#because they were doing loud drilling on the automatic doors

[flappyhappystim]

Any sensory issues you have are valid. You aren’t being too “sensitive” or “over dramatic” because you experience sensory overload. You aren’t being difficult if you can’t touch certain textures or handle certain situations. People that don’t experience it have a hard time understanding it but please don’t let them convince you your sensory issues aren’t valid.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Chores

Things I have had to deal with, or am continuing to deal with, today:

Sinus headache (ongoing)

Upstairs neighbour doing very loud DIY (ongoing, and without so much as a “sorry for the inconvenience” note shoved under my door)

Conversation with my stepfather about financial bits (finished)

Yeah, if I’d known that today was when my upstairs neighbour was going to be hammering and drilling in the afternoon, I might not have picked today for the “Let’s see what we can do about getting your National Insurance contributions up to date” chat with my stepfather. Still, that chat went well.

Oh, I should explain ‘that chat’ for the non-UK people. See, we’ve got a state pension here, paid out by virtue of National Insurance contributions. This comes out of your paycheques automatically, which is why your employer needs your National Insurance number when they’re paying you. Thing is, there’s a certain threshold for NI contributions, and there were several years in there where my contributions did not reach the required threshold for a full NI contribution for the year because I was working as a temp ... or rather, because I was registered as a temp but not actually working because no assignments, but also not claiming Universal Credit (or whatever the benefits were at the time) because I was still holding out hope that that week was the week I’d get an assignment. Now that I am in a stable job, they want to fill some of those gaps in my NI contributions so that I can claim a full state pension when I retire. ...I mean, that’s assuming that state pensions are still accessible by the time it comes to my retirement age, and that the age at which one can claim one’s state pension doesn’t go up so high that I die before I’m eligible for it, but let’s be optimistic. Thing is, it’s a process, apparently, and is going to involve me calling HM Revenue and Customs to set it up before we can even aim for online payment. I don’t get it either, but it’s something I can look at tomorrow. Mostly because ... holy shit, I am not ringing the tax office with that much drilling and hammering going on upstairs.

Also I fed my stepfather some of my homemade instant hot chocolate and he liked it very much. Apparently this was also very well-timed because my mother was looking for powdered milk and apparently assumed it didn’t exist because she couldn’t find it in the tiny supermarket nearest to their place. I demonstrated the existence of dried milk with the fixings for my next batch of homemade instant hot chocolate, so he’s going home with that lovely bit of information. He was also quite happy to take some of the mint chocolate fudge I foisted on him - I mean, like hell was I going to eat it all on my own.

I did other chores today too. Mostly involving breaking down one very large box for the recycling, and taking out the garbage. Still, that’s a bit of a feat for me given that lugging that stuff down the stairs, outside, and out to the little shed where our dumpsters are is problematic at best. After all, when the load is awkward, I can’t use my cane. Leaves me with a bit of ow. And I get to compound that with sinus ow and “OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE PLEASE STOP THE NOISE” ow.

So for now, quick break, MOAR HOT CHOCOLATE MIX (I still have some but I’ve been having big mugs of it because it’s gorgeous and a good thing to have as a hot drink before bed when I don’t want coffee because caffeine but don’t want my sleepytime herbal tea either, so I need more), trip to the corner shop, and then maybe more demos. Or just something Zen, I dunno; my head hurts.

[pippytmi]

1, 4, 14?

The one hope Kara has for her roommate is that Lena Luthor will not be a smoker.

Alex had told her not to have high expectations; after all, this roommate arrangement was all organized through Winn, and Alex has always stated that she doesn’t trust this man’s self-preservation tactics. (“Once, during an earthquake drill, he started to climb up the building. Kara, what kind of a moron does that?”)

But Kara isn’t as cynical as her sister…or quite as mean. So she trusts that Winn’s people skills are better than his survival skills, and resolves not to write off Lena by virtue of association alone. It’s expensive enough to live in National City; when Winn had promised a roommate that “probably won’t be tempted to murder anyone anytime soon,” that had honestly been a good enough draw. (That had, of course, been sandwiched in a perfectly normal explanation about Lena being the best student in their shared pre-med classes—Winn maintains that anyone pursuing med school that rigorously will be too tired to consider recreational murder on the side.)

So Kara takes her tentatively-moderate-expectations—along with a box of donuts as a gift—and makes her way to apartment 9b. This is technically her first time ever being a real roommate; her only other experience was sharing a wall with Alex during their teenage years, and occasionally during their college years when they weren’t driving each other crazy. So maybe, because she’s never had to deal with boundaries or tact with her sister, she kind of…abandons all formalities and just uses her brand new key to open the front door.

(In hindsight, she really should have knocked first.)

“Golly!” Almost immediately, Kara is jumping right back out into the hallway, and the box of donuts is falling to a tragic death on the carpet. Oh no. Oh gosh. This is more embarrassing than trying to climb up the library during an earthquake drill—

She is still sitting on the floor, dumbstruck, with maple glaze smearing on her jeans when the door opens again. Lena Luthor pokes her head out, and she is simultaneously everything Kara expected and everything she didn’t. Per Winn’s description, Lena is indeed “classically beautiful,” and she has one of those faces: slightly closed off, hesitant to emote much. And when she has clothes on, she truly does have the fashion sense of an aspiring college professor, albeit with a touch more lipstick than Kara would expect.

“Okay, maybe I’m crazy,” Lena says slowly, “but did I hear you say that out loud?”

Kara immediately lifts her head up to squint at the direction of the strange voice. Lena has very pretty green eyes, but they are exceptionally confused at the moment. “What?” she says, echoing that same perplexment in her own voice.

“I could’ve sworn you said ‘golly,’ like some kind of peasant in a Christmas Carol or something,” Lena says, as if that’s a totally normal route of conversation to take after being caught naked. She leans halfway out the door, looking down at Kara with that attractive, baffled expression on her face, and all Kara has taken from this encounter so far is that her new roommate is hot.

“I...did say that,” Kara says after a beat. “But in my defense, I was completely surprised.” As one might be walking in on anybody naked, she thinks, but doesn’t actually say out loud.

“Right.” And then Lena frowns, slightly, in a manner that makes her lipsticked mouth twist down a corner. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming by today. I could have sworn your text mentioned your move in day being the third.”

Kara stretches her leg out and pretends the sole of her shoe isn’t caked in chocolate icing. “Today is the third,” she points out, and then hastily adds, “And um—I’m sorry. I should have knocked. I just didn’t know you were…”

“Showering,” Lena finishes, at the same time Kara says,

“...a nudist.”

Lena stares. And then she blinks, and then she stares some more. “What?” This time, that careful kind of confusion entirely drops, and now she’s looking at Kara like she has grown two heads. “How do you automatically jump to that?”

“Because you’re naked in the middle of the day?!” It’s pretty self-explanatory in her opinion, but Kara still gets up off the floor in order to better face her new roommate (and because it feels strangely like she is the one being judged right now). “Everyone knows that showering is a night or a morning time thing—walking around naked any other time is weird.”

“Wow,” Lena says, and she actually crosses her arms, further cementing the whole Kara-is-the-one-being-judged thing. “I can’t believe you think nudists are weird. That’s pretty ironic coming from Tiny Tim.”

“Hey, I never said I thought nudists were weird. Just, their hobbies are. Is being naked a hobby?” Kara considers delving into that discussion, but Lena is squinting at her (and Lena has a very piercing squint), so she drops the subject. “Anyway, it’s fine if you’re a nudist. I can just…start wearing sunglasses inside, or something.”

“Because my naked body is that blinding?” Lena scowls. “I don’t go out in the sun much, alright, so sue me for being pale—”

“That’s not what I meant!” Kara blurts, helpless, and she knows in that instant she’s gone entirely red in the face. “I, uh. I didn’t mean to sound judge-y. Really, I don’t care what you do in your spare time. Unless…can I ask if you smoke?”

And it is with that sheepish question that Lena’s affrontive attitude slowly begins to fade. “No,” she says, in a manner that is faintly amused. “But I’m glad that’s your priority. Seriously? Are you really just going to say you’d be fine if I spent every single waking moment in our apartment naked?”

Kara shrugs, still flushed up to the tips of her ears, and makes a valiant effort not to think about that when Lena almost-smiles she can see the indent of a possible dimple on her cheek. “Well, if that’s what you want,” Kara says. “I won’t…stare or anything, I promise.”

“That’s comforting, but I’m not a nudist.” Lena smiles, and yep—dimple—Kara is pretty much done for.

“Okay.”

“No, I mean it.” And then that smile drops as Lena suddenly reconsiders something. “Also, why do you assume it’s weird to be naked in the afternoon?”

Kara gestures vaguely with her hands to where her watch would be. “Because,” she says, “it’s weird to shower in the afternoon.”

“But what if I had been naked for another reason besides showering?” Lena apparently has the ability to raise her whole eyebrow, and it’s unfair how mesmerizing that is.

“Like…non-nudist reasons?” Kara asks, and Lena’s smile comes back in a mischievous form.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Uh,” Kara says ineloquently, and suddenly her mind is coming up with far too many scenarios that she really shouldn’t. “That would be fine. Too. I mean, I can wear earplugs with the sunglasses. Or I can just wait out here too, until you’re…done. The carpet here is pretty comfortable. Is it the same in the apartment? ‘Cause if so, I mean, the landlord really outdid himself. I’ve had carpets that aren’t half as fluffy in hotel rooms that charged way more than—”

Lena cracks the door wider, and then her gaze drifts over towards where Kara’s housewarming donut gift has landed. “Have I broken you?” she asks. “Or are you always this awkward around naked women?”

“I’m—what?” Kara sputters. “I’m completely normal around naked women. Sometimes I am also a naked women.”

“Right,” Lena says, “when you shower in the morning. Or night.”

Kara frowns. “Yes,” she says, “and that's completely normal. And not weird.”

“Noted.” Lena pulls open the door the rest of the way, then throws a dangerous sort of smirk over her shoulder. “You are Kara Danvers, right? I’d hate to have to re-do the apartment tour, so if you’ve just come to break in, I have to warn you: I’m saving for med school, so I pretty much own nothing of value.”

“Yeah, no, I’m...Kara,” Kara says, slightly bewildered, but she gathers her bag and her donut box trash and follows Lena inside; she’ll have to deal with the mess outside later. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself. I just forgot, with the whole…”

“It’s alright.” Lena scrunches her nose up apologetically, suddenly quite sheepish; if Kara had to pick a word, she’d call the tic adorable. “I didn’t exactly introduce myself either. Well, at least in the traditional sense.” She leads Kara into the kitchen, where there is a bottle of wine sitting on the table. “Can I make it up to you with a drink?”

And Kara doesn’t know how, exactly, she’s going to live like this—going to live with the knowledge that her new roommate apparently showers in the afternoon, and drinks a whole bottle of wine alone, and makes sexual references to people she’s known for all of twenty minutes. In other words:

“Yeah,” Kara says, nudging her glasses up her nose and delighting in the curve of Lena’s ensuing smile. “I could go for a drink.”

[sunfish-studies]

Pen and Paper

✄・・・ Crisp Leaves [Aoba Johsai Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Aoba Johsai x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: I wonder if crackhead-ness of this team could be considered as a warning? Temporary mute reader.

➜ Notes: Manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall, around 170.5 cm.

↷ SUMMARY ↶

People need to watch what they say because it will sometimes bite them back the least they expected–leaving a damage worth hundred times more.

If Oikawa wasn’t having the best mood, then everyone expected mutiny like this happened–him channeling all of his frustration in his jump serves. Not just one, not just two, the whole trolley of volleyball will be finished by him alone–and still not enough.

It was pure raw strength–the ball ricochet and the loud sound it produced once it slammed to the ground was no joke. The first years and second years was hesitant to remind him not to push himself too much, somehow knowing if they did that they will feel the spare of his wrath.

Only third years and the coach could throw hands in this matter.

Practice was over almost an hour ago and Oikawa wouldn’t be stopping soon. Iwaizumi was gripping the ball in his hands a little too tight–signaling that he was indeed in the brink of exploding himself. Maybe around the next minute there will be chaos.

“Tooru, practice is over. We need to go home,” that’s where [Name]’s duty lies. As a manager, it was necessary for her to take care of the members and remind them not to overwork.

Being ignored by the said brunette was expected–this happened countless of times back in their middle school days and somehow didn’t change. She hoped to evade violence as much as she could, especially when Iwaizumi doesn’t use words and proceeded to punch the lights out of Oikawa instead.

“Tooru, your knee is injured,” she said again. “The doctor said about not putting too much pressure on it. It’s time to stop.”

The third time’s the charm, she prayed. Sighing harshly from the lack of respond and on-going rebellion forced her to grabbed onto Oikawa’s arm. “Tooru-“

“Can’t you just shut up for once!?” he yanked his arm away with a harsh bat. Facing her with pure anger apparent on his face was something usual–however, it still brought her shoulders tensed up from the pure fury shone from those brown eyes. “Shut up and leave me alone! Isn’t that simple enough to do!?”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi already growled with the same intensity of anger, marching towards the two as he rolled his sleeve. There will be unavoidable fist fight and then more problem will ensue.

“Stop it, Hajime,” [Name] stated sternly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If you two got into fight, you’ll be banned from practice for the whole week. Coach made it extremely clear about fighting between teammates.”

She wasn’t even joking about it and both Oikawa and Iwaizumi knew, which was why with a click of his tongue the brunette began gathering the balls in fast pace. After he finished tidying up, he went straight towards the exit–slamming the door shut.

“He needs to cool down for some time,” [Name] remarked, loud enough to be heard by the whole members left behind. “So, just leave him alone for now. Until he decides to talk like he used to, let him be.”

“Y-yes, senpai…”

                                                           ✎ . . . .

“WHAT!?” and the first minute of practice started with an unexpected chaos from the most least person who’s likely did so. The whole team instantly had their attention zeroed on their assistant coach, Coach Mizoguchi. Not only that, Coach Irihata had his eyes widened in disbelief. In front of the two was their manager standing.

“Do you need a break?” the older man questioned, eyes radiating worry. The reply he got was a head shook from their manager. There was pregnant silence before the coach continued. “Are you sure? Isn’t it the best to get some rest?”

A head shook became an answer, which made Coach Irihata sighed in defeat–probably relenting on her insistence on something. “Alright, but if you’re not feeling well somehow just tell me and you’re excused to go home.”

“Everyone, gather around!” Coach Mizoguchi called out, and automatically they left their activities behind to line up in front of their coaches and manager. Once the man studied all of them to made sure they were all gathered, he started with a sigh. “We have an unfortunate thing happens.”

“Your manager can’t speak at the moment,” Coach Irihata didn’t want to beat around the bush and decided to straight up telling the whole team the truth.

“Uhm, what do you mean Coach…?” Iwaizumi asked slowly, trying to comprehend the statement from before.

“Apparently, your manager lost her voice.” The older man repeated. “And for the time being, she will communicate with all of you using her notebook.”

There was silence that befall the gym for a few minutes before chaos ensued.

“WHAT!?”

“How did that happen!?”

“Are you okay, Otohaku-senpai!?”

“But that doesn’t mean she’s not participating in practice or anything, she will do her work as usual.” Coach Irihata continued, his words successfully got the team’s shrieks of disbelief under control. “That’s why, if I found out that somehow you’re troubling your manager, there will be drills to compensate. Do I make myself clear?”

Series of gulps could be heard from the subtle threat looming over. “U-Understood, Coach…”

“Now, dismiss!”

                                                          ✎ . . . .

“Oi, are you sure you’re okay?” Iwaizumi was the first one to ask, however he was followed by the others almost immediately once the coach told them that it’s break time. Giving them already-filled water bottles was [Name]’s duty, and he thought it was a great time to begin questioning. “Shouldn’t you be home and getting bed rest of something?”

After handing the Ace his bottle, [Name] automatically reached out for the notebook in her jacket pocket. Opening an empty page, she began scribbling for some time then shoving the object onto Iwaizumi’s face.

‘I’m fine. There’s no fever or anything. In fact, I feel normal besides losing my ability to speak.’

“Do you have a doctor’s appointment for this?” Matsukawa questioned next.

‘My mom already arranged one. Maybe we’ll go a day after tomorrow.’

“S-senpai,” this time, it was Kindaichi. “D-do you maybe do something or eat something that could possibly led to this?’

[Name] hummed soundlessly, contemplating about her junior’s words before she’s back to writing. ‘Nothing in particular. I had dinner like usual, finishing my homework, and sleep normally. Just after I woke up, I realized I couldn’t reply to my mom calling from downstairs.’

“Are you sure you’re alright, senpai?” Watari asked in concern. “Maybe you really should take a short break like the coach suggested…”

‘I’m fine, Watari-kun. This doesn’t hinder my work at all. On the good side, you don’t need to hear my annoying voice-‘

“DON’T SAY THAT!!”

Oikawa’s voice suddenly booming across the gym–startling all of them in the process. Pairs of eyes focused on him and his abruptness.

“I-We love your voice, [Nickname]-chan!” the brunette stated. “You always cheered on us, taking care of us, helping us in team meetings! I know it’s my fault because I told you to shut up, it’s just my anger speaking! I didn’t mean any of those words!”

“Ah, so in the end, it’s your fault,” Iwaizumi smiling, however the aura oozing from his figure was anything but nice. He was out for blood–and the grip he had on the water bottle was borderline dangerous it could break the object.

“I-I didn’t mean to, I swear!” Oikawa shrieked, raising his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry!”

The vice-captain was absolutely ready to give their captain a good beating, fortunately, a notebook shoved onto Oikawa’s face came to save his day (and probably his life). Holding onto the book carefully, he read every single word written on the surface of the paper.

‘It’s not your fault, Tooru. Sometimes, anger blinds us. I know you don’t mean it, so it’s alright. You have a rough day too, right?’

“[Nickname]-chan!!” in return, he jumped onto their manager–giving her a tight hug, burying his face into her shoulder. She sighed soundlessly at his childish antic but still returning the gesture by patting his back gently.

“So, it’s because of what happened yesterday?” Kunimi concluded. “Could this be karma for Oikawa-san?’

Hanamaki laughed. “You can count it that way.”

 -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Extra [The Next Day]

“Good morning, everyone!”

“OTOHAKU-SENPAI!!”

“Yahaba-san, you’re crying…”

“Let him be, Kunimi. We’re all worried about her, aren’t we?”

“Issei, where do you put the bibs away?”

“Oh, it’s in the box next to the poles. I moved it.”

“[NICKNAME]-CHAN!!!”

“Stop clinging onto our manager, Shittykawa!”

Ah, yes, finally another normal day in practice.

[holykillercake]

One Year

pairing: Zoro x Reader

word count: 2k

summary: No summary this time. I´ll just say this ¨Bartholomew Kuma and Sabaody¨. Read at your own risk. Seriously, ¨KUMA AND SABAODY¨, do you understand?

highlight: ¨Everyone did their best, but no one could have done better.¨

warnings: angst with happy ending; Sabaody Archipelago spoilers (?)

notes: Hey guys! This was a request from @roronoatrash​ in which ¨Zoro who has 0 sense of direction seemed to always find his way back to is s/o, and his s/o only.¨. I really hope you like it!💚 This is also the first time I write a Devil Fruit user, so I'm considering a sequel to develop the character and add more humor.

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

It was a cloudy and melancholic day in the New World. The men on board were leisurely enjoying their afternoon; some drinking, some napping, some eating. The air was humid and cold, and the tides were strangely calm. No one seemed to care. After all, that was the New World. 

¨Boss!¨ the lookout shouted from the crow's nest ¨Something is falling from the sky! It´s going to land on deck!¨

All men tilted their heads to look at the sky, watching a tiny black spot become bigger and more recognizable.

¨Is that what I think it is?¨ the captain asked himself, not believing his eyes.

¨Boss, is that a girl?¨

¨Yep, I think so.¨

They stood still watching what they suspected was a girl fall from the skies. The red-haired took a quick glimpse at his first-mate and officers, and since no one moved, he felt safe to assume that that was not a threat. Mainly because whatever was falling towards the ship looked dead already. 

The body fell through the main deck and went straight to the lower level of the ship. The captain and his officers stood around the hole on the wooden floor, observing the unconscious and injured body of a girl. 

¨I´ve seen some crazy things rain around here... but this is new.¨ he spoke.

They were ready to have someone dispose of the dead body when the girl opened her eyes, putting herself on her shaky legs. Blood dripped from her eyebrows and nose, and she had bruises all over. Her eyes wandered around as if she was looking for something.

¨Z-Zoro...¨ she spoke when her teary eyes met the captain´s ¨I-I need to find Zoro.¨ 

That was all she said before falling on her knees and collapsing. 

                                                             </>

Almost a year has passed since the tragedy in Sabaody Archipelago. A year passed since you were defeated in the fight against the marine force. Your gashes closed, and your bruises healed, but there was a wound that would not go away, even after one year. 

So much had happened since that day. Luffy had broken into Impel Down, fought in the Paramount War, and lost his brother, Ace. A few days later you received the hidden message he had left you, saying that you were no longer going to meet in Sabaody in three days but in two years.

It took you a while to understand the situation you and the rest of the Strawhats were in, and it took you even more to let go of your selfishness and trust them. The guilt for not being strong enough to protect yourself and your comrades ate you alive during the first weeks, but then you considered how they must be feeling too. No one could have done better. 

Everyone did their best, but no one could have done better. 

For one year, whenever a News Coo flew by to deliver a newspaper, you would run and grab it before anyone did, hoping to see another message from your friends. But the status of your captain was the only one you knew so far. You knew he was training with Rayleigh-san, and this whole two years thing should have been his idea. 

When Bartholomeu Kuma used his Devil Fruit powers on you, you ended up landing on the ship of the Red Hair Pirates. They would always tell you how you rained on their Red Force and broke the deck floor. They said you were looking for someone, and during your stay in the infirmary, you would always call for the same person. 

For months nightmares had you waking up in the middle of the night panting and crying. The same one, torturing you in an infinite and merciless loop. 

Every detail, color, and noise. Everything was so precise and clear in your head. 

When he fought still injured from the last encounter with the Shichibukai; when he stood up and faced the Warlord fearlessly. Even with the damages caused by Kizaru and the Pacifistas, he stood up. 

And maybe your eyes fooled you, maybe your exhausted body played a sick trick on you because he was there until he wasn´t.

 Right in front of your eyes.

 His cropped green hair and tanned skin, the vibrant red and white striped shirt, the scar across his chest, the haramaki, and the swords. Gone, simple as that. 

But after all the training that you had with the Red Hair Pirates, you seemed more in peace with yourself. After one year, the nightmares would bother you only every once in a while. You were not prepared for the New World before, maybe still aren´t, but you will get there. 

And they made everything easier. It was no mystery why Luffy liked them so much. Whenever you were not engaged in a fight or some other Emperor crap, those guys were incredibly light-spirited. And the moment they realized you were part of Luffy´s crew they treated your wounds and welcomed you onboard. 

Shanks agreed to have his men training you, but he made very clear that no one would babysit you, so it was ¨keep up or keep out.¨. You spent most of your time with Yassop, Benn, or Roux, for they were the best in the abilities you exercised. 

Inside the Strawhats you were a stealth agent, mostly because of your Devil Fruit, the Nagi Nagi no Mi, once possessed by a Marine Commander. Another Supernova, the Surgeon of Death Trafalgar Law had told you that before shit broke in Sabaody. 

You used that combined with your fighting skills to breach the enemy´s first line of defense before they saw you coming. Usually, Usopp would assist you with the sniper training, trade he ¨learned from a friend¨, Sogeking. 

His father was an extraordinary sniper, and he used the same kind of firearms as you, differently than Usopp´s slingshot. Benn´s combat skills were remarkable, and Roux was exceptionally fast for a man his size. You haven´t had a lot of opportunities to fight the Red Hair himself, though you had a strong will, his Haki was something you have never seen before. 

¨We´re going to a bar, kid. You´re coming?¨ Benn asked you with his cigarette on his lips. 

You pondered a little over his invitation but decided to decline it. ¨Thanks, Benn, but I´m keeping a low profile tonight.¨ He nodded and smiled, turning to follow his crewmates ¨Don´t drink too much, we have training tomorrow!¨ 

The first mate laughed shortly and spoke without looking at you ¨Roger that, kid.¨ 

You walked the opposite way, wandering between the vegetables and gimmicks tents, feeling the kind sunset kiss your skin. There was some music playing, kids running around with ice cream in their hands, laughing loudly and happily. Marketers were announcing their prices, housewives were thinking about delicious recipes to prepare for their families, and couples would sit together around the font, swearing love to each other.

Every day was like that. The citizens would wish their neighbors ¨good morning¨ from their windows; bakers would open the doors early, letting the delightful smell of fresh bread wake up those who slept in.  

How could you, in the middle of all that happiness, feel so sad and lost?

You sighed and made a route change. Maybe you needed a little bit of booze. 

The island where Shanks had decided to dock was in the Grand Line, a place where they were known and welcomed. So you knew where they were, and it would be a short walk to get there.

¨Y/N?¨ 

You turned automatically, thinking that a crew member had gotten lost and was looking for his captain - or boss, how he likes to be called.

 But when you saw the man standing in front of you, everything stopped. The music, the kids, and the love promises. 

At some point, you started to cry and hyperventilate, believing you were in another nightmare, and you would have to go through that day all over again. Your lover carried pain in his eyes as well, like his fears were the same as yours. 

Those minutes you stared at each other felt like hours while you kept every detail of him in your memory. His hair was slightly longer, and his complexion was paler, even with the sunset painting his skin. 

¨Z-Zoro...¨ you whispered shakily.

He gave a step forward ¨Y/N... it´s you...¨ 

You ran in his direction as soon as your name fell out of his mouth. Your arms embraced his neck, and your legs gave up when he held you tight against his body, whispering comforting words as you broke into tears. 

¨I...¨ nothing but sobs came out.

¨I know... me too.¨ he fondled your hair and hid his face in the curve of your neck. And there stood the both of you, not wanting to let the other go. 

                                                          </>

¨How did you know I was here?¨ you asked and he blushed a little.

¨I didn´t... I had to buy stuff for the castle, and I got lost.¨ a loud laugh came out of your mouth. It was so obvious, how didn´t you guess that?

¨They didn´t give you a log pose?¨

¨They did, but I took a nap and when I woke up, I was here.¨

You spent the rest of the day cuddling on the beach sand. Zoro was laying on his back, and you were resting on his chest. You had one year worth of conversation to catch up on, and neither of you rushed to do so. He told you about Mihawk, the creepy island in which the only native habitants were copycat human drills, the boat he destroyed, and even how he begged the Warlord to train him.

The sun had started to hide behind the sea, and the warm sand was cooling down. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore together with the salty breeze made you question if you had died at some point, and that was heaven.

¨You´re paler.¨ he chuckled.

¨It´s not very sunny where I´m living.¨ 

¨Hm...¨ you hummed ¨And how long did you take to figure out Luffy´s message?¨ 

¨Oh...¨ he thought for a second ¨ I knew right away.¨ you giggled and doodled on his chest with your finger. 

You felt his chest go up and down as he let out a sigh. 

¨I missed you, Y/N.¨ he hugged you tighter. 

¨I missed you too.¨ you stayed in silence for a few minutes ¨Anyway, when are you setting sail again?¨ You asked him softly, and he tensed up. ¨I know... ¨ your lips began to tremble ¨ I don´t want to go either, but what happened in Sabaody... I don´t want that to happen ever again.¨ you bit your lip as tears started to roll on your cheeks. 

He wiped the tears with his fingers and pulled you closer. None of you wanted to part ways again, but not only those were your captain´s order that was your future. If something like that happens again in the New World, a two-year separation would be the best scenario possible. 

¨It won´t. I promise.¨

When the night came, you decided to stay on the beach and talked until you fell asleep under the stars. The best sleep you´ve had in a long time. No nightmares, no agony, and no pain. Just the warmth and peace you missed so much.

On the following morning, you helped him get the provisions for Mihawk´s castle. You toured around the city holding hands and joking, kinda like the couples sitting by the font, enjoying every second you had before he left. 

If he didn´t get lost trying to go back to Kuraigana Island, it would be a quick trip. You assisted him with the bags and walked him to his boat. Your heart ached to say goodbye to him, but you had to. The circumstances were bigger than the two of you.

¨I love you, Zoro.¨ you hugged him and tried not to cry again.

¨I love you more, Y/N.¨

¨Careful with the naps, ok?¨ he chuckled and nodded ¨One year. We´ll meet again in one year.¨ 

¨Wait for me. I´ll go get you, and we´ll return to Sabaody together.¨ 

¨But how will you know where I will be?¨

¨It doesn´t matter where you´ll be. I´ll always find you.¨

[yandere-sins]

In His Clutches

Following up with what I said in my last post, I’ll try to do some requests for now until my mental health recovers enough to continue the Fox Wedding, and first on my list is a request I received over ko-fi and which got way too delayed because of yantober and christmas time >_< Please enjoy some Overhaul for a change!

Rating: Mature Warning: Yandere, Blackmailing, Forced Submissiveness, Rough Handling, Mentioning of Blood, Threats, Insults, Mentioning of Violence, Also Chisaki how he was before his arc I have no idea how he behaves currently lol Words: 2120

With the way your head met the linoleum floor, you wondered if the fluid you felt on your skin were tears or perhaps a bloody nose. Even if you weren’t screaming out loud from the pain yet, the impact hurt like hell, and you had to take deep breaths to deal with the aftermath. No wonder you felt an instant wave of dizziness hit you, but being unable to focus your sight and not have nervosity and your shaken mind puke all over the floor were the least of your problems.

Latest when something long and textured lowered down onto the back of your head, did you even realize what you had been forced to do with your involuntary fall to the ground. Without being able to make out anyone before you right away, you were definitely propped into a bowing position, forehead touching the floor, and when you tried to fight off what was holding you down, you looked entirely like a person pleading for forgiveness. “Look what filth honors us today,” a snarky voice picked up, and you could hear small feet pace before you. “The audacity that you’d even show here!”

You were about to complain and set the voice straight that you were not here because you wanted to, but rather because you’d been pulled into a car in the middle of the day and feared for your life if you didn’t move as you were told. But your head was turned to the side suddenly and ungently, and though you shoot daggers at the people before you, once you got used to the light blinding you, you felt a cold shudder run down your spine as your view cleared.

Penetrating, golden irises looked down from above, a body posture as unfazed and unbothered as only someone who knew they had the upper hand could have. The black mask moved slowly as the man before you spoke, never fully revealing his face, and yet the sight in front of you brought a shiver down your spine. “Like gum under my soles,” he agreed to the first voice, and you finally realized what was pressing you down. Polished, seemingly new, white shoes stepped all over you, applying and taking the pressure as he pleased but never giving you the chance to escape from the floor you were pinned to.

The realization of your failed plans began to slowly but surely manifest throughout your body, a light shivering overcoming you as you lowered your eyes, squeezing them shut. A meager attempt of wishing this was just a bad dream, and perhaps you could wake up in your bed soon and atone for what you had done, leave the country even and never come back. 

It had been a gamble, really. A half-hearted attempt to break free from the monotonous life you were living and become someone exciting and filthy rich. Everything seemed too easy and safe when it was proposed to you; write the letter and send it off. Gloves, face masks, using the mailbox furthest from your home-- you had remembered EVERYTHING. And yet, you still got caught, so how-?

“How did we find out?” Kai Chisaki, leader of the yakuza clan known as the Shie Hassaikai and the recipient of your attempted blackmailing, spoke calmly and outwardly unfazed. From his hand hung the white letter you had used, the paper with the demand for money so the truth of their doings wouldn’t reach the wrong ears peeking out from it. Yet, when he lifted it up into your view, gloved fingers dug inside between the paper, pulling something out that you’d have never expected to leave behind. It was so small, probably only the rest of it after testing, barely noticeable. Still, you cringed, realizing that they had traced your DNA back to you by something so minor and silly as a hair. 

“I’m not a criminal,” you mumbled, noticing the distinctive, fearful shiver in your voice. 

“Obviously,” a small, black form, resembling a stuffed animal, huffed, and you were sure if he could have, he’d have rolled his eyes at you.

“They just told me what to do, and I- I just wanted to make some quick cash. You have to believe me! I don’t even know what they know! I only made the letter...”

The following silence was downright disturbing to you, a few seconds turning into the eternity one must feel before getting beheaded back in medieval times. A sigh eventually signaled the end of the nerve-tearing wait as countless ideas of what was going to happen to you now circled through your head. Finally, the foot lifted from your head and flapping the letter in his hand, Chisaki gave the underlings assembled in the room a signal. 

With groans and clicks of their tongues, bodies all around you began to move and disappear through doors that you couldn’t have made out with how perfectly they fitted into the white walls around you. You slowly lifted your torso off the ground again, looking after the last one of them disappear without even so much as a glance back over their shoulder, the doors closing automatically behind them. Suddenly, only the boss and you remained in this interrogation room, even though you were too afraid to dare and look at him. Instead, you focused your eyes on your hands, wondering why he’d want to be alone with you. If what you had always thought criminals did with people that defied them, then disposing of you didn’t seem like the work the boss would do. Truly, combining with the confusion you felt, the situation was only growing worse by the second.

“Working at a bank, inheriting the house of your parents, a pretty penny in your accounts. Sounds like a good life, and yet, you’d still resort to this.”

The envelope containing the letter landed right before you, sliding over the ground up to your knees. Biting your lip, you didn’t know what to say, especially when he almost sounded disappointed in you. His patronizing way of pointing out your faults didn’t make you feel any better or less scared, as Chisaki still didn’t appear to mean you well. Even the truth seemed like such a waste of air if spoken out loud, but what better was there to admit?

“... interesting.”

“Louder,” he demanded, his foot falling back down, this time on your hand, crushing it the longer you refused to speak up.

“I wanted to make it more interesting!” you gasped out loudly, clutching your hand close to your body the moment he let go. “I didn’t mean to harm you, Sir! You must believe me!”

This time you did look at him, with the most rueful eyes you could muster even, hoping to achieve anything, literally anything that would change the situation. “Hm,” he hummed in contemplation, and you gulped as you felt yourself run out of options. However, you didn’t expect him to sigh again before leaning forward, his eyes drilling into you as if he was trying to break you just with his stare. You had heard rumors. Rumors that he wasn’t quite sane and overtaken by his ambitions and germaphobia. Nonetheless, his eyes were clear, your reflection in them more fearful than you must have ever been in your whole life.

“You can beg better than that, I think,” he declared. 

In your panicked state of mind, you agreed with a short, firm nod, barely inching closer before noticing his eyes narrow reprimandingly, making you stop immediately. “P-Please don’t hurt me! I’d do anything! I was just the deliverer of the message! I know nothing, and if you let me go, I’ll never speak a word about what happened here--”

“Then tell me who made you write this letter.”

His instructions were clear, even though they made your blood freeze. “I don’t know…” you whispered, your body slowly shutting down as you realized it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. With a disapproving click of his tongue, a gloved hand reached forward, remaining at the corner of your eye for a split second. You ducked away from his touch, squeezing your eyes shut, but before you knew it, it was gone again, as if he decided against doing what he had wanted. Only now, you realized the tears collected in your eyes, not yet spilling but there as you had started to despair over the situation. However, there was no time to ponder about them as Chisaki spoke up again.

“Who,” he calmly said. “Tell me, and you are free to go.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You had followed the instructions given to you online via an online forum you used to chat with strangers. You never actually met anyone personally before becoming a complice. You had always believed it was so much safer, but you were dead wrong. Sniffling, you shook your head, averting your eyes as you saw your chances of survival and escaping dwindling. “I have no idea…” 

Not much sound escaped you anymore as you lowered your head, defeated, accepting your due punishment for your stupidity. There was nothing you could have proven or handed to him to make you look any better. “Pity,” Chisaki said eerily calm, taking a deep breath before standing up, and you agreed. It was your life thrown away for the aspect of quick money. Naive thinking that you’d actually profit from this when in reality, you had simply been the decoy, or perhaps a lab rat, for the real masterminds behind the plan of blackmailing him. 

He didn’t say anything else as he watched you for a few moments more, rounding the chair he had been sitting on and walking towards one of the doors hidden in the walls, the sound of it opening making you snap back to reality. “W-Wait!” you called after him weakly. “What’s going to happen now?”

At first, you thought he’d ignore you, but just before disappearing in the dark corridor beyond this room, Chisaki stopped, being the only one to glance back over his shoulder at you. It was scary how little you could read the man from his eyes alone, no feeling whatsoever shimmering in them. 

“Now? You’re going to stay in here until you remember, of course. That or one of my men needs a new punchbag.”

And with that, he was gone, the door closing behind his back and leaving you all alone in the maddening white interrogation room. However, the worst was the ringing of his last few words that kept creeping back in your mind, causing you to cup your ears with your hands, hoping it would silence those thoughts. Thoughts of you - or rather, your blood splattered all across this room if his threat was to come true. 

Unfortunately for you and your anxiety-induced paranoia, you didn’t hear the words spoken beyond your whereabouts in the secret underground of the organization. Not the praising, “You showed ’em boss!” of Mimic as he ran after Kai, having waited dutifully for his superior. “How do you want to proceed? Should we get rid of them right away?”

Kai’s answer was hesitant as he thought about it, unusual for him as he always had quick instructions to give to his underlings. “No,” he eventually said, sternly so. Hand lifting to his neck, he felt the beginning of a new rash prick at his skin, scratching it as he got lost in thought. “The letter’s pretty good; maybe we can use their skill. And we don’t know yet who sent them. They’ll stay.”

He heard the confused and exasperated huff of disbelieve behind him, but his words were final, even if Mimic disagreed. “If they become troublesome, I’ll clean them up myself. No one is to bother them.”

And with that, Kai could devote himself to his thoughts, thinking about all the ways he could purify you. Perhaps, things finally wouldn’t be so boring anymore as you always complained to him on the forum he met you. If anyone, Kai was sure he could make your life much more interesting by his side, once he got rid of your filthiness that unfortunately still caused rashes to erupt from him, even though being so close to you made him feel so alive. 

But first, he’d have to delete the profile he used to trick you right into his clutches, as he couldn’t risk anyone else finding out about your whereabouts once they’d notice your disappearance. After all, it would take a lot of time to reform you, but Kai knew you were worth the trouble.

It was dirty work, but with your potential, how could he refuse if it was you?

[whiskehorange]

RZ Michael scenario where y/n is a nurse at Smith's. There's a lockdown & she's trapped in Michael's cell. Pls make it nsfw & hella fluffy. TY

Hell YEAH BABY. I got carried away im so sorry-

Michael

Today, of all days, why did it have to be the day that you traded your later lunch for an early lunch.

You had always managed to get the last lunch schedule; which happened to be close to two o’clock. At this point, you’d absolutely give anything to have the twelve o’clock lunch just once.

And that’s what you did. And hour or do before the the call for the twelve o’clock lunch sounded, you had asked the front nurse if there was an opening for at least one person at that lunch, or at least anyone willing to take her spot just for today in trade for the last lunch.

Flipping through the nurse charts, she picked out one file that was near the bottom.

“Joyce was moved for today down in corridor three for today, and we’ve been looking for someone to take her place for patient checkup today. For Myers. That’ll give you first call lunch.”

She pushed her glasses back up and looked at, awaiting a response.

You moved your head back slowly, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. You’d take it.

She handed you the key and went back to the routine click-clack of her keyboard after handing you the key to Myers cell.

Myers was a famous name around the lunch room and just about everywhere in the sanitarium, really. Most nurses commented on his chilling yet oddly attractive height, while other combatted them with hoe dangerous he was. One recalling how she was there when he snapped a guard’s leg for getting in his face.

Hey, all you had to do was check up on him, take his tray, and do a routine mattress inspection, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

His inspection was in a few minutes, so it wouldn’t hurt to do it now so that you could head to the cafeteria early.

Jingling the door keys, you make it to Michael’s cell. Stepping inside, your stomach dropped, only for a moment, however.

That was normal for you. It’s that unexpected pit of fear that you’d get entering anyones cell, but it never lasted that long, knowing that you’d be out of there in a flash anyways and guards were at the end of each hallway.

“Hi Michael. I’m you’re nurse for today, Joyce was moved to another corridor just for today.”

You’re voice was cheery, something that a lot of your other regulars enjoyed and got you patients who respected and acted well. Michael, however, didn’t say anything.

You close the door behind you, setting the keys in your skirt pocket.

“This should only take a few minutes. Now if you could stand up for me and move to the side, that would be great, please?”

Michael, sat at his desk, didn’t move at first, but eventually stood up. He was much taller than you’d expected, he towered over your small form. He moved to the side as you walked over to his desk, taking the tray from breakfast.

You set it on the little shelf under his door window for you to take when you left. There wasn’t too much room to move, considering there was enough for a desk, the bed, him, and maybe a nurse. his walls were covered with what looked like paper-mâché masks. He himself had an orange one on. Either way, the masks took a little more space from the room to walk.

You smiled up at him, tilting your head slightly, “I like your mask. Orange is my favorite color.” Once again, there was no answer, but that was common with some patients.

Turning back around, you stand at the foot of his bed, “I’m now going to do a mattress check, then I’ll be out of your way.

Lifting up each corner and running your hands across the sides and tops of the mattress you found nothing, expect a small paintbrush tucked in between the wall and the bed. 

It wasn’t carved for a pointed end or anything like other patients would have, but it was mandatory that you should take it anyways. It could have been “hidden with the intent to harm someone or oneself.” But come on, it was a paintbrush, and Michael seems to actually use it for something else, he probably didn’t know it was there.

You felt eyes narrow in on you, the feeling was overwhelming. Almost scary.

You turned and held it out to Michael.

“I know I should take it, but I doubt you where going to use it. If you were you’d have it on you. Go on, this’ll be our little secret. I’d hate for you to not be able to make anymore masks.” You cheerfully offered

Michael’s hand slowly took the brush out of your hands and held it, remaining eye contact the entire time. 

“Thank you for being cooperative, Michael. Hopefully I can be your nurse again another-”

Your sentence was cut off by a loud ringing that echoed off of the empty halls. It was the lockdown alarm. Normally they tell the nurses when a routine drill is happening but you didn’t get one... which.. meant that there was... an actual emergency 

“Michael, if you could step back into the corner for me that would be amazing,” you said, but much more serious. The smile fading off of your face .

You slowly turned back to the door to open it before the automatic locks kicked in to not raise suspicion, but inside your heart was practically pounding at the door already.

You grabbed the door handle and pulled as hard as you could, expecting it to open for you. You were a nurse of course, you didn’t have to be locked in here.

The door didn’t budge.

It was locked. With you inside.

Stepping back, you bump into something firm. Gulping, you slowly turn to see Michael standing directly behind you.

You’d expect someone in this sort of place to think about how they’d kill you. Maybe he was going to use that brush and plunge it into your eye. But it was quite the contrary. 

Michael appreciated your kindness, you had a likable spunk to you that the rest of the nurses just didn’t have. Maybe because they were dealing with mentally insane people all day, but at least you were a nice light in this place. 

You looked to... innocent. For a place like this, at least. Micheal was still a man, after all. You looked very pleasing to his needs. 

“M...ichael?”

By the look in his eyes you could tell he was thinking of something. You didn’t know what, but it couldn’t be something good.

Michael took a small step forward, making you step back. The another, and another, until the top of your legs touched the edge of his desk.

He had never wanted or desired to do this to a nurse, or anyone since he had gotten here, but you looked so pleasing to him. Delicious isn’t the right word for someone as twisted as him, but he just knew that he wanted you and that he was going to have you. 

The guards would have all been down attending to another situation, so it was only you and Michael in the cell.

He reached down, moving a piece of your hair to the side of your worried face as another hand hiked up your skirt. The hand that had moved the hair was ready to quiet your screams, but instead you only blushed madly, looking to the side in embarrassment. 

Pulling your underwear off, he lifted you up onto the desk with ease to match his height. Tugging at the small belt on his pants, he shoved them off and out of the way.

Your mind raced as you thought of how wrong this was, hoe you should be screaming for help and fighting back, but instead you eagerly scooted to the edge of the table. Closer to him.

The gasp that escaped your lips as his length was pushed into you was a mix of pain and confusion. You had a small feeling he would be big, but not this big. You clenched your legs together in an attempt to get comfortable with him, but he pushed them back open. 

Your mouth was agape. Michael’s hand reach up and grabbed your face, pulling your face to his as another pulled you closer to him. Bringing you forward onto his entire length. The twitched of your eyelids and legs were enough for Michael to stay hard.

Leaning his forehead against yours, your face still in his hand, he began to thrust himself into you slowly, but picked up the pace the moment he could adjust to your small form.

Your body was limp for a moment, the only way to stay in this position was to wrap your arms around Michael neck, which you did. At this rate, there was no getting used to Michael’s length, but you couldn’t deny that this was better than anything you’ve ever had before.

The wailing of the alarm was loud enough to drown of your own moaning. With each hard thrust came an equally powerful moan. Michael gripped your hips with both hands as you set your back against the wall. There was nothing to hold onto but the desk itself that was leaving scratch marks on the painting brick.

Your legs quivered with need as his cock continued to ravage your insides for what seemed like hours. You had already came but there was no use in attempting to speak. It’s not like your overstimulated body would be capable of producing words.

One of Michael’s hands ripped open your blouse, gripping your breast as he pushed his head onto your neck. Your hand running through his hair as he did so.

He was close, very close. As tight as you were he wondered how he had lasted so long, but it wouldn’t be too much longer. The clapping of his skin against your sped up as he did everything to push himself over. 

You cried out his name as his final thrust buried himself deep inside you, spilling every last drop of his seed. His nails made cuts into your hips and ass while he firm grip left purple bruises.

As he pulled out you went limp against the wall, attempting to think about what to do next. The alarm had gone off about 30 seconds ago and the guards would be doing their rounds to make sure nobody else was causing trouble.

You stumbled off of the desk, pulling up your panties and up your skirt. Your legs were still shaking, you doubted you’d be able to walk in the heels you came in with.

Michael had already pulled up his pants and stood in front of the door so that nobody would see you as you bashfully buttoned up your blouse. Your hands were pretty shaky too, struggling to get the buttons in the correct slot. Michael bent down and buttoned the last three for you.

You head heavy footsteps approaching the end of the hallway as a guard could be heard lock checking each door. Panic spread throughout your body at you fixed your hair and wiped the tears off of your cheeks. Even attempting to control your shaking.

Michael brushed the hair out of your face once again and fixed himself, standing behind you as the guard looked through Michael’s cell window.

“What the- where you in here this whole time?”

You nodded. Michael’s hidden hand rested inside the top of your pants, making you blush madly once again.

“Did he touch you?”

You shook your head, “No, sir.”

[septicace-writes]

Loophole

Summary: Billy Lee is away on a trip and you’re needy. Mike helps out but you get caught. Billy Lee x reader, Mike (Hellraiser) x reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: sex, dub-con to be safe, slight degradation, voyeurism, cheating (kind of)

a/N: This has to be the most elaborate piece I’ve written so far. And it’s a rarepair but I hope people will still enjoy. And I’m just gonna tag @hope-to-hell because A) this obsession is your fault and b) I think you might enjoy this.

1.7k words

Billy Lee is a busy man. Sure, he's carved himself a life where he can do whatever he wants, more or less, but it comes at the cost of leading his people. And he doesn't call it a cult, they're more like a big family. And he's the head. Their chief. He's in charge and with that comes freedom; and responsibility. And time away from you.

But he wouldn't leave you all alone. No, not after you've tried to run more than once. Not after he's had to follow you across half the country to bring you back. So, he leaves you with his right-hand man. 

Mike is young, tall, dark, wild curls on his head and icy blue eyes. He's all harsh angles and scars and his smile will freeze your blood. He had come to them beaten and bloodied and half dead and unable to speak, but even then, he fought and thrashed like a wild animal, or a rabid dog. So that’s what they called him. Dog.

He got better, wounds healing over, finding his voice again, and immediately challenged anyone's authority. He, quite physically, fought back against the nickname and now only the chief still occasionally uses it. It's a surprise Billy Lee didn't kick him out as soon as he was healed enough. The chief doesn't take kindly to challengers. But they had their one big fight, teeth and claws and knives, rolling through the mud and wrestling and then - he let Mike stay. Let him rise through the ranks. Put him to use keeping people in line, his personal attack dog. Nobody would dare call it that out loud, but he has a soft spot for the boy. It’s the only explanation for how Mike hasn’t lost his head yet for shamelessly staring at you every chance he gets. Billy Lee let him have his choice in partners, but you were the exception. Even Mike in his ruthlessness understood not to mess with that boundary, but it happened anyways.

And it so easily could've ended in a disaster - for you and even more so for Mike. Billy Lee had been gone for almost a week, leaving things in Mike's care; including you. You were under strict instruction not to leave your room, to let Mike know if you needed anything. And not to touch yourself. And you had been good. So good. And so fucking horny. With no idea when the chief would return you cracked.

Mike, please

You know I can't

Says who? He said I can't touch myself but you're not me. And he did say for you to take care of me.

It's not like you're not worried about it. You only trust Mike on the account that Billy Lee trusts him. His hungry eyes made you uncomfortable more than once. But you need and maybe this'll be enough of a loophole for Billy Lee to let it slide.

He gets you off on his fingers the first time, methodical, learning your body and doing his best not to derive his own pleasure from it. Then, again, later the same day.

The next day, you beg him to eat you out. Your hands tangled in his hair, pushing and pulling, wanton moans escaping your lips when

Get off her

Your heart rate spikes as your hands drop to your sides. You hadn't even heard the door open. Mike is scrambling off the bed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and standing at attention. This may be the most distraught you've seen him, but he's hiding it well even now. Except maybe for the bump in his trousers.

What the fuck is this?

And his voice is quiet, calm. And it scares you more than if he had yelled the words.

I- You did have your excuse ready to go but seeing the blond man stand looming over the bed, suddenly the words get stuck in your throat.

Chief- but Billy Lee cuts him off with a look.

No, no. She gets to explain.

For a moment you consider blaming Mike, but you do want to try your best to not bar him from further exploring this. From just these three times he had potential.

Billy Lee is still staring at you, waiting for an answer. When you go to sit up and cover yourself, he gives a single shake of his head. You've played this game before. He will stay silent and not let you move until you explain.

You said not to touch myself. Your voice is only slightly shaking. And I haven't. But I needed. Sir, I needed. And so I asked Mike to take care of me. You always say for him to take care of my needs when you're gone.

Billy Lee turns to Mike, who is still standing in the same position, not betraying just how fucked he thinks he is.

And what is the second half of that request, dog?

Tend to her needs but leave her wants and whims to you He recites almost automatically, the order drilled into him.

And do you think, Mike Billy Lee almost spits the name that my little dove wanting to come is a need or a want?

Need. You pipe up against your better judgement, unwilling to let Mike take the fall for your escapade.

I didn’t ask you, did I?

Want, chief Mike sounds a little sheepish, but he holds his head high and stands his ground.

So you agree that this is outside of your duties, dog? A nod from Mike.

And what are we gonna do about that

There are a few beats of tense silence

Well- You know there has to be punishment. Billy Lee starts pacing and you feel your whole body shake in anticipation.

For you he turns towards you, still unmoving on the bed. For you it’s easy. He runs a hand up the inside your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps. You get one more today and then you are not going to come for at least a week. His fingers deftly avoid your slick center and travel back down the other leg. And you will be on your best behaviour or I will dig out the cage again. All you can do is nod.

As for you, dog, you’re lucky I understand it’s difficult to resist a begging pretty little thing. And I do recognise that I may have left her unattended for too long. You’ll get a chance to prove yourself so listen closely. I want you to fuck her. Like she so desperately wants. Make her shake and cry and come. If you do a good job, maybe I’ll add this to your duties when I’m gone. And to prove that you understand the boundaries, you are not going to get off here, tonight. Are we understood?

And Mike- Mike who has been standing there stoically all this time, hiding just how scared he is that he’ll get kicked out. That Billy Lee was going to beat him to a pulp and leave him on a roadside somewhere. He wouldn’t say it, but he did like the family. And he even enjoyed having found his match in the chief. Knowing there was a person he had no power over. Though he’s not ready to admit that to himself. And anyways, none of this changes that he is elated at the chance he has been presented.

Billy Lee situates himself in his armchair, facing the bed. He lazily starts palming himself and gives an impatient nod to Mike when he still hasn’t moved. Better make it good. And that’s all it takes.

He gets back between your legs, picking up where he left off before the interruption, and from the first lick you are gone. Your hands automatically find their way back to his dark curls. He groans into your pussy and the vibrations make you moan.

I believe I said to fuck her. Billy Lee would sound almost unaffected to anyone else, but you know him better than that. You know he’s getting off on this just as much as you. And it makes you brave.

Please you whimper, pulling Mike’s hair. You lift his head and pull him in for a kiss, your own taste on his lips driving you on even further. His hands frantically shove off his trousers, letting himself get lost in the frenzy and – for a moment – forget that he ought to be careful. He gives himself a few quick strokes before prodding at your entrance. Your hands flying to his back and clawing into the muscle as he slowly breaches your hole.

Fuck. Please. I need-

But he keeps the first thrust slow, letting you adjust once he bottoms out. From the side you hear a deep, familiar groan. You look over and see Billy Lee, his cock out, stroking himself to the sight of you. And just that moment Mike starts moving in you, forcing your attention back to him. A devilish grin on his face he lowers his head to take one of your nipples between his lips. It’s a lick and a suck at first but then he simultaneously bites down and gives a harsh thrust into you, coaxing a yelp from your lips.

Your legs wrap around his hips, instinctively trying to keep him as deep in you as possible, while your nails scratch angry red lines into his back. Mike picks up his pace, seemingly getting faster with every sound he draws from you. He growls when you try to sneak a hand between your bodies. Pinning your arms above your head, he brings his own fingers to your clit and rubs. It takes a second for him to find a good rhythm, but then he can feel you clenching. There’s a coil rapidly tightening in your core and you buck your hips to meet his thrusts. The tension snaps and with a scream, your orgasm washes over you. Mike fucks you through the aftershocks, and as your head clears you sense just how much he is holding himself back, keeping to his orders. Your eyes shoot to the armchair, where Billy Lee is still stroking himself. His eyes blown black with lust.

With a hiss Mike pulls out, unfinished. He gives you a tight smile and looks over to the chief as well. The blonde gives him a nod Go get yourself sorted. We’ll talk tomorrow.

Mike hastily puts his trousers back on and rushes out as Billy Lee gets up and turns his attention to you again, cock still in hand.

My turn.

Part 2

[neo-culture-mafia]

NCT Dream Reaction First Kiss

Hey guys! It's admin j back with another reaction. Most are fluff and a some have a twist. News on Cleanse Week will be coming soon so be sure to look out for that. Some are longer than others for sake of the back story and...well...I might've gotten carried away haha.

Remember I love you guys and remember to smile. If no one has told you yet today, I love you and I'm proud of you.

가자~~

[Not proofread - sorry]

[posted : 5.22.20]

Mark

Mark's first kiss with you would be a total accident. It had turned from the trainee mentor relationship into something more very quickly yet beautifully. It was still in the puppy stages of the relationship where you both were finding eachother's vibes.

You both would be in the hand-to-hand combat training room just running over some drills, one on one. "Right hook. Left sweep. Chin kick." His voice barked as you pushed your body to its limits. His hands were in mitts that protected himself against your assaults effortlessly.

"Finish off. Spin kick." He said and you turned around connecting your heel with the gear. "Good work." He cheered shaking the gloves off and handing you your water.

You took it and sat down on the ground where you previously had practiced. "My body hurts." You whined rolling around for a minute as he joined you on the floor. "You did great though." He took a sip from his own water.

Talking for a few minutes then you stood up. "Your turn now." You smiled and grabbed his gloves. His hearty laugh had you raise your eyebrows at his reaction. "Not a chance, baby." He got up and pinched your cheek. "Why do you say that?" You said putting your protected hands on your hips. "I just don't wanna hurt you is all." He shrugged and your mouth dropped.

"Am I not strong enough?!" You said with a shocked laugh. He shook his head no, walking over. "I didn't say that, cutie." His finger came up to boop your nose quickly.

"Then let's go." You kept nagging and he only looked at you for a moment. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He chuckled as you put your hands up strongly.

He got ready and took his beginning stance. "Right kick." You said and the force you were met with made you want to grab and cradle your own hand, yet, you carried on with the calls. "Left knee. Right knee. Roundhouse." You thought of all the kicks you knew in your own head.

Mark was getting lost in the calls and forgot about who he was training with for a moment. "Knee wrap-" his leg hooked around your knee and it had you shooting towards the ground.

After he felt your body falling he reached his hands out and grabbed your flailing arms quickly, picking you up mid-fall.

He had yanked you up and the next thing you knew...lips to lips. You both stood there for a moment in the kiss, not moving until you both had fully registered what was happening.

Both of your faces were blushed and rosey from the magical feeling kiss; both standing face to face still, turning away to try and hide the clear embarrassment. "Uh. I have to uh. I have to go write up some reports." You said as you picked up your bag with a smile.

"Of course." He nodded. "Thanks for the extra training session." Your smile only had his heart thumping faster.

"Always. You know where to find me." Both of you were so awkward as you said goodbye. Yet once you left him alone he was going crazy with excitement.

Renjun

It turns out that your guys' kiss was after the first argument. The kiss was cliché within itself but it was magical.

You both were in his apartment just talking as a thunderstorm raged on outside. The night took a dark turn when you both stated what you were looking for in a long relationship. You looked at Renjun and saw what you were looking for exactly. Renjun thought you could do better than him and his insecurity shone through that night.

"Someone amazingly smart." You smiled yet his smile dropped. "Oh?" "Mmmhmm. And wickedly handsome." The small giggle your body carried irked Renjun.

"Someone who has a tough exterior but is actually a softie." You were basically describing him trait for trait but the description wasn't lining up in his own head.

"So who are you looking for?" You asked as you situated yourself on the couch so you were facing him more. Just to spite innocent you, he started to list everything you thought you were, making yourself question your own worth and being.

"Loud and bright." Your smile only faltered a little at the hard to swallow statement. He didn't see like you that? "Someone who understands when to not talk about stuff. They stay quiet." Your gaze fell to your lap.

"Someone insanely beautiful." His playfully sounding yet vindictive words got your mood down and all you wanted to do was leave. "I think I should get going." Was all you said as you grabbed your bag and slipped on your shoes. He didn't stop and could only watch as you walked out of the door.

"Hey Jeno. Bye Jeno." You said as you opened the door and were met with the bulkier boy. Then you were gone.

Jeno rushed into the room and looked at Renjun with an upset face. "You idiot." Jeno stressed as he started beating Renjun with pillows. "She was talking about you, you doorknob." He said pointing to where you were once sitting.

"Huh?" Renjun was dumbfounded. "We bugged the room idiot. She was talking about you and you act that way towards her?!" Jeno asked and your words flashed through his mind again. The truth of the intrusion went directly over his head in the moment.

"Oh my God." He said starting to get up but freaking out. "What do I do?!" Renjun asked as his hands went through his hair, gripping at his brown locks. He started to pace the room in agitation.

"Go get her back!" Jeno dragged Renjun to the door and Renjun wasted no time as he pushed his shoes on and ran out the door and down the hall to the stairwell. He flew down the flights of stairs and into the apartment building's lobby. You were no where to be seen.

He felt guilty as he ran out the door into the pouring rain and saw you walking down the side walk in a hurry to get to shelter.

"Y/n!" He yelled but you couldn't hear him over the sharp drops of water. He groaned as he raced after you, passing some nightly joggers in the process.

He automatically flung his arms around your body and held onto you. "I don't deserve you. You were talking about me and I didn't realise. I am so sorry for trying to hurt your feelings, y/n. I'm still new to this whole relationship thing and still need to learn some things that you already know." you cut him off by turning around to face him.

"You're insanely pretty and super bright and bubbly at times. You're too friendly at times and so kind to random strangers. You're so respectful and I could never think of anyone better of a person than you. I'm so sorry that I was me-" you automatically connected your lips to his as you realized he wasn't going to shut up anytime soon if nothing stopped him.

He relaxed into the kiss and held your face perfectly in his hands. A moment of silence was between you both as you eased out of the kiss to look at one another. Raindrops fell down from your eyelashes and Renjun thought he was holding onto an angel.

"Oh my God you're perfect." His words were mumbled as he could only kiss you again in the rain.

Jeno

He knew that he was the boyfriend that you got to piss off your parents. You two had met at your work at the library when he was picking up se alchemy books.

He had really fallen for you though. He was absolutely enamored with you and your personality. You were his personal drug. You both were polar opposites yet found the most random things in common.

He would always try to set up the 4th date but something would always come up. He really believed you liked him and you knew for sure that he likes you but you both just had to wait for now. But waiting had been 3 and a half weeks since you guys have at least saw eachother in person. The boys were asking where you went to at this point for they had grown a liking to you too.

The second date was at his place where his friends dressed up in tuxes and served a fancy dinner. Yet...no kiss as he dropped you off that night. Just you scurrying away from his car with a bright smile on both of your faces.

"Did you guys smooch?" Jaemin asked as the door to the apartment opened to a smiley Jeno. "Nope." He cheered as he threw his keys in the bowl. The boys groaned as some popcorn was thrown at the ecstatic boy.

"I'm not just gonna rush her to kiss me. If she wants to then we can-" "wow you really have softened up." Hyuck gasped as his eyes became squinty at his friend. "Bad boys really do fall for good girls." Jisung gagged at the circumstances. "Yeah yeah yeah. Just don't want to scare her off is more like it." Jeno sighed slipping off his boots. "You just gotta go up and smooch. How hard is it? Have I taught you nothing?!" Jaemin asked as he punched his friend's shoulder. "Chill. It'll happen eventually." Jeno laughed as he twirled into his bedroom.

~~

You had been out with your parents for a cute little lunch on a sunny Sunday afternoon. "You need to start going after boys who can take care of you." You mom sighed as she finished up her meal. "And not this imaginary gang member you're dating. Fantasy land is not reality."

Whatever you said always went in as stories to your parents' ears. It was getting insulting at this point. "Well I even offered to bring him to lunch today-" "and you probably would've picked up a hooligan off the street." You dad pointed his finger at you.

You huffed and fell into your seat. "I have a love interest. You just don't want to believe he's real." You sighed and they groaned. "Because the things you say don't make sense. What gang member goes to a library? For science books? Do you hear yourself, sweetie?" You mom grabbed your shoulder as she tried to be comforting.

"Can we just go home now? I don't want to shop anymore?" You pouted and you automatically got up to leave. Your parents followed and you all went to the front desk to pay.

Jeno had spotted you before you spotted him. He and the rest of the Junior Forces came to the outside mall to shop and chill for the day. That's when they sat by the fountain and just joked around for a little bit. There, he saw you standing with your two parents. You didn't look the happiest as you rocked back and forth on your feet.

Jeno whistled loudly and quickly drawing the attention of the boys but most importantly you. You turned your head and were met with the boys who were all staring at you along the smiley face paired with the usual done up head of hair that you loved oh so much. "Y/n!" Some of the boys waved which got the attention of your parents. "Who are they?" You mom asked quietly. "Make-believe." You sassed.

Your head turned towards your parent's confused faces and you knew what you were going to do. Jeno was expecting you to cheerfully skip over but you marched over with a purpose. Some of the boys were actually confused on why you looked so distraught. "Y/n! Get back here." Your father called loudly from the desk.

You approached and grabbed Jeno by the collar, pulling him up. "Don't ask why, just kiss me." It didn't take long for him to grab your waist and pull you up closer towards his face where he passionately kissed you. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders. His free hand traveled to the back of your neck to lead you. The kiss was filled with such passion and fierce feelings that if he wasn't holding you against him, you would've surely fallen to the ground as you legs turned to jelly.

"Oh my God she actually did it." Jaemin said with a shocked face while the boys cheered. "Finally!" Renjun raised his arms over his head. Yet, the rest of the boys noticed the approaching parents before you both did. The cheers died down. "Angry parents. 12 o'clock." Hyuck slapped Jeno's legs quickly.

Your parent's presence along with your dad clearing his throat, "y/n.", made you break away first. You stood on your own two feet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand with a smirk.

"Mom. Dad. Meet Jeno. Not so imaginary now, is he?" You said with such an attitude towards your dad. You turned back to Jeno with a sweet smile. "Call you later." You winked. "Bye, boys." You sweetly smiled, "Bye. Y/n." Jisung was the only one who shly waved back. You walked past an awestruck Jeno with your angry parents in tow.

Once you all were out of hearing distance, the cheers from the boys made Jeno return to reality very quickly. "Oh. My." He whispered, hands coming up to feel his lips gently. "Ugh. Growing up so fast." Hyuck coo'd as he dabbed his eyes from his fake tears.

Hyuck (longer)

You were an outside business women that had this poor boy following at your every step. You were a bad ass leader that ran her own fashion firm.

He was deployed to pose as your assistant because Taeyong was suspicious on how fast you came up and got known.

You both instantly clicked and Hyuck found out that you had no affiliated work with any type of syndicate or group of any sort. You just worked hard for what you wanted and you surely got it. Yet, once his main job was done, he still kept his position as you assistant. Tae didn't mind as long as he was where he needed to he when he needed to be.

As you two got closer he learned who you really were. You were a strong ass lady who never let anyone take your title or money from you. He fell in love with your strength and bad bitch personality.

"Coffee for the queen." He set your coffee on your big desk. He sat on the laquered wood next to you in your big office chair. His put one leg on top of the other and sipped his own coffee as you sketched in your designing pad. "Thank you, Hyuckie." You said as you concentrated. "Any thing on the schedule today?" You asked and he pulled up your agenda on his phone.

"Nothing but a meeting at 5." He bounced his leg. "Chelsea boots...again?" You asked as you caught sight of his foot wear.

He chuckled and took a good look at them. "What? Don't hate on the outfit of the day." He said and you finally looked at him up and down since he clocked in this morning. His distressed Nirvana tee was paired with jeans and the Chelsea boots. It was overall a nice outfit.

You said no more words, "clear my schedule. we're going shopping." And just like that you 2 were headed to the mall to shop the day away.

You linked your arm with his as you both walked into the bright shopping center. Both of you were super comfortable with each other and you would never be caught dead telling him that you had fallen for him.

He was so friendly but you were so sure that was just his nature and he didn't feel the same way.

"Oooooo. I'm getting you new shoes." You said as you tugged him into a random designer store that caught your eye. You pushed him down onto the velvet bench where he quickly regained his balance.

"What size shoe do you wear?" I asked and he only stared for a moment. "You don't need to. I have shoes already-" "But I want to." You smiled and was waiting for his answer. He wasn't used to people getting him stuff like this so he felt very out of place, but when he looked at you be felt safe. "270." And with that you were off down the aisles of shoes.

"Ew. They carry my brand." He heard your voice and he couldn't help but laughing lightly. You came back with your arms full of shoes. "Woah." He got up to try and help but you just dropped them on the ground.

"Start trying on, please. Get what you want. Don't be modest. I got some spending money. I'll be looking at watched and jewlery at the other side of the store." You handed him one of your credit cards. No information except your name was on the thick piece of black plastic that he now hesitantly held in his hand.

You were now bouncing off to the other side of the store with a smile on your face.

He began trying them on and he was blown away with the quality of each shoe. They were all amazing but he knew he couldn't get all. He narrowed it down to 3 shoes and headed to the cashier who was dressed very fancy like.

He set the shoes on the pristine white marble counter and waited to be serviced. The man just looked skeptical as he rung Donghyuck up. "How will you be paying?" The man's stares made Hyuck uneasy and feeling judged. He slid your card across the counter and returned to his position of his hands behind his back.

The man looked at the card and at the uneasy boy then back down to the card and had a throaty laugh. "You're playing a prank, aren't you?" He asked and now Hyuck just wanted to leave. "Your type shouldn't even be in here." The worker scoffed

"No. He belongs here as much as I do." You popped up beside Hyuck who automatically felt a rush of confidence that he usually had, but ever since he had entered this high-profile area- he lost. "And especially because I know for a fact that he makes more than all workers here...a week." Your voice was tough as the worker stood in shock with your card in his hands.

"Oh my God. You're...you're y/f/n." His smiles were now being dumbed down once he realized you were not happy in the slightest. "Now...I'm Pissed. That's who I am." You said pushing the shoes closer and setting some pieces of jewelry and a couple pairs of sun glasses down on the counter. He rang up all of the items with care and quickness. Hyuck stood there in shock that this was happening. Your hand came up to play with some of his hair that lost its place. "I apologise again sincerely. It's just that type-" "Can you please tell what TYPE you're talking about?" You asked as you grabbed the heavy bags from the counter and keeping them in your hands. All the workers now gathered around with their heads lowered.

"Well. Lower clas-" "I'm going to stop you there." Hyuck knew exactly where this was going. You had been lower class yourself before making it big and you never forgot where you came from. There has been times that your friends stopped talking to you because they walked into your office to see you sporting department store sweatpants and a distressed tee along with your all-time favorite pair of skating shoes. You get it. And you never treat anyone differently no matter how they look or what they sport in the daytime. What you did judge people on though, is how they interact others...and boy did you hate mean and rude people.

"-and I can promise that your ass won't work in any luxury store in the whole Asian continent after this week. That isn't a threat. It's a promise. Good day to you, sir." You said taking Hyuck's hand and dragging him out of the store.

You both walked down the tiled floor and you breathed out. "Almost lost my cool there." You said and Hyuck could only laugh. You had put him in a better mood.

"Are you okay though?" You asked and he nodded. "Never been better." He smiled and you touched his cheek lightly. "Now let's go for some shirts and pants." You said motioning to the next store that caught your eye.

"Hello Miss. y/n. Welcome back." A woman greeted and you greeted back equally as nice. "Oh thank you. How are you this week? Did your daughter perform well in her recital?" The bags were taken from yours and his hands automatically by workers while you started to look through racks.

"Do you like button ups?" You asked him and Hyuck could only shrug. "I like t-shirts." You laughed at his cute response but held a shirt up to his torso. "This would be handsome." You said and put it over your arm and continued looking.

"Go. Look around. Pick up whatever catches your interest." You winked and he took you up on your offer. He looked around and picked up some shirts that he would wear daily to have some elegant sense.

"Ready to try on?" A worker asked you and you nodded grabbing Hyuck and you were both guided to a big room with what felt like a million mirrors.

The door closed and it was just you two. There was a small circular rising in the middle of the room where you could model clothes once they were on.

"Alright. Shirt off. This shirt's been making so curious on how it would look on you." Hyuck froze. His gun's metal has never felt more cold on his hip. "Uh. Can't I try them on myself?" He laughed nervously. You looked at him and looked around. "Uh. You okay?" You laughed lightly and he shrugged after a moment.

Then a lightbulb went off in your mind. You took your hand bag off and opened the lid and put the opening towards him. "What?" He asked looking at you.

You sighed at his cluelessness and motioned a gun shape. His blood ran cold and a shiver went down his spine. He slowly lifted his shirt up to expose the dark metal laying on his waist.

He grabbed it and put it in your bag. You cheerily put it down and tugged at his shirt. "How did you know?" He was still in a frozen state and wanted to know answers now.

You pushed him back to the stage and he obediently stepped on. You started lifting his shirt but his hand grabbed your wrist. "How do you know?" He asked sternly and your eyes rolled. "I'm a girl that knows what she needs to." You said and continued to help him redress.

The scars on his torso intrigued you but need to be brought up at a later time. "How?" He asked once again as you buttoned his buttons. You spaced out for a moment before regaining all your thoughts.

"My father ran a smaller syndicate and my brother acted the same way as you before you started his own. I separated myself from that life and went to design school to run from that life." You rambled but he took in every word. "All of a sudden you become my assistant and I see your behavior, gun bulge on your waist, and tattoos. Next thing I know, my brother talks to me for the first time in 10 years to see what I've become." His mind was doing loops as he tried to put the missing puzzle piece in place.

"I'm guessing Taeyong doesn't talk about me much, huh?" You said and Hyuck thought he was gonna faint and puke at the same time. "You...you...sister?" He asked slowly. You sighed as you nodded your head. "It's old family affairs, I suppose. Saw I was head of my own company yet a big softie and retracted all offers he first gave me." Your hands ran down his torso to smoothen the fabric out.

"Oh my God." Was all he could say in the void of silence. Your laugh pulled him down to earth.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna judge you because I know what it's like. Training. Not have a clear thought for yourself. Following directions all day long. And you're a good guy. I don't judge from what you are. But how I feel about you. And I like you." You shook your head and everything seemed so much more clear.

He wasn't thinking clear when his lips found themselves on yours. He was more shocked you didn't pull away. Yet , he was so happy that you didn't pull away from him.

The kiss broke with the both of you regaining your breaths. "I promise we can talk about this...us...later." you smiled. Hyuck hadn't noticed how his arms wrapped around your body until you broke away and stepped off the platform. "But I want to get these clothes and go get a burger and a milkshake. I'm starving." You smiled and turned away.

Yet, the mirror couldn't hide your rosey cheeks and big smile that made his heart thump behind his scarred chest.

Jaemin

You and him were polar opposites in personalities. His rough and jagged moods were always slowed down and capped by your soft nature. On the outside, both of you held the similar style, yet once each of you opened your mouthes, people would turn their head in confusion.

Both of you were close since you became a trainee in the Junior Forces. He had grown an unusual liking to you that had the other boys confused as to what he saw in you.

He saw something he could protect and stuck to it.

"Let's go get some coffee." He whined as he dragged you out of your bed by your ankles. You hit the ground with an 'oof' and were still dazed and confused by what happened.

"Y/n let's go." He pulled at your arms. "But I'm tired." "That's why we're going to get coffee." He said and threw a hoodie and jeans onto you.

"5 minutes then I'm going without you." He said walking out of your room. He would wait patiently for up to 20 minutes is what '5 minutes' meant.

You groggily got up and got changed into the oversized hoodie and jeans. You pulled random shoes on and walked out to Jaemin eating ice cream from your freezer. "Are you ready yet?" He asked and you nodded as you grabbed your phone and wallet.

He pushed you out of the door and all the way until you both hit the street. The sun was out and it was a beautiful day to just stroll around for a little bit.

"So what's new with you? How was the mission?" You asked as his hand slipped around your shoulders. "Tiring. Wanted to leave as soon as I got there." He smiled a little. "So...the usual." You giggled as you both turned the corner onto the main street.

"Now, you. What's been going through that brain of yours?" He asked, ready to hear you become talkative about what you've been up to. "I was watching this new show and the main characters are so cute-" "yeah?" "and they just won't fall in love already. They're perfect for one another but they just won't see it and it's so frustrating-" you talked to whole way to the cafe but he loved every word that fell from your lips.

"The usual?" He asked and you nodded but continuing where you left off. You shushed when he ordered but he became more engaged as you both waited.

"That's basically it." You suddenly said and he smiled. "Well the show sounds amazing." He complimented your explanation. "It really is. Ooo and there's this new movie we should see together. It's about zombies." You said playing with the straw container. "Really?" He mindlessly added on. "Mm-hmm. It's coming out next week." He thanked the worker as the two drinks were served.

He handed the cold coffee to you and put a straw in. You both were off on the streets again.

"What do you want to do?" You asked and he shrugged. "Park?" You suggested. He gave a small nod and you both began the new journey. "Mmm. Taste this." He held his dark black iced americano up to your lips but you just looked at him hesitantly. "No. It tastes icky." You shook your head but he continued to hold it up to you.

You sighed and decided one sip wouldn't be terrible. You took some of the liquid into your mouth. The bitterness made you reel back from the sour and bitter liquid.

His laugh shook through his body as your eyes sparked with pure caffeine. "It's awful." You said taking sips of your own drink. "Awfully good." He continued.

You both made it to the park and sat on a bench that looked out to the river. The cool breeze wrapped you both together. His arm found its way around your shoulders and your head ended up resting on his shoulder.

"I like you." His sudden confession had you frozen. No warning or anything. Not even a leading up statement. "What?" You said as you sat up a little to face him. "You like me?" You restated the confession and he could only nod.

"I like you too. I just never thought that you felt the same way. I was so scared that it was one sided and you would never talk to me again-" he rolled his eyes at your never-ending rambling.

He grabbed your face and shut you up by kissing you. The bitterness of his coffee was present in the kiss but it tasted more...sweet this time. It was intoxicating.

You both broke away from the kiss but your foreheads rested against one another. "You talk to much." He whispered with a smile.

"If that's what you're going to do to shut me up. I'll talk more often."

Chenle

The first kiss would be magical yet an unplanned way to distract you.

Both you and Chenle were deployed on an extraction mission. Jisung and Jeno messed up during their own mission and had been held captive for the past week. Jeno his his mic and wire and that was the only way you guys knew they were still alive.

Mark and Taeyong deployed both of you as soon as a plan was made by Chenle. Him being the escape artist on the team made him an amazing fit for the job. You were more for a backup and decoy.

You both entered the foreign feeling base and automatically got to work. "Guards just left." Jeno mic'ed from wherever he was in the building.

"Headed directly to you." Chenle whispered into the almost invisible wire. Your range of vision was wide as you looked out for any other people.

You bumped into Chenle as he stopped outside of a door. "This one." He said and you looked for any witnesses as he began to pick the locks.

The door was opened in no time and he pulled you into the dimly lit room. A bloody jeno and jisung sat in chairs. Yet, the happiness in their eyes made up for their bruises and scrapes. "Get us out of here. Now." Jisung begged moving around in his seat.

"There's a device on his chair. We think it's explosive." Jeno said lowly. Chenle checked his best friend's chair as his smile fell. "Pressure activated. Once you get up, it'll detonate." He said and you could see everything flash through his mind. "We just need to find something to transfer the pressure so we can leave." Everyone's eyes looked around the bare room until Jeno was the first one to lay his eyes on you.

One by one they all gained the same realization. "Oh. No." You shook your head. "No no no." You shook your head and you saw the bruised boys become more ancy. "Please, y/n." Jisung pleaded as tears came into his eyes.

"I'm the only one that knows the right way out. I promise we'll be right back to get you." Chenle said coming over and grabbing your shoulders strongly. "I swear." He said and all of a sudden you became ancy and distraught.

"The guards came back and they're not here? And I am? I'll be dead." You said becoming more erratic. Chenle slipped his own gun into your hands. "That would never happen. The exit is directly down the hall. As soon as we're out, I'll be 10 minutes tops." He said trying to stop your tears that were forming.

"Y/n. Please." Jeno called softly.

Your heart rate picked up and you felt a panic attack coming on very quickly. You grabbed your face to stop the heat rushing to your face. You started babbling and rambling, becoming more louder as your ears clogged naturally.

"Y/n you have to be quiet." Chenle tried shushing you as the two boys were still trapped in their seats. Chenle was looking for something to shush you but was left high and dry.

"They're going to come if she gets any louder." Jisung rocked back and forth in his seat. "Stop doing that." Chenle said holding his hand out to his friend who was about to breakdown himself.

The boys understood why you were getting so worked up. They were asking you to be a sitting duck for a while, not even being allowed to move out of the position for fear of death by explosion.

Your levels of loudness were consistently rising in the small concrete room. "I really thought this would happen another way." Chenle sighed but threw his lips on yours. It was dead silent as Jeno and Jisung sat stunned at the methods Chenle used.

When he backed off you were still silent. Silent tears were what you were diminished to. "10 minutes. I promise." He hugged you tightly and he felt your nods of approval against his shoulder. "Don't let me die here." You whispered and he could only hold you tighter if that was possible.

"We have to go." Chenle said and went back to finally untie Jeno and Jisung. Jeno got up smoothly but Jisung sat frozen. "Y/n. Start scooting onto the seat as he starts scooting off. The weight transfer will hold constant that way." Jeno said and Jisung began to slowly scoot off of the wooden chair. You slowly took his position and the next everyone knew, you were trapped in the seat.

Chenle put one of his guns in your lap and kissed you one last time. "I'll be back soon. I promise." He said. You watched as they walked out of the room, never looking back.

The door was left wide open and you sat there in plain sight. The only thing you heard was the shakiness in your breath. "Almost to the car." Was all you heard over your earpiece after what felt like forever.

You couldn't respond out of fear of being heard by someone fom the other side.

The silence became deafening. "Are you coming back?' you asked into the mic but it was met by silence. The tears began to fall faster as the same erratic heartbeat took place in your chest again.

Footsteps were heard coming back down the hall at a rapid yet quiet pace.

"lele?"

(omg I could never imagine real chenle doing this but I had to do it for the angst)

Jisung

Both of you lived out the puppy love stage for all of the relationship.

"Please just leave." Jisung groaned as he followed Jeno and Jaemin around the apartment. "Why? We've met her before. It's not like we'll be scaring her off." Jaemin said as he took a bite of his sandwich. "I know but I get out when your partners come over. Why can't you do the same for me?" Jisung asked as he sat down grumpily at the counter. "Because we're not ready to be uncles yet." Jeno reasoned and the two older boys laughed.

"You two are so gross." Jisung whined. "And we're not even..." The two boys stared intently at Jisung. "None of your business. Why can't you just leave for like a couple hours." Jisung spun around in the chair.

"Here. We'll make you a deal." Jaemin said as he threw his sandwich onto his plate. He took a moment of thinking and came up with a good negotiation. "You wash both of our cars. Inside and out." Jaemin said and Jisung was on the edge of his seat. "We'll leave for a couple hours and let you guys do...whatever you guys do." Jaemin finished with an eye roll. "Deal." Jisung said and automatically began to gather his hyungs stuff.

"New movies are showing. They look really cool. You should also get some dinner." Jisung said shoving each of their wallets in their hands. "Now leave." He said looking at both of them seriously.

The older boys groaned but obeyed the wishes of their younger brother. "If Mark calls and says he hears ONE moan-" "Yeah yeah yeah. Ew." Jisung said as he swatted them out of the door. "Oh, hi, y/n!" Jeno greeted cheerfully as he opened the front door. Jaemin gave a sincere smile. "Jisung is kicking us out for the night to have fun with you. Please do not do the diddly-do on any shared furni-" "YAH! LEAVE!" Jisung yelled once he saw your face fall and all color drain.

The two boys left with laughs as Jisung pulled you into the apartment.

"Please ignore them." He laughed and you waved him off. "It's fine. Really." You laughed.

~~

The whole date was cuddling on the couch and just being with each other which was actually really cute.

Jisung went to lay on the floor and you followed suit to bug him. You lifted his legs and began to balance on them. "Airplane." You laughed as his own laughs made it hard for him to hold you up.

Next thing you know, you fell directly into your guys' first kiss. What went from a laughing moment turned into a serious one.

His arms wrapped around you comfortably.

The presence of a shocked Jeno and Jaemin went unnoticed.

"I mean at least they're not on the couch." Jaemin said causing his friend to laugh and the two of you to push off eachother in a blushy and heated mess.

"You could've knocked." Jisung said as you began to get up and straighten yourself out. "For our own apartment?" Jeno asked as Jae was in the kitchen once again.

"I should be going." You smiled sweetly and bowed to Jeno and smiled at Jisung who waved quickly from where he sat on the ground.

You put on your shoes and left quickly.

Jae came back with a sandwich in hand to join the silent tension. "First kiss?" He asked with a mouth full of bread.

Jisung shyly nodded and the two olders looked at eachother.

"Figures." Jeno said walking off.

(ugh he'd be such a comfy boyfriend. prove me wrong)

[ttttaehyungie]

regular | jjk x reader

regular | film major!jungkook x convenience store worker!y/n oneshot

☘ genre | romance, fluff

☘ word count | 6.8k+

☘ rating | sfw

☘ summary | It’s been just a couple of weeks into your night shifts at the convenience store and you’ve caught yourself looking forward to the patronage of the two regulars who come by to purchase ramyeon and the sight of a certain bunny-toothed grin. Little do you know, you’ve caught the eye of the very pair of doe eyes you so adore.

The bell jingles and, conditioned after the number of shifts you’ve worked, you turn to call out a greeting with a smile. You're met with a familiar wrinkled smile and cheerful greeting. It’s the elderly lady who stays on the third floor of the apartment complex- you know this fact despite not knowing her name because she’d told you as much when she made small talk with you on your first day of work here.

Not knowing her name isn’t a barrier that prevents you from enjoying the familiarity of her presence though. Even though your back is turned as you return to restocking the drinks in the fridge- movements hurried in an attempt to get away from the nipping of the chilled air on your fingers as soon as possible- she’s unfazed and chatters away in her usual bubbly manner.

Placing the last bottle of soju in the fridge and satisfied with the neat rows of green bottles, you shut the door and huff softly in relief, blowing hot air onto clenched fists in a bid to introduce some warmth back into your fingers. As you carry the now empty crates back to the storeroom, you pass her by and find her peering at the shelves of jam. You pause next to her.

“Strawberry?” you supply meekly, and she sighs exaggeratedly.

“You’re right. I always spend so long looking at all the different flavors, but still go back to buying the same thing.” Her eyes shine in humor as she places a jar in her basket.

You laugh lightly in response and the conversation tapers off as you carry on to the storeroom to keep the crates.

When you re-emerge from the storeroom, you see that she’s waiting at the counter, ready for payment. Not wanting to keep her waiting, you jog a little back to the counter, but she assures you in her gentle manner that there’s no need to rush. You respond with a timid smile and ring her up swiftly.

Bowing as you thank her for her patronage and calling out goodbyes, your smile is a genuine one. It’s been three weeks since you’d started working at your uncle’s convenience store, and she’s been one of the friendlier customers that you’ve met in that time. Having worked a fair number of shifts now, you’ve become a lot more accustomed to the workflow by now. But your first week saw a couple of blunders as you nervously struggled to get the ropes. Some customers had been more patient than others, and she was by far one of the most patient, laughing with you at your slip-ups in a way that always loosened the anxious tightness in your chest.

To get this job was such a stroke of luck, though. Coming out to Seoul for university had been a long-time dream of yours. But funding the tuition as well as dorm lodging fees was an issue for your family’s humble finances. Thankfully, you had your uncle. He’d ventured out years back and now owned a convenience store in the city, and he was more than willing to take you in as a part-time staff. And so here you are, settling well into the routine of the nightly shifts at the convenience store while waiting for the semester to begin in eager anticipation.

The sound of playful bantering somewhere in the distance snapped you back to reality. Just from the boisterous laughter, you knew who your next customers would be. The doorbell tinkled, signifying their arrival, and you automatically called out a greeting,  finding your guess confirmed to be true. The two… Brothers? Friends? Classmates?... entered the store and the older one flashed a bright smile as he waved and called out a hello. Meanwhile, the other boy had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, but offered a small but friendly smile at you.

Aside from the elderly lady, the lively duo was a close competitor for the spot of favorite regulars in your mental list. You assumed they lived in the same apartment complex the store was located in- they’ve come by enough times and at odd enough hours for you to be secure in that assumption. Sometimes they came alone to pick up drinks or snacks.

But your favorite was when they came together, their dynamic that bordered on chaotic brought a vivacity to your otherwise monotonous shifts. You’ve witnessed them, more than once now, dancing clownishly in the aisles. You wonder if they know that their silliness could be seen through the security camera feed.

In their usual fashion- full of mischievous shoves as they argue animatedly over absolute nonsense- they made a beeline to the ramyeon section of the store. Picking out their purchases always took them under a minute. They never really deviated from their usual selection.

From the way their voices carry over the shelves, you can hear them approaching the counter. You watch in quiet amusement as the older one dumps his things into the other’s arms and prod him forward again, this time towards the counter, and says, “Well, your Jin-hyung is treating you to supper as usual, so you can do your part and go pay up at the cashier.”

“You know that one doesn’t logically follow the other, right?”

“Wow, this brat! I’ve basically raised you and this is how you treat me?” the one named Jin dramatically scoffs, chin jutting up and eyebrows raised in challenge.

The younger one rolls his eyes but brings the items to the cashier, to you.

As spirited as he was while play-fighting, his demeanor takes a 180-degree turn as he addresses you.

“Hey,” he greets softly. It makes you feel fragile.

You smile and nod, keeping your eyes on the bowls of ramyeon as you grab them to scan. Knowing the drill by now, you place two pairs of chopsticks atop the stacked bowls, no plastic carrier required, and you push them back towards him, eyes still glued to the paper bowls.

But eventually you have to make eye contact as you receive the cash from him or risk being taken as impolite. Your glance up to meet his eyes.

His round, gleaming, doe eyes, gaze directed straight at you.

A thick pounding warmth crawls up to your ears- this is why you had to put off looking at him. Willing your hands to remain steady, you return him his change, and do your customary bow and thank him with a smile. He returns it with a bunny-toothed grin that scrunches up his eyes into twin crescent moons under his full brows. Your stomach could very well compete in a gymnastics meet at this point. He’s absolutely stunning, you think, even under the harsh fluorescent lighting that does no favors for anyone.

The bell jingles again as they exit, dimly registered through the fog still clouding your head. You feel your heartbeat finally begin to slow back to normal. You know it’s so silly and superficial to be this affected by someone you’ve only ever said ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ to. Heck, you don’t even know his name for crying out loud. And you’d only just learned Jin’s name two minutes ago. But with their almost daily routine of popping by the store for supper runs, you find that their voices have become something of a staple in your shifts and their ebullience made the late hours at the store just a little more bearable and almost enjoyable even. You’re sure that this practice of theirs was established long before you began working here. But you can’t help but feel included in it despite being nothing more than a bystander to their antics.

So even if you don’t know his name, you still feel like you know him somewhat.

Even if you might be nothing more than an extra in his life, nothing more than a regular convenience store clerk.

Two days later you see them again. It’d seemed like a quiet night so you’d decided to get started on the mopping earlier in your shift. The doorbell rang and you looked up to find Jin with his hand on the door while his companion was play-boxing his back.

“Hello, welcome!” you called from where you were.

“Oh, there you are. Hi!” He smiled amicably when he finally located you.

You looked at wet floor of the aisle they usually patronized.

“Um, the floor over here’s wet, but- but I can help you get the ramyeon. If you want.”

“Ooh, I guess someone’s picked up on our unhealthy suppering habits,” Jin notes, eyes full of mirth. “But no worries, we’re here to pick up drinks today.”

He turns to his companion who had given up on pestering him and had taken to shadow boxing the air instead. 

“JK! Can you get the basket?”

You’d returned to your mopping, but you feel your ears perk up at the nickname. Keeping your eyes to the ground but seeing it in your peripheral vision, you watched as the chocolate-haired boy ceased goofing around and nodded. Happiness bubbled up within you. Even if you didn’t know his full name, at least you’d gotten a step closer, and it feels like you now know him somewhat better, even if it wasn’t through an interaction between the two of you.

You could hear them moving about just one aisle down from you, glass bottles clinking against each other as they get placed in the basket.

“Hyung, hurry up! I think I see them!”

“Ok, we just need to find the Sprite. You know how Hoseok is. Or here,” Jin says, handing JK the basket. “I’ll go unlock the place for them first.”

Jin runs to exit the store, and you can hear him hollering and waving to catch his friends’ attention.

You hurry to finish up the aisle you were mopping, aware that JK was probably rushing to get back to the apartment. Hitting the midpoint of the aisle, you peep towards the counter and find him already standing there, perusing the selection of candies at the till.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know you were done,” you said, hastening to the counter.

JK looks at you and smiles in reassurance.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to ru-”

Just as you were rounding the corner to get behind the counter, your traitorous feet stumbled over themselves and sent you flailing.

A strong grip wrapped itself around your upper arm. Your descent halted. Turning around, you meet JK’s eyes, rounder than ever in concern. You flushed red. At least this time it could be pinned on your embarrassment at having tripped over yourself.

“You alright?” he voiced softly.

His hand hadn’t moved, and it felt warm and sturdy as he held you. Stealing a glance at it, you could see the veins snaking up his forearm as the muscles flexed under his grip. Although it was only for a second, JK noted the shift in your vision and loosened the hold on your arm.

“Sorry I-” he began.

“No! It’s fine, I mean I should be the one who’s sorry,” you blabbered, cutting him off before he could continue apologizing.

“You really didn’t have to rush over, I would have been fine waiting, y’know,” he said, looking at you earnestly. “Your ankles ok? Nothing sprained, I hope.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine, see?” you said, rolling your ankles in demonstration.

“Ok, that’s good.”

A couple of beats pass as you both look at each other, both waiting for the other to say something. Awkwardness began to bubble up as the lull in conversation became too prolonged.

“Let me ring you up!” you said quickly, finally getting behind the counter. “So you can get back to your friends.”

“Right, right,” JK mutters. The awkwardness had yet to pass and you avert your eyes from him, keeping them trained on the bottles of soju and single can of Sprite you scan. You read the total amount out for him but you can’t find it in yourself to meet his eyes even as he passes you the cash.

Bowing and keeping your head down, you mumble out a thanks and goodbye and keep your gaze down till you hear the bell ring and you know it’s safe. You begin to exhale in relief but it turns itself into a groan.

Well the one saving grace of the night is that you have a name now.

JK, you think to yourself giddily.

He can hear his friends’ laughter even from three doors down the hallway. As he enters the house, a whiff of the sweet scent of chili hits him. The crunch of crispy batter could be heard as well and Jungkook realizes what’s going on.

“Hyung! You started without me!” Jungkook protests. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t specify who exactly he was addressing because all were equally guilty. They looked up at him from where they were clustered on the floor around the tiny coffee table and the box of fried chicken that sat atop it, looking sheepish. That is, save for Jin, who had the audacity to look scandalized at Jungkook’s accusatory tone.

“And we were supposed to just wait for you while you flirt with the convenience store girl?” Jin challenges teasingly.

“No, you were supposed to wait while I bought the drinks for you.”

“Ooh, no denial of the flirting, I see,” Namjoon pipes up between chews, the coating on the chicken now coating his fingers in a sticky mess.

“Our shy ‘lil Jungkookie flirting? Now that’s a scene I’d love to see play out,” Hoseok jokes lightly.

“Watch it, hyung, or I’ll keep your can of Sprite for myself,” Jungkook counters playfully, pulling said can of Sprite out of the bag and placing it on the table alongside the bottles of soju. Yoongi gets up wordlessly and heads to the kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Jungkook and Jin let him go by himself. The guys had been to the house enough times to know where things were kept.

“Ok, enough of this,” Jimin speaks up over Hoseok’s sputtering. “Here, Jungkookie, you can sit between me and Tae. I saved this plate for you.”

Jungkook gives it up and squeezes himself into the spot reserved for him and sinks his teeth into the still-warm food. Cosy and surrounded by his old friends, he lets himself get pulled into the ongoing conversation as everyone catches each other up on the latest happenings in their lives. The topic’s moved on from their teasing him and he’s a little relieved.

Soon, the box that once held the glorious fried chicken was filled back up with the bones of said chicken, meat stripped and devoured. Around him, his friends’ faces were reddened and warmed by alcohol, reminding him of a sight that had his own face flushing a little deeper even without the help of alcohol.

The conversation was fading into a lazy quietness, until Taehyung’s deep voice pierced through it abruptly.

“Jimin-ah! You promised you were going to show us pictures of your new girlfriend!”

Stirring from his reclined position, Jimin fumbles to reach for his phone where he’d thrown it behind him on the couch he was leaning back on.

“I was supposed to show you when Jungkook got back but I forgot about it in the midst of all our usual chaos,” he said, thumbing his phone to get to her instagram account. When he finally got to it, he brandished his phone proudly. “Ok, here! Presenting to you, my gorgeous girlfriend.”

Tae’s arm shot out across Jungkook’s vision, snatching the phone out of Jimin’s hand so he could get a closer look. Jungkook leaned over to take a look too.

“Ooh, hyung, she’s really pretty,” he murmurs.

“Hey! She’s mine, alright?” Jimin jests, elbowing him in the side.

“Oh, don’t worry, she’s pretty but I don’t think she’s Kookie’s type,” Jin teases, passing the phone along now that he’d had his chance to take a look.

“Oho? So our Jungkookie has a type?” Hoseok jumps in.

“Yeah. Demure, shy, very girl next door vibes,” Jin supplies, tapping his chin in feigned thought. “Just like the girl at the convenience store.”

“So you WERE flirting at the convenience store!” Taehyung hoots.

“What?! No!” Jungkook stammers, his mind filling with unbidden thoughts of how delicate you’d felt earlier when he’d grabbed you, the adorable way you thought to demonstrate that you were fine by showing your ankles’ range of motion, the little crease in your brow when you were concentrating on mopping the floor, the ‘thank you’s that he knew were customary but that your smile made feel so genuine.

“Mmhm,” Jin replies sarcastically, smirking with an eyebrow raised. “Why don’t you just ask her out already? I’m so sick of seeing you two making heart eyes at one another and blushing like fools but just continuing to dance around each other all the time.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook retorts. “What about you? Haven’t you been pining after that girl from HR who did your welcome tour on your first day at work? When are you gonna make a move?”

“Ah, hyung, your ears are all red,” Yoongi drawls, but his eyes shine with mischief. Yoongi’s observation is true, Jin’s ears have turned a brilliant shade of red.

“Hmph, that’s just because you’re all looking at me. You know I don’t like it when attention is on me.” Jin crosses his arms and pouts.

“But your ears were red even before everyone turned to look at you,” Yoongi pointed out.

“So who’s this girl from HR?” Namjoon prods.

“No one!”

“Oh? Don’t think she would be glad to hear she’s just a no one.”

Jungkook slouches a little lower, subtly slinking away from the spotlight, gleeful that his evasion tactic worked. The bickering around him carries on, but Jin’s words continue to ring in his mind. It would definitely be nice to take you out on a date somewhere.

But he couldn’t even overcome his shyness to ask you for your name in the countless times he’d patronized the store. Today had been the longest conversation he’d had with you and it was only because you’d tripped. He holds back a giddy smile. Even your clumsiness was endearing to him.

He shook the thoughts from his head. There’s no reason to think you had any interest in him, you saw at least a hundred customers a day. He was probably just another regular customer to you, nothing more.

The bell jingles. You look up from the book you were reading from where you sat behind the counter. JK’s entered the store, but Jin’s not with him this time. Keeping the surprise out of your voice, you call out your greeting. Normally, their noisy jibes could be heard before they entered the store, giving you some heads-up, but without Jin accompanying him, there was no auditory warning this time around.

JK smiles and waves in return.

Please don’t be buying ramyeon tonight, you find yourself begging. But he heads to the usual ramyeon aisle.

You glance at the cup of ramyeon you’ve stashed away behind the counter, and your hands coat themselves in a light sweat. It’d seemed like a good idea at the time but with the nerves hitting you now, the entire thing seemed so silly.

“Agh,” you hear his soft groan of disappointment. It’s barely loud enough to carry over the rows of shelves and the light music playing in the background. But you heard it.

And it’s enough to steel your resolve.

“Hey! Um... JK..?” you call, tone laced in hesitation. You can hear the sharp inhale he takes, you can just imagine him wondering how on earth you know his nickname. Using his nickname when you’re not even really friends, is that uncomfortable for him? You cringe.

Before you can get carried away with your thoughts, he pops out from behind the shelves to look at you, head cocked in an endearing manner that has you falling ever harder and ever faster. “Hm?”

Your ability to form words seems to have left you and your bravery is quickly following suit. So you grab the cup from behind the counter and raise it before your courage betrays you.

“I saved the last cup for you if you want it.”

He stares at you in surprise, and you find yourself rambling.

“There was a mixup on the suppliers’ end this week and I mean you’re a regular and this is your standard and-”

A nervous chuckle escapes him and he scratches the back of his head as he heads over to the counter. 

“Thank you for thinking of me,” he says simply.

The grin that lights up his face- eyes scrunched up in nothing less than elation- scrunches your heart in a similar fashion. How are his cheeks not sore from smiling so hard? You’re automatically mirroring his grin as the joy practically radiates off of him.

He ducks his head, hair falling into his face and hiding the sight of him. You’ve run out of words to say and the giddy excitement from the short exchange has yet to wear off. You take the chance to calm down a little as you ring up his purchase quietly.

As he hands you the cash he’s already prepared- familiar with the price after purchasing it a million times- he mumbles, “uh Jungkook.”

Your eyes dart up to meet his in surprise. He clears his throat and repeats in a slightly steadier voice.

“Jungkook. My name is Jungkook.”

“Jungkook?” you repeat, testing his name out. He smiles- a small shy one much unlike the previous, but one that you adore nonetheless- and nods.

“Well… see you around then Jungkook.”

He hums, pleased, and makes to leave the store. It’s only when his hand is on the door that you remember.

“____! I forgot to tell you my name, I’m ____.”

There’s a momentary surprise on his face, but a grin quickly follows, and he waves in goodbye.

Back in the apartment, he swears cup ramyeon has never tasted better. Jungkook doesn’t care how many times he has to swat Jin’s hand away, he refuses to share a single bite.

The very next night, Jungkook pops by alone again. You’re humming to yourself while wiping down some of the chilled drinks refrigerators and don’t hear the bell.

“Hi ____,” he murmurs from slightly behind you and you jolt.

“Hi Jungkook,” you squeak. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

You cringe, imagining how he’s heard you just singing to yourself, but what you don’t know is that he finds it absolutely adorable and he’s almost regretful to have to interrupt you.

He smiles that shy smile of his and shakes his head, waving it off.

“Do you only work nights?” he asks, making casual small talk as he reaches into the refrigerator next to you. You quietly relish in the fact that he’s speaking to you more now. It seems yesterday’s ramyeon incident has broken the ice that both your shyness had erected between you.

“Mm, mostly. There’s someone else that takes the day shifts, and I’ll be working nights once uni begins for me.”

“Oh! What are you studying and where at?”

“I’m going into accounting at SNU.”

“SNU?” he asks, pausing to stare at you in wonder, eyebrows raised. “You must be really amazing to be able to get into SNU.”

You wave your hands frantically in denial.

“No, no. I’m the most regular person there is.”

His brow furrows as he continues, “No way, you can’t possibly mean that.”

“I am, though,” you said, cocking your head to the side, genuinely confused at his emphatic disagreement in his tone. “I spent most of my time studying for entrance exams and chose to go into the one of the most monotonous courses there is just because it promises job security.”

“Huh. You really think that about yourself.”

He says it almost in acceptance and you blink at him in surprise. He looks like he’s deep in thought and a thousand miles away.

Abruptly, he shakes his head, as if shaking off his thoughts, and smiles at you.

“I’m a college student too,” he restarts the conversation. “Just finished my first year of film school.”

“Film?” you echo, eyes wide. “That’s really cool.”

“Yeah, I was a major nerd about video editing, so I decided to just pursue it as a full-time study. Anyway,” he says, waving his drink in hand, “shall we go pay?”

The conversation remains light and easy as you both return to the counter and to ring up his purchases. You’re pulling a plastic carrier out when he tells you he doesn’t need one and pushes one of the two banana milks he’s just bought to you.

“One’s for you, by the way,” he smiles. “As thanks for last night.”

He pokes the straw into one and offers it to you. You accept it, mumbling out a thanks, and take a sip of it, the fruity sweetness and creaminess of the cold beverage coating your tastebuds delightfully.

Jungkook pauses, seeming to have something else he wants to say.

“Do you-” he begins, but cuts himself off biting his lip. He takes a deep breath, eyes fixed on where his hand rests on the counter, fingers tense. Eyes meeting yours steadily as he exhaled, he tries again. “Do you want to, maybe, do something together some time, maybe? Together, I mean, like the two of us, maybe?”

Never did you expect that this was what he was thinking. You didn’t think he’d even taken notice of you at all up till last night. Stunned, you gape at him.

“I mean if you don’t want to, that’s cool, I get it, I mea-” he retracts.

“No! I mean, YES! I mean!” The words come tumbling out of your mouth. You sigh and try to get a grip on your racing thoughts. “I’ve got a free day this Saturday, does that work?”

You get the pleasure of watching his large eyes widen even more, then slowly crinkle up as that charming bunny grin of his grows.

You swap numbers to make locating each other easier on Saturday. But you end up texting almost non-stop throughout the rest of the week leading up to Saturday- something Jin teases Jungkook about relentlessly. According to Jungkook, Jin’s been ragging him for suddenly becoming such an avid texter when he has to endure being left on read all the time.

It turns out that Jin and Jungkook are childhood friends, having grown up in the same neighborhood when they were kids. An unlikely friendship had formed between the two despite their age gap, and when Jin heard that Jungkook was coming out to Seoul for university, he’d happily offered him the spare room in his apartment. Jin had already been working in the city for a couple of years by then but living apart from his family was understandably lonesome. Having Jungkook move in brought a small bit of the warmth of home into his apartment, which Jin gladly welcomed.

Sharing about your backgrounds was just one of the many topics you’d engaged in over the week. Your conversations jumped from music to food to books to movies. Somehow you both had organized an Avengers movie marathon as your next date before you’d even gotten around to your first date.

Your first date, which had you now standing outside the train station, waiting for Jungkook to arrive. He’d suggested spending the day at Nami Island and getting away from the fast-paced bustle of the city life for a bit. A quick search of the scenery in Nami Island had you agreeing easily.

You’re just about to dial his number when you spot him jogging out of the train station, looking around for you. Dressed in a light wash denim jacket and white tee, you both coincidentally match, with you dressed in a white blouse and light wash denim skirt. You look very much like a couple with your coordinated outfits, and the realization has your heartbeat quickening a little, remembering that this is indeed a date. You’re really on a date with Jungkook.

Finally spotting you, he grins and runs over to you.

“Hey,” he breathes.

“Hey,” you echo, in a similarly bashful tone.

He slings his bag around and pulls out a video camera.

“I brought my camera along today, I hope you don’t mind?”

“No, of course not,” you smile. It only makes sense- if the scenery in Nami Island was even half as beautiful as what you saw online, it’s more than worth capturing on film. Of course, you were also excited to witness Jungkook at work. His passion for film was clearly evident in your conversations throughout the week.

From the train station, it was a short trip to the ferry wharf and a quick wait for the ferry that would take you to the island. Wanting to enjoy the view and the experience of the ferry ride, you’d both opted to stand by the railings lining the ferry, the sticky heat of the summer curtailed by the ocean breeze.

You turned to speak to Jungkook when you found the video camera lens trained on you. Quickly reduced to a blushing, stuttering mess, you shooed the camera with a hand while the other shielded your face. He lowers the camera.

“Oh, I thought you didn’t mind?”

“I didn’t know you wanted to film me,” you explain. “I thought it was the scenery.”

“Well, yes, that too, but of course I want to film you.”

“But I’m so… ordinary. There’s nothing really worth capturing.”

He fixes you with a look.

“I really don’t get how you think that,” he states matter-of-factly. He wipes the camera lens off with his shirt, missing the astonishment on your face at his statement. When he’s satisfied with the lens, he looks up and grins. “But you’re not opposed to me filming you right? It was just a surprise?”

You nod blankly and his grin widens. He raises the camera once again.

“Ok, then rolling in 3-2-1!”

Although you’d assented to it, you’re frozen now that the camera is actually on you. The self-consciousness leads you to cover your face with both hands this time, ducking your head as you mumble, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Say hello!” The jubilation is obvious in his voice and he chuckles.

Slowly lowering your hands, you offer a diffident smile to the camera and murmur out a hi. He wonders how your shyness can be so charming. His heart swells with an affection for you that he finds to be ever-growing.

The rest of your first date follows much in the same fashion- Jungkook capturing scenic shots of the towering trees that lined the well-beaten paths and dainty flora scattered all throughout the island as you admired him at work. Unbeknownst to you, he captures candids of you soaking in the tranquility of the park that brought repose from the busy city you’d both escaped for the day.

He really had to give it to himself for thinking to bring Jin’s polaroid camera along. There’s few things as charming as you playing around with the camera, crouching to take close-ups of the flowers or stumbling back from leaning too far backwards trying to get the angle just right. Contentment warms his insides as he realizes he’ll get to savor this again and again through the moments captured on film. Occasionally, you’d catch him taking these candids and your demure disposition would leave you overwhelmed with shyness and sputtering, and he’d switch the camera off, but not before ensuring the endearing clips were safely stowed away in the memory card.

Agreeing to a second date- and a movie marathon no less- may have been presumptuous at the time, but the pleasantness of your first date left you with an anticipation that was unspoken but mutual.

The second turned into the third and subsequently the fourth, the fifth, and into a regularity that blended the number into ambiguity.

Something else that fades into inconspicuousness over time is the video camera as you become habituated to its presence. It’s always parked on the side of the table as you eat together, capturing your profiles and little jokes, laughter, playful nudges. In the beginning, you’d needed to willfully ignore the little red light that indicates it’s recording, but at present it hardly even catches your attention anymore. It’s not uncommon to exit the train station, looking for Jungkook, only to see him smiling as he looks at you through the camera as you run over with a matching grin.

But one thing that never diminishes is your affection for each other- the fondness you feel for each other only ever increasing with each day, week, month that passes.

“____,” his gentle voice calls, rousing you from your slumber. You hum in response as you blink the sleepiness away. Apparently you’d dozed off in the middle of your movie night, the combination of the dim fairy lights of your dorm room and the familiar comfort of being snug in his arms, head on his chest, enough to lull you to sleep not even midway through the film. Said film was now over, the ending credits rolling across your laptop screen.

Sensing that you’d awakened, he pulls you closer to press a tender kiss to your temple. You nestle further into his embrace and close your eyes again.

But before you can fully settle into his warmth again, you’re being jostled as he attempts to maneuver out from under you. You groan at this, making your displeasure known.

He’s out of the bed now and bends to peck your cheek sweetly, thumb stroking your cheek as his hand cups your face.

“I’ll be right back,” he assures. “I’m just getting something.”

Your pout is duly ignored, and he rummages through the bag that’d been dumped unceremoniously on your desk upon his arrival. Retrieving a USB stick, he turns back to face you with a nervous smile. Before you can ask him about it, he’s clambering back under the covers with you and sticking the little device into your laptop, and repositioning it atop your lap again.

He burrows his nose into your hair, hiding in it for comfort, and his breath against your scalp tickles with his murmur, “Made something for you.”

One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you against him, his other deftly navigates your laptop to boot up a video file.

As delicate piano melodies so complementary to your fairy lights and pastel pink sheets fill the soundscape of your room, you feel Jungkook’s two arms tighten around you, his breathing shallowing out with anxious energy.

The music’s volume dips a little and your voice floats just above the music and whispers out from the speakers, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Say hello!”

“...Hi.”

You identify the dialogue immediately. The scene that unfolds on screen over your voices likewise begins familiarly, but cuts to unfamiliar snippets of the candids that Jungkook had filmed that all those months ago in Nami Island.

The Nami Island segment ends with a clip of you spotting the camera and your resultant look of bewilderment. The scene immediately follows with more candids of you- chewing on the end of your pencil as you work out tutorial questions in the library, searching for Jungkook in crowded train station, perusing titles at the bookstore- each clip ending with the same look of bewilderment each time you spot the camera. These were the early days in your relationship when you were still highly camera-conscious.

But as the scenes progress, you watch your own progress in getting used to the camera, loosening up even when you notice the little red light.

The video is a documentation of your relationship over the past almost-year from Jungkook’s perspective, you realize. There’s the day you attended his taekwondo match and you recognize the pride and wonder that you’d felt bubbling up in you at his victory, clearly reflected in your eyes as you bound over to him.

Even the nasty moments were included. You watch your past self trying to tell Jungkook something and the tell-tale signs of your building frustration that he fails to notice then as he fiddles with settings on the camera.

“Did you hear anything I said?!”

“Sorry, can you repeat?”

The anger emanates off of you even as you remain silent.

“Come on,” he pleads.

Your eyes flick to the camera and back up, and you grumble, “Turn the camera off.”

The scene cuts and you recognize the next to be Jungkook’s room. His phone takes center-frame, screen displaying his call log that shows the seven calls to you that didn’t go through. He taps it for the eighth time, the hollow ringing tone only contributing to the forlorn atmosphere. His whimpered plea has you tearing up in the present.

“Please pick up.”

But the next clip has you exiting the train station, spotting Jungkook. Pouting without saying anything, you walk over with your hands in your coat pockets until- the camera shakes as he absorbs the impact of you walking into him, hands still in your pockets as you bury your face in his neck and mumble, “I’m sorry.”

Although the screen is just a couple of dark blobs of color from your coat rubbing up against the lens, you don’t need the visual reference to recall this scene of reconciliation. You remember the relief that washed through you as his free hand comes up to hold you to him- you’re forgiven.

“I’m sorry too.”

In the present, you brush your tears away quickly. But the roller-coaster ride of emotions is clearly not over. The scene transitions to a breathtaking shot of pink-tipped clouds, and a couple of clips of your moving silhouette against the sunset sky. Seeing yourself- glowing in the golden hour as you watch the sunset and he watches you, a tiny smile of bliss and contentment on your face- you finally begin to catch an inkling of why Jungkook used to get so upset at you calling yourself regular. Caught in his camera frame, you finally see yourself through his eyes. You see how he loves you.

The camera pans back to the sunset, and the significance of this particular view is definitely not lost on you. This was the view that accompanied you as Jungkook asked- in gentle whispers befitting the soft hues that surrounded the two of you- whether you wanted to go steady with him. This was the sky that you sat under as you both shared your first kiss, unhurried and gentle just as he’s always been with you. The memory of it all, uncaptured on film but stored away in your mind to be savored for a long time, has your heartbeat picking up even now.

The video concludes with a series of clips of you manning the cash register, back to where it all began for the two of you. Jumping back in chronology to a time when you were still unused to the lens being pointed on you, you hear yourself complaining about how boring the content of the film must be. Oh how wrong you were. Viewed in the right perspective, the regular old run-of-the-mill convenience store becomes of place that’s endlessly interesting. You watch as you get used to the camera, initially just smiling and giving a little wave albeit with a tinge of shyness still, and eventually almost ignoring it entirely, only giving it a brief wave before your attention is fixed on the man behind the lens.

What really gets you- what has your nose stinging and chest tight with overwhelming emotions- is watching how you look at Jungkook. Bashful glances turn into adoring gazes turn into content familiarity, and you see what you’ve been thinking for a long time now- you love Jungkook. You’re practically glowing, and you wonder whether Jungkook sees it too.

The music trails off to a graceful end, and the screen fades to black.

“____?”

Your focus had been so enraptured by the video, you’d pretty much forgotten that Jungkook was right here with you. His voice, gentle but betraying nervous hesitation, tugs you back to him. The tears that had welled up in your eyes but had remained unshed from your unblinking gaze on the final scene finally spilled over. You hide your face in his chest, turning quickly to keep him from seeing. But he doesn’t want that. He wants to see your emotions, he wants to know what you think of everything even if you can’t verbalize it into words.

Gently, he raises your chin so your eyes meet his, ignoring the damp sensation your tears have left on his shirt. And he sees it. You love it. You love him.

Tears of his own trickle down his cheek. You thumb it away as you giggle.

“This is only part one of the series, right?” you hint.

The bunny grin, now familiar and well-loved, lights his face up and colors his handsome features in joy.

“I’m looking forward to all the memories we’ll make together.”

You hear the promise in his words.

[hermannsthumb]

Wrote it a year ago!! How efficient lol Did you already do 79?

Anonymous said: Have you done 79 about the ex gift finally being done?

79. we broke up almost three years ago but you message me out of the blue saying that my gift is finally done and you… you built me a house? [or choose your own gift!]

from winter writing prompts here

almost new year’s! i imagine this takes place somewhere in the pre-2025 PR timeline, not using pen pal canon, for extra awkwardness

------------

“You what?” Hermann says.

On the other end of the holographic computer display, Newton laughs sheepishly and ducks his head. The picture is a bit rubbish—Shatterdome tech is outdated across every base, it would appear—but even the graininess and ghostly blue tint to Newton’s skin can’t conceal his blush. “I said I finished your present,” he repeats. “The one I promised you—shit. Two years ago? Three?”

“Three,” Hermann says, automatically. It’s not because he remembers any sort of gift ever being promised, but because three years ago is the last possible time he could ever imagine Newton gifting him something. They were still on good terms, three years ago; they were beyond good terms three years ago. He and Newton still—well. Er. “Though I don’t recall you ever mentioning a gift.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have, dummy,” Newton says. “That would’ve ruined the surprise.” He fixes his glasses. “My tracking number says it was delivered today. Did you get it?”

A stack of mail was indeed dropped off at Hermann’s laboratory today, shortly after lunch, though Hermann has not yet had the time to poke through it. He squints across his desk at it now: there is a larger box at the bottom of the stack, larger than anything he had been expecting, which can only be Newton’s present. Hermann slides it towards himself with the handle of his cane. Newt Geiszler, in the corner, with the return address of his laboratory in his Shatterdome. “Can you open it on camera?” Newton says. “I want to make sure it—well, you’ll see.”

Hermann tears open the tape seal with the nib of a dried-up pen, and pulls out an absurd amount of tissue paper before finding…a sweater. “Ah,” Hermann says. He unfolds it. It’s nothing too terrible, like Hermann had (frankly) been expecting a sweater from Newton to be. A nice shade of brown, a nice thick wool, a bit simple and shapeless, but comfortable-looking nonetheless. He can’t imagine how Newton took three years to give it to him. “…Thank you, Newton?” Hermann says. “How…thoughtful.”

“You don’t remember, do you?” Newton says with a grin.

Hermann shakes his head.

“It was ages ago,” Newton says. “We went out to that taco place for dinner, and I knocked your wine all over your sweater by accident, and you got super pissed, and I was like, dude, it’s just a sweater, I’ll buy you a new one, and then you—”

“Oh, God, I remember,” Hermann groans. It’d been towards the end of their, er, relationship, and every little thing about Newton had started to set Hermann off: Newton’s humming in the lab, Newton’s jokes, Newton’s clothing, Newton’s smile, even (a thought which made Hermann feel horrendously wretched), Newton’s insistence on Hermann getting a proper sleep, Newton’s coffee runs and lunch runs and fixing Hermann breakfast every morning… The wine spill had been one of the final straws, and one to which he—admittedly—far overreacted. Hermann could simply not see a way in which it wasn’t intentional, in which Newton did not do it deliberately and maliciously, and the row they’d had over their bloody burrito bowls and Hermann’s merlot pool had been one of their finest. I’ll buy you a new one, Newton had said, and Hermann had shouted back about that not being the point—how Newton could knit one and it still wouldn’t be the point—and called a cab to take him home. Separately from Newton.

Newton was knocking on the door to his bunk an hour later, eyes fixed on his shoes as he mumbled out another apology, and he’d looked so pitiful, and Hermann felt so guilty over leaving him with the bill that he had sighed out one of his own. They didn’t touch in bed that night, not even an accidental bumping of shoulders. In the morning Newton did not fetch Hermann coffee. They ended the whole thing two weeks later, and Newton was transferred to another Shatterdome by his own request not even a month after that.

And now, here he is, Skyping with Hermann. This is not a new development in their working relationship—each of them does, after all, gather information that could be crucial to the other party, and they’ve occasionally had to ring each other up for a virtual discussion that typically ends in bickering—but it is the first time they’re doing it outside typical laboratory hours. And it is the first time one of them has dared to bring up…certain events. Usually, they just skirt around the fact they dated for two years like their lives depend on it.

“Thought you might,” Newton says, with another uncomfortable laugh. “Anyway, I know you said it wasn’t the point, but, I started teaching myself knitting a few days after that, because I really wanted to replace yours, and I’ve been super busy, so I kinda just finished a couple weeks ago.” He shrugs. “You can throw it out. I don’t really care.”

A closer examination of the sweater confirms the story. It’s far too lumpy to be anything but homemade, and the stiches fluctuate in dexterity and neatness throughout the whole thing, though grow better overall the further up from the hemline they are. It is indeed a similar shade of brown to Hermann’s ruined one. Hermann feels an odd lump start to swell in his throat. “Oh,” he says. He brushes his fingers over the hem; when Newton made those stitches, Hermann realizes, he still thought he would be gifting the sweater to Hermann as his boyfriend. “It’s—a very lovely gift, Newton. Thank you.”

“Try it on!” Newton urges.

Hermann obliges, though he flushes when he realizes it will require him to divest himself of his blazer and sweatervest in front of Newton. Newton’s sweater is a perfect fit, of course. Better yet, it’s comfortable. “Thank you,” Hermann repeats.

Hermann has always felt no small amount of shame over the breakup. It wasn’t really because of Newton’s humming, or his clothing, or anything quite so shallow, after all; it was because Newton was too damn affectionate. Loving. He loved Hermann so unabashedly and unashamedly, and Hermann—who has never been unabashed or unashamed in anything in his life—simply did not know how to handle it. It scared him. His feelings for Newton scared him, too, so he did the logical, Gottliebian thing and repressed them. The worst of it all was that Newton understood why.

Now, though—now his feelings, which he’d ignored for so long, threaten to bubble over. Of course he still loves Newton. It was foolish of him to pretend otherwise. “Newton,” he begins.

But Newton doesn’t hear him. “I was thinking about transferring back to Hong Kong,” he says. He fiddles with his glasses again, one of his nervous tics. “I don’t really have a team to lead anymore here—everyone’s been fired, or quit, or…well. I was thinking I’d probably be more useful back there with you.”

“With me?” Hermann says.

“I submitted a request, anyway,” Newton says.

Hermann wants Newton back here with him.

“There’s not much laboratory space, in case you’ve forgotten,” Hermann warns him. “We’ll have to share again.”

“Eh, I don’t really mind,” Newton says. Sirens suddenly begin going off on his end, and he winces. “Shit, that’s loud. We’ve been having kaiju drills all week, it’s driving me fucking insane. I gotta go, dude, talk to you later.”

He waves as he flickers out. Hermann’s holographic display clicks off with a small whir. “Goodbye,” Hermann murmurs.

He goes to sleep that night wearing the sweater, and hoping—foolishly, and perhaps selfishly, for he’s sure Newton’s work has been invaluable across the Shatterdomes he’s bounced between—that Newton’s transfer request is approved.

[fluffymcu]

Letting Loose

Part EIGHTEEN

This series is TICKLE related.

Series Summary:  You’re the little sister of the one and only Captain America. You’re also the youngest girl on the team, so that automatically makes you the avengers’ little princess. And they spoil you as such. They have become your amazing family and you don’t know where you’d be without them. This series will show random adventures and fluffy events in the daily life of the reader and her family, along with an unexpected turn later on as you read.

A/N: I’m so excited to be writing this series! This is my first time writing one and I’m a bit nervous but I hope it all goes well. :)  Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1,962

It’s been a few weeks since the outdoor movie night. You were looking around in the kitchen for something to eat when you heard Sam make cooing noises from his place on the couch. You turned to see him flipping through a small book. You walked up to him to see what he was doing.

“What are you doing?” you asked. He looked up from the book and smiled.

“Just lookin’ at your baby pictures.” He said. 2 or 3 of them were from the 40’s that Steve had in his uniform pockets while he was looking for you when you were kidnapped by HYDRA. Others were pictures that Steve took of you during the year that you lived in an apartment when you were 5 or 6. The rest were pics that the team took of you as you were growing up after you moved to the tower then the compound.

“Aww, look at you here.” Sam said, pointing to a picture of you with cake on your face. You internally cringed. “So adorable! With your little bows and everything.” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not adorable Sam.” You said.

“Oh, so you think you’re grown now? That you're not adorable anymore?” Sam asked amused, raising an eyebrow at you. You pursed your lips and crossed your arms.

“I may not be grown but I’m not adorable.” You sass. Sam chuckled at that.

“Well I have proof right in this book that says otherwise. Look .“ he smirked, flipping through many pictures or tea parties, days in the pool, the team playing dress up with you, and much more. Through them all, Sam was cooing the while time. You groaned and covered your face in mild frustration. You flopped down on the couch and sat there with your arms crossed. Sam didn’t pay you any mind at your little attitude and just kept looking through the book.

Bucky walked in at that moment and noticed your body language. “What's y/n so worked up about?” he asked Sam. “I mean, I know she’s talking to you and that’s enough to make anyone upset but is there any other reason?” he said, smirking a bit when Sam rolled his eyes.

“Little y/n here is getting all blushy because I keep calling her adorable.” He says, going the extra mile and pinching your cheek. You whined and leaned way from his touch.

“I am not!” you could feel your face heat up. Bucky chuckles.

“Aww this is what you're cranky about? You are adorable! Look at these pictures of when you were a baby; just precious!” he says, taking the book from Sam. You growled and slumped down further on the couch. And so begins the endless teasing session.

“Look she's pouting. How cute. But as adorable as that is, I don’t know how I feel about having a pouty y/n. Buck?” Sam asked.

“Oh, absolutely not. We can’t have that! We love a happy girl!” You pout even more to show your annoyance.

“Nothing seems to work, Buck. What do you suggest we do?”

“Well, I suggest we do the thing that always makes her smile when she's pouty!” he smirked. Your eyes widened at that and you tried to make a run for it. Of course, the super soldier got to you before you could and thew you back on the couch. You were already giggling, your annoyed facade melted away. Nervousness overcame your senses as you realized not only Bucky is about to tickle you to pieces but Sam as well.

“Wahahait! Guhuhuys! I wont pout anymore I promise!!” you begged. Sam raised an eyebrow at you.

“But will you admit you're the most adorable thing ever?” he teased. You pursed your lips in a scowl.

“I'm not adorable!” you growled.

Bucky and Sam turned to face each other at the same time and nodded. “Denial.” They immediately pounced on you, eliciting loud and bubbly giggles. Bucky was wasting no time, drilling his fingers into your ribs while Sam was repeatedly squeezing up and down your thighs. You threw your head back as you laughed, keeping your arms pressed to your sides, even though it did nothing to stop the ticklish feeling.

“We can do this all day, y/n. We won’t stop until you admit it.” Bucky smirked, slipping his hands up further up to wiggle his hands under your arms. You yelped and erupted into high pitched laughter, kicking out your legs. Sam had gotten a hold of your ankle and was now scratching the soles of your feet, making you cackle. “Tickle tickle tickletickletickle! Aww look at that adorable smile!”

Your face was burning as you blushed and tried to cover your face with your hands. Bucky chortled and shook his head, lifting your shirt and blowing a long raspberry, tasing your sides at the same time. You shrieked and shot your arms right back down. “I CAHAHANT BREHEHEATHE!” You cried, shaking your head side to side. It became clear then that they really weren’t going to stop until you gave in. “AHAHAHAA OKAHAHAY OKAHAY ILL SAY IHIHIT! EEH!” You squealed and fell right back into hysterics when Sam started to squeeze your knee.

“Well? On with it then.” Sam said, not letting up on his torture. Bucky smirked, tickling your waistline, making your giggles more desperate.

“Lehehet me go fihihirst.” You giggled.

“NOPE!” Bucky said, blowing another raspberry. You arched your back with a loud squeal and finally gave in.

“NOOOHOHO OKAY IM ADOHOHORABLE!” You cry, scrunching up your neck when Bucky feathers is fingers around your neck.

“Damn right. And you better not forget it.” Bucky said, pointing a finger at you warningly. You blushed and turned on your belly to hide your face.

“Okay, yes, I get it.” You whine feigning annoyance. Bucky and Sam shook their heads at you fondly and left, leaving you to rest on the couch. You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until you woke up to the soft chatter of the team in the kitchen. You hadn’t opened your eyes yet and were still half asleep but you could tell you were covered by a blanket. Someone must have put it on you when you were asleep. 

You stirred a bit and woke up a little more at the sound of chuckling and you sat up on the couch. You had wrinkle marks on the side of your face that was on the couch and you turned to see the team gathered around the island, having a conversation. Bucky has the first one to turn and see you, smiling and winking at you. You giggled, drawing the attention of the other team members. Steve smirked at your sleepy look and put a hand on his hip. “Look who finally woke up.”

“How was your nap, Sleeping Beauty?” Tony teased, taking a sip of his coffee.

You giggled again and fell back onto the couch to cover your blush with the blanket. “What are you guys talking about.” You asked, your voice muffled a bit. Steve walked over and sat on the couch next to you, lifting up your legs to sit. 

“We’re trying to see where we wanna go to eat. There’s a nice new Wing place a few minutes out of Town Square. Think you’d like that?” He asked, rubbing up and down your legs comfortingly. You nodded with lazy smile. 

“Alright, it’s decided then. Everyone get ready, we leave in 20.” Tony said, clapping his hands once. You got up and headed to your room to change. 

-----

You had all just gotten seated at a table after waiting for a bit. The place was still new so there were many people there wanting to try it out. You sat next to Wanda and Bruce and across from Peter and Steve. Nat was sitting next to him. As you all were waiting for your food, you looked up to see Steve sit back and wrap an arm around Nat’s chair, kinda on her shoulders while Nat scooted closer with a small smile.

You grin to yourself and dig in your food when it arrives, making a note to yourself to tease Nat about it later.

------

You got home and followed Nat around all the way to her room, without saying a word until you closed the door behind you.

“So...? You and Steve have been getting pretty close, huh?” You asked, bumping her with your elbow and smiling smugly.

“What makes you say that?” She said, folding the rest of her laundry and obviously trying to play dumb. You rolled your eyes playfully and scoffed. 

“Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t know. I think you should tell him and the team already; that you officially like him.”

“And why should I feel the need to do that yet?”

“Because... if you don’t tell him, I will.” Of course you were joking, you would never reveal a secret like that to someone. You turned on your heel and went for her bedroom door. “Oh, steeeeve!” You sang. 

You didn’t expect Nat to quickly come up behind you and stick her hands under your arms. You immediately clamped up and fell to the floor in a fit of laughter. “Y/n don’t you dare-I will stuff you in my closet and keep you hostage if you tell him.” She playfully growled, following you to the ground and wrapping herself around you like a koala and tickling your sides. You were in hysterics.

“OKAHAHAHAY I WONT TELL HIM!” You cried. You were basically trapped in her hold and could do nothing but laugh your heart out. She dug her nails in between your ribs, making you cackle and arch your back.

“Promise?” She smirked, pinching mischeviously at your hip bones.

“YEHEHES, I WOULD NEVEHEHEHER!” After that, she let you go from the hold and you sprawled out on the floor, panting. Nat smirked at your exhausted state.

“Good.” She hummed. She stood up and leaned against the bed, her lips pursing a bit as she gulped. “So... how do you feel about it?” She asks a little more serious now.

You sat up on the floor and raised your eyebrows at her. “Seriously? I ship you guys so hard.” You chuckle. “If I’m being honest, I was rooting for you guys since... years ago.” You chortled. “I really hope you guys become a thing in the future. Just know I’ll always be your #1 supporter.” 

Nat smiles at that, pulling you into a hug. “Thank you y/n. That means a lot. Really. I don’t know what would be possible of us if you didn’t support a relationship between us. Maybe now we actually have a chance.” She says. 

“Of course!” You smile and return the hug. 

-------

Tonight was Movie night with the team and you were snuggled up to Thor and Bucky. You smiled to yourself and leaned your head on Thor’s shoulder. You looked around to see everyone on the couches, sitting net to each other nd having their snacks with smiles on their faces. Right then, you had a moment where you became aware of the life you had. You had an amazing family that loved you so much and you loved them back. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You glanced over at Ruby Anne to see her sitting net to her dad. You couldn’t wait until Ruby started to feel the same feeling you feel about your family now. You sighed happily, resting your head back on his shoulder.

  “Goodnight. Love you guys.” You sighed before closing your eyes. The rest of the team smiled at you and bid you goodnight as well. 

“We love you too y/n/n.”

-------------------------------------------

I hope you all enjoyed the series! this was really amazing and stressful and fun and interesting to write and although some of these chapters may not be that good, just know I put my heart and soul into this series and I was really happy to share it with you guys. <3 

Remember if you’d like to request a plus chapter continuing this storyline, feel free to request one but please be specific as to what you’d like to see in that chapter. Thank you so much for reading! :D

[ilguna]

Berceuse - Chapter Three

summary: you can’t protect her forever.

warnings; swearing.

wc; 10.8k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Alyssum sits alone at a table, picking at her nails while she waits for the Gamemakers to finally start calling in tributes to their private sessions. After what happened on the first day of training, she’d been given a very specific set of instructions by you and Finnick. 

And to sum it all up; she’s supposed to keep her head down and pass through training with no other problems. Do what she wants to do, play with weapons and refresh her survival skills, and keep the hell away from people unless she’s going to be nice. Alyssum hasn’t been put in timeout for years, but this feels exactly like it.

As for Paslee, he was told that if he killed Alyssum in any sort of way, directly or indirectly, and ended up winning the Hunger Games, he’d never be forgiven and he’d live to regret it. Not only would he have to live with the guilt of her death, he’d also be stuck with a bunch of victors--maybe a whole district--that loathes him.

Needless to say, the careers haven’t bothered Alyssum either, especially with Paslee there to redirect them when they come close. Which was hardly ever, Alyssum kept close to the survival stations, and even joined Katniss and Peeta when she felt like she could learn something with them, not wanting to show off.

Although, it’s no secret that she knows stuff that the others do not. 

If it comes down to just her in the arena in two days--which she has a feeling it will--there’s not a single doubt in her mind that she’ll be able to survive. If she can’t fight, it’s fine, because she doesn’t need to know how. As long as she can clean water, hunt animals, and stay out of sight, she’ll be fine.

The only people Alyssum has warmed up to are Katniss and Peeta. She’s not entirely sure that it matters in the end though, because they haven’t shown a lick of knowledge when it comes to fighting. Of course, she doesn’t have much experience herself, but at least she went to the stations to figure some stuff out.

Alyssum rests her head on her hand, right as a Gamemaker comes over the intercom, calling for Marvel, from District One. Her eyes shift over to see the tallest boy out of the career group stand, sharing a smile with her friends. She closes her eyes after that, and lets the clock on the wall tick away, counting down the minutes until it’s her turn.

After Marvel is Glimmer, then Cato, then Clove. They don’t return after they’ve been called into their session, which is good news to her. They’d probably brag if they came back inside, and she’s not really in the mood to listen to that. She’s already had to endure their constant chatter and laughter, talk about a headache.

The girl from District Three is then called, setting Paslee up to go next. When Alyssum looks over to him, curious about what he looks like right now, they lock eyes. He doesn’t stare for long, quickly shifting his eyes back to his own empty table that he’s sitting at.

As soon as Paslee is called, Alyssum begins counting down the time, eyes never leaving the clock. Five minutes, then ten. The nerves in her stomach sprout, and then make her sick when she thinks about her skills. What will she show the Gamemakers that she hasn’t already? The clock hits fifteen, and it’s only a couple seconds later, when they’re calling her name.

She slides off of the bench, standing up to her full height, which isn’t much, before starting her way to the door. She can feel her heart beating in her chest, and despite trying her best to ignore it, it’s loud. The doors open for her automatically, letting her inside, and sealing behind her to ensure she can’t go back.

The Gamemakers are all sitting together in a box, dressed in dark robes. Over these past few days during lunch, they’d go and speak to the experts from the stations, huddled together with the head trainer, too. They made it no secret that they had been discussing tributes, with occasional gestures and glances to the tables they were sitting at.

Now, it’s only her and them. It’s Alyssum’s turn to show them a secret skill, something she hadn’t wanted the other tributes to know for obvious reasons. As long as she has one deadly idea, then she might be alright.

The good news is that she has their attention. One Gamemaker motions for her to start, and she takes the initiative, turning her body towards the weapons, because she’s shown them what she can do with survival skills. The experts have told them how good she is at the stations. The only thing they don’t know is how handy she is with a knife.

She has you to thank for this skill.

This is one of the moments where Alyssum has to be grateful over the fact that you never left her defenseless. You have been drilling the idea of handling knives into her head since she turned nine.

So, when she walks up to the table, with all the differently carved knives on a pretty display, she picks up the first knife and doesn’t worry about the length, or the weight. Alyssum knows she has to find solutions in the face of discomfort. How will she combat it in one throw?

The knife she holds is too light, which is a problem she’s not used to. A part is telling her that now isn’t the time to overcome a challenge, it’ll put her score at risk. Then again, she hasn’t had the chance to play with knives for days, she should just enjoy it while she can.

Alyssum looks over the handle to see that it’s carved in the shape of a flower. Delicate, and the petals dig into her palm if she squeezes it too lightly, she’s careful not to. Her body turns towards the Gamemakers, holding the knife up in her hand by her thumb. In her time of training at the boarding school, Alyssum has only heard whispers about what actually happened during your private session, and she’s your sister.

There is one aspect that the story always revolves around, and it’s a knife. You somehow used a knife to score a ten. Alyssum wishes that could be the case for her, to show the same impressive skill you had, but it’s going to be impossible. She’s twelve, not fifteen. She has to keep her expectations realistic, and that’s why she’s aiming for an eight.

Without warning, she spins back to the targets at the knife station, arm drawn so far back that it hurts. Her eyes land on one of the bodies hanging up by a rope, fingers releasing the knife as she throws. It slices through the air quickly, no weight holding it back, and slams into the middle of the forehead.

She makes a face, looking back down at the other knives at display. There are four more copies of the knife she just threw, but she picks up one that’s on the opposite end, and finds it to be much heavier than an average knife. It clicks in her head then, that they’re laid out from least to most heaviest. If she picked out one in the middle, it’d probably work better for her.

With this one, she takes more time to get used to the weight, holding it in her palm to analyze where it’s coming from. The blade is thick, made of real metal, the blade sharp to the touch. However, it’s the handle of it that’s making it harder to hold. If she throws it, the knife is going to be more bottom heavy.

She can’t throw it by the blade this time, then. 

Alyssum rolls her wrist a couple of times, and then throws, watching as the knife slams into the skull of the dummy hard enough for it to make a ‘thump’ sound on impact. She’s pleased to see that there’s barely an inch gap between the two weapons, side by side, parallel.

It goes on like this, with her bouncing back and forth between knives, throwing them at various parts of the body. Chest, elbows, knees, shoulders. It isn’t until she realizes that she has one knife left, the one that feels just right in her palm, does she see just how much she’s gone through.

A small smile appears on her face, just before she throws this knife too, lodging it where the throat should be.

Her heart is still pounding in her ears, sucking in deep breaths through her nose while she turns to the Gamemakers, who have all suddenly stopped to watch her. She raises her chin slightly, and gives a firm nod. She’s done. She’s shown them all her one secret.

They dismiss her, and she takes a different door to leave the gymnasium. As soon as that door closes behind her, she breathes out in relief. Inside of the elevator, she takes the time to calm her marathon breathing, because there’s no need to worry anymore. She did it, she made it through another obstacle of the Hunger Games. 

Her next focus will be the interview, and then the arena, itself.

When she walks inside of the apartment, she’s able to see you sitting on the couch with Elysia, a leg tucked beneath you. The conversation looks lighthearted, nothing important. Caesar Flickerman is already on the television, talking about what the scores might look like for this year. As if the tributes ever change drastically enough to change the prediction.

“I’m back.” Alyssum announces, catching your attention. She gives a look to the hallway, wondering if Paslee is hiding in his room. 

She partially wants to ask him what the Gamemakers had done for him, if they fell silent when he showed them his special skill. Or if he’s not as special, because he’s seventeen, and he’s a career. He’s expected to have a large set of skills, therefore it’s nothing to bat their eyes at.

Either way, she doesn’t see him nearby, he must have gone straight to his room after talking to you. Alyssum’s probably going to do the same, and take a hot shower to try and relax. She has a feeling that it’s going to be nearly impossible to do, considering her whole life in the arena depends on this score.

“How was it?” you ask, turning your body to her more.

Alyssum wanders forward, “I didn’t mess up once.”

A smile appears on your face, “That’s great!”

“When do we get to see the scores?”

“After dinner,” Elysia sits up slightly, “The stylists will be joining us, too.”

Alyssum makes a face, “I’m gonna go shower and get ready, then.”

She doesn’t wait for either of them to say anything else, heading up the steps and into the hallway so that she can go to her room. She only gets a few steps in before stopping near her door, holding her breath. She can faintly hear that you and Elysia have resumed your conversation, and waits to see if she can hear anything about Paslee.

The only thing she’s able to catch is that Paslee is also confident that he scored highly. After that, the door in front of her opens, and Alyssum barely has enough time to jump to pretend she’s still going for her room. Paslee stands in the doorway, staring at her, eyes slowly lowering into a squint.

She smiles, “Just came back.” 

She leaves, makes sure that her door shuts behind her, and goes the extra mile to lock it to ensure that there won’t be any unwanted guests. If Paslee thinks that he did well during his session, then that means she should expect a score higher than eight tonight. For her, it’s unheard of for any twelve year old to get higher than a seven, but judging by the Gamemaker’s reactions, she might just barely make the cut that qualifies her as a career.

All she can do right now is cross her fingers and hope.

Alyssum picks out a nice outfit for the dinner, and then wanders into the bathroom. She peels off the training outfit, which has begun to feel like a second skin during these past couple of days. Of course, she’s given a freshly cleaned outfit everyday, but that doesn’t mean that they stink from sweat any less.

In the shower, she washes herself from head to toe, and it isn’t until she’s done, does she realize just how scorching hot the water is. And with her senses finally returning to her--after reliving her private session with the Gamemakers the entire shower--she shuts off the water and rubs at her skin carefully, not liking the sensitive feeling. 

Her body and hair is blow-dried, she pulls on her new outfit, feeling much better already. She brings a couple of hair ties with her to the window in her room, sitting on the floor to watch the city below. She can’t imagine the frenzy that the Capitol people must be in right now, desperate to get their evening activities done as soon as possible before the scores air.

She ends up with a bun on the back of her head, wanting her hair to be off the back of her neck.

She sits there for a while, watching the cars below. Her thoughts are stuck on her brothers, what they’re doing at the moment, if they’re calm, if they’re worried. This is the second time that they’re having to go through this, an occasion that doesn’t happen often. Of course, siblings volunteer all the time, like Marsh and Paslee, but the chances of them winning are slim. Very few can come out like Gloss and Cashmere, sibling victors who are very good friends of yours.

The difference here is that Alyssum didn’t volunteer, she was chosen, just like how you were chosen nine years prior. And her odds are low, lower than yours ever were. If she’s going to make it out alive, she’s going to have to be sneakier, more clever than you ever were, which is going to be impossible to do. The wolf in sheep’s clothing tributes never make it very far anymore.

Not to mention, she’s already fucked up her chances at playing that role off, anyway. Her stunt in the gymnasium gave her attitude away to everyone in that room, and the careers didn’t make it a secret that she was going to be a target. She knows that she shouldn’t beat herself up over it, especially considering that she’s done that enough already, but she screwed herself over. 

Royally.

About half an hour later, there’s a knock at her door. It’s Elysia, telling her that dinner is ready when she is. Alyssum pulls on a pair of flats before leaving her room to join everyone else at the table. Just as Elysia had promised earlier, the stylists are at the table.

Alyssum takes her spot at the table, and immediately there’s questions being asked about their private sessions. She’s a little stingy on the answers, she’s not allied with Paslee anymore, which means that whatever information she gives up about herself now, can be spun and told to the careers. For Paslee, however, he doesn’t spare details.

She has a feeling that it’s because he wants to build an image for you and Finnick, that he’s not all bad and he does have some potential. It also might have something to do with earlier, when she was basically caught eavesdropping. She waits patiently for him to finish what he’s saying, since she already found a way to crumble the flimsy sandcastle he’s been building.

“That reminds me,” Alyssum says, looking between you and Finnick, “Is it normal for the Gamemakers to be just… silent?”

You sit up, “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, “They weren’t talking or anything, during or after I was showing them my skill.”

Elysia turns her attention to Paslee, who’s beginning to lose the smile on his face, “What about you?”

“I--um,” his face twists, “A few of them were talking, but most of them were watching me.”

You and Finnick are sharing a look. Finnick tilts his head to the side, turning his attention back to the food in front of him, “Well, can’t say I’m surprised.”

“To answer your question,” you begin slowly, “No, that isn’t normal. I didn’t even have undivided attention.”

Finnick nods in agreement, “We should talk later on why that happened.”

Alyssum nods, eating her food while trying not to smile. The bragging from Paslee is done, she can tell by his sudden interest in his food, which he had been shunning earlier. 

Once everyone is done eating, they migrate to the living room, where they all take their different positions while they wait for the scores to air. Alyssum has her legs criss-crossed beneath her, rubbing her knees to bring them some warmth. 

Once Caesar is done with the formalities, he jumps right into scores, starting with District One, boys first. The boy gets a nine, the girl an eight, the boy’s score is normal, but Alyssum finds herself hung up over the girl’s score. What did she do to be so terrible? There’s hardly any time to think about it, as Cato gets a ten and Clove gets the same.

She hums.

A hand appears on her shoulder, giving it a small massage. It’s you, it’s always your go-to move when Alyssum is feeling stressed or nervous. She has to admit that this is an unforeseen twist of events. Clove is a lot better than Aly took her for, which means that it’s going to come back and bite later.

Paslee’s face appears on screen, Caesar gives a nod, and then announces that his score is a ten, too. Cheers and congratulations rain on him, as it’s a big achievement. Alyssum isn’t as worried about Paslee as she is about Clove. She already knows that he’s not allowed to directly kill her, he’ll just be messing with his relationship with you and Finnick. Which is not a gamble that most tributes want to play with their mentors.

When it’s Alyssum’s turn, the room falls into a hush, the anticipation building. Her picture comes in, and Caesar takes a moment to look over the score. A proud smile builds on his face, looking at the camera again before he says, “Alyssum Gallows, with a score of eight.”

More cheering, Alyssum can feel the balloon pop and dissipate in her chest, relief taking over. She scored high, that’s all she wanted. She’s allowed within the career playground now, she’s one of them. All there’s left to do is blow away the competition during the interviews and she’s golden for the arena.

“Amazing!” Elysia cheers, clapping quickly.

“Never done before, I don’t think.” Laurel says to Pleurisy, she’s nodding in agreement.

You pull Alyssum in for a hug, “Good job, Aly.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you and Finnick,” she murmurs back, squeezing your arm.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Paslee asks.

Elysia clears her throat and stands, she’s probably going to be the first to leave, “You two will be preparing for the interviews, there’s a lot of work to do on you both. I will start with Alyssum, you’ll be with (Y/n) and Finnick for four hours, and then we’ll switch. You’ll get more details about what you’re doing tomorrow, I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Paslee stands, and stretches his arms above his head with a yawn.

“We’ll get you up tomorrow if you’re not already.” Finnick says.

“Thank you,” he starts out of the living room, “For the training all these years, it looks like it paid off.”

“Just keep up with that spirit and we’ll be even,” you tell him, “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

Just as he takes off to his room, Caesar’s finishing up with District Twelve. Their tributes normally always score low, so no one normally pays attention, yet the television hasn’t been shut off just yet. Alyssum watches as Peeta receives an eight, making Paslee stop moving, halfway into the hallway already.

The room’s buzz dies out into silence once again, which means that no one misses when Katniss gets an eleven.

Alyssum stares for a moment, and then looks over to Paslee, who seems to be just as awestruck as she is. She may only be twelve, but never in her life has she seen a Twelve tribute score any higher than a five, which is their average score in the first place. Aly can’t help it when she looks at you and Finnick, waiting for some sort of a reaction.

It comes from Laurel first, “That stylist of hers has really set the stage for them.” she’s scowling, “We should get going so we can fix the interview outfits again.”

Pleurisy gets to her feet, “And we were nearly done this time, too. We’ll see you later.”

They leave, the door shutting behind them with a click. No one wants to move from where they’re standing or sitting. It’s a few more beats before you clear your throat, getting to your feet, “Well, she sure knows how to pick ‘em.”

“We should go have that talk on the balcony,” Finnick says.

“Do you think that it was a mistake?” Paslee asks hopefully.

“The Gamemakers never make a mistake that severe,” Elysia snuffs, heading to leave.

You nod, “She’s right, Katniss must have done something fantastic in order to get a score that good. My only advice to you now is not to go after Katniss purposely.”

He nods, turning away and going up the steps. He disappears into the hallway, Elysia is nowhere to be seen. The only people left are the Gallows family, gathered together in a triangle, sharing a look of doubt between them. You let out a sigh, placing your hand on Aly’s lower back as you guide her to the balcony, where the wind will be too loud to try and eavesdrop through.

“What exactly happened?” you ask her, and Alyssum doesn’t waste time reciting her time with the Gamemakers. From beginning to end, every single detail is given up, and it’s clear that she’s been dying to share, because she forgets to take breaths of air between sentences.

By the time she’s done speaking, she’s waiting anxiously for your guys’ assessment of what happened, and what it means. It obviously has to be good in some aspect, considering that she just pulled an eight. The other twelve year-old girl had only gotten a seven, which is pretty good, considering her odds, but it’s not career worthy.

“I feel like they were holding back on her score,” Finnick murmurs, leaning up against the railing, staring out at the city lights, “If she didn’t miss a single target with perfect accuracy, she should’ve gotten a higher score.”

“Yeah, but if they scored her higher, then that means she would have a bigger target on her back.”

“Publicity, though.”

“And they’d have to admit that not only is District Four training their tributes, so are One and Two. They’d have to do something about it.”

“She’s your sister, though. We know the way they score tributes and why they do it, she should have gotten a nine.” Finnick looks at you.

“You got a nine,” you remind Finnick, “And with what you showed them, they would have to reevaluate their whole scoring system just to allow her to be a nine.”

“That’s my point, they’ve changed so much, this shouldn’t have been a big deal.”

A sigh escapes you, “I’m grateful for the fact that she even got an eight in the first place. Like I said earlier, she would’ve had a bigger target on her back, and we already agreed that she should be watching her moves so the careers aren’t going after her specifically.”

Finnick makes a face, not liking this conclusion, but turns his attention back to Aly anyway, “You did good, kid. As for Katniss and Peeta, I would be careful trying to be their ally. You know that the careers will want them now.”

“Take advantage of that,” you cup her face, making her look at you, “Their eyes won’t be on you, which is a perfect distraction.” 

You place a kiss on her forehead, “I’ll try.”

“Good.” you say, “Go to bed, Elysia will be working you from start to end. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, love you.”

“I love you too, Aly.”

--

When Elysia wakes Alyssum the following morning, she waits by the door until Alyssum sits up, after that she takes off. Aly takes her time going through the closet, since there’s no set outfit that Laurel had planned. She throws on some jeans and a shirt, then moves onto the bathroom to do the rest of her morning routine.

By the time she’s done and moving onto the dining room, everyone is already at the table eating. She takes her seat, and listens as you, Finnick and Elysia go back and forth on meaningless things. Mostly about the scores and what the other tributes had gotten. It seems as if you and Finnick went back to rewatch the scores, just in case any other big scores were missed. 

And they had, the boy from District Eleven had scored a ten, not a big surprise. Both Paslee and Alyssum offer up what little information they observed inside of the Training Center. Just that he’s intimidating and is clearly hiding some serious skills, as he didn’t do much when it came to training.

When food comes at a slow pace, it’s time to get the four hours started. Alyssum drinks the rest of her hot chocolate, wipes her mouth, and follows Elysia back to her room. 

It’s clear that Elysia has been doing this for years, because there’s not a single second of hesitation in her movements. She pulls out a long dress and heels for Alyssum to put on while she rearranges the chairs to fit her needs. Before Alyssum is allowed to sit, she’s required to walk around the room to allow Elysia to assess her.

She’s wobbly, it’s not a secret. There are several times where Elysia jerks to catch Aly when she begins to fall. Elysia mentions something about the carpet isn’t helping, but that doesn’t mean they get to change environments. They spend a good thirty minutes on just this, and by the end of it, Aly’s not half bad.

The next three and a half hours are tiring. Elysia fixes posture, corrects the way she sits several times, and has a whole segment on tweaking manners. A smile at the end of every sentence, or at the beginning, how to do a polite pause--Aly can’t believe that’s even a thing--and so on. She’s sure that Elysia is making it all up, until she gives a perfect example of all of her teachings thrown together in just a sentence.

Alyssum is dumbfounded.

“Well?” Elysia asks after a long moment of silence.

Alyssum’s face is twisted, “I feel like I could skip over all of this and the Capitol wouldn’t care.”

Elysia lets out a laugh, covering her mouth, “You’re lucky my four hours is over. It’s time for lunch.”

Alyssum changes back into her original outfit, helps Elysia put the room back together, and finds that Paslee is still working with you two. It isn’t until Alyssum has sat at the table, and is begun to be served lunch, do you realize that time is up.

Lunch is quick, Alyssum offers Paslee good luck in passing. She can’t imagine what he’ll be doing for four hours with Elysia if that’s what she just went through. He’s confused, she smiles, and joins you and Finnick in the sitting room while Elysia directs him to his room.

Alyssum doesn’t even get to sit down before Finnick is turning to you, “Okay, let me speak and then you can object.”

You raise your eyebrows, “So it’s not going to be something that I like?”

“Hear me out first.” Finnick says, and then looks at Alyssum, “If we tried to do some delicate personality on her, then she'd be looked over, which is what I originally suggested. However, laying low was ruined her first day of training, so we can’t just keep working with it.”

You stare at Finnick, “You’re suggesting we try and make her aggressive? Do you see her?”

“The Capitol doesn’t know what happened that first day of training, but the other tributes did. And now that everyone has seen her score, any facade that we were trying to give off, is ruined. There’s no point in trying to fool the other tributes.” Finnick explains, “That was the whole point of her being careful, right?”

“Yes, but I’m not entirely sure how the Capitol is going to react to her being anything other than innocent.”

He smiles, “Won’t know until we try.”

“This is not a game.”

“It isn’t, and still we took a chance exactly like this when we sent Marsh into the interviews with a comedy skit.” 

It’s weird for Alyssum to see you and Finnick like this outside of the boarding school. You two have your moments like these all the time, banter back and forth until a solution is worked out. It’s how the two of you work through problems, minor or not. No matter what happens, though, you two never do it at home. And if you do, it’s never been in front of Alyssum.

Either way, Alyssum thinks that he’s won you over.

“Okay, say we do go through with this,” you start, Finnick sits up taller, “What’s her play? She’s not intimidating, she’s too small for that. She doesn’t look aggressive, and proved that during the tribute parade, and she’s my sister.”

“Exactly, she’s your sister. They all know what happened during our games, how we won, how we got there. It doesn’t matter what she looks like or what she did, she just has to try right now. It’s all about playing pretend.”

There’s a pause of silence as you look her over, gears turning in your head, “Okay, what do you suggest?”

“Aloof.”

Their eyes turn back to Alyssum, she raises her eyebrows, trying not to smile.

“We can make that work.”

They start getting to work on her after that, giving examples on how she can be aloof. Once again, she finds out that she’s really not bad at it, if she relaxes enough, it can come naturally. When they’re sure she has the personality down, they begin the questions that force her to open up or shut them out in order to keep it intact.

She’s good at it, picking which questions get to pass long enough to tell the Capitol a little about herself. They already know about her family, even if all the information is outdated now. She needs to tell them about her, how she went from that toddler in the family interview to a girl earning an eight on her training score.

After talking about herself, she’s then asked to say some stuff about the Capitol. It doesn’t come as naturally, since you and Finnick haven’t made your hatred for the Capitol a secret by any means. It’s rubbed off on her over the years, and recently it’s only begun to get worse. She’s stuck trying to find little things that will satisfy the Capitol’s curiosity on her experience thus far.

When she’s told to stop, she’s relieved but worried. You lean back on the chair you sit in, stretching your arms above your head, “She’s too much like me, I clammed up when it came to the Capitol, too.”

“Then don’t talk about the Capitol,” Finnick suggests, “Change the topic to something else, like home.”

“That would work better.” You say, readjusting.

And so it starts again, this time much smoother. You’re satisfied with her answers, shift gears, and tell her that in the last hour that you three have together, she’s going to pretend as if she’s actually being interviewed. You’ll be the one asking questions, Finnick will be the audience and judge by how they would react, and Alyssum has to throw all of her knowledge together. This includes what Elysia had taught her.

She doesn’t know how you know so many questions, or why they come so effortlessly, but there’s hardly a break between questions. Finnick will gasp, clap, sit in silence, and shake his head depending on answers. If it’s appropriate, she’ll elaborate on answers, which Finnick will nod encouragingly to tell her that it’s good and she should keep going. 

The second that their four hours is up, Alyssum is on her feet, ready to be done with the mock interview. Her jaw hurts from talking so much, and she’s got a headache going on. At least you and Finnick seem to be satisfied with her results, because it’s nothing but smiles on your guys’ part.

Elysia comes out a minute later, dusting her hands and placing them on her hips, “They’re ready for tomorrow.”

“Yes, they are.” You agree.

Dinner is quiet and uneventful, both tributes had been given more than enough time to learn everything needed. They eat their dinner, and stick by long enough for you to tell them that they don’t have matching outfits for the interviews anymore. The two of them had completely forgotten to update Laurel and Pleurisy about it.

“Thank us later,” Finnick smiles.

“It still has the same idea to it, doesn’t it?” Alyssum asks.

“For you, yes. Paslee has something different.” You say.

Paslee shrugs, not bothered, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“The stylists aren’t starting at noon tomorrow, so I wouldn’t stay up late if I were you.”

He doesn’t say anything back. Alyssum begins to push her plates and bowls away from her, getting ready to leave. She can imagine that it’s going to be a busy morning tomorrow, and knowing her nerves, she’s not going to be able to fall asleep easily. 

“I’m going to go, too.” she says, smiling, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Aly. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she chirps, heading into her room.

She stands before her bed for a few seconds, not feeling tired. A part of her just wants to sit in the shower and let the warmth rain on her, but she knows that the prep team will undoubtedly have her do that tomorrow, anyways. 

Alyssum lays in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, occasionally out the window. She misses her bed, back home it wouldn’t matter if she’s exhausted or not, she could always fall asleep in her bed. Not to mention all the soft blankets that she’s collected over the years. The only way she’ll ever feel comfort like that again, is if she somehow manages to pull off a win.

She’s got a footing, she can’t deny it. Laurel is her stylist, you’re her older sister, Finnick’s her brother-in-law. She’s been training for five years now, Paslee too. There’s spotlight on her, she’s managed to score an eight, and made semi-friends with Katniss and Peeta.

All she has to do is not screw this up, which is easier said than done.

She’s twelve years-old, no one has ever won at twelve, Finnick is the youngest victor for a reason. She made enemies with another career, who’s fifteen and bigger than her, and scored a ten. Clove is going to have some influence over the career pack, which means that if she wants to hunt down Alyssum, she’s not going to get any opposition.

And Alyssum doesn’t have any real allies, she has to keep that in mind too. Katniss and Peeta were a nice thought, but she didn’t secure any sort of deal with them. She’s on her own inside of the arena, and that can be the safest bet sometimes. Only, when situations get sticky, it’s good to have that extra pair of hands.

She’s screwed inside of that arena, and that’s all she can think about.

The prep team scares Alyssum awake when they appear in the morning. Cleo’s pulling her into a sitting position, she can hear the shower running in the bathroom, and Leo is pulling chairs around to rearrange the room. She and Elysia had worked so hard to get everything looking back to normal too…

“Rise and shine!” Cleo laughs, “You sleep like the dead.”

No, that’s not right. Alyssum doesn’t even remember falling asleep, much less getting drowsy. It must have been some time after three did she fall asleep, because that’s the last time she checked the clock before rolling over to stare out the window again.

“What time is it?” Aly asks, rubbing her eyes.

“Ten thirty, which is why we’ve got to start.”

She follows their directions, dragging her feet the entire way. They start with a shower to jumpstart her, pressing buttons that she hadn’t considered using before. They wash her hair, and make her use a special body wash so she smells sugary. When she’s done, her hair is like silk and almost doesn’t feel real.

They dress her in undergarments, and that’s as far as they go with clothing. Beth takes her time on Alyssum’s hair, humming a song to herself. Cleo and Leo go back and forth between talking and arguing about certain things. No matter what happens, Beth doesn’t get in the middle of it.

All of her nails are painted white with hollow pink circles placed in specific areas. Once Cleo moves out of the way, Leo gets to work with makeup. It’s the last time she’s able to see what Beth is doing to her hair, which has so far consisted of straightening it. Beth must’ve been waiting for this part, because it’s when she really starts getting to work.

Laurel must want the reveal to be a surprise, then. Alyssum gets comfortable with her eyes closed, tuning in and out when she feels like pitching in her own opinions. Mostly she’s letting her imagination take her on a ride on what the arena might look like. The possibilities are endless, of course. If it doesn’t have anything to do with water, she hopes it won’t be a desert, at the very least.

Alyssum can’t stand hot climates, she’d rather freeze at night than spend an entire day sweating, going back and forth getting water. Dehydration is a nightmare, and she won’t want to live through it long enough to be declared a victor.

Beth then says she’s done, spraying hairspray on Alyssum’s hair, it smells just as good as her body wash did. They have to wait until Leo is done before they have her get up and turn her back to the mirror and window. Cleo shakes a can, Aly holds her arms out so that Cleo can get to every single area.

The initial spray is cold, but the longer she circles Alyssum, the more she gets used to the feeling. Whatever it is, it’s glittery, just not to the point that it’s overwhelming. When Alyssum manages to sneak a wipe on the wall, curious if it’ll transfer, it stays stuck to her skin.

“Don’t worry,” Leo says, as if he’s reading her mind, “It’ll come off when you shower tonight.”

That’s good news, she won’t be an obvious target each time she steps into the sun.

She continues to stand in the corner, waiting for Laurel to finally come by. Cleo twists hair around her finger, listening to Beth talk about what she plans to do with her hair. All it takes is for Leo to ask her to do his hair too, and she lightens up and asks what he wants done. This is the most Alyssum’s heard Beth talk since she got here.

As soon as the door opens, conversation dies out. Alyssum is instructed to close her eyes again while Laurel looks her over. Once it’s approved, the dress is brought in, and Alyssum has to navigate it with her eyes closed. Cleo is there to hold her hand and steady Aly when she needs it, but for the most part she’s useless. After the dress, comes the heels.

She expects she’ll be allowed to open her eyes after this part, but they insist on putting the finishing touches on her first. Dangly earrings, she can tell by the feeling. A few rings on her fingers, a necklace, one bracelet, and even go as far to give her an ankle bracelet too. Then Beth remembers the headband that she was supposed to put on Alyssum,

“She’s beautiful.” Cleo sighs, “Can we show her now?”

“Yes,” Laurel says, she sounds happy too.

Alyssum is shuffled in front of the mirror, and with a countdown from her prep team, she’s allowed to open her eyes. She doesn’t recognize who stands in front of her. Alyssum has dressed up at home before, the day of the reaping being a good example of that, however she’s never gone this far before.

Her hair is down and curled at the ends, and the white fabric headband in the middle. She can’t pinpoint what color her eyeshadow is, each time she moves her head to get a better angle to look at herself, it changes into a different pastel color. She knows she has rainbow highlights on her cheeks, at the very least. She also has winged eyeliner and fake eyelashes to bring more attention to her face.

Her earrings are rose gold and have little flowers spread throughout the chain. As for her dress, the upper half is like a tank top with how thick the straps are, it's a very smooth material. And the bottom half of it resembles layered petals, almost like a rose, that ends at her knees. It’s stiff enough to keep the bell look, but moves when touched. It has that lenticular look that her eyeshadow does, only with more glitter--that also doesn’t transfer.

The bracelet is a simple gold chain with dainty flower charms on it, her rings are also gold. Some have flowers, others have little designs that keep with the theme that Laurel has given her. Her ankle bracelet matches the one on her wrist, and her shoes are see-through with straps around her ankles.

No matter how she moves, she catches the light and changes colors. The colors match, too. Alyssum’s not sure how they managed to pull that one off, but they did it perfectly. If her eyeshadow goes green, so does her dress. However, it seems as if the colors mostly keep in the range of red, pink or orange. 

“This is amazing,” Alyssum moves to a different angle, and catches the light pink that they must have been modeling the outfit after.

“It was your idea.” Laurel smiles.

“You managed to pull it off, though, I can’t take the credit for this,” Alyssum looks at her stylist, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” she looks at her watch, “I think it’s time for us to get to the elevator, so look her over.”

The prep team circles Alyssum for a full minute, checking and double-checking areas to make sure they aren’t missing anything. Once they’re sure they haven’t missed anything, they escort Alyssum out of her room and straight to the elevator. Elysia is standing by it, talking to you and Finnick. You two have also dressed up for the occasion.

“It’s a shame I’m not your stylist anymore, because you two look like shit.” Laurel says, causing you and Finnick to turn around.

“Excuse me?” your voice is sharp, “We made your career, the least you could have is some respect!”

Finnick places his hands on his hips, “What she said.”

You can’t hold the serious face you were trying to keep, a snort comes from Finnick as you dissolve into laughter. Once the two of you are collected enough, your attention turns to Alyssum, “Look at you! Reed and Mox are going to love this.”

Alyssum smiles, doing a small curtsy, “Will Caesar be able to compare us?”

“No, not at all,” Laurel says, “We designed you specifically like this to avoid any comparisons, you need to be yourself for just one night.”

“I was in blue and silver, you’re in the clear, trust me.” you smile.

“And pink is definitely your color.” Finnick says, you elbow his ribs.

“I can’t believe you guys got done before Pleurisy.” Elysia says, “That’s a miracle.”

Finnick clears his throat, “You didn’t hear it from me, but apparently Paslee was acting like a diva.”

Elysia coughs, trying to hide her laugh. Alyssum presses her lips together, looking at the elevator. You and Finnick share two different looks, trying to get the other to lose it. Laurel shakes her head for a long while… until Cleo snorts and the hallway erupts into laughter.

Which is right on time for the door to open and Pleurisy to walk out, rolling her eyes, “Sorry we’re late.”

Paslee is the last out of the apartment, dressed in a gentle pink suit that has a white undershirt. He gives a smile to Alyssum, raising his eyebrows as if he’s impressed. With what she just heard, though, she can’t help but laugh.

“Let’s go,” Elysia says, pressing the button to the elevator.

They all crowd inside, being careful to conceal the two tributes in the middle of bodies, not wanting them to be the first people seen when the doors open. Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy lead them out just far enough for you and Finnick to say what you want to before the interviews.

“Okay,” you breathe, “I hope you two already realize that you’re mildly matching.”

“Yes,” Paslee says, Alyssum nods.

“No back-handed compliments to the Capitol,” Finnick starts, “they don’t like it, and neither would you two. Compliment them on something at least once during the interview if you can fit it in, don’t force it.”

“Tell the truth as much as you can, if you have to lie to keep things interesting, we’ll lie with you. The sky is your limit, just keep the boarding school out of it at all costs, we can’t let it get shut down.” You continue, “Keep in character, don’t go out of it. They know it’s a facade already, but they love pretending it’s real.”

“If you don’t like a question, let Caesar down gently. Be short, yet give enough information to make sure it satisfies and move onto another topic. He’ll never go back and bring it up again. He’ll likely split it up into three categories.” Finnick holds out his fingers, “The Capitol, family, and you. He’s going to stress on the last two because you’re siblings of tributes that have gone in before. You’re like an update, and the Capitol will eat it up.”

You smile, “If either of you get nervous, we’re in the crowd, and so are your stylists and prep teams. Find us if you need reassurance, but you have to look around, especially to the balconies. Don’t forget the people up there.”

It’s silent for a beat or two, and then Finnick’s lips are also turning upwards into a smile, “It’s only three minutes.”

Alyssum and Paslee are told to stand behind the District Three tributes, with Aly in front of him. Unlike the private training session, for the interviews, it’s ladies first. Which is good, because Alyssum doesn’t want to be shadowed by Paslee.

With tributes arriving slowly, she’s able to take in how the interviews are going to work. As soon as everyone is in line in the correct order, they’ll be brought outside to the stage, where Capitol citizens will be waiting in a large crowd, the most expensive of them will be on private balconies.

All tributes will be on stage for the interviews, just sitting on chairs behind Caesar while he goes through them one by one. Alyssum will have to be careful on how she reacts to tributes and what they’re saying, and be even more careful with her posture. 

The last pair of tributes arrive, and one-by-one they all get onto stage, heading toward their seats in the back. Alyssum is only on the bottom step, not even in sight of the Capitol just yet, and she can feel a sickness sprout in her throat, a headache beginning at the sight of all the bright lights.

Tonight is going to be miserable.

She steps on stage, and offers the crowd a shy smile. In a small glimpse she’s able to see that they’re all standing, none of them are sitting. All streets leading up to the City Circle are packed with brightly colored people dressed in various styles. She notes that not all balconies are occupied by the expensive Capitol people, but Gamemakers and cameras instead. It doesn’t ease her nerves at all.

She takes her seat in the white chair, making sure to cross her legs and sitting as straight as possible. Paslee, who’s sitting to her left, readjusts to do the same. The two of them whisper quietly about how everyone back home is watching. District Four is waiting eagerly to see what you and Finnick have cooked up this year. She hopes they’re satisfied.

Caesar bounces on stage as soon as his cue is given, the crowd roars, clapping and cheering for him. This year, his hair is a light blue, and so is the gloss on his lips. He wears a matching midnight blue suit that twinkles like stars with how many light bulbs are attached to it.

He makes sure that the audience is in a light mood by cracking a few jokes, and quickly introduces Glimmer before they have a chance to retreat. Alyssum stares blankly, watching as each career comes and goes, how they’re acting in front of the Capitol, how Alyssum can replicate it when it finally comes to be her turn.

It’s all very light on her end, figuring that she’ll be able to be gentle with the aloof idea. Then Clove finishes her interview, and gives Alyssum a certain look on the way back to her chair, and suddenly the competition has started. She can’t help the smirk that curls onto her face.

As soon as the District Three boy sits, Alyssum prepares to stand.

“May I introduce District Four’s very own Alyssum Gallows?” Caesar asks slyly, motioning back with his hand. The Capitol’s cheers are loud, almost deafening.

Alyssum gets to her feet, forcing the smile to hide. She has to look indifferent, or else the aloof idea won’t work. She stands tall, and walks carefully to the center stage. Reed and Mox are back home, on the edge of their seats, she can just feel it. You have told your story to the boarding school a thousand times, you were sweet during your interviews.

Now it’s Alyssum’s turn to be the opposite.

As soon as she stops in front of Caesar, grabbing his hand for the handshake, the three minutes have begun. It’s her time to be memorable, and she needs to fight to be seen as one of the careers, even if she won’t be joining them. She’s got the personality for it.

“Alyssum!” Caesar gasps, as if she’s an old friend, “You’re all grown up!”

She raises her eyebrows, looking out to the crowd, “Of course I am, it’s been nine years since you saw me last.”

“Nine years?” He asks incredulously, face twisted in mock horror, “The years aren’t showing, are they folks?”

The crowd shouts back at him, some clapping, others cheering. He lets out a laugh after a moment, waving off the idea that he could ever get old. That’s exactly why they have plastic surgery here. Alyssum almost didn’t believe it when you told her that Caesar has been hosting the Hunger Games for more than forty years.

“That dress is very eye-catching.” Caesar says, “I can’t even pinpoint what color it is!” He laughs.

“That’s because it’s not just one color,” she says as if it’s obvious, “Laurel, my stylist, went with a lenticular design.”

To prove what she said, she moves from side to side, allowing the crowd to see what Caesar means. With all the artificial lighting now that the sun’s down, it gives them the perfect opportunity to see. The crowd cheers, there’s a few stray whistles.

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Caesar awes, “And the bottom half, is it supposed to resemble a flower?”

“Yes, everything on me is flowery.” she hesitates, and then begins slowly, “Actually, it’s supposed to represent the innocence that the Capitol is taking away from me by forcing me to go inside of an arena as a punishment for a problem I didn’t even cause.”

And before the tension can settle, she flashes a smile and forces out a laugh, which Caesar reluctantly joins. Her eyes find you and Finnick in the crowd, you make a pinching motion with your fingers, probably telling her to tone it down. The problem is that she doesn’t want to.

“Well, for such an innocent girl, you scored so high.” He says, trying to move on.

“It runs in the family.”

“I can tell! Does it have anything to do with a special skill?” He asks, a hush seems to fall over the audience, eager to hear this part.

As if she’ll ever give it away, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Oh! I was afraid you’d say that!” He laughs, and looks at the crowd, “I know for sure that people have been on the edge of their seats wanting to know.”

“My only hint is that it relates to my sister in an aspect,” her eyes cast upwards, towards one of the balconies, “Doesn’t it?”

There’s a couple of quick nods coming from the Gamemakers, they know what she’s talking about, “Yes!” one of them shouts.

“A resemblance! As if we don’t have enough of those already!” and then he slows for a moment, “Speaking of which, I have to ask, at the reaping, was the gold dress intentional?”

Alyssum shakes her head, “No, just an unfortunate coincidence.”

There’s a few shouts of agreement, “Yes, I do think so too. I hope it ends up bringing luck in the end. What do you think your brothers thought of it?”

“They probably hated it, watching the youngest get reaped, especially since they’re absolutely helpless in the process. I’m sure that they won’t be wearing gold for generations to come.”

“I think that would be a wise choice,” Caesar agrees, “When you said goodbye, how was it?”

“Hard. They gave me an old necklace that belonged to mom and then made me promise something.” Alyssum can feel her time coming to an end, thankfully, she doesn’t think she can pretend any longer.

“And what did they make you promise?” Caesar asks, a hush falls in the air again.

It’s a lie, but they’ll never know, none of them will ever know. She looks out to the crowd, finding you and Finnick, “To win at all costs.”

The buzzer sounds, Alyssum can feel the relief hit her instantly. The crowd is cheering loudly, clapping, whistling, stomping. She can hardly hear herself think, eyes darting to the nearest camera. She hopes that this performance was good enough for everyone back home. Even if the promise wasn’t actually made, she’s going to bring it to life as best as possible.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Alyssum Gallows from District Four! It was a pleasure talking to you again, Alyssum. I wish you luck on your promise.” Caesar grins.

There has to be some sort of hatred that he’s hiding, because she nearly single handedly ruined the show. There were a hundred things she could have said after he commented on her dress, she just held it in. Not to mention, it definitely would’ve lost the favor of the Capitol.

Alyssum raises a hand to the crowd as a goodbye, and then makes her way back to her chair, ignoring the glares she’s getting from the rest of the careers. Paslee utters out a congratulations, she wishes him luck. He’s going to need it, at this rate she stole the entire show and she was only up there for three minutes. Even though it felt like an entire lifetime. 

Paslee is called up, and Alyssum spends the entire interview trying to figure out what his angle is. If she was aloof--although, she did get hostile at some moments--then what did he have to go with? It comes to her when he keeps making statements that end the same way, he’s being cocky.

She can’t blame you and Finnick for making him act like this, it’s a good word to go off of, especially since he’s been training inside of the boarding school for years now. He’s got all of the experience on lock, and so far she hasn’t seen him doubt himself once.

Caesar’s only a little surprised that he’s getting an attitude like this right after Alyssum, maybe he was hoping only one of them would be bad to deal with. It sucks to be him, she supposes, because the two of them are careers, whether they want to admit it or not. Age doesn’t matter.

She’s expected to be timid, he’s supposed to be loud. It’s nice being able to see their surprise up-close.

His interview ends with a flourish, she’s honestly bored watching every other tribute go after her. It hits a point where they all act the same, since they all scored in the low range and their mentors haven’t seen a victor for years. They’ve lost all originality and rely on old tricks to get them through.

It could be worse, though. They could be from District Twelve, which Alyssum perks back up at, hoping for something good. Katniss gets through her interview, and Aly isn’t surprised when she says she promised her younger sister that she’d win. Her buzzer goes off, it’s Peeta’s turn.

It isn’t until the very end of his interview, does he take the spotlight right from Alyssum, and place it back on them again. She was sure with her attitude that it would be unbeatable, but there’s nothing better than a live love confession in the Capitol. Even she can hear Paslee curse under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Peeta’s in love with Katniss.

She’s glad when the interviews end and she’s able to stand on her feet again. The anthem plays, she raises her head as required, impatient to get off the stage. Once it’s finally over, everyone files into a line, starting with District One, and walks off stage and to the lobby.

Alyssum lets out the biggest sigh as soon as she’s out of sight, curling her hands into fists as she and Paslee go to search for you and Finnick in the sea of bodies. There’s a possibility that it wasn’t intentional, after all, Caesar had led up to that question. Doesn’t mean that he’s to blame for it, though.

“What a waste.” Paslee murmurs, walking beside Alyssum.

“Tell me about it.”

With every passing second, the lobby becomes an even worse nightmare. The two of them end up agreeing on just taking an elevator up to their floor, instead of waiting for their people. Just before Alyssum steps into the elevator with Paslee, she realizes who’s standing inside of it.

It consists of the entire band of careers, she backs off and moves onto the elevator next to it, and finds that it’s not much better. Peeta stands in this one, and it’s packed full with a bunch of other tributes. She sucks it up, presses the Four button, and then picks a wall to stand by until it’s her turn to get off.

Thankfully, it only stops once before hers, letting off the girl from Three. When the doors open again, she slips around people to get out. Paslee is waiting for her in the hallway, together they go inside of the apartment. They’re the first to arrive, which isn’t a big surprise. There’s a lot of people that need to be transferred.

“Quite an interview you had,” Paslee says, probably not wanting to wait in silence.

“I can say the same for you.”

“I’m not sure passive-aggressive was the way to go.”

She looks at him, “Who cares? They’ve probably forgotten about me already.”

The door opens, and one by one, does everyone file in. Instantly, congratulations are falling on the two of them. Briefly, you and Finnick pull her aside to talk about why she went off track, and explain to her that she wasn’t supposed to verbalize the anger, just show it through body language. She’s lucky that she changed her attitude by the end, because that saved her.

Kind of.

With the exception of the prep team, everyone sits at the table for dinner, which is a little more elegant than it was these past couple of nights. The Capitol’s food is always delicious, but tonight is a special occasion. It’s their last night in the Capitol, as tomorrow morning they’ll both be at the arena before ten.

Laurel and Pleurisy keep conversation going by giving out their opinions and who would’ve interested them personally if they weren’t stylists. They end up admitting that Katniss and Peeta have, once again, outshone them all, which is something that Alyssum already figured out. 

She should probably invest a couple of days into looking for either Katniss or Peeta inside of the arena. Even if the two of them aren’t allies, having one of them as her backup is going to be better than no one. Besides, she can’t even entertain the idea of joining the careers.

Of course, that means she’s going to have to get over her growing irritation for the both of them. 

They bring Alyssum and Paslee into the living room so that they can watch a recap of the interviews. She has to admit that it’s very different seeing them from the front than the back or on the television screens provided. Whenever a tribute looks at a certain camera, it’ll flip to that perspective.

She can hardly stomach watching Peeta confess his love again, but she’s happy to see that she’s not the only tribute that reacted negatively--with the exception of Katniss, who was bright red. It makes her realize that there’s a problem with wanting to team up with either of them, Katniss especially.

With all of the attention they’ve been getting lately, the careers are probably seeing them as a threat. If she goes out of her way to find them and it turns out that the careers are hunting them, she’ll be screwed. And the careers will have a field day because they’ll have two tributes they want to kill, right next to each other.

Maybe she needs to do some rethinking.

Elysia is the first to say her goodbyes, hugging Paslee first, but holds onto Alyssum the longest. When she pulls away, there’s tears in her eyes. She wishes the two of them luck, since they won’t be seeing her again after tonight, and then leaves immediately to have a breather.

You and Finnick give them a smile. She can’t imagine what you’re thinking right now, how you might want to react. Alyssum begins to wish that she had spent more time with you in between events, even if that meant she’d be exhausted everyday. It would’ve been better than the guilt that’s settling in her chest.

“Aly, stay out of the cornucopia.” You start, “I don’t care what the reason behind going might be, run in the other direction.”

Alyssum nods.

Finnick looks over at Paslee, “Watch your back, there’s going to be a dozen people in the bloodbath at that moment. You don’t know who’s watching you or what their plans are. Also, don’t go too deep inside, you’ll trap yourself. Wait until you’re absolutely sure that it’s over.”

“Finding water should be both of your guys’ priority. And use common sense inside of the arena, please.” you give them a gentle smile, “No matter what happens, we have your back, remember that.”

“Thank you,” Paslee says.

“Go rest, you’ll be getting up early tomorrow morning.” Finnick says.

Paslee nods, heading up the steps. Alyssum doesn’t move from where she stands, staring up at you and Finnick. The longer the silence settles, the more tears fill her own eyes. She’ll be on her own starting tomorrow morning, and she doesn’t even know what to do. Did she even make progress?

“Come here,” you open your arms for her.

She doesn’t hesitate, crying into your dress.

Alyssum doesn’t want to go.

--

BERCEUSE IS A SPIN-OFF //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

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[missinghan]

night changes (2) ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : rich kid!au

❖ word count : 21k.

❖ warning : explicit language & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : fate decides to backfire when you try to pull the son of the Senator in as a barrier between your life and Bang Chan.

❖ a/n : read pt.1 beforehand to understand the story better, I’m too tired to proofread this after the nth time, please don’t @ me.

one. The only reason why your mom persuaded Jeongin to move after when you moved in with your dad was college being practically thirty minutes away from the place. And also because of the rent. You feel bad for your brother mainly since the walls there are awfully thin and the girl next door always seems to have someone over every other night. They aren’t exactly trying to be subtle either. Sometimes you wonder how the fuck can he study for finals when the noise pollution can’t get any worse but he still manages to hit straight A-s.

On the other hand, you and Felix never have to worry about things such as students’ loans or college tuition. Every single penny was paid, as well as every other necessity in life. But you feel like nothing but a filler or a mannequin whenever you dad demands for intimate parties where you’re forced to sit still and look pretty when he’s too busy talking business with the other families. You’re just simply there, in his circle of status. Even when you’re all dressed up in designers’ clothes and whatnots, you still feel so out of place, sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Felix rolls his eyes dramatically when you pull up right in front of a rather ugly tree, scowling hard. “And you’re seriously taking your Rover today? Where did all of your standards go?” He glances sideways and sees a black Mercedes right in front of your car but shrugs it off shortly after.

“Hey! You take that back! She’s my baby! And also, it’s not gonna freak Jeongin out as much as your Tesla would,” you chuckle and punch his arm, earning a wholehearted laugh in return. Despite being born in a well off family, your stepbrother isn’t as much of an asshole as you’re expecting him to be. He’s pretty down to earth and acts like every other college kid that you’ve met with a questionable obsession with Fortnite. Except he loves to shove all the logos of luxurious brands into people’s faces who keep pissing him off, making him that much more intimidating.

“Wait here or stay there, pick your poison,” you tell him before grabbing your key and exit the car.

Felix mumbles something along the lines of ‘don’t be so rude’ and trails after you. He flutters his eyes upwards to take a closer look at the apartment complex before him. It’s quite small but seems very cozy. He wonders if it does feel less isolating and cold when there isn’t so much extra space around him all the time. “Hurry up, Lix! Jeongin gotta run to class in three hours.” With that, he hastily follows you up a narrow, rusty flight of stairs, the place reeks off the smell his dad always despises. He calls it ‘the subway smell’.

When your hand is hovering over the wooden door, it suddenly swings open, revealing an impossibly handsome guy. Chestnut brown hair, midnight orbs, tall nose, and peachy lips. He has you completely frozen for a good five seconds before you snap out of it, raising an eyebrow. Since when did Jeongin have hot guys as his roommates? And since when did your mom even allow him to have roommates? “Uhm sorry, you are..?”

The stranger smiles, perfectly showcasing his white. That’s your weak spot too. You’re a complete sucker for guys with cute smiles. “I’m Jaemin, and uh, my friend asked me to come over and help him with an upcoming exam.” You subconsciously stare at his outfits for a while, seeing no signs of any designers’ pieces. But his posture screams mad confidence, straight back, always maintaining eye contact, like he’s been raised in a wealthy family just like Felix. You can’t help but automatically judge people for what they wear, it’s been drilled into your mindset at some point and you hate yourself for that.

“Hello? Are you okay?” He waves his hand when you stay unresponsive. He partially thinks that you’re mentally judging him for acting like a weirdo.

You laugh nervously, completely oblivious of how Felix is facepalming himself behind your back. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m here to look for my brother.”

“Brother who?” Jaemin narrows his eyes at you skeptically.

“Yang Jeongin? Ring any bell?”

“What? Jeongin never told me he had a sis—“ his gasp is cut off midway when a hand flies to his mouth out of nowhere and pulls him backward. Your brother pokes his head out from behind Jaemin and smiles sheepishly. You can’t help but notice how different his smile is. Oh…where are his braces?

Jeongin says flatly, “Hey, sis, long time no see.” Then he scratches the nape of his neck, unsure of what to say. “Uhm, so what are you doing here?” It’s really been a while since you last saw him. Your dad can’t really do anything because your mom had full custody of raising him and he wanted to stay with her either way. He said he wouldn’t feel like he belongs if he dares to take a single footstep into his billion dollars mansion. Sometimes it feels like you’re just two strangers with the same blood coursing through your veins, family in name, but not in fact. But to be fair, you don’t even have the same last name as him.

“Where’s mom?” You avoid his question before stepping into the studio apartment completely. The last time you were here was when you’re still a freshman in college, you believe. And now all you can do is stand there in awe.

There was nothing but cardboard boxes scattered everywhere, dirty dishes piling up day by day, chipping wallpapers and a crusty old couch that the previous owner left behind as a result of your heartbroken mom. It used to make you grimace but holy shit, mom really did pull herself together. The place is freshly renovated, the smell of new paint is still evident, a teal couch, wooden cabinets, clean kitchen, bathroom on the left along with a brand new TV. Although it’s not the newest model of any sort, you can see how far your mom has come. She worked hard for your brother, and it’s definitely paying off.

Jeongin whispers something into Jaemin’s ears and pushes him out the front door, leaving a very shocked-looking Felix as a witness. “She’s at work,” he states the obvious monotonously.

“Oh,” you chuckle to yourself and let your fingers dance along the kitchen aisle. “Silly me. Anyway, when did you have your braces off? Last week?”

“It’s been a lot longer than that, Y/N. The last time you saw me was Woojin’s wedding.” He massages the side of his temple, sighing heavily. And your heart sinks, a pang of guilt always seems to be inevitable whenever you come over to visit him. Even when it’s only once or twice a year, you could never move on with life without knowing how he’s doing. You tried. “What are you doing here?”

You cut to the chase, “Dad wants you to come and join his party at the hotel this weekend. Nothing major, just another event as an excuse for him to make more money. And also he said he wanted to see you.”

“As if he needs any more money,” your brother sneers. “And he wanted to see me? Don’t be ridiculous. The old man probably wants me there to humiliate the shit out of me so that I’ll stay away from him and his precious jewels.” You perk a brow at what he’s referring you and Felix to, “I’m not gonna be there and smile through the whole thing. I don’t even own a tuxedo for fuck’s sake! Those people aren’t just rich, they’re crazy rich. They’re snoshy, and loud, and act all elegant with thousands of dollars draped over their bodies—“

Felix makes a face, “Snoshy?”

“Posh and snobby.”

“Are you coming for my accent?”

“I dare not.”

He laughs and swings an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders. “Good move, kid. Now get in the car, loser, we’re going shopping.”

The younger boy scrunches his nose in disgust, shoving your stepbrother away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t make me put you in timeout.”

two. Jeongin feels like he’s sitting on a pile of burning coal instead of the espresso-colored velvet couch in the middle of a Tom Ford store. Soft white light slipping through the ceiling, walls embedded with mirrors all around and closets that are probably made with the finest kinds of wood. Even the fake pot of flowers on the glass coffee table in front of him looks more expensive than everything he owns combined. While he’s receiving dirty looks from some of the staff, Felix on the other hand, is too busy skimming through the watches and ties displayed inside the see-through cabinets.

Being humiliated just because he doesn’t dress like ‘your people’ makes him wanna bust through the door and stay at home for three consecutive days. People already disrespected him in a clothing store, what will happen if he attends that stupid intimate party? He’s not gonna fit into the social circle just because he’s wearing some designers’ pieces because that’s not who he is.

“Wrap those up for me,” you voice, face stoic of any emotions.

A staff at the checkout nervously laces her fingers together, a bead of sweat unknowingly rolls down on her temple. “Miss Lee! Having you buy our newest collection is more than we can ever afford, I’ll make sure to contact our superior to let you—“

“To let me fire you?” You cut her off, voice soft and stern at the same time. “Oh please, don’t bother,” the staff almost jumps back when you place one of your hands on hers, your rings cold against her burning skin as shivers run down her spine. “Minho will take good care of you, I guarantee.”

Jeongin groans in pure frustration when you wave at him, smiling in your luxurious glory when he’s sitting inside a high-end store like an absolute idiot. “Tom Ford? What is wrong with you people?” Felix glares at him and he immediately puts his hands up in defense. “Right, sorry. But would you mind and just strangle me right here right now so that I won’t make a grave mistake by putting that on? Can’t I just wear the tux that I had on Woojin’s wedding?” You bringing Felix along had already suffocated him enough when he literally lives and breathes in Gucci. Jeongin is not a fan of the tiger on his bomber jacket either.

“Eh..it’s a little dated, wouldn’t hurt to buy a new one. And did you really think that your sister’s gonna let you pay by yourself? How innocent,” Felix puts an arm over his shoulders when he refers to the brand new suit jacket, dress shirt and slacks on the marble counter. All that for more than ten thousand dollars, so… he’s gonna need more than ten years to pay you back. “Also, did you know that your sister is scary when someone pisses her off?” He whispers under his breath, slightly scared that you’re gonna catch his words.

“You’re wasting my time,” you hand your credit card over to the other staff, in which he receives with shaking hands. “Get yourself clean up and pack your bags, I’m sure a professional like you would have no problem landing another job like this.”

Jeongin almost gawks at how you’re giving ten thousand dollars away like you’re simply buying a burger at McDonald’s. He even feels bad for the staff who’s on the verge of breaking down, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. She did treat him like he was trying to rob the place but having her fired is far too harsh. Now he knows why he should never be on your bad side. “I think I do now.” He swallows thickly with two hands on his knees, the muscles on his back tense.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, we—“

You smile coldly, “That’s enough, I believe you all can reconsider your own behaviors towards customers. All of your customers.”

“Yep,” Felix catches the jet black Tom Ford bag when you walk past the couch, seemingly busy talking on the phone with Minho. “Iced cold motherfucker.”

Then, an unfamiliar figure enters the store the moment you walk out the door. Felix and Jeongin also pass by her without a second look even when they both accidentally catch some parts of her conversation with the staff. Fuzzily. So he doesn’t bother to think too much about it. “Good afternoon, ma’am, how can we help you?”

“I’m here to pick up a tuxedo for my boyfriend,” the girl takes off her sunglasses and grins, a smile that can take the breath right out of anyone.

The staff returns her smile and taps away on the iPad while the others are escorting the crying woman into the bathroom. “May we have the name please?”

Felix tosses the bag into the car trunk as soon as you start the engine, hurrying to the backseats after. Jeongin has his arms crossed in front of his chest in the passenger’s seat, no words can describe how frustrated, and mad, and partially relieved he feels right now all at once. All will be revealed in the next episode of how his sister fucks up every relationship he’s ever made, stay tuned folks!

“I was having a migraine just by seeing you handing out one of your five other credit cards. And firing her too? Aren’t you being too harsh? Couldn’t you spare her any sense of kindness at least?”

You laugh monotonously, “There are way worse things that could have happened to her. Trust me, you don’t wanna know what ‘my people’ can do.” This isn’t the first time you’ve seen some self excessively conceited staff who judges people by their social background. And now they had the audacity to insult your brother? Being fired is the only sense of kindness that you can give them for today.

“Great, now I’m gonna have to pay the old man back.”

You carefully take a turn and almost snort at your brother’s pointless concern. “That was my money, in my own defense. I don’t live off dad’s pennies anymore.” Even if it was your dad’s money, he would never make his biological son pay for what he can’t even afford. That’s like…asking a vegetarian why they want to bring down the mood of a BBQ party.

Jeongin replies flatly, looking out the window in boredom. “Huh, funny. Last time I checked, you said you were working at his hotel. Who’s the big boss there? Where does all the money come from? Him. Same thing.”

“Are you familiar with the triggers of migraines?” Felix abruptly places a hand on Jeongin’s shoulders, almost giving him a heart attack.

Jeongin doesn’t know much about migraines but he does know that your stepbrother is high-key a weirdo who just happens to be born with a butt load of money. “Uh…no?” If he happens to live in the same home with this idiot, he’s gonna go insane in a minimum of twenty-four hours. No doubt.

Felix excitedly laces his hand together and you mentally facepalm yourself. You’re so over his discussion about stuff like this because you know damn well he’s just trying to take it out on people after being stuck in med school for two years. He’s convinced that he’s gonna kill people instead of curing them so his mom gave him the consent to drop out to prolong the family’s legacy. “Here are some of them so that you know what not to do; from most likely to least likely: emotional stress, hormone, not eating, the fucking weather, sleep disturbances, certain odors, neck pain, alcohol, bright lights, smoke, certain foods, exercise, sexual activities, etc.”

“Sexual activities? Like a hangover after getting laid?” Jeongin asks.

“No, like just sex itself but it’s not supposed to happen that often so don’t worry too much about that.”

You automatically grit, feeling the need to bleach your ears after this. “Do not encourage him.”

“Hey! This is for educational purposes! Besides, it’s not like he’s still a little boy or whatever, he’s an adult now. #LifeCoachingWithLeeYongbok.” Felix takes no time to defend himself. “Now, I wish I could lecture you about the hypothalamus and give you a long-winded explanation of the science behind it, but Imma spare you for today.” Even if it were possible for you to sew his lips together, there’s no doubt that those unnecessarily inappropriate words would still find their ways to crawl out of his mouth and potentially mess up your little brother’s entire existence.

You let out a humorless chuckle, one that yells ‘hey, stop before you fucked it up for the rest of us’. “I’d hate to poke your enormous ego, but whoever attends your classes is gonna have their life crumbling right in front of their eyes.”

Felix simpers at your attempt of a clapback. “Actually no, people who attend my classes drastically turn their life around because they know what not to do. If you think about it, all of my advice to you has been great. I just don’t practice what I preach,” he tuts in that deepass voice of his, not noticing how Jeongin’s face is morphing into a very disgusted expression. “Just one more shot, I’ll be fine. I can quit whenever I want. I’m not addicted,” he mocks one of his friends who can’t stop drinking for their own good. “No, you won’t you lying bitch. An example of someone who followed that sentiment is right in front of you.”

He fairly believes that he can become the youngest professor to be teaching at a college or university with a Ph.D. in the ‘Getting your shit together’ Department.

But in your eyes, these are just some of the side effects that he got from hanging out with Minho so much. Being bitchy and all. If anything, Minho should be the one who takes his spot and becomes the youngest staff for big places like Harvard or Oxford. And you’d love to continue this nonsense of an argument but you’re already pissed off by that staff previously so you should just let him win or your dad’s gonna find you three ending up in the E.R.

“So this is what I get for setting you up with Chan,” Jeongin crosses his arms and you glance at him sideways, staying silent for the rest of the drive home.

three. Chan dreads the packing process after a long tremendously because not only does he have to trust his idiotic friends to not damage his luggage, he also has to help them pack since they are literal children. Changbin’s butler straight up shakes his head when Chan FaceTimed him, asking about how he usually helps him with preparation for a trip. He really hopes his family pays the man good money because dealing with Changbin’s impulsive, indecisive ass sounds extremely exhausting, and burdensome as well.

“Which one?” Changbin refers to a dozen of black tuxedos hanging inside the dressing room, and Chan feels like his brain’s about to retire.

He exclaims in frustration, “THEY’RE ALL BLACK FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

“No you uneducated moron,” Changbin purses his lips, “There’s carbon black, raisin black, olive black, super black, coal-black,..which one’s sexy enough for me to snatch myself a date at the party?”

“Seo Changbin!”

Chan’s been so sensitive these days, to the point that he decided to whack a mosquito with his MacBook the other day. He did miss the mosquito, but also, he almost killed Jisung who’s taking a nap right beside him in the studio. And apparently, Han Jisung holds grudges. Hence, there’s no way in hell is he gonna help Chan in the ‘Getting Seo Changbin aka the snobby brat the perfect tuxedo’ Operation. It would be way easier if Jisung was here.

Changbin interjects his trains of thoughts, “Silk or wool?”

“Uh- silk.”

“The Gabardine one or the smoking jacket?”

Chan makes a face, “Smoking jacket?” Whatever that means. He didn’t like the shoulder pads on the other one anyway.

“You heard him, Park, go get that ish and wrap it up! Go go go!” Changbin pauses for a second, “Wait, no, actually…just take them both.”

Call him delusional, but in the span of ten seconds, Chan fully believes he’s already entered (or has been pushed into) the Panamera 4 E-Hybrid that’s waiting outside of the mall. Jisung’s sitting in the passenger’s seat, honking the car repeatedly while the Seo family’s chauffeur is constantly throwing daggers at him with his eyes. Now he’s starting to question if bringing Jisung to the mall would be the wisest decision.

“What’s with the grumpy face, grandpa?” He chimes unhelpfully with a pout on his face. And now all Chan wants to do is to deck his perfect teeth and knock upside his head. “You really need to lighten up, old man, you’re going home!” He groans dramatically, arms crossed like a three-year-old.

“Yeah, going home,” Chan says with expressive hands. “To put on a goddamn show for my grandparents so that they won’t have a heart attack knowing that I can’t give two fucks about their promise with some random family in the same circle.” He’s on the verge of breaking down just thinking about going hand in hand in public with another woman that’s not you. It makes him sick to the stomach more knowing that he’s been hiding everything from you.

He’s such an asshole for doing this to you. Avoiding your calls and texts every other day becomes almost all too unbearable for his shoulders. Instead, he’s been trying to leave you voicemails every other week but it seems like you’ve already despised him. The night of Woojin’s wedding comes crashing down on him as he takes a stroll down memory lane. He might as well be cursed because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to have you in his arms again. The saying: “out of sight, out of mind” works for some people as an excuse to forget someone but truth is, he still misses you, all the time, every second, every minute, every hour, every day.

“So you didn’t tell her?” Changbin perks a dark brow.

“Not yet…”

“You should though,”

Chan barks, “I know! She just won’t answer my voicemails,”

“Then call her you coward!” Changbin immediately barks back, fingers still tapping away on his phone, “Look, if Y/N was your date in the first place, you would be crazy giddy and all right now, and not the nervous kind of giddy, but like the exciting kind of giddy. You are so loopy in love with her it makes me wanna feed my eyeballs to my dad’s German Shepherd whenever you’re FaceTiming her,”

Chan’s been clenching his jaw for God knows how long, and now it’s starting to ache. “Don’t say that, she probably hates me. Like you said, I’m a coward. I don’t deserve her and she doesn’t deserve this. Falling for Y/N was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. All I’ve been doing is tearing us apart. Sometimes I wish I didn’t fall for her—“

“—listen up, you genius. If falling for Y/N is a sin then so be it. Because being in love with her is gonna be the best fucking mistake you’ve ever made in your twenty-three years of existing,” Changbin’s words start zeroing in on Chan, so when he opens his mouth to say something, it automatically snaps closed. “I’ve never seen your eyes do that thing where they sparkle whenever we mention her name or when you’re just simply giggling to yourself while texting her. And have you seen the way that she looks at you? She looks at you like you’re the only person to exist on this planet, like someone she’s ever truly loved more than herself.”

Chan drops his gaze from Changbin to his knees, his heart beating rapidly at the sound of your name. Goddamn, he really misses you. “It’s okay, Bin, even if she hates me. I can—“

Changbin interjects immediately, gripping onto his friend’s shoulders tightly and stares into his tired eyes. “Don’t fucking tell me that it’s okay because I saw you alone in the studio every night. You were crying like a baby!” Seo Changbin gives really good advice because pushing people to their limits, not crossing them, just dangling at the edge so that they can’t stop acting like a loser and get their shit together is what he does for a living. Without getting paid a single penny.

“It’s because I’m losing her! I did that to myself!” Chan shudders at his own words, shaking his head profusely to hold back his tears. The idea of losing you sounds so terrifyingly panic-stricken that he would rather lose anything else than not have you in his life, or just not having you at all in the first place. Chan was an idiot for kissing you that night but something deep down still tells him that “screw life, you said what you said and you did what you did, now go out there and get her back before she falls into someone else’s arms”.

Changbin corrects him, pinpointing his words. “You’re losing her, you didn’t lose her yet. You still have an opportunity to make it up to her.” He knows Chan long enough to know that his friend doesn’t easily wear his feelings on his sleeves, mainly because he’s the eldest in 3RACHA. If he falls, the group’s gonna fall with him. But today, seeing the pool of tears in his eyes, the raw emotions in his voice makes Changbin believe that he’s senselessly, wildly in love with you. He knows damn well that Chan would never let you slip away again.

“This is your chance, to prove to Y/N that you’re still the goofy, caring, dumbass Bang Chan that she has already fallen in love with, not only once, but twice.”

four. “Have you been hearing anything from Chan? He hasn’t called me for two months. Changbin and Jisung have been avoiding me like the plague too.” Woojin asks you with a questionable looking drink in his hand. Minho said he mixed the masterpiece with all of his blood, sweat, and tears. You don’t know how to take it, metaphorically, or literally because both options would make sense. You’re just fairly concerned for Woojin’s liver since he’s been attending too many parties, mainly for business but still, that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna stay away from alcohol.

So much for adulting.

“Not really,” you didn’t want to admit that Chan was ignoring your texts and calls before but it’s quite obvious now that he doesn’t want to talk to you. You didn’t think about it much at the beginning because everything must have been so hard for him in a foreign country where young talents are out there competing with each other like they’re in The Hunger Games. But daily conversations turned into weekly, and then monthly and then basically non-existent. No more ‘Good morning’, no more ‘How was your day?’, no more ‘I miss you’. None of that.

The kiss that day seems like it’s disintegrated into literal dust.

‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ sounds like utter bullshit now and you’ve never felt so foolish for saying ‘I love you’ to someone you truly believe won’t take your heart and crush it. But Chan did just that. You spent lots of sleepless nights thinking, and bawling your eyes out. You felt so lost and tremendously hurt. You didn’t know what to do. But you soon figured that it’s okay, people aren’t supposed to know what to do in those kinds of situations. You just gotta figure it out by yourself. So wherever he may be, whatever he’s doing, you still hope that he’s happy. That’s all that matters.

Or maybe you’re just too tired to reach out to him again.

You reply with a lifeless smile, bracing yourself for the upcoming party that’s starting in less than an hour. “He hardly talks to me. He doesn’t even text me in full sentences anymore.” You shrug it off casually, ignoring the sound of your heart aching to focus on other stuff for the time being. “Maybe he’s just busy? You know how problematic the music industry is.”

“Being busy isn’t an excuse to ignore your loved ones, Y/N,” Woojin knits his brows together. “Mind you, I still come home to my wife at nine o’clock, every single day.”

You check the time and almost panic, but before you can form a proper sentence, someone’s already dragged you away from the scene, “Look after Jeongin for me! Got it?” You yell back at him only to receive a thumbs up with a grimace. Woojin is the CEO of a well-known IT firm, after all, no one’s gonna mess with Jeongin if he stays by his side. The last thing you want is your brother coming home sobbing his heart out just because some wonderbread doesn’t know when to keep their mouth shut.

“I’m like..” You trail off while tapping away on your phone. “—pretty much free tomorrow morning, right?”

Chaeyoung - your assistant frowns and stops you midway, smoothing out your baby hair. “Not quite, you can’t skip DBR at seven,” she asserts. “And the daily phone call with your dad- I mean, the CEO at half-past six as well.” It’s obvious that everyone wants a coffee in the morning and since it’s a common time to gather, it seems like DBR (or Daily Business Review) is a good idea to just have a meeting before the day starts. The rules are simple. The meeting can not last more than half an hour and to make sure, you all stand up. You talk about the night before, VIPs coming in, the forecast for the coming day and any common issues to the group. Then you all dismiss and go to work. This way, everyone is on the same page 24/7.

“Oh, and a meeting at three too, and also the Kims Are coming in fifteen minutes.” She checks her watch subconsciously and it reads [7:30p.m.]

“Right, right,” you close your eyes for a moment and let the information sink in, slightly taken aback by yourself that you forgot Jennie’s coming back from New Zealand. The party won’t start until eight, you can still spare fifteen minutes and chat with your friend before being pulled away into utterly unnecessary conversations. “I can’t believe I almost forgot Jen’s visiting us…” You murmur under your breath, “God, Chaeng, what would I do without you?”

Chaeyoung pushes your shoulder playfully, “You’d die, obviously.” She’s not necessarily wrong because if it weren’t for her to manage your shitty schedule, your life would become a fucking merry-go-round which makes you all nauseous and dizzy. As if you’re not being tossed around and fucked up enough.

“Hypothetically speaking, I can just hire another assistant and move on with my life,” you smile cheekily.

She follows you towards the front desk, where Lisa is too busy texting someone cute to focus on her main task: greeting people that she despises with her entire existence. “Well, hypothetically speaking, no one can replace me and you would never have the heart to do that anyway.” Again, you hate it when she’s right. And she’s always right. Because she’s Park Chaeyoung.

You put your phone away finally and ask her about your beige suit with matching high-waisted slacks. “How do I look?” Also, you’re never wearing heels again because you’ve learned not to torment your precious feet when you’re gonna be out and about, being dragged around like a rag doll. Woojin’s wedding taught you that.

Chaeyoung gives you the warmest smile, “Like a boss bitch,”

“You have to come with us to Bora Bora this summer! We just opened a summer resort there with a beach and spa services, it’s absolutely delightful! Very fitting for de-stressing, dare I say.”

“How convenient! Do you see these wrinkles? We were all exhausted after the flight from New York. And I’m stressing over how it’s impossible for my son to improve his English. How in the world is he gonna travel the world for business trips now?”

“Ew,” you automatically scrunch your nose at your stepmom’s conversation with the Senator’s wife. “If we’re gonna act like that when we’re their age, I’d rather jump off a cliff.” And Chaeyoung clears her throat awkwardly when she sees your mom waving you over, giving you a pat on your back. There goes your fifteen minutes of freedom.

You quickly fix the lapels of your blazer and muster a sickly sweet smile, just for the Senator’s wife. “Yes, mom?” Or in this case, ‘stepmom’ but you wouldn’t want it to be awkward for the both of them. She does treat you with nothing but kindness and generosity although you’re not her actual daughter.

“Honey,” you almost snort at the nickname. Honey is practically a bee’s vomit. So you don’t really see the point in calling people bee’s barf. Ain’t cool. “You must know that this is the Senator’s wife, she suggested that you and their son can perhaps—“

You cut her off sharply. “No,”

“Y/N, don’t be so rude,” she laughs nervously as the Senator’s wife wears an unreadable look on her face. As if she’s interested in your particular kind of demeanor like you’re a completely different species. She doesn’t seem to be mad or offended at all. “I’m sorry, you see, this girl can play hard to get from time to time…and—“

You elect to ignore every word that comes out of her mouth from this very moment. Not again with this bullshit. An arranged marriage is basically a living embodiment of your biggest nightmare. You can’t imagine being tied down to a person that you barely know just because of their social status or for the sake of mutual benefits. Not to mention, every guy in the circle is all the same anyway. Disrespectful, egotistical, and only show mild interest if the person they’re marrying at least has something to offer that’s related to cold, hard cash in the long run.

It feels like the world just stops spinning when you flutter your eyes upwards and make direct eye contact with him. He enters the front entrance in a full-on black tuxedo, black silk shirt tucked neatly into his pants, chestnut hair rather well-styled, and black dress shoes. The outfit looks like it was made for him, personally tailored to every detail of his body. You almost scowl and look away until you recognize that smile, those midnight orbs.

To your dismay, the Senator’s wife exclaims, “My goodness! I told him not to wear that specific shirt!” before excusing herself from the conversation.

“Uhm is that…”

“Oh yes! That’s their son, Jaemin. Felix used to go to the same kindergarten as him, I believe,” your stepmom explains calmly, watching how you’re slowly becoming interested in the Senator’s only son. So that explains the black Mercedes in front of Jeongin’s apartment. “He got sent to a private school in the UK after graduating from middle school but somehow, I don’t know how he still can’t speak fluently English. Maybe you can help—“

You quickly realize how fast the situation’s escalating and you must say, you’re not letting that happen. “Sorry mom, Jen’s here! I gotta go!” Learning to let Chan go is one thing, but getting yourself into an arranged marriage with another guy who cares about nothing but money is an absolutely torturous idea.

People change, they all do eventually. But sometimes they don’t. Certain things can never fluctuate despite the circumstances. For instance, Kim Jennie still pulls you into a bone-crushing hug like she always does the moment she spots you in the crowd. Her gummy smile didn’t change, her gestures, the way she walks with pride didn’t change and you highly doubt that she no longer sneaks cute boys into the house when her parents are conveniently abroad. But she definitely looks more mature the last time that you guys met in Paris.

“Wow, Jen,” you utter. “You look…good,” Tonight she’s wearing a white dress from Chanel, diamond earrings and bold red lipstick. And don’t even get you started on her ring, you’re pretty sure that it was a present from the brand themselves. She is the ambassador, after all, they would be more than happy to spoil her with their newest collections.

Jennie takes a look at your outfit, twirling you around before breaking into a fit of giggles. “Good? I look good? You look gorgeous! Look at you! Well, actually you look just fine in your PJs as well. Heck, you can even breathe in this thing, I can’t relate,” she beams and keeps on admiring you as if you’re her own life-sized Barbie doll. Baggy clothes can look good, she knows that now.

Jennie clings onto one of your arms and receives a glass of champagne from a waiter, smiling at him softly. “So, how are you enjoying the party, manager Lee?”

You threaten to spill alcohol on her fifteen thousand dollars dress but only proceed to roll your eyes because you value her money too much for the sake of being petty. “It’s kinda meh,” you make a face. “But you know, let’s just get it over with. And to be honest..I’m kind of sick of socializing with people that I don’t even like.”

“Oh really?” Jennie raises a brow curiously when she sees a certain someone in the midst of the chaotic party. “Someone seems to be interested in you though, that cutie over there…” She then motions towards the general direction of Na Jaemin, the person who you’ve been trying to avoid all night. “I think he fancies you. Been eyeing you up and down for the past ten minutes,”

Right, you also forgot that Jennie didn’t know about you and Chan.

“Actually—“

“My God! Did you see that? The Bangs are here!” She gasps and tries to tiptoe in order to get a closer look, allowing her heels to dig into her feet even more. You won’t blame her, the Bangs are basically the biggest developers in Korea. Real estate, investment, tons of things, tons of boring paperwork but you do respect them for what they do. “I heard their eldest son’s dating some up and coming artist, her exhibitions were quite successful, all big hits since last year. It’s mind-blowing!”

You pull your friend back in time when people are shoving each other before her white dress can be contaminated with the bubbly champagne. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to patch your lips together?”

“Damn, he looks fine,” your friend murmurs and has you roll your eyes for one too many times tonight already. “I’m not messing with you, look!” She grabs either side of your face and turns it sideways, towards the front entrance.

You feel like someone just kicked you to the curb and stepped on you, knocking the breath right out of your chest. It’s Chan, it’s really Chan. Navy tuxedo, brown hair styled neatly, he looks even more beautiful than the last time you’ve seen his face. Beside him, hand in hand is another girl. She has the most delicate features and probably the most angelic smile in this world. She’s looking at him all lovingly, the same look you gave him approximately a year ago when you thought that the kiss did mean something to him. Apparently, it didn’t. Now you feel like a paper bag being thrown away, forgotten in the corner, drifting through life like a haze.

Your heart is stuck in your throat, slowly crumbling into dust when you see how he smiles at her, the dimpled smile that you treasured with your entire heart. They look like they are meant to be. And yes, you wanted to see him again but not like this. It’s like karma’s trying to tell you that this is what you get for falling in love with Chan faster than a tick of a clock, for foolishly holding onto false hope. And your butt load of money doesn’t matter anymore because your everything is already being held in someone else’s arms.

Now you’re the one who’s left with a broken heart.

five. In the dead of the night, you no longer feel the sounds of your heart shattering into pieces. Chan’s just making it easier for you to forget him.

“Y/N?” You stay unresponsive at his voice calling out to you. Every cell, every muscle, every neuro inside your body is yelling at you to turn around and throw your arms around his neck. The willpower that you’re mustering to not do that right is impossibly terrifying. But you’re not giving in again, not this time. You won’t be able to piece your heart back together after a second heartbreak. “It’s been quite a while huh? Are you—“

You turn around with glossy eyes, tears threatening to spill any second. Chan’s words get caught dead in his throat upon seeing you on the verge of breaking down. It hurts more knowing that he’s the one who made you cry. “You should have told me..” Your voice cracks and it breaks Chan’s heart into a million pieces at how broken you are. “You should have told me if you wanted to cut it off sooner..” You smile bitterly with tears rolling down on either side of your cheek. You no longer care about how pathetic you may sound or look, you just want to be completely transparent with him.

Another thing that you hate about yourself: how you just let yourself go exposed and vulnerable right in front of his eyes. “What happened to ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’? Does our kiss that night mean nothing to you? Was I setting the bar too high? Was I…getting in your way?” You ask him between quiet sobs, not bothering to put on a fake smile anymore. You’re too exhausted for that anyway. “You didn’t even tell me..that you’re part of the Bangs family, like the Bangs family. What else are you hiding from me, Chan?”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders to hold you back firmly, eyes boarding into yours fiercely. His touch once made your heart weak, now you feel nothing but disgust when his fingertips graze past your clothed skin. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t understand— she’s not—“

“Y/N!”

Chan snaps his head towards the owner of the voice and grimaces when he sees Jaemin waving at you from the other side of the room. You gotta be shitting me. Chan then looks over at you in disbelief, eyes almost popping out of their respective sockets. Out of all people, you’re dating Na Jaemin? The Senator’s son? Without letting him know? And you’re accusing him of hiding things from you when you’re also with someone new already? “You know,” you wipe your tears away and look him dead in the eye. “I’ve always thought that all the guys in my dad’s social circle were a bunch of ignorant jerks, but it turns out you’re the asshole.”

With that, you briskly walk away with your phone clutched in your hands, knuckles turning white as you bite down your tears. Chan’s gaze trails after your figure until you’re completely gone, falling into another man’s arms like it’s your safe place. Jaemin caresses your cheekbone and smiles at you. You return it too, bitterly. It was supposed to be Chan who makes you feel like the happiest woman in this world, not the one who takes your heart and crushes it into pieces. His heart breaks, again, and again, and again, and again until he no longer feels its presence beating inside his rib cage. There’s something else more than just distance between the both of you now, something that was never there in the first place. Little did you know, you’re not the only one with a broken heart after all.

“Jaemin right?” You sniffle when he lures you away from the party, away from the chaos, away from Chan. “Thank you, I can manage myself now.”

Jaemin shakes his head and speaks to you softly. “Nonsense. I’m staying here with you. The party sucks, but don’t take it personally.”

You chuckle with teary eyes, but you’ve determined not to cry again tonight, especially not in front of the Senator’s son. “Does my brother know that his tutor is the son of the Senator?” Jaemin shakes his head again, the warm smile never once leaves his lips. He gently wipes a single tear that unknowingly rolls down on your cheek and heat flares through your nostrils, a shade of coral scattered across your face. This is why you never cry in front of a stranger.

“There, there you crybaby,” he comforts you with a hand on your shoulder, the other pulling out a handkerchief to dab your tears away. “Who knows the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel is such a softie. I heard from the staff that you’re fucking scary when someone gets on your bad side.”

“Then don’t get on my bad side,” you roll your eyes in annoyance. “But God, I really can’t blame them. Our people are so posh, and snobby—“

“We’re basically snoshy,” he finishes your sentence and laughs. “Your brother tells me that all the time, if only he knew about my family. He’s most likely gonna murder me in my sleep.”

You roll your eyes, pushing his hand away slightly. “This is why we’ll never get a happy ending of our own. What’s the point of owning all the dollar bills when we’re just sad motherfuckers? And people wonder why we all prefer one night stands. I fucking beg to differ. Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed him that night. Maybe I was nothing but an instant filler for his non-existent love life. ‘Do you still want my phone number?’ He didn’t even bother texting me anymore! Bullshit!”

Jaemin doesn’t know you very well but by the looks of it, you’re definitely not the type to lash out on someone very often. You must have been furious with that Chan guy because whatever he’s done to you, shit must have stung. Because you still look at him with those eyes. Eyes of those who are madly in love. He can’t change that.

“Y/N,” he pulls you into a hug and rubs little circles on your back as an attempt to soothe your aching heart. “Listen, it’s okay if he’s not the one. He might be the wrong person at the right time for all I know. And your soulmate is probably taking their sweet ass time because they are completely oblivious about your existence. But they will be there for you, they will, I promise. You know damn well how life likes to toss us around right? Love is patient, love is kind. And it will come one day.”

You snicker and hug him back, grateful for how he’s already consoling you although you’ve only met twice. Maybe he isn’t like the other boys in the same circle, maybe he’s different even when he dresses the same and looks the same. “Cliché sayings are cliché for a reason, Jaemin,” you laugh before pulling away, staring into his starry eyes.

“I know I know,” he squishes your cheeks together and chuckles. “But hey, sometimes they’re not wrong either. Tell you what though, I was so close to decking that guy in the face back there but I didn’t want to go all Alpha Apeshit and appeared as a douchebag then get blood on his goddamn Tom Ford. Just throwing that out there in case it does help you feel better.”

You can feel your tear-stained cheeks cool against the night breeze. The balcony seems to be the only place that you can seek calmness in, mainly because there’s no alcohol and no one to push you from one boring conversation to another with the same topics. Your people are basically repeating themselves over and over again about money and arranged marriages which you’re not very interested in so yes, you don’t see the purpose of throwing parties that only consist of the top 1%. You lean your back against the railings and watch the party from afar, letting the background chatters sink in. Soon this whole place will be within your grasp along with many others, but you’re afraid that you’ll be lost in your own empire.

“No offense,” you turn back to him and smile. “I didn’t think you’d be able to throw a punch at all.”

Jaemin makes a face, “I’m not like those wonderbreads over there,” then smirks devilishly. “But I’ll never be one’s knight in shining armor. Life just teaches me things that our people don’t. For example, living in a mansion won’t teach you how to throw or take a proper punch. Also, wear black because you’ll never know whose blood is gonna be on there.”

“So you’re saying that being sent to boarding school is the best thing that’s ever happened in your life?”

“Not quite,” he winks. “The best thing that’s ever happened in my life is to have the pleasure of meeting you.”

You shove his chest and laugh wholeheartedly, it feels nice to talk to someone like this. “Don’t flirt with me and find yourself another trophy out there, I’m too bitchy to fit in with those chicks.” You jerk your head towards the girls who are all dressed up in fancy dresses and heavy jewelry, finding amusement in how they’re all eyeing Jaemin up and down like he’s a prettier version of an ATM. “And also, what do you expect? You have the look, the money, know how to kick someone’s ass. That’s more than what a trophy wife needs.”

Jaemin scratches his neck sheepishly. “I don’t know how to take that but thank you, you look better than all of them honestly. I don’t know why women choose to suffocate themselves in a dress and torment their feet just to attract guys with thick wallets like me. I think I’ll need to settle down sooner or later and I’m not planning on doing that with a brat who only sees how many dollar signs I can afford on Yelp.” He sighs in pure frustration and a puff of cold air escapes his lips.

“Haha very funny, Na Jaemin is adulting like how the Senator’s son should be in his early 20s,” you joke. “And no, I’m not gonna make fun of you for that. You want me to pinpoint where we are right now? Adulthood.”

“No! I’m being serious!”

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

“Let me take you on a date and prove it.”

“You’re drunk,” you laugh nervously. But suddenly he inches in closer and your breath hitches in your throat. Nope. He’s dead-ass serious. “You’re being fucking serious, aren’t you?”

Jaemin brings your hand up and presses a small kiss on your knuckles, “See you around, manager Lee.” before sliding away with ease, leaving you blushing so furiously that you almost forgot your heart was broken that night.

six. While you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack because of a date, Kuma - Jennie’s Pomeranian is complaining to you with his eyes about his first world problems aka, Jennie leaving his favorite toy back in New Zealand. “Yes, yes, I get that it’s absolutely unforgivable of her to do that.” You acknowledge and nod absentmindedly, petting him gently. “If anything, I can do you a favor and douse one of her favorite dresses in pickle juice.”

“But also what?” You tilt your head slightly, “She what?! She insulted your favorite tuna bites?! She’s a witch! Burn her!”

“I can’t stand the goddamn smell, that’s all.”Jennie glares at you while hauling her suitcases out of the closet. “You dramatic, bitchy, ungrateful ass.”

“Jen, it’s just a dinner date.”

Jennie dodges your eye roll and proceeds to rummage through one of her ten suitcases, throwing dresses and bodysuits all over the floor. She’s lucky the suite has plenty of extra space or you won’t be able to see the floor in the next fifteen minutes for all you know. Kim Jennie goes ham on picking out clothes for her favorite bitches because not only is she one of the most acclaimed actresses but she’s also a fashion icon, influencer, and Chanel’s one and only darling. Hence, knowing that you’re going on a date with the dress code: formal; she freaked out and dragged you all the way from your house to the hotel that she’s staying in.

You facepalm yourself onto the extra king-size bed and sighs into the soft blanket. Yeah, that’s how rich the Kims are. Not king-size, but extra king-size that can fit at least four people but still have extra leg space. You know where to have your girls’ night this weekend now because you’d rather not have Ryujin whip your ass for bringing friends over.

Your groan grows louder when you keep hearing Jennie repeats “I’m a genius, a fucking genius!” to herself over and over again until she stops. And that’s when you decide to push yourself off the bed carefully to not wrinkle your clothes. “Look at this baby!” She holds up a long, bedazzled gown with spaghetti straps. Gives you a very 70s vibe but you’re not mad at it, you think you might be able to pull it off. “Listen, if you don’t look good in this, I’ll call Chanel and drop it as a flop, got it?”

Wow, Chanel is hanging on the edge of flopping by a strand of hair just because of you. The pressure’s on.

Jennie shoves you into the ridiculous-sized bathroom with marble floor and all, she’s definitely not letting you wear one of your blazers today. “Knock knock,” she impatiently leans against the door after what seems like ten minutes. But all Jennie’s met with is dead silence, she’s starting to get worried now. “Y/N, you good?”

You barge out of the bathroom with a panicked expression, shrieking. “Kim Jennie what were you thinking?!” When she gives you a what-do-you-mean look, you mentally groan to yourself and are kind of ready to call the date off. You’re not going out looking like this. “It’s 64 degrees outside and you’re making me wear this?!” You do a full 360 turn to only to show her the awfully low cut on the back of the dress, and she immediately claps happily like a seal. God, what is wrong with your friend?

“Stunning! Absolutely stunning!” Jennie nods to herself like the evil mad mind genius that she is. “You’re pretty tolerant, so I think it’s not gonna be a problem.”

“Do I have a say in this?” You eye her in defeat when she helps you on a dainty necklace and a pair of silver earrings.

Jennie puts her hands on her hips and almost laughs, admiring you like a piece of art, a creation that she will forever keep in her heart. “What makes you think so?” And off to the date, you go.

Jaemin picks you up not long after, wearing a full-on white suit in his black Mercedes. It’s not hard to guess that it’s his favorite. Since the party from last week, both of you have been texting and FaceTiming non-stop, it almost feels like he’s making up for the lost time that Chan’s wasted. For the Senator’s son, he’s surprisingly approachable, very quirky but charming at the same time. Jaemin does give an effort to make you laugh every time he sends you the same memes over and over again. Hey, it’s not your fault his humor is impeccable.

But being one of the Elite, you can’t blame him for wanting to do it the old-fashioned way. Fancy restaurant, having waiters drape white napkins over your lap, cheesy classical music in the background and the typical candles to set the romantic atmosphere. The place is quite busy too, some ladies in their forties are wheezing in helpless laughter as a waitress secretly shoots them dirty looks while a group of businessmen is eating in silence, an old couple is feeding each other in the corner and a younger couple that you don’t really pay attention to since they’re too far away. Sometimes you wonder what that feels like, to have someone by your side forever.

Maybe forever is just not meant for you.

Forever might not be for you, but going on a date feels like a fresh breeze passing by after so much pain and agony. Jaemin always tries to make you feel as comfortable as possible but still manages to make you laugh until your stomach hurts and tears are evident in the corners of your eyes. He’s not one of those guys who’s not used to hearing the word ‘no’ and never pushes your boundaries. But the feeling’s not there, it’s just not there at all and you wish that it was. You can’t play along then end up breaking his heart later on. No one deserves going through that, not even the ones who lost your trust.

“Okay..” Jaemin peels his eyes away from his crème brûlée’s when you set your fork down. “Just to be clear, I don’t hate you but I would never date you.” And he immediately chokes on his big bite, coughing furiously into the white napkin. You’re very straight to the point, he appreciates that, but still, ouch.

“Tell me three valid reasons why I should stop going after your heart.”

“One, I don’t wanna break your heart. Two, I don’t want you to break mine. And three, I just threw it in the trash.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes rather dramatically, holding back a lighthearted chuckle. “So what? You got your heart broken by some bastard and now you’re gonna distance yourself from everything that’s related to ‘love’? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this? Alone? In your giant mansion with your butt load of money?”

“Yes,” you nod without hesitation, trying to ignore the bitter feeling that’s rising in your throat. “And technically I can adopt as many puppies as I want to.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs and moves a bit to the side. “There’s your man, twelve o’clock.”

You feel like you would personally gouge your eyes out of the sockets the moment they land on Chan and his current girlfriend at the opposite table if you weren’t sane enough for a Michelin-rated restaurant. They’re both wearing black, laughing and talking with each other like they’re the only beings left in this world. You wonder if fate could be a bit more generous to you, just a little bit, then would you be there with Chan instead? You’ve told yourself one too many times not to dwell on the past but like always, you never learn. And you know that you’re dumb but you still don’t get why fate forces two people to meet each other knowing damn well that one of them is gonna leave the other behind.

But this time when you look more closely, his smile looks somewhat forced and the dark circles under his eyes have been darkened by time. He looks so tired and drained but still keeps up the smile for his date. A pang of guilt hits you hard when you realize that you should have listened to what he had to say at the party. He doesn’t look happy, that’s what ticks you off.

Chan subconsciously flickers his eyes upwards and meets yours, completely frozen in his spot like a statue. His smile falters, eyes going wide from surprise, utterly, undeniably speechless. It’s not easy to read what’s going on in his mind but you’re positive that he doesn’t seem to expect to see you in this kind of situation. He quickly averts his gaze back onto the other girl, laughing nervously so that she won’t turn around and accidentally see you. Your heart unknowingly sinks to the pit of your stomach.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” you never knew that you’ve been crying until Jaemin gently wipes your tears away with his handkerchief, his eyes softening at your sobbing form. “But it is what it is.”

seven. Chan quickly calls in a cab for his date after sliding his credit card across the counter. He grimaces slightly when she presses a goodbye kiss on his cheek, and then waves her off when she enters the taxi. After receiving his bill, Chan pushes himself through the busy waiters and waitresses, mumbling small “sorry” along the way until his feet lead him to the long flight of stairs.

And he sees you standing there with your back against him, fiddling with your fingers nervously. He knows you’ve never been good at hiding how awkward you are so it gives him a tiny bit of hope when he finds out he still has this kind of effect on you. But when he takes a few more steps forwards, his jaw almost drops to the floor when he can finally get a closer look at your dress.

Chan’s never seen you in a dress before, but he believes that you have the ability to pull off anything. He’s not wrong after all. The dress hugs your figure perfectly and in the most flattering way, leaving him in complete awe. But you’d never choose a dress, even when it’s a formal dinner. Goddamn, that kid is one lucky son of a bitch, he mentally curses.

You meet Chan once again on a balcony, but tonight you’re met with a sky without stars. It seems like they can’t even muster the courage to see where this conversation is gonna go.

“What’s her name?” You ask breathlessly, still not willing to make direct eye contact with him.

Chan inhales deeply, and exhales, “Her name is Eunji. Apparently, our families had an agreement that we’re gonna be engaged once we reached a certain age. I’m so sorry for shutting you out without a proper explanation, I really am. I’m such an asshole.”

You finally can look at him without getting all teary-eyed, your lips trembling. “It’s alright,” then you quickly look away to avoid any awkwardness. “You guys look good together, I’m happy for you both.” And when Chan doesn’t say anything, you decide to ask him softly. “But are you?”

He buries his face into the palms of his hands and sighs heavily. “I- I don’t know, I just don’t want to let them down. And I tried so hard to tell them that I already had someone else but I’m just scared that—“

“That they won’t accept me because you didn’t know that I do in fact, make cold, hard cash?” You stare deeply into the distance and laugh humorlessly. “After all those years, I had no idea, no fucking idea that you were Christopher Bang, like the Christopher Bang, the one who’s supposed to take over the family’s business, the most eligible bachelor in the country.”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders, catching you off guard when your noses are barely touching, his warm breath fanning your face. “Speak for yourself. You’ve never even told me that you were Felix’s stepsister. All those years of college, and I only know that you’re the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel now. And why are you dating the Senator’s son again? Last time I checked, you’re still leaving me messages even when I went MIA or put the phone on silent all the time.”

“I can date whoever I want to,” you try to shove his arms away but his grip only gets tighter. “And no shit, you know I’m not into guys like that. We’re not dating, he offered me dinner after seeing me so miserable at the party.”

And you quickly assert with a fake smile. “But that’s not the point, is it? Let me guess, if I were not some daughter of the CEO of the biggest hotel chain in the country, then you would never tell your parents about me, would you? You’d rather marry Eunji so that your grandparents won’t potentially disown you instead.”

Chan shakes his head profusely because he could never, would never, can never, and will never trade you for anything else in this world. “No, you don’t understand- I- just- just give me some time and-“ He loves you too much to the point that his heart bleeds a bit whenever you catch his gaze from across the table and return to your conversation with Jaemin, giggling and laughing at his lame jokes like nothing’s ever happened. But his biggest problem here, is how can he convey his love to you once again when you’ve already despised him with every single cell inside your body?

You narrow your eyes at him, slightly amused by how he’s stuttering. “And?”

“Let me make it up to you,” he tells you after running a hand through his brown locks. “Come with my family on a cruise trip next month in Singapore. I’ll prove myself to you and do everything in my power to get your trust back. Even if things can never be the same again. I can’t lose you, I won’t let you go this time. Bring whoever as your plus-one, just not that kid…I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“How are you so sure that you’re not gonna break my heart again?”

Chan says breathlessly and goosebumps automatically bubble up on your skin at his words, “I’m not. Because I know that no matter how many times I stupidly, or impulsively hurt you, you will always stay. And I’ll always be there to gather the broken pieces as if you’ve never felt the pain before.”

A long, muffled silence occurs between both of you. You quickly look away after a good ten seconds of making eye contact with Chan. He’s having that kind of effect on you like how he used to and you’re determined not to fall again. You’d hate to have your heart broken twice by the same person. “You do know that we wouldn’t have worked out anyway right?”

Chan doesn’t say anything, instead, he turns around and calls a ride for you. His eyes look stormy that night, impossible to read as if there are so many things on his mind at the same time to the point that his head becomes cloudy and nothing makes sense anymore. He doesn’t even wave you goodbye when you get inside the car but his gaze never leaves your figure until it’s completely gone in the distance.

You know that it’s something more than just love because your feelings for Chan are still there even when he’s not. You’re just far too busy being depressed inside your bedroom, under your fuzzy blanket to notice them. Now they’re back, again, for the third time, much, much stronger and more powerful. You don’t know whether this is hazing because falling for someone more than twice just sounds unhealthy for you, a person who lives off donuts for two weeks straight because you need the push of the sugar crush in order to avoid caffeine. Chan just stepped into your life like how he did about three hundred and sixty-five days ago and completely broke down the fort you were trying to build.

Call you an idiot, but is it bad to think that he’s not planning on leaving any time soon?

eight. You hate cruises for plenty of reasons, and one of them being, not surprisingly, a cruise is basically a hotel on water. The concept of a hotel floating on the water makes it a trillion times cooler and unnecessarily overrated. In your defense, having a massage or partying ‘til dawn while not knowing when you’re gonna drown to your imminent death is petrifying. Maybe you’re just bitter about the fact that people don’t appreciate normal hotels enough, because they really don’t.

Okay, if you have to choose one thing not to hate on a cruise, then it’s probably the mini theatre that Chan personally demanded for his chaotic group of friends. Hey, privileged people need some wholesome, chill times with friends too.

But the fact that almost everyone has already seen Stranger Things makes you feel more like a grandma than you already are. These are the times where you rarely choose to sit next to Jisung because you’re both on the same boat for once. Other times, you’re just bickering like the reincarnations of every movie where the main characters constantly want to put the other’s head on a chopping block but end up falling in love anyway; except, you will never fall in love with Jisung. That’s so creepy on so many levels.

Creepier than whatever the fuck of a demonic image that Hyunjin’s about to show you, being the pest that he is. “We have four votes for Stranger Things and four votes for Spider-Man: Far from home,” he announces in that irritating voice of his while hogging the whole bowl of popcorn to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, Han? Choose wisely, my friend,”

Jisung sips on his Coke and points his index finger at his roommate as if he’s accusing Hyunjin of murdering someone, “I’m with Y/N, because screw you,” he’s not entirely wrong because, without a doubt, Jisung’s soul is gonna detach itself from his body after the first episode. “And if Chan were here, he’d agree with me,”

“Nope,” Chan conveniently steps in when you’re about to do a fist bump with Jisung, taking the seat on your right despite plenty of other (about twenty-six) empty seats. “We’re watching Stranger Things, it’s been almost thirty minutes and all you guys have been doing is aiming at each other’s throat,” he whips out a small remote from his pocket and clicks the ‘play’ button without anyone’s consent. He has no right to do that! You don’t think you’ll ever forgive him after this.

Chill time isn’t so wholesome anymore.

So basically the whole plot is about a boy going missing, flipping a whole town from Indiana upside down. Everyone spends days and nights, desperately trying to find him until one day, a little girl with a shaved head comes into the story and makes the entirety of the movie that much weirder. And more horror-worthy when she’s being chased by ‘bad guys’. This is another reason why you hate Chan: he can’t be bothered about what he’s watching because he’s only here for good food. And probably your suffering. But mostly just good food.

Actually, it might be the other one because you can clearly see that stupid grin on his face when you pull your hood low enough to cover half of your eyes so that you won’t be potentially haunted at night by whatever’s ready to pop on screen. And Jisung’s already clinging onto one of your arms like his life depends on it, legs quivering in his boots. You really don’t wanna accidentally elbow him in the face when there’s an inevitable jump scare.

“Chan, you sadist, I hope you’re happy for doing this to me,” you sneer at him with gritted teeth, frustrated about the fact that you can’t singlehandedly feed him to the sharks.

Chan leans in slyly, lips dangerously close to your ear. “That’s for you ogling Tom Holland,”

Jisung automatically gasps scandalously, once again opening that useless mouth of his and decides to put you on trial. “A compromise was almost made, Y/N you monster!” (Actually no, he’d never survive law school). Jisung wiggles himself out of his seat faster than a lightning bolt and snuggles closely next to Woojin, who’s staring at the screen like someone’s forcing him to watch one of the worst pantomimes to ever exist. Great, now you’re stuck with Chan in the very front seat, having no choice to hold onto him like he’s your last option before falling into your impending misery in the next sixty minutes.

This asshole is really—

The moment you’re ready to pour a paper cup full of Sprite over his head, Jisung and Hyunjin just happen to whimper and yelp at the same time, with the same amount of awfully loud volume, spilling their own endless string of curse words with the same length while holding onto whoever’s lucky enough to sit next to them. So naturally, you stupidly let your guard down and cower like a child watching Snow White for the very first time and being absolutely terrified of the ugly witch. You’re far too busy thinking of ways to bury Hyunjin alive to realize that you’ve unknowingly pulled yourself closer to Chan and hid your face in his chest.

“Hwang Hyunjin you fucking moron!” Jisung yells at the top of his lungs when another demonic scene occurs, sending actual chills down his spine. He almost misses the feeling of still having a vendetta with his friend back in the good old high school days when they’re still wrestling each other every two minutes. Also, you’ve never felt this bad for Jisung (or even related to him) in a fairly long time, because… same.

Hyunjin can officially kiss your Jeep goodbye because you’ll never let him borrow it again. That idiot.

“You’re such a baby,” Chan comments and purposely cuts off your trains of thoughts so that you can peel yourself off him and look straight into the screen again, at the wrong time.

“I’m not your baby—“

You hiss in panic and throw yourself onto him again, trying to calm yourself by listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and persistent pace of breathing. You’re already mentally apologizing to Jennie because you’re 75% sure that she’s not gonna be able to sleep with you sticking to her side like a jellyfish. There was this one time you all watched The Conjuring because Jisoo insisted so much and except for her and Lisa, no one got a wink of sleep that night so you’re not sure how you’re gonna survive this when there’s no pillow or blanket to protect you from all of the horrifying sound effects and imageries.

Chan secretly bumps his fist with Jeongin in the back, who’s a little bit too occupied with Hyunjin crushing his bones every two seconds. The perks of hitting on a friend’s sister. Works like a charm, he smirks internally. “Little Y/N is scared, how precious,” he looks down at you, and a smile blooms on his lips, enjoying the blissful feeling of having you in his embrace again.

“I am not scared!” You still can’t learn to accept that sometimes, admitting to your defeat is better for your own good.

“Then why won’t you look at the screen then?”

“Because- oh my God, what the hell was that?!”

“It’s okay to admit that you’re scared, I can protect you,” Chan boasts with his chin high up. And you’d love to blush at his affectionate words right now, really. Only if he didn’t quickly jump into conclusion because of your crush on Tom Holland and chose the movie in the span of a split second.

“Christopher, this isn’t funny!”

“Well, I certainly didn’t try to insult you in any means at all, ma’am. I don’t see what’s the problem here,” he singsongs, gently draping an arm around your shoulders. This time, he’s glad that you didn’t end up punching him in the gut.

“Shut the fuck— Jesus Christ!” You screech when the demonic image keeps flashing in your mind, driving your head around in circles. “Chan, I swear to God, you’ll regret—“ you don’t even bother to finish your sentence and have no choice to hold onto him like he’s your only source of life, without him, you’ll soon disintegrate into fine dust and slip away easily. If Lisa was here, she would record the whole thing and play it on the slideshow of videos that she’s been preparing for your upcoming birthday. Thank God she’s playing beer pong with BamBam somewhere on the second floor.

That sounds so melodramatic but it’s not necessarily wrong. Chan still has that same sense of comfort whenever your skin comes in contact with his, even when it’s a thin layer of fabric away, you can still feel how badly it burns like a reminder for you that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. Nothing’s going to change that, your intuition has told you before but you elect to ignore it. You’re starting to realize that you let Chan into your life again just like that, let him tear down your walls, and lit your heart on fire.

But what you don’t know is that his heart is still beating vigorously in his chest cavity for you, after all this time. His one and only.

“Hey, hey,” he tells you softly.

“What? Don’t make me look, I don’t wanna see it, I don’t wanna hear it either, I’m scared okay just don’t—”

“No, Y/N, look at me,” Chan chuckles and takes your face in his hands, forcing you to stare into his starry eyes. All you can see is an entire cosmos, more wondrous and beautiful than everything you’ve ever seen. He shines like he owns the entire universe in his existence, glowing from within and leaves you utterly speechless. Your head starts to become fuzzy and your heart dips when you realize how terribly close you are to him.

Chan takes your head and gently places it on the left side of his chest, smiling. “Can you hear that? It’s your fault, yeah, you did that to me,” The calm rhythm of his heart cancels everything out; all you can see is him, and all you can hear is his heartbeat. You spend approximately one second debating whether you should kiss him and you hate every moment of that one single second, you dread every nanosecond of it.

“Are you still afraid?” He whispers and you shake your head almost immediately without replying with what’s in your head. Like no shit, you’re more than just petrified right now, this is by far, one of the scariest, most frightening, and most nerve-racking decisions you’ve ever made in your life.

At that moment, it feels as if you’re standing on the edge of a cliff with him by your side. And you do exactly what he’s asking you to because it’s the only thing that you can do.

You jump.

nine. Weirdly enough, you miss college.

You miss those days where you had to finish the entirety of your morning routine in a span of five minutes so that you could be out the door and not miss the bus. You miss those moments where you had to skip two steps at a time on the longass flight of stairs just so your professor wouldn’t have another excuse to yell at you other than the overdue assignments.

You also miss college parties, not because they’re ‘lit’ but because things were simpler back then. People come, drink, get wasted, fight someone (or make out with someone), and then go home. Actually, no, they usually make out first thing first in the front porch because college students don’t give two fucks about their dignity and decency. You definitely didn’t miss that. And also those times where you ogled Chan during lunch breaks or when you both took the usual 4419 to college on a daily basis.

Everything gets a little more nostalgic when Minho slides your usual mojito across the counter and gives you that cat-like smile of his. Somehow, it makes you wanna hug him and bite his head off at the same time but you’re not wasted enough for that yet. You just need to get your mind off Chan when he’s too busy being tormented by his own family.

“Zero sips and you’re already dreaming about Chan? Gee, if I’m not mistaken then you’re so in love with him, manager Lee,” Minho is in his element, surrounded by good music and alcohol. In which, there’s no point in arguing with him anyway because you’re basically vulnerable and defenseless when everywhere you go, you see Chan’s face.

You down half of the mojito in one go and the bartender in front of you almost staggers backward from utter shock. Normally, you’d be snapping back at him with a witty retort instead of being all sappy and dreamy like this. This is not good. “My my, you’re really thinking about him, aren’t you? So tell me, how does that feel? To be deeply in love with another human being,” he leans forward to approach you, propping his head up with his hands. You murmur a small “bullshit” and proceed to toss your head back for a bit, shaking the weariness away.

“Listen, I might be heartless and all but when I accidentally put Tabasco into Jisung’s orange juice instead of honey the other day, I did actually feel bad about it. I felt a rush of empathy for a split second there,” Minho muses when he sees the corners of your lips curl upwards, stretching into a small grin. “It was wild, and then I just thought; is this what it feels like…to be a decent human being? Edgy, I know.”

You laugh dryly with boredom glinting in your eyes. “You know, if you’re going to distract me from thinking about Chan, at least be good at it,” his mouth drops open at your statement, completely gobsmacked. Oh, how the tables have turned. He’s never felt so defeated and useless before. Usually, he’s the one who makes others speechless. It’s not hard to tell that he hates it when everything just flips upside down.

“Bitch please,” Minho says with puckered lips. “Even if I spiked your drink, you’d still repeat his name in your dream like a mantra because you’re so fucking whipped for him,” he stops for a while to train his undivided attention on the Tequila Sunrise for Jisung who’s already smashed after two beers. He can really use some counseling, Minho ponders. “And you wouldn’t kiss Chan back if you hated him, gotta love stupid feelings that you can’t even explain for yourself, am I right?”

You take another sip of your drink and exhale, staring into his sharp eyes. “Excuse me, who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Lee Minho, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor,” he holds back the urge to slap you across the face with Felix’s Gucci slippers and instead, musters the sweetest smile. Being a bartender and a potential alcoholic at the same time definitely doesn’t help because he wishes he could just chug a whole bottle of vodka before you complain to him about your miserable love life. “I believe I’m qualified enough to give you some solid advice. So shut up and listen to me—“

“—I’m trying! But Minho, what if I’m the delusional one? What if he just wanted a fresh start so that we wouldn’t be so awkward towards each other? A kiss can’t possibly mean something. I mean, if you consider our New Year’s kiss, it meant so much to me but I don’t know if—“

And now, Lee Minho, self-proclaimed, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor; doesn’t have the slightest earthly idea of what the hell he should do. God, serious relationships are so fucking complicated to the point that his brain is yelling for retirement. Usually, he just poisons his friends with a dose of some common sense and solid logic to knock them back to reality in order to figure out whatever they’re going through. But this time, he thinks he should just let you fall further and further until Chan catches you instead.

Now that he’s thinking about it. Chan definitely didn’t pay him enough to be the bartender and a personal therapist for the love of his life.

“Seems like you’re not enjoying the party,” you instantly turn around because you can realize the owner of the voice in the matter of a split second. The moment Chan’s eyes are locked with yours, your heart immediately jumps up to your throat and then drops back down to your chest. If only this was because of the mojito, you’d feel better about it somehow but unfortunately, Minho gave you a non-alcoholic one today.

You can tell that he’s already hammered by the smell of alcohol when his warm breath brushes over your nose and how his cheeks are redder than usual. Minho quickly excuses himself from the scene to save himself from witnessing a mediocre, drunk confession session. And also because people are starting to pour in by the second, so the bar will probably be overpopulated in the next ten minutes or so. It’s downright a college party again except for the fact that everyone is floating on water but still, alcohol-thirsty pigs are still pigs. Everyone’s sloppy and lightheaded to the point that you’re already hearing the janitors crying themselves to sleep tonight.

“I’m enjoying it more than you if you couldn’t tell already,” your face morphs into a frown when Chan giggles and stumbles around like a madman. He would have facepalmed himself onto the marble counter with various bottles that probably cost more than one of his cars combined and made a scene if it weren’t for your hands steadying the blades of his shoulders. The warmth of your fingers radiate through his denim jacket and sinks into his skin, making his head a little fuzzy while you’re wondering how the fuck did he get this batshit drunk when Minho was with you the whole time.

“What the hell did you have?”

“I don’t know, BamBam asked me to try out some of his new cocktail recipes,” Chan hiccups and allows you to fling one of his arms over your shoulders. “Guess I didn’t consider dinner with my family afterward. Mom said I should just get some rest but I was thinking of you, so voila, I’m here now,” he gives you that signature boyish grin of his that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. But this time, your frown just grows deeper because since when did BamBam know how to make cocktails? And almost knocked Chan out too? You know why you should just stick to Minho’s mojito now.

Your eyes widen in panic as Chan almost trips over your foot when Hyunjin accidentally bumps into his back. “Oh Y/N, I’ve been looking for you,” the younger boy tells you with a Margarita in his hand, curiosity laced in his eyes. “No, scratch that, actually, some guy called Jaemin is looking for you,” Hyunjin then leans closer to a very-shocked-looking you and tries to shout over the loud music. “Who is that guy anyway? I heard rumors going around that he’s the Senator’s son or—“

Even though Chan’s not very sober at the moment and all he can hear is “some guy” and “the Senator’s son”, he knows that he needs to get you out of here as soon as possible. That bastard, Chan thought he’s already eliminated him from the guest list. Without a second thought, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you away from Hyunjin although he’s not the real threat here, piloting you through the sweaty bodies grinding against each other to the EDM music in the background. He was gonna take up the DJ duty tonight but really…is he gonna let you have another encounter with Na Jaemin? Yeah, he thought so too.

Before you can even register the whole situation, Chan’s already backed you up against a wall in his bedroom, a hand over your mouth with the other on the small of your back. Time seems to stop when you see the golden flecks in his eyes, floating softly in his nebula, and you’re absolutely, definitely, totally falling for him all over again. He’s so incredibly beautiful it leaves you moonstruck, wondering how can God be so unfair to make Chan look better than you even when he’s wasted.

Everything starts moving once again when a series of “have you seen Y/N?” echoes through the hallway and you can physically feel Chan tighten his grip on your body, jaw clenching too much that it might hurt. You know that voice all too well; Na Jaemin is here. And he’s looking for you. But you can care less right now because your heart automatically does a flip when Chan makes direct eye contact with you, his index finger hovering over his lips.

“Y/N, I need to tell–“

But this is not the time to fawn over how good he looks, you tell yourself with such determination.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you help Chan walk over to his king-size bed, his limbs wobbly and unstable. After a solid minute of struggling and panting, you finally have Chan laying on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. While you’re too busy unfolding his blanket, he’s murmuring gibberish that you can’t quite, choosing to ignore it like how you’ve ignored Woojin snoring at two in the morning during a camping trip. “Chan,” you shake his shoulders slightly. “You’re gonna fall flat on your face if you sleep like this,”

You hiss through gritted teeth helplessly. “Chan!” But he doesn’t even move a single muscle. “You idiot, why did you agree to drink all of those cocktails?” You’re going to rip BamBam’s head off of his neck next time with your bare hands, it’s on. “Chan!” Your last attempt of waking him up fails miserably when he scrunches his nose a little, then proceeds to move on with his slumber.

Yeah, he’s definitely gone.

Or not.

Just when you’re about to give up and leave him as he is, Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you flush against his chest, heart thundering more vigorously than ever. He easily rolls the both of you to the side with no effort, only to get a better grip of your waist, his breath tickling your nose. At the suddenly close proximity, you can take a closer look at his long lashes that framed his eyes perfectly, his tall nose and his plump lips. Chan looks so ethereal and otherworldly that you wonder what it feels like to run your hands through his hair, dance your fingers against his jawline and press your lips against his.

But you also notice the bags under his eyes and how his brows are slightly knitted together. He doesn’t seem to be doing a great job at taking care of himself after all and it makes your heartache knowing that he didn’t have any other choice. It’s no one’s fault, really, though, in scenarios like this, people would love to point fingers and make assumptions out of something that they don’t even know. Falling in love with Chan for the third time can be the best thing that’s ever happened to you or it will eventually push you off a cliff, straight into a downward spiral.

Whatever the consequences are, you’d never trade him for anything in this world. Even if it means getting your heart broken all over again. You’re willing to walk through fire and step on thorns just to be by his side again. But at the same time, you’re not sure if he feels the same because if not, you’ll be left with nothing. Maybe he’ll forget all of this in the morning. Maybe it’s never meant to happen anyway.

Chan suddenly pulls you in more and his lips are terribly close to your flesh, your eyes going wide in panic. Moments later, soft snores escape his mouth as his chest heaves up and down in a calm rhythm. It reminds you of when he hugs you in the theatre, embarrassment soon flares through your nostrils and sprinkle a shade of coral on the apples of your cheeks. You can’t help but smile, arms snaking around his firm waistline.

Chan hugs you so tightly that you blindly believe that he needs you. As if it’s his way of saying “stay, it makes me feel at ease that you’re right here, in my arms again”. No one has ever really needed you. As sad as it sounds, your family can still move on with life just fine even when you’re not there. Your friends have their own jobs and other relationships as well, they don’t actually need you. You’ve never felt anything quite like this before, it’s a little bit frightening but also a little bit tempting.

Yep, you think to yourself. I’m done for.

Goddamnit BamBam.

ten. Chan groans loudly when the early daylight hits him like a truck, knocking him out of his semi-unconscious state. Hangovers still hit him hard, but this time, shit hurts way worse because someone still has a lot to learn as a mixologist. He smells like alcohol, probably looks like trash, and his head is fuzzy yet [insert culprit’s name] is standing right in front of him, all dressed up like he’s about to do a drug transaction.

“Bro,” he narrows his eyes to do a full scan of the bedroom, plopping himself back down only to realize that you’re not here. “You fucking suck at making cocktails,”

BamBam only chuckles humorlessly at that, five of his drinks didn’t even put a dent on Changbin yet the infamous Bang Chan wasn’t able to stay sober to not have a girl carry him to his bedroom. “Drink,” he gives the glass of water in his hand a light thrust before handing Chan a tablet of aspirin with the other. He’s also decided that it’s a lovely Sunday morning and he doesn’t have time for this shit. He should be chomping on breakfast in bed with something on the TV right now. But, he can’t risk having Chan roam the cruise looking all homeless and insane.

“I can’t believe not only did you let Y/N into your room, slept in the same bed as her,” Chan chokes on the big gulp of water that he’s just taken, and everything from last night starts pouring back to him like an unwanted nightmare. He was far too drunk to even remember every detail, he just prays to whatever gods up there that he didn’t say anything stupid. “Yet you didn’t even confess, great fucking job.” BamBam asserts like the true friend that he is, accidentally pushing Chan closer to his imminent misery.

Chan snaps his head up and almost screams aloud that his heart’s about to jump out of his chest, “You wanted me to what?!”

“You heard me,” BamBam tongues the inside of his cheeks in annoyance, regretting the amount of money that he spent to tip one of the cruise’s staff so that he could sneak his own alcohol in safely. “You know what that means? That means you still didn’t shoot your shot! You did not shoot your shot! Which entails? You’re gonna be lonely for the rest of your life and eventually die alone. You’re gonna die alone! You hear me?”

Chan thinks it’s way too early for him to endure BamBam repeating himself over and over again like a crazy person. He might still be slightly hammered because all he’s hearing is “shoot your shot” and “die alone”, he’s confused because why in the world is his best friend making him choose between killing someone and dying alone? Wait, no, actually….he might mean something else. Chan’s just in denial.

“Where is she?” He rasps out tiredly after taking the pill and downs the whole glass of water.

“Lisa carried her back to Jennie’s room in the middle of the night,” BamBam informs his friend, watching how his eyes are starting to turn stormy, and then he exhales out of relief. “She almost murdered me! This is all your fault!” He cries out dramatically before belly-flopping himself onto Chan’s bed, metaphoric tears dripping down on his cheek.

Chan perks an eyebrow as if BamBam just offended him, as if he’s mental and just made it out of an insane asylum. “My fault?” He questions, his voice getting louder and louder at the end. “Whose idea was it to poison me with your questionable drinks? Whose idea was it to make me all batshit drunk? Whose idea was it to let me into the party so that I could find the only thing that I’ve been trying to avoid all night? It was your fault, okay?! It-was-your-fault!” He deadpans and soon realizes that now he’s the one who’s repeating himself.

BamBam is more than confused right now because didn’t Chan want this after all? To confess to you once again and get you back? All he was trying to do is basically give his friend a teeny tiny sprinkle of motivation and this is how he repays him? Now he looks like an idiot who has been trying to sabotage the relationship between the two protagonists of another horrible rom-com. Jackson was right, he should have just played ping pong in peace and not stick his nose into other people’s business.

“Look,” he places a hand on Chan’s shoulder as he sighs deeply into the palms of his hands, mentally debating how the fuck can he make it up to you now. “She could have just refused your invitation of stepping onto this cruise. She could have pushed you away when you tried to kiss her,” BamBam stops midway to suppress his laughter at how Chan’s cheeks are taking no time to turn into a brighter shade of pink. “And, she could have left you alone and drunk at the bar, and- I don’t know, hang out with Na Jaemin or something.”

When a muffled silence descends in between the current civil conversation, only a confused look crosses Chan’s features and all BamBam wants to do right now is to put his head through a goddamn wall. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he murmurs to himself. “Minho’s right. You both are so dumb it’s physically hurting me.” Not exactly the most comforting words to tell a person in crisis but things hitting hard like this actually helps Chan a lot more than how people usually sugarcoat their words.

“Listen, it’s not like there’s no more fish in the sea but have you ever met someone who instantly clicked and just simply fell for you? She didn’t know that you had money, she didn’t know anything about your family. She could care less about your social background too honestly, because she fell for who you truly are,” BamBam hates to be cliché, really, but it is what it is. “Y/N has never gone a day without checking your notifications, she was so broken when you suddenly just shut her out like that. And yes, you were an asshole for doing that but can’t you see how hesitant she was every time you’re trying to get closer?”

Chan looks up at his friend, his tense muscles finally relaxing. “Which isn’t the point…”

“Which isn’t the point,” BamBam tells him, looking more serious than ever and it’s freaking him out. “Because what I’m trying to say is, it’s still not too late to shoot your shot.”

eleven. Maybe you deserve someone else, but deep down, you’ve always wanted Chan. And in your heart, you know that it’s right because humans only want the love they thought they deserved. You think part of the reason why you can never seem to let go of him is you’re just scared that something so amazing won’t happen twice. People might call you out for dwelling on the past but you call it a coping mechanism.

Magically, you’re starting to get used to the frequent encounters with Chan and Eunji since they’re also apparently part of the Privileged. You really should give yourself a pat on your shoulder for not having a mental breakdown whenever you see them hand in hand in public. The forced smile on Chan’s face always gives you the tiniest strand of hope that he’s just putting on a show as demand from his family. But at the same time, you’re scared that you’re just being delusional and you’d never have anything to do with his life from now on. Perhaps he wanted a fresh start so that everything can be like how they used to back in college? He didn’t want to “lose you again” because he still wanted to be friends?

But every time he tried to sneak a glance towards your direction and smiled, all you could think was: “Oh, shit,”

You knew that you fell for him twice, and you’re still falling. Every. Single. Day.

“Like what you see?” Changbin brags on the other side of the curtain, followed by a string of gagging noises by Jisung. And you secretly want to take a picture of his face, for science, obviously. But by that, you mean to blackmail him whenever wherever you want because he’d rather not have his fans gushing over him looking like a dying donkey, inside a fifteen thousand dollars suite on a cruise.

“You look like an idiot.”

Jisung voices with pure disgust in his tone. “Who the fuck lend you a white tuxedo?” Needless to say, you try to picture Changbin wearing a white suit and you immediately scrunch your nose up, shaking your head profusely. Changbin looks especially good in dark colors, but you’re not saying that he wouldn’t look good in brighter tones, it just feels weird not seeing him in a black tux, even when it’s just for a small party.

“My sister! If anything she’s an idiot,” he’s probably throwing his hands up in frustration. “She said I should switch things up. And I trusted her, now I feel like an idiot.”

Jisung asserts like a snake, “You look like you have a stick up in your ass, it’s so high up I can literally see it whenever you’re opening your mouth.” He’s probably man-spreading on the blue velvet couch, playing with the glass of bubbly champagne that he’s specifically requested. You don’t get why he would want to drink when he’s waiting for his friends in the dressing room but he will, just because he can.

“Ew,” he spats not long after. You’re not sure if he’s referring to the drink or Changbin’s outfit. It might be the drink, it’s shit but it gets the job done. It’s more about the concept of looking elegant and fancy more than the concept of getting wasted, in order to not look like a corrupted person. “Why would you godsend privileged, snoshy, live-and-breathe-in-money people deadass drink this instead of a nice Tequila?” Yep, not surprising.

Changbin protests, clearly annoyed. “Because we can afford that shit, just like how there’s a random, money dripping guitar in the dressing room,” you don’t even have to peek to know that he’s rolling his eyes to the point that they’re gonna fly out of their sockets. “But at the same time…true, I don’t like it either. That’s why I never get wasted whenever I go to parties like these, man, I miss college parties,”

God, this zipper is driving me nuts, you mentally curse when it gets stuck halfway and your arms are already giving up on you. Where’s Jennie when you’re in desperate need of her help?

“Whatever, let’s go find your sister and get you in a new tux,” you can hear Jisung pushes himself off the couch and settles his champagne down on the coffee table. “No offense towards her…I just fucking hate it on you,”

“Wait, guys—“ the moment you try to call out to them, they basically shut the door of the dressing room. “Well, shit,” you sigh, quickly realizing that 1) you don’t have your phone with you; 2) you can’t just run outside to grab it because what if Changbin and Jisung get back here at an untimely moment; and 3) there’s no way in hell you’re gonna ask one of them to zip it up for you. Now you’re forced to stay in a confined space with your only protection aka the red velvet curtain that looks way too cliché for your liking. Seriously, isn’t Jennie supposed to be here with you? It was her idea to put you in another dress, which you hate with a passion but you can never have the heart to tell her that.

The door swings open again and you exhale out of surprise, “Thank God, Jen. You’re here. Can you help me with my zipper? It’s stuck, and my hands gave up on me,” you immediately turn around, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Do you think Chan’s gonna hate seeing me in a dress again? I mean, I did call him an asshole when I wasn’t wearing one,” you stop to take in a breath, completely oblivious about the fact that it wasn’t Jennie who opened the door. “…but I was kinda acting like a bitch when I was wearing one too. I was so furious knowing that he’s seeing someone else behind my back that I wanted to bite his head off. And now I’m stuck here with him, his family, and that chick, in a hotel, on water, floating spontaneously somewhere near Singapore.”

Wordlessly, a pair of hands push the curtains aside to tug onto your zipper, slowly adjusting it and careful not to break it at the same time. Once your dress is zipped up all the way, you’re ready to turn your head and thank your friend. “Stay still, I’m not done yet,” your face automatically burns darkly when you come to a realization that it’s definitely not Jennie, most definitely not Jennie. In fact, it’s the person you’ve been planning on avoiding all night. Before you can decide when to make a run for it and save yourself from the imminent embarrassment, a silver necklace is draped around your neck, a diamond-studded buttery resting nicely right below your collarbones.

“Beautiful,” he says again in that honey-dripping voice of his. “You should wear dresses more,”

“Chan! You just scared the living daylights out of me,” you whisper harshly, turning on your heels and shove his chest. You definitely didn’t know what you were signing up for because it’s a grave mistake for you to accidentally look into his captivating eyes and you can see an entire universe in them. Absolutely magnificent. He looks impeccably good in his bejeweled black suit jacket, black turtleneck, and a silver chain around his neck, matching pieces of jewelry adorning his ears.

Chan wiggles his brows like the self-indulging person that he is, straightening his lapel dramatically. “Hmm, I don’t know if you can smell that, but it reeks of jealousy in here, and also hatred, but mostly jealousy.”

“Can. You. Zip. It. And. Call. It. A. Day.” With every word, you repeatedly slap his chest, but only to see him breaking into a fit of giggles in return. You almost forgot that he works out, whereas, you literally have zero ounces of muscles on your body. What a disgrace to your family. Like come on, even Felix has abs, and he never turns down Tacos Tuesday whenever he has dance practice with Hyunjin because their studio is conveniently situated right next to the best Mexican restaurant.

And the guacamole there? Phenomenal.

Chan teases, “I thought girls like you should be taught to act like a lady, not hitting the innocents.”

“Stop being a baby, Bang, it’s not like I’m gonna leave you with a bruise or two.”

Ah yes, this reminds Chan of the good old days of college where you’re both in that weird phase where you’re too much of a scaredy-cat not to talk to him on a last name basis because Changbin was an idiot for constantly leaving you two alone in the music room. “Why?” His lips curl up into a grin. “Because you can’t even open a jar of spaghetti sauce by yourself?”

That’s…that’s just a harsh truth. And now you feel like Regina George getting hit by a bus because life’s willing to give you a piece of its mind. You’re weak as fuck.

“It’s not fair when Felix has a six packs while eating tacos every other week, and I’m here looking like this with a green smoothie for breakfast every day,” you mumble bitterly, already too tired to argue with Chan because the party’s starting in half an hour. “I swear he’s on drugs, he always puts something into his daily Americano.”

Chan laughs breathlessly and cups your face with his hands, squishing your cheeks together. “I’m pretty sure it’s just stevia since Lix has a sweet tooth. On the bright side, I think you look just fine like how you are right now. I like you just the way you are. No modification is needed.” The audacity.

Your nostrils flare with heat, and your cheeks feel hot against Chan’s cool fingers. Again, Chan looks really good tonight and you’re not sure how much longer your heart can hold up before you pass out in his arms. “Uhm, so, just to make it clear,” you fiddle with your fingers nervously. “You and I-“

“Hey guys, how are things going—” Jennie pops her head into the dressing room and looks around, seeing no signs of Changbin or Jisung whatsoever. “What did I miss?” She looks at you cluelessly, then her lips automatically spread into a shit-eating grin when she sees how Chan’s cupping your cheeks. Just when you thought you can’t possibly blush any more darkly.

You awkwardly pull away when Chan clears his throat, retrieving his hands from your face. “Jen, just get out, I swear it’s nothing.” Yeah, as if Jennie aka the person who proclaims to be an expert at love because she’s snuck way too many boys into her closet, is gonna believe your pathetic attempt at an explanation.

“Oh, I’ll get out,” Jennie throws you a wink and you can see how Chan’s shuddering slightly at the dangerous glint in her eyes. “Now, don’t get too freaky in here okay kids, walls are pretty thin,” she asserts unhelpfully like the true friend that she is before shutting the door close. When you’re about to blurt out as many apologies as you can muster to Chan, a soft ‘click’ echoes through your eardrums. Your eyes grow alarmed almost immediately and so do Chan’s.

Did she just lock you inside the dressing room with Chan and expect something to happen? Kim. Fucking. Jennie.

“I hate you, and Jennie,” you tell Chan, not even bothering to hit him this time.

You’d rather take a nap on that couch over there than go out and party honestly. Parties only consist of two things most of the time: drinking and talking. But getting wasted is not an option tonight because you’re not about to spill rosé on the dress that Jennie adores the most. Although you do hate her ass right now.

And people don’t even hold proper conversations during parties unless they know each other, there are only small talks which are so….ugh. You don’t understand the purpose, the meaning of speaking to someone with a maximum of three sentences. You need a real, authentic, civil conversation about a specific topic that’s worth one’s time. Not just “how are you liking the party?” and “yeah, it’s dope, you?” or other gibberish nonsense.

Sometimes you feel bad for those people because their lives are staler than those crumbs of bread that pigeons feed off.

Chan tips his head back and releases the most obnoxiously loud series of laughter that you have to hold back the urge to kick him off the cruise. “You know you love me,”

“I don’t.”

“If you don’t then why would you dash through the airport like a madwoman just to hug me and tell me those three magic words?”

“Too bad, my brain just refused to recall that memory.”

He grabs your chin and angles it so that you’re directly looking into his eyes, dimpled smile, and all. “Then do I need to interfere and remind you?”

You don’t think you’re gonna make it through tonight if Chan keeps making your chest swell like this.

twelve. You and Chan have decided to change into more casual outfits and ditch the formal ones to strip the awkwardness and tension to a bare minimum. And by ditching, you mean hanging them up nicely so that Jennie won’t strangle you later. It is her dress after all. But you have every right to burn it since it was her idea to lock you up with Chan in a dressing room. Thank God it’s almost the size of her closet. Now, you’re both laying flat on your backs on the navy fuzzy carpet before the white couch, already moved the tiny coffee table away so that you won’t accidentally knock something that costs a fortune over. Kind of insanitary too but you can’t care less.

“Are you hungry?” Chan turns his head and asks you, warm brown eyes twinkling under the dimmed light.

“No,” you shake your head, and as if on cue, your stomach rumbles involuntarily. As Chan bursts into laughter, you quickly cover up your pink cheeks with the palms of your hands, internally groaning in pure agony. “Yes, I am hungry like a normal human being should because it’s already midnight, sue me.” You confess.

If only some of Ryujin’s leftovers were here. This is exactly why you refuse to eat out most of the time. Why bother hiring high-end chefs and having fancy dishes when you’ve already had a roommate who’s born into cooking? God, you miss her spaghetti.

Chan props his head onto one of his arms and looks down at you, a glint of mischief evident in his orbs. “You know what’s a whole fucking gourmet dish? Me,” he peels your hands away from your face with ease, holding onto them tightly to prevent you from smacking his chest.

You roll your eyes at him in the bitchiest way possible, yanking your hands away from his because every touch burns like fire and you’re not letting yourself be vulnerable tonight. If you still remembered some of the moves from the martial art classes that mom forced you into when you were in middle school, Chan wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance. You almost snap someone’s arm in half back then, but those days are long gone.

“You? Please, you’re like those piles of unwanted leftover vegetables that everyone keeps giving away to their most annoying relatives,” you start talking big with no intention of meaning it.

Chan’s not just a single dish, he’s an entire buffet. You could never imagine how it felt like for him to have thousands of letters and notes pouring out from his personal locker when he’s wrapping up for the day. Yeah, a total heartthrob. That’s why all of the dumb bitches on campus would always circle around him during breaks, no matter where he went. You were one of them too, you’re also a dumb bitch. Except, you didn’t need to stalk him, Changbin did all the work for you: inviting you to sit with them during lunch breaks, letting you ride the 4419 home alone with Chan, consistently hinting at Chan about your stupid feelings for him every two seconds,… In all honesty, you should be thanking him but you also want to throw him into a tank full of sharks.

Chan gasps, like audibly gasps as if you’re throwing shade at him, which you totally are. “You’re such an absurd, unreasonable, incongruous, preposterous-“ he pauses midway because he’s already running out of big words for ‘ridiculous’ to call you out on; it takes guts and Oscar-worthy acting to insult his godly appearance and impeccable visual, it really does. “—whatever, doesn’t matter. I know that you’re lying,” he singsongs before pushing himself off the carpet, stretching his limbs tiredly.

You think it’s almost two hours since you’re laying in a single spot, and you’re not risking having any parts of your body paralyzed so you get up, proceeding to do the same thing. “I can’t believe you didn’t have your phone with you,” you throw your hands up in exasperation, careful not to chip one of your nails. Lisa didn’t spend an hour on them for nothing. “And no one is even looking for us! Literally no one!” You can’t exactly blame your chaotic group of friends because they’ve probably fallen asleep since formal parties like these are so damn boring but Chan’s parents not freaking out about their missing son? And his “fiancé” too? That’s oddly concerning.

“You don’t have your phone with you either,” he snickers, hands reaching for the random acoustic guitar in the corner of the room. “I doubt that Lisa or Jisoo’s gonna get us out of here, I don’t even have faith in the two other parts of 3RACHA anymore.”

“What about your fiancé?” You ask him out of the blue, completely ignoring the sudden pang in your chest.

Chan shrugs nonchalantly, strumming some random chords with the instrument. “I broke it off with her, in front of my parents.”

“Cool then-“ you almost choke on your own saliva, “—hold up, did I just mishear you? Did you dump her?! In front of your parents?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” You heave, feeling your heart rate increasing by the nanosecond. Not only did Chan break down the walls you’ve been trying to build, he utterly eliminated the invisible barrier between your life and him (sorry Jaemin), and he knocked down the only obstacle left that’s in his way. Now, imagine two dots with a single line to connect them both. Everything’s as simple as that but your brain is already fried from coming up with one hundred and one ways to move in the slowest way possible.

Chan keeps strumming the guitar in his arms but purses his lips at your particular way of responding to his previous statement. “You know, a ‘thank you’ would be nice. And no, they didn’t disown me. I was like ‘fuck it’, and I told them everything. Not everything-everything, but like everything-everything, you feel me?”

No, I don’t fucking feel you but I can physically feel the shame and agony that’s slowly dawning on me you moron, you think to yourself, inhaling and exhaling deeply to prevent yourself from exploding like a ticking bomb.

“What did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything since they were too…uh, taken aback by the amount of information I guess..”

“Chan, I don’t think you were thinking straight—“

He interrupts you with a sad pout, sticking out his bottom lip. “Why are you talking about my parents and not this guitar?” This man is being ridiculous, as stubborn as a child.

“IT’S A GUITAR! RELAX ABOUT IT!”

“I GOT THIS FOR YOU!” Chan raises his voice slightly to catch you off guard and then sighs deeply. “Felix said you hadn’t played the guitar in years, but you were pretty good at it. So I wanted to surprise you, don’t you like it?”

“Chan, you what?” Your voice grows smaller and smaller until it’s only as audible as a whisper. “You didn’t have to do that- of course I like it! But- it’s just..” You stop talking completely to take a closer look at the acoustic guitar in his hands. It’s made of a reddish-brown type of timber with a satin finish, you can tell that the wood will age well through time and create more depth and warmth to the sound of the instrument. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a guitar, but it’s been way too long since you’ve touched one.

“I- I forgot how to play it after a while..”

Chan throws a wolffish wink in your direction as a reassurance that there wouldn’t be a problem with that. “I can show you how to if you like.”

“Moving too fast, moon is lighting up her skin,” Chan cuts you off softly with his angelic voice, and your heart is stuck in your throat, refraining you from barking back with anything. “She’s falling, doesn’t even know it yet. Heart is beating loud but she doesn’t want it to stop.”

Is he seriously trying to do this by singing a song? A fucking One Direction’s song?

“We’re only getting older, baby. And I’ve been thinking about it lately,” Chan’s voice slowly bleeds into the chorus, and you feel as if all of your pride and dignity have been thrown out the window because you’re completely frozen in your spot when he sits down next to you. Chan smiles throughout the lyrics seeing how you’re looking at him like he’s the only person left in the entire Milky Way, a strange warm sensation bubbling up in his stomach. “Does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?”

“Everything that you’ve ever dreamt of, disappearing when you wake up,” Chan’s heart does an entirety of an acrobatic routine when he locks his eyes with yours. Seemingly to keep himself together, but the insides just feel like he’s being hung upside down on a tree with blood rushing to his face. This just has to be the cheesiest, sappiest, not-necessarily-scream-CB97 way to confess to someone but fuck it, he still needs to shoot his shot. “But there’s not to be afraid of. Even when the night changes…”

He pauses for a few seconds, “..it will never change me and you..” and finishes off smoothly, embarrassment growing more evident on his cheeks.

What did you tell yourself months ago, Y/N? Aren’t you tired of trying? How are you so sure that he wouldn’t do it again? Haven’t you had enough?

Yeah, you’d never know. And yes, you’ve had enough.

Well, to hell with that.

That’s when everything clicks in place. After all this time, after everything you’ve been through, after everything he’s done, you can finally see why you’ve been chasing him relentlessly knowing damn well that your heart is still in his hands, one wrong move and you’ll be utterly destroyed forever. Nobody compares to Chan. Nobody makes you smile like he does, nobody makes you laugh like he does and nobody makes you cry as hard as he does. It’s almost a truth that’s universally acknowledged that everything has been leading up to this specific moment, your heartbeat comes in sync, and two completely different worlds collide with each other.

You almost lost yourself all the way to him, but in him, you also found the way back to you. And how do you argue with the algorithm of falling for someone when the entire universe has conspired for the both of you to be together since forever?

“Uhm…so what-“

Before he can even finish his sentence, you abruptly grab a fistful of his hoodie and yank him towards you. Chan physically feels shivers run up his spine when your hand automatically interlocks with his, still fits like a glove. You kiss him with such desperation and tenderness it makes him feel as if you’ve been wandering this celestial sphere by yourself in the past century, yet he’s always had your heart. And he lets himself trust you with his in your hands once again because this is only the beginning. The paths ahead might not always be peaches and cream, but if it’s with you, he’s willing to stick with you ‘till the very end of it.

You’re the first one to break the kiss, managing to talk between short breaths. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Chan shakes his head and laughs breathlessly, wearing a dimpled on his face, “Nothing, I was just wondering if you’d take me back after everything.”

“After everything?” You merely chuckle when tiny bits of confusion in his orbs soon disintegrate into stardust, floating through the galaxy for eons. “A million times over, I will still choose you and let you rip my heart in half if that’s what it takes for me to stay by your side.”

Chan feels like he’s floating in midair, head all fuzzy and moonstruck. “Actually though…can I kiss you again?”

“And then nap time?” You let out a big yawn, making Chan toss his head back, laughing wholeheartedly.

“And then nap time,” he agrees, gingerly pulling you in by the waist while trying to stop himself from picturing the smirk on BamBam’s face when he opens the door in the morning.

Likewise, BamBam indeed opens the door to the dressing room early in the morning to make a move on his cleanup duty before Chan’s parents have a cardiac arrest. His smirks can’t possibly grow any wider when he sees you cuddle closely to Chan, palms resting on his chest while his hands are locked on your waistline. And BamBam sighs in relief because thank goodness he did shoot his shot.

[anochuu]

P.S. 10.05.2020 is Rengoku’s Birthday! So i was thinking to add an additional short oneshot for him! I’ll get back to the other works as soon as possible!

Here’s to my ultimate bae,Cheers! 

⤧Fluff

“SURPRISE!”

Rengoku stood frozen right on the brink of the door where the lights that were turned off earlier are now brightened up bringing the faces he is so familiar with came to his view.

“Happy Birthday Rengoku-san!” They all greeted simultaneously-well,mostly were too loud.

“Woah woah,what's this! I didn't even realised it's my own birthday!”

“Figured that out,so your woman here made sure to drill it inside our heads this morning.” Tengen’s voice drawl from his left.

He blinks then as if to answer his wonder. The crowd in front moves to the sides,allowing him to finally set his eyes on her smaller form with a cake on her hands.She walks forward to approach him in silence,a smile on her face and Rengoku couldn't help but to be awestruck at her.

“I learnt how to make this when you're off the mission since last week; i hope it's to your liking. Look! i even add your favourite sweet potato flavour!”

“(y/n)..” he murmurs her name dreamily,

Her genuine smile widens, the sweetest one yet for him to always witness and count him as the luckiest man on this earth to have someone like her to be his

“Welcome home,Kyōjurō. And happy birthday.”

he was silent for a few seconds more,before a wide grin breaks out as his expression, 

“I'm home my love.”

Bonus Ending:

Rengoku stare at her back who stood by the kitchen counter,still busying herself by washing the dishes by the sink since half an hour ago after everyone left.

He remembers Sanemi had to dragged Tengen’s drunk figure back to his home,of course after multiple more curses for him.   Giyuu is also surprisingly a light drinker because judging the red colour on his face,he looks about to passed out if it weren't for Shinobu to hide the sake away from his sight.

Maybe because of the ruckus she somehow made it big,even Oyakata-sama sent a letter via crow to congratulate his birthday which is more than a privilege he received from him.

He chuckles to himself,gaining the attention from the woman who takes a gander over her shoulder

“What's so funny?”

“Hm? Nothing! i am just simply thinking i am the happiest man alive right now!” Rengoku replied from where he was sitting by the floor near the desk.

“I clearly didn't seen it coming! One minute i was away on a mission,then i came back with the party already waiting for me! It is truly a surprise!” he continue to rambled on,typical him.

But oh how she misses his voice dearly; this house feels too empty whenever he is away for missions especially when his loud and cheerful voice is always the one that enliven the place.

“i'm glad the plan worked,” grinned (y/n),wiping her hands with the towel and that is when Rengoku beckons her to come closer to him.

She obliged happily.He reacher for her hand,pulling her form until she ended up on his lap where she automatically wraps her slender arms around his neck

“Thank you my love,i clearly don't deserve you at all.”

“Are you even listening to yourself? i'm the one who don't deserve you,Kyōjurō.”

“(y/n)?”

“Listen Kyō, you came and approached me in my depressed time;you’re like the sun to my life,you have no idea how thankful i am to look back today that you never gave up on me.” she cradles his face,admiring his handsome and striking features; once in a while her thumb caresses his thick eyebrows lightly

“I love you Rengoku Kyōjurō, and nobody will ever changed my mind.”

He sighs beautifully, as if he had finally found the reason to live on,the reason to become stronger and able to protect the ones he loves and holds dearly

The Flame Pillar runs the back of his calloused fingers across her cheekbone,his turn to admire the beauty she holds;her pair of big doe (e/c) eyes staring into the depth of his heart that seeks for warmth and comfort;for love and passion

“And i love you,(f/n). You're going to regret when i put a ring around your finger!”

She laughs at his sudden outburst, “And why should i?”

“Because you're going to be stuck with me for the rest of your lives!”

“Hmm,” she taps on her own chin, “Doesn't sound like a bad plan.”

He chuckles along with her, “Come here you.” 

Rengoku pulls her to close the space between them,tilting their chins to be meet as a soft and gentle kiss, a fiery ones that they always share full of longing and affections.

(y/n) slips some little giggles between their kisses and mingled breaths when he nuzzles his nose against hers, “That tickles.”

When she pulls away,they flash one another a genuine smile and that made Rengoku palce another peck of kiss on her sweet lips before she slump forward to rest her head on his abroad chest. Obsess with listening to the rhythmic beats of his heart as the proofs he is alive and well,his warmth is right here with her and that's never going to leave even if death do them apart.

While he hums a random lullaby cradling her in his lap,he rocks her side to side ever so lightly;his arms secured around her.   (y/n) couldn't help but to wander her mind to drift off elsewhere,

“I'm sorry Kyōjurō..”

“Hm? whatever you are apologising for,my darling?”

“....I talked to your Father about the birthday surprise for you.But...”

She couldn't continue because her heart breaks for him. Because the former Flame Pillar somehow does not even acknowledge his own son that any parents would die for.   And Rengoku understands that,he takes it all too well that she often cries for him silently if he is just putting a gaily facade to hide his sadness.

“I tried to asked him to come...”

“I know my love,i know.” Rengoku tightens his embrace, placing a kiss on top of her head,

“Your consideration is more than enough for me you know that.Thank you for trying hard for my sake.”

He felt her shook her head,

“The last time i even had them was before my Mother’s death.You reminded me again how it is important to celebrate it with your loved ones.”

Those words were exactly the same as what Senjurō had told her when she first came to his little brother to ask about his consent of throwing a party for him which he cried gleefully at the idea.

Because Kyōjurō deserves it more in this world.

“Then from now on,let's celebrate it together?”

“Of course! Whatever you want,you name it!”

She laughs lightly, “That reminds me, Senjurō seems very comfortable around the trio.”

“You mean Kamado boy and his friends? they do,don't they!” he recalls his little brother having the laugh of his time earlier when Tanjirou is the first one to asked him sit with them.

“Did you see Inosuke gobbles up the whole tempura dishes? it was insane.” she added again,

“Oh oh and Giyuu’s keep on mumbling something about daikon and salmon! It was too cute! I think even Sanemi—”

Rengoku watches her continue,his sunset hues softens so as his heart.

“Someday,you will find yourself a fitting figure to be worthy of holding the Rengoku name in your sake.Someone who will hold your heart as if she was holding her own.”

He remembers his Mother’s words as vividly as her appearance.

Ah,he really doesn't deserve a goddess like her

“..i think in fact Obanai really likes—hmphf!”

Her lips were sealed when the Flame Pillar leans down and started kissing her feverishly,hanging the unspoken words in the air and stole them away.

“Kyōjurō..!” she warned,though blushing to the tips of her ears.

“You can't just kissed me like that!”

“But you’re too adorable! I can't help it!’

She snorted, slapping the side of his arm, “That hurts..” then rubbing the lower of her lip

Rengoku chuckles, one hand went over the back of her waist,ready to lower her down to the floor slowly

“I'm sorry,shall we try again?”

(y/n) laughs, “We shall.”

Upon the view,  his back is eating her but her arms welcome his weight on her,accepting his heat bleeding into her skin. Raking her fingers through his unruly bright yellow locks,twirling them once in a while with her index finger.

“Happy birthday Kyōjurō.” she whispers against his lips.

Maybe tonight,he finally gets what he wants as a gift instead.

Best birthday ever indeed.

Happy Birthday to our sweetest and precious Flame Pillar ♡

I love him so much that it hurts sobs ;; i’d sell my soul to muzan to have him back

[adenei]

Auror 99 - Epilogue

I hope you’re all ready for this! It’s heist time!

AO3 || FFN

a/n: I based this off of the season 3 heist, and some of the plot points and a few lines are taken directly from the show. I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Brooklyn 99. Thanks for following this crazy story!

Epilogue: The Heist

“Captain Holt,” Kingsley said after apparating directly into his office. 

“Ah, King, you made it,” Holt said, looking at his watch. “Right on time, too.”

“Yes, well, it wasn’t easy transporting a large portrait under a disillusionment charm from England to the United States,” Kingsley commented. “Care to fill me in now that we’re in person? Your correspondence gave away very little.”

“I can, but I don’t have much time before the squad arrives for their shift,” Holt said. “You may place the portrait on that easel over there. It is an honor to make your acquaintance,” he nodded to the portrait.

“And yours as well. While I don’t wish to speak poorly of my permanent residence, it is nice to leave the wall of the Headmistress’ office.” The voice of Albus Dumbledore could be heard through the Disillusionment charm Kingsley had placed on the frame.

“What about your other portraits, Albus?” Kingsley asked in confusion of his statement.

“Ah, yes, I do travel to those occasionally as well, but this may be my only opportunity to ever travel outside England. Though, I believe Captain Holt is pressed for time and would like to have a word before you must take your leave,” Dumbledore observed.

“Thank you, Albus,” Holt said before turning to Kingsley. “For the last two years, Detective Peralta and I have engaged in a ridiculous Halloween bet, now known as the Halloween Heist. Normally, I don’t engage in such frivolous antics. However, we are currently tied 1-1, and I intend on winning the tiebreaker and putting an end to this, once and for all.”

“I see, but what does this have to do with Albus’ portrait?” Kingsley asked.

“Ah, yes. Ever since your team left following the closing of Gerteso’s case, I planted the seed in Peralta’s mind for him to contact Nolan about returning to help him win.”

“So you think Nolan is going to be here today?” Kingsley said. “Now that I think about it, he and Jason did take the day off…” 

A wicked grin spread across Holt’s face. “Just as I predicted. Now, I’ve positioned the easel for Albus’ portrait so that he can observe everything that’s happening in the precinct, unbeknownst to anyone.”

“I will do my best, but I must say my lip reading skills are not up to snuff,” Albus admitted with a chuckle. 

“There will be no need for lip reading,” Holt said as he made his way back over to his desk and pointed to a contraption that looked like a radio. “I planted a bug on Peralta’s desk, so you should be able to hear the conversations without any issue.”

Albus nodded as Kingsley interjected. “Well, good luck to you. I’ll be taking my leave now, and will be back in the morning to retrieve the portrait.”

Holt nodded, as Kingsley disapparated. 

~o~

“It’s the best day of the year!” Peralta said excitedly as the squad gathered in the briefing room for their meeting. “The day we can finally determine once and for all who is the amazingest ‘amazing detective/genius!’”

“Yes, which we both know will be me,” Holt retorted. “This year, we will both be attempting to steal the same item. This—” he held up a briefcase and opened it to reveal a gold crown, “will be locked away in the interrogation room. The case itself cuffed to the table. We decided to use a neutral object this year instead of Peralta trying to steal something of mine.”

“Yeah, and whoever is in possession of the crown at midnight will be crowned the amazing detective/genius. Which will be me,” he added with a fake cough.

Holt shook his head in mock annoyance. “We will see about that. Now, as for teams: we each can choose who we want to work with, and as I was the victor last year, I’ll choose first.”

“I guess that’s only fair,” Jake said, rolling his eyes, and pretending to be affronted.

“I choose Terry,” Holt said swiftly.

“Alright, alright, brawns over brains. I get it,” Jake commented.

“What?” Terry asked, but Jake ignored him as he made his own pick.

“Charles,” he said. 

He didn’t notice that Amy almost stood up with a smug look on her face, only for it to fall slightly as he chose his best friend over his girlfriend. Amy looked to Holt in anticipation next. Maybe he’d choose her instead.

“Yes! The dream team rides again!” Charles said, pumping his fist in the air.

“Gina,” Holt said automatically, as Gina stood up and joined the captain.

“Rosa!” Jake said.

“Dope,” Rosa said as Amy exclaimed,

“What?!”

“Sorry, Ames, I can’t trust you. You’ll do anything to please Captain Holt,” Jake explained his reasoning.

“Well, fine, maybe I wanted to be on Captain Holt’s team anyway,” Amy said, trying to hide the look of hurt on her face.

Holt held up his hand. “Sorry Santiago, I can’t trust you either, given your current relations with Detective Peralta.

“Wait, so nobody wants me?” Amy asked. Both Jake and Holt looked at each other awkwardly and shook their heads.

“You can be with us!” Hitchcock said happily. Everyone forgot he and Scully were still sitting in the back.

“Um, I’m good,” Amy said.

“Uh, yeah no,” Jake added. “Let the heist begin!” he said as he ran out of the room quickly to meet with his team. 

“Charles, you guard the case from the viewing room. I guarantee that Holt will send Gina in there. Rosa, you know what you have to do,” Jake said as Rosa nodded and Charles took off.

Jake pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. Heist has begun. You know the drill. He pressed send and looked up to find Amy standing in front of him.

“Oh! Hey Ames, what’s up?” he asked.

She looked at him suspiciously. “Who were you just texting?” 

“Me? Texting? Oh, just Charles. You know, making sure he made it to his post alright.” Jake shoved his phone in his pocket.

Amy squinted her eyes at him in question, but didn’t argue. “Listen, Jake, you really hurt my feelings back there.”

“I didn’t mean to, Ames. You know how important this is to me.”

“So you know I want to help, then! Let me help, Jake, we’ll be unstoppable! Just give me a chance.”

“Sorry Ames, but I can’t,” Jake said. His eyes shifted down. “Nice try, Captain, but I’m not going to fall for your games this time. Your little spy is not getting any information out of me.”

“Jake, why are you talking to my breasts?” Amy asked with a disgusted look on her face.

“Because you’re obviously wearing a wire,” he said in the most ridiculous way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got paperwork to do,” Jake said as he turned around and sat down at his desk. 

Meanwhile, Amy walked over to Captain Holt’s office and knocked on the door. 

“Come in, Santiago,” Holt called. Sergeant Jeffords and I were just finishing up here.” He nodded to Terry who gave him an unsure look, but walked out of the room, having been dismissed.

Amy hovered in the doorway. She wanted Jake to hear how Holt would gladly use her help for the heist to stick it to him. “Captain Holt, I really want to make Jake pay for not choosing to have me on his team. I’m yours, do with me what you please,” she pleaded to Holt.

“—Title of your sex tape!” she heard Jake call from his desk.

“I’m sorry, Santiago, but I have no use for you this year. You’re too much of a risk, and I can’t have a late addition ruin everything. I will reign supreme,” Holt said.

“But Captain—” Amy tried to interject.

“You’re dismissed, Santiago,” Holt said with finality. He shut his door and walked over to his desk as Amy sulked to hers.

“She’s telling the truth, you know,” Albus said from his perch from the corner.

“Maybe that’s the case, but I’ve already planned every step precisely and nothing will go wrong,” Holt said.

“Be that as it may, Captain Holt. I know I am only a portrait of my former self, but I assure you I can sense when shenanigans are afoot.”

“What does Peralta have planned? Did you see anything while I was speaking with Jeffords?”

“No, no. I only sensed there may be an additional person in the precinct,” Albus said as his eyes looked above him.

“HA! I knew he’d enlist Cooper and Brown. He’s falling right into my trap.”

~o~

“Charles, you can keep trying to distract me, but you’ll never win. How’s it feel to be on the losing team,” Gina taunted him.

“Come on, Gina, I promise you won’t be disappointed this time!” Charles argued.

“No, Charles! I will not be set up on another blind date with a Boyle cousin. I respect myself too much,” Gina argued. “This body is a shrine and I have standards to uphold.”

Charles looked up and saw Rosa’s face appear in the window for a split second. That was his cue. “It’s not a Boyle cousin! It’s a recommendation from Genevieve. Here, Gina, look! I have a picture of him. Just let me find it,” he said as he dug into his pockets. He pulled the picture out and let it slip out of his hands, falling to the floor.

“Could you be any clumsier, Charles? GOD!” Gina exclaimed. 

She looked down and saw that the picture was of a very attractive looking man. She bent over to pick the photograph up, and Charles used that moment to give the thumbs up. A split second later, decoy detonators were running rampant around the floor. This caused Gina to scream and jump up on the table as the figures were scurrying around making loud noises.

“Charles, do something! What are those things! They’re going to kill us! Charles!” Gina yelled dramatically.

While this diversion was taking place, Rosa was working swiftly to unlock the door to the interrogation room. When it didn’t work, she broke the glass on the window, and then somersaulted through, meeting Ron, who had apparated into the room. Rosa moved over to the briefcase and began cutting into the leather as Ron reached into his pocket and grabbed Peruvian Darkness Powder. He tossed it toward the window and it immediately exploded, covering the area in complete darkness. He used his wand to control the spread of the powder so it isolated itself in front of the window.

  “We’ve got two minutes before this starts to weaken,” Ron told her. 

“Got it,” Rosa said, the crown in her hands. She flipped over the briefcase and zipped her jacket, stuffing the crown inside. “We’re good,” she said gruffly. “Wait for phase two in the evidence room.” 

Ron nodded as Rosa slipped out of the door. He waved his wand to repair the shattered glass, and flipped the briefcase over, repairing the hole Rosa cut as well. He noticed the powder starting to fade and apparated back to the evidence room.

~o~

Holt remained in his office, pretending to be nonplussed by the ongoing heist, and attempted to focus on his paperwork. Terry knocked on his door and came in.

“Hey, Captain, do you have any idea when I should tell Sharon to come in. The twins are almost done trick or treating, and I’m not sure she can hold them off much—” Holt cut Terry off with a raise of his hand.

“Shhh,” he said as he turned his radio up slightly to better hear Jake’s voice.

“Great! Now, all I have to do is sit here and guard this filing cabinet until midnight. Hello, victory!”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Rosa said indifferently as she walked away.

“Now, Terry, call her now. It is time,” Holt said.

“Uh, okay,” Terry said as he left Holt’s office. 

Holt watched Terry go, and waited for his wife and kids to enter through the elevator to take his leave from the office.

“Hey, girls!” Holt heard Jake said happily as he slipped out onto the terrace. 

He picked up his drill from the hiding spot and waited for Jake to be appropriately distracted. Stealthily, he moved towards the filing cabinet and unscrewed the back. Holt slipped the crown out, replaced the back and stood up to photobomb one of the shots before escaping into the breakroom. 

Pretending to be interested in the snack table, he noticed Amy nod to the breakroom and Jake looked over and saw him alone. He quickly disposed of the crown in the garbage can, and grabbed a handful of cheese puffs. I knew I couldn’t trust Santiago, he thought to himself.

“Since when do you eat cheese puffs?” Jake asked as he strolled in.

“If you must know, Peralta, they are one of my—” Holt paused briefly, “guilty pleasures.”

“Maybe I’m rubbing off on you after all,” Jake said with a laugh. “Quick, let’s see how many we can fit in our mouths at one time!” he said.

“I’ll...pass,” Holt said.

“Wait a minute, if they’re your guilty pleasure, why aren’t you eating any?” Jake crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I was going to enjoy them in my office,” Holt said quickly. 

“A-huh, well after you, then,” Jake said, gesturing to the door.

Holt had no choice but to follow him out and return to his office as Jake returned to his desk, petting the filing cabinet as he sat down. Jake pretended to get back to work, but pulled out his phone and typed out a message. Pretty sure Holt took crown. In breakroom. Initiate phase two.

After he returned his phone to his pocket, he noticed Charles walking over to his desk. “Charles! What are you doing? You’re supposed to be guarding the crown!”

“I’m sorry, Jake! You know I’d never betray you,” Charles said quickly.

“Why do I sense there’s a but?” Jake asked suspiciously.

“Because there is one! Come on, Jake, I thought you were smarter than that,” Gina chimed in with a guffawed voice.

“Gina? Where’d you come from? Nevermind. Charles, why aren’t you watching the briefcase?” Jake asked again.

“Well, Jakey, Gina agreed to go on a date with Nadia! But I had to leave the briefcase unattended…”

“Charles!” Jake said as his hands reached up to pull his hair.

“Jake, you can stop the act. I know the crown was obviously taken from the briefcase.” Gina told him.

“What?” Jake tried to play it off like he had no idea what Gina was talking about, but his facial expression was traitorous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t been to the interrogation room at all!”

“Drop the act, Jake. I’m Gina Linetti and I know everything. Did you really think that distraction worked? I knew exactly what you were doing. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

“What’s all this?” Captain Holt asked as he walked out of his office. “Last time I checked this is a precinct, not daytime television drama!”

“Sir, Gina is wrongfully accusing me of taking the crown!” Jake defended.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem, Peralta. Where’s the lie?” Holt asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Jake’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water before he dropped the act. “Okay, fine, we have it, but you’ll never find it!” he admitted with an air of superiority. His hand immediately went to lean on the filing cabinet, pretending it was still there. 

Captain Holt let out an abrupt laugh. “In the top drawer of your filing cabinet? Please, Peralta, you’re playing like an amateur.”

“Would I really put the most beloved object of this life changing event in such a normal place?” Jake retorted.

“Why don’t you open the top drawer and let us all see.”

“Well, fine, if you must check…” Jake opened the top drawer, revealing an empty spot. Feigning shock, he looked up at Holt, then at everyone who was standing around. “Rosa! It’s gone. Where did it go? Tell me you borrowed it!”

Rosa had joined the circle now. “Why would I take it? That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“But then where did it go?” Jake looked at Holt. “There’s no way you could have stolen it. I’ve been at my desk the entire time.”

“Ah, yes, you’ve been here, but you allow yourself to be distracted far too easily, Peralta,” Holt said as he pulled out his phone. 

After a few clicks of the touchscreen he held out the phone for Jake to see. Sharon had sent him the picture she’d taken of Jake and the kids, with Holt photobombing with the crown in the background.

“Dammit! I should have known you’d use Terry’s girls to distract me. Not cool, Captain, not cool.” Jake shook his head, before looking up. “But wait, you were in the breakroom right after that!” He looked at Charles and Rosa before continuing, “Holt stashed the crown in the breakroom!”

The group made their way over quickly, each team trying to beat the other in an attempt to regain possession of the crown. Jake stopped abruptly at the head of the pack, causing everyone to run into him and each other. “Wait!” he turned to Holt. “That means you lied to me about the cheese puffs! That hurts, Da—I mean, Captain. I thought we were bonding over junk food.”

“Peralta, do you really think I would consume that cancerous trash?” Holt asked loftily.

“Well, that sounds a bit harsh,” Jake said, but then shook his head. “Where is it?” 

Holt walked over to the garbage can. “I had to stash it somewhere quickly so you wouldn’t see. So naturally, I placed it here,” he said, gesturing to the trash. “And now, I can retrieve it and keep it in my possession for the last hour. Looks like I have outsmarted you once more, Peral—” Holt cut off because as he lifted the lid off of the garbage can, he realized the crown was missing.

“What’s wrong?” Charles asked.

“It’s not there. It’s not there! Peralta, what’d you do with the crown? I know you took it!” 

“How could I have taken it? I was at my desk the entire time after we both left. It’s not like I can use magic or anything,” Jake said with a laugh. He didn’t realize what had slipped out of his mouth until he saw the look on Charles’ face. “I mean, obviously, magic doesn’t exist, duh…”

“Peralta, you’re not fooling anyone! I know you’ve got Cooper and Brown lurking around the precinct somewhere, helping with your plan. Did you really think you could hide that from me?”

“What?! I don’t know what you’re talking a—” 

“Peralta! Get them out here. Now.” 

Jake let out a sigh. “Fine. How’d you know?” 

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message. Jig is up. Holt knows. Come back to the breakroom.

“How did I know? I practically gave you the idea to call them back! ‘You must miss your British friends. It’s a shame you can’t collaborate with them on anything else,’” Holt mimicked the words Jake remembered hearing more than once since the Gerteso case closed.

“Aw, man! You and your reverse psychology. Come on, Captain! Why do you always have to play the weird mind games?”

“Maybe you should put your detective skills to better use, and pick up on it, then,” Holt clapped back. “Ah, Brown! Cooper! So nice of you to join our heist. Though I’m sorry to say you’ve found yourself on the losing team.” 

Harry and Ron both walked through the door and began exchanging greetings with everyone. “Wait, losing team? You just said yourself you didn’t know where the crown went!” Jake interrupted.

“And you seemed just as shocked as I was,” Holt commented.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Charles interjected. “Where is the crown? Who’s telling the truth?”

“Sergeant Jeffords?” Holt said, looking at Terry.

“Uh, sorry Captain, I got tied up with Sharon and the girls.” Terry shrugged.

“WHAT?!” Captain Holt shouted. 

“Ha ha!” Jake pumped his fist in the air. “Looks like you’re going to lose after all, Captain! Nolan and Jason here did what Terry couldn’t. Better choose wiselier next time!”

“Er, Jake, we don’t have it either,” Ron admitted. 

Jake’s premature celebrations were cut short. “What?”

“I snuck in to get it, but it was already gone,” Harry explained.

Jake’s furrowed brow quickly turned up and a smile plastered on his face. “Ah, I see what you’re doing. Very clever! Make them think we don’t have it. Don’t worry, Cooper, it’s hidden well enough so Holt we’ll never find it!” 

“No, really, Jake. We don’t have it,” Ron’s face was completely serious.

“But then—” Jake looked at Holt. “Who took it?”

“Check the security tapes!” Rosa said.

“Yes, quickly, we don’t have a lot of time!” Holt said.

The group moved around to the computers that had the security footage on it while Holt slipped into his office quickly. He pretended to shuffle papers on his desk, his back to the door as he asked, “Did you see anyone enter the breakroom?”

Albus spoke slowly. “I did see someone enter, but the scuffle of your squad blocked most of my view.”

Holt shook his head. “I should have anticipated the layout of the precinct.”

“I am sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance. I did see Harry and Ronald try and retrieve the crown, and their look of concern when it wasn’t there, however.”

“Harry and—oh, you mean Jason and Nolan. My apologies, I do try to forget their true identities. I must pretend I do not know of their existence, or I risk getting Kingsley into a deal of trouble.”

“Captain Holt, they found some—” Harry walked into the room followed closely by Ron. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one. Didn’t your superiors teach you to knock when entering a room?” Holt said quickly. 

“The door was open,” Ron said quickly. “What’s in the corner over there, Jason?”

“Nothing that pertains to you,” Holt said.

“It’s a disillusionment charm. Is someone there? Kingsley? Jake said you might enlist his help,” Ron said suspiciously.

“Now, now, boys, I can assure you I am not Minister Shacklebolt, but he did answer Captain Holt’s request for assistance,” came Dumbledore’s voice from the invisible spot in the corner.

“Professor Dumbledore?!” both boys gasped.

“Only in portrait form. You’ll never believe the lengths Kingsley had to go to in order to get Minerva to oblige. It’s been a nice vacation.”

Ron broke out into laughter. “Well played, Captain Holt. It’s a shame Jake can’t know.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure your reunion can continue later, but did you not say evidence has been uncovered?”

“Oh, yeah, let’s go,” Ron said as Harry and Holt followed.

“What janitor was on tonight?” Rosa asked.

“Should we check the dumpsters?” Charles suggested.

“What is this?” Captain Holt cut in.

“A janitor emptied the trash shortly after you put the crown there! Look, there’s a name tag.” Jake pointed to the screen.

“It says ‘Al’,” Harry pointed out.

“Does anyone know an Al?” Captain Holt asked to a sea of shaking heads.

“Someone has to know..” Charles thought out loud.

“The late night cleaner shift would have ended fifteen minutes ago,” Terry reminded them. “So Al’s not even here.”

“How are we supposed to find him, then?” Gina asked.

“Where’s the directory?” Holt said, looking at Gina.

“That? I threw it out.” Gina said unapologetically.

“Gina—” Terry was about to scold her for not holding onto important documents.

“Wait a minute,” Rosa cut in, “Who sends Christmas cards to everyone in the office?”

“Amy!” Jake said, immediately moving over to her desk. “A ha!” His finger skimmed the list of names and addresses. He secretly loved her organizational skills and knack for keeping things orderly. “Here it is!”

“How much time do we have?” Holt asked.

“Thirty minutes,” Charles said, checking his watch.

“His apartment’s only seven blocks away, we can make it!” Jake said. 

He froze briefly as he and Captain Holt both stared at each other. In a split second, they were both running for the elevator, followed by the other members of their teams. The group of eight ran the entire distance to the janitor’s apartment and quickly entered the building.

“The elevator’s broken!” Charles exclaimed as Jake was gasping for air, incredibly out of breath.

“How many...floors?” he asked between breaths.

“Seventeen,” Rosa said with an eye roll.

Holt and Jake shared another brief look before the race continued up seventeen flights of stairs. The rest of the teams followed closely behind. By the time they reached the seventeenth floor, Jake checked his watch.

“Ha! Ten minutes to spare. My lungs are on fire.” Jake said as he knocked on Al’s apartment door. 

A woman answered, looking rather annoyed.

“Hello, Ma’am,” Captain Holt said, cutting Jake’s greeting off. “Does Al live here? May we speak to him?”

“It’s really important. Will only take a second,” Jake added as the rest of the group was appearing now.

“He’s not here,” the woman said. “He went up to the roof.”

“What?” Jake asked, now leaning against the door jamb. 

“Sorry. If you want to talk to him, you’ll have to go up there.” The woman shut the door in their faces.

“That’s another fourteen flights of stairs,” Holt said.

“I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die,” Jake said dramatically.

“Good, you stay here and recover and I’ll go speak to Al,” Holt said as he started back towards the stairs.

“Not a chance!” Jake said, rallying his energy.

Eight minutes later, Jake and Holt burst through the door to the rooftop. “I...did it….was here….first!” Jake managed to say before he retched to the side. 

He was able to make it a few more paces as Holt called for Al. Jake threw up a second time as they looked around. 

“There’s no Al here,” came a voice. Someone in the same janitor’s outfit appeared from behind a corner.

“Ah, no! Ames, what are you doing?” Jake asked, clearly surprised.

“I’m here to tell you that neither of you won the heist this year.”

“Wait, what?” Rosa called as the rest of the group appeared through the doorway and came up behind Holt and Jake.

“This is preposterous! You don’t have the crown. Al does. Where is he?”

“It was me all along,” Amy said triumphantly.

“What do you mean?” Jake asked.

“Did you really think I wasn’t expecting the two of you to cast me off to the side this year? I used that to my advantage to take you both down.”

“What do you—” Jake started to say.

“For the past three months I made sure to drop hints of how much Captain Holt’s approval means to me whenever you’d bring up the heist,” she said to Jake, but quickly acknowledged Holt. “Which I do, by the way!”

Jake rolled his eyes. “That’s no different than normal. So what?”

“And I’d also manage to slip in a few words to Captain Holt about how well our relationship is going, so he’d think I’m more loyal to you,” Amy said as she nodded to Jake.

“But...you are, aren’t you?” Jake asked.

“Really? You’re asking me that when you wouldn’t even divulge any details of your plans?”

“And you wonder why I said I couldn’t trust you,” Jake mumbled.

“Can someone please explain what’s going on?” Terry cut in.

“I’m getting there, Sarge,” Amy said as she looked over to the rest of the group. “Oh, hey Nolan. Hey, Jason. I knew you’d call them in,” she said to Jake.

“No you didn’t,” Jake protested.

“Really? Then care to explain why else you’d wake up early in the morning and I’d hear you giggling at text message conversations? Did you really think I had no idea you’d included them in the whole thing? Honestly, it’s a little insulting. And how did you two get away from your wives for the day?” Amy asked.

Harry and Ron both looked guilty. “Er, we told them we were on a mission,” Ron said.

“...And you really think we believed that?” Hermione walked out from the same area Amy was hiding, followed by a second person.

Ron and Harry were white as a sheet. “Oh yeah, I called your wives in. Turns out Charlotte and Nolan are married, they just didn’t want us to know. And this is Lucy, Jason’s wife. Charlotte suggested she join our team.

“It’s about time I got to meet you all,” Ginny said with a genuine smile on her face. “It’s a shame, really, Jason. I could have been such a vital part of your team, but I guess you haven’t bothered to tell your American friends about me, have you?”

“It was a mission before. We don’t talk personal on missions,” Harry said through gritted teeth, worried she was going to give something away. Ginny shot him a look that said, ‘I’m not stupid, so bugger off.’

“Guys, come on, it’s late. Heists are dumb, anyways. Can we wrap this up?” Terry complained.

“Yes, I am quite interested in how Santiago pulled this off,” Holt chimed in.

“Right,” Amy said. “You’ve already heard the first part of my plan, which was to get both of you to not trust me for your teams. Once I knew Jake was bringing in Jason and Nolan, I recruited Charlotte and Lucy. Charlotte was staking out the opposite end of the hallway by the interrogation room and was keeping me updated on Jake’s plan, since we all know he has to make a move first..at least for the heists, anyways. But it was when I was playing the ‘hurt’ card and talking to Jake when I noticed Captain Holt was speaking at his desk, so I asked Lucy to investigate.”

“I crawled through the air ducts to find out what was going on. Turns out Holt had an extra spy of his own,” Ginny explained.

“I knew you’d call King!” Jake exclaimed.

“It wasn’t King. He used King’s connections to get a very important device to help spy on us. One that could see, hear, and talk to, but no one else could see.” Amy was being careful not to give the identity of the magic portrait away. She knew it was Dumbledore’s portrait, but Holt, Terry and Gina couldn’t know.

“No!” Jake shouted. He looked at Harry and Ron, who nodded. He’d sent them into Holt’s office to figure out who he was consulting, and they managed to slip him a text, telling him who it was. “Okay, Captain. I have to admit, that was a solid idea.”

“Thank you,” Holt said as he nodded.

“Anyways, Lucy also heard about Holt’s plan when he told Terry how he was going to steal the crown from your cabinet. You actually made it quite easy for me to get to it,” Amy commented.

“So you dressed up as Al and emptied the garbage,” Jake finished.

“Exactly. I knew you’d watch the security footage and use my address book to find Al’s address. Luckily, his wife was willing to play along in our charade. I did have more planned for Charlotte and Lucy, but you just made it too easy for us, so we’ve been celebrating our victory instead.”

“But then where is the crown now?” Holt asked.

“At Shaw’s, where my inauguration as ‘amazing detective/genius’ will be held,” Amy answered.

“Man, Ames, I love you. I’m impressed,” Jake said. It took him a moment to realize what he’d said.

“You—you do?” Amy asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

“What?” Jake asked, still not fully understanding what just happened.

Charles was squealing like a little girl in the background. “Jake just told Amy he loved her!”

“Oh, yeah, I guess I did,” Jake said with an awkward laugh.

“Did you mean it?” Amy asked.

“I—yeah, I did,” Jake admitted. 

It wasn’t his intention to tell her how he felt in front of the entire precinct as well as his wizard friends, but it was too late now. Amy’s face broke into a sweet smile and it looked like she was trying not to cry. “Aw, I love you too, Jake.”

He walked over and kissed her as everyone whooped and cheered. When he broke apart, she looked him squarely in the eyes. “Don’t think for a second I’m giving you that crown,” she said fiercely.

Everyone laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You won, fair and square. Could you carry me down to the first floor, though? I don’t think my legs can walk back down thirty one flights of stairs.”

Amy, Charlotte and Lucy all laughed. “What’s so funny?” Ron asked.

“I forgot to tell you. The elevator isn’t broken! We just put a sign up to make you take the stairs. We knew it’d buy us enough time until midnight,” Amy said with a triumphant smile on her face.

“My girlfriend’s evil and I love it,” Jake said. 

“Can we get to Shaw’s now?” Rosa asked, trying to push things along.

“To Shaw’s!” Jake agreed, as they all made their way to the elevator.

~o~

“All hail the crown of destiny!” Jake said as he placed the crown on Amy’s head. “And she who wears it. Amy Santiago, the—”

“Queen!” Amy interjected.

“—Queen of the 99,” Jake finished.

“And?” Amy asked, waiting patiently.

Holt and Jake both inhaled before saying, “Amy Santiago is an amazing detective/genius.”

Everyone clapped and enjoyed their drinks. Ron leaned over to Hermione and said, “So, how much trouble are we in for lying?”

“I think we can let it slide, considering we won,” Hermione said as she nodded to Ginny.

“Er, Lucy, where are the kids?” Harry asked.

“Bill and Fleur have them,” Ginny said, “And George and Angelina took Rose and Hugo.”

Harry and Ron nodded as Ron changed the subject, satisfied the kids were in good hands. Not that he’d have anything to worry about with his family on standby. “Nice of them to include us in this, yeah?” 

“Yes, it’s nice to see them again. Though, we shouldn’t make this regular. We’re already pushing it with how much they know,” Hermione chided.

“You’re probably right. It’s a shame Dumbledore can’t join us,” Harry said.

“Oh, yeah, have Holt walk right in with his portrait. Wouldn’t that be a sight!” Ron sniggered.

“I already messaged Kingsley, telling him we knew about his involvement, and he’s free to pick the portrait up,” Harry said.

“I can’t believe McGonagall even agreed to it!” Ginny added.

The conversation shifted as members from the squad came over and joined them. It was a happy reunion of the two teams, even knowing they couldn’t make a habit of it. The trio resolved to enjoy the night before returning back to England in the morning as they sipped on their drinks. Jake was filling Ginny in on the things Harry neglected to tell her about their time in New York City a few months back, including the infamous precinct chant. As if on cue, Ginny got to witness the chant firsthand.

Terry held up his glass and yelled, “NINE-NINE!” 

“NINE-NINE!”