M.”

“What time is it now?” You ask, feeling your underwear start to dampen.

“It’s nine forty-five A.M. Is there anything else I can help you with?” Google inquires. You whine before the watch shuts back off from a lack of response.

Just as you’re at the tip of release, the vibrator cycles through a variety of speeds repeatedly, and you feel a gloss of tears form over your eyes.

Your desire for relief causes you to hump the air, but you yelp when the vibrator kicks to top speed -- erupting your body into a bright, white heat.

The sounds of your frantic breaths start to fill your skull -- your throat running dry from your moans. The vibrator was still going, and you whine, knowing that it meant you were at rock bottom again before you could reach another release.

Despite this, your senses now seemed to be heightened -- your body aware of every neuron within and around it. You could now sense the earthy breeze coming in through the bedroom’s slightly ajar balcony door; your body slick from the heat you formed working your way up to an orgasmic release.

You could feel sweat droplets trickle down your skin -- and you notice the remnants of Namjoon’s cologne in the space.

After a moment you realize Namjoon really is gone.

The smell of his cologne floating in the air was always the last step in his routine before he left for work.

✹✹✹

Namjoon waits outside of Yoongi’s office, looking down and studying his phone.

The screen has a choice of three buttons to press: low, medium and high -- and he toggles between the three quickly. He looks up and sees Yoongi approaching him, and Namjoon’s fingers hesitate over a final button. His thumb settles on high and he presses it, his lips curling into a slight smirk.

“I’m ready. You comin’ in?” Yoongi asks, hanging out from his glass doorframe.

“Yeah, totally. I’m all set.” Namjoon replies, clicking his phone off and slipping the device into the front pocket of his slacks. He grabs his leather portfolio and stands up, making his way into Yoongi’s office.

Namjoon sits down and crosses one leg over another, looking over a few notes in his portfolio.

“So, before we get started...do you know where your Vegas partner in crime is? Haven’t heard from her today. It’s so unlike her.” Yoongi states, looking at his watch.

“She was actually supposed to be my first CEO interview this morning.” He mentions, sucking his teeth in disappointment.

“That is strange. I’m not sure. She just might be tied up with something at the moment, I suppose?” Namjoon shrugs as he responds before looking up at Yoongi.

“Maybe...” Yoongi’s eyes drift into his head to think, but he shakes his head and focuses back on Namjoon.

✹✹✹

Your ears perk up as you hear footsteps in the hall and you start to gently tug at your silky binds.

“Namjoon...?” You inquire in a low, scratchy voice -- nearly breathless. You feel his weight compress the bed and you press your head back into the pillow.

Another wave of warmth starts to fill your body as his finger traces a straight line from the top of your abdomen to your bellybutton. You quickly heave as you try to anticipate where his fingers will land, and you moan as he reaches into your underwear.

“You’re soaked,” Namjoon comments, pushing the vibrator closer to your clit, causing you to arch your back off the bed.

“Let me g-“ Before you’re able to protest, you let out a pleasurable cry as the speed increases on the vibrator. You bite your lip as more moans try to escape your lips.

The sensations coursing through your body send you into an elusive wave of pleasure that washes over you for the sixth time that afternoon. You hum before your body jerks up furiously from the overstimulation and ends in a tremble.

After your comedown you’re only able to lay still as your chest heaves, and Namjoon slips the silk ties from your wrists.

You groan at the relief, your wrists tender from the restraints. You feel his lips tenderly kiss and soothe your wrists, and you use your now-free hands to lead him down toward your lips.

You kiss him passionately, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You feel him remove his wool coat and toss it to the ground, the warmth of his body enveloping you as he climbs on top of you.

“Ow-” He suddenly feels a hard nip at his lip and he looks down at you, watching you remove your blindfold.

“Are you happy you made me miss my interview?” You snap as you glare up at him, shoving his chest away from you. You reach into your underwear and slam the vibrator onto the night table.

“Classic asshole move,” You grumble, reaching to the floor and slipping your body into your skirt.

“Fuck, baby. Please,” Namjoon dabs at his lip with his finger, looking at the slight blood on his fingertip.

You throw your suit jacket on followed by your coat and heels as he sits up on the edge of the bed. He tries to grab your wrist, but you whip around to look at him.

“You used me. You’re insane. Let me go.” You grit through your teeth.

Namjoon looks at you in shock, his eyes wide.

“You made me miss something I’ve been working for my entire life. Endless nights -- alone to get where I am. I can’t believe I let a few nights with you rob me of that.” You scoff as you think about it, loosening your wrist from his grip.

“God. Don’t speak to me ever again.” You say firmly before you leave the room. He reaches his hand out in vain behind you, watching you walk away.

“You know what? I’m the insane one...” You mumble to yourself, your heels clicking across the wood floor as you head toward the front door.

✹✹✹

The next night, your eyes focus on your computer screen -- the familiar blue light illuminating your tired eyes. You couldn’t move or blink, feeling imprisoned by the thoughts from the copious amount of interactions for the last nine hours.

Taehyung’s typing outside of your door finally comes into focus, and you sigh -- inhaling first, and then blowing out air from your mouth to release some of the tension from the day.

You throw your head back in your chair and it leans back halfway, a slight release occurring in your tight muscles.

You lick your lips and it brings the slightest twinge of arousal to the top of your thoughts.

Normally, Namjoon’s lips would be buried between your thighs right now -- but not tonight. If you couldn’t have Namjoon by night, it was before work or for a quick afternoon romp. That of course wasn’t the case anymore, and you sigh.

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the thought, and Taehyung raps on the glass of your door.

“Excuse me...sorry to interrupt. Your meeting with Yoongi is in about five minutes, so you might want to head up.” Taehyung looks at you, and you can tell he’s forlorn at your situation.

“Great, thanks Tae.” You nod as you sit up, refusing to hold eye contact with him to avoid feeling any further regret than you already did.

You shut down your computer and gather your things, throwing your coat over your forearm.

“Have a good night.” You say quietly, and Taehyung waves at you as you slowly walk off, head hung low.

✹✹✹

As you wait for Yoongi to return, your eyes scan the glimmering cityscape. You look down and swallow, the appeal of this office -- this view -- not as glamorous as it seemed a few months ago.

“Sorry about that. Had to use the men’s room really quickly.” Yoongi mentions as he closes his door, and circles back around to his desk.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” He sits and stares at you as he awaits a response.

You twiddle with your fingers in your hands, a nail depressing into the flesh of your skin.

“I...” You bite your lip as you feel tears well into your eyes.

“It’s just so unlike you to throw an opportunity like this away.” Yoongi prods, and you look up at him.

“I know. I’m so ashamed.” You respond, your voice trembling.

Yoongi sighs in disappointment, his fingers drumming the table.

“I-I was hoping for another-“ You start, and Yoongi shakes his head.

“You know I can’t do that. Don’t put me in that position. There are so many qualified people applying for this role.” He says, shaking his head again. “You were my top choice and you just didn’t show up. That tells me that you’re just not ready to handle the pressures of this position -- that you’re not taking it seriously. You can never have an off day leading a company of this size and scale. Do you understand that?” He says firmly and you nod, swallowing your tears down your throat.

“No. I do understand, Sir. Thank you for your time.” You stand up and collect your things and bow deeply to him.

Yoongi lets out a deep sigh in disappointment as you walk out.

You take large strides as you make your way to the elevator bank.

As soon as you hear the ding of a car, silent, hot tears flow down your face and you sob.

✹✹✹

The next morning you head toward the kitchen in your office, the sound of your heels echoing throughout the silent hall.

You open a drawer and reach for a Keurig cup -- choosing an Irish coffee flavor. You purse your lips, figuring its the closest you’ll get to alcohol this early in the morning.

You press the cup into the coffee maker, and you hear the machine pierce the plastic container. You hear the coffee start to flow into the paper cup, and you make your way to look at the city from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

You hear another set of footsteps, and you turn around to see Jimin. You knew he was Namjoon’s assistant, but he seemed to dress sharply for his role despite that.

Jimin stops in his tracks as he notices you staring at him, and he approaches the other coffee maker cautiously.

“Uhm, good morning,” Jimin says, his voice rising at the end of his greeting. He pulls a cup from a stack, looking at you.

“You’re Namjoon’s assistant, right?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest.

Your eyes were somehow incredibly intimidating in the moment, and it causes Jimin to shrink in your presence.

“Can you deliver a message to your boss for me?” You ask, raising an eyebrow and grabbing your cup.

Jimin gives you a silent nod as he stands frozen in position.

“Tell your boss he’s a fucking asshole.” You say cooly, blowing the steam from your cup as you stomp off.

The air returns to Jimin’s lungs, and he sighs as he rests his hands on the cool counter.

✹✹✹

“Sir, I have a message for you,” Jimin says, rapping at Namjoon’s office door.

“Not now Jimin.” Namjoon says curtly, continuing to write on the piece of paper in front of him.

“It’s an important message. It cannot wait.” Jimin says firmly.

“Fine, go ahead.” Namjoon sighs, sitting back in his chair.

“The CMO asked me to let you know...” Namjoon perks up, his eyes growing wide. “She asked me to let you know...”

Namjoon’s eyes grow dark, his stare turning into a cold impatience.

“Just say it, Jimin.” Namjoon demands, tossing his gold pen onto the table.

“Uhm,” Jimin hesitates, but bites his lip once he sees the look on Namjoon’s face. “She said to tell you that...um, and I quote: you’re a fucking asshole.” Jimin cringes as he says it, running back to his seat.

Namjoon sighs and clenches his jaw before he runs his hands through his hair. He chuckles out of frustration as he leans back, looking around his office.

✹✹✹

Taehyung’s phone rings, and he immediately picks up the line.

“God Taehyungie, it’s really bad over here,” Jimin whispers at the other side of the line.

“No, I know. I had to stay until eight last night helping her. She seemed pretty upset.” Taehyung sighs.

“Same here. She told me to tell him that he was a fucking asshole,” Taehyung gasps on the other end. “Normally they’re together, but now they’re both pushing themselves into overdrive at the office instead.” Jimin groans.

One of Taehyung’s vacant phone lines starts to blink.

“Hold on a sec Jiminie,” Taehyung presses the line and he nods as he hears the voice on the other end.

“Okay, yes. 63rd floor. Sure.” He smiles a bit and a glimmer of hope swells in his heart.

“I have to go.” He tells Jimin, hanging up the phone.

“Uhm, miss. Looks like someone is really sorry,” Taehyung says, watching a delivery man hand you a bouquet.

The bouquet screams sorry, the vase filled to the brim with a dizzying array of roses, tulips, lilies and orchards.

You roll your eyes as you see a small card tucked into the flowers: From Namjoon, and set the glass vase on your desk. You toss the card into the trash before diving back into your work, but Taehyung holds his hand up.

The delivery man enters again, this time with two large, differing bouquets: one of one hundred decadent red roses -- the exact number of days you’d been together with Namjoon before you split.

Another bouquet arrives of one hundred pink, white and yellow roses, and you inhale the scent of the flowers as its set in front of you.

You’re unable to process the moment as the man brings in seven more bouquets -- your office filled to the brim with a floral aroma. You close your eyes and inhale the scent of the flowers once more, the look in your eyes forlorn.

Taehyung looks at you with a soft smile, but he watches you quickly come to -- returning yourself to a state of anger.

“The monthly board meeting is in about three minutes as well,” Taehyung’s voice registers in your head, and you look up at him and nod.

You tippytoe and step over the array of flowers lining the floor to leave your office -- making your way down the hall.

✹✹✹

You lean against a wall outside of the conference room, and you check your watch as you wait for people to arrive.

A man in a crisp grey and white checked suit walks down the hall. His black hair is slicked back over his head, and a small wisp of carefully placed hair sits over one of his eyes.

“Excuse me? Jackson?” You squeal, approaching the man.

Jackson turns his head your way and a smile envelops his face.

“My god, look at you?” You bite your lip, slicking your fingers over the fabric of his suit. “You’ve fucking made it to the big leagues, Wang.” You giggle, continuing to look him over.

“Look at you,” He throws the phrase back your way, his bright black eyes scanning your curves. He’d been after you for years and was fully basking in your attention.

Namjoon finally arrives, staring directly at you as he walks past the two of you. He watches people leave the room from the previous meeting, but his eyes dart back over to focus on you and Jackson.

Your giggles fill the hall as you and Jackson interact, and Namjoon feels jealously boil in his blood. After all, you were tied to his bed -- fully his, just a few weeks ago. You weren’t his anymore, but the sexy visions of all of the moments you shared were overtaking his thoughts: your silhouette in the shower, the water trickling from your body underneath the searing Vegas sun, the two of you hooking up repeatedly -- unable to get enough of each other.

The memories of your moans were tangible enough to feel on his lips, and he clenches his jaw as he watches the two of you.

Your eyes float over to Namjoon, and Jackson notices as he follows your eyes.

“Ah, trying to make him jealous?” Jackson smiles as you look at him quickly, and then back to Namjoon. “It can be our little secret.” He whispers, nudging you in the arm before you shake your head.

You glare at Namjoon and roll your eyes before you focus a smile back at Jackson. Jackson pats you on your lower back, lightly guiding you into the conference room.

✹✹✹

As you enter, you pick a seat near the front of the room, and you subtly watch Namjoon hesitate to pick a seat. He exhales from his nose before he gets the gusto to sit across the table from you. You glower at him, and he smirks, satisfied with himself.

“So, the agenda was established previous to this meeting. Let’s just hop right in.” Yoongi starts, flipping through a few papers before him.

“First thing’s first. As you all know, we’re looking to lock a new CEO by the end of the year. That’s going to be challenging with the holidays, but I promise you we’re close,” He slams his fist on the table.

“God dammit, the next person could very well be right here in this room.” He points around the room and smiles, looking everyone over as the room erupts in a light chuckle.

Namjoon leans back in his chair with an air of arrogance, his fingers drumming on the table.

You angrily squeeze the pen in your hand, and look up with a smile -- trying to seem indifferent, but it was hard to be at the moment; indifferent that you were too busy chasing love and lost the biggest opportunity of your lifetime.

Your eyes catch Namjoon’s drumming fingers and you glare at him.

“Now, moving into updates from our CTO,” Yoongi points at Namjoon and he nods in response.

“So, earlier this year I attended the TechX conference to represent the product...”

Halfway through Namjoon speaking, you find your thoughts drifting to what’s happening below you.

You catch yourself hanging onto Namjoon’s lips: his plushy bottom one, the thick Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat, the deep valleys of his voice making you wet.

You find that your eyes shoot up to meet his, and then move to a brow that raises on his forehead.

You clear your throat and try not to look at him, but at the papers in front of you instead. The bundle of nerves between your legs were betraying you in the current moment and you weren’t sure what to do to quench your thirst. 

Your eyes float back up to Namjoon’s again, and this time you can’t help but lace them with lust. Your head falls into your hand as you watch him intently, tripping him up on his words.

After he finishes speaking you stare each other down, a storm swirling in both of your gazes. He swipes his tongue on the inside of his cheek as you stare each other down further, the tension tangible between the two of you.

“Lunch will be served momentarily. We’ll reconvene in ten minutes to finish up what’s left on the agenda.” Yoongi’s voice cuts through the taut revulsion that bounds the two of you.

You immediately stand and head toward the exit -- looking over your shoulder at Namjoon before you leave.

Namjoon stands, buttoning his suit jacket taut over his body.

Yoongi is about to call Namjoon over, but notices him follow you instead. Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest, and a series of thoughts finally click together in his head.

✹✹✹

You saunter down the hall and you give Namjoon a look before you enter a small phone room.

The door is frosted and there’s only enough room for a floating desk and chair, and you slide back on the desk.

You raise your brows as you hear the door click open, and your fingers clench the edges of the table as Namjoon enters the room and locks it.

Your eyes scan the breadth of his frame, and you watch him slowly approach you -- his body landing to tower over yours.

He tosses his leather portfolio onto the desk, and your heart starts to race as your lungs fill with the spicy, sinful scent of his cologne.

Namjoon’s thumb and forefinger align with the edge of your jaw, his fingers tensing around the bone as he tilts your head up to meet his. His lips hover over yours in a hot hesitation as he hones his eyes on your dark, unwavering gaze.

His nose grazes over your neck to inhale your scent, now laced with notes from the flowers in your office. His eyes laser in on your lips, and your glare at him intensifies.

“Did you get my flowers?” He asks, still looking down at you.

“No. Not a single one.” You answer curtly, your nostrils flaring as you clench your jaw.

Namjoon blows a hint of annoyance from his nose, your loathing gaze only growing more penetrating.

“Why’d you follow me?” You ask, your voice thick with desire as you look from his lips up to the smoking lust in his eyes.

“You really don’t know?” You’re nearly breathless as his lips draw closer. You try not to let it affect you, but your toes curl up in your heels — your nails sinking into the wood grooves of the desk.

“No, I don’t know,” You breathe in. “Tell me.” You say with a deep exhale, an achy desire coating your throat.

You heart is ready to burst how much you craved him in this moment -- but you refused to give into him first.

“I’m here because I saw you looking at me with those hungry eyes like the very first day I met you,” His voice is rich and velvety, sending chills down your frame.

His lips brush yours, and it makes your own lips vibrate with heat -- the sensation knotting your core.

“Yeah...and what about it?” You breathe out.

He hums before your lips crash together, the room nothing but feathery moans and sucking sounds.

You pull your lips from his, licking the notes of sugar from his morning coffee from your lips as you roll his tie around your wrist. He collapses down and his hands fall to the desk on either side of you.

“I saw you looking at Jackson and I. Were you jealous?” You tease breathily into his mouth, jerking him closer to you by his tie. His nose grazes yours and he smirks.

“No...because you still want me,” He responds, his hands in your hair as he moves in to slip his tongue in your mouth.

“No I, mmh-“ you protest as you come up for air before both of your lips come together again.

“If you wanted him, he’d be here with you right now.” You let out a moan into his mouth at how right he is, grabbing the lapels of his jacket as your tongues intertwine.

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me,” He whispers, his breath hot in your ear after he pulls his lips from yours.

“I don’t...this is just a one time thing,” You lie, your head falling back as he kisses your neck -- the stubble on his chin scraping your flesh. You let out light moans as he sucks your neck, and his hands move to squeeze your waist.

“Be quiet...do you want the entire office to know how much you want me?” He demands, your breaths shuddering.

Namjoon’s hands press into your lower back and it makes you stand up, his hands wandering to your ass. His lips and hands were like magma, leaving fire in its wake wherever it went.

His desire makes you moan, his tongue swiping under yours as your arms reach around his neck to massage his hair.

“Liar,” He whispers as he backs you up against the wall, his hands gliding over your ass and landing in a smack. You gasp, the tail end of it a whimper that he captures with his tongue.

“Hush.” Namjoon whispers in your ear before he grabs a handful of your ass and smacks it again. You mewl, your hands wandering his firm, broad chest.

“You’re making me so hard right now,” His voice vibrates in the shell of your ear and you gasp as your hand wanders to the warmth of his cock, feeling how hard he is in your palm.

“Stop talking, we have five minutes,” You say breathlessly, and he pins both of your wrists to the wall. He pulls your skirt up to your waist -- sliding his hand into your underwear.

He dips his finger inside of your warmth, and he drags your taste down his tongue.

“Mmm fuck, I could take you right now,” He breathes out.

“Right now?” You ask, breathless. “No...” You say as his lips envelop yours again and you pull away for air.

“I think I’d rather have you tie me up in your room again because you’re threatened by me.” You state, and it makes him growl as he dives back into an open-mouthed kiss.

“Fuck, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” He moans into your ear as his fingers slip inside of you. You groan at how wet you are, and you can feel yourself drip down his fingers.

“How many times did you imagine this?” He whispers, and you clench around his fingers as a burning heat fills your cheeks.

Your arms tighten around his neck and your fingertips crinkle the fabric of his suit as you near your peak. His fingers drag against your cushiony g-spot, and it triggers your release. He seals his lips to yours to hold your moans, and he pulls you close to keep you upright.

He licks his fingers clean and you kiss him, tasting your essence on his lips.

After a moment you pull your lips from his and he grazes his nose across yours a few times to try and recapture your lips.

Your hand smooths from his arm up to his shoulder, and you trail kisses up his neck. You use your free hand to palm him, and you tug at his ear with your teeth before you speak.

“I hope the job was worth throwing all of this away,” You whisper, removing your hand from his bulge as Namjoon gasps.

Your hands move to snap your skirt back down your hips, and you pull your hair from its updo to cover the blooming love bites all over your neck. You smooth the lapels of his jacket back down before you look up and relish in the flabbergasted look on his face.

Namjoon runs his hands through his hair, his cock still rock hard as you leave the room.

“Fuck.” Namjoon grabs the portfolio from earlier on the desk, using it to cover himself as he exits the room.

✹✹✹

After you return to the conference room, you dig in your bag and pull out a compact. You bite your lip as you adjust your hair -- making sure no dark spots on your neck are visible.

You reapply your lip gloss, and Jackson kicks you underneath the table. He mouths “Did you...?” to you and you widen your eyes with an innocent look on your face. You steal a quick glance at Namjoon as he enters, looking down at the portfolio over his pants and back up to his eyes.

Namjoon sits, putting his elbow on the table. His fingers subtly meet his nose, and you watch him inhale the remnants of your sweet scent on his fingertips.

He tightens his jaw and you smirk, clamping your compact shut.

navigation: ch. i | ch. ii | ch. iii | finale | m.list | ao3

[lovelessdagger]

Starlight - Prologue: Before

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Trauma

Words: 2000

Summary: What's past is prologue.

There's a new trend since the fall of the Empire, everyone is rising from the dead.

She's haunted by memories of the Empire that abandoned her, he's plagued with thoughts of what if and doubts of the future. The stars align in a string of constellations which guide them to their fates, decided long before them. 

Tortured with echos of before, they're alone in an endless galaxy. But orphans have a funny way of finding each other, and the gods have a sick sense of humor.

Read on AO3 Here

Tatooine was the galaxy’s own personal hell, Mustafar at least had the pleasure of fauna. Demonic nightmarish fauna that was more than likely poisonous, but fauna nonetheless. Tatooine? Tatooine was a barren wasteland that had gone to the dogs, and even the dogs had decided they wanted no part in its misfortune. At least on Mustafar she could go inside and be relieved of the heat, at least Mustafar could be considered home. 

Or at least it used to be, before.

“Maker,” An assassin mutters, crossing over a sand dune. The red tracking fob in her gloved hand sounds, it’s light flashing a similar color. To her relief, she was close. The sooner to the target, the sooner she could leave and never set foot on sand again. 

She could count the total number of visits to Tatooine in her lifetime on one hand. The first she couldn’t have been more than fourteen, then again at an older age to meet with the Hutts. Nine years ago, her father had sent her on a reconnaissance mission to some abandoned moisture farm. It had been terribly boring, full of memories of family dinners and old beaten up droids.

The irony that that very mission essentially caused her to lose everything wasn’t lost on her.

Five years ago she sat in the very cantina she walks to, warned to run away. A mere twenty-one years old—give or take, her birthday after all was a random day chosen by her and the waking sun. There was no telling her true age, so with her knowledge of human anatomy and development, nine years ago she decided on being seventeen.

“Why seventeen?” He asks her. Entering hyperspace she sits behind him, tracing passing stars on the window.

“Because,” she begins matter-of-factly, “Seventeen is a completely insignificant year to be alive. Sixteen is old enough that I won’t be questioned for traveling alone, but still too young to be taken seriously. I’m not quite ready to be an adult yet, but next cycle I will be. So I am seventeen now, so that I may be prepared to be eighteen later.”

Eighteen hours later, the first Death Star exploded. 

The events which follow guide her on a fragile string of stars throughout the galaxy, the culmination of which lead her back to hell. Or Tatooine, as the New Republic liked to call it.

Maybe if she had listened things would have been different.

Or maybe they would be worse.

Either way she would be here. The designer of her cruel fate and dictator of her misery have decided this long ago. Forever would she be trapped in hell with her memories.

And everyone else’s.

Condemned to relive the worst of what humanity had to offer, over, and over, and over again. It wasn’t so bad anymore, it’s easy to get numb to that sort of thing when your entire life was filled with it. Still, out of all the places in the galaxy, why did it have to be Tatooine?

She could understand the appeal for those on the run. Away from the New Republic’s oversight, moisture farms as the only viable landmark, and everyone being too overworked to give a damn. Theoretically it should have been easy to hide, the only issue was every criminal in the Outer Rim had the same idea. Originality be damned.

A detached hood and mask shield her identity, not that she believed anything with a penchant of life would be anywhere near. All that surrounded her was sand, rocks, and sand. Still, she could never be overly cautious. Walking up to the cantina, her eyes roll. It was like they wanted to make her job difficult. She could only assume the bar would be crawling with other criminals. Defected imperials, thieves, murderers.

It could have been a family reunion.

Eyes fall on her entrance, the suns backlight her into a silhouette. She becomes the one cascade of darkness in the light of the desert. 

“Boys,” she greets, walking in. Her eyes scan the room, there couldn’t be more than ten men. She counts the passing of ten seconds before one approaches her. Within those seconds her mind remarks on the state of the bar, essentially unchanged. Same busted chairs, same creaking floors, same hideous decorations. 

“What’s someone like you doing here?” a man grunts, stalking up to her. The most she does to acknowledge him is an eye roll. He grabs her arm, holding her in place. “Does your daddy know you’re out here?” he asks, leaning down to her ear.

She mocks a laugh. “Does yours?”

The man spits at her boots. “Bitch,” he says, walking away from her. His spit slowly rolls off her toe, leaving a glimmering streak along the leather in its wake. She pulls her blaster out, pointing the gun behind her, she shoots the man in the back of the head. He drops, his body heavy with a thud. 

The cantina falls to silence. Nine bodies are now watching her. No one makes a move, even the bartender stops his clinking glasses. She’s almost inviting them to try her next.

“No?” She asks, holstering her gun. “Pity,” she mutters. 

She walks up to body number seven, he sits in the same spot she had all those years ago. She places her soiled boot on his seat, grabbing his attention. Motioning for him to stand, she barely makes eye contact.

 Her fingers run across the tables’ wood, rubbing over permanent stains and rotting cracks.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he says. He always worried too much about her, “Whatever he’s planning, you won’t come out of it.”

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she says. “I can take care of myself now.”

“I know. That’s what scares me. You’re not safe anymore,” he replies.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been safe.”

Seven stares at her incredulously, slurping his liquor.

“Come with me,” his voice echos around her. If she closes her eyes it’s like he’s still sitting in front of her. Pleading.

“I don’t like making messes inside, it’s bad manners,” she says, reaching for her blaster. “Get up.” 

“Am I supposed to be scared, girl?” Seven asks. He scans her appearance and truth be told she was no Rancor, certainly no Hutt. While her build was athletic, her height physically left her the smallest in the room.

“You owe a lot of credits—” Seven stands, “—That’s better.” She drops her foot. “Now—“

“Step aside,” a modulated voice speaks behind her. She catches a reflection of the intruder in the glass of the framed artwork above Seven’s head. A Mandalorian, covered in pure Beskar, stands a whole head above her. Of course a fucking Mandalorian would show up right now, this had to be his doing. Even in the grave he had to fuck with her.

“Mando,” Seven laughs, he wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I was uh, I was just talking to the missus here,” he grabs the girls shoulder. “Say, now’s not really a good time so how about we—“ 

“I don’t have time for this,” the Mandalorian says. He drops a bounty puck on the table, in blue holograms Seven’s profile appears.

WANTED: EDI MOURI 

“Let’s go,” Mando says.

The girl shakes herself from Seven. “Listen Shiny, I was here first so move along.” The Mandalorian’s head tilts.

“Are you with the guild?” He asks.

She picks up the bounty puck, examining the emblem. “Not yours.”

Mando’s head turns to One’s fallen body on the ground, a growing pool of blood by his head. 

“Your work?”

“You could say that.”

Seven clears his throat. Whispers of bets trail within the crowd. “In fairness. She did find me first.”

The pair are incredulous in their stare. “You want to go with the assassin?” Mando asks, a slight twinge of amusement escapes past his modulator.

Seven’s face turns to ice, his deep emerald skin becoming a pastel like hue. “On second thought. I always loved the Mandalorian stories I heard as a kid, I’m a big fan. Let’s go big guy.” He takes a step towards Mando, the assassin pulls out her blaster, pointing it to his head. At the same moment Mando pulls out his own, pointing it to her.

“Drop it,” he says. “I need him alive.”

She cocks her head to the side, pressing her forehead against the barrel of the gun. “Do it,” she purrs. 

He’s motionless.

She grabs the Mandalorian’s wrist with one hand, striking the bend in his arm with the other. A blaster shot fires, Three falls to the ground with a hole in his head. 

Mando lifts her by her neck and slams her into the table where Seven sits. Her vision flashes white and she groans on impact. Her hands fumble across the wood in frantic search of anything to defend herself with.

“Wait for me, I’ll come for you in two days.”

She smashes Seven’s plate against the table, shattering it. With a jagged edge of porcelain she slashes the Mandalorian’s arm, staining the edge with his red blood. In his stumble back she rolls off the table.

Harsh stabs are swung to the openings between the pieces of armor, he easily blocks but her movements are quick in succession. He ignites the flamethrower on his arm and she flips out of range.

Six isn’t so lucky.

She lands on his table, he’s charred and slumped over. She grabs a baton resting against his chair, cringing at its touch. Jumping of the table she strikes his helmet. The tune of impact horrifically melodic. 

Brought to his knees, Mando grabs her leg sweeping her onto her back. The baton falls out of her grasp. They tumble on the ground, scathing for any advantage they could find on the other. She slaps a taser disk on his armor, the shocks malfunction the electronics.

The Mandalorian lays on the ground, emitting heavy gasps for air. Sounds of passing credits come from a back table. She straddles him, pulling out the knife kept in the welt of her sleeve. It’s metal presses against his capes fabric gathered around his neck.

A smile twinges under her mask. “Not bad,” she pants, leaning down over him.

The cantina doors automate open, in perfect eye-line, a green little creature. It waddles in, cooing with bright eyes at the patrons, greeting them all. It locks eyes with her, head tilted. The veil of her mask conceals her dropped jaw. 

The Mandalorian takes the chance of her distraction; flipping their bodies over, he straddles her waist, pinning her hands above her head. The assassin’s chest rises and falls heavy from under him. “I told you to wait outside,” he grunts. The green thing coos, waddling to the pair. It reaches out for her. “No,” he says next, raising a scolding finger to it. It whines, plopping on its rear. 

Past the visor, his eyes lock onto hers, he clears his throat. Suggestive positioning aside, he had claim to victory. Though, had it not been for the child he would have been a dead man, throat slit under her knife. 

He could still kill her, his blaster was in reach, so was her knife. 

He should kill her.

But he doesn’t.

“Hey Mandalorian,” she breathes. “Where’s your bounty?” Seven’s seat empty, table broken, shattered porcelain fallen on the floor.

“Fuck,” he swears. He stands, pocketing the knife she held. He picks up the creature, sparing her one last glance. “Stay out of my way,” he warns. Exiting the building she’s left on the floor. 

The surviving witnesses avoid her glare. There are holes in the flooring, broken furniture, blood stains splattered on every surface.

So much for not making a mess indoors.

She scoffs, picking herself up. Her muscles ache, bruises are forming under her clothing, her head pounds.

Carelessly, she shoots Five on her way out.

It’s a redemption of sorts.

Officially, Tatooine was worse than hell.

Chapter One: The Meeting

[joyfulhopelox]

"Right now i don’t know if i want to kiss you or shove you off this building" End

A/N: welp i delayed it as much as possible because life happened and i had no time to do this, but i have managed to finish it whilst procrastinating at work (i advise against that to be honest), part 2 (or the end of this library saga) was meant to be out earlier :( i am pretty sure i wrote most of this high on sleep deprivation but i still hope it is enjoyable to read <3

Picture not mine but i cannot find the owner to credit ><

Part 1 | Part 2(end)

genre: fluff (x100) a tiny bit of angst if you use a binocular, University! au/ College!au

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox do NOT repost

Pairing: J-Hope x reader (College!AU/ University!AU can also call it idiots2lovers au?)

Word count: 4.3k words

Warnings: there one bad word towards the end, if you find libraries to give you a panic attack (i know i did when i was in the midst of exams) be warned and i’m still bad at writing fluff but here we go

-

“I’m Y/N by the way” you looked up in time to see him smile.

“I know”

Ever since that night, you and Hoseok have developed a pattern, you would meet in that spot at odd times in the night and work quietly.

That pattern went on for the last few weeks of your exam period, day after day, or should you say night after night you would rush to the library, albeit telling yourself it was not for the sake of the handsome man with sunshine in his smile and stars in his eyes.

You had to study, and the space that he had revealed to you was convenient and quiet, tucked away from the rest of the prying eyes. Just you and him on that windowsill under the night time sky. As much as you wanted to berate yourself for becoming so mushy, you knew that from the moment he grabbed your hand and took you to that spot trying to carry a conversation with you but immediately going quiet under your glare that your heart had given in. Bit by bit, even if sitting in silence quietly doing your own work your heart had warmed up under his blinding smile. The warmth of his eyes as they would catch your wandering ones did nothing but make your breath catch in your throat and your heart beat at a thousand miles per hour.

You knew you had it bad.

How could you not? After the first few minutes of him having taken you to that spot your annoyance had disappeared into the night below you, leaving room for the feelings of companionship and comfort that Hoseok’s presence brought with him. A week later, as you had started sharing information between the two of you, hushed and secretive as if anyone would be able to hear it, those feelings were replaced by something warmer and softer than companionship and comfort, something akin to safety and friendship. Now as the calendar marks the monthly mark of having met him you realise as you stare at the empty space near the window that it has bloomed into a full fledged....crush.

With feelings of panic raging inside of you, unsure whether they sparked because of your discovery or because the man in question was missing from his usual spot again. The first time even though you had felt the small stab of disappointment you did not think much of it. After all he was not tied to being there every night, maybe he had places to be, other people to spend time with. For a second you allowed a slither of jealousy to pass through your heart thinking that someone else was getting that warm smile for the night, and in the next second you told yourself you are stupid and shrugged it off. That feeling of jealousy never returned, instead it was morphing more and more into worry. The second night he did not appear you wracked your brain for any information that he may have given you that you may have missed about him not being able to come anymore but you could not find anything. In fact, you could not even recall if he has told you what he does outside of your impromptu study sessions. Worry starts gnawing at your stomach after the third and fourth day that he doesn’t come. Even worse is the desperation that takes over when you not only realise you knew very little about Hoseok, but you did not even have a way of contacting him. Briefly chatting about likes, dislikes, dreams and wishes is nothing tangible, nothing that could give you any information on how you could reach out to him and check he is alright.

The fifth and sixth night you start giving up and assume that he has finished his exams and he does not need to study anymore. With a heavy heart you tell yourself he did not owe you anything, he more than made up for stealing your seat that one time. The time you two spent together in silence studying or the times you would secretly bring your heads closer together so that you could whisper random things and share jokes with one another in the silence of the night.

This created an intimacy which you couldn’t lie to yourself, it made you feel fuzzy inside. That elatedness of being so close to this person however, once they had removed themselves from you switched to an empty feeling as if you’ve lost something that you held dear. And maybe you did hold him dear. No, you definitely did.

But he did not arrive, by day seven you had steeled yourself against the tumultuous feelings inside your chest. He was not coming and your exams were not going to pass themselves. The seat by the window did not seem as magical or appealing anymore and thus you also removed yourself from it. Being the end of exam period, multiple departments had already finished theirs and so you found copious amounts of spaces that you did not hesitate to occupy. Trying to get your mind off of the now lonely seat by the window upstairs you threw yourself into your work but once in a while you could not stop yourself from wondering if he ever came back to check whether you were still there or not.

And so, another week has passed and with that it added to another two weeks you had not seen Jung Hoseok. But that was ok.

Until that one fateful day where you had finished your exams and were preparing to finish writing your last assignment which was due in the late afternoon. It was not a night time study session but instead a daytime one. Today would also be the last day you set foot inside the library for the foreseeable future. After today you would have another few days until your break and you had been planning to head home to visit friends and family. Next term you would switch accommodation as well on a different campus which housed its own library. So all in all, today marked the last day of you being in this library for the next year. It also marked the last day you may possibly ever have the chance to see Hoseok again. That thought made you pause in your step and your heart clench for a second. That just did not seem right. It doesn’t matter, you told yourself and kept walking towards the back of the second floor.

Just as you’d finished that thought, as if life had been trying to prove to you that it did matter, or maybe it had been your heart that had conjured him in front of you, there stood Hoseok. Talking with another guy with similar striking features, and yet the total opposite. Whereas Hoseok had dark hair and sharp features this guy had ash blonde hair, was a bit shorter and had a soft look about him. And yet he seemed broodier than Hoseok who seemed to be smiling and laughing at something. You wanted to be angry, and you were, but seeing him smiling so freely released the fist that seemed to have been holding your lungs and it felt like you could breathe easier. He was fine at least, nothing’s happened to him. That did not mean that you would acknowledge his presence. After all, he’s decided that your friendship and companionship was not something he was interested in anymore so you would not force it on him. Steeling your nerves for when you would pass by him, you tried to keep your gaze ahead of you as much as you could, but luck would not have it and his friend’s chuckle made you pause in your step and your brain to react. And so your eyes turned involuntarily towards the two.

You knew that when you had asked him to sit with you on the first day that you had met, you would either make the best decision of your life or the worst. As soon as your eyes locked onto his widened ones, you had decided- it had been the worst mistake of your life.

The clench in your chest is a reminder of the feelings you developed for this person. With his cheerful personality a great contrast of the seriousness with which he treated heavy issues and listened to your problems, it did not take long for your heart to warm up to him.

Eyes locked onto each other it felt like an eternity when in reality it had just been a couple of seconds, before you got pulled out of your thoughts by Hoseok’s friend calling for his attention. Quickly looking away from him as to not rouse suspicion in your own group of friends you missed the furrowed brows and pained look he gave you before his smile took over as he turned towards his companion.

“Is everything ok?” you heard his friend ask. You wish you had not been as close to them as you had been, you had no intention of hearing Hoseok’s reply, but it rang loud and clear in your head.

“Yeah, i just remembered something important.”

That had been a couple of hours ago, and yet his words still rang in your head. You could not understand what he had meant by that. Did he mean you? Did he suddenly remember something else and he did not recognise you? As impossible as you knew that to be, your confused heart kept yelling that the latter was the case. Sighing for the hundredth time you tried to pull your attention back to the last piece of work that kept you away from freedom but it proved to be impossible.

‘I am going to look for a book’ you told your friend who shooed you away, if only for her own piece of mind and quietness. You had been sighing so loudly that you had annoyed everyone around you.

Walking through the shelves perusing for a book- any book, reminded you of that night from weeks ago. Right now that night seemed quite distant and the elated feeling you used to get whilst browsing the shelves was no longer there anymore. Now you were lost in thought, your eyes not focusing on anything really. Randomly grabbing a book without even glancing at the title you prepared to move along and return back to your friends.

You were so lost in thought you almost missed the low whisper of someone calling your name. Your daze now broken and assuming it was one of your friends who’d decided you had been missing for too long, you turned around. Only to discover that it had not been one of your friends- well he was, but you did not know if you had the right to call him that anymore. Most importantly you did not know whether or not your heart had the courage to call him that anymore. Wishing you’d ignored him but now being too late you hummed in acknowledgement praying that you sounded disinterested instead of hurt.

“Hey” he whispered.

“Hello”

After the awkward greeting he did not carry on talking to you and you made no move to carry on with pleasantries. Instead he stood on the spot, his ebony eyes scanning your defensive form. You tried to reciprocate his stare if only to make up for the fact that your shoulders involuntarily hunched and your chin started to slightly quiver. You thought you could act in a civil manner and yet, your body language was saying something completely different. Unable to hold his inquisitive gaze any longer you lower your head and sigh. You were not in the mood to try to chat to someone who clearly has no interest in your person, and pretending would only cause more harm. And yet, when a low indiscernible sound made its way out of his mouth, your eyes snapped back onto him as quickly as they could, hoping and praying that this was it. He would finally say something to you.

He smiled at you uncertainly. ‘Here we are again’ he cleared his throat. You did not know if it was the tone of his voice which read nothing or if it was the way he kept gazing at you. Gentle and sympathetic, as if you would break if anything short of a breeze would touch you. Maybe you would break, if the anger that took over your system was any indication of your haphazard feelings. Looking at Hoseok incredulously you tried to reign your anger in.

“What?”

“You- uhm you stole my book” he motioned to the book you had been carelessly swinging around in an attempt to protect yourself from any attempt of his approaching you. His change in attitude and uncertain tone almost made you miss the reference he was trying to make.

Instead of coming back with a witty reply, as he’d been expecting, your brain frazzled. You did the only thing you could do in this situation. You sputtered an i’m sorry and immediately handed the book to him preparing to leave his immediate vicinity.

Sensing your hesitancy and seeing your distraught face made his heart drop. Had he done something wrong? As hurt as he was for you ignoring him, he cared so he worried about you more than he did about his feelings.

“Hey, you ok?” he inquired and your body froze on the spot. You could have very easily chosen to ignore him and his question, keep walking, out of the library, out of his life. And yet, something stopped you. You needed an explanation, it was killing you on the inside. You would have tried to carry on without thinking about him for months before you’d manage to go back to some semblance of normalcy. But why waste those months wallowing in what ifs. Why not hear it straight from him.

“Where were you?” not one for pleasantries still you turned around and grimaced at his confused expression.

“What do you mean where was i? I told you where i would be” he responded, his brows furrowing. “No you didn’t” you insisted crossing your arms in front of you as if in an attempt to cover your weakness. “I haven’t got a clue what you are talking about, i haven’t seen you here in weeks” trying to tone down the desperation in your voice you blurted out the first words that came to mind, only to regret that decision a moment later.

“That is because i have not been in here in weeks” he had the nerve to look sheepish.

“And you have the nerve to tell me i would know where you were?” he opened his mouth to reply but you carried on, not trusting yourself to be able to get your thoughts and feelings out in the open at a later date. “ I waited to talk to you, i wanted to talk to you….no, i needed to talk to you. And because of that my past few weeks of exams have been spent thinking about whether or not i should go look for you or if i should just give up and leave a….”

Note!

Realisation dawned on you, he had tried to reach out to you. In the only way he could, considering that you had not shared any personal contacts with each other. He had left a note, just as you have done. And just as before, the note had probably fallen down in a place where you had completely missed it. Not responding to him, you grabbed his hand trying to ignore the feeling of coming home that it gave you and headed for the lifts. Pushing the button towards your tower you shushed him as soon as he tried to say your name.

“Where exactly are we going?” you would have laughed at the repetitiveness of the situation if not for the slight anger at your own stupidity and embarrassment at the fact that you had not let go of his hand and you did not intend to. It seemed like neither was he.

Reaching the tower, you headed straight for the window you had called yours and Hoseok’s up until a few months ago. Coming to an abrupt stop, causing Hoseok to bump into your back you turned around and finally addressed him. “We’re both idiots” you chuckled to yourself.

He observed you for a few seconds, his dark eyes taking in every little detail of your features as if committing them to memory before finally coming to settle onto your own eyes. Staring at each other you couldn’t take his gaze anymore so you turned around, figuring that you may just as well look for the note that had been left for you to miss apparently.

Scouring the area and only turning around once you found the crumpled piece of paper in between the foot of the desk you had been using and the wall. “What are you doing?” he tried again taking steps closer to you until he was a step away from bumping into your form. Looking around he motioned behind him, “I thought you said you’d never come back here” then he looked back at you pleadingly, “or talk to me again” he whispered the last part as if it was the biggest of his fears. And maybe it was, for you it definitely was. You did not need to tell him you’d made a huge mistake in anger when you’d said that.

Waving the note around you smiled at him. “We’re idiots” you motioned to the note and finally opened it. As your eyes skimmed through you could feel the smile slipping off your face and the sting of the gathering tears. “Idiot” you whispered to yourself.

“Ah” he was so close to you now, if you tried hard enough you could feel the heat emanating from him. As he talked, his breath fanned the hair that had fallen onto your face. He was close enough that you were sure he could hear the pumping of your heart, your breath hitched. Not daring to look at him, you stared at the note, your hands starting to tremble.

‘Dear Y/N,

I have tried my best to write the best confession I could, but i am afraid i am not able to express myself in the ways i wish i could. These past few weeks have been a struggle for me to not blurt out something that could have prematurely ended what friendship we have formed over a stolen study space. I do not have the courage to say this to your face so i will write it down here in hopes that by the time i meet you again the embarrassment would have passed.

I told you i cannot express myself properly, as i am writing this my hands are sweating and my mind is in chaos. I find it very difficult to not act like an idiot when i think about you, let alone when i see you or speak to you. To be able to convey my feelings in person seems impossible so here i go….

I like you. I like you a lot.

There it is, but please give it a few days. I will stop coming here for now so that i can gather myself for your response and lets meet again in the cafe next to the library in 3 days.

Yours,

Jung Hoseok’

“So you did not find it in the end” he mused not moving away from you. “ That is understandable considering that we seem to have been in this situation before” he softly chuckled. You would have stopped to consider how lovely that sound was if not for the fact that you were still frozen on the spot, your brain calculating how long it’s been since that note had been left there. A sense of excitement then washed over you. He liked you! He shared your feelings. But that was to be washed soon by the sense of dread, it’s been weeks. And you had not fulfilled his request of meeting him, has everything changed now? Would things be different? Would he resent you for not meeting him there in the first place?

“Hey- look at me” he softly tried to coax you, noticing the slow trickle of tears running down your face. Refusing to do so, you shook your head trying to get yourself together. You would face this with your head up, not crying and taking responsibility for missing his note.

“Look at me, please” a gentle finger lifted your head up by the chin. Your stubbornness prevailed, your refusal to look at him still strong. You closed your eyes tightly, willing your tears to subside. A soft touch underneath your eyelids made you gasp softly, the warmth of his fingertips trailing over the tracks your tears have made. The fleeting touch coaxed your eyes to finally open, your blurry vision taking in the affectionate look on his face.

“There you go” he smiled fondly, never in a million years had he thought he’d get the chance to be so close to you in such an intimate manner. The late nights you had shared together, whereas you were sitting closely together you were always divided by a desk. He tried his hardest throughout that period of time to not blurt out his feelings for you, if only to not make it awkward. Unfortunately, as nights went by and you two got closer and closer together, it became too much for him. He knew he had to say something before he imploded and blurted out how cute you looked when you were struggling to not bite the end of your pen in concentration. He tried to be brave and do it in person for a couple of nights in a row, only to chicken out every time you would share a smile with him or laugh at one of his jokes. So he decided he’s not going to tell you in person, he is going to write you a letter and leave it on the desk, in the memory of the first time you’d met.

He should have known though, the first time you’d met was because of a note disappearance disaster. And whereas that had worked in his favour, this time it had not. He’d written- if you could call that blurb writing, the note and waited for a couple of days to prepare himself for your response. He knew it would not be a positive one. And when he ended up waiting in the cafe the whole day with no word from you, he became even more uncertain. Sadness came first, then panic. Not once had he considered that maybe, maybe you haven't seen the note. Really stupid of him.

He could not go back to the library after your refusal to meet him in the cafe, or what he thought was your refusal. That decision seemed to further the misunderstandings between the two of you. You thought he was avoiding you and he thought you did not want to see him at all after finding out about his feelings. Right now though, staring at your tear ridden face he knew your answer, there was no doubt about it.

Laughing in relief he cupped your face. “We have indeed both been idiots, should have known history would repeat itself”

You knew it was now or never. “Is it too late?” Your meek voice reached his ears and he tried his best not to laugh and present you with the most serious face he could muster. Whilst still cupping your face he rubbed the remnant tears that were threatening to leave salt marks on your cheek. Your focus now solely on him and on his expression, you gulped. He was going to say…

“Yes” you closed your eyes again, suddenly feeling a cold shiver gripping your whole body. You had feared that would be the answer, but hearing it from his mouth whilst his eyes were giving nothing away but a mirror of your own pained eyes. You told yourself you would be brave and take the responsibility. But being faced with the decision of having to let him go for good you could not stand it. “I’m sorry” you whispered, lowering your head in shame. “Is there nothing I can do?”

A last desperate attempt but you had to try.

Feeling him move a step away from you, your heart clenched in panic.

“Yes, we lost too much time. You could give me an answer now?” He tried, this time confident in your response.

A myriad of feelings cursing through you at the same time. Shock, relief, happiness; and all from his words. “Idiot, right now I don’t know if I want to kiss you or shove you of this building” you gave out a short laugh.

Hoseok was slowly closing the distance between the two of you once again. A shit eating grin plastered all over his face he cupped your face once again and lowered his head to yours until all you could see were his soft lips and all you could feel was his warm breath on your face. Slowly descending onto yours, lips finally meeting in a brief kiss only making you crave more. But as you went to respond he pulled away, the grin still present.

“How about I make that decision for you?”

You laughed and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket pulling him to you once again this time in a longer kiss.

A/N: I am not going to lie i think i struggled at the end but thank you for reading this if you have reached this point :) when work stops killing me i will try to post the moodboard i created for this and for future fics that i will be writing, i'm treating my journal as my moodboard for writing inspo instead of actual journalling and i find it more fun and enjoyable that way

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