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babyflossy · 4 years

Text

eccedentesiast (n)

eccedentesiast (n) someone who hides pain behind a smile

pairing; bodyguard!haechan x reader

summary; haechan is nothing more than someone employed to keep you safe. at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. but why is it so hard to just see him as that?

genre/warnings; bodyguard au, angst (?), fluff, violence, a poisoning, half-edited, also i'm sorry that hyunjin is always my go to for another male lead lmao my skz bias is showing

word count; 7k baby

a/n; after nearly 3 months of writer’s block, i humbly offer you body guard haechan. i’m sorry if it sucks, i’m kinda rusty to get back into writing. any feedback is greatly appreciated!

it’s sunny outside, the golden morning rays of sunlight filtering through the blinds and onto your face. they warm the skin they manage to reach and you bask in the calmness, wrapped in soft bedsheets and silk bedclothes. if you squint into the light you can see the dust particles float around the beams, slowly swimming through around the window frame. the first noise you hear is a bird singing softly outside and a thought in the back of your mind reminds you it’s almost too peaceful. there must be a meeting going on downstairs, one you’re not trusted to appear at.

a knock on your door brings you back to reality and a sigh claws its way up your throat. your father’s personal assistant, sasha, pokes her head around the door and smiles slightly at your bed hair and the mismatched socks poking out the bottom of your duvet. “your father wants you downstairs in five minutes.”

“and what if i don’t?” in an attempt at appearing nonchalant you fix your gaze on the dying plant on your windowsill, refusing to meet her eyes.

“there’s someone you need to meet,” sasha says, piquing your interest and you give up on trying to defy your father’s wishes in favour of your curiosity. “so be down in five minutes, okay?”

the door clicks shut quietly and you check the time on your phone. 10:49am.

finally letting your sigh out and pushing your covers off your cold body, you reach for the first garment of clothing you spot. it’s a purple hoodie you stole from one of your exes and you pull it over your head with a strange sense on loneliness. how long had it been since you had contacted your college friends?

right before you leave the safe confines of your bedroom, a voice floats from the kitchen, one you don’t recognise. it strikes another wave of curiosity through you, this time accompanied by something akin to excitement. the hardwood floors of the hallway are slippery under your socks and you hurry down the stairs to the source of your interest.

whoever you had been expecting, none of them come close to the boy stood next to your dining table. a warm mop of hair sits on top of high cheekbones and tanned skin. the air leaves your lungs momentarily when his eyes meet yours, dark and calculating. you expect him to offer you a polite smile as most of your father’s business partners do, but his face remains in a stern mask. in would be unsettling if you had met in any other circumstances, you’re sure.

“y/n,” the voice of your father forces you to switch your gaze to him and you shoot him a questioning look. it holds no warmth, only looking for answers. “this is haechan,” the boy nods slightly in your direction at the mention of his name, “he’s your new bodyguard.”

you can’t help but let your eyebrows raise comically. that was probably the last thing you were expecting this morning. sure, there had been bodyguards in your past, but none of them stayed very long and you thought your parents had given up on finding one. “bodyguard?” there’s almost a mocking tone to your words and you like the way it makes your father sigh. “i thought you gave up after the last one.”

in the corner of your eyes, you see haechan’s brows quirk the slightest amount in what you think could be amusement. clearly, he has a lot to learn if he thinks he’ll last long.

“there’ve been some rather,” haechan focuses on your dad again as he starts speaking and your glad for the break from his eye contact. “unpleasant things being said about our family at the moment, and we think it’s best to keep an eye on you. so don’t do anything stupid.”

ah, you think, so that’s what he’s doing. this isn’t just to keep you safe, this is a way for your parents to monitor what you do and who you see, a glorified babysitter. that fact doesn’t sit well with you and you make a mental promise to make this as hard as possible for your new caretaker.

with a spark in your eyes you nod at your father and muster up the sweetest smile you can. “of course, father. anything for you.” the change in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed and he sends you a challenging glare which you choose to ignore, instead opting to smile at the taller boy and escape back up to your bedroom.

for the rest of the morning, haechan stands guard outside your bedroom door. as you had fled the thick atmosphere in the kitchen he'd followed behind with quick steps and he wasn't happy at being banished to the hallway. you weren't entirely sure what danger he thought would be lurking around your house at midday on a sunday, but he was on edge regardless.

finally free once again from the eyes of your steadily increasing number of babysitters, you let yourself fall onto your bed.

your own father doesn't trust you enough to live your life without the constant supervision of someone he decides is more credible than you. it hurts. it always does whenever he fails to conceal the way his job is more important than you are to him, his own daughter.

it hurts but you can't let it show. there's something powerful about appearing indifferent to things that are supposed to affect you, but maybe that's just founded on years of your parents missing important milestones. your first dance recital, your first win at a science fair, the first day of high school, the moment you found out about your college scholarship. none of it mattered to them, because nothing you ever did matters to them.

maybe this was an opportunity. an opportunity to get them to care about something more than their questionable business deals.

with a new mindset, you pull yourself away from the plush sheets and change into something other than a hoodie and fluffy socks.

"where are we going?" it's technically the first time you've actually heard haechan say anything to you, and his voice is surprisingly smooth. it's honey-like and velvety and way too appealing to listen to.

"shopping." it's stupid, but as you pass him you can't help but try and speed up, pathetically trying to outwalk him on your way to the garage. there's the distinctive sound of a hushed laugh behind you and the sound catches you off guard for a second. why do you like it so much?

a personal chauffeur drives you and haechan sat in the front seat leaving you alone in the back. the air is still and the silence is almost painful. you type away on your phone just to distract yourself from the fact you don't think you've ever been this quiet for this long before. haechan doesn't seem to notice the awkward tension in the car, however, and busies himself glaring at every car that passes.

for a sunday, the mall is busy and you find yourself stealthily dodging people who get in your way. haechan draws some stares as he follows close behind you, must less scared about bumping into people than you are. it's understandable– the all black get-up he's wearing makes him look a lot more menacing than he did in your family kitchen. along with his height and his inability to break eye contact first, it's quite a scary mix.

after a few minutes of walking in silence, you decide to at least try and make conversation. the one sentence he's said to you doesn't seem like enough for people set to spend all day every day together.

"how long have you been doing this?" the attempt is weak, but haechan seems surprised you've said anything to him. the focus of his stare switches to you and you suddenly feel small under it.

"long enough." before you can ask anything else, the surroundings have once again captured his attention and anything you say is drowned out by the indecipherable chatter around you. the scrutiny he puts everything around him under just from his gaze is admirable, and for a bodyguard, he certainly does tick all the boxes.

you're barely able to contain your sigh as you decide to take a different approach to gain his attention.

the first few shops you drag him into are innocent trips to buy clothes; there's a party you've been invited to in a few months and you have yet to find a suitable outfit. every attempt you make is ignored skillfully, every dress, skirt and pair of short shorts you hold up he pays no attention to.

when you've finally had enough, you spot a lingerie store with a wicked sense of delight.

"you can wait outside for this one," you tease with a smirk and an airy wave. at first, you're sure he's about to protest until he sees what shop you're leading him into and complies, stopping by the entrance to the store. as if to rub it in more, you taunt him once more. "unless you're curious what i wear underneath my clothes?" as you turn to head inside, you swear you see the faintest taint of pink over his tanned cheeks.

over the next few weeks, haechan seems to understand why none of your previous bodyguards have lasted long. it's also clear to him you'll do almost anything just to piss off your father, anything to get a reaction from him. in a way he feels sorry for you, having to go to such extremes for attention only to be shouted at by the one person who should care about you the most.

haechan has also learned to not mention your mother at all in any conversation where she's not present, as it without fail turns whatever mood you're in into a worse one. that's a whole other issue he doesn't want to rush into, however, and usually lets you do whatever you want.

after the first week, you'd finally started warming up to the idea of having him around you all the time. as much as you hated to admit, it was quite nice to have someone around whose primary role was to care about you.

it had been a long day, and it vaguely concerns haechan when you rush into your bedroom faster than usual, letting the door slam shut with a bang.

he doesn't hear anything else from you until after night has fallen and crying seeps into the hallway.

on instinct, it fills him with an anxious sort of unease and he knocks on your door. in the silence of the hallway, it's clear you're surprised to be disturbed as you stop sniffling for a second before opening the door slightly.

"are you okay?" you hear something in his voice that you haven't before; concern. every time haechan's shown worry or apprehension so far it's been in response to your surroundings, to the people around you. hearing such blatant worry for nothing other than your mental wellbeing only makes the tears fall faster and he doesn't know what to do.

all of his previous clients have been strictly physical protection, nothing similar to the struggles that are currently troubling you. with no clue what else to do, he slips in through the small crack in your door and envelopes his arms around you. the action is unexpected and you tense in surprise before melting into his embrace.

after a few minutes stood by the door, you let him pull you back to your bed, sitting against the headboard so you can rest your head in his lap. his fingers scrape gently through over your scalp and you can feel yourself being pulled into sleep.

a nagging thought in the back of your mind reminds you this is haechan, your bodyguard. nothing more, nothing less, just someone your father employed to keep you safe. in your fragile mental state, you decide to let yourself ignore that one night and let someone care for you.

in the morning, neither of mention the events that transpired the night before. you'd woken up to an empty bed, something you were eternally grateful for as you don't think you handle seeing him again so soon. the morning seems to drag on and you take your time getting ready as a distraction.

haechan had seen you in your most vulnerable state, and even though you hadn't told him the reason for your breakdown, you were sure he could probably guess. it seemed every day you and your father would fight about more insignificant things. it pained him to watch, but it wasn't his place to say anything.

when you finally emerge from your bedroom, haechan meets your eyes and offers you a fleeting smile before his features settle into their familiar glare.

life goes on, you suppose.

a rare type of excitement pumps through you as you stare at haechan through the mirror of your dressing table. recently he'd been spending more time sat in your bedroom than stood outside it. it was a nice change, and you felt less alone when you sit to do homework into the early hours of the morning.

currently, he flips through a book he'd picked off your desk and he frowns at it in confusion. "you understand this?" he mumbles as he stares at the words on the page.

with a laugh, you realise he's reading your intro to classical mechanics textbook and stand to take it from his hands. "that's up for debate."

he watches you push yourself onto your tiptoes to put it back on the top shelf and averts his gaze when the dress you're wearing rides up your thighs. it was ridiculous how you'd convinced him to take you to this stupid college party he was sure wouldn't end well, but here is he. "are you nearly ready? you said it starts at eight?"

you choke down another laugh as you stare at the clock, "haechan," you start with a smirk, "i have to be fashionably late. it's part of my brand."

"your what?"

"my brand," at his still confused expression, you turn back around from the mirror to face him again, "i have an image to keep up."

"whatever you say, princess." the new name catches you off guard and you feel your stomach flip. careful to keep your expression neutral, you stand and grab your bag, suddenly wanting to be anywhere other than a confined space with haechan.

a party, as it turns out, is exactly what you need.

the moment your feet cross over the doorframe, you can feel your worries slip away, replaced by the hum of the music. quickly, you spot some of your friends from college and make your way over, a cup already being handed to you. a few people stare as you walk in, something you're used to, but today they stare for longer than usual and it takes a moment to realise they're staring at haechan.

as always, he's dressed in all black, only he's swapped his combat boots and tactical jacket for black sneakers and hoodie. for a college party, he looks too well dressed, but it's appreciated by many as he walks through the room.

it's clear to you he's unused to this type of attention and you grab his hand to pull him to where you and your friends stand. he shoots you a look before, as usual, starting to survey the people around.

"is this your boyfriend?" a short girl from your business class asks, you think her name is lily–or maybe laila. haechan doesn't hear and you're grateful as you shake your head and explain he's your bodyguard. she raises her eyebrows and scans his profile again. the action irks something inside you that you desperately push down. "is he single then?"

the emotion that shoots through you is so obviously jealously and yet you try and remain nonchalant, laughing it off and acting like you didn't want her to be swallowed by the ground. haechan's there for you, not for anyone else, and you want her to know that.

after flitting around the room talking to different people you know, some who you meet for the first time, you can feel the drinks start to take their toll. whoever decided a bottomless bar was a good idea for a party like this was horrendously wrong, and your head spins whilst a boy talks to you about an apprenticeship he's been offered.

"of course, i don't need the money, that's not why i'm doing it." haechan doesn't fail to conceal his surprise, eyebrows raising as he eyes you over the rim of your glass. you send back a look that you hope says he's an asshole, but in your state, you can't be sure how well you've achieved it. "i'm doing it for the experience." when it's appropriate, you nod along to what he's saying but it obvious you don't care and he leaves for someone else soon after.

"what's his problem?" haechan murmurs into your ear. you have to suppress a shiver at the proximity and shrug as you don't trust your voice.

"hyunjin, hey!" you shout when you spot a familiar face in the see of people, shooting through throngs of people to the tall boy. somewhere along the way to the bar, haechan loses sight of you, craning his neck to try and find the direction you escaped to.

hyunjin’s smile is wide and you fail to notice the pleased sweep of his eyes over your exposed chest. as you speak, he slowly moves closer to you, his breath hitting your neck and making you squirm. suddenly the music seems louder, he seems closer and you try to escape his grip when his hands settle on your waist.

you try to move away but you feel your head spin harshly and you have to catch the edge of the bar to stop yourself falling into him.

"you drunk enough." a familiar hand reaches to snatch the martini out of your hand, a frown taking over his soft features.

despite the displeasure on his face, you’re grateful to see him. he recognises the relief in the sigh you let out, and eyes you with concern. just as he’s about to ask you what’s wrong, hyunjin turns back around from the bartender and seems shocks to see haechan so close to you. he clearly doesn’t realise the man beside you is your bodyguard and shoots him a glare. “we were just heading out, actually.” hyunjin grabs hold of your wrist and tugs you towards him and you can’t help but yelp at the sudden movement.

“get your hands off her,” haechan’s voice is stony and almost unrecognisable. you chance a glance to his face and you feel a lick of fear at the cold glare on his face. if you thought he looked intimidating staring at strangers, this overpowers it tenfold. something dangerous shines behind his eyes and he encases hyunjin’s wrist in his hand, tightening his hold until he lets go of you.

“hey, what’s your problem?” hyunjin’s voice is cocky and you pray he shuts up before he digs a deeper whole for himself. “she wants to come home with me.”

“you think she’s in any state to go home with you, huh?” at the words, hyunjin seems to realise what he’s said and tries to backtrack, failing miserably. “leave her alone, yeah? before i throw you out of here.”

it's silent as haechan helps you back to the car, his jaw set in a hard line. you want to say something to ease the tension but you don't want to upset him. it's not your fault, but the cold look on his face is engrained behind you eyelids and you feel a wave of fear flush through you. you shouldn't be scared of him, but he looked so ready to kill hyunjin that you can't help but feel a new sense of unease next to him.

"are you okay?" he crouches next to the passenger seat after buckling your seatbelt for you, features settling back into the warmth you're used to. no matter how hard you try to hide your expression, he can easily see the fear in your eyes and sighs, letting his head drop between his arms. "i'm sorry for scaring you," he rests a hand on your thigh that has you heart rate speeding up despite your thoughts less than five minutes ago. "but it's my job to protect you, okay?" you say nothing in response.

"can we get pizza?" the shops whiz past your eyes as haechan drives, the streetlights blurring together. he shoots you a sideways look before sighing and nodding, trying to ignore the way your victorious smile makes him feel.

"we'll get takeout, okay? you wait in the car."

you would've listened to him, you really would have, if you hadn't seen a small knife drop from his pocket and onto the pavement. if you were sober, you would've just told him when he returned to the car, but in your drunken state, that knife seemed like haechan's most prized possession.

you slip out of the car on shaky legs, noticing the empty streets with fleeting anxiety but bend down to pick the knife up. right above the hand grip a tiny l.h. is engraved and you smile slightly. just as you turn to make your way back to the car, something hard hits the back of your head and you yelp.

haechan stands in the empty pizza shop waiting for the workers to finish your order. he can still feel the remaining wisps of anger from his standoff with that boy you were talking to, but tries to ignore it for your sake. the posters on the wall catch his attention and he reads about the movies showing downtown, mentally noting the ones he knows you will eventually drag him to see.

the workers are rushing around behind the counter and he sighs, excited to get back into the warmth of the car and finally get back to the house.

the excitement drains out of him when he hears a scream. a scream that sounds identical to yours.

he's outside in a flash, eyes shooting every direction to see where the noise came from. the empty passenger seat of the car catches his eye and he swears loudly. reaching for his knife, he stills when he feels the pocket empty, instead grabbing the pistol from the inside of his jacket.

a muffled cry escapes an alley next to the shop and he sprints towards the sound, turning the corner and seeing you being pulled further into the darkness. for a fraction of a second, his eyes meet yours and the teary panic he sees is enough to have him seeing red. the man pulling you back hasn't noticed him yet and he uses this to his advantage, pulling his fist back and launching it at your attacker's face. it's masked and you're unable to see the damage, but a crack rings out.

you feel infinitely more sober than you did in the car and you try to pull yourself out of the man's arms but your head feels heavy and you sway dangerously. your eyes shut as you fall forwards, the man's arm around you stopping you from falling. the angle gives haechan the perfect shot and you scream as a bang rings out, echoing through your head painfully. the arms around you disappear and you lurch forwards until something catches you. you scream again and try and get away from whoever's holding you.

"hey, hey, it's me, it's me." haechan's voice is like music to your ears and you allow yourself to go limp in his grip, sobs starting to wrack your body. you can feel him carrying you back to the car, the pizza long forgotten. when he places you down in the passenger seat again, you don't want to let go of him and he has to pry your hands off him. "you're okay," he whispers as he holds you, rubbing a hand up and down your back soothing. "we're fine."

even if in that moment, everything feels the polar opposite of fine, something about the way he says it makes you want more than anything to believe him.

the walls of your bedroom muffle the voices from downstairs. haechan had carried you upstairs and settled you into your bed before whispering about a debriefing he had to attend. and now here you sit, alone and shaking, reliving the moments you had thought your life may have been over. there's still a throbbing to your head and you will your eyes to shut and for sleep to overtake you, but every time you try the memories bubble back up to the surface. it's exhausting, but you eventually come to terms with knowing you won't be able to sleep until haechan comes back.

the scariest thing is, every time you think about those last few moments before haechan turned up, you really thought you would never see him again. you thought you would never see the daylight again, and yet your thoughts weren't plagued with messages for your parents, or things you wished you had told your friends. no, the only person you thought of was haechan.

you know what that means, but you try and ignore the feeling growing in your chest, turning over and burrowing your head into your pillows.

for the next hour, you slip in and out of shallow sleep as you wait for the meeting to finish. you're somewhere between the two when you hear the door click and your bed dip beside you. haechan must've known you wouldn't be able to sleep and he sits against your headboard like the last time he was in your bed, pulling your head into his lap gently.

"how're you feeling?" the words are whispered into the air and you hate how much his voice calms you.

"my head hurts." haechan pities the pain in your voice and looks down at the awkward angle of you neck, an internal battle waging in his head.

a few long seconds later and he's slipping further into your bed, pulling you up so your head is resting in the crook of his neck. "c'mere." the position is much more comfortable, and you sigh in contentment, trying to ignore the smell of his cologne that's slowly overtaking your senses.

you bask in the silence for a few minutes, trying to fall back asleep before realising you need to tel him what's plaguing your mind. in the safety of his neck, you mumble to try and conserve the peace in the room. "y'know, i really thought i was gonna die back there–"

"stop." haechan reaches one of his arms around your shoulders and pulls you further into him. the act is so gentle, as if you're made of glass and he mumbles his words into the top of your head. "you don't need to do this."

"but i want you to know," with a sense of desperation, you pull away from his embrace to meet his eyes. they're sad, and you know you probably look like a complete wreck right now, but you can't bring yourself to care. the only thing you can focus on is how much you want him to know his importance in your life. "i didn't think of my parents. i thought of y–"

"stop, really. you'll regret doing this." but you can't imagine regretting telling him anything. you've only known him for a few months, and yet you've never held trust in someone like this before.

sick of watching him avoid your gaze, you bury your face back into his neck and smile at the shiver that rolls down his spine when you speak against his skin. "i never liked them. they never cared about anything i did. i only ever wanted to make them proud, but they wouldn't even listen to me."

haechan's in dangerous territory, and he knows it. he can't sit here and insult his employers, but he's seen the way they treat you. as if you've never done anything worthwhile, but they were never there to see your achievements. he battles his thoughts for a few moments, trying to think of the best response. "they do care for you, they just can't show it well." it's weak, even he can tell, but he needs to say something. he wants nothing more than to shelter you from them, take you away from this house and show you what it's like to have someone be proud of you, to care for you wholeheartedly. but he can't, it's stupid to even entertain that thought.

"you care more than they do," the tone you speak with is bitter, and you pull away once again to look up at him. somewhere in the deep brown of his eyes is an emotion you think is something akin to love, but you think you might be imagining it. haechan's paid to be here, you need to remember. "but then i guess you're paid to."

"hey–" this is exactly where he didn't want the conversation to go, because he can't tell you what he really thinks whilst still in the confines of your house, not where your parents could hear every word.

"i'm not wrong, though, am i? you're only here because they're paying you–"

"i would've left if i didn't care."

you sigh and let yourself fall back into his embrace. "i'm gonna pretend like i believe you, just for tonight." no more words are exchanged, but he leans down to press a delicate kiss to the exposed skin on your forehead. the act is so tender, so familiar, you feel tears line your eyes. it's stupid, to cry at being held like this, but in a desolate horizon, haechan is your beaming spark of hope.

another month floats by and you and haechan continue your relationship than slips so easily between professional and something more than. it leaves you confused a lot of the time, but you try and ignore it, instead deciding to focus on the present.

the present right now leaves you stood in front of a fancy restaurant, a booking for you and one of you childhood friends ready and waiting. "i'll be by the door, scream if you need me, okay?" you chuckle at the serious tone of haechan's voice before hurrying over to your table where jennie sits waiting.

the girl stands when you near her, a wide smile taking over her features as she pulls you into a hug "how have you been? i haven't seen you in years!"

over the first course of food, you catch up about each other's lives, chatting about the various things you’ve been involved in recently. after what jennie deems an appropriate amount of time, she shifts her attention to the boy stood behind you.

"is that your boyfriend." her curious eyes scan over haechan who, as promised, stands by the door, staring at his phone. the sight makes you smile as you realise he's probably playing candy crush or some other stupid game to pass the time.

"no," you chuckle, although you would love more than anything to say yes, to be able to sit and claim him as yours, and no one else's. but you can't lie to jennie, as much as you want to. "it's just haechan, my bodyguard." just haechan sounds wrong coming from your lips.

"bodyguard? your dad's still got a lot of enemies, huh?" jennie shoots you a concerned frown which you try and laugh off. out of all the friends you've ever had, jennie's the only one with a somewhat similar upbringing; moving around a lot, feeling as if your parents are absent for more than half of your childhood. you had bonded over your situations in middle school and had kept in touch even when she moved to new zealand for sixth grade.

just as she's telling you about her new job at a fashion company, you blurt out the question bothering you."does the lemonade taste weird to you?" it's metallic almost on your tongue and it catches you off guard.

"no, i think it's just a bit tangy."

"oh, yeah probably" you laugh airily, but a cold wave on unease washes through you. it's unclear what's causing your anxiety, and you're suddenly confused why you're even on edge. on instinct, you look for haechan and seeing him still leaning on the wall by the door gives you a small sense of calm.

"are you sure? you look a bit–" jennie's words are drowned out in your mind by the wheezing of your throat. it's uncomfortable, as if someone is squeezing your lungs, trapping the air out, and preventing you from taking a full breath in.

"yeah, do you think we could step outside for a sec? i think i need some fresh air." the chair scrapes under you but you ignore it and make a beeline for the side door, clean air the only thought on your mind.

"of course, are you sure you're okay." outside, you fail to find the relief you're looking for and try to swallow down the metallic taste. you find it difficult to, however, and you concentrate on the movement as jennie crouches in front of you. you hadn't even realised you'd sat down.

unable to resist any longer, you give up and speak up in a hoarse voice. "can you go get haechan?" jennie nods and disappears for a minute. in the quiet, the only thing you can hear is your laboured breathing and the distant chatter from inside. it sounds like you're underwater, the voices seem so far away, as if you're sinking.

"what's wrong?" haechan's before you in an instant, hands gripping the sides of your face and eyes scanning your body for any obvious injuries. you try to speak but nothing comes out and you feel your legs give way underneath you, sliding down the wall onto the ground.

"i don't know–" the voice that speaks doesn't sound like you're own. it's hoarse and breathless and you can feel yourself losing the strength to speak again.

"she said the drink tasted weird." haechan's blood runs cold at jennie's words. you don't fail to notice the panic in his eyes and it does nothing to calm your now racing heartbeat. you feel a chill come over you and when you reach your hands up to find haechan's they shake violently.

despite the alarm on his face, his voice is calm and authoritative and it reminds you of the first time you had ever heard him speak. you wish fleetingly to go back to that moment, to be able to meet him for the first time again. "call an ambulance."

"what?" jennie's voice is close by but muffled by your own heartbeat that pounds in your ears.

"call an ambulance and tell them she's been poisoned." you feel his arms gently set you onto your side before his words register in your head. “try and breathe for me, princess.” the action is futile and you try so hard to do as he says but your head feels heavier with every feeble motion of your lungs.

“you’re gonna be fine, baby.” it's the last thing you hear before your hearing gives up on you. haechan's hands finally find you own, skin hot against yours, and you try to squeeze them but you can't get your fingers to move. you feel like a statue, watching the scene in front of play out with no strength to do anything.

black spots start toying at the edge of your vision and you feel the ground beneath your shoulder. you're on your side, you think. but you can't remember moving anymore.

haechan's hands remain in yours and you try to take a breath in, feeling your lungs expand weakly before the last little bit of energy drains out of you. the last thing you see is haechan's face, an expression of terror on his face as he shakes your shoulders. his mouth is moving but you can't hear anything he's saying, instead letting the darkness overcome your senses.

it's calming, almost, the warm embrace of sleep. you feel like you haven't slept in years, maybe never. with an empty feeling settling inside you and haechan’s face burning behind your eyelids, you allow yourself to slip into the blackness.

the first thing you're aware of is a warmth over your arm. and then a beeping. and then painfully bright light shining behind your eyelids. the smell of harsh disinfectant fills your nose and you feel starchy sheets underneath your bare legs. an attempt to breathe in leaves you coughing painfully as you realise your lungs feel like they’re made of sandpaper.

the sound awakens haechan from his light sleep, eyes shooting open to find you squinting down at him. everything is too bright and you try to bring a hand up to cover them before finding it covered in wires. you hand is pushed back down and a cup of water is brought to your lips. it feels heavenly against your dry throat and you try to drink more before it's pulled out of your reach.

"hey, hey, slow down," the familiar tone is a welcome change and you find your mind coming up blank as to where you are. haechan smiles down at you, a soft glimmer to his eyes, one you haven't seen in what feels like so long. "the nurse said you shouldn't drink too much yet."

"what happened?" your voice is scratchy and painful to listen to. the boy before you smiles sadly and sits on the edge of the bed after pushing the barrier down. you've managed to work out you're in a hospital, but you're still unable to place the reason behind your visit.

"you were poisoned." the words trigger something in your brain and your memories come flooding back. the lemonade, the confusion, the darkness. it's the second time you've been close to death, and the second time haechan's been the last thought on your mind. you promise yourself you won't let him slip away, not this time.

"i remember," his fingers interlace with yours, thumb rubbing along the back of your hand. "i thought i was gonna die."

"you nearly did," a new voice enters the room and you turn to see a tall woman in a white coat. "and you would have done if it wasn't for this man's quick thinking." she waves a clipboard in haechan's direction and he looks away, embarrassed to be in the spotlight. "the paramedics knew exactly what they were turning up to, cut a lot of time for treatment.” the words make haechan blush.

the doctor stays for a while longer, explaining your treatment plan and adjusting your medications. she gives you some stronger painkillers and says you should be fine to leave after another night of observation.

as soon as you're alone again, you turn to haechan, only to find he's already staring at you. "you know what i'm gonna say." the words are whispered and you let him move up the bed to lie beside you.

"just say it, get it over with." unlike last time, his voice doesn't sound as hopeless and you wonder if he prepared himself for this conversation. it was inevitable, to be fair.

"you were my last thought." haechan's cologne is strong in your nose as you drop your head onto his shoulder. "i wasn't scared about dying, haechan, i was scared about never seeing you again." the tears fill your eyes and you do nothing to stop them falling onto haechan's hoodie.

his shoulder moves when he sighs, an arm wrapping around your shoulders and your taken back to the last time you were sat like this. "i love you, i need you to know that, okay?" it's all you can hope to hear, but you know he hasn't stopped talking yet. "but i don't know if we can do this."

"why can't we just leave?" your voice is pleading and it pulls at haechan's heartstrings. he wants to badly to give in, but the future would be too uncertain.

"your parents would hunt us down."

"then let's flee the country, i don't care–"

"you can't just leave your parents–"

"where are they?" when you had woken up, you hadn't failed to notice their lack of presence and it didn't hurt as much as it should have anymore. a guilt look passes behind haechan's eyes and he doesn't even need to say it for you to understand.

"on a business trip."

"let's just go, haechan. they don't want us here anymore."

the desperate glimmer in your eyes is enough to convince haechan, who knows he would have agreed to it anyway. he would always agree with you. "if you want to. i'll do anything for you princess."

when you turn to face him, the proximity between your faces is significantly less than what you expected and you find your breath hitching in your throat. it catches him off guard as well and you watch his eyes flicker down to your lips and back up to your eyes quickly. you can’t help but smirk as you lean in, resting your free hand on his chest to push yourself up to meet his lips.

the kiss is warm and comforting and everything you need in that moment. he slips a hand around your waist and pulls you closer to him, using his other one to cup your jaw and tilt your head up. the angle allows you to deepen the kiss and haechan sighs into it. a few seconds pass and your lungs are burning for oxygen.

you break away first, resting your forehead against his and drinking in as much air as you can before leaning back into him. right before your lips meet again, you hear the heart rate monitor speed up and your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“why is your heart beating so fast?” haechan teases with a laugh.

“shut up.” you huff out before closing the distance one again and meeting his lips with a new sense of hope filling you.

a/n; thank you so much for reading!! it means a lot to me!!

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write-orflight · 4 years

Text

Galileo: Chapter 5

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev - Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader, enemies to friends to lovers trope

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: Light smut, 18+

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N is an astronomer with her head constantly in the stars. But when a serial killer is threatening NASA’s top scientists, she is left in the protective custody of a man who’s gravitational pull threatens to pull her back down to earth.

A.N Unedited because i’m sleepy. There’s a fic I read when I first joined the fandom that inspired some of this chapter. i can’t remember the name but if you do, please tell me so I can credit. Comment on this chapter only or message to be on taglist please.

Chapter 5: Saturn

There was a rare occurrence that happens sometimes in Space where a Planet will tilt off its axis and disrupt the order of things in the galaxy forever. Even though it hasn’t happened yet, it doesn't make it not possible. You had always thought about that phenomenon and how you never quite understood how so many scientists just blindly believed in that possibility with no proof. It wasn’t until that dance with Spencer that you believed in it. If you were the galaxy, that dance was the tilt in your axis.

Nothing could quite be the same again.

It seemed that Spencer himself was the disruptor.

Since that day, everything between the two of you was different. It was simpler. It was too easy to have conversations, to laugh at each other's jokes, to spit inane useless facts at each other. But it also became too easy to melt at Spencer’s bright smile, too easy to stare at his hands as he helped you with your math sometimes, too easy to flush whenever he paid you a compliment on your work.

Too easy to fall in love with him.

You didn’t want to think about that but you couldn’t help it. At first, you wanted to chalk it up to you not knowing how to differentiate your feelings. Maybe you just thought you were in love with him because he was the first guy to be nice to you since Jonathan but as the days went on you knew that to not be the case. None of this felt like how you were with Jonathan. With Spencer, it just felt easy. Just felt right.

It was the weekend so you had off work. Before you would always end up going into work anyway and getting some extra logs in but now you liked staying in and hanging out with Spencer. Right now the two of you were walking in the plaza near your home, fresh cups of coffee in hand. Spencer, at first, did not want to be out but after some convincing (which was just you threatening to leave without him, which he did not like) he was all for joining you out. The two of you stopped in a bookstore and you made a beeline for the astrology section. You hear Spencer scoff when you pick up a book to look through it. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“What?” You say.

“Astrology, really? Aren’t you a scientist?”

“Yea, an astronomer. I love Space, so while Astrology isn’t a proven science. It’s fun to think the stars have a say in what kinda person you are.” You shrug. “When’s your birthday?”

“October 28th.”

“Of course you’re a Scorpio.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me. Astrology isn’t real.”

“You must be real fun at parties.” You roll your eyes.

“Well, what’s your sign?”

“I’m a Cancer. Did you know that water signs are the most compatible? Especially Scorpios and Cancers.”

Spencer laughs out loud at that. You turn looking him in the eye. “What’s funny?” you say.

“That itself doesn’t tell you that astrology is bullshit?” He laughs. You narrow your eyes at him. “I mean, us, compatible? It’s funny.”

You try. You try so very hard not to look hurt by his words, you know Spencer’s a profiler and will see right through it. And he does by the sympathetic look he gives you.

“You’re right, maybe it is bullshit.” You say, putting the book down instantly. “Let’s go home.”

You and Spencer don’t talk the whole walk home, in fact you don’t talk when you get there. You’re about to just retreat to your room when you feel a hand circle your wrist.

“I’m sorry.” He says.

“You didn’t do anything.”

“I hurt your feelings.” He says.

“You didn’t hurt my feelings.” You lied. “I’m just with you all the time. Sometimes I just need a minute alone. Is that okay?”

He lets go of your wrist. “Of course, I’m sorry.”

You nod and retreat to your room, blowing a heavy breath as you fell into your bed. Might as well take a nap. You thought as you let sleep take you over.

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

Long, slender fingers found their way into your hair and yanked roughly. You couldn’t help the soft whimper that came behind it. You felt the lips that were sucking hard bruising marks into your neck smirk slightly. His other hand trailed your body lightly until they met their final destination at your sex. You gasp loudly when the digit rubbed soft circles around your clit.

“Are you going to be good for me?” He asked, you nodded dumbly before moaning out loud when the first digit found its way inside you. Spencer smirked at you. “Look at you. I’ve barely touched you and you’re this wet for me. You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He asked, you nodded and gasped again as he found that spot inside you. “Hmm, I don’t think you want it enough baby.”

You’re shaking your head immediately. “No. Ple-please fuck me.” You stutter. “I’ll be good, I swear.”

The smirk he gives you is almost devilish. “Alright, baby. I’ll take care of you.” He says as you feel member pressing up against your sex--

You wake up to the smell of something burning and Spencer shouting expletives from what you assumed was the kitchen. You groaned, frustratedly. Since that day your mom came to visit, you dreamed of Spencer almost constantly. Today was no different. You couldn’t escape him in your waking hours and now it seemed you couldn’t even escape him sleeping.

You hop out of bed and run to the kitchen. The sight before is Spencer frantically waving the billowing smoke that was coming from your oven. You run to open your window and turn the oven fan on. You both look at the pan that had something that couldn’t even be described as food anymore by the degree of which it was burned. Spencer looked at you guiltily.

“You seemed upset so I thought I’d make you dinner but I was reading and I lost track of time. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You smile at him. “Thank you for thinking of me but I wanted chinese tonight anyway, sound good?” You say, he nods gratefully.

Later the two of you are sitting at your kitchen table, eating chinese out of the takeaway containers. You were talking about nothing and everything until the topic came to College. You talked about how freshman year you did the whole partying thing before quickly finding out it wasn’t your scene and keeping to yourself for the rest of your college career. Spencer told you he never went to any parties in college.

“You never went to any parties?!” You asked, shocked.

“Well, I was 12. No one was really scrambling to invite me to frat parties.”

“So you didn’t do any traditional college games? No beer pong? No ‘Never Have I Ever’?” You ask, Spencer shakes his head. That’s when you get a fantastic idea. You get up and look in the cabinet above your stove which is where you kept your liquor and pulled out a bottle of Jameson. Spencer sees this and immediately shakes his head.

“No.”

“Aww, come on. Let’s play Never Have I Ever.” You smile. “If you’ve done the thing you drink.”

“I don’t want to play a remedial drinking game.”

You think for a second. “How about this? You’re a profiler, right? And I like to think I’m a little observant so how about this. We’ll take turns making assumptions about the other if the person is right, the other drinks and if they’re wrong, you drink.”

“I don’t know… it probably isn’t wise for me to be drinking. I’m supposed to be watching you.”

“It’s not like we go anywhere that’s not here anyway.” You say. “Plus, if you're good at your job, you’ll hardly have to drink.” You throw a pouty face on for good measure. Spencer rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” He says standing up and snatching the bottle from you, walking to the living room. You giggle at him before grabbing two glasses to follow him out. “Just so you know, it’s wrong to peer pressure people.” He says.

“Well, what’s a college drinking game without peer pressure.” You laugh.

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

“Who’s starting?” You say as you watch Spencer pour your glass. The two of you are settled on opposite ends of your small couch, facing each other, your knees just almost touching.

“You can.” Spencer says. “I want to see if you're actually observant.”

“Okay.” You say, sitting up slightly at the challenge. “You’re an only child.” You say. Spencer raises his eyebrows at you, shocked you actually got something right, but drinks anyway.

Spencer looks at you for a second. “You have an older sibling you are not close to.”

You drank. “Yea I’ve got an adoptive older brother. There’s nothing wrong, it’s just he was already much older when I was born and we have nothing in common, other than our parents.” You look at Spencer for a second. “I wanna say divorced parents, but only raised by one.”

“You’re a lot more observant than I thought.” Spencer says as he drinks. “Dad left when I was 10.” He says offhandedly.

The game goes like this for a while, both of you confirming your beliefs of each other. You find out about Spencer’s mother's illness, Spencer learning you smoke when you’re stressed. Spencer was winning though, not that you had a problem with that as you wanted to drink, hence why you suggested the game. You were giving him a little bit of a run for his money. It was now your turn and the alcohol in your system must’ve turned off your filter because you say.

“You’re a virgin.”

You pause for a second waiting for him to drink when you realize he’s waiting on you to. You widen your eyes in shock but take your drink anyway. “I thought Maeve died before you got to meet her fully.”

Spencer nods. “She did.” He says, “The two don’t correlate.” He says, like it's obvious.

You hadn’t been expecting that. “You just didn’t strike as the hit it and quit it type.”

“And I’m not, but sometimes things are just temporary.” He says looking at you, deeply in your eyes. “You were upset today, in the shop because I said we weren’t compatible.”

You solemnly take a drink. “Why?” He asks.

“Hey, that’s not a part of the game.” You say.

“Please?” He adds.

You sigh. “I don’t know… I guess, it seemed like the idea of being with me repulsed you. And that was upsetting.”

Spencer looks at you with the most intense look in his eye. You had never seen that look before and you were glad you hadn’t because it was so heated that it was melting you where you sat. “The idea of being with you…” He says, eyes flickering down to your lips and back to your eyes. “Doesn’t repulse me. Trust me.”

You knew you weren’t the best at social cues sometimes but that seemed like a pretty big one. You move closer to him, so that your faces were close but someone would still have to make that final move. You realize it’s your turn, so you think, Fuck it...

“You want to kiss me right now.” You say, looking Spencer in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just takes a slow swig from his glass, eyes never leaving yours. He sits his glass down on the table next to him before saying.

“You want me to kiss you.”

You sip your drink, looking him right back in the eyes. You sit your glass down next to his and Spencer's hand catches your wrist on its way back. Before you can even get a good look at him, his lips are crashing on to yours. You groan in surprise before melting into it, your hands immediately going for his hair. His massive hands almost engulf your face as he tries to pull you impossibly close to him. He groans as he licks into your mouth, both of you tasting like the Jameson you had just drunk but there was also something under it that was just pure Spencer. You push him back until you are fully seated in his lap. His hands go immediately to your waist. Feeling risky, you experimentally grind your hips, causing Spencer to groan and grip you tighter. His hands slide up your shirt slightly, you moan at that.

“Fuck-” Spencer says as you suck bruises down his neck. “Fuck, w-we’ve gotta stop.”

You pull back. “Why?” you ask.

Spencer swallows, pushing you off his lap. “There’s this thing called transference. You only want me right now because I’m protecting you. You don’t like me.” He says. “We don’t like each other.”

You realized what Spencer was trying to say. You were both drunk and there, he didn’t really want you. It was being stuck together for so long that was making him attracted to you. You were foolish to think a guy would actually want you.

“You don’t like me.” You say. “And I read this situation wrong again. God, I’m an idiot!”

“I didn’t say that, Y/N-”

“No, you’re right. You only kissed me because I’m what you’ve been stuck with for weeks. You don’t like me. I can’t blame you no guy ever does.”

“No, Y/N, I just didn’t want to take advan--”

“I need to smoke. I’m going out.” You say, grabbing. “Alone.”

“Y/N, that’s not safe and you know it. Let me go with you.”

“I think we both need to be away from each other. I’ll only be out front. Please.” You plead to him.

Spencer doesn’t say anything so you take that as your cue to go. You pull your pack and lighter out the kitchen draw and stomp out the door. As soon as you get in front of the building, you light the first cigarette as stray tears fall down your face. You were such an idiot to think someone like Spencer would want you. Sure you were both smart but you were arrogant and spiteful. Spencer was the sweetest person ever when you got to know him. It was stupid to think there was a world the two of you would work.

You frustratedly put your cigarette out and stand to head back inside to probably embarrass yourself some more when you feel it.

The hard slam to the back of your head knocking you out cold.

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

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338 notes · View notes

min-youngis · 4 years

Text

Boom - p.jm

monkey brain said make a banner on your own u hussy

~ Pairing : Park Jimin x Reader (entrepreneur x software company intern, dance partners au)

ft. Best Friend/Roommate! Jungkook and Brother! Yoongi

~ Genre : Fluff, Humour, a very very very tiny smidgen of Angst

~ Rating : R (some suggestive descriptions, a fair amount of swearing and scary adult themes like money)

~ Summary : When Jimin leaves your little trio at the age of ten when his family moves away, you and Jungkook think that's the end of it, and you're never going to see your best friend again. But cut to twelve years later and suddenly your dance class is home to the prettiest man you've ever seen (again), who happens to be your friend's business partner and also...your new dance partner? Your friends think you're dumb, but you can confirm you're dumber.

Childhood Friends to Strangers to Lovers

~ Wordcount : 29.3k (🤡)

~ Warnings : swearing, some suggestive descriptions, mild alcohol consumption, excruciatingly slow burn, inaccurate depictions of internships and company establishment, emotional constipation, badly dealt with feelings, i-like-attention-but-i-don’t-like-people y/n, people who say please and thank you and excuse me and sorry are really fucking attractive, dissociation as a coping mechanism, overthinking as an instinct

~ A/N : no a/n this time ladies i'm all out of words. this has been two months in the making. muchos gracias to @ghostiemakingposties and @thedorkyfork for helping me figure out the timelines/logistics and making the plot make a semblance of sense :D thank you, that is all, i am ti r e d.

i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!

masterlist in my description.

~~~

2008

“My mom says we’re moving.”

He says it with all the innocence of somebody who’s completely clueless about how permanent a shift like that is, blissfully ignorant in his ten-year-old self. Over the buzzing of a bee somewhere nearby, you can hear a door shut as Jungkook runs into the house, screaming for food.

Squinting against the sunlight that filters in through the rustling canopy overhead, hitting your eyes abruptly every time that one particular leaf moves in the summer breeze, you ask, “Where are we going?”

There’s a quizzical tone in his voice when he replies slowly. “I don’t think you’re coming. Mom didn’t say anything about you coming.”

You turn your head towards him, facing his body that’s mirroring your own, laid out on the grass that smells like summer, hands and legs spread languidly because time is forever and you have nothing to do but breathe and laugh and live. Your messy pigtail pushes into the side of your head painfully, but you ignore the uncomfortable sensation, eyes widening as you fix him with a stare.

“What do you mean, I’m not coming?”

Chewing his lip worriedly, he says, “I think she means we’re moving moving.”

“It’s a scam.”

“It’s a what?”

“A scam,” you repeat decisively, turning back to face the sky, closing your eyes again and feeling powerful as you explain your new found knowledge to an eager crowd of one. “Yoongi taught me. He said that when dad tells him he won’t get dinner unless he washes up after basketball, he’s being scammed and that adults tell lies sometimes to make us do what they want us to do. He said it’s progapanda.” You, Jimin and Jungkook know that your four-years-older-than-you brother knows everything.

“Panda?” Jimin asks doubtfully.

Sagely, you nod. “Yeah. We’re being raised to be brainless machines and slaves to the catapultists.”

“What are catapultists?”

Shrugging, you reply, “No idea. But Yoongi says they’re really bad. Anyway, your mom is probably scamming you. You’re not really moving.”

“No?” he asks, hopeful tilt in his voice.

“Nope,” you blithely respond.

You hear the grass underneath his head faintly rustle as he nods in relieved affirmation, and he goes back to closing his eyes towards the bright sky.

Jimin moving. It’s laughable. Adults, you think ruefully, shifting so you can feel the warm sun on your face. Some things are permanent. Like Mr. Kibum, your dance teacher who’s taught you your entire life, and the flowers that your mom keeps in the vase on top of the shoe rack that look shockingly real for plastic. Like Yoongi's basketball that he got when he was selected for the school team and is too big for you to hold, but with which he taught you how to dribble anyway, and like the large tree in Jungkook’s backyard that you’re lying underneath right now, waiting for him to come back from the house with lemonade.

And like Jimin, who’s just always there. Even when you don’t particularly want him to be, like that one time he had come over when you were crying four years ago because Yoongi was going to middle school and you both wouldn’t be in the same bus anymore. You had been so embarrassed because Yoongi was just standing there and laughing at you, but Jimin had said that he wouldn’t tell anybody and you had believed him, because it’s Jimin.

“And anyway, Kook and I won't let you leave.”

He snickers next to you. “How are you going to stop my mom?”

“We'll cry,” you reply simply, shrugging as much as you can in your laid down position. “I do it all the time to get stuff at home. Yoongi hates it, he calls it my younger sibling privilege, whatever that means.”

He doesn’t sound very convinced when he asks, “Will it work?”

Behind you, you hear the repeated thud of Jungkook running and his mother shouting, “Slow down! You’ll end up spilling it all and I’m not going to make another bottle.”

With a grin at Jimin, you say, “Watch,” as you sit up and turn towards an excitedly jogging Jungkook and as he approaches the tree.

“I have lemonade!” he shouts loudly, lifting the glass bottle up.

But you’re more focused on Mrs. Jeon and the platter full of mini sandwiches she’s holding. The yellow, sunflower shaped digital watch on your wrist reads 12:37 PM, roughly the time at which your mother usually calls whichever house you’ve spent the morning in and asks you to come home for lunch. The plan forms in your brain. Time to show Jimin the power of tears.

“Y/N, dear, your mother just called. She wants you back home after eating this, alright?”

Remembering Mr. Kibum's pre-performance advice (‘Deep breaths. You can’t put on a good show if your head isn’t fastened on tight.’), you summon all your strength and screw up your face, shutting your eyes and squeezing as hard as you can.

“What is she doing with her face?” you hear Jungkook ask. But it doesn’t distract you. You’ve just felt water behind your eyelids.

Opening your eyes wide again, you let your lower lip wobble with practiced precision, chin trembling.

“Oh, Mrs. Jeon, is there no way I could stay for a bit longer? Just ten extra minutes, I promise.”

To your delight, she immediately looks unsure, eyes slightly widening in surprise and concern.

“Oh! – oh, but of course you can. I’ll call your mother right now and let her know. And why don’t you take some of those sandwiches for the road too? There’s no need to cry, sweetheart, you can spend as long as you want here.”

You continue with your act until she’s back in the house and the door swings shut behind her, after which you immediately right your expression, grinning smugly. Grabbing a sandwich, you sit back down and look at a bemused Jungkook and an awed Jimin.

“And that’s how you do it,” you say, satisfied with their reactions and tuning them out as Jimin fills Jungkook in.

For people who have money, adults really are terribly stupid. Jimin moving, you think again, taking a big gulp of lemonade. The thought almost makes you laugh. As if.

2020

“Y/N, could you debug my code real quick?”

“Y/N, I need ten copies of this immediately.”

“Y/N, you’ll need to stay back for a bit today to finish the patch testing.”

You rush from cubicle to cubicle, sharing harried smiles with the other interns that you meet in the hallway, running around like you with equally stressed expressions on their faces. They may have been here a few weeks longer than you, but you doubt they’re having it any easier.

You’re about to slip back into your desk after submitting the copies to Hoseok so you can get started on debugging the code you’ve just been sent, when a ringing voice calls out from the room you’re jogging past.

“Y/N! Come in here for a second, please.”

Immediately, everybody around you freezes. Slowly, they inch away from the door that you’re standing outside. Wide eyed, you meet Hyejin's gaze worriedly from across the room. She looks just about ready to drop the tray of paper coffee cups she’s holding, but tries for an encouraging smile. It comes out more as a grimace. You see pitying stares around you and foolishly wait for a few seconds for some sort of divine intervention, for somebody else who shares your name to get up and enter the room instead.

“Y/N, I don’t have all day!”

From the cubicle on your left, Namjoon hisses, “Go! Before she gets mad.”

Pulling yourself together and squaring your shoulders, you turn and look at the half open door in front of you. A plaque on the wood reads ‘Kim Jennie – Head of Product Development'.

You place your fingers on the handle and hear a fervently muttered prayer from an intern standing behind you. With a deep breath, you plaster a polite smile on your face and push the door open.

“You had called for me?”

“Repeatedly.”

Off to a lovely start, then. You walk over to her desk, stopping when you’re a couple of feet from it. She doesn’t immediately look up from her laptop, choosing to let you stew, no doubt.

You’ve just started subconsciously picking at your nails when she deigns to look at you, slowly removing her glasses and placing them on the desk.

Twice before you’ve been called to her office. The first time was because you were subbing for her sick assistant and had messed up her coffee order. The second was when they needed an intern to sit in at a high profile meeting to shorthand the minutes and you were the nearest one they could find. Both times you had received an earful – the former got you a stern admonishment and the latter an equally strict warning to ‘make it legible, at the very least, if you can manage that’.

You wonder what you’ve done wrong this time. Wracking your brains, you come up empty. You’ve been much too busy with the subjects to fuck up for the queen.

“How has your time here been so far?”

“I'm sorry?” you ask in befuddlement, certain that you’ve misheard her.

There’s a flash of a tiny smile before her mask comes back on.

“I may be firm, but I’m not heartless. Being an intern at this company isn’t easy. I just want to know how you’ve been settling in for the last month.”

Realising that you’re gaping, you hurriedly shut your mouth before clearing your throat and replying, “I’ve been learning a lot and I’m glad to have the exposure.”

“Okay, now give me the non-textbook answer.”

“I’m sorry?” you ask again, simultaneously feeling thrown off and like a damn fool.

“This isn’t college anymore, Y/N. I’m not your professor. I’m your boss, and maybe, some day, your colleague. You’re our newest intern and I know it can get a little intense, so I just want to make sure that you’re comfortable.”

You look at her suspiciously. Is this some kind of sick, twisted test? But you take in her serious but kind eyes and decide that she’s being honest enough. Now or never.

“Can you allow interns to use the fancier copiers? They’re quicker than the ones on the second floor that we use now.”

You get a raised eyebrow and for one, terrifying second, you think she’s going to throw you out of her room, out of the building, out of the company and write an email to all the other software companies in the world telling them not to hire you.

“There is no rule stating that interns can’t use the copiers here. Have you been climbing floors every time you need to copy something?”

Before you can stop yourself, you ask, feeling like a broken record, “I’m sorry?”

She rolls her eyes and you feel like a chastised child. That’ll teach you a lesson about listening to your brother’s best friend.

“Will that be all? Any other...legitimate grievances?”

“Oh no, that’s all. I’ll be – er, going then.”

You get a lazily waving hand in response and consider yourself dismissed as Jennie puts her glasses back on and turns her attention to her laptop screen. About to pull open the door, you stop short as you hear from behind you, “Maybe actually read the company policy instead of talking to Hoseok, yes? Ask my assistant for a pamphlet. I dare say Yeonjun should be able to give you more reliable information.” You can swear you detect an amused smile in her voice.

A few hours later sees you as the centre of attention in a crowd around the coffee machine in the break room, regaling the interns around you with the latest.

“She did that for me too,” Hyejin says once you’ve finished your story, taking another sip of her coffee. “She does it for all the interns but it’s usually batch wise. You probably had to go it alone since you joined late.”

Shrugging, you reply, “Either way, it was terrifying.”

Soobin gives you a soothing pat on your shoulder. “At least that’s done with. Now you’ll only have to talk to her again if you fuck up spectacularly or if you’re really, really good.”

You nod mindlessly, biting off a piece of the canteen sandwich and chewing thoughtfully.

“Hey, Y/N! Managed to get fired before even getting hired?”

You spin around and see Hoseok and Namjoon cackling like a bunch of stupid hyenas along with some other employees. Pushing past a giggling Hyejin, you storm over, seeing red.

“Jung Hoseok. How dare you make me run around the damn building just to get some copies whenI didn’t even have to?”

You’re glaring at him now, looking up at his gleeful face.

“Oh my god, did you ask her about it? What did she say? Fuck, I wish I was there.”

Huffing, you reply with your arms crossed, embarrassed. “She told me to ask Yeonjun for the company policy pamphlet.”

He howls in delight, slapping a grinning Namjoon's back. “Ah, I can’t wait to tell Yoongi about this. He’s gonna have a field day.”

Unamused, you continue glowering at him. To your increasing annoyance, he looks completely unaffected, bringing a hand up to ruffle your hair, giving you flashbacks to when he used to come over to your house to hang out with Yoongi all those years ago. You have to admit, he was a great deal nicer then than he is now, snickering at your fuming expression. You aren’t ten years old anymore.

Narrowing your eyes one last time, you turn around on your heel and begin to walk away.

“Meet at the entrance at six today?”

You don’t verbally reply, still walking and flipping him off over your shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then?”

“Yes,” you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear before you leave the room in the crowd of interns you had entered with. Lunch breaks are only so short and those codes aren’t going to debug themselves.

“You alright?”

“Peachy,” you sigh, rubbing a finger on your temple as you let your head rest on the window next to you.

“It’s intense, isn’t it?” Hoseok asks, eyes focused on the road in front of the car.

“Yeah. I didn’t expect it to be this heavy.”

Attempting for a cheery tone, he replies, “But, hey! A month! That’s great! Most interns usually burn out by then, but you’ve managed to stick around.”

It’s a small consolation and you tell him as much, mindlessly watching the darkening sky as you get closer to home and to dinner and to bed.

“You’re doing well,” he says comfortingly. “Just give it some time. If you got through college, you can get through this.”

“When did you get so wise?” you chuckle, turning your head to see his lips quirk up in a teasing smile.

“When you were off gallivanting on the other side of the country and I was a lowly intern, just like you are now.”

Sputtering, you reply, offended, “I was in college.”

“Yes, that’s what they all say,” he sighs in a mock-patronising tone. “What’s up with your friend, though, Hyejin? She seems cool.”

“She isn’t into you, don’t bother,” you reply shortly, knowing exactly what Hoseok is asking.

“Not what I meant.”

“Hmm, I’m sure. Purest of intentions, yeah?”

Pulling up next to the curb outside your apartment, he crosses his index finger over his heart and replies haughtily, “Now that I know I don’t have a chance, yes, actually.”

You snort, unbuckling your seat belt and twisting around so you can get your bag from the back seat.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, pushing the door open.

He smiles kindly in return as he waves off your gratitude and says instead, “Don’t do any work this weekend. Product rolling week starts on Monday and you’re gonna need all your energy.”

“Is it more intense than usual?”

“Unfortunately so,” he replies through the open door to your standing frame with a grimace. “It's fun work, though. Just tiring.”

Nodding with a sigh, you shut the passenger seat and give Hoseok a wave as he smiles at you and drives away.

You trudge up the stairs, thanking all the higher powers for Jungkook and the fact that he had reached home earlier than you. You don’t think you can handle cooking right now.

“Kook! I’m home!”

You hear an unintelligible, muffled grunt from somewhere inside the house in response as you kick your flats off in the foyer and shut the front door behind you.

Moving inside, you drop your bag on the table and make your way to the utility room from where you had heard Jungkook's voice. You’re greeted by the sight of his sweatpants-clad butt as he ruffles around the open washing machine in front of him, dumping clothes into it from a basket in his arms.

“Is it laundry day already?”

You get an impatient huff in response and a muffled sound emerges. “Every day should be laundry day.”

Snorting, you reply to his face once he’s stood up and cracked his back with a grimace. “We get like three outfits a day at most. What are you going to put in there, your Halloween shrimp costume?”

“I thought we agreed to not mention that!”

He deposits the empty clothes hamper in your tired but accepting arms, gesturing you to place them on the counter behind and you do so, as you laugh, “Now why would I agree to something so stupid?”

“Because you’re stupid.”

“And you’re 22, but you still can’t figure out something more devastating than a middle school comeback, stupid.”

You watch, satisfied, as he sputters for a bit before glaring at you and turning on his heel, walking out of the room.

Grinning, you follow, feeling loads lighter after that interaction. Nothing like winning some good old-fashioned verbal sparring to get the sinews stiffened again.

He leads the way to the kitchen, grumbling under his breath as you walk behind him, your stomach rumbling something awful.

“Oh, bless your soul, it’s food!” you moan, rushing towards the box full of rice sitting on the counter.

“Lovely, so now my soul is blessed, but any other time, I’m stupid. You might want to heat – alright, then.”

You don’t pause as you rapidly continue shuffling the contents into your mouth like you haven’t eaten in days. Climbing up onto the counter, you chew and swallow, only pausing for a second in the middle to ask, “How was work?”

He brings down two tea bags from the overhead shelf. “Fine, I guess. Managed to get assigned a good story, so that’s something.”

Swallowing, you say, “That’s great! And the novel?”

With a shrug as he pours boiling water into the cups, he replies, “Haven’t made any headway. I’m still stuck at the same place.”

“Well, you have the weekend to focus on it. That’s bound to help, yeah?”

You set aside your empty box, feeling satiated, and accept the mug from Jungkook with a smile, nursing the warmth in between your palms and letting it steep as he takes a sip of his own tea while nodding.

“Hopefully. And class tomorrow should be fun, might get something there.”

You hum in response, pleased. The thought of your weekly dance class perks you up a bit as you feel your eyelids drooping at the soothing smell and steam of chamomile under your nostrils.

When you and Jungkook had found out that you’d both be coming back to your hometown for work after spending four years at different colleges, the first thing you two had done after finding an apartment to share had been re-enrolling at your old dance studio. Now Saturday mornings are exclusively reserved for listening to Taemin, Mr. Kibum's protégé, shout at you and roughly ten other young adults to ‘Dance, you lazy fools,’ like he’s an old man who’s angry at teenagers about stepping on his lawn instead of the 25 year old, recent fine arts graduate that he is. Most of the class, including Taemin, are people you’ve grown up with in the city, gone to school with, performed at recitals with when you all were teenagers.

Sliding off the counter, you take Jungkook’s cup from him and wash it along with your own. Now that you’ve been fed, you want nothing more than to go to bed so you can wake up in time in the morning. Once, you and Jungkook had made the mistake of being five minutes late, and now Taemin’s put a black asterisk next to both your names in the database, like he’s running a bloody pre school.

“Oh, and I almost forgot, Tae finally found a business partner!”

Stacking the cups on the side of the sink, you dry your hands as you reply, “I always knew he would. Is it somebody you know, from college?”

“No, he said they went to high school together and met again at a reunion party. “

You’re having trouble keeping up with the conversation at this point, feeling your eyelids becoming more insistent in their bid to shut, so you just pat an amused Jungkook on the shoulder in acknowledgement before you manage to say through a yawn, “I’m excited to meet him. ‘Night.”

“Remind me again why I didn’t dance more in college,” you groan from your sprawled out position on the wooden floor of the room.

Taemin walks up and down the three rows of tired, panting dancers, looking infuriatingly fresh and straight off the ramp despite having just run through a terrifyingly complex and intense routine. Your only consolation is the fact that he seems to be the only one.

“Because you’re a nerd,” comes the reply to your rhetoric.

You try to move your leg hard enough to connect with Jungkook's, but all you can manage is a pitifully weak love tap on his shin. He lets out a wheezy sort of laugh from his straight legged, sat down position on your right, body tiredly leaning on his palms behind him. On your other side, Hyejin is faring marginally better than the both of you. She looks a little tired, but eager to, god forbid, go another round. She always was more active in college. It used to annoy you, when she used to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to go do something awful, like exercise, but now you wish you had joined her occasionally, if for nothing else but to have a stamina greater than a sedentary brick.

“On your way out, make sure you check the notice board in the reception for information about the competition.”

“Boom? It still happens?”

Taemin fixes you with a dry look as you slowly sit up and copy Jungkook’s position. “Shockingly enough, this institute runs perfectly normally even without you around, Y/N.”

Mr. Kibum taught him a bit too much, you think, as chuckles erupt around you.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “Oh, please, we both know I’m only asking because a maximum of four teams used to participate when we were in school. Third place just meant second last.”

“We made it a solo and duet competition three years ago. More teams, easier to coordinate for participants. We’re doing much better than we used to.”

It makes sense. BigHit, as a studio, used to have a small but dedicated group of patrons. Everybody knew everybody, and there were only two rooms. But looking at how much bigger this new building is, and the number of students in this contemporary batch that you’re a part of, not to mention the multiple rooms that you pass by every weekend filled with screaming children learning how to pirouette and b-boy, it’s clear that there’s been an increase in customers.

The lot of you trudge outside the room, making your way to the entrance in a babble of ‘Goodbye!’s and ‘See you next week!’s. You can feel the familiar soreness setting into your legs and back, but it seems less intense than it used to be. You’re rifling through your bag for your water bottle as Jungkook reads the poster on the notice board.

“See you at work!” Hyejin calls out as she walks towards the doors, letting you give a distracted wave to her retreating back.

“Ah, shit, I think I left my bottle inside. Give me five minutes?”

Jungkook nods, not really paying attention to what you’re saying, too engrossed in the pamphlet.

With an internal groan, you turn around and walk back the way you just came until you reach the room you’re looking for. Pushing the door open, you stop to a sudden halt, feeling like the SpongeBob with headphones meme.

The sight you’re met with leaves you gaping. The man dancing inside is gliding through the music, elegance pouring out of every fingertip. His back is facing you, and you can make out the strength and control he has over his movements, shoulders fluidly firm and back flexing with each lift of his arms, slow twist of his hips through his plain white t-shirt. It seems, for a single, permanently ephemeral moment like the music is radiating from his very being, and not from the speakers on the side. You hardly realise that you’re still standing, that you’re still breathing, but watching his limbs flow with such commanding grace somehow makes you feel so, so alive.

Abruptly, the music stops, and you feel like you’ve been woken up from a year-long slumber, suddenly conscious of your body, of your existence. He still hasn’t noticed you, frozen as you are at the doorway, and he walks towards the speakers away from the door. You don’t look away, slightly out of breath, and with a start, you notice your blue water bottle on the floor next to his shoes on the side.

Gingerly, you step into the room and softly clear your throat, feeling like you’ve just desecrated someplace holy. The man turns around, speaker in one hand and phone in the other, slightly panting, and the moment comes to a standstill yet again, suspended with wild surmise.

“Y/N?”

The floppy brown hair, those twinkling eyes and pouty lips. Suddenly, you’re ten years old again, sitting with your best friend under a tree and discussing excuses to get out of doing homework.

“Jimin?”

You’re meeting each other in the middle of the room now in a tight hug, and you step away with a million questions running through your brain.

What’s Jimin doing back in this city? Why is he practicing in the studio alone? Is he staying? When did he get so pretty?

The last thought hits you like a bullet train and you impatiently shoo it away. It’s been twelve years, of course he looks different.

“You look great!” he says, eyes crinkling as he smiles, tiny dimple popping, in the I haven’t seen you in a really long time and this is how the script for such situations reads voice.

“So do you! How come you’re here?” you enthuse, referring to the same play, still reeling.

“I moved back a week ago! Do you still live here?”

“Moved out for college, came back for work-"

“Hey, Y/N, what’s taking you so lo – Jimin?”

“Kook! You’re here too?”

You watch Jungkook’s face morph through shock, surprise, confusion before mirroring your own expression of bemused joy as he meets Jimin in the middle for a hug. Seeing them like this makes your heart ache with the memory of the last time the three of you were together, that final evening under Jungkook’s tree, as the sun was setting on the horizon and you were all promising each other that you would write thrice a week. Even you and Jungkook, despite the fact that you both weren’t moving anywhere. Of course, not a single email was sent. Not unless you count that one week in college where you were avoiding your texts like the plague and used exclusively email to contact a very exasperated Jungkook (“Y/N, you literally do not even have to reply to my messages, but every time I get an email notification, I keep thinking it’s from the university and I don’t know if I should be relieved or worried when I see that it isn’t.”).

Before you know what’s happening, leave alone protest, Jungkook’s pulling you into the hug so your head is smushed into his chest, face a hair's breadth away from the side of Jimin's. He’s still giggling with Jungkook as the latter says, “Hey, this is so great! The three of us, just like old times, yeah?”

You take in the crinkles around Jimin’s eyes as he smiles, the sweet, high pitched, deliciously familiar sound of his laugh, his playful voice as he says, “It’s wild that you used to be the shortest of us,” to a faux offended Jungkook, and with the memory of him dancing like that still etched in your mind, you know that this is nothing like old times.

You push yourself out of the hug and plaster on a smile to cover how unsettled you feel on the inside. You’ve never been good with change, and this is a huge fucking change.

Laughing along for a bit, you let out an internal sigh of relief as Jimin winces and says, “Taemin and I are gonna be dancing together at the competition and he'll be here any minute, so I really should get back to practicing. He channels Mr. Kibum’s spirit even more when he has a vested interest in the outcome, and he really wants to win.”

“Oh, yeah, sure! No worries, we'll let you get back to it, then,” you utter, perhaps a tad too enthusiastic. Jimin doesn’t seem to notice anything, just giving you one of his wide smiles before the three of you exchange numbers.

Jungkook finishes entering his contact on Jimin’s phone and hands it over to him. “We should totally catch up sometime, though!”

Jimin agrees enthusiastically with a swift grin and says, “Yeah, definitely! We'll make plans soon,” and the next thing you know, and not nearly quick enough, you’re out on the pavement, absentmindedly counting the tiles as you and Jungkook walk back home.

“Are you overthinking this?”

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by his question. He’s got an infuriatingly knowing look on his face that you want to smack right off.

“What’s there to overthink?”

“It really isn’t a big deal, you know. I mean, yeah, it’s been a million years since we saw him and it kinda sucks that we couldn’t keep in touch and obviously, puberty hit him like a glorious, gorgeous truck, but he’s still Jimin.”

Side eyeing him, you wonder if it’s a good thing that it sounds like he’s just read your mind.

Sighing, you reply, kicking at a pebble in front of you in half-hearted annoyance, “He’s just so...grown up. And old.”

“You're three months older than him, if I remember correct.”

Debating on whether you should direct your next kick at him instead and deciding to spare him, you say, “You know what I mean. I know he’s still Jimin, but I feel like I don’t know him at all. You should have seen him dancing, Kook, it was beautiful. So poised and graceful and wonderful and skilled. I’ve never seen anybody dance like that apart from Mr. Kibum, maybe. Who is he?”

“There, there,” Jungkook replies after your sudden, passionate outburst, patronisingly patting your head as you huff and shake off his hand. “We literally just spoke to him for the first time in twelve years. I feel weird about it too, but I’m sure we'll be more comfortable once we spend more time together. We’ve grown as well, yeah?”

First Hoseok, now Jungkook. The amount of wisdom that’s been shoved on you from unexpected quarters recently is quite astonishing.

You tell him as much, swerving his swatting hand and narrowly missing bumping into an annoyed couple walking next to you. Giggling as you simultaneously apologise and teeter precariously on your heel, trying to regain your balance, Jungkook lets you suffer for a while until he finally takes pity and grabs your hand just in the nick of time, standing you upright.

“Tae wants us to meet his partner tonight over dinner,” he says, ignoring your scowl of annoyance as you hoist your bag higher on your shoulder from its displaced position.

“I’m meeting Yoongi for dinner today, though.”

“Tell Tae that. He’s annoyed you aren’t replying to his messages anyway.”

In a mumble, you reply, “He shouldn’t take it personally.”

Jungkook just hums in response as you both climb up the stairs to the apartment, more than used to your delayed replies. “Can you get Yoongi to bake that chocolate cake again? I’ve been craving it.”

Pushing the door open, you say, already dreaming about dessert tonight and Yoongi’s cooking skills, “Me and you both, my dude, me and you both.”

Yoongi : How long will you take to reach?

Depends. How long will the cake take to get ready?

Yoongi : If you aren’t here in fifteen minutes, I’m eating it and only leaving enough for Jungkook.

Open the door.

“Took you long enough,” Yoongi huffs as you close the door behind you and step into the foyer, slipping off your shoes in the doorway.

“Hey, I was only listening to what Hoseok said. I am to, and I quote, completely relax this weekend because next week's gonna be hell apparently.”

He flicks you on the forehead, easily dodging your half-hearted counter attack before leading you into the house. The smell of food wafts out of the kitchen, nearly making you salivate. If there’s one good thing that’s come out of moving back to this city, it’s that Yoongi never moved out and where Yoongi lives, good cooking thrives. He always did pay more attention to your mother’s lessons.

You’re preoccupied with trying to guess what the smells are, eyes closed and nose sticking up, when you suddenly bump into your brother’s back.

“Move over, then. What are we waiting for? It doesn’t taste as good reheated,” you say, eagerly trying to move past his frame so you can enter the kitchen slash dining room.

But something in his manner seems shifty. Slowly, you bring the balls of your feet back to the floor and stop fidgeting as you take in his evasive expression.

Sighing, you ask, casting one last doleful expression to the doorway that’s so close yet so far, “What did you do?”

“Who says I did anything?”

At your unimpressed look, he huffs before taking a deep breath, as if to summon up some courage.

“Y/N,” he starts, his uncharacteristically sweet tone making you wary.

“Yes?” you slowly ask, simultaneously suspicious and curious.

He places his palms on your shoulders and your younger sibling instincts kick in, ready to punch him in the stomach if he tries to flip you. But there’s no trace of mischief in his unsure, slightly scared eyes. Pleased as you are that Yoongi feels the need to be cautiously terrified around you, you wonder what you’re about to hear that’s making him anticipate a negative reaction.

In a soothing voice, he says, tilting his head like how he used to talk to you when you were seven, “You know that you’re my favourite sister, don’t you?”

Okay, that’s it. With an impatient click of your tongue, you wrench his hands off and swiftly sidestep him to the kitchen doorway as you mutter, “I’m your only sister, fool.”

But the insult never leaves your mouth, stuck as it is on the tip of your tongue. You’re left halted at the doorway, gaping like a fish at the figure sat on the table, Yoongi’s voice urgently, uselessly hissing, “No, wait, don’t go in yet!” behind you and trailing off like a deflating balloon.

“Hello, Y/N,” Kim fucking Jennie says, pleasantly smiling up at you, looking completely unfazed.

“Hi- Hel- Hey, Jennie.”

Your embarrassing stutter ends in a growl as Yoongi behind you chuckles, his laughter morphing into a deeply satisfying grunt of pain as you elbow him in the stomach as discreetly as possible.

Jennie's slightly widening grin shows that maybe the motion wasn’t as discreet as you had hoped. Oh, well. As long as it hurt like a bitch.

For a moment, you just stand there, looking at her with your mind blank. Twice in the same day, you’ve been left at a loss for words, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. She doesn’t seem to be too affected, sitting calmly and steadily looking at you through her black, full-rimmed, cat-eye glasses, like a drastically younger and more female version of an Asian Dumbledore. In fact, if anything else, she seems like she’s having quite a good time. Her smile doesn’t waver, and you’re still thrown by how young and non-terrifying she looks when you aren’t in front of her in a boss-intern capacity, but all that will come later. For now, you need answers.

Thankfully, at that moment, from behind you, in a voice that sounds disgustingly like a male turtle dove cooing to his romantic counterpart, Yoongi breaks the deafening silence. “Could you give us a moment, Jennie?” he asks, and with an amicable nod from your boss, he guides you back out to the living room with his hands on your shoulders.

The moment you’re out of earshot, you whip around to face him, mustering as much anger and irritation into your gaze as you can. “What the fuck?” you hiss, distantly glad to see him a great deal more scared than he had been when he laughed at you back in the kitchen.

Not giving him a chance to reply, you rapidly continue, “What is my boss doing in your bloody kitchen?”

He holds up his palms in a placating gesture as he says, “Now, I know this is a bit of a shock-"

“Figured that out all on your own, did you?”

“-but Jennie and I are...seeing each other.”

“Oh my god. Oh god. Holy fuck. I need to sit down.”

You drop onto the couch behind you, Yoongi tentatively following your lead, gingerly perching himself out of punching range.

As you try to wrap your head around this lovely surprise, he continues, “I know she’s your mentor and stuff, but it isn’t going to be any different at work or anything. You weren’t even technically supposed to meet her today. Her car's gone for servicing and her Uber’s running a little late.”

“Okay, wait, wait. How do you even know her?”

Looking slightly less wary, now that he can tell that you aren’t going to attack him, he says, “I met her at one of those company parties last year, when Hobi made me go as his plus one.”

You straighten up so fast, it’s a wonder your spine doesn’t crack. “Last year? You guys have been dating for an entire year?”

Trying to subtly shift slightly away once again, realising that the jury’s still out on physical violence, he slowly replies, “No, no, we’ve only been together for, like, two months, promise.”

You slump again, but shoot a venomous glare at Yoongi so he won’t lower his guard. “How old is she, even? And also, does Hoseok know about this?”

“28, and yes.”

“No fucking way,” you say, now in awe for a completely different reason. “She’s a division head before thirty?”

You regret it immediately, though, as Yoongi’s visage takes on a moony eyed expression. “Yeah, she’s really smart. Did her internship and online classes at the same time and skipped a grade in school.”

“Oh, ew, ew, okay fine, I understand. Stop doing that with your face, please,” you rattle off, completely disgusted by this ghastly display.

He’s about to say something, probably flattering because that always serves to soften you right up, when you hear the soft clearing of a throat. Both of you whip your heads in the direction of the sound comically fast to see Jennie at the end of the room near the foyer, phone in one hand and bag in the other. Immediately, the two of you stand up, although for different reasons.

It looks like she’s trying not to laugh as she says, “My ride's here, so I’ll let you guys get to dinner, yeah?”

“I’ll walk you out,” Yoongi immediately replies, taking on that tone that you’re quickly getting incredibly tired of.

Jennie nods with a wide smile, eyes crinkling on the sides as Yoongi gently places a hand on the small of her back once he reaches her. You try your best not to gag. You might be 22 years old with some reasonable amount of experience in the romantic field, but there are some things that you just do not need to see.

“See you at work, Y/N!” Jennie says. All you can manage is a half nod half bow, and ridiculously, you have to actively fight the urge to salute. You narrow your eyes as Yoongi lets out a snort at your actions that he quickly and not very convincingly tries to cover up with a cough, quickly ushering an amused Jennie towards the door.

An amused Jennie, you think, hardly daring to believe it, as you make your way back to the kitchen, determined to hold the chocolate cake ransom until he tells you more about Jennie. Only Jennie, mind you. Not Jennie and Yoongi. You wouldn’t want to touch that with a five-foot pole, not anytime soon, at least. But your mentor slash potential future boss alone, on the other hand, seems really fucking cool right about now.

“I’m telling you nothing. If I have to wait for a week to get a reply, you can wait a couple more minutes to see him for yourself.”

You scowl at Tae, holding your tongue from reminding him that replying to a stupid cat video ranks much lower on the urgency scale than being armed with some semblance of information about his new business partner that you and Jungkook are going to be meeting in five minutes.

Next to you, Jungkook snickers and says in a sing-song voice, “I told you so.”

Tae continues fixing you with that obstinate glare, lips wrapped around the bright, red straw jutting out of his plastic cup filled with something that’s probably too edgy and expensive to taste good. Like everything else on this menu.

When he had sent the address to the two of you, you had exchanged one of those looks, one of those only half-joking Can he pay our rent? looks and immediately started planning lunch at home before going for lunch at this...cafe? Restaurant? Bistro? Either way, the hard, wooden table in front of you looks more comfortable than the tall stool you’re sat on and the drink you’re nursing that was advertised as coffee tastes more like mud water mixed with cheap fertiliser.

The stool opposite you, next to Tae, remains empty as you all wait for this dude that you have absolutely zero information about. It'd be nice to be prepared, is all.

“While we’re waiting,” Jungkook starts, voice pleased at the stand off that’s happening in front of him. Always a slut for drama, that one. “Did Y/N tell you that Yoongi’s dating her boss?”

Tae's eyebrow lifts higher as he lets the straw go with a pop before saying, “No, she didn’t. But I’m not surprised.”

“About her not telling you or about Yoongi dating her boss?”

“Both,” Tae replies to Jungkook’s question, fixing you with a stern glare.

Before you can defend yourself, and it'd be a mighty solid defence seeing as how you yourself found out less than twenty-four hours ago, Tae continues, “Yoongi's always had a thing for powerful women.”

Sputtering, eyes wide, you say, “But you don’t even know my brother!”

Next to you, Jungkook roars in laughter, coughing as he swallows his weird, green concoction. You don’t bother helping him. Let him choke.

“Jungkook’s told me enough about him. He seems cool. I don’t know how you’re both from the same family.”

As you huff and flip him off, Jungkook, who’s just managed to calm himself down, sets off again. You’re about to chide him for laughing at your misery when the bell atop the door you’re facing gives a happy little trill, admitting the fifth patron in as many minutes, and decidedly the most unexpected, terrifying and beautiful entrant so far.

You can’t explain what you do next. You can’t even say that Jungkook has the whole apartment brain cell because he’s hiccupping into his drink and looking incredibly stupid while doing it. But your first instinct when you see Jimin enter is to hiss, “Oh, fuck no,” under your breath, panic in your gaze as Tae looks at you in concern, before slipping off the stool and ducking under the table, hitting your head in the process.

Pain blooms across your temple, but you have no time to attend to it, as the next thing you know, you’re belatedly realising that Jimin knows Jungkook too, and however well concealed you are, the other man is doing nothing to seem inconspicuous. Summoning all your strength, you’re about to give a good, strong tug to Jungkook’s pant leg, hoping that that should be enough to get him down here too, when from above you, you hear Tae loudly saying, “Jimin! Over here!” and Jungkook giving a tiny ‘Hey, it’s Jimin!’

What the fuck?

From your vantage point, you can see a pair of white shoed feet turning and walking closer, the tall table giving you a lovely view right up to Jimin's black jean clad thighs. Your mind is running a mile a minute, wondering whether you can manage to crawl out towards the door without anybody noticing and maybe sneak back in once Jimin’s left.

Before you can make up your mind, eyes glued onto Jimin’s approaching feet, Jungkook’s head pops down next to yours, floppy hair blocking your line of sight. “You good down there? Comfy?”

With a sinking feeling, you realise there’s no escape now, Tae’s voice already giving a small whoop of welcome. You shove Jungkook’s head a bit, nudging at him to straighten so you have enough space to clamber out, plastering a smile on your face.

You pop up just as Jimin reaches the table fully, he and Tae with wide grins on their faces as they both turn towards you and Jungkook after their ‘Hey!’s.

He looks even prettier than he had yesterday at the badly lit studio, floppy hair being held back by a pair of shades perched atop his head and eyes crinkled in what you now think is a permanent smile. You feel your fake grin morphing into something softer, more genuine as he tells Tae, “You didn’t tell me your friends were Y/N and Kook!”

Tae's befuddled expression is a sight to behold as you, Jungkook and Jimin continue beaming at each other in pleasant surprise. Vaguely, you think this should worry you more, your sudden, absolute lack of panic obviously a sign of insanity. But, honestly, you think you’re fine. Apart from the whole first reaction is to hide under the table thing.

Your heart might be beating a little faster than its resting rate, and your palms may be a bit clammy, but emotionally, it suddenly feels quite easy to be around him once you’ve seen how comfortingly familiar his dimples are.

“So, you’re Tae's business partner?”

“Yup,” Jimin nods as he pushes his stool closer to the table to get comfortable. “Small world, huh?”

Jungkook nods, knee bouncing excitedly next to yours as he takes a sip of his drink, grimacing after. “Definitely,” he replies through a wince.

Your own coffee sits in front of you, untouched after that first sip. Your gaze moves a little forward and gets momentarily caught on the silver bracelet on Jimin’s wrist.

“Where are you staying?” you ask, more to prove to yourself that you can say something without embarrassing yourself, because you know that Jimin saw your little escapade and he’s just too nice to bring it up, but Jungkook and Tae won’t be quite so forgiving when they interrogate you later.

“I’ve rented a studio apartment for now,” he replies, scanning the drinks menu in front of him. You wish him luck finding something good.

“How’s Yoongi? Still plays basketball?” Jimin asks, once he’s wisely decided to not order anything.

“He's dating Y/N's boss,” Jungkook says before you can respond, still, for some unfathomable reason, drinking his sludge-in-a-cup.

“Is that...is that a problem?”

“No, Y/N's just really scared of her. Like super wimpy when she’s around.”

Your whiny protest is halted by Jimin replying thoughtfully, “I’m kinda not surprised. I vaguely remember Yoongi dating that really intense emo girl once all those years ago. I see his type hasn’t changed.”

Huffing as Jungkook snickers and Jimin gives you a teasing grin that makes your stomach give a weak flop (which will be analysed later), you decisively say, “Yoongi’s fine. He lives here too and runs a tattoo place with Jin, the super tall dude who used to be over at my house all the time. And I’m not that scared of my boss.”

“Oh! Jennie, let me get that for you. Oh, of course, Jennie, I’ll do anything you ask, I’m so far up your ass – Ouch!”

Your foot makes contact with Jungkook’s shin, effectively stopping his disgustingly high pitched, incredibly inaccurate imitation of you, but does nothing to prevent your breath from slightly catching as Jimin giggles at his antics.

The perfectly pleasant, three-way tête-à-tête is interrupted by the loud sound of palms hitting the wooden table as Tae, whom you’re amused to say you had forgotten about, whips his head between all three of you, looking completely bewildered.

“Why are you all talking like you know each other?”

“I don’t know if I feel like telling you,” you reply, feeling vindictive at his betrayed expression. Now he knows.

Jungkook’s tight lipped next to you, sulking like the child he is and periodically bending down to rub his leg entirely too times to be warranted.

Jimin, on the other hand, looks curious as well as he asks, “I actually wanted to find out, too. How do you guys know Tae?”

Of course, you’ll answer him.

“He and Kook went to the same college. I, unfortunately, know him by association. How do you know Tae?”

“High school. We ran in the same circles.”

On noticing his business partner's annoyed expression next to him, Jimin continues with a faux-curious voice, bending forward on the table, leaning on his elbows so he can pretend to be interested, “How do you know Kook?”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the intensity of his eye contact, however playful it may be, in favour of aiding and abetting this mission of How Annoyed Can We Make Taehyung Today by replying, “Oh, twelve years of schooling together. What about you, how do you know Kook?”

Thoughtfully humming, he’s about to respond, but he’s interrupted by Tae saying in an annoyed voice, “Jungkook, if you answer my question, I’ll pay for your lunch.”

The response comes almost too quickly, but you can hardly blame him. Shit's expensive. “We all used to be best friends here until Jimin moved away right before middle school.”

“Oh, that’s wild,” Tae says thoughtfully, shooting you a smug look at having procured the information that you were withholding.

You all order food and conversation pauses as you, Jungkook and Jimin poke around in your meals, looking for something that appears edible, contrary to Tae, who seems perfectly content chewing mouthful after mouthful of bland celery and olives.

“Do you guys have a location for the store yet?” you ask, trying to spear a half-cooked pasta piece on your fork.

“We settled on a building yesterday! It’s pretty, lots of light and air, some good backroom space too.”

“And our first shipment's arriving in a few weeks,” Jimin adds, eyeing his plate suspiciously, as if the burger's going to eat him.

“We just need models now,” Tae nods, satisfied and leaning back on his chair, squeaky clean plate in front of him.

Jungkook seems to be trying very, very hard to not look at his salad as he eats it, and after what appears to be a very painful swallow, he asks, “Aren't you guys doing the modelling?”

And suddenly, the thought of Jimin smouldering in front of a camera rushes into your mind. You really wish this place had some normal fucking water instead of the herbed shit that’s there in the glass bottle at the centre of the table, because you really could do with some cooling down.

Once Tae's clarified that yes, they will be modelling their products but they also need a female model for that clientele, you clear your throat and ask, nonchalantly enough, toying with your fork, “Have – uh, do you have modelling experience, Jimin? Did you do some stuff in college, like Tae?”

“Oh, nothing big or official. Just a couple of shoots for a few showcases and helping out a friend who majored in photography.”

“He’s being modest,” Tae grins, all Cheshire like. “I’ve seen his photos, they’re really fucking good. If our products weren’t already so great, he would’ve been able to save them.”

Half of you wants so, so bad to see these pictures, to see him looking into the camera like he’s staring into your soul, but you think you’re maybe better off watching his blushing face and crinkling eyes, covering his flush with two hands, peeking through the gaps between short fingers.

You don’t realise you’re staring until you feel Jungkook giving you a tiny pinch on your arm, unseen by the others. Hurriedly busying yourself with the food in front of you once again, edibleness be damned, you push those thoughts away, grounding yourself with the solemn reminder that you have work the next day, Hoseok's warning glaring in your mind.

The rest of the afternoon goes smoothly enough, Jungkook letting out a crow of victory on seeing how expensive his dish was (because this is one of those places that’s too edgy for prices on the menu) and that he wouldn’t have to pay for it. There’s a momentary panic that sets in when you’re leaving, as Jimin goes in for a hug when your hand is still up in a wave, but you get out of it unscathed enough, only slightly embarrassed.

Tae : please?

No.

Tae : i'll pay for your petrol

As much as I love your money, no. Now stop bothering me, I’m almost at work.

Tae : ugh fine. but is there anybody you know instead? that girl who came for yours and kook's housewarming? hyerin something

...Hyejin.

Tae : yes her! could you ask her, please please please?

Will you pay for my meal the next time we go out?

Tae : only if you don’t pull a kook on me and order the most expensive thing on the menu

I can work with that. I’ll talk to her today.

Tae : okay thanks lylyly, let me know by the end of the day!

Snorting, you switch off your phone just as Hoseok pulls into the car park. Surreptitiously, you look around, searching for a familiar sleek black sedan.

“She won't be here yet. Always a little late on Mondays.”

You ignore his knowing look in favour of twisting around to get your bag as you huff and reply, “You don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

“Oh, Yoongi told me everything. I don’t know why I keep missing all these moments between you and Jennie, they sound like such fun.”

Feeling partly relieved that you won’t have be having a super awkward interaction with your boss slash brother’s girlfriend first thing in the morning and partly resentful that Hoseok was able to read you so easily, you half heartedly scowl up at him as the two of you walk towards the glass doors.

“How was your weekend?” he asks, pushing the elevator buttons. The lobby is mostly empty right now, nobody else waiting with you for the lift that’s currently on the topmost floor.

Dryly, you reply, “Oh, has Yoongi not told you everything about it yet?”

At his exasperated look, you respond again. “It was whatever. Dance class, dinner with Yoongi, the shocking, life altering revelation that he's dating my boss, the usual. Oh, and you remember Jimin?”

“The kid you used to hang out with all the time in elementary school?”

“Yup. He’s moved back. Opening that clothing store with Tae.”

He hums in distracted interest as the both of you watch the elevator come closer to the ground floor, stepping on as it dings.

The doors are about to shut close when you hear a hassled ‘Just a moment, please!’ from outside, and on instinct, you press the button to keep the elevator open. Not a moment later, Kim Jennie slips into view, and enters the lift with a polite ‘Thank you,’ the very picture of professionalism.

The universe has started its meddling early today.

You and Hoseok shuffle backwards, making space for her as you catch his gleeful eyes. As the doors shut and she presses the button to the seventh floor, you can feel the familiar stifling awkwardness that always seems to appear when she’s around, only now it’s ten times worse.

You’re certain the lift has never moved this slowly before, but Jennie makes no sign of saying anything to you and you sure as hell aren’t going to bring shit up. But the same can’t be said of Hoseok, apparently.

He clears his throat, absently looking at the numbers moving on the display on the top of the elevator doors, and you shoot him a suspicious glance, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Conversationally, he asks, “How’s your brother doing, Y/N?”

You could murder him, you really could.

Eyes darting between Jennie's straight back and Hoseok's slightly shaking shoulders, you shortly grit out, “Fine.”

And then, just when the door finally opens and you’re determining whether he’s an important enough employee to be missed very terribly, you catch sight of a tiny, amused smile of Jennie's face as she walks out of the lift first.

It throws you off enough to let Hoseok go without any lasting damage, only breaking out of your shock when you notice Hyejin walking towards you, annoyed look on her face. In a flash, you remember your promise to Tae. Hyejin must be kept happy and agreeable and susceptible. If not, you’re doomed to be the newest face of the VMin Experience (because it isn’t something as basic as a store). Tae just has to offer to pay for a couple more things and you’re a goner.

“Four fucking emails. The office isn’t even fully open yet and I have four codes to debug before lunch already. Fuck product rolling week.”

This is for Tae. This is so I don’t make a fool of myself on camera.

With as sweet a grin as you can muster, you reply, “Why don’t you send me half of them? I can finish it up for you.”

It doesn’t have quite the effect that you’re hoping for. Instead of simpering and agreeing and giving you one of her trademark million-watt smiles, full of gratitude and good cheer, all she does is narrow her eyes suspiciously.

“Why do I feel like you have some ulterior motive to this?”

“No! No ulterior motive, I promise. Just wanted to make things a bit simpler for you. Can I not want my closest friend to be relaxed?”

She regards you for a moment, beady eyed. Apparently deciding that you sound legitimate enough, she slowly takes out her phone and forwards two emails to you.

“Fine, but only because I’ve just been sent on a coffee run and Namjoon’s drink always takes too long to make.”

“Of course,” you reply, nodding genially as you hear a ping from your pocket. And then for good measure, you summon the lift for her, holding the door open as she steps in, smile plastered on until the doors shut on her sceptical eyes.

Tae : have u asked her yet

It’s been two minutes since we made this agreement.

Tae : so that’s a yes?

It’s an I’m-working-on-it. If you keep asking me every two minutes, I’m blocking you.

Tae : hope you aren’t planning on convincing hyejin with that sunny attitude

Fuck off.

You thank your cab driver as you exit the vehicle, watching with slight regret as he drives away. Might have been useful to have a getaway car.

Product rolling week is not, in fact, an entire week. It apparently runs only until Friday morning, after which all of you get a let-off, leading to a fake, watered down excuse of a three-day weekend.

And if it were up to you, right now on said Friday evening, you’d be curled up under covers after an early dinner (like 6 PM early), with a cup of tea and a good book, doing your damnedest to forget the just completed week from hell and mentally preparing for two, glorious, work-free days.

But no. You have no book with you. No blankets and pillows and no warm tea. All you have is Uber surge pricing and the building that you’re standing in front of that reads The VMin Experience on a small, wooden, obviously work-in-progress board.

You opt to watch from the outside for a bit, looking into the store through the glass. They’ve got two mannequins up already, one dressed in street fashion with a backwards snapback and the other in a whole ball gown, pearl string necklace included. It’s an experience, alright. Squinting, you can make out a wall that still has plastic wrap up and a ladder with a few stools, paint cartons on the floor. The store seems empty, but the message from Hyejin on your phone reads ‘COME TO THE BACK ROOM!!!’.

Casting one last, rueful look at the street, you sigh and push the door open, immediately hit by the smell of turpentine and varnish and general construction work. There are golden track lights fixed on beams from the ceiling illuminating a few naked mannequins on the floor and you pick your way through the newspapers to reach the door behind the payment counter.

The first thing you see is Jungkook speaking into his phone held in one hand and holding up an umbrella stand with the other. Then you notice Tae crouching, camera held up to his eyes, shutter clicking as he focuses away from you. You observe as Hyejin does her smoulder-smile-pout routine that fills her Instagram feed and shoot a quick thank you to the universe that she had agreed so easily to doing this shoot. There’s no way you could have done what she’s doing now without spontaneously combusting.

In the corner of the room, there’s a clothes rack pushed right up to the wall, filled with hangers and sample clothing that they’re modelling right now. You see it jiggle a bit and realise with a start that there’s somebody changing on the other side. And it doesn’t take a genius to realise who the somebody is.

At the sound of your shoes scuffing the floor, there’s a temporary halt in the proceedings as Tae turns around and says, “Oh, finally. Move that light a bit closer. This is a bitch to do alone and Jimin’s taking too long to change.”

You'd linger a bit longer on the offense that you’re feeling at being ordered about like this, but Jimin’s head pops up from behind the stands at that moment as he replies with a grunt, “This outfit has too many fucking layers, I’m stuck,” and suddenly, as you’re assaulted by a hint of his clavicle, the annoyed pout on his face and the disgruntlement in his eyes that morphs into happiness as he notices you, any and all displeasure you feel at Tae's tone flies right out the window.

You wave shakily in response, watching with a tinge of sadness as he disappears back down, only for Tae to huff and say, “Okay, Y/N, new plan. Go help Jimin with that outfit. I’m finished, Hyejin’s almost done. Just Jimin’s last shot and we can wrap up.”

You wonder what kind of expression you’re sporting at Tae's demand. Something between shock, fear and a weird, perverted, refusing-to-be-tamped-down sense of glee. Either way, you have no choice as he just goes back to photographing Hyejin, who slips right back in to model mode after giving you a big, cheery wave. Jungkook only fixes you with an apologetic sort of look as he continues to talk into his phone and move the umbrella the way he’s asked to.

He’s recently taken to dictating his novel instead of typing it out, and it’s led to you waking up at ungodly hours in the middle of the night on hearing Jungkook curse after stubbing his toe while pacing, talking into either his phone or his laptop. As a software professional, you’re glad. As somebody who quite enjoys sleeping, not so much.

When you hear another grunt from behind the clothes hanger, you’re forced into action, dropping your bag next to Jungkook’s work sling on the floor before calming your nerves with a deep breath and making your way towards the corner.

You stop right in front of the rack, gaze firmly fixed on an invisible point on the recently painted, smooth, grey wall, a few inches above your eye level. Teetering on the balls of your feet, you slowly ask, “Uh, Jimin? Do you need any help?”

Please say no, please say no, please say no. Don’t do this to me.

“Ugh, yes, please. That’d be great. You’ll have to come in through the clothes though, just move some hangers around.”

Thanks a fucking lot.

With another deep breath, you hesitantly pluck at the hanger right in front of you that’s holding a black, sequined jumpsuit that you’d probably think of buying if you hadn’t known that The VMin Experience has luxury brand pricing. Maybe if you take long enough, Jimin will be able to figure it out himself.

“Uh, Y/N? I can’t move my hands.”

No point in holding out for a hope then.

Internally sighing in acceptance of your fate, you push the hanger to the side so you can step in through the ensuing gap.

You’re greeted by the sight of your ex-best friend's naked, taut back, his arms stuck upright in a weird angle above his head, pale blue shirt stretched across his elbows and multiple white silk straps trailing out from it towards the floor.

You can’t look away from it, from the back of his neck to his shoulders, eyes trailing down until they reach the small of his back, centre of his tapering waist, and the moment you notice that he’s wearing tight, black, leather pants, you suddenly feel very warm. It’s a cramped space, and you’re covered on all sides by two walls and a tall, diagonally placed clothes rack, and the awareness that you’re so close to him, and that he’s hardly decently clothed, and that he has the prettiest fucking neck hits you like a truck loaded with arrow wielding baby cupids.

“Were you able to get in? I can’t tell, I’m afraid I’ll fall if I try turning around.”

His voice echoes in the closed space, making the privacy and proximity even more prominent, and it’s an effort to keep your voice from shaking with nerves and breathlessness as you reply, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m here. How do you want me to help?”

“Let me just turn around, give me a second. I think a thread's caught on my finger, if you could just – Oh, fuck.”

It’s instinctive, how your arms shoot out in alarm as he nearly topples over in his attempt to shuffle around, your hands landing on his waist as you straighten him, helping him regain his balance. The moment he seems stable and not a second later, you tug your burning limbs back, memory of his soft, warm skin seemingly permanently embedded in your fingertips.

He can’t see you, a random flap on the front of the shirt hanging over his eyes, and it’s probably for the best given your wide eyed, terrified expression. There’s a flush beginning at the base of your neck and rapidly climbing up, and it distantly annoys you. It’s not like you’re the one who’s half-nude and momentarily blinded.

“Okay, so if you could just untangle that strap near my finger, I think it should be fine. I just need to be able to move my elbows.”

You stop staring at the tiny litter of moles on the right side of his waist with a start, rushing into action, belatedly and furiously realising that your mouth is open and likely has been ever since you entered this holy sanctum of inadvertent porn.

Taking a tiny step closer to his frame, you lightly stand on the balls of your feet so you can begin extracting him from the fabric. He stands silently, but this close, you can feel his steady breath on the side of your head as you deliberately concentrate on getting the shirt across his elbows. You try your hardest to not touch his skin, but it’s difficult when the cloth is this tangled, and at one point, your pinkie finger ends up twisted around his, and in a flash, you’re transported to a decade ago, when the two of you had linked fingers in his backyard and solemnly promised each other that neither of you would ever, ever kiss somebody, because kissing is disgusting and gives disease.

You feel a squeeze around your finger and you flinch. From behind his makeshift veil, you hear Jimin chuckle before softly saying, “I remember it too.”

Trembling, you give a tiny quirk of your lips that is, in theory, a grin, but probably more of a grimace in execution, before you hurriedly move on. You ignore his small hands, the bracelets on his wrist, his breathy giggle as your fingers accidentally brush against the inside of his elbow, the bumpy patch of mosquito bites on his shoulder as you undo the messy loops that the straps have managed to wind themselves into.

Before you can step away, the fabric falls, revealing his face and a relieved grin, teasingly, nerve-wrackingly close to your own.

You clear your throat, rapidly stepping away, looking anywhere but at him.

“Thanks, Y/N!” he says cheerily, tying the straps at the wrist together, as you obstinately refuse to drink in the perfect way the problematic outfit fits his body that you’ve seen entirely too much of.

“No problem,” you mumble, and you’re surprised yourself at how steady your voice comes out. “Anything else I can do for you here?”

A cheeky grin followed by, “Nothing, unless you want to watch me take my pants off.”

You chuckle along with him, blocking out any and all images that your mind is conjuring as you hurriedly step away from him, ducking out from under the hangers and reappearing on the much cooler, much larger and much more oxygen-rich other side.

As you move the light around the way Tae asks you to, absently looking at Hyejin finishing up and Jungkook closing his phone with a satisfied expression, you force yourself to relax, to slow your breathing, to ignore the rustle behind you as Jimin comes through and steps in front of the camera.

You can hardly hold a decent conversation with Jungkook and Hyejin as the three of you eat dinner together at a café nearby once the shoot is over, only supplying miscellaneous hmm's and haw's as they discuss the dance competition at BigHit. It’s a small, saving grace that ensures that Jimin and Tae stayed behind to do some decorating instead of joining you. You can’t imagine just how much more you can take of these annoying, bodily reactions every time Jimin even breathes in your general direction, and you refuse to analyse them now.

“Are you alright? You’ve been sort of quiet today,” Jungkook softly asks later as the two are walking home, streetlamps casting shadows in front of you.

“Fine,” you reply, waving away his concern. “Tired, that’s all.”

He doesn’t let up. “Hyejin said you were a bit jaded while leaving the office today morning. You’re sure you’re okay?”

You run with it. It’s easier than explaining that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about the half-naked form of the third best friend of your little group from elementary school. “Yeah, I had a bit of a headache. Long week.”

“Well, it’s over now!” he says cheerily, ever the optimist. “And there's dance class tomorrow, that should be fun.”

Not if it goes anything like last week’s class, when you met Jimin for the first time in more than a decade.

You manage a small smile and he takes it, probably thinking you’re still exhausted from work, turning back to face the pavement.

“Y/N.”

“Kook.”

“Y/N.”

With an annoyed huff, you let yourself fall onto the couch behind you as Jungkook promptly does the same. His phone is open in his hands, email from BigHit open on his screen. You hadn’t bothered to read the body after seeing the subject, but apparently, Jungkook wasn’t so dismissive.

“Come on, there’s prize money. Prize money. How is this not enticing you further?”

“I haven’t danced properly in four years, Kook. And that money’s only if you win.”

“So we'll practice! Remember how well we used to dance together in those high school showcases? And how much fun you used to have? Do you remember, Y/N? Do you remember what fun is?”

He gets a little intense by the end of it and you respond with a flick to his forehead, the most you can manage in your still sleepy, exhausted haze. Both of you are tired, him from class and you from the long, sleepless night you had spent tossing and turning and willing away flashing images of bare backs and white straps and stupid giggles and tiny fingers.

And Jungkook thinks he can convince you to participate in Boom along with him when you’re in this condition.

“Why can’t you ask Hyejin?”

Absently rubbing the tender spot on his forehead that your finger had satisfyingly connected with, he doesn’t let up, only fixing you with a pleading look that you’d be more susceptible to if you haven’t been on the receiving end of it a million times before.

“Hyejin’s going solo.”

“Oh, so I’m a last resort?”

He sputters and you watch, satisfied, thinking he'll give up now, but he’s nothing if not stubborn, only scrambling momentarily before he shoves his phone insistently in your face.

“How are you so sure we'll lose?” he demands. “And even if we do – don’t look at me like that, – it isn’t that big of a deal! It’ll be fun, please? Now that you have some free time and I’ve at least got a vague sense of where I want my book to go? The competition’s three weeks away, that’s a lot of time.”

You know you have no choice but to agree once he’s given his little speech. You’re teetering at the edge of a decision when he opens his mouth again, excited look on his face.

“And we'd probably end up bumping into Jimin more!”

Shields up, defensively, you ask, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Confused, he replies, “We haven’t spoken to him properly yet, yeah? And we’re all so busy during the week that we haven’t had a chance to catch up since we found out he’s back.”

Relaxing a bit, you say, “Oh! Oh, yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll do it.”

But Jungkook doesn’t seem entirely convinced. A shrewd look overtakes his face, eyes narrowing in a suspicious expression that you’re not entirely fond of. Slowly, he asks, “Why? What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing! Anyway, I’m gonna go shower. We can start practice tomorrow and all my evenings are free next week!”

You ramble it all out in a rush, some unknown energy appearing as you jump off the couch and leave the room rapidly. Behind you, you can hear Jungkook mumbling in confusion, but pleased nonetheless as he registers both your names for the competition.

You wonder if you’ll be able to get through a single conversation ever about Jimin without your stomach erupting in dread and awkwardness and terrifying fear. And more importantly, you wonder how long you’ll be able to avoid it and how long you’ll be able to hide it from your shockingly perceptive roommate. When his head isn’t stuck inside the washing machine or under restaurant tables.

“Oh, it’s been too long since we did this last,” Hyejin says as she tops up your glass with some dollar store wine, setting the bottle on the centre table before she leans back on the couch, her own glass held precariously as she folds her pyjama clad legs under her, head propped up by an arm resting on the back as she faces you eagerly.

You respond with an agreeing nod as you take a sip of your second glass, cross-legged on the other end of her sofa.

“Now,” she begins, all business-like, and it immediately puts you on edge. “Are you going to tell me why you didn’t come for class today morning?”

Shrugging as nonchalantly as you can, you reply, “I over slept. Recovering from the week, I think.”

And from Jimin, a traitorous voice in your head adds. You impatiently shoo it away. You aren’t going to tell her that you woke up with your alarm, came as far as taking a shower and wearing your leggings, even began to pack your bag, before being faced by the possibility of meeting Jimin today. You can’t tell her that you chickened out at the last minute and when Jungkook knocked on your door, asking if you were ready to leave, you had faked a headache and decided to stay in. You can’t tell her that you’re avoiding your childhood best friend because he’s too fucking pretty and too fucking sweet and invokes too many bloody emotions in you that you prefer to circumvent, still not having registered them yourself.

She nods shortly, but her voice remains uncertain as she asks, “Are you sure? You did seem a bit shaken yesterday after the shoot yesterday.”

You wave away her questions dismissively. “Yes, yes, I’m fine, promise.”

She drops it, taking another slow sip. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

The two of you drink in silence for a bit, only sounds being the occasional slurp and the knocking of glass against teeth.

“Are you participating in Boom?”

Scowling, you reply, “I have been strong armed into doing so, yes.”

She grins at you over her glass as she takes a sip, “Jungkook asked me if I wanted to be his partner today. When I told him to just ask you, he got kinda squinty eyed. I think he knew you were going to put up a fight.”

Flattered about your reputation, you give a short, satisfied nod before you ask, “Is BigHit letting participants use their rooms for practice?”

“Oh, Taemin told us about all that today. All rooms are full on weekday evenings and weekend mornings. Every other time is free.”

You feel your stomach sink. You’ll be the first to admit that this wasn’t your preferred choice of activity for the next three relatively easy, work wise, weeks, but now that you’ve committed, you want to win, godammit.

She gives you a sympathetic grin, patting your knee. “I know, those are the only free slots we’ve got. But what're you gonna do?” she shrugs.

“We'll have to find a place. Maybe we'll just move around some furniture in the living room.”

Again, you both relapse into silence, thinking about how to make it work. Slowly, a tiny frown appears on Hyejin's face, the kind that she gets when she’s just thought of a possible way to get rid of an error in a code but isn’t sure if it'll work without fucking up some other section of the program.

“You could ask Tae and Jimin if you can use their shop,” she slowly says, looking at you unsurely.

Even as your heartbeat picks up, you fight to keep your face placid as she continues, “Like, I know it’s new and shit, and it’s their baby and all that, but it’s roomy enough. It isn’t like you’re both gonna go wreck the room by dancing. And that back room that we used last night for the shoot, that could work!”

She looks at you, waiting for an answer. You buy some time, contorting your expression in one of contemplation as you lean forward to refill your glass, but inside, you feel like you’re warring with yourself.

It’s a pretty good idea!

But Jimin.

They aren’t opening the shop for two more weeks!

But Jimin.

It’s not like they’re gonna say no!

But Jimin.

“I’ll talk to Jungkook about it,” you say, keeping your voice level, settling for the most diplomatic and inconspicuously evasive answer you can manage.

She nods, content with your reply as she leans back. You mindlessly make your way through your glass, once again, annoyingly, caught up with thoughts that don’t bear thinking about, when her downturned phone on the coffee table in front of the couch pings with an alert.

It’s always shocked you that you know somebody who doesn’t permanently keep their phone on silent or vibrate, but you can’t dwell on it for too long.

“Taehyung just sent me the photos from yesterday!”

Fuck.

Her excitement is infectious, though, as she clambers closer to you, grinning eagerly, phone tilted so you can see the screen loading. You place your glass on the table before leaning back comfortably, cushion on your lap and heart in your mouth. Best not to be holding delicate items when you see this.

Distantly, you wonder whether you can make a quick getaway, or come up with a believable excuse in such short notice. You had sort of envisioned yourself being alone when you saw Jimin's pictures. Last night, after the...emotional debacle, you had studiously not looked at him for the remainder of the shoot, only moving around the light when you were asked to, gaze stuck on the ground or trading funny expressions with Jungkook across the room. Your goodbye had been perfunctorily cordial, steps consciously measured as you walked out, skin burning at the memory of the hug he had left you with.

Are you excited to see Hyejin’s and Tae's photos? Yes.

Can the same be said of Jimin’s? Not out loud.

You shoot a quick prayer up, although you’re beginning to quickly lose whatever meagre amount of faith you once had, just as the screen finishes loading, tiny thumbnails appearing.

You squeeze your hand in a fist, preparing for the worst as Hyejin opens the top image. Irrational as it is, you curse Tae for putting Jimin’s photos first as you’re assaulted (blessed?) by the dancer looking somewhere to the left of the camera, body languidly, precisely positioned with all the elegance and strength that comes when he’s on stage, deliberately supercilious pout playing on his lips, eyebrow cocked in a challenge to whoever’s in the background.

Nothing big or official, my ass.

Photo after photo flashes in front of you as you take in his smug smirk in one, his hip jutting out sideways in another, his fingers partway through running them through his hair, him in the middle of a giggle that you can hear, eyes shining, dimple popping. Distantly, as you greedily drink in the white straps dripping from his outfit as he smoulders, looking like an ethereal dream, you realise that you don’t want the pictures to stop.

You don’t pay attention to how obvious you’re being until you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder, pulling you out of the map you’re tracing with your eyes along Jimin’s neck, and with a start, you notice that you’ve been looking at the same image for nearly half a minute.

You shut your mouth abruptly at the expression on Hyejin’s face as she looks at you, head tilted. The silence is heavy, pregnant as you try to find some way to get out of this mess.

“Y/N,” she slowly starts, caution in her voice as she lowers the phone before you can say anything.

Not meeting her eyes, you squeak out, “Yes?”

She doesn’t say anything at first, only surveying you with that same, scrutinising, unsettling expression as you carefully retrieve your half-full glass, everything on edge.

“Something you’d like to say?”

“No, not really.”

She just hums in response, bringing the phone back up to go to the next lot of photos, these of Tae. She drops the conversation there, but you’re under no allusions as to what she’s figured out and what she hasn’t. The faint blush on your cheeks should be indication enough, if your blatant ogling wasn’t. All she does is give you a gleeful, knowing look, one that’s full of significance and that reads ‘I know what this is about, but I won’t make you talk about it now because you look like you’re about to shit a brick,’ before she clears her throat and continues scrolling through the photos.

You’re apprehensive as you do the same, leaning back to your previous position and casting a dubious sideways glance at her, but all she does is roll her eyes and say, “You think too much.”

Real genius, that one.

Either way, you’re grateful she doesn’t bring it up then. Or later, when you’re both eating ramen out of the pot as Seinfeld plays on the television. Or even in the dark, when you’re both about to fall asleep, because the older you’ve gotten, the more you’ve begun to truly appreciate the sleep part of sleepovers. The next morning, as she’s waving you away at the door, the only indication she gives that she even remembers the conversation is a wink and a ‘Don’t worry.’

She should become a therapist, what with all her golden wisdom.

“Come again?”

Exasperated, you sigh before you obediently repeat, kicking your feet up on the counter and leaning back languidly on the rolling chair, “Jungkook’s late.”

Yoongi looks at you suspiciously as he repeatedly pokes your shin to get you to remove your shoes from his precious work station. “But Jungkook’s never late. That’s your thing.”

Scowling, you impatiently swat his hand away as you reply, “Yes, I know. But he got held up at work.”

He gives up, resigning himself to moving the needles away to keep them safe from your pivoting feet. “I keep telling him he should quit. What kind of company makes their employees stay this late on a Friday evening?”

“Luxury magazines for affluent readers,” you respond, your fingers up in air quotes. “Either way, if his novel does well, he’s out.”

Infuriatingly predictably, you had chickened out of asking Tae and Jimin about using their store for practice. And Jungkook hadn’t even thought about it, which was great. In fact, you hadn’t spoken to Jimin the entire week. You wouldn’t go so far as to say you had been avoiding him, but twice, when Jungkook had tried getting the three of you together ‘like the old times', you had lied about having office work, despite the fact that this had been the most relaxing week in your intern life so far.

The past four weeknights were spent in your new practice studio: the backroom in Yoongi’s tattoo parlour. You wouldn’t say it's the most ideal of spots for multiple reasons.

One of them being that every time you’re late (read: every evening so far), Jungkook and Yoongi have a jolly good time talking shit about you. You’d think your roommate and your brother would hold some amount of love and respect, but when you had entered the room on Monday evening at 7:15 PM, they were compiling a lovely list of Top Ten Times Y/N Has Embarrassed Herself In Public. And they didn’t even have the gall to seem sheepish. Jungkook had just looked at your scowl with an amused grin and Yoongi had said, “If you’re late tomorrow, we're going to make one for the number of times you’ve whined about something stupid.”

And then on Tuesday evening, when you had dawdled for too long around the corner, trying to decide between having dinner before or after practice (and eventually settling on skipping the meal entirely), you had entered the shop at 7:21 PM, only to see Jennie and Jungkook engaged in a wonderful conversation about God knows what, all smiles and ‘Nice to meet you!’s. You were stuttering through your customary, “Oh! Hel – hi!” with Jungkook snickering in the background when Yoongi came out from the back, tossed you the keys and told you to lock up, and then swept a very bemused Jennie out the front door.

Wednesday was fun, in that Yoongi was busy with a late appointment and you and Jungkook made some headway, but on Thursday, Hobi decided to sit in, so it ended up being two hours of ‘What are you doing with your hands?’ and ‘Make it look natural, guys,’ as he and Yoongi traded sips from the emergency whiskey flask that your brother keeps in the shop.

And now, 7:30 PM, Friday evening. Two weeks left for the competition and you and Jungkook have been getting on fairly well, better than you had anticipated. If only he'd show up.

You send him a message, deciding to call him if he doesn’t reply in the next ten minutes, when you hear a polite knock on the door. Confused, you look at Yoongi with a tilt of your head. Jin’s out of town, Hobi doesn’t knock and Jungkook sure as hell doesn’t knock. He looks just as bewildered as you, letting go of the tattoo pen he was in the process of arranging and slowly walking towards the door. A louder, more urgent knock comes and you let your feet fall on the floor with a thud as Yoongi hastens to open it.

You hear the voice before you see the owner, nearly falling off your chair as you make a clear path to the sofa at the end of the room as Jimin and Yoongi carry a clearly unconscious Jungkook to it, laying him down as you rush behind them, worriedly asking the newcomer, feelings be damned, “What happened?”

“I was passing by when I saw him walk into a pole and fall down,” Jimin replies.

You don’t want to laugh, you really don’t, but as Yoongi sprinkles some water on your dance partner’s face and he slowly begins to stir, you can’t stop a simultaneously relieved and disbelieving giggle from erupting.

“He what?” you ask, calming down enough to kneel down on the floor, next to Yoongi, and look in awe at your roommate, marveling at his stupidity.

Jimin shrugs as he explains, “He was looking at his phone and just sort of walked into the pole. I didn’t know where to take him, but I remembered you saying something about your brother having a tattoo parlour somewhere here and figured I’d try my luck.”

“He weighs a ton. How did you carry him?” Yoongi asks as he adjusts Jungkook so he isn’t in danger of falling off.

“It wasn’t easy,” he replies. “What does he eat?”

“Protein mostly,” you respond, as Jungkook finally opens his eyes. You imagine it must be quite an experience for somebody to come back to consciousness and see three half-amused half-concerned faces swimming above them, but Jungkook handles it admirably.

“Wazza?” he blearily asks, drool slipping out the side of his mouth as he struggles to sit up.

The three of you back away, Yoongi handing him a bottle of water.

“You’re in my place. You fell outside. Jimin got you here.”

Jungkook gulps some water as he tenderly presses at the faintly purpling bruise right at the centre of his forehead. “Oh, thanks. Did I look cool?”

Jimin winces before replying. “You walked into a metal pole, so I’d say no.”

If your roommate were a normal, sane man, he’d be upset on receiving this news. At least slightly embarrassed. Not that his line of questioning had indicated anything even remotely resembling intelligence, but you’d think that at this point, he’d make up. But on the contrary, his glazed eyes clear up and a gleeful look overtakes his face.

“Do you think he has a concussion,” you mutter out of the side of your mouth to Jimin, as Jungkook opens his mouth to say something.

The giggle you get in response should not make you feel like prancing around in a field of roses and calling all humans your best friends.

“I remember why I was distracted! I got it!”

“Got what, a disease?”

For somebody who was recently unconscious, he’s capable of a great stink eye. You’re vaguely impressed.

“I got the next scene. Where’s my phone?”

Jimin moves towards the couch, pulling Jungkook’s mobile out of his back pocket and handing it to him. “Maybe don’t type while walking on the road next time,” he grins as he takes a seat next to him.

You hadn’t noticed Yoongi leaving the room, but he walks back in now with a bottle of fruit juice, speaking as he makes his way to the couch that the three of you are now sitting on, Jungkook feverishly going through a word document in the middle.

“This reminds me of when you all would come over and sit for hours on the couch in front of the television at home. Mom would give you all the snacks and then send me to do a grocery run at that corner shop the moment you left,” he says, fond smile on his lips as he gives Jungkook the bottle.

In a trice, that’s where you are, ten years old, Jungkook sitting wide eyed as you quickly got bored and kept changing channels because ‘This is my house, so I get to decide what we’re watching,’ and Jimin giggling ever so often at the miscellaneous cartoons you skimmed through.

“Shit, that couch was the best,” present Jimin sighs as he leans back on the seat, you and Jungkook nodding in agreement.

It’s easier to think of him that way. As your best friend of eight years that you shared all the drama and excitement and blown-out-of-proportion, self obsessed sadness that came with infancy, adolescence and preteen years, who left right before middle school, cutting your trio down to two. Maybe if he had left later, it wouldn’t be so hard to navigate him now, but you were all too young to keep in touch, and school and extra curriculars took over and now, seeing him after all these years, he’s just lying in that sweet spot between achingly familiar and unsettlingly different.

You don’t realise you’ve zoned out until Yoongi asks, “Do you guys still need the place for practice tonight or can I lock up?”

“Oh, I saw that you two were paired together in the sign-up form! Is this where you’re practicing?”

“Yup,” Jungkook replies, making sure his juice bottle is out of your reach. He’s probably noticed you eyeing it like a cat about to pounce for the last few seconds. “Where are you and Taemin practicing? Do you get extra BigHit room privileges?”

Jimin sighs a little, disappointed frown on his face that you realise, with a start, you want to kiss away. And then, belatedly, you wonder why you’re even surprised any more. “We had to drop out. Taemin got too busy with organising the competition and by the time he told me, it was too late to sign up as a solo performer.”

You can tell he’s upset, but he does an admirable job covering it up, pouted lips morphing in a wide smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he continues, “But I’m super excited to watch you guys on stage, though!”

All intentions of grabbing Jungkook’s bottle when he’s distracted fly out the window at the sympathy you feel. If that day, when you saw him dance in that practice room, is any indication, it can’t be easy for him to sit back and watch others on a stage participating in a competition he can win with his eyes closed.

“Oh, that sucks, man,” Jungkook says as you wrack your brain for something that sounds a little less hollow and a little more comforting. You come up empty and offer a sympathetic grimace, but somehow, you think he understands what you’re trying to convey. Like that secret code the three of you had, where vowels were consonants and consonants were vowels and everything had to be written upside down except every fifth letter, italics optional but preferred. You had a lot of time on your hands.

“You can watch us practice, though, maybe. And help out? You used to be the best at choreography,” Jungkook says with a grin, blindsiding you with his request.

“I’d love that!” Jimin responds, and you feel a thrill at how he doesn’t fake modesty, at the hint of cockiness that comes through in his voice.

Perhaps it’s the fact that Jungkook's just woken and the bruise on his forehead is only slightly lessening, or maybe that Yoongi’s right there, still waiting to find out if he should close up shop now or not and that he’s always been perceptive, but you force yourself to calm down. So what if Jimin watches you dance? You both went for class together for years. No biggie. Not worth giving your roommate another bruise.

“Can you dance now? Or do you want to just go home and continue tomorrow?” you ask, clutching at straws.

“I think I can dance, I feel fine. Fruit juice was great,” Jungkook says, making to get up.

“Yeah, Jennie got it from one of those organic stores she shops in,” Yoongi replies, nasty turtle dove making a reappearance.

You’re about to gag, or very pointedly look away, but before you can so much as decide on your method of conveying disgust, Jungkook, in the process of standing up, folds in on himself, knees buckling as he lets out a pained grunt. You, Jimin and Yoongi act on impulse, arms jerking out and catching him before he can fall, eyes wide with surprise and concern.

He settles back in his previous position and gingerly bends down, experimentally twisting his right ankle and hissing out a pained ‘Fuck.’

“I think it’s a sprain,” he winces, slowly moving it forward until another distressed flinch casts a shadow over his face.

Jimin bites his lip worriedly on Jungkook’s other side and you watch Yoongi help him slowly take off his shoes with a grimace.

“Y/N, there’s an ice pack in the mini fridge in my office.”

You don’t let him continue, only nodding as you swiftly rise after casting another anxious look at Jungkook, who’s looking everywhere but at his leg.

On your return, you see him lying face down on the couch, right foot propped over one arm rest as Yoongi says, “He must have fallen at a weird angle. It only seems like a sprain, but I don’t think he should dance.”

Jimin looks impressed as he watches Yoongi expertly place the ice pack in position and Jungkook huffs in simultaneous relief and disappointment.

“A million basketball injuries will do that to you,” you reply in answer to Jimin’s unasked question.

“What about the competition?” Jungkook whines.

You’re surprised to find the tinge of disappointment when you shrug and say, “We'll have to drop out. I’ll let Taemin know in class tomorrow and tell him to take us off the list.”

“But the choreography!”

Jimin steadies him as Jungkook slowly sits up, adjusting so he’s holding the ice pack, scandalised expression on his face as he looks at your drooped shoulders.

“Nothing we can do about it. Maybe we’ll try again next year.”

And then he gets that look. That expression that indicates that he’s thinking of an idea that’s good for him but sucky for you. Slowly, he swivels his head towards a confused Jimin sitting next to him before moving towards you, eyebrows scrunched, deep in thought. You can practically see the gears shifting in his head.

Warily, you ask, “Kook?”

His eyes are still narrowed and moving, but the frown slowly morphs into a small smile as he distractedly, instinctively replies to your question. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Is there...is there something on my face?” Jimin enquires, slowly backing away on the couch.

Only the cutest fucking pout I’ve ever seen in my life, your brain unhelpfully supplies.

Jungkook doesn’t directly answer, but finally begins to explain why he looks like an automated form of The Thinker, his grin slowly growing. “You guys could do it together.”

“Do what?” Jimin asks.

It, your permanently horny inner voice replies.

Out loud, you ask, “Kook, what are you talking about?”

“You guys can go for the competition together! Jimin can be your partner instead of me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I don’t mind.”

You turn your determined, closed off face to Jimin’s calmly curious expression in astonishment.

“What?” you demand.

“I don’t mind,” he repeats, shrugging but cautious at your unexpected vehemence. “If you still want to perform and need a partner, I’d love to step in.”

Jungkook claps in glee as you continue staring, mouth opening and closing like a fish, but no sound coming out.

“Then it's settled!” he says before a shrewd expression overtakes his face, single eyebrow cocked as he looks at you with challenge in his eyes. “Unless...Y/N has objections?”

You’re caught facing the barrel of a loaded gun, Yoongi behind you, obviously already intrigued by your uncharacteristically passionate reaction, Jimin on the couch, pleasant smile playing on his face, eager with the thought of being given a chance to perform but not wanting to guilt you into anything and Jungkook, big brain Jungkook, disaster child Jungkook, waiting for you to make your decision. As soon as you see the small glint in his eyes, a niggling doubt emerges in your head about whether he’s managed to figure out your feelings before you’ve even accepted them yourself.

With an internal sigh, you plaster on a smile and reply, “Nope. No objections.”

Jungkook’s face clears, a brief flash of victory in his eyes before he beckons you closer, holding his right arm out for you to sling over your shoulder as he stands up.

Jimin gives you a satisfied grin, chuckling and taking your stupid roommate’s other arm as you nearly buckle under the weight.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Yoongi! How you and Y/N share the same blood, I’ll never know.”

Yoongi snickers, “You and me both, dude. Try not to put too much weight on your foot!”

And if you give a small pinch to the side of Jungkook’s waist where your hand is resting, that’s your business (and your satisfaction when you feel him flinch).

“Do you need any help getting him home?” Jimin asks as the three of you wait outside the building under the dark sky waiting for the cab to arrive.

You’re still reeling from the developments of the last few minutes, head terrified but heart perversely gleeful, and you don’t look directly at him when you reply, opting instead to direct your gaze at the little black dot on the map on your phone that indicates where the car is. “No, I can manage, thank you.”

Once Jungkook’s safely inside the car, Jimin doesn’t let you immediately follow suit, stopping you with a smile outside your roommate’s closed door before you can round the vehicle.

His body isn’t too close, but in your head, you run through the choreography that the two of you will be doing, and you know that that’s going to be far from true over the next two weeks.

“Hey, are you alright? You don’t have to dance with me if you don’t want to. You seemed a bit uncomfortable back there, when Kook suggested it.” He looks sheepish almost, but understanding, palm coming up to rub nervously at the back of his neck and other hand inside the pocket of his black jeans.

As he slightly rocks forward and back, you want to grab his face, bring them down to your level, look him the eye and tell him, equally stern and emotional, that he has occupied so much of your mind for the last week and that if there’s anybody here who should be unsure about this, it’s him.

You clear your throat under his light gaze before you reply, confidently as you can, “I was just thrown by the change of plans. I’d love to dance with you, honestly. I still think about that day we first met- well, met again- when you were practicing and how I’ve never seen anybody dance like that before.”

You’re as surprised by he is at the confession, immediately wanting to backtrack, but you don’t have the opportunity. A faint blush emerges on his cheeks as he looks away from your gaze, eyes crinkling in an embarrassed grin.

“Ah, Y/N,” he honest to God whines before taking a few deep calming breaths. You watch in fascination as all this unravels, drinking in this new Jimin. Fondly, before you can intercept it, the thought enters- you want to see just how many sides he has, want to experience them and revel in them.

“Thank you,” he mumbles with a small smile.

You can’t help but smile back, and the two of you are left grinning softly like a pair of fools at each other until a smart rap sounds on the window right next to you, making you startle into awareness.

Both of you turn to the car and see Jungkook peering through the glass with an expectant look on his face. ‘Are you coming?’ he mouths.

Flustered, you nod and give Jimin a small wave before going around him and entering the vehicle from the other side.

You’re too preoccupied to notice Jungkook staring at you, same shrewd look as last Saturday on his face, but when he lets out a soft ‘Ahem,’ you turn your head to look at him.

His expression is closed, and hardly clear as his face only gets illuminated passingly by the occasional streetlight, but his tone leaves no room for doubt when he says, lips quirking upwards in a small, teasing grin, “If you keep smiling like that when you’re talking to him, somebody could get the wrong idea.”

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s the end of the week and you’re too tired for confrontation, or that your roommate has a sprained ankle and you don’t want to cause him any more grief, or that you’ve finally accepted the state of affairs, but you don’t resort to your knee-jerk reaction of denial.

With a small sigh, you softly reply, not making much sense when taken in context of the conversation but conveying everything that needs to be conveyed either way, “Yeah.”

He looks surprised at your response, probably expecting a huff and an ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ but says nothing, just smiling at you kindly as you let your head fall on his shoulder.

“We can go to the doctor tomorrow morning and get your ankle checked, skip dance class,” you mumble as you watch the street ahead of you sideways, fingers absently fiddling with the strap of Jungkook’s bag in your lap.

He hums in reply, and you appreciate the silence, grateful that he knows you well enough to not bombard you right now.

Jimin (Do Not Interact) : Hey, this is Jimin! Park Jimin. Uhhh Chimmy Jimin. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that the shipments to the shop are a little delayed so we can practice in the backroom. It’ll be a bigger space than Yoongi's studio. I’m always here so let me know when we can start :D

You read and reread the message that was sent an hour ago, absently chewing your thumb nail.

“You do that a lot.”

“Do what?” you mumble, running through all the possibilities in your head.

Chuckling, Hoseok replies while shifting gears, “Look at your phone all worried. You’ve started a bit early today, though. And it’s still Monday. Bad weekend?”

Sighing, you reply, “Not particularly. Just...worried.”

“Anything I can help with?” he asks, patiently curious.

You flash back to ten years ago when Hoseok used to give you snacks whenever you accidentally (read: not) entered whichever room your brother and his friends were holed up in, kind, cheerful smile on his face as you shyly took whatever sweet treat you were being given that day before sprinting out of the room.

Taking a deep breath, already in awe at what you’re about to do, you tilt your phone towards him as he slows down at a signal.

He peers at the screen, looks up at you with a confused expression, and reads the message again.

“Is there something I’m missing?” he asks, as the light turns green and he starts the car again.

“First of all, why is he texting sense at 8 o' clock in the morning?”

“Y/N, have you ever considered the existence of people who enjoy waking up early?”

“Bet you’re one of them,” you huff.

He snorts before waving his hand in ‘Go on' gesture.

“Why is he sending smileys? What’s he so happy about?”

“Jesus Christ, he's just being nice, dude. How are you overthinking an emoticon? It isn’t even an emoji – are you blushing?”

“No, I’m not,” you say loudly, fighting through the unplanned flush on your face. Stupid smiley.

Your companion laughs as he sputters, “Okay, but I have a few questions myself.”

At your haughty nod after you’ve taken a few calming breaths, he continues, “Did he really think you wouldn’t remember him when you, very obviously, have a big, fat crush on him? Chimmy Jimin?”

“Stop,” you whine. In an undertone, you add, “That’s what I used to call him when we were kids. And it isn’t a crush.”

You’ve never been happier to see the office park.

“Are you going to reply?” Hobi asks, pulling into the mostly empty car park. “You know, because you’ve saved his name with ‘Do Not Interact'?”

You roll your eyes even as you know that your thumbs have been hovering over the keypad for the greater part of the last hour. “I will. Soon.”

“You literally just have to say yes or no. I’ll dictate it for you if you want. Yes Chimmy, I love you so much or No Chimmy, I love you so much.”

“Shut up,” you say, glaring at him as he laughs, thoroughly amused by himself. You both get your bags from the back, making your way into the building, text still open in your hand.

You’ve been staring at it for so long, that at first, you think you’ve imagined the green dot next to his name.

“Fuck, he's online,” you mutter in front of the lifts as Hobi giggles at your worried expression.

“Dude, just say yes or no, it isn’t a big deal.”

With a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, you slowly begin to type.

Sure, that’s a great idea! How does 6 PM today evening work for you?

“Perfect,” Hobi says, holding up three fingers in an OK sign when you tilt your screen towards him for approval.

“Smiley face?” you tentatively ask.

“It'd be accurate, you’re definitely happy."

You settle for a :) so it’s low-key before hitting send and immediately shoving your phone into your pocket, shaking your head to clear it for work.

“At the rate you’re going, you’ll have no nail left.”

“I am not entirely opposed to the idea.”

From the back of the car, Jungkook lets out a disgusted ‘Ew' even as he continues scrolling through his phone, absently biting his own index nail.

“Are you excited?”

“To get this over with? Yeah.”

Jungkook scoffs from the back. “There’s that charming Y/N optimism.”

“Don’t fight, children,” Hyejin says pacifyingly from her place behind the wheel. “We can tease her when she’s being a mess around Jimin.”

You scowl but have no comeback, because you can’t find the lie. In the backseat, Jungkook rubs his hands together like an evil fly.

“If I didn’t know that you’re perfectly capable of doing something as stupid as walking into a pole, I would’ve thought you set this up on purpose.”

He looks wounded at your comment, holding up a dramatic hand to place over his heart.

“We're here!” Hyejin calls out before any more confrontation happens, pulling up next to the curb.

“Thanks for coming along,” you sigh as you unbuckle your seatbelt, opting to leave your office bag in the car and only carrying your phone and water bottle.

Before Hyejin can reply, because obviously, the gratitude was aimed at her, Jungkook says, “No problem!”

You’re sure to gently jostle him a little as you loop his arm over your shoulder, helping him out of the car as you deadpan, “I was talking about Hyejin, fool. You practically begged to come along.”

He clicks his tongue in admonishment. “Is that any way to treat your injured best friend? After everything I’ve done for you?”

The eye roll is instinctive, but the banter serves to loosen you up a bit, weirdly calming down the butterflies in your stomach. Jungkook staying at home the entire day and not being allowed to work out means a lot of unspent energy, and you have no doubt that he’s going to be in full exuberance for the rest of the evening, at least until the painkillers kick in. You? You’d rather be anywhere but here, waiting for Hyejin to lock the car outside The VMin Experience at 5:55 PM, straight from work for dance practice with your...friend.

And if you’d prefer to spend your utopian free time scrolling through said friend's Instagram feed, that’s between you and God and your phone battery percentage.

“No thanks needed, I’m very excited to observe your reactions now that I have some background information,” Hyejin says gaily, sharing a beaming grin with Jungkook.

She pushes open the door as you let out a long, drawn out sigh and resist the urge to drop your roommate’s ass then and there when he theatrically whispers, “Happy face, Y/N. Happy face.”

________________________________

“You good?” Jimin asks, only faintly panting, a single drop of sweat running down the side of his neck as he watches you, your hands clutching at the slowly forming stitch on your hip.

“Pe- Peachy,” you reply with a weak smile, gulping for air. Your legs feel like they’re gonna give out at any moment and even with the central cooling in the room, you could really go for an ice bath.

You bend at the waist, bracing your palms on your slightly bent knees. A bottle of water appears in your line of vision and you look up to see a kindly grinning Jimin.

“Let’s take a break, yeah? Five minutes,” he says, giving you a short, and what is probably meant to be comforting, pat on your back, but only serves to drag out the ongoing process of your heart calming down.

You’d think, after nearly an hour and a half of having his hands on your waist, fingers tracing your neck, palms closing around yours and the both of you moving together, you wouldn’t continue having all these physical reactions to a mere skim of skin over your clothed spine, but when has your body ever had a logical response to Jimin’s presence in the last few weeks?

Your breath slows down as you walk slowly around the room, looking at Jimin perfecting a step out of the corner of your eye. In the corner, Hyejin's subconsciously mirroring the dance as she shoots you a grin and a thumbs up. Your eyes sluggishly move to Jungkook, who looks like his painkillers have just kicked in, his eyes fighting to stay open even as he has an amused smile on his face.

The first thirty minutes had consisted of Jungkook teaching Jimin his steps with you as a prop, which basically meant you were passed back and forth as Jungkook explained as well as he could on one leg and Jimin caught on incredibly fast. It had been shockingly simple to dance with him, to let your body move with his and dip and soar step after step as he flawlessly executed the movements after watching Jungkook just once or twice.

You had nearly gotten caught staring at the furrow in his eyebrow as he concentrated, a similar pout on your lips as you yearned to lean up and smooth it out, but Jungkook had been too preoccupied to comment and you gave yourself a good, strong pep talk to focus.

And now it’s nearing 8 PM and you’ve just completed the first proper run-through, your body burning and your nerves hyper aware but so satisfied at the completion of a smooth rehearsal. In some weird, twisted way, it’s easy to not pay attention to the nervous, frazzled, constantly overthinking voices about Jimin in your head when you’re dancing with him.

Feeling a little calmer, you turn back around while gulping some water and see Jimin gathering his hair off his forehead and tying it up in a small ponytail, shorter strands falling out and hanging as wisps.

“Ready?” he asks with a grin, hand held out in your direction when he sees that you’re looking at him.

You swallow with difficulty and try not to be too transparent about the effect this new hairstyle is having on you as you muster a smile and nod, placing your palm in his, fingers only twitching slightly.

Hyejin stifles a short giggle, morphing it into a cough as you shoot her a sharp look before she restarts the track on the phone.

The piano intro begins, build up in the song already evident as Jimin pulls you close for the start position. You let the music wash over you, anchoring yourself in the sound and running through the steps in your head. Steeling your nerves, you meet Jimin’s eyes as you straighten your back, finding them twinkling in anticipation and unwavering concentration, gaze boring deep into yours as you both begin the routine again.

The rain is starting to come down heavier as you huddle close to the wall of the security cabin, trying to fit as much of your body as you can under the awning. Your laptop bag is secure in your arms as you use it to cover your chest, trying to receive some kind of warmth against the wind that’s picking up pace.

With a sigh, you unlock your phone for the fifth time in two minutes, checking if Tae’s given you his ETA. On seeing no new messages or missed calls, you close it again and let out a low groan.

A particularly strong gust of wind makes you shiver as you idly curse at your own stupidity for not checking the time while debugging the latest code you had been assigned and ending up leaving this late. If Hobi had come to the office today, he would have made sure you left on time, probably annoyed you into it as he played his stupid, TikTok songs playlist next to your desk until you agreed.

But he’s sick and you had spent twenty minutes sitting through awfully cheery morning radio in your Uber in the morning, too scared to request the driver to change it. And now, you’re standing outside the office building in the dark, waiting for Tae to come pick you up because no cabs are available.

The last message on your phone from him reads leaving in five! and that was sent fifteen minutes ago. You’re too caught up in trying to calculate what that means, time and math-wise, that you only realise that your boss’s car has drawn to a stop in front of you when the passenger seat window is rolled down and her concerned face appears, leaning over from behind the wheel.

You immediately straighten up from the wall, absently shivering against the droplets that hit your face and arms as you politely smile. Apparently, you weren’t the last one to leave.

“Get in!” she shouts to be heard over the sound of the rain, and at this point, you’re too cold and miserable to disobey. You transfer your bag and phone to one hand, pulling the door open and sliding in as gracefully as you can when your eyes are shut and your head is ducked to avoid the rain you’re momentarily exposed to. Which isn’t very graceful at all.

You nearly moan at the warmth inside the car, immediately feeling yourself getting less cranky.

“How come you’re leaving so late?” Jennie asks, moving the car so she can stop it against the curb before turning up the heat a little more when she notices you slightly shivering still.

“I was debugging something and lost track of time,” you say with a wince.

She nods in understanding, the light of the streetlamp casting a shine on her long, straight black hair as she pushes her glasses up.

“You have a ride back home? I noticed that you and Hoseok carpool but he didn’t come in to work today.”

“Yeah, my friend’s coming to pick me up. He should be here…sometime soon, hopefully.”

“I’ll wait with you,” she says. “I don’t want you falling sick, too.”

You accept with a grateful nod, more than willing to spend the next few minutes inside here rather than out in the rain.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s a Thursday evening (night) and you’re going through the crushing, midweek existential crisis you’re prey to; or that the rain outside is getting heavier, small flashes of lightning indicating a larger incoming storm and you’re glad to have some kind of shelter; or maybe even that there’s a satisfying sort of soreness to your limbs from the now regular dancing, not painful but just present enough for you to feel content that you’ve done something, but the regular awkwardness seems practically non-existent.

Jennie doesn’t say anything, just quietly observes the rain from her seat, placid smile on her face like she’s been sheltering cold, helpless interns since she was four years old, and you feel no inclination to break the comforting silence, preferring to rub your palms in front of the heater vents, letting them warm up.

Until your phone begins to vibrate on your lap, caller ID reading Tae.

Eagerly, you accept the call, putting the phone to your ear. As fun as hiding out in your boss's car is, nothing sounds better than your bed and some pillows and a warm blanket.

“Talk to me,” you say immediately, anticipating good news.

There’s static for a while and you hear some talking in the background, something about boxes and back rooms before Tae's voice comes clear.

“There’s been a change of plans,” he starts, and you note with slight concern that there’s no sound of a running engine or rain on his end.

Warily, you ask, “What do you mean?”

A door closes in the background and now you can hear him easier, like he’s gone to a quiet place.

“A shipment got delivered early and since it was in my name, I couldn’t leave the shop.”

You feel your heart sink at his words, knowing from prior experience that it could take up to an hour for him to make it. In the suddenly deafening quiet of the car, his tinny voice through your phone rings clearly and you have no doubt Jennie heard. To her credit, she pretends to have not been paying attention, only continuing to look out of the window.

“Can you still make it?” you ask, cursing the day you and Jungkook decided to buy that washing machine that ate into your savings so much that you haven’t been able to purchase your own car.

He makes a soothing hum before replying, slowly and then all at once, “No, but Jimin is coming to get you and he should be there in five minutes tops.”

And now, in a rush, you’re seized up, unable to say anything except a tiny ‘Okay,’ in a voice that suggests that it isn’t really okay at all, if Tae's low chuckle is anything to go by.

It’s all fun and games having that rose-tinted feeling of liking somebody and being able to spend time with them and really embracing those giddy butterflies in your stomach every time you’re both in the same room, but when push comes to shove and you have to spend an extended period of time alone together without the buffer of music and the purpose of dance, you can think of few things more intimidating.

At your small tone, Tae replies, putting you more on edge, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to engage, he's pretty tired too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t mind engaging with him,” you respond, probably too defensive to seem convincing and too rushed to mask your knee-jerk panicked reaction.

He doesn’t give you a straight answer, and even though you can’t see him, you know his palm is held up in a pacifying gesture. “I’m just saying, when you like somebody, you tend to avoid one-on-one interaction with them which isn’t exactly conducive for fostering romance.”

“Fucking hell, does everybody know?” you groan as your head hits the back of the seat with a dull thud, momentarily forgetting about where you are and whom you’re with.

“Everybody except Jimin!” Tae replies cheerfully. In the background, you hear somebody asking for him.

You have no valid reply, only uttering a soft ‘Okay, bye,’ when Tae signs off by saying, “Okay, I have to go now. He’s coming in my car and should be there soon. Text me when you get home!”

Hanging up, you sigh, turning around to face Jennie who’s looking at you with a concerned expression.

“All good?”

Resisting the urge to bite your fingernails as you’re wont to do in high pressure, nervously anticipatory situations like this, you muster a weak smile and reply, “Yeah, everything’s fine. He should be here in a bit.”

She nods, accepting your half-baked response without question.

At that moment, through the sheets of rain, you see a familiar silver sedan pulling up on the opposite side of the road. Squinting, you read the number plate, and once you’ve deduced that it is, in fact, Tae's, you turn to Jennie and say, “That’s him. Thank you for waiting with me.”

She waves away your gratitude with a small smile, but stops you when you’re about to push open the door with a clearing of her throat.

Gentle but insistently, she slowly says, “From one woman to another, if you want something, you should go for it. Don’t hang around being scared or waiting for something to happen.”

So she did hear after all.

You don’t know what to make of it, don’t have any reply to her statement that won’t sound silly, can’t figure out a way to convey that yes, you agree with her one hundred percent, but this situation is different.

Your phone vibrates and you see the caller ID.

Jimin (Interact Only For Practice)

The headlights in the car opposite are blinking on and off, probably to signal to you that he’s arrived in case you don’t pick up your phone and you’re saved the bother of a reply by Jennie smiling kindly at your half-pleading half-flabbergasted expression and saying, “He's waiting for you."

With a gulp, you can do nothing but nod and stutter out another ‘Th-Thanks,’ before you push the door open and jog to the other side of the road towards your ride.

_____________________________

“Here, I thought you might need this.”

There’s a sweatshirt placed on your lap, something soft, warm and as far as you can make out in the dim lighting of the car, black.

He does look tired, faint bags under his eyes that are missing their regular sparkle. He gives you a small smile, though, as he jerks his head in the direction of the fabric he’s set down on your thighs.

“You look cold. Do you want me to turn up the heat?” he asks, slightly husky voice, all kindness. You might not be particularly fond of water at the moment, given that it’s dripping from your hair and making your clothes stick uncomfortably to your skin, but given the chance, you’d drown in his voice right now.

“No, it’s perfect. Thanks for coming,” you reply, looking away under the pretense of tugging the hoodie over your head, unable to stare at him without needing to combust any longer.

It isn’t too big for you, just hanging a little bit off of your frame, but it engulfs you perfectly, immediately making you feel cozy and warm.

He starts the car, the bracelets on his arm jiggling lightly as he pushes it into gear. “No problem, really. I don’t mind helping out. Especially if it means you don’t end up staying in the rain and catching a cold.”

An easy smile accompanies his words, and you can only mumble something unintelligible in response, simultaneously flattered, shy and annoyed that you’re feeling.

A comfortable silence settles for an indeterminate period of time. It can’t be more than five minutes, but it feels like much longer before you muster up enough courage to ask, “How are things going at the shop? Everything running on schedule?”

“Yeah, more or less. Hectic, though. Nobody told us it would be this much work.”

There’s no bite in his words, just a mix of passive regret and satisfaction at taking up such a large project and seeing it go through.

“I can tell,” you reply, trying to be supportive. “Tae doesn’t send me as many cat videos as he used to anymore.”

The laugh that you get in response puts angels to shame, and you’re not sure you quite manage to keep the sappy fondness out of your expression when you take in the more relaxed droop in his shoulders and the smoothening of his face, at least a fraction of his regular happiness making a return.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” he starts, the atmosphere in the car a little lighter and easier now, thanks to your stellar comedic timing.

“About Tae's cat videos?”

He shoots you a grin as he replies teasingly, “Maybe later. I was talking about the store opening.”

“Has there been a change of date? Last I checked, it was scheduled for Friday, the 17th.”

“It still is. But Boom is on the 18th, so any last minute run-throughs we'll have to get done in the next six days.”

You nod, thoughtfully. “I think we can make that work. We’re in a pretty good position.”

“We work well together,” he says, agreeing, probably not realising that his statement has just sent every nerve ending you have on high alert, shocking you out of that false sense of security you’ve been cocooned in for most of the conversation so far.

You mumble a slow ‘Yeah,’ as he absentmindedly pulls into your road, slowing down as he reaches the apartment.

Whatever ease you were feeling earlier has flown out the window, and now you want nothing more than to leave.

“Thanks for the ride! Oh, let me give you your hoodie bac-"

“Keep it.”

You look up from his hand atop yours, stilling your fingers in their momentarily abandoned mission at the side of your hip, his palm settling atop your fisted knuckles that have fabric twisted in them.

It’s like time’s paused as you see his kind smile, feel the warmth of his hand and the chill of the tips of his fingers that are almost cupping yours.

Swallowing when he makes no attempt to move them, just looking at you half-warning and half-gentle, like he’s daring you to return his sweatshirt when you’re still cold and wet and obviously need it for the walk up to the front door, you softly ask, partly whispering, though you’re not sure why, “Are you sure?”

He doesn’t break eye contact, just gently giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it, fingers curling around the wheel once more as he replies, “Yeah, you can return it at our next practice session.”

“Okay,” you mumble, nodding unconsciously and lifting your bag from the floor of the car as if in a dream, waving goodbye hazily until you’re taking the stairs up to your floor.

You unlock the door, and the moment it shuts behind you, you’re turning around and letting your body sag against it, slumped with your bag in one hand and the keys limp in the other.

You distantly hear Jungkook calling out from the living room, his voice getting louder as he limps towards you.

“Y/N, is that you?”

You don’t have it in you to reply, only grunting as you face his approaching form absently.

“Whose jacket is that?”

Fuck.

“Wow.”

You nod, mouth open as you stop next to a similarly gaping Jungkook, frozen in front of the newly unveiled storefront.

The sound of your cab driving away goes unnoticed as you both take in the transformation from the last time you had been here, nearly a week ago.

Since the shop had finally gotten too crowded with items and display pieces, and the storeroom actually had things to be stored, you and Jimin had moved your practices back to your living room with all the furniture (a grand total of one couch and a coffee table) pushed right up to the wall. Consequentially, you haven’t seen the shop in little more than a week.

The cheap plastic board that had been there earlier is now a sleek black and silver plaque with The VMin Experience written on it in that clean, classy, elongated font. From the outside, the freshly wiped glass windows give a direct view into lit up display mannequins clothed in designs. Even at ten in the morning, everything looks sophisticated and chic. There’s a small signboard hanging from the door handle that reads ‘OPENING TODAY!’ right above the PULL sticker.

“Do you think Tae will give us a discount?” you ask, as you take in the pastel pink blazer that the mannequin on the right is wearing.

You aren’t even remotely surprised when your roommate slash the devil incarnate nudges you in the ribs with his elbow and says, grin evident in his voice even if you aren’t looking at him, “I think you’ll have better luck with Jimin.”

After Jimin had dropped you off that night and you had stumbled up to the apartment all in a tizzy, Jungkook had questioned you extensively and didn’t even have the gall to hide his amusement at your retelling. Since then, he’s taken to dropping some very unsubtle hints like leaving post-its around the house with winky faces, which is very unsettling, and always making his SIMS characters kiss whenever you happen to be around.

Mercifully, he hadn’t been too unsufferable whenever Jimin came over for practice, probably realising that it was in his best interests to not antagonise you that much.

And you? You’ve been avoiding everything that even vaguely resembles romantic emotion as staunchly and stubbornly as a mule. God and your phone battery and your browser history (that includes but is not limited to Google searches like crush songs and how to stop thinking, and multiple BuzzFeed articles about zodiac compatibility and quizzes along the general lines of Tell Us Your Favourite Disney Movies And We’ll Tell You If Your Crush Likes You Back, combined with excessive usage of your notes app) might disagree, but that’s nobody’s business.

Especially not Jungkook’s, even if he did hear you singing bubble pop in the shower once.

“After you,” he says, completely ignoring your eye roll and letting you go in front of him, more to avoid the barrage of instructions that you’re both going to be on the receiving end of the moment you step into the store, than any real goodness of his heart.

You flick him half-heartedly on the arm before pulling the door open, immediately assaulted by the smell of fresh items and air conditioning. And something like lavender?

“Oh, good, you’re both here. Could you move that rack a bit to the left?”

You and Jungkook just exchange a short, amused look before obediently moving to opposite sides of the indicated shelf with hangers of clothes and moving it, as directed, a bit to the left.

Taehyung looks uncharacteristically nervous, his usually impeccably trim nails bitten at the edges and a frazzled look on his regularly smooth, bored face, and when the two of you turn to him, ready to receive more directions, he’s in the middle of trying to shift a stand that’s very clearly bolted to the floor.

“Uh, Tae? All good there, buddy?”

You know Jungkook’s talking in that corny voice, calling his friend the superior term of platonic endearment to get him to crack a grin, and it’s worked in the past, but all Tae does now is grunt as he tries harder to push the stubborn stand.

He’s dressed casually in a loose, black and gold button-up shirt tucked into tight, black pants, looking for all he’s worth like a rich patron of a modern art museum or a front row invitee to a global fashion week, but under the lights and with the fancy clothes all around and the sheer aura of expensiveness radiating from every surface of the shop, he fits right in. Apart from the annoyed curl of his lips as he continues his attempt to move a non-budging, nailed down shelf.

An irresistible force against an immovable object, if you will.

Slowly, you and Jungkook approach him, like you’re about to pacify a tantrum throwing toddler.

Hesitantly, you place a palm on his tense shoulder, right as he realises that the stand is attached and lets out an anguished groan.

“Is something wrong?” you ask slowly, when he makes no move to shake your hand off.

He exhales harshly, jaw clenched as he gathers himself before taking a deep breath in.

The verbal reply to your question comes from behind all of you, as Jimin enters the main shop floor from the back room, partway through rolling up the full-length sleeves of his shirt. Your throat goes dry as you take in his formal pants, distantly aware that Taehyung is wearing literally the same thing but had hardly evoked more than a vague sense of appreciation from you.

“He’s been like this all morning,” Jimin says, continuing to make his way closer, looking up for just a second to shoot an amused smile before he goes back to concentrating on rolling his sleeve neatly with one hand.

You don’t know what possesses you to do it, but as you’re looking at his arms twist in his struggle to make it look artfully messy, you blurt out, “Do you need help?”

He gratefully nods, giving up and extending his right arm out to you as he continues, “He wants, and I quote, everything to be so perfect that it puts Hallmark films to shame.”

Behind you, you hear Jungkook snort and reply, “There’s nothing perfect about Hallmark films.”

The sounds of Tae and Kook arguing behind you fade into background noise as you focus on undoing what Jimin’s done so far. You’ve just about finished, tugging out a flap from the fold so it doesn’t look quite so formal and pulling away, when your wrist is caught in a gentle grip.

As studiously as you’ve avoided looking at him directly so far, you can’t stop your gaze from shooting up to his in surprise, breath catching as he smiles at you, a curious mixture of nervousness and anticipation in his eyes.

Dancing together is different from...whatever this is, intense and charged as neither of you look away. The other two have moved towards the back of the shop to prematurely open a champagne bottle for Tae's nerves, but you’re not sure you would have noticed them even if they were still bickering in the vicinity.

He loosens his grip on your hand but doesn’t let go, slightly bending as he says, “Thank you.”

You nod, not trusting your voice and just giving a smile before you gently detach yourself from him, immediately moving towards Jungkook who’s holding out a champagne glass toward you, beckoning you both to participate in the entrepreneurially sanctioned daytime drinking.

As you’re lifting your glass, letting it clink against the others and resolutely not making eye contact with Jimin who’s standing directly opposite you, his cheerful voice joining in the chorus of ‘To paying off student loans!’, your heart and head race a mile a minute.

What does it all mean?

_____________________________

“So he thanked you.”

Huffing, you impatiently repeat to Hyejin's simultaneously confused and unimpressed face, “No, he thanked me.”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

You groan in frustration, letting your arms flop against your sides in abandon as you lean against the side of the closed back room that the two of you have been conversing in for the last ten minutes, ever since you caught sight of her entering the shop and dragged her back right after she congratulated the new business owners.

She had whined a bit about not getting the fancy champagne flute, but once the word ‘Jimin’ had left your mouth, she became mighty compliant.

“I think I’m missing something here. You’re losing your mind in the store room on the opening day of your friends’ shop at 12 PM because...” she trails off, looking at you expectantly with an arched eyebrow.

Something breaks inside you and the next thing you know, you’re venting out in a single breath, nearly tripping over your words, “Because I like Jimin and I think he likes me too, but I’m too scared to say anything or bring it up in case I’m wrong and also, I sort of really want it to be true but I don’t know and I’m scared and I would very much like everything to go back to when this stupid dance competition didn’t exist, because now I keep thinking about ways to spend time with him after tomorrow and I’m embarrassed and feelings suck.”

You’re gasping by the end of it, like you’ve just run a marathon with a cash prize for first place. If you weren’t somehow feeling simultaneously lighter and more exposed, you’d be amused at Hyejin’s expression, but all you can muster is a weak sort of shrug to mask any awkwardness you might be feeling.

She looks like she’s just been slapped across the face with a wet fish, eyes wide and mouth open, but before she can say anything, the door to the left opens and Jungkook walks in, a half-full champagne glass in his hand.

He takes in Hyejin’s expression and your defensive stance that’s combined with the worried furrow of your eyebrows before he slowly says, “I just came here to escape from Yoongi who keeps asking me where his Tupperware is and I’m too scared to tell him I lost it, but there’s a really weird energy in here right now.”

“Jimin thanked Y/N,” Hyejin unhelpfully supplies, looking like she’s slowly regaining her bearings after your emotional outburst.

Jungkook's eyes narrow in confusion as his head tilts, lips pursed. “I feel like there’s more to that story, but I’m not gonna hear any of it.”

You sigh, weight of everything crashing into you as you sit down on the floor cross-legged, staring unseeing at the opposite wall.

At your actions, Jungkook’s eyebrows crease in concern, but his confusion is abundantly evident when he says, “I’m, uh, sure you can tell Jimin not to thank you again if it makes you this sad. Will some champagne make you feel better?”

“Yes, please,” you say, nodding despondently as you accept the glass from him, after which he sits down next to you, twiddling his thumbs, probably wondering why he offered.

For about a minute, the two of you sit there, you completely zoned out, dissociating to cope with the reality of the situation as you take little sips and Jungkook humming something vague, his legs now stretched out in front of him.

You nearly forget that Hyejin’s even in the room until your glass is snatched from your affronted grip and you’re looking up accusingly at her exasperated face.

“Up,” she says shortly, taking one of your hands in hers and pulling you. You have no choice but to follow through, landing shakily and ruefully watching her finish off what’s left of the champagne before she hands the glass to an entertained Jungkook and places both her palms firmly on your shoulders.

Oh no.

“I’m going to tell you something, and you might not like it, but you have to hear it anyway, okay?”

You resist the urge to salute, nodding as you agree. Not that you have an option. You’ve seen Hyejin in intervention mode before, and resisting is like trying to stop a fire from burning.

“You. Are. Incredibly. Stupid.”

Your mouth drops in offense, and you make to defend yourself, but before you can say anything, from the floor, Jungkook cheers, “I knew there was something I missed. What happened?”

Not taking her eyes off of you, Hyejin replies, “Y/N likes Jimin and she thinks he likes her and she’s having a crisis.”

You have hope for a moment, when your trusty roommate scoffs behind you, and you vow to get him something good for his birthday this year, but just as you’re grinning all satisfied at Hyejin, he says, “Of course he likes her. Pfft. That was never the question.”

Coal. He’s getting coal and it won’t even be gift wrapped.

At your shocked expression, he slowly stands up, looking confused as he asks, “Did you...did you not realise?”

Near-hysterical, you reply, turning to face him fully, “No? How was I supposed to realise?”

Jungkook’s looking at you like you’ve grown a third head, like you’re the one who’s just said something completely bizarre, which is absolutely untrue.

“Wait, what did you think her crisis was about?” Hyejin asks, infuriatingly calm at this revelation and completely ignoring the fact that your roommate is spouting enough shit to fill a truck.

“Feelings? In general? I thought she knew about Jimin liking her. I thought you knew about Jimin liking you!”

You throw your arms up in a gesture of annoyance as you hiss, half-frustrated and half-panicking, “How was I supposed to know? Nobody tells me these things!”

“Dude, he's been flirting with you for weeks.”

“No, he has not. You’re wrong. Hyejin, tell him he’s wrong.”

But to your great betrayal, Hyejin doesn’t immediately contest the sheer stupidity of the statement. She gets that look you’re constantly wary of. A ‘hmm, you might have a point there,’ look.

“Actually,” she slowly begins. “Now I think about it, he might be right.”

You groan in frustration as Jungkook continues in the same voice, like he’s still bewildered that you haven’t picked up on any flirty, non-existent signs.

“He gave you his jacket and let you keep it for, like, a week? And he wouldn’t stop looking at you during the photoshoot? And he agreed to dance with you immediately, no questions asked. And don’t even get me started on that evening with the super intense eye contact outside Yoongi's studio. And he agreed to come pick you up in the rain at ass o' clock even when his shop was opening in a week and he was neck deep in work with no complaint, from what I heard. What part of this isn’t registering as ‘I want to hold your hand non-platonically' to you?”

You open and close your mouth, speechless. More out of formality, to put up a fight because weary fear and wary hope makes one do and say stupid things, you softly mutter, “He was just being nice,” but you’ll be the first to admit that there’s more than a tinge of doubt in your voice now.

Hyejin sighs, looking at you kindly as she says, all too knowingly, “I know you’re going to overthink this. But it really, really isn’t a big deal.”

“But what do I do?” you ask, desperation thinly veiled in your voice.

“Nothing, if that’s what you want. Or you could ask him out. Or you could wait for him to ask you out.”

Jungkook nods insistently next to her. “It’s all good, dude.”

Stellar contributor, that one.

Taking a deep breath in and letting it out with a whoosh, you look back at their expectant faces, trepidation in your eyes.

“First, I’d like a glass of champagne.”

The light that enters through the crack in your curtains annoys you, but not enough to make you get up and block it. Your phone is on silent, and for once, you don’t feel the constant, compulsive need to check it.

You don’t feel the need to do anything, really. Here, starfished on your bed, staring blank at the white ceiling is a good place to be. Optimum zoning out position. You’ve gotten so tuned to the sound of the clock on the wall, that you’re certain your heart is now beating in the same rhythm, and the numbness in your foot has been there for so long, you don’t remember who you were before it.

After the...talk in the storeroom yesterday, you wish you could say that your first order of business (after some liquid courage) was to walk right up to Jimin and give it to him straight, but nothing could be farther from the truth.

You had avoided him like the plague, preferring to catch up with Yoongi and hide out in the dressing room armed with clothes you can only afford in your dreams. To top it all, you also had to deal with all this new information and suddenly, you were noticing a lot of interesting things. You’d catch Jimin looking at you at odd moments, and he’d look away after shooting you a small smile that you physically couldn’t not return. He had come over all the way from the other end of the shop to ask you if you wanted another glass of champagne (you had declined), and there were fingers brushing against your shoulder, winks thrown across the room whenever eye contact was made and all of a sudden, you were consumed by this overwhelming feeling of stupidity, all of Jungkook’s points becoming more and more valid with every passing moment.

So, you did what any sane person would do. After congratulating them, and having an incredibly brief conversation with him about the final plan for the competition, you had left (after counting and comparing the amount of time he spent on his hugs with different people, and coming to the conclusion that you got two seconds extra).

You had refused to speak to Jungkook about anything even in the vicinity of the ballpark of whatever you were thinking about on the cab ride back, shovelled in an early dinner, gone straight up to your room and begun to create a definitive flowchart about possible outcomes.

It had been of no help whatsoever, and had only led to you thinking even more until you finally gave up on the project, paper landing on your bed with a comically sad finality, probably still there, lying crumpled under all the pillows.

You had flopped onto your bed, stared at the ceiling until your eyes could stay open no longer, only to wake up to your alarm at 7 AM with the same train of thought in your head continuing where it had left off.

Cut to now, two hours later. You can see your packed bag near the closed door. Jungkook’s knocked twice already, asking if you want breakfast before your big show and you’ve declined both times. You’re already showered and dressed, and both activities were a sort of background noise to the insofar ceaseless thinking in your head.

But now, you’re all thought out. You’re tired godammit, and you know that you’ve spiralled enough for a thousand exam seasons for there to still be some hope that rationality will prevail and a conclusion based on facts can be hit upon. No, you’re done thinking.

It’s time to listen to Kim Jennie, 28, Head of Product Development. No time for being scared. And maybe some advice that’s less daunting and closer to the kind of thing you can vibe without wanting to puke at the thought of, Hyejin’s ‘It isn’t such a big deal.’

Despite the sudden clarity and at least half-way confidence in your constitution, your body’s still playing catch up, and your movements are sluggish as you sit up, coming face to face with your reflection in the mirror. There’s that trepidation that you’re all too aware of in your eyes, but you brush it aside. You’ve got the power of your boss and your friend on your side. And once you tell Jungkook your plan, the moment you figure it out yourself, you’ll have anime too.

You give your reflection one final, determined nod before standing up and collecting your phone and bag. You decide to hold off on opening the curtains just yet. No need to get ahead of yourself. Maybe when you get back. After your fate’s been decided.

Your notifications range from well wishes (Yoongi: Don’t trip like you did during that performance in fifth grade.) to a compilation of cat videos (Tae: to make up for the lack over the last few weeks :D), but the message that your eyes are drawn to is from the man himself.

Jimin (Maybe Interact Sometimes): I’m excited! Let’s kill it!

Unbidden, a smile grows on your face, small at first before slowly growing until you’re beaming at your phone. The familiar pre-performance anticipation settles deep in your bones, and combined with your recently acquired confidence and the butterflies that have taken up permanent residence in your stomach over the last month or so, it’s a deadly mix.

Feeling heady, you reply with some exclamation points and lock your phone, toning down the grin on your face so your roommate doesn’t think you’ve finally crossed the bend before pushing the door open.

Jungkook’s in the kitchen, sitting over a bowl of cereal, eyes skimming through the newspaper that he’s holding up with one hand. It’s a common enough occurrence, one you see nearly every morning, but it feels different today. You’ve got the enterprise of mission in you.

He notices you entering and opens his mouth to say something, but stops short. You catch sight of your reflection in the glass window behind him, and see that the grin, if not entirely blinding, is still a drastic change from your usual morning grumpiness that Jungkook has the pleasure of poking at every day.

Tentatively, he asks, rather than says, “Good morning?”

Dropping your bag, you make your way to the fridge to get some milk to fix up your own cereal as you reply, cheeriness coming through in your voice even as you try to keep it neutral, “Morning!”

You can feel his quizzical gaze on your back, and he makes no pretense of hiding it when you sit down opposite him, bowl set in front of you.

“Are you done with the newspaper?” you ask, pretending to not notice his staring, absently tapping your spoon against the side of the table as you swallow a mouthful.

He looks confused as he replies, “Am I done with – uh, yeah, here.”

You accept it with a smile and a ‘Thank you!’ before spreading it out on the table in front of you, bowl in one hand, spoon in the other as you hunch over to read.

It only takes a few seconds for Jungkook to break the silence. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, peachy. Excited about the competition!”

You look up at the fag end of your sentence, just in time to catch his deeply mistrusting gaze.

“Nervous?” he asks, like a detective looking for a lead.

You direct your gaze back to the editorial page as you shake your head and respond simply, “Nope.”

That’s a blatant lie, and you’re sure that as soon as ten minutes from now, you’re going to start realising the gravity of the situation (prize money is a powerful incentive), but that bridge hasn’t even been built yet, leave alone reached.

There’s silence for a while, you reading the paper while eating your cereal and Jungkook looking at you shrewdly, like he’s trying to read your mind and figure out how you’ve made a complete 180 from yesterday.

When you deem the time right, you say matter-of-factly, “Might ask Jimin out today.”

It’s quite unfortunate that you aren’t looking up when you utter those words. Jungkook’s in the middle of a sip of coffee, and it takes a minute for him to stop choking and sputtering.

“You what?”

“Might ask Jimin out today,” you repeat with a shrug, folding the paper after finishing the comics section and directing your gaze at his startled face.

He narrows his eyes, scepticism in his voice as he asks, “What do you mean you might ask Jimin out today?”

“For somebody who’s a journalist and about to be a published author, you’re having an awfully hard time comprehending words, aren’t you?”

He groans in annoyance as you smile pleasantly, enjoying the overall effect of this conversation.

Gathering himself, he slowly enquires, “So you just woke up today morning and decided that you’re going to do this?”

“Yep,” you reply, popping the p.

He scrutinises you carefully, looking for traces of bullshit. Finding none, he slowly begins to smile. And then you’re smiling. And then he’s smiling wider, and now you’re both grinning at each other like a pair of fools. If anybody were to walk into the kitchen now, they’d take one look before turning around and marching right back out.

Jungkook lets out a small giggle, partly in residual disbelief and partly in excitement, and your nervousness and anticipation manifests in the same way.

“When are you going to do it?” he asks, eyes twinkling as he stifles his laughter.

“No idea,” you reply, standing up with your bowl and making your way to the sink with him in tow.

“You mean you haven’t thought this to death and made a timeline down to the millisecond about how your plan’s going to unfold? I’m shocked.”

There’s no bite in his words, though, and you merely bump him on the side as you wash your bowl, him drying his next to you. “I’m tired of thinking. Time to get shit done.”

A pause as Jungkook whoops in support, and then you’re asking, “Is this a terrible idea? Should I not do this today? What if I screw up while dancing?”

You don’t know where the sudden uncertainty is coming from. Maybe everything’s finally catching up to you, but abruptly, you need some reassurance that you aren’t in over your head, that you aren’t going to fuck up.

“None of that now,” Jungkook says bossily, drying his hands and placing his palms on your shoulders, turning you so you’re facing him. “You’ve got a cash prize to win and a crush to ask out. No time for being scared and mopey. You know why? ‘Cause you’re a lean, mean singing machine.”

“I’m not lean.”

“Mean singing machine.”

“I’m actually quite nice, I think.”

“Singing machine.”

“This is a dance competition.”

He huffs in annoyance, but there’s a glint of relief in his eyes at your return to admittedly uncharacteristic optimism.

“Phineas and Ferb quotes shouldn’t be adapted,” he staunchly says, nose teasingly up in the air as he lets you go so you can pick up your bag.

“Not by you, they shouldn’t.”

“Okay, why don’t you book the cab, yeah?” he says, marching your giggling frame out the door.

The large board next to the main, high school auditorium entrance reads ‘PARTICIPANTS HERE' followed by a red arrow pointing to a small door that presumably leads to the green room.

You and Jungkook stop a few paces away, moving closer to the wall so you aren’t blocking the hallway that’s teeming with audience members trying to enter. Some of them take in your outfit and wish you luck, to which you reply with a grateful nod.

The confidence you were feeling earlier has been replaced by the shaky excitement that accompanies a performance. You wonder what you were thinking, deciding to launch your amoratic venture on the same day as the competition. Like you don’t have enough to be nervous about. But a plan is a plan, and you’re sure you’ll chicken out and/or rip all your hair out in frustration if you go another day without dealing with it.

But prize money first. Boys after.

“Y/N.”

“Yes,” you reply, trying to mimic Jungkook’s firm voice, even as your eyes take in the large crowd of people who are going to be watching.

“Let's get this bread,” he says.

You nod, taking strength in the knowledge that Mr. Kibum is judging, that you’re dancing with your childhood best friend, that Hyejin’s going to be in the green room as well, that Jungkook, Yoongi and Tae are all going to be cheering you on from the crowd, that this is dance.

The wink he offers you leaves no doubt of the fact that he means other breads as well and not just the show, but you ignore it. Focus is key.

“Break a leg!” he cheers, ironically enough seeing as how his ankle is still in a cast, despite the fact that he can walk now with a barely noticeable limp.

You shakily smile in response before waving and ducking into the room you’re supposed to go into.

Immediately, the loud noise and chatter from the corridor becomes muffled as you’re wrapped in a quiet air of anticipation and nerves that hangs heavy. A few people look up when you enter, the ones you know offer you a weak smile that you return. In the corner of the room, you spot Hyejin and Jimin doing their stretches, much like majority of the other participants strewn around.

Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve effectively temporarily suppressed your feelings in favour of focusing on the competition, or maybe that you’ve finally accepted them and decided to do something about them, but all you feel is a sort of calm glow when you see him. Your stomach does give a weak, little flop, but you don’t experience that urge to escape as a first instinct, like you’ve become so accustomed to recently.

You scuttle over, taking care not to hit anybody with the swinging bag dangling from your side.

“Hey,” you mumble, easily accepting Jimin’s hug as he smiles at you and grinning at a mid-split Hyejin.

You begin jogging in place to warm up to stretch as Taemin enters the room, fedora full of chits in his hand.

“It’s time to decide the order of performing! Everybody gather around.”

Hyejin smoothly gets up with her freakish core strength as you and Jimin look at each other. There’s a dash of glitter on his eyelashes, subtly sparkling in the light, and you can swear, at that moment, that he’s easily the most beautiful person in this room. Hell, in this building.

“You wanna pick?” he asks, quirking his head to the side.

Ordinarily, you’d decline. But with the clouds you’re walking on, maybe you should try your luck.

“Sure,” you reply, making your way to the slowly gathering crowd that’s surrounding a hassled looking Taemin.

You huff in preparation before sticking you forearm into the hat blindly and snatching the first chit your fingers close around. Somebody’s nails scratch you, but you’re too distracted, fighting your way out of the group of people, eager to reach Jimin on the outskirts so you can open the tightly clutched paper in your hand and see your fate.

“Ready?” you ask, once you’re standing in front of him.

He nods eagerly. There’s a flush on his cheeks, a light in his eyes you’ve never seen before, and the memory of watching him dance in that practice room for the first time all those weeks ago, with all that love and passion and elegant control enters your head unbidden. You feel a little sickened by the amount your heart warms when you think of Jimin getting this opportunity to do what he loves on stage.

You slowly open the paper, only for your heart to veritably pause for a second when you read what’s written.

No fucking way.

You look up, unable to keep the apologetic grimace from your face as you see him half-amused, half-disbelieving.

From the other end of the room, Taemin calls out “Team number 1!”

You and Jimin look at each other briefly before making your way towards him. Around you, you can hear small whoops. You think the muted laughter is from Hyejin.

“Pendrive?” he asks all business-like, hand stuck out, palm up, giving no indication that he knows the two of you, that he sees you every Saturday, that he was going to be Jimin’s partner first.

But the small ‘Good luck,’ and smile he gives as you’re both making to go away after handing over your music more than makes up for it.

Jimin leads the way to the corner of the room as the other teams go up in order and give their tracks. There’s silence for a second as you survey each other, trying to figure out just how surreal of a possibility this is.

You break it by mumbling, “Oops.”

All it takes is that stellar wit and ill-placed asinine humour for the tension in his shoulders to drop just a tad and his lips to quirk up, as he nods and says, amused, “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

“We were going to go up anyway,” you reason, trying to make light of the universe screwing you over.

Agreeing, he replies, “Yeah, and now we can watch the other performers without being too distracted.”

You nod, humming, taking courage in these sad attempts at positivity.

You’re running through the choreography in your head, when you notice Jimin moving next to you, turning to face your body from his previous arms out, wrists rotating position.

“Hey,” he starts softly to get your attention, like you aren’t hyper aware of his presence and that the plan to act on your...romantic feelings is still very much present, even if it isn’t at the forefront of your brain.

You hum in reply, signalling him to continue.

“Regardless of what happens, I’m really glad I got to do this with you.”

You don’t know why you’re caught off guard, but you hide it best as you can when you reply with a smile, the most genuine one you have, “Same here.”

If anybody were to look at you, they’d see that :D emoticon that Tae's so fond of.

You think he’s going to stop there, but even as he turns back and continues stretching, feet shoulder width apart and hands on his hips, he says, “It was a lot of fun and I like dancing with you.”

You feel a warm glow at the comment, a soft shiver running down your spine as you take in the slightly reddish hue of the side of his neck and everything it indicates.

He likes likes you.

You’re not sure what possesses you to say it then, what stupid prank-pulling higher power decides that now would be a good time to do this, less than ten minutes before dancing together so you can’t even escape if things go sideways, but the next thing you know, the words are spilling out from your mouth of their own accord, tumbling over one other in a mad rush of adrenaline and bashfulness and nerves.

“Doyouwannagooutwithmesometime?”

You’re as startled as he is, maybe even more at this betrayal by your own lips, and you wish you could take it back the moment you say it, because now is not the time.

But thankfully, it doesn’t seem like he understood your stupid babble, and at the confused tilt of his head and his soft ‘Excuse me?’, you just shake your head and slowly say, avoiding his eyes, stuttering as your brain works in overtime, “I just said that...we both had a good time. Doing this, I mean. The, er – dancing.”

He accepts the explanation easily, bless his soul, but it’s still a relief when Taemin calls out that the competition is about to start and the two of you are up.

With one last nod and smile, as you force your head and heart to refocus, and manage to do so admirably well considering how close to fucking up you were, you and Jimin exit the room from the side door that leads to the auditorium, softly padding onto the dark stage behind the closed curtains and getting into the start position.

You meet his gaze as they announce your names, and the fabric of his t-shirt feels comfortably warm against your palm as they slowly open the curtains, and hundreds of eyes land on you.

The surrounding lights are bright and the attention nearly deafening, but nothing is quite as blinding and arresting as the look in his eyes as they bore into yours. The subtle pressure of his arm around your waist feels thrillingly familiar, but as you’re both waiting for the cheers to die down and the track to start, he goes off script.

Bending his head slightly, he begins to whisper, so subtly that nobody in the audience can notice unless they’re focusing very intently on his lips. Which...you wouldn’t blame them.

“You have horrible timing, but yes.”

And just like that, before you can even think about pulling away to look at him in shock, the demand for a less cryptic sentence, despite there being absolutely no doubt as to what he’s referring to, hot on your lips accompanied by the tingling certainty you feel when you look at his twinkling eyes that are partly mischievous but more noticeably excited, performance adrenaline taking strong hold, the music begins. With a small squeeze on your waist, he reverts to serious dancer mode from his previous Little Shit setting, taking a deep breath and twirling you away with a wink as you let the relief and joy and excitement flow through your body as you begin the routine.

“What’s this?”

“What’s wha – oh, fuck.”

You practically vault across the bed to get to the other side of your room so you can wrench the paper out of Jimin’s grip. He lets it go easily enough, a little startled at your sudden vehemence but amused nonetheless.

As you furiously rip it apart, not meeting his eyes, he teasingly says, “I’m pretty sure I read my name. Have you been making lists about me?”

“I have not,” you reply hotly, dropping the pieces of paper into your dustbin and gathering yourself so you can face him defiantly.

“It was a...to-do list.”

His eyebrow arches, eyes twinkling as he remarks, “At least take me out first.”

You huff, cheeks burning. “Not like that.”

He takes his shoes off, grin firm on his face as he sits cross-legged on the bed, facing your still shut laptop at the foot. “Well, you’ve got me in your room now, so I’ll let you have your way with me.”

You roll your eyes as you pick up the pizza box and place it on the centre of the bed, getting comfortable next to it.

“Second place isn’t so bad,” Jimin says thoughtfully a few minutes later, as you’re both watching the video buffer as you chew on dinner.

Nodding, feeling a warm glow at the current state of affairs and probably the most calm you’ve been in the last three weeks, not to mention an immeasurable sense of relief at not having to overthink yourself to sleep, you reply, unable to keep the shy smile off of your face, “Yeah, this is nice.”

Not that you've spoken about what this is. After the show, there had been a celebratory hug, which may have been just a tad tighter and a smidge longer than previous hugs, before the two of you were whisked away by the organisers for photos and caught up in a flurry of congratulations. As you had both stood at the back of the auditorium, blending into the shadows like the other participants that came to join you after their shows, watching the dancers on stage, there had been a kind of tension that comes with unresolved conversation. But for once, you were perfectly content just existing. There’s only so much emotional upheaval that you can manage in a day.

There had been brushing hands and awkward eye contact that was diffused by timid giggling and grins, but not much talking. Turns out, you’re both wimps.

And after you two had received second place and, along with Jungkook and Tae, eaten lunch at a nearby restaurant, right before everybody had parted ways, you had given yourself a pep talk, practiced in front of the bathroom mirror around ten times, and then gently tugged Jimin to the side and said, voice carefully controlled and tone slightly less rushed than the last time you had done this, “Hey, do you wanna come over for pizza tonight? And maybe a movie, or something?”

The smile accompanying the ‘Sure, that sounds great!’ you received was blinding, and a little relieved. Jungkook’s reaction when you told him on the way back, after letting him stew in silence for a bit, just for the fun of it, had been offensively surprised, like he hadn’t believed you’d go through with it.

(“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I had utmost faith in your plan.”

“Liar.”)

And now Jimin’s in your room (Jungkook’s probably right outside, ear pressed to the door), food in hand, The Office playing on the laptop screen (you had both agreed that a movie would require an unavailable amount of attention after such a long day), his knee comfortably resting against yours like a constant reminder that he’s there, as if you can forget.

And it’s easy.

Like an upgraded version of the old days, that comes with blushing and giggling and a nosy roommate who's given up trying to be subtle.

379 notes · View notes

tobesolonely · 4 years

Text

one weekend away

summary: y/n goes away on a weekend trip with her friends and finds it hard to enjoy herself when she’s away from her family part of my dad!harry universe!

warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking! other than that, just cute family stuff :)

word count: ~1.8k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

“Remember to test Olly’s milk on your wrist before giving it to him. Oh, and Ally has practice tomorrow at 9 am, but you know her coach likes it when they arrive a little bit earlier than that, maybe 8:45? And please make sure you swaddle Olly when it’s time for bed, that’s probably the fastest way to get him to fall asleep—”

“Y/N, I’ve got it. Yeh actin’ like ’ve never stayed home alone with my babies before,” he groans in exasperation, guiding you toward the front door, your suitcase in tow. “Go. Been tellin’ me how excited you were for this trip for ages. Yeh do so much for the kids and I, think it’ll be nice for ya to take a lil’ time off. Besides, this is a non-refundable Mother’s Day gift.” You know he’s just joking about that, but you realize that it would be a waste if you decided not to go.

“I’m just gonna miss my babies,” you confess, sighing as you adjust your purse strap on your shoulder. “I’ve never been away from them for more than a night before, you know that.” Harry nods understandingly, opening the door as he hears the driver he called for you honk their horn, signifying their arrival.

“Your friends will miss yeh if you’re not there. Go and have a good time fo’ me, love. You deserve it,” he places a kiss to the top of your head and then calls out for your daughter. “Ally! Come say goodbye to your Mumma, she’s leaving now!” You hear your daughter’s little footsteps flying down the stairs, and she reappears a moment later, running to you and giving you a tight squeeze.

“‘M gonna miss you, Mumma! Me and Daddy will take good care of Olly,” she says, her tiny voice muffled because her face was smashed against your midsection.

“Gonna be a good girl for Daddy? Promise to help out with your brother?” You ask, gently pulling her away from your body and giving her one of the sternest looks you could muster up at the moment. She nods vigorously, turning to give her dad a look.

“Yes, Mumma, I promise I’ll be good for Daddy.” You grin, satisfied with her answer.

“I guess I’ll have to bring you back a little treat then, won’t I?” She jumps from foot to foot excitedly, flashing you a big, dimpled grin. Ally promises you once again that she’ll be helpful and behave, even more excited by the promise of a treat upon your return. Harry goes to pick up your son, who was having tummy time on his play mat.

“Tell your Mumma bye-bye, Olly,” Harry coos at your son, adjusting him in his arms. Your son babbles, giving you a toothless, happy smile. You rapidly blink back tears, feeling yourself starting to grow a bit emotional. Harry notices and jokingly rolls his eyes, handing you your son to give him a proper goodbye. You place a kiss to the top of his soft head, a stray tear landing on him.

“Come on, love, don’t cry,” Harry tells you quietly, quickly wiping away your tears. “You’re only gonna be gone for one weekend, darling. We’ll all be here in one piece when you get back.” He jokes, taking Oliver from your arms and grabbing your suitcase again with his free hand. You follow reluctantly behind him, figuring you’ve already kept the driver waiting long enough.

“You’re right,” you admit, giving the driver a polite smile when he opens the backseat door for you. “Please don’t forget what I told you about Olly’s milk, Harry.” He shakes his head, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet to tip his driver. Your son is tugging at his curls, but he doesn’t seem to notice, handing the driver a crisp bill.

“Got it, love. Yeh better get goin’ before your friends think you’re not comin’ anymore, yeah?” He leans into the car and places a kiss on your lips, pulling back when Olly gives a particularly hard tug at his hair.

“Oi! Your son’s a menace,” he winces, rubbing at his head. You sniffle and laugh, giving your baby a loving look. Ally is sitting in the doorway, waiting patiently for her dad and brother to come back inside the house.

“Call me if you need anything, please? You know it’ll be nothing for me to come home.” You remind him, readjusting your purse in your lap. Harry nods, not wanting to tell you that he wasn’t planning on calling you at all so as not to bother you, shutting the car door. He steps back, and you see him mouth to your son, “Wave bye to Mumma!” and then you’re off, on your way to spend a much needed weekend away from your little family for the first time ever.

⋆⋆⋆

“Y/N, I swear we’re gonna take your phone and hide it if you keep checking it!” Your best friend threatens. “Har is fine with the kids, haven’t seen you set that thing down since we’ve gotten here.” She gestures toward your phone in your hand, and you sigh, setting it face down on the table.

You were at a winery with a couple of your closest girlfriends, out to dinner while sipping on the smoothest wine you’ve ever had in your life. You knew you needed this trip as you hadn’t seen them in ages, and you desperately wanted some time to let loose with your closest friends. However, the more intoxicated you became, the more you missed your children and husband.

“Just miss them,” you say quietly, tapping the back of your phone. Your waiter comes and sets a charcuterie board in the center of the table, quickly refilling your wine glasses before leaving you be. “It’s hard bein’ away from them. I don’t know how you both do it.” Both of your friends had children of their own, and they seemed to be okay spending an entire weekend away from them. Meanwhile, your babies were the only thing you could think about.

“How about we enjoy our food and wine, and when we get back to the lodge, you give them a quick call. That sound good, Y/N?” Your friend suggests seeing how upset you were away from your kids. Your mood immediately changes at the idea of calling and checking in on your family. You put your phone away and give your girls your undivided attention, starting to enjoy yourself even more once your small buzz kicks in.

⋆⋆⋆

“I’m gonna call Harry, you two go inside without me,” you tell your girlfriends, digging your phone out of the bottom of your purse with a bit of difficulty due to the alcohol coursing through your veins. “I’ll be there in a bit.” You dial your husband’s number quickly and bite your lip while waiting for him to pick up the phone. After the fourth ring, he answers.

“Hello?” Harry’s deep voice rumbles through your phone. “Everything goin’ okay, lovie? Wait, hold on a sec…” he trails off, moving the phone away from his mouth. “Hey, Ally, what did I tell yeh? I said you gotta eat the veggies Daddy made for yeh before it’s time for ice cream. Your whining isn’t gonna change my mind, bub.” You giggle at how strict your husband could get when it came to your daughter eating all of her vegetables.

“Hi, H. I miss you guys,” your voice slurs slightly, but you don’t even try to correct yourself. “Miss my babies sooo much. What are you all getting into?” Harry chuckles, tsking softly.

“Drunk now, are you, pet? Are yeh ‘avin a good time? We miss ya too,” Olly babbles in the background, and you hear Harry telling him to give him a second to make sure his milk isn’t too hot. You smile at the fact that he remembered your instructions from earlier.

“It’s really nice here. Thanks for gettin’ this all set up. You’re the best,” you hiccup, and Harry laughs on the other end. “The wine here is s’good, and the lodge is gorgeous. We should come back here one day.”

“Sure you’d be able to handle leaving the kids with a babysitter?” He teases. “Gonna put the phone on speaker so I can feed Olly, so please watch what yeh say.” Harry knows how you completely lose the ability to filter yourself when you drink. He doesn’t want your children to hear anything too vulgar.

“I’m not that drunk, Harry,” you protest, smiling to yourself. “I won’t keep you long. Jus’ miss you all s’much.” Harry hums as you hear your daughter asking for the third time since being on the phone with him if she could “pretty, pretty please” be excused from the dinner table. He asks her again if she’s done eating her vegetables, causing your daughter to mumble something incoherent.

“She’s not very happy with what’s for dinner tonight,” he tells you. “Been complaining ever since I told her this afternoon what we’d be havin’. Don’t know why she dislikes green beans so much.”

You laugh, nestling your phone in between your shoulder and ear. “Yeah, she hates ‘em. I personally don’t even try to get her to eat those anymore.” Harry scoffs, and you look toward the lodge, a sudden longing to be inside with your girlfriends overwhelming you. “I think I’m gonna get goin’, H. The girls are waiting on me inside.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment, but when he speaks, you can hear that he’s definitely grinning. “When are ya gonna admit that you’re havin’ a good time, ’m perfectly capable of taking care of our babies, and I really know how to pick a Mother’s Day gift, hmm?”

“Don’t get too cocky now. You wouldn’t be bragging like this if you were alone with them for months on end like I am when you go on tour, I guarantee it,” you quip, turning to walk up the steps of your lodge. “Give the kids kisses for me, please? I miss you all so much.”

“I will, Y/N. Now, go have a drink for me, and I don’t wanna hear from you again until you’re back home, yeah? Enjoy yourself, poppet. I promise the house won’t be in flames when yeh get back, okay?” You say your goodbyes, reminding Ally once again to be kind to her father and help him out as much as she can before hanging up, going back inside to join your friends. As a mother, there was always a part of you that was going to find it challenging to be away from your children, and you didn’t think it would ever get easier. For tonight though, Harry’s words rang in your ear, and you did have a drink for him. Or two.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #dad!harry #harry styles fanfiction #one weekend away #thanks for reading!

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nocturna-starr · 3 years

Text

The Picture

Prompter: @gottacatchghosts

Prompt: Danny/Jazz swap AU: Jazz is the half ghost and Danny is the older sibling. Go wild on your take of how this would all play out

Words: 1811

Notes: Related to THIS fic

“Hey Jazz, can you stand still for a minute? The lighting by you is perfect!”

“Daniel!”

A flash went off. Jazz blinked away the spots. Where had he come from? She would have sworn that it had only been her in the kitchen a few seconds ago. How had he come in so fast, or alternatively, how long had Daniel been watching her? Sometimes Jazz wondered who really was the ghost in their family, him or her?

“That was perfect!” Daniel cheered, “Now I’ll need a couple more photos and then you can go.”

“I thought you wanted to be a painter, Daniel?” Jazz frowned, “Since when did you care about photography?”

“Since I was the first one in all of Amity Park to catch a photo of the ghost girl in action! I discovered that I really do have a natural talent for it.” Daniel gloated as he changed the filters on his camera. Jazz smiled. It had been a long time since she had seen this side of her brother.

“Okaaayyy” She tried to sound like she was doing him a favour. If he knew that she was actually happy for him, then Daniel would never let it go.

“I knew you would agree!” Daniel grinned, “Now I have a bunch a filters that I need to try out! How busy is your day today?”

“Well I was planning to meet spike at the mall…”

“Perfect! I swear these photos are going to make you a star!” Daniel smirked, “Or at least get your name in the history books when these pictures come through.”

xXx

“I’m so sorry I’m late Spike! Daniel is on another stupid project kick.” Jazz huffed as she sat down in the mall’s cafeteria. Her friend looked up from the phone game he was playing. She wondered how long he had been waiting for her. Spike rarely ever tried out mobile games unless he was absolutely bored.

“And he says that he is nothing like his parents. Dude really is clueless to his own tendencies, isn’t he?” Spike laughed, “Maybe it’s a Fenton trait?”

“What do you mean by that?” Jazz asked.

“You still haven’t noticed my- You know what? I’ll let you figure it out.” Spike took a huge gulp from his soda.

“Come on Spike! That’s not fair!” Jazz whined. How could she even begin to guess something if she didn’t have a hint? She wasn’t a genius like her parents or her brother. She couldn’t help it she accidentally overlooked something that she didn’t even know was supposed to be there!

“Nothing is fair in love and war.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jazz wondered. Spike only smirked. He was about to explain (or maybe torment Jazz some more) when he was interrupted by one of Daniel’s friends.

“Hey Jazz! Have you seen Danny?” asked her brother’s not-so-secret admirer, Sam Manson. Jazz sighed. Judging by the new camera hanging from her neck, Sam seemed to be encouraging Daniel’s new endeavor. That meant he would be taking pictures for the next month or so. It was something that Jazz was not looking forward to.

“He’s in the house taking photos of plants. Or he decided he wanted to go on another jungle adventure and went into the ghost zone.” Jazz rolled her eyes. She muttered under her breath, “Then I’ll have to save him again this week…”

“Do you think he’s dumb enough to do that again?” Spike laughed, “Last time he got chased half-way across the zone by Klemper!”

“But he got some awesome pictures!” Sam grinned. She practically skipped away. Jazz giggled at her enthusiasm. She could see what Daniel liked about Sam. Maybe by this summer they would finally get together. Then they wouldn’t have another Ember situation.

“Your brother is going to get eaten by a ghost one day and all his friends are going to care about is that he got a good picture.” Spike snickered, “Man, I feel bad for him.”

Jazz joined into his laughter, “Yeah, but don’t feel too bad for him. You should have seen him when Tucker got attacked by Technus. He managed to get the two of them to stand still long enough for him to take a sketch.”

“And he didn’t snap a photo why?”

“As much as he hates to admit it, Daniel is just like our parents! He wanted to prove a point or something.”

Spike nodded in agreement, “Wanna get some ice cream?”

“You bet I do!”

xXx

The two best friends sauntered in the park, enjoying the beautiful weather and the lack of ghost attacks. It was peaceful times like these that Jazz liked the most. Times where she could just be a regular fifteen-year-old kid.

Of course, peace doesn’t last long in Amity Park.

“Wanna take a selfie?” Spike asked, “It’s been a while since our last!”

Jazz smiled, trying not to feel too guilty. Since becoming Jazz Phantom, she had veered away from cameras. In all of her research, she had discovered that photos tended to… change while in the presence of other ghosts. Yet the photos Daniel had taken of her, always seemed to end well. Maybe she was just being too paranoid?

“Say cheese!” Spike said, sounding way too bright to be considered a goth.

“Cheese!”

Spike took the picture, then went to see the results, “Uh… Jazz?”

He handed over the picture to her trembling. Nervous, Jazz took a look and paled.

Spike looked happier than he has in a long time. She on the other hand… If you showed the picture to anyone else, they would probably think that Spike had gotten a picture with Jazz Phantom herself! Jazz’s eyes were the bright red of her ghost form. Her hair was blue as the ocean. Her clothes looked faded, though if Jazz squinted, she could make out her logo.

All in all, this was a disaster.

“We have to get those photos from Daniel!” Jazz squeaked. She dived into a bush, transforming into her other half. Without a second thought she took to the skies, heading towards her home.

“Guess my plans have been cancelled,” Spike muttered, “Better tell mom not to cancel that trip to my therapist.”

xXx

“Daniel?” Jazz called while entering the house, “Are you here?”

Fentonworks was too quiet… Like her entire family was ready to attack her. She shivered, were they watching her? Jazz was afraid to even consider this. Maybe… maybe… Maybe her parents were out, and Daniel was with his friends?

“I’m up here,” Daniel called from up the stairs.

That didn’t feel like a trap at all.

With the very little courage she had left, Jazz carefully made her way up the stairs. Her yes darted around, waiting to catch the slightest movement. She prayed that her life was not about to fall apart. How could she have been so trusting? Daniel was her brother, but he had also been raised by ghost hunters. What if he warned her that she would have to leave? What if the government was here to take her away? These seconds could be the last of the life she had once known.

“Hey Jazz! The filters worked like a charm!” Daniel called from the top of the stairs. The ghostly heroine nearly fell down the stairs in surprise.

“Danny?!”

“Oh sorry. Totally didn’t mean to scare you little sis! Sam, Tucker and I have finally come up with a filter that can properly take pictures of anyone. No more red eyes, or blurry pictures! And it’s not going to malfunction around you like all of our other inventions!” Daniel was talking at a mile a minute.

Jazz sighed in relief. He hadn’t mentioned how her picture had looked. Did it mean that her brother had discovered a way to properly photograph half ghosts? She would need to steal a dozen of these camera filters which, knowing her brother, he would have around.

Jazz practically skipped down the stairs, “I was just seeing where everyone was! I’m going to go find Spike again! Tell mom and dad that I’ll be home for dinner!”

“Okay? But don’t you want to hear more?” Daniel asked.

She answered his question by racing out of the door. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her brother’s efforts. But Daniel could be just like Jack Fenton when explaining how something worked. She supposed she could be the same way when talking about psychology.

xXx

Daniel shook his head and sighed as his sister slammed the door. While he could understand her concerns, it still hurt to be rejected that way. It wasn’t like he could tell her that he knew her secret. She would freak out and try to trick him into thinking he just saw things. Now wasn’t the time for him to get down. He had just invented something revolutionary!

“How did you know that adding ectoranium to the filter would work?” Tucker asked, turning on the hall light, “And why did you have to tell her in the dark?”

“Cause it’s more fun to tell her that way. Who’d think that the ghost girl was afraid of the dark?” Sam answered for him, as she exited his room.

“Honestly, I forgot to turn on the lights.”

His two best friends howled but Daniel frowned. How could he have been so stupid? He’d after to reassure Jazz that everything was okay in a subtle way. Afterall, Jazz had a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions.

“I’m curious too,” Sam began, after she had calmed down a little, “how did you come up with the idea?”

“Ectoranium is the opposite or ectoplasm. I figured that the ectoranium would cancel out the effects that Jazz’s powers had on the camera. Now she can have her picture taken at school or join in family photos without a need for an excuse.” Daniel replied.

“That was very sweet of you Danny.” Sam gushed.

Daniel didn’t reply. Instead he headed back into his room. He put his hand under the mattress and pulled out the photo album he had been working on for the past couple of months. Carefully he placed one of the photos he had taken that day into the album. He flipped the picture over and wrote a note just like he had done to the other pictures.

This is the first photo taken with the new lens. Use the lens to reveal the true door. If the event has not happened, ignore this.

“Dude, the cryptic messages are a little freaky.” Tucker said.

“Call them safeguards, for just in case.” Daniel closed the book and hid it under his mattress again. Once he was done hiding his gift, he turned to his friends and smirked.

“Anyone want to see if we can get a picture of that Box Ghost again?”

“We’re in!”

#phic phight 2021 #jazz phantom #danny fenton #swap au

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jenonctcity · 4 years

Text

My Beginning - Part 1

Differences – Lee Jeno

Part of the Bad Boy Series.

Badboy!Au, Streetfighter!Au

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, talk of drugs, aggression, mention of mental health, mention of blood/violence.

Word Count: 5.9k

(I recommend reading Haechan’s part first to understand this part more clearly.)

Jeno had a rough start to life. He was raised in a poor family with an abusive father and depressed mother. To let off some steam and make some money to support himself, he took up underground street fights at the age of 15. And he was really fucking good at it. Finally his father pushed him too far one night and at the age of 18 Jeno did what he’d wanted to do since before he could even remember, and he beat up his dad until his face was almost unrecognisable. He was sentenced to a year in prison for his crime, but he thought it was worth it and doesn’t regret it. Now fresh out of prison, he’s back in the underground fighting scene and adjusting to life on the outside without having to worry about his father for the first time in his life. He meets someone who mixes up his life once more, and she wants to change him for the better. Does he change for the women he sees in his future or is he too far gone?

“You need some pussy.” Chenle’s words caused Jeno to choke on the beer he was in the middle of swallowing. He winced and gulped the beer down after he’d finished coughing into his hand, giving Chenle a wide-eyed look and holding his hand up in question.

“Chenle…what the fuck?” He gulped down the rest of his beer and set the bottle down on the bar. Chenle sniggered, looking oddly proud of himself for what he’d said to his older friend.

“Well you’ve been a right grumpy bastard the past few months, and it’s starting to ruin my vibe.” Chenle sounded as if he was dead serious as he flagged the bartender down to order more beers.

“Sorry that I fell in love with someone who didn’t love me back Chenle, I didn’t mean to ruin your ‘vibe’.” He deadpanned but mocked Chenle’s voice as he said the word ‘vibe’.

“You’re forgiven.” Chenle’s neck was starting to look very inviting to Jeno. Inviting to wrap his hands around and strangle the cheeky fucker. “So anyway, I did you a favour!” This made Jeno’s eyebrows raise, as he knew Chenle doing someone a favour, usually worked out to be a devastation only for Chenle’s amusement. Jeno put his head in his hands and groaned.

“I swear to god if you have hired a fucking prostitute or some shit Chenle I wi-”

“No!” Chenle furrowed his eyebrows and let out a laugh. “You really think I’d spend that much money on getting a prostitute for you? Pfft, you’re my buddy but you’re not that special Jen.” The one thing Jeno loved but hated at the same time about Chenle was that he had absolutely no filter whatsoever.

“Thanks.” Jeno rolled his eyes and sighed. “So what is this favour?”

“I’ve set you up a blind date.” Chenle grinned at Jeno, clearly proud of what he’d done. Jeno felt his stomach drop, he sighed and shook his head as he looked at Chenle.

“I’m not ready.” He mumbled, looking down at his hands.

“It’s been what? Seven months?” Chenle furrowed his eyebrows, confused at Jeno’s reaction.

“Four months…you have no sense of time at all.” Jeno frowned in shock at his friend’s awareness of time. “Do you not realise that I still have feelings for her? She pretty much lives at the apartment and her and Haechan are all over each other.” He didn’t want to sound soft, so he neglected to tell Chenle that it felt like a knife was being stabbed through his heart every time he saw them hold hands, or their lips briefly touch. He wasn’t stupid, he knew they kept their pda to a minimum around him, and he knows they look at him with pity in their eyes, which isn’t what Jeno wants.

“Get over it my guy.” Chenle shrugs and slaps Jeno on the shoulder. He’s clearly never had his heartbroken, but Jeno can’t really blame him for his ignorance to heart break, he’s still young. “Look, she’s a really nice girl, and she’s beautiful. She’s my friend’s sister and he thinks she needs some company.”

“And she hasn’t got feelings for anyone else?” Jeno couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice as he stared Chenle in the eye.

“Not that I’m aware of. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was secretly in love with me though, I am one hell of a catch.” He winked at Jeno and took a large mouthful of beer, taking took much in and dribbling some of the liquid down his chin.

“Yes…quite the bachelor.”

“I’ll text you the details once I’ve sorted things out with her.”

“I don’t know whether to thank you or not, so I’m going to wait and see how this turns out.” Jeno rolled his eyes and sipped on his own beer.

“So you’ll actually go on the date?!”

“Yes, if it shuts you up about my personal life.”

“Deal!”

---

Jeno felt like he was suffocating as he tugged at the collar of his white button up shirt. It wasn’t often he wore a shirt considered ‘formal’, as he didn’t really go anywhere fancy enough to deem wearing a shirt that fell into the category. But since it was a first date and Chenle told him not to dress like a ‘homeless rat’, he decided to buy a decent shirt to wear with his black skinny jeans. The cool night air was at least doing somewhat of a decent job in calming him down, but the longer he stood beside Chenle as he waited for you to arrive, the more anxious he got. He wasn’t nervous to meet you, he was simply feeling anxious because he did not want to be going on a date, but he knew Chenle wouldn’t shut up about it until he agreed.

“Why doesn’t Jaemin ever have to deal with this shit?” He mumbled to himself, his fingers itching to grab at the packet of cigarettes in his leather jacket. He only smoked when he was feeling stressed, and he knew he’d get stressed, so he came prepared. Even though he mumbled the words, Chenle apparently had super sonic hearing.

“Because Jaemin has severe depression and I’m not willing to fuck with that.” Chenle shrugged. “She’s here!” He smiled widely as you got out of the taxi. You nearly climbed back in though because of how nervous you felt about going on a date. This was your first ever date, and you didn’t know how to feel about Chenle being the person to set it up for you. You also didn’t know what to wear, so you hoped that your little black dress with matching heels would be an okay option. You had straightened your hair and had made a decent effort with your makeup, hoping it would help mask how worried you were feeling. You turned around, looking to see the blond annoyance you knew too well, smiling when you caught sight of him. You felt your stomach fall straight through to the core of the earth when you laid eyes on the tall man next to him. He looked like he could snap you in half if he wanted to, not to mention, he was also the best-looking man you’d seen in a long, long, long time. Your palms started to sweat but you didn’t let your smile falter as you hurried over to them both.

“(Y/N)! Hi, this is Jeno, Jeno this is (Y/N). I’m going to shoot now; the reservations are made under your name Jeno. Bye!” Before either of you could utter a word to him, he had basically sprinted off down the road.

“I hate him so much.” You heard Jeno mutter, causing a soft, nervous laugh to fall from your lips. He turned towards you and gave you a lopsided smile. “Shall we?” He motioned towards the restaurant that you were stood in front of. You nodded and followed him inside, thanking him as he held the door open for you. The host hastily showed you to your seats and you slid into the booth, still holding the soft smile on your face. Jeno shrugged off his jacket and you couldn’t help but look at his arms as the shirt he was wearing moulded to the fabric snuggly. You didn’t really know what to say to him and let out a quick sigh as your eyes scanned the restaurant. It was starting to get painfully awkward, which was a bad sign for you, because you knew how you handled awkward situations. Jeno kept letting his eyes fall on your as he glanced at his menu, his bottom lip tucked between teeth as he mulled over the silence between you. You looked at the menu for a minute before deciding to try and start a conversation with him.

“So, how do you know Chenle?” You asked, letting your eyes meet his. For someone with very strong facial features, his eyes were very soft, the deep brown pools almost sucking you in. like a riptide in the ocean.

“Satan’s child?” This caused you to laugh abruptly, not having expected him to say such a thing. “I don’t actually remember, I’m pretty sure one of my friends just found him and adopted him into our group, then we haven’t been able to get rid of him since.” You smiled and nodded along to his words. “He said you’re his friends sister?”

“Yeah, he spends a lot of time eating my brothers food and giving him tattoos of random things.” Jeno smiled in amusement and turned his attention to the waiter as he came over. You both ordered your food and drinks and then you saw as he let out a small sigh, trying to avoid making eye contact with you. It baffled you as to why he agreed to go on a date with you when he clearly didn’t want to. ‘Maybe he doesn’t think I’m attractive…’ you couldn’t help but think to yourself as you let your mind wonder. You couldn’t stand the horrid silence, so you did what you did best in awkward situations. Talk. You didn’t mean to, but it always happened subconsciously as your battle against the quiet. You found yourself talking about the most random things, asking him questions that you only got brief answers to. You told him all about your life, how you were a student at a nearby university studying something you found boring but essential to the job you wanted. You also told him that you were in the middle of learning how to drive, but it was a slow process because you were busy with university. Until your food came and you suddenly realised just how long you’d been talking for. “I’ve been talking so much, I’m sorry I haven’t given you any chance to speak!” You could feel your cheeks heat up as embarrassment set in. Jeno gave you a gentle smile and sipped at his drink.

“I’m enjoying listening to you, I haven’t got much to tell you about my own life so I’m happy to listen to you about yours.” He sounded genuine, which made you let out a short sigh of relief. He chuckled when he saw you sigh. “You’re very sweet, much different to the people I spend my time with, so I’m enjoying your company. Please don’t think that because I don’t talk much that I’m not interested.” He started to eat his food at the same time you started your own. You smiled, happy that he was interested in what you had to say, but you couldn’t help but wonder why he said he hadn’t got much to tell you about his life. The rest of the date flew by pretty much the same. You would talk about anything you could think of whilst Jeno just nodded along and interjected his thoughts when he saw fit. You had managed to find out a little about his life, that he doesn’t see his parents often, he spends most of his free time working out because he only works part time at his friends uncle’s mechanic shop, and he bleaches his hair because he hates his natural hair colour.

The two of you left the restaurant after he paid the bill, which you had tried to pay half of, but he hadn’t let you. “You can pay for ice cream on our next date.” He’s mumbled with red cheeks as he held the door open for you on your way out.

“Ooooh what’s your favourite ice cream flavour?” You smiled widely, having completely missed that he’d shown interest in a second date with you. He looked down at you and couldn’t help the way his cheeks tugged his own lips into a smile.

“Vanilla.”

“Boring!”

“It’s not! What’s your favourite flavour then?” He shoved his hands in his jacket pocket as he watched you.

“Vanilla.” You giggled as his mouth popped open. He looked scandalised at your words and his eyebrows furrowed.

“You just accused vanilla of being boring!”

“But I never said that I wasn’t boring too.” You shrugged. His face fell and he shook his head as he looked down at you.

“I don’t think that you’re boring…hey can I get your number? So we can arrange our next date.” He looked down at his feet, a slight nervous fire burning in his stomach at the thought of you turning him down. Your whole face lit up and you nodded eagerly, quickly taking his phone from him to put your number in when he held it out to you. “Can I give you a ride home?” You felt your phone buzz and looked down to see an unknown number, the message being a simple ‘Hi it’s Jeno’. You saved his number and smiled up at him.

“If it’s okay? I don’t want you to go out of your way.” You felt your stomach do a little flip when he let out a soft laugh and a shrug.

“It’s cool, come on.” He placed his hand on your lower back and guided you to the car park. He took you over to a sporty black car and opened the door for you, you slipped in the car and thanked him, looking at the sleek interior as you waited for him to get in beside you. You briefly wondered how he could afford a car this nice when he had told you that he was currently not working. “Where do you live?”

“Do you know the apartment buildings near the water tower?” He nodded in response, a gasp leaving his mouth.

“Wait you live there? I live there too, in the red bricked building!”

“No freaking way! I live in the white bricked building!” You both had surprised looks on your faces as you both found out that you live in the apartment buildings opposite each other.

“What are the chances?” He laughed, starting to drive towards the apartment buildings. You didn’t have much more to say, so you stared out of the window into the darkness of the night as the radio hummed a slow song throughout the atmosphere of the car. You mulled over the whole night in your head, unable to get rid the smile that sat contently on your face at the thought of your date. Jeno drummed his fingers gently against the steering wheel as he drove, his eyes darting over to you every now and then to check up on you. He stopped on the side of the road that his apartment building was on, hurrying to get out and rushing around the car to open the door for you. You felt butterflies in your stomach at the small gesture, thanking him as you climbed out of the car. “I’ll walk you to your building.”

“Thanks.” You walked with him across the road and suddenly feel a nervousness in your stomach. “I had fun.” You blurt out, rocking back and forth on your feet as he watched you stood by the door. He had a small smile on his face, and he nodded, mumbling a soft ‘me too’. You cleared your throat and turned to unlocked the door to your apartment building when you felt his hand gently tug on your own, the one that wasn’t busy unlocking the door. Your stomach dropped, thoughts running through your mind at what he might want from you. Did he expect you to have sex on the first date?!

“Hey,” When you turned around, he stepped closer, ducking down and planting a soft kiss to your cheek which felt like it was about to combust in flames from how hot it felt. He smiled wider when he saw your bashful smile, with your eyes darting around to look anywhere but at him. He could see that you were quite a shy person, and it made him feel something in his stomach that he couldn’t quite identify. “See ya.” He turned around and walked across the street as you opened your door and let yourself in. Once you were behind walking up the stairs to your apartment you let out a little squeal of excitement.

“Oh my gosh!” You jumped up and down like an exciting schoolgirl fawning over their crush. You couldn’t believe that your first date with a man who was as good looking as that went so well. Jeno seemed kind of rough around the edges in appearance, but his personality was the complete opposite, obviously you knew that he hadn’t shown you all of him yet, but your first impressions were very good. Still, you felt yourself getting sucked into his dark brown eyes whenever he talked, which wasn’t often, but it was enough. Needless to say, you went to sleep that night with a huge smile on your face, anticipating what’s to come.

---

“How did the date go?” Was the first thing Jeno heard when he walked through the door of the apartment after dropping you off at your own apartment. He headed into the living room and saw that Renjun had 1 year old Jiyeon sitting on his lap with kids cartoons playing on the television, Jaemin had a family sized packet of doritos laying on his stomach as he slouched beside Renjun, passing a chip to Jiyeon before shovelling loads into his own mouth, and Haechan had his girlfriend snuggled into his chest on the other sofa. Jeno’s heart sunk through his stomach as he saw his ex-girlfriend looking at his best friend with so much love in her eyes, a look she never gave him when they were together. It felt to him as though all of the happiness he’d built up from his date was flushed down the toilet as he tore his eyes away from the couple. It was very apparent to him in that moment that he wasn’t over her, and his feelings for her hadn’t gone away at all.

“Good, really good. I got her number.” He gulped before mumbling, awkwardly scratching his head and sighing as he took off his jacket. She pulled her head away from Haechan’s chest and gave him an awkward smile.

“You went on a date?” She asked softly.

“Mhm.” He didn’t trust his voice, so he just hummed and nodded.

“I’m happy for you Jen.” The whole room felt like it was suffocating him as all eyes turned to look at him. It felt very much like pity to Jeno, causing heat to rush to his cheeks and a slight resentment and anger to boil inside of him. Ever since they’d ended things, his anger issues had spiked, and he found it hard to control his temper. The only time he’d ever been as angry was before he’d went to prison. He was like a ticking time bomb, or a bottle of soda that had been shook and ready to pop at any minute.

“Whatever.” He grunted, sinking on the sofa on the other side of Renjun and ignoring the way she cowered to his voice, settling her head back on Haechan’s chest as he scowled at Jeno. He didn’t mean to be cruel to her, he wanted nothing more than to be the one she was cuddling up to, but the resentment for her loving Haechan when she was supposed to love him still sat heavy inside of him.

“Jennie!” Jiyeon chirped, wiggling her way off of her father’s lap to sit on her uncle’s lap. She smiled at him and laid herself against his chest.

“Hi cupcake.” He ran his hand through her jet-black hair, wrapping his arms around her tiny frame and sighing as he cuddled her for comfort. “She’s starting to look more like you Renjun.” He commented, trying to change the tone in the room so it was less about him and more about the toddler cuddling him.

“She’s blessed then because I’m-”

“Ugly as fuck.” Jaemin mumbled, cutting Renjun off before he could finish and shovelling more chips into his mouth as he watched the kid cartoons. Renjun frowned, slamming his fist down on Jaemin’s packet of doritos and smirking when the sound of them crushing into small pieces sounded throughout the room. Jiyeon laughed loudly as she watched the interaction between them, the sound of her sweet laughter calming Jeno down completely.

---

The cool air in the bar kept your cheeks from blazing in heat every time Jeno looked you in the eye. The bar wasn’t very busy, making it feel more intimate as you didn’t have to compete with other voices to allow Jeno’s ears to hear your voice. It was dark in the bar, the cover of night making visibility poor despite how the artificial lights in the bar tried their hardest to lit the place up with mood lighting. His blond hair was pushed back off of his forehead, and small smudges of black eyeliner around his beautiful eyes. His black button up shirt had the first two buttons undone, and he had a pair of black skinny jeans on, his hair being the only contrast to his entirely black outfit. You wore a simple dress and flats, keeping close to him in the busy bar as to not have random people bump into you. He had his hand pressed to your lower back and he kept his eyes on the people around you both. You took a mouthful of your drink and looked up at Jeno, completely in awe of his handsome looks. He had his eyes trained on someone behind you and he didn’t seem to be tearing his eyes away from them. You didn’t want to turn around, just in case he was staring at another woman. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle that well if that was the case. It was your second date, a week from your first date, so you hoped that he at least had some affection towards you despite the fact the two of you hadn’t actually made your relationship official.

“So…” You racked your brain to quickly think of something you could say to him that would bring his attention back to you. “I…er…I had another driving lesson today, it went well!” You smiled up at him, but he still continued to stare over the top of your head, completely ignoring you. You felt dejected, letting out a soft sigh and looking down at your feet. You felt as though he wasn’t interest in you at all. You’d hardly gotten anything out of him the entire time you’d been stood beside him at the bar, and you felt as though a brick wall would be more interested in you. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that the hand he had set on the side of the bar curled into a fist, and his body visibly tensed up.

“Hey!” He snapped, causing you to flinch and look up at him with worry in your eyes, expecting that he was going to be looking at you, ready to have a go at you, you didn’t know why though, you didn’t think you’d done anything wrong. “Stop staring at my girlfriend.” He growled; his eyes still trained over the top of your head. Your eyes widened and you turned around, noticing a middle-aged man stood a few metres away from you with his eyes stuck on you. Your mouth dropped open as you realised Jeno had been staring out the creepy looking guy, being protective over you. Your heart flipped and you felt silly for having thought he was eyeing up another woman. A wave of heat rushed through you as you realised Jeno must have been interested in you to get so worked up over another man staring at you, also he referred to you as his girlfriend, which caught you off guard but made a flower of happiness blossom inside of you.

“What are you going to do about it?” The man smirked, clearly not caring that he was antagonising Jeno. Jeno’s face hardened more and he pulled you quickly so that you were behind him, not having any worry in approaching the man and getting close to him.

“Do you really want to find out?” He said lowly, his tone dripping in threat as both of his fists clenched up, his shoulders tensing too and becoming broader as he squared up to the man. The man smirked and stood up straighter, about the same height as Jeno and ready to fight him. You gasped, gently laying a hand on Jeno’s shoulder.

“Jeno come on, lets just go.” You spoke softly, feeling the muscle underneath your hand relax momentarily.

“She’s too good for you. She needs a man, not a boy.” The man laughed, glancing past Jeno to wink at you. Jeno shoved him so hard that he tripped over the bar stool behind him and fell on his ass. The man had a face of complete shock, clearly not having expected the ‘boy’ to be that strong and gutsy enough to actually put him on his ass.

“One more word and you won’t be feeling like a man for a long time.” Jeno snapped, standing over the man and giving him a look that could probably petrify someone. You knew Jeno was rough around the edges, but you never would have thought he could do something like that. It shocked you and you felt yourself taking a few steps back from him, not knowing him well enough to know what he was going to do next. After silence fell between them both, Jeno turned around, snatching your hand into his own and pulling you firmly out of the bar. You had to jog to keep up with his fast strides. He didn’t let go of your hand, and pulled you down the street, his shoulders still tense and his breathing heavy. The grip he had on your hand was starting to hurt more from how hard he was squeezing your hand, which was considerably smaller than his own.

“Jeno…you’re hurting me.” You said quietly, but he heard you. Stopping almost immediately he turned to look at you, letting go of your hand and gulping. He looked down once before looking back up, giving you direct eye contact that almost made you have a heart attack.

“I’m sorry…are you okay?” He looked worried, all of his pent-up anger washing away after hearing your fragile tone. You nodded, flexing your fingers out and rubbing your hand with your other hand.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concerned about him for how he acted in that situation.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to see me like that…we need to talk.” His gave you a weak smile, almost like he was giving you pity, which made your stomach fall to the floor as you thought he was about to end things with you.

“O-oh…okay.” He got out his car keys and you followed him to his car. He unlocked it and motioned with his head for you to climb in. You both got in, but he made no effort in turning on the car, and instead put his keys in the cupholder before turning to him.

“I lied to you about my job. I don’t help out at the mechanic shop. I fight, illegally.” His words had your eyebrows raising in surprise, many of questions sitting on the tip of your tongue, but left unsaid as you had a feeling he was about to go into more detail anyway. “It’s called underground street fighting, and it’s not legal in the slightest. It’s dangerous, and I’ve been injured more times than I care to admit, and I’ve also inflicted life changing injuries on other men. I’ve seen people black out and never wake up again. It’s tough but…it’s really good money, and it’s a way that I can let go of all of my anger. I have a lot of anger problems, I won’t lie to you about it, it’s bad, and honestly I’m surprised that I managed to walk away from that asshole without punching him in the face.” He let out a very gently laugh that was humourless, his eyes searching your face for your reaction. You just nodded, biting you bottom lip as it occurred to you that you were dating a very dangerous man.

“Why?” You asked, causing his head to tilt in question.

“Why what?”

“Why are you so angry?” Your voice was quiet and soft but held no judgement towards him. You really liked him, and this was the furthest you’d ever gotten with a guy, so you didn’t want to throw it all away just because he was a little bit different from everyone else. He took a deep breath and looked away from you for a moment, before dragging his eyes back to look at you. It was dark in the car, the only light coming from the streetlight above his car, but you could still see the painful look in his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak to you.

“I grew up in a very poor family with a father who abused my mum and me. It caused my mum to have very bad depression, which had an effect on me. I let the abuse happen for too long, and then when I was 15 I got introduced into the street fighting. I finally felt like I had some power, and it earnt me a lot of money, which I’d never had before. Even though I was fighting out of the house, at home I was still being beaten, and one night when I as 17, my dad hit my mum so hard that the force of her hitting the wall left a dent in it.” He paused, squeezing his eyes shut as he remembered the memory. You reached out and took his hand in both of yours, showing him that you were listening and not judging him. “I saw red, I just remember pulling my dad away from her. I don’t remember much of what happened, because I was in a frenzy. But the next thing I remember is my mum trying to pull me off of my dad. He was underneath me on the floor and his face was…unrecognisable. There was so much blood…” He remembered how his hands were shaking and covered in blood, a mixture of his fathers’ blood and his own blood from how his fists had pummelled into his fathers’ face. His face was wet with tears and blood that had spurted from his life givers face, and he remembered how his own mother cowered away from him like he was the one who had been inflicting pain on her for the past 17 years of his life. “She called for an ambulance whilst I sat on the floor covered in blood. The police came as well, and I got arrested. I went to prison for a year because I was still a minor and they classed it as self-defence. My mother visited me once, and I don’t see her often because she says its hard for her to look at me after what I did. But she isn’t with my father anymore, so I can live with that.” You could tell from the tone of his voice that even though he said he could live with it, that it was hard for him to live with it. It suddenly occurred to you that he wasn’t different from other people. He was simply a broken person trying their best to live in a world where he’d been dealt shit cards from the start.

“Is your dad…?” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, but he knew what you were asking.

“No. He’s alive. I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing. Hell I don’t even know if he looks the same as what he used to. I did a lot of damage to his face so…” He shrugged, his hand holding onto yours firmly. “After I came out of prison, I continued street fighting and moved in with my friends. They had all gotten a place together and left a room free for me when I got out. They’re my family now.”

“I’m glad you have people you can rely on; they sound like great people.” He laughed at your words.

“A teen dad, a drug dealer, and an illegal street racer. They’re great, but not morally.” He chuckled at your shocked expression, using his free hand to reach out and cup your cheek. “They’re harmless to people that don’t get on their bad side.” He stroked his thumb over your hot skin and smiled at you. He felt affection bloom in his stomach when he saw that you accepted him for who he was. It was different with his ex, she was used to the lifestyle he lived like, but he knew from your stories that you were raised in a respectable household and you’d never done anything bad in your entire life. You were complete polar opposites, and for the first time in months he could think about his ex-girlfriend and not feel a pull towards her like her had before. Instead he was being pulled towards you like a magnet. You were the positive side, and he was the negative side, and you fit together so perfectly.

“I hope they’ll like me.” You admitted, leaning your head into his touch to show you were enjoying it.

“They will.” He smiled, neglecting to tell you that one of his best friends was dating his ex-girlfriend, but he could only pile so much information on you at a time without overwhelming you.

“I actually have a small confession to make too.” You plucked up the courage despite the pang of anxiety you felt in your stomach.

“Oh god, you’re not a crazy axe murderer, are you?” He was clearly joking, his eye dropping into a wink as he pretending to be shocked.

“No!” You giggled, his hand dropping to your hands. “I’ve never dated anybody before, and I’ve never had a boyfriend…or had sex. I have been kissed though!” His smile never faltered and if anything, he felt even more drawn towards you, liking that you were pure for him. it drove him crazy to even think about another man having his hands on you. “So this is all new to me, and I’m super nervous but trying to play it cool so that you didn’t think I was strange or anything, and I really like you and I don’t care about your job and-” You were cut off by his lips pressing to your own, your eyes shutting as you melted into the kiss. It was short and sweet, but his lips did linger and place another peck to your lips.

“I guess I should do this properly then.” He smiled, kissing you once more and smiling into the kiss. “(Y/N), do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulled away from you and stared into your eyes. You felt your cheeks almost burning up, the car feeling suddenly stuffy as you looked at him.

“Yes.” You nodded quickly, letting your eyes slowly shut as his hands cupped your face, drawing his lips to yours once more in a slower, more passionate kiss.

---

Hey! Thank you for reading! Did you like it? What do you think so far? What do you think is going to happen? Let me know!

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akutagawasbitch · 4 years

Note

Aku, Atsushi, Chuuya, Higuchi, and whoever u want--how do they act when they're black out drunk??? Absolutely shit faced?

Of course my love, I had so much fun writing these. Let the crack commence <3

Chuuya

As we all know he can fly but when he's drunk he'll fly into shit all the fucking time. The side of a building, random walls, the window of his penthouse. You name it he's probably flown into it and face planted it while drunk

He also suffers from short man syndrome and will not hesitate to punch anyone. He has been kicked out of many bars for throwing the bartender when they cut him off

He likes to flirt but when drunk, he turns into a mess. Slurring his words, mixing up pickup lines and or just forgetting how to speak. It's all happened to him before but if dazai is around? He turns into the best womanizer in all of Yokohama for the sake of his pride

His favourite drunk food is ramen, he'll make shitty 99 cent ramen in his penthouse and devour it

His normally refined palette goes out the window

While he can be aggressive, if you're friendly to him, Chuuya will be your friend and be an absolute sweetheart back. He's made many a friend on drinking nights who he never remembers but they remember him

Amazon and drunk Chuuya are his wallet's greatest enemy

He will spend hours scrolling through and buy himself the stupidest shit ever

He once bought a massive playhouse because he wanted one

He'll also buy himself hats

Buys ridiculous shit and has it delivered to Dazai's apartment

One time he had hair removal cream disguised as shampoo order and dazai used it

Loves to dance while drunk

He will fucking get down with any song and is amazing at dancing

Loves going to karaoke bars, gets super into it. He will sing any song and is always surprisingly good at it.

Passes out super quickly and easily so he never stays out too long

Dazai

Doesn’t like drinking too much as it reminds him of when him and Oda would go to Lupin together.

When he’s drunk, he swears he can hear Oda talking to him telling him what an idiot he’s being.

He’s either an incredibly happy and elated drunk or a horribly suicidal depressed drunk. It depends on how much he has to drink. If he’s tipsy, he laughs a lot and feels a genuine sense of happiness, not the fake happiness he feels most of the time. If he is blackout drunk, he’s depressed and highly suicidal but in a more serious way. No more mushrooms or trying to drown himself, he goes for knives and pills but he always wakes up.

He will trip a lot and be incredibly clumsy when drunk. His bandages come undone which he doesn’t notice causing him to trip on them. This happens regularly

When drunk he’s more prone to bumping his head on things since he isn’t paying attention. Ceilings, fans, lights, door frames. No matter what drunk dazai is a tall bastard with no spatial awareness

His flirting goes through the roof when drunk. He will flirt with anything that moves, he does not care.

You know what else goes through the roof when he’s drunk? His d- appetite. This man can rival Kenjii or Atsushi in how much he can eat when drunk. He orders 6 different plates of crab and devours them like he’s never eaten in his life.

His self restraint goes out the window and he’ll go break into Chuuya’s apartment just to mess with him and steal his hat or something along those lines. Drunk Dazai loves to fuck with people.

He’s also more relaxed and will happily let Naomi or Yosano do his makeup if they asked nicely enough. He’d brag about how he’s the “prettiest princess of them all” before passing out

Aku

You think Akutagawa has no filter? Wait until you meet drunk Akutagawa. This man doesn’t even know what a filter is.

He deadass looks at Chuuya and stares at him before commenting “You’re short” with a deadpan look.

He also has a surprisingly high tolerance and enjoys strong alcohol over wine.

His lack of filter gets him into trouble more often than not and he gets into fights a lot. He actually uses his fists while drunk over using Rashomon mainly because he can barely speak a word without hiccuping

He has trouble speaking, he either hiccups through every sentence or slurs his words to the point where they are unintelligible

He is more chatty than normal but don’t expect a Dazai or Chuuya level of chatter.

He likes to drink spiked teas

He does enjoy drinking with others and enjoys accompanying Chuuya on nights out

He will devour a massive bowl of curry while drunk. He rarely eats when sober but when drunk? He’ll eat anything put in front of him

He is still pretty quick on his feet and agile but he is prone to falling over

He literally once woke up Gin because he fell over their couch when walking into their apartment and he just lay on the floor cursing out the sofa

He’ll roast the fuck out of Dazai and Atsushi while drunking and make various death threats

Aku ends up being rather protective of others while drunk and has scared of a number of creepy men making advances on uninterested women, he’s like a guard dog in that regard

He will pass out fairly quickly once he gets home, refuses to pass out anywhere other than his bed

Higuchi

As we found out in the PM Onsen CD, Higuchi cries when she’s drunk. She’ll cry over a cute puppy or cry over a mission going wrong or she’ll just cry because she got praise from Akutagawa.

She also will talk for hours on one specific topic. Either its Akutagawa or something completely random. She’ll rarely talk about her sister but when she’s drunk she’ll open up more about her and tell everyone how much she loves her sister.

She is also a lightweight and will pass out fairly quickly

She likes sweet things when drunk and will eat something sweet that’s near her.

She also has to hold Akutagawa back from fighting people or prevent him from getting punched because his no filter talk insulted the wrong person

She isn’t an aggressive drunk but an emotional one.

Gin

Gin isn’t a big talker, but she’ll talk more if she is drunk drunk and comfortable enough with the people she is drinking with

She will laugh a lot while drunk and smile but it's hard to tell with her mask on

Gin as we all know is insanely fast and agile but when she’s drunk? All her agility goes out the window and she will face plant the floor if she tries any of her tricks.

I think she has a sweet tooth, so I can see her enjoying mochi ice cream while drunk

She also would love to watch people do karaoke, she won't participate since she’s too shy but seeing Chuuya and everyone else do it makes her laugh so hard her sides hurt

She lets out her more soft side and tries to pet all animals she sees

She once stole a duck and brought it home, Akutagawa wasn’t happy

Atsushi

He will be a mess

100% a giggly drunk, he’ll find everything funny, even Kunkida’s dad jokes.

He’ll accidently activate his ability and be walking around with a tail and not even notice it.

Speaking of his tail, when drunk he likes to chase it as he gives into his more cat like tendencies, Dazai has a video of Atsushi chasing his tail for a good 20 minutes

This boy will devour an entire restaurants worth of chazuke, if he could while drunk

He likes to climb trees and he’s good at it, Kunida once found him at the top of a tree curled up asleep

He’s also more blunt and will roast the fuck out of Akutagawa

He also roasts Dazai a little bit but not as much as Akutagawa

He likes to transform into is tiger form and nap when drunk

He’d probably curse and then say fuck because he cursed and then just spiral into a stream of fucks

He will try catch cats to cuddle, he once followed a cat two blocks just to pet him

I imagine him enjoying amusement parks so he’d go to once while drunk and have the time of his life until he got nauseous on the rides

I also imagine he like play video games so when drunk he’ll do that and have the time of his life

Suddenly sweet baby atsushi is cursing and swearing like a sailor

He’ll pass out pretty quick and once he’s passed out, he’s out like a light for the rest of the evening.

Junchiro

He likes his alcohol delivered in baked goods

He will try drunk bake/cook

He will pass out quickly and just cuddle his own sweater

He tries to flirt with women but naomi does not like it

My man will be shirtless trying to make a souffle at 2am

This was so fun to write, I’m sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy this crack <3

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Ducklings & Dimples 2

Original / Sequel

➜ Words: 17.1k

➜ Genres: 58% Fluff, 20% Adventure, 20% Action, 2% Angst, Historical!AU - kind of

➜ Summary: After your adventures with Yoongi, you head home to face your family and the duties you've run from. A year has passed since. But you never anticipated meeting him again with his fiancée.

The country of Pegan is one you’ve never had the opportunity to venture into. It was a place that you teetered on, scaling the border, poking your head into one or two of the small villages just to sell in before you were on your way. But you had heard lots about it in his letters. You just never thought you would be visiting it in such a way. Ten round towers form a protective barrier around the elegant castle and are connected by firm walls made of gray stone. Refined windows are scattered generously across the walls in an asymmetric pattern. Beyond the gates are well kept gardens with fragrant flowers, gorgeous trees and many bushes that decorate the outside of the castle. The castle itself has clearly been around for at least a thousand years, but it doesn't seem like it will collapse any time soon. “Back straight. You’re slouching, Taehyung,” your mother barks to your youngest brother and sharply inhales when Jin purposely bumps into him with his broad shoulders, telltale signs he’s trying to instigate more bickering. “Stop that right now, young man. You’re supposed to set an example as the eldest.” “I wasn’t even doing anything!” Jin protests to no avail. Taehyung’s mouth curls as he jumps on the opportunity to berate his older brother, “You’re twenty six. You should act like it.” Seokjin’s mouth drops open. “How dare you bring my age into this.” “Can you guys please shut your mouths for one second?” Lia is exasperated and glares. “People are staring at us.” “Now, now, children.” Your dad clears his throat and brushes off his shoulders. “Let’s not give your mother a hard time and argue in front of the Duchess’ castle.” Your mother holds in her sigh temporarily and makes it to your sister, smoothing out her dress that’s been wrinkled from the carriage ride. “Hair in place, darling.” Then she makes it to the end of the line and looks at you. Your eyes meet hers and you anticipate nagging. Perhaps an insult of how strands of hair have fallen from your updo and around your eyes. Or how you should get rid of that frown off your face before she singes it off. But to your surprise, your mother merely smiles and swivels around. “Shall we enter?” She’s trying — you can see it and it’s an effort you appreciate. Your entire family climbs the marble steps leading up to the grand doors already open with folks filtering inside. It was the Duchess of Pegan’s birthday, a week long affair and evidently, a huge celebration. Much too extravagant for your own tastes, but it’s not like your opinion matters. “Kaela, Elden!” The man in the foyer comes over with a golden chalice and his wife trails after him. Immediately, your mother curtsies along with your sister and you dip down after a delayed second, momentarily forgetting the manners drilled into your brain. “Duke and Duchess Fesan. It’s a pleasure.” “Oh please, don’t be a stranger. It’s been too long!” The older man has silver, short hair that almost fully covers his thin, lived-in face. But his eyes are fond as if he has seen many good things in his lifetime. Fesan Winsor is a duke, brother to the king that runs Pegan. You only know such facts after the relentless history lessons with your overbearing tutor. He gives a light embrace to your mother and father, nods his head towards you and Lia, and shakes Seokjin’s hand. “Why, you’ve grown to be such a strapping, young man. Handsome, indeed. The last I’ve seen of you, you were but a wee boy.” “Thank you.” Jin practically beams over the praise and you and Taehyung roll your eyes. “Are you looking to get married any time soon?” His irises sparkle. “Do you have someone in mind, your grace?” The Duke barks out laughing at the witty quip and your mother audibly sighs. “Seokjin’s much too deep in finishing his studies to be considering marriage, unfortunately. And a bit too immature to handle the responsibilities of such a thing.” “Oh you never know about children,” Duchess Jacquelyn laughs boisterously. “They always grow up faster than we realize.” The Duchess is in a lavish dress that looks like it’s about to swallow her whole, flashy to the maximum and heavy diamonds are wrapped around her neck. It makes you wonder if it aches. Her golden hair is stark with a bit of gray, yet she is bright eyed and overly friendly as she squeezes the living daylights out of Lia and then you. It’s unusual how she has no respect for personal boundaries or what’s mannerly for a high-class lady that she is. There’s small talk made between your father and the Duke, but as the Duchess pulls away from you, her face lights up as if she recalls something. “Wait a moment! You are Y/N, correct?” “Uh, yes. I am, madam.” “Then you were the one who defeated that vicious dragon from the North with Yoongi, weren’t you?! Why your tale of bravery is infamous!” She grasps your hands with an excited smile. You swallow hard, not sure how you feel about being viewed as a hero when you’re not. But you don’t say anything for fear of having to explain. It’s not like you told your own family the true story. “Yes, what an amazing feat,” Duke Winsor marvels. “You must be very prideful to have such a hero in the family.” Your mother is visibly pleased while your dad plops a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N is indeed turning out to be the best sorcerer in our family.” “You would be too if you studied more,” Taehyung mutters to Lia and nudges her while she glares at him. “What about you, Mr. I’m-too-tired-to-practice-magic.” “Children,” your mother’s voice is full of scolding but a pleasant smile is placed on her features. It’s frightening and jarring how different her expression can be from what comes out of her mouth. “Oh, you must be so eager to see your old friend.” The Duchess turns over her shoulder. “Yoongi was here just a moment ago.” You nod stiffly, tight-lipped. “I’ll make sure to send my greetings to him later.” The middle-aged folks continue talking as you and the rest of your siblings stand there like stone statues that are decorating the castle. But as you look around the crowds, fearing the worst, you feel Jin poke you. “Was that the guy you were sending letters to every day?” he asks, referring to what Duchess Jacquelyn said. “Shut it.” Taehyung raises his brows with an amused smile, but no one speaks. It’s become a sensitive topic but always has been — you’ve never let any of them see your letters and you threw a big fuss on several occasions when Lia tried to sneak peaks. Now you regret it. Why did you spend so much time doing such petty, futile things. Eventually, you’re granted mercy when the Duke and Duchess continue welcoming new arrivals and everyone disperses for drinks. And unlike what they said, you’re not eager to see your old ‘friend’ at all. You’re trying to steer clear of him. “What are you doing standing here in the corner?” Your mother finds you reclusive with a flute of ale. It’s not the most sophisticated drink, but does enough to put you more at ease. Though, much to your dismay, she pries the glass out of your grip. “You should be socializing! Making connections. Like your brother!” She turns and you see Taehyung by the refreshment table with a younger girl who looks visibly uncomfortable. He barks out in deafening laughter, startling a few other guests and your mother sighs while you hold back a smile. “Maybe not quite like him.” “Is there something you want to say, mom?” It’s not like her to be so vague and to encourage you to talk to others. She’s always been apprehensive about you mingling, assuming you’re trying to scam them — which you usually are, so her caution isn’t unreasonable. “There’s a divine soul sorcerer,” she announces and instantly, you groan. “Of course there is.” “Don’t give me that look. You haven’t even spoken to him yet.” Unlike how you receive your magic from a legendary phoenix, divine soul sorcerers are blessed individuals who have a connection to divine beings. Whether they align with an ancient prophecy or their ancestor is an angel. They’re undoubtedly someone who could match the status of your family. You’re starting to suspect the reason your mother even came all the way over here was to get you to meet him. “Fine, I’ll talk to him,” you say, just to get her off your back. Your mother’s wrinkles crease when she smiles. “Good to hear. Now that’s one less issue off my plate— “ “I think Taehyung’s trying to impress that girl,” you interrupt, tilting your body over to the youngest who’s about to set the tablecloth on fire. Your mother practically swears underneath her breath and goes marching over without bidding you farewell. There’s a faint smile on your features and as a Halfling waiter passes, you grab a glass of manycherries wine. You release a long exhale, feeling your eyes bags deepen as exhaustion sets into you. Your eyes flicker to the fire roaring underneath the mantle. The rose and orange flames glow against your cheeks. Your fingers. And incidentally, it grows stronger. You feel the fire envelop you. The chatter of the room simmers down as you focus on the crackle and pop of the inferno. But unfortunately, it doesn’t last long. Not with the shrill voices close to you— “It’s a surprise, no? Even the Duke’s fiftieth birthday wasn’t as extravagant as this. All five houses are here and they even extended the invitations to families beyond Pegan.” “Well perhaps they had a good season or maybe one of the houses expanded their territory and we just haven’t heard about it yet. The Duke and Duchess looks after the entire territory and all the faction houses. It’s only natural they benefit from any changes, right?” “Don’t you two know?” “Know what?” “The reason this celebration is lavish….is because it’s practically an engagement party in disguise.” You exhale out of your nose, downing the glass of wine and when you finish, you see a familiar face in the midst. It’s a slender half-Elf with long blonde hair that’s half tied up and reaches to his ribs. Yorril. You remember his name after beating his ass with Yoongi in Bogsburrough a year ago. The memory causes the corner of your mouth to tug in a smirk. He sees you too and immediately turns away, walking off with his eyes wide. There are lots of people from different factions here, but you don’t know any of their names and don’t care to. Though out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a tall man in a white cape fluttering behind with his eyes focused right on you — undoubtedly the divine sorcerer your mother was referring to by his blinding aura — and you take Yorril’s inspiration and walk away as well. You drop your glass on a nearby table and zip into the dark hallway without looking back. You’re not sure where you’re going, merely winding down the corridors. But eventually your steps slow. Goosebumps raise all over the back of your arm. It feels like you’re being watched. Like there’s someone creeping. That there’s a presence behind you. But before you can turn around to discern what it is, a husky timbre makes you halt. “...alright?” At once your body seizes, freezing in its stop. Your blood runs warmer and your back meets the stone wall. There’s a sliver of light coming from the parted door inches away and you pull your orb out from the secret pocket you sewn into your dress. Gripping the object, you channel your magic and cast clairvoyance. The hearing sensor is placed behind the door. “Thank you, Yoongi.” It’s an unfamiliar soft-spoken voice. You hear his hum. “You’re welcome.” “I’m sorry. I know there’s a lot of people out there. I didn’t think my mother would invite so many people. It’s usually not like her to do this and—” “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind as much as you think I do.” “Really?” “I can’t say I enjoy it, but it’s not so bad every so often.” You swallow hard, feeling your heart clog your throat. Though before you can hear another thing, a hand plops down on your shoulder. And you nearly shriek in surprise. Out of all people, you turn to find dad wearing a mischievous smile that Taehyung and Seokjin inherited, and he nudges his chin to the door. “Your mother wouldn’t like you eavesdropping, you know. Come on, let’s go back.” You nod, following after him. The two of you return to the main room and step out into the terrace, away from the crowd. “There’s plenty of other men out there, Y/N.” “I know,” you mutter without looking at him, unable to help sulking. The older man smiles, having an inkling of why you’ve been so quiet. “It’s okay for you to be upset. Everything’s a process of trial and error. And it’s something that’ll come and go in due time.” You sigh lightly, trying to muster a smile that never really comes. “You want me to meet that divine soul sorcerer like mom, don’t you?” “Heavens no.” Your dad pats you on the back as you look out into the gardens. “I just want the best for my daughter.” You meet his eye and he grins. It’s moments like these that you’re glad you came home. “Elden!” The pair of you turn around as an older woman with cat-like eyes and a piercing stare steps out onto the terrace, her slender black dress sparkling like the stars. “My goodness, it’s been ages!” “Hyoyeon.” Your dad gives a laugh. “You haven’t aged a day!” They come to an embrace and she pulls away. “Oh, you’re too kind. Have you met my son yet?” Your worst nightmare emerges. Yoongi is dressed in a black tunic, pants, boots and a black velvet cape draped over his left side. He looks less like a knight on a quest and more like a prince. But one thing that hasn’t changed is his duckling-like hair. Strands of pale yellow that stand out. His eyes immediately center on you in surprise. As if he wasn’t expecting you here. And of course he wasn’t. You hated functions and celebrations like these, but once you heard the rumours, you couldn’t help but beg to come. Or maybe he’s giving you that expression because of how odd you look. You suppose he’s never seen you in anything other than braids and that peasant dress that you used to disguise yourself in. Now, your mother wouldn’t catch you dead in attire like that. But with him comes the Duke’s daughter, Fesan Klarinda, the Marquise of Pegan. She’s petite with spiral curls and dimples dotted in each side of her cheek. She’s the epitome of delicate. Instantly, the girl looks between you and Yoongi, realizing that your gazes are locked into one another’s. “Y/N.” He breathes it out and something swells inside your throat to hear him call your name. It’s hard to keep your face blank and impassive. Yoongi’s mother glances at him and then you. “You know each other?” “She was my partner during my adventure.” “She helped you defeat the dragon? Y/N from the great Phoenix family?” his mother gasps and nudges him. With her teeth gritted, she mutters, “Why didn’t you tell me that? Had I known….” Your dad’s laugh cuts through the suffocating tension. “Such a small world indeed. But I’m glad to finally meet the man who protected my daughter. Congratulations on your engagement, son.” “It’s nice to meet you,” Yoongi’s fiancée says with a demure smile and you give a curtsy without uttering a word. “Is your eldest son here, Hyoyeon?” “Oh, Hoseok unfortunately couldn’t make it to the occasion. He’s busy studying arcane magic in a monk temple in Baldur's Gate. So I only have my youngest with me today.” “Not at all! Education is of the utmost priority for the children.” While they speak, Klarinda clears her throat. “There must be a lot to catch up on since you and Yoongi are fairly close, I heard.” “Yes, he is a great friend to me, my lady.” Yoongi’s eye twitches, but you pay no mind. You don’t speak a single word to him and while it’s terribly awkward, you seize the opportunity to leave. “I find myself a bit parched. If you'll excuse me.” You get away as quickly as you can while grabbing fistfuls of your heavy dress, feeling more strands falling out of your updo. But being out of his presence doesn’t mean you’ve escaped. You feel the weight of Yoongi’s intent gaze on you all night, from across the room to the table. You’re barely able to survive dinner and the food’s not at all charred enough to your tastes. You’re beginning to regret coming here. Even when you knew you had to see it for yourself. “Excuse me. I believe you are Lady Y/N, right?” After dinner, the divine soul sorcerer finally corners you at a moment when your guard is down, having been too focused on Yoongi. The man has silver hair neatly coiffured, but the colour isn’t from age nor is it lackluster. It matches his cape and white attire. Undoubtedly, the sorcerer has an otherworldly appearance. He’s handsome and practically radiant to that of an angel’s. And he draws attention, causing girls to turn their heads and swoon for him. You can only imagine his power and it’s no wonder your mother has insisted that you meet him. But you are far from being impressed. “You are?” “Allow me to introduce myself! I am Jinha, a favoured soul sorcerer. Son of the magnificent Concordia House here in Pegan. My ancestor was the chosen one of the Goddess Mystra.” His palm opens and he glances at your hand. But you don’t entertain the idea of him kissing your knuckles, so he retracts his arm after an awkward moment. He clears his throat. “You look absolutely ravishing. The most beautiful person at this party aside from myself of course,” he quips. You deadpan, “Thanks.” “Are you enjoying the party?” Hardly. “I am.” “Have you tried any of the crab-stuffed lobster tail yet—?” “I much prefer the wine.” You grab a glass from the tray of a stubby butler passing by and you down half of it. When you lower the glass, you find that he’s still there, smirking like an idiot. While this relationship would be textbook perfect, you hate sorcerers. You are one, have three siblings that are, spent your childhood surrounded by them. So you know best how arrogant and entitled sorcerers can be. You bet he spends his free time looking in the mirror. Plus, there’s already enough magic in you for two people. “I happened to speak to your mother earlier, Lady Y/N.” “Did you?” “She said you’ve been traveling before. I have been traveling across the lands myself, so we have quite a bit in common.” “Yes,” you answer in a monotone and then your eyes light up as you spin around on your heel to him. “Actually, she might’ve not told you but I run a business.” “A business?” “I’m a business woman. It’s gotten a bit pushed to the side since I’ve gotten home, but maybe I should start it back up again.” “What kind of business is it?” Jinha stands straighter as if to show how capable he is. “I would love to help.” “Would you?” A feigned coy smile comes across your face and you lean in to graze his shoulder. “I have quite a bit of valuables collected and a lot of ancient potions I sell. All from my travels. You’re actually very fortunate since I have one with me. Would you like to buy one? I’ll be willing to give it to you at a reduced price of ten gold pieces.” Since the first time you’ve arrived, you feel energy return to you. But then much to your dismay, the damned sorcerer apologizes— “I don’t actually have any gold on me right now.” “How about your ring.” You point downward, never breaking eye contact. “This is once in a lifetime opportunity.” Either your skills are rusty or he’s denser than a rock because your persuasions don’t get through. “I would never dare to give you such a worthless ring, Lady Y/N! With so many shiny valuables practically overflowing out of the hundreds of rooms at my enormous manor, you deserve something much more precious. Perhaps we could arrange a time when you could come visit my massive estate.” You audible sigh, not even trying to hide it. For the next ten minutes, the sorcerer bores you with speech about himself, his family, how he personally knows the Duke, how he’s expanding his manor to have two more gardens and five more fountains, and how delicious the crab-stuffed lobster tail is. You barely manage to escape, simply excusing yourself to find your sister. But as you turn the corner, away from prying eyes and ears, you grip your orb in your pocket and channel your arcane magic. You cast disguise self and at once, you take the form of the stubby butler from earlier. A foot shorter, larger, and white tailcoat with black breeches. Your empty glass even turns into a tray and you strut down the corridor with your head held high. You’re going to leave. Out the front door. Never to return. Coming here was a mistake — and confronting Yoongi isn’t something you think you have in you. You’re better suited to having no real relationships, no commitment, no attachments. Merely traveling around and scamming others is what you do best. After all, things were easier back then when you had no direction. There was less emotional turmoil. Fewer obligations. Fewer consequences. But regrets are a little too late, so in the heat of the moment, you throw away your hard-earned compromise with your mother and decide to run. Yet, before you can even think of launching yourself out the open arched window, your eyes grow wide at the man at the end of the hall. Yellow strands of hair catch your attention first. Then it’s the sleepy eyes. The tender features. Immediately, you pull your gaze away from him and stare ahead. It’s not too hard to make yourself unsuspicious when you’re disguised as a butler and Yoongi seems to pay no mind to you either. He merely walks past and you breathe a sigh of relief. But then strong arms wrap around your waist and your back meets a firm chest. The spell breaks. He saw right through you. Right through your illusion. Yoongi’s soft exhale causes goosebumps to rise all over your arms. “Thank god, it’s you. I was worried that it was really the butler.” His timbre is huskier than you remember. You stumble out of his embrace and turn around. “I apologize, sir. I wasn’t trying to create any trouble. ” “Sir?” Yoongi’s brows furrow, deep enough that it looks like it hurts. Neither of you say anything for a long moment as he stares at you and you divert your vision, preferring to admire how smooth the white pillars of the castle look. Then, his hand suddenly reaches out to graze the loose strands of hair that have fallen from your updo. It’s a gentle gesture and he quietly comments, “Your hair’s gotten longer.” But you don’t react. “How have you been?” he asks faintly. “Fine.” You keep your reply curt and short. Distant. “Congratulations on your engagement, sir.” “Y/N.” He sounds annoyed. “Let me explain—” But when you finally meet his gaze, your eyes are painfully stinging and his voice tapers off. You curse underneath your breath, having tried so hard to keep yourself together. Yet the effort to prevent humiliation is being swept down the drain, so you grab fistfuls of your dress and march away. “Y/N!” Yoongi doesn’t chase after you. You snivel violently, doing all you can to not let tears shed. You fail to watch where you’re going and you run into your older sister. “Where have you…..are you okay?” Lia looks down at you, her eyes wide at your state. You merely shake your head and her lips pout as she pulls you in. She doesn’t need to ask. “It’s okay. There, there. No one’s going to hurt you.” She’s wrong. You’ve already been hurt. // Min Yoongi is a bastard. You’ve sorely underestimated his abilities. He manipulates emotions better than you can, but you’re more so angry at yourself for misinterpreting memories. For allowing your imagination to take its course. After all, it’s easier to transform your hurt into anger than reveling in sorrow. You’ve never been the type to be passive. The morning after the banquet, there are tournaments out on the East field. You’re seated at the rows near the Duke and Duchess with the rest of your family. Taehyung is watching intently while Seokjin prefers to wave to girls seated a few seats down much to your mother’s dismay. You’re sitting beside Lia who has her parasol to shield the sun away and is fanning herself to keep sweat from her face. She hasn’t teased you about last night, not when it looked serious enough. But she hasn’t pried either, even though you know eventually she will. Curiosity has always been a fault in your family — second to recklessness. You watch as two men below fight, one with a bow and the other with a mace. You don’t recognize them, merely knowing they’re from different factions. And that they seem to be taking their hatred out on each other. “Ooh.” Taehyung sharply inhales when the Elf with the mace slashes the Half-Elf holding the bow. “That looks like it hurts.” The Half-Elf surrenders and the Halfling referee calls an end to the match. “It’s so hot out,” Lia pants and wipes her forehead with a handkerchief. “Since when did you care about sweating or not?” you ask, lolling your head to the side. She clicks her tongue. “Tch. Don’t you know how many potential suitors are here? I have to look my best. You should too.” “Can I leave?” you ask your mother, tilting yourself to her. Seokjin whirls his head around. “I second that.” “Absolutely not,” she hisses and glances over her shoulder, making sure that the Duke and Duchess aren’t listening. “We are honoured guests and it would be very rude.” “At least wait until the intermission,” your father adds with a charming smile. With that said, you sit back and try to get comfortable. From below, the Halfling referee steps up to his podium and announces through a cone, “For our next match, on the right is Jinha, divine sorcerer from the House of Concordia. And to our left is Yoongi, knight fighter from the House of Min and the Order of the Black Sun!” Your breath hitches in your throat. Immediately, Lia nudges you. “Who’s that?” Her eyes are pinpointed to the obnoxious man from last night who emerges while sweeping his hair back, his golden staff carried in his grasps. But you’re preoccupied with the other man. Someone with pastel yellow hair. Even from far away, it’s all too stark against his heavy armour. And you swear he’s looking right at you. Or maybe not. It could be for his fiancée who’s diagonal to where you are. That would make more sense. You damn yourself for being delusional again. “So that’s him?” Taehyung turns to you, asking, “The one you sent letters to?” “I never did such a thing,” you mutter. The Halfling shouts at the top of his lungs and the match begins. Yoongi grips his rapier in his hands and closes the distance. He hits twice, slamming down the blade onto Jinha with narrowed eyes and then surges forward for a critical hit. His accuracy and precision has become more refined since the last time you saw him fight. Yet, Jinha never bumbles or falls to his knees in spite of the brutality. He tightens his grip on his staff, jaw clamping down. He casts burning hands. His fingers spread and a thin sheet of flames shoots forth from his outstretched fingertips. It causes Yoongi to stumble back and the sorcerer turns his head, flashing a bright grin towards the rows, undoubtedly for you. But you aren’t fazed — not when you’re at the edge of your seat, gaze placed on Yoongi. Lia, on the other hand, is the one who’s impressed. Her jaw draws open, a soft gasp befalling her lips as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. Across the field, your eyes lock into Yoongi’s. And then he’s moving again, blade slashing thrice. Jinha surrenders. “I should challenge you!” Taehyung suddenly breaks both you and Lia’s trance with his loud and startling voice, looking directly at Seokjin with a rectangular grin. “Do you want to fight?” “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” A wide smile spreads into your older brother’s face. “Do you think you could take me on?” Taehyung’s already rolling up his sleeves. “You’re just going to have to wait and s—” Your mother immediately pulls him down with the force of gravity itself. Her eyes pierce into your siblings. “Absolutely not! I won’t have any of my children fighting and hurting themselves!” The Halfling referee turns. “Does anyone want to challenge the victor of this mat—” You stand. “I do!” Your mother is absolutely mortified. Your father is taken aback. Taehyung is already smiling with a murmured ‘awesome’ while both Seokjin and Lia are visibly amused. There’s little your parents can do too when the Duchess starts clapping and hollering for you to enter the field and the Duke wishes you luck, citing that he’s excited to see the true capabilities of your household. “For our next match on the right is Y/N, phoenix sorcerer from the Kim Phoenix Household. And to our left is Yoongi, knight fighter from the House of Min and the Order of the Black Sun!” From the distance, no one can hear the two of you. No one can discern the way Yoongi’s looking at you. How he’s deflated, sword drooping by his side, his form not at all ready. “I’m not going to fight you,” Yoongi declares with the furrow of his brows. You scoff. “Then you’re weak.” Gripping your spellcasting focus, your blazing red and orange swirling orb, you channel your magic and cast fireball. A bright streak flashes from your pointing finger towards him, blossoming with a low roar into an explosion of flames. But it misses when he nimbly dodges out of the range. The spectators cheer, on the edge of their seats. Yoongi, realizing that you’re not conceding, moves towards you. He grips his rapier and hits twice, bringing his blade down to slash. You sharply inhale, but keep your feet rooted into the ground and as he raises his arm for the third time, it slips. The weapon falls to the ground. “Pick it up,” you spit at him in Elvish, straightening out your spine again. Gasping, you cast Melf’s Minute Meteors and six tiny meteors manifest. They float in the air and orbit you until you send both of them towards him. It misses, exploding on the ground instead. Yoongi grabs his sword, but when he hits you, it’s weak. It barely skims you. Doesn’t even break through skin. And he drops his rapier again. “Keep going! Don’t stop!” This time, the shout isn’t coming from you but from Duchess Jacquelyn who’s crazed as she grips the banister and cackles maniacally. The Duke stares at her in discomfort at how wrapped up she is and Yoongi’s fiancée, Klarinda, shakes her head. “Mom.” You have no plans of surrendering. Even if you drop dead here. You cast fireball again and this time, the blossoming roar of the flames consumes Yoongi. You hear him cry out in agony and you send two meteors orbiting you his way. One misses, but the other one explodes on his chest. Yoongi’s teeth clenches. His knuckles turn white. But before he surges forward with his rapier, the smoke dissipates and he sees you. Tears in your eyes. The trembling of your bottom lip. The quivering of your entire frame. And no one hears when you softly curse him— “Bastard.” Yoongi drops his sword into the dirt. “I forfeit.” At once, Klarinda races down the rows, grabbing fistfuls of her dress. “Excuse me, pardon me!” She races down the field undignified, but to resume to her fiancé’s side. She searches his expression. “A-Are you alright, Yoongi? I can heal you.” She casts cure wounds and presses her palms to his pectorals over his armour. And after she does so, she looks between you and Yoongi. But by that time, you’ve long grabbed your own dress and marched off the field, leaving the two lovers behind. At the exact same moment, a ghostly presence fades from the open arched window on the fourth floor, their eyes having been pinpointed on your figure for the entirety of the match. // There’s someone watching you. You can tell with the way goosebumps raise all over the back of your arm, hairs on the back of your neck lifted, how there’s a sudden weight of someone’s stare on your shoulders. It feels like there’s someone creeping, a presence behind you. Your heel pivots. “Yoon—” But it isn’t him or any of your siblings. A translucent force tries to push itself into your body, causing your words to choke in your throat, your weakened knees to stumble back. Your lungs wither and your throat dries as the remaining air inside you wheezes out. But you resist. With all the strength left inside of you. You use your remaining energy to prevent the force from taking control, from entering and intruding. And in the next moment, it slips out and flounders in front of you. What would be a terrified shriek ends up as coughs as you gasp for air. “W-What in the holy fuck—” It’s a ghost. A chubby man in white sleeping silks, his dark hair brushing against his shoulders, but his form translucent and feet floating inches off the cobblestone hall. Your seething fire running through your blood flares. It seeps out and magically wreathes around you as your eyes glow as hot coals. You lift your finger to him, threatening to attack and he steps back. “Hold on there! Don’t be hasty!” the ghost spits in panic. “I sincerely apologize for my blunder!” “Who are you?! What were you trying to do to me?!” “My name is Leo and I just wanted to borrow your body for a bit! You see...I have some unfinished business.” There’s an extended silence. Then you lower your arm and the fire drawn back into you. Your stare is unwavering and Leo musters a smile on his thin lips, wrinkles around his eyes creasing. “In hindsight, I should have asked. I apologize for intruding.” You scoff, guard still up. “What’s your unfinished business?” “Ah, I would like to see the sunrise one last time.” The ghost turns to glance out the window. “Someone once tried to banish me away, so now I’m in a quite unstable form. I am only able to venture in this realm when it is day or night when time itself is stable. I disappear every time there is a sunset or sunrise.” Your brow lifts. “So you’ve been haunting this castle?” “Well, I can’t leave if I have unfinished business.” Leo smiles at you, eyes almost hopeful. “Whoever tried to banish you should’ve done it properly,” you deadpan. Getting rid of this ghost could be your birthday present to the Duchess. “I don’t know the banishment spell unfortunately. But my older brother does.” You start to march down the hall, but the ghost follows after you frantically. “Please don’t banish me! I beg of you! Please!” It’s an opportunity and you seize it. Your feet halt and you twist to him with a smirk growing. “Then what will you offer me?” “Offer you?” “As payment.” Your arms cross. “We can strike a fair deal. If you want to borrow my body, I’ll let you. But only if you can give me gold.” The ghost bursts out in hearty laughter that streams from his chest. “I don’t have anything to my name anymore, dear sorcerer. Certainly not gold. I’m dead!” Your face morphs into impassivity, lips drawn into a tight line. “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.” Yet, he still follows relentlessly, floating to your left and to your side, eyes plastered onto your profile. “Oh, but can’t you offer me even half a day out of the kindness of thy own heart? Surely you must feel pity for a ghost like me that’s forced to wander this castle with no end. I will leave when my business is complete, that I can assure.” “Why don’t you go bother someone else?” “But you are special.” At that, your steps slow and he smiles again. “You know magic well and it reminds me of a certain someone.” “Who?” He hums and frowns. “I can’t seem to remember.” You scoff. After years of your business, of persuasion and deception, you can tell he’s not being entirely truthful. But before you can press on and coax the ghost’s true intentions out, there’s a noisy interruption. “Y/N!” Taehyung approaches with his mouth lopsided. “Who are you talking to?” You turn to your side, but the middle-aged ghost has vanished in thin air. “It was a ghost.” “What?” He looks at you as if you’ve gone crazy and maybe you have. “There aren’t ghosts here. Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” “I came to tell you that mom’s looking for you.” At your exaggerated sigh, Taehyung grins. “Trust me, it’s a lot worse than what you think.” He’s right. Your mother’s caught wind that a few youngsters are going boating and of course, she has to push her children into the private affair. You’re largely unamused, not a fan of being stuck in large bodies of water, even if it’s just a lake. “You have to go.” The moment she sharply enunciates the word, she pulls on the strings on your back laced bodice with all her might and you choke on air. “How else are you going to get married?” She doesn’t see you roll your eyes in the mirror. “My plan isn’t to get married.” “Well you never know what might happen. Keep an open mind.” Somehow, she thinks marriage will quell her troublesome daughters, especially you. But you can’t blame her for holding such an idea. At this point, she’s trying everything she can. “It’s time to be a little more ladylike after the whole tournament fiasco.” In the meanwhile, Lia is sitting in the corner, amused. She has a frilly, puffed up skirt of her own, a shade of light pink and on top of her head, a giant hat with flowers. She’s always been the prettier one. But as you turn to the mirror in your own blue summer dress your mother’s putting you in, you find that you aren’t half bad. Your mother knows you tend to get yourself dirty and that you don’t particularly enjoy being dressed up, so your attire is much less obnoxious and more subtle. It’s proof she’s thought about you. Eventually, your eyes drift off of your reflection to the flames dancing in the fireplace. You stare at the crimson light it gives, the way the subtle smoke that rises from it, curling towards the chimney. “There we are.” Your mother secures the last pins in your hair and smooths out your skirt. “Not too shabby, darling,” she says with a smile as if satisfied from her own work. You wonder what’s the point of trying. It’s not like anyone will be enamoured with you. The person who matters the most after all has already been taken. “You look absolutely beautiful this fine afternoon, Lady Y/N.” Your trance shatters and you look at the man blankly. “Jinha.” “Dare I say, you may be more lovely than you were last night!” He grins and you answer him in silence. You allow the noise of the surroundings to respond instead — the cawing of the birds, the sloshing of the water on the edge of the grass, your brothers laughing as the boats bump into the pier. The only mercy given to him is when Lia quite literally bumps into you and clears her throat loudly. “Ahem. Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met before.” The sorcerer’s smile widens. “Excuse me, but you are?” “I am Lia, Y/N’s older sister. But I’m not that much older. Only by two years. I’m turning twenty four.” You’ve never seen Lia flounder so much. It’s amusing to behold. “Oh, I knew Y/N had a sister, but I would’ve thought you were the younger sister,” Jinha says smoothly and her expression lights up even further. He takes her hand, placing a kiss upon her knuckles and you’re glad she’s taken his attention. Heaven knows you aren’t interested. But as you’re about to walk away, your line of sight falls to a familiar girl with dimples. Klarinda, the Duke’s daughter, is wearing a brimmed hat and her expensive silk skirt flutters with her. If she’s here then where’s— Yoongi’s staring right at you. As if he’s a predator and you’re merely the prey. Immediately, you return to Lia being overly flirtatious with Jinha. It’s bearable for a few minutes until you join your brothers who are horsing around and threatening to push one another into the lake. But out of the corner of your eye, you watch Yoongi and look away when your eyes meet. You know he’s watching you too. You try your best to stay focused on your surroundings. The strangers around were from different families and factions, civil with each other when they’re on the Duke’s grounds. At most, they send glares to their enemies. So you allow the polite, peaceful chatter to engulf you before everyone slowly gets onto the boats to row out and enjoy the lake. “Finally!” Taehyung suddenly twists around, holding a rope in hand. “I got it untied!” Jin facepalms himself. “You idiot! You’re supposed to untie the rope after everyone’s gotten in!” “What?” “Not to worry!” Jinha announces with a grin and nimbly hops inside the boat before it drifts too far off the pier. He holds out his hand for Lia and she gladly takes it with a giggle, being guided in. You watch at a loss for words as the boat gets farther and farther. Still, the divine sorcerer boldly holds out his hand for you. “Lady Y/N!” You hesitate. The boat is already full with four people and you’re not sure if it’s worth jumping in and potentially getting pulled into the lake. But suddenly, before you can make a decision, your waist is pulled back by strong arms. “It’s okay. She can come with me. There’s one left.” “Yoongi!” your gasp is sharp and you look up at him. But he remains unfazed. Your siblings have their brows raised. But by then, they’ve already drifted off and Taehyung wordlessly rows away. You don’t have time to react or object — not when Yoongi’s grabbed your hand and you stumble after him. The last rowboat rocks back and forth violently and you drop into a seated position on the seat before you can fall in. It takes three seconds. The rope is untied and Yoongi rows away from the pier. You notice his fiancée meters away in her own boat, sitting closely with girls chatting and giggling together. Yet, she pays no mind to her friends. Instead, she stares at the two of you. “Shouldn’t you be with her?” Yoongi follows your line of sight and mumbles, “It’s fine.” You’re stuck with him. Yoongi rows where no one else does and you watch the water cascade back. The soft sloshing fills the background as it gets quiet and much too uncomfortable. Yoongi’s husky timbre breaks the tension. “How have you been?” “Well, I’ve just been trapped in my house ever since I’ve returned, but things are great.” Your voice drips of venomous sarcasm, but when you lift your eyes, his gaze locks into yours. The blonde man wears a somber expression, his irises darkening and you sigh, speaking at a quieter volume. “I actually worked out a deal with my parents. As long as I behave and don’t tarnish my family name, I can do as I please. There’s more freedom than before. But it’s a work in progress full of compromise. If I want to leave, I’ll have to write a plan so they know where I’m headed. I just haven’t decided what I want to do next.” Your muttering gets quiet and your face hardens. “Obviously, you’re doing well.” Yoongi stops rowing. He allows the boat to drift. “The engagement was set up by my mother.” “Oh please, Yoongi.” Your eyes roll and you cross your arms, ready for his excuses that you knew were coming. “It was arranged. For all I know, I haven’t proposed to anyone yet.” “That doesn’t change that fact that you’re an engaged man!” Your teeth grit. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to go off with her and have a bunch of kids and a big family together, so congratu-fucking-lations.” It’s unbearable. There’s nowhere you can run. He’s truly trapped you here to confront one another. “And when were you planning to tell me? All those letters and you didn’t mention it once!” Your eyes sting painfully as your vision floods, overwhelmed with emotion. You feel blindsighted. “I thought I wouldn’t have to tell you at all. I was going to take care of it. I didn’t know you were going to be here.” “You really think it’s easy to call off an engagement with the Duke’s daughter?!” you spit and he takes your onslaught of anger. The pain is visible on your visage. “If I didn’t come, were you going to tell me when you got to the altar? Or after you got back from the honeymoon? I...I feel like an idiot.” “I’m sorry.” Staggering exhales pull from your lungs after your tangent and silence fills the large distance between the pair of you. Yet, Yoongi’s gaze is too tender for you to bear. “My biggest regret is not kissing you that night,” he murmurs. “Or rather, not asking you to come with me.” “It’s too late.” “It isn’t.” “What are you going to do, Yoongi?” “I’m going to call it off.” “How?” “I’ll try.” His voice is low, eyes half-lidded. “Then what?” you spit in exasperation. “What reason would you have to call it off? It’s a great arrangement! A beneficial marri—” “I want to marry you.” The inside of your chest stutters. Your breath catches in your throat. Warmth rises to your face and heats your cheeks like a furnace. Yoongi isn’t a straightforward man, blunt but never honest with his feelings. That trait has bred so many uncertainties within you. But in this moment, you feel his sincerity. You can see it, how hard he’s tried to reach you, to tell you his intentions. It reminds you of that night in Rutherglen. The festival and fireworks, when you were so close to one another, when you would’ve gone anywhere with him. “You’re an idiot, Min Yoongi.” You stand. “I don’t feel like talking to idiots.” You pull your orb from your pocket and cast shape water. The waves rise and it splashes him. Yoongi’s yellow hair is soaked along with the entire side of his head. His visage washes over into impassivity, akin to a glare. But you don’t dwell, palms laying flat in the air as you manipulate the water and push the boat back to shore. The minute you get to the pier, you pull yourself up. “I learnt more spells other than fire magic since our fight with the Remorhaz,” you add, “if you even remember that.” You know it’s unfair, but you rush away before he can discern how in a few words, he’s given you hope. The very hope that you know can easily break your heart again. // It’s been less than two full days, but it feels like an eternity. You’re slouched over an open arched window, elbow propped on the stone with your chin rested in your hand. The valleys of Pegan are out in the distance behind the fogged clouds, countless adventures and creatures out there for you to discover and explore. But you find yourself rooted in your place, a sense of uneasiness and yearning preventing you from leaving. At sounds of quacking, your eyes drift from the scenery to the first floor. By the staircase is a white duck with an orange beak trotting along with a row of pale yellow, baby ducklings behind her. They follow their mother religiously, teetering from side to side, trying not to get too curious of the world around them and a smile graces your lips. “Are ducklings your favourite animal, sorcerer?” Your spine straightens in shock and the wandering ghost, Leo, grins at you. Your hand presses to your chest as you steady your breath. “Are you trying to scare me to death?!” “Of course not! That would be defeating the purpose. I can’t borrow your body if you’re dead like I am,” he chortles, arms behind his back as he floats from your right side to your left. “I wanted to merely apologize for this morning. I didn’t mean to be so invasive or startle you.” You glare at him, not yet accepting his apology. He continues nonetheless— “Also, I want you to help me.” You snort unattractively, having known he had other purposes in approaching you again. “Unless you agree to my deal, the answer is no.” “Please,” Leo pleads. “I can’t move on.” You push yourself off the wall and walk away. He follows after you, even after you quicken your steps. “Why can’t you possess someone else’s body and watch your stupid sunrise?” “That is not my greatest desire.” The ghost comes in front of you and you halt in fear of him entering your body. “I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful to you, dear sorcerer.” Your brow lifts, waiting patiently and Leo swallows hard. “I await another lost soul and I wish to depart this world together with them. I can’t move on without them.” Your frustration makes your voice shrill. “It’s not only you who has problems, alright? I can’t even fix mine! What makes me think I can fix yours?!” As your annoyance boils over, you start running. It’s useless to try to elude a ghost who can’t get tired, but you try anyway. “Sorcerer!” And without looking, you turn the corner and collide with another body. “Woah!” Jin steadies you before the two of you can topple over. “Why are you not looking at where you’re going?” Lia is with him and regards you with wide eyes. “Are you okay?” You glance over your shoulder. The ghost never comes. “It’s nothing,” you mutter in a sigh. “Mom’s looking for you again.” “What is it this time?” The words come out in a tired exhale. Your older brother shrugs. “Might have to do with tonight’s dinner.” “Hey, Y/N.” Suddenly, Lia takes your hands. “Tell me honestly, do you like Jinha?” “No.” You warily eye her, not sure where she’s going with this. The corner of Jin’s mouth curls. “Why? You like him?” “Well, if she doesn’t like him, she should give him to me,” Lia mumbles, then quickly turns to you. “Of course, if you do, then by all means, our sisterhood is my top priority….” You pull your hand away from her. “I don’t like him, Lia. But he’s not mine to give away either. You can do whatever you want.” Your sister’s eyes twinkle with a kind of enthusiasm that makes you scoff with a smile. Jin’s mouth is quirked as well, but his curiosity has been piqued and he doesn’t hesitate to ask— “It’s because of him, isn’t it? He’s the reason you’re not interested. The youngest son of the Min faction. What was his name?” “Yoongi.” If possible, Lia’s features light up further and she steps forward, cornering you. “What happened on that boat ride, Y/N? It seemed like you were having a really intense talk.” “It was nothing,” you murmur. “He practically pulled you into the boat with him. I mean, did his fiancée mind?” In the midst of the interrogation, Jin shifts to you, eyes unwavering. “You started sending him letters the minute you got back, but now he’s engaged and he happens to pull you aside like that— What really happened on your adventure together?” Millpass, Bogsburrough, Rutherglen. The memories seep back into you. The fireworks and festival, the night at the roadside tavern, fighting together at the underground market. The way he rushed in front of you in the face of the white dragon, how the two of you sat on the hill and watched the sunset together. It’s overwhelming. “Who is he to you?” “I said nothing!” you lie and push past them, stomping in the other direction to get away from your overbearing siblings. “Hey!” Lia shouts after you. “Mom’s still calling you!” You ignore them, turning the corner then down the staircase lest the wandering ghost plagues you again or you run into Taehyung, your mother or father. For good measure, you depart outside without any direction but merely feeling the soft grass underneath your boots. You’re about to turn yourself invisible for a moment of peace or disguise yourself as a maid to escape, but with your unfortunate luck that’s been bestowed to you since you arrived, you run into dimples before you get the chance. A petite figure with spiral curls and an evening dress of modesty. Her brown eyes sparkle as your eyes lock with one another’s. With half a mind and all the etiquette training that had been slammed into you at childhood, you curtsy. “Hello.” “Good evening.” Klarinda smiles at you without a trace of malice. “What a coincidence meeting you here. I was about to head to my greenhouse.” “Yes.” You stiffly nod. “If you’ll excuse me…” But before you can march off, she twirls around. “Would you like to join me?” It’s an open space. The gardens seem to stretch on for miles, plant walls that border the perimeter. In the center of it all is a structure made of glass. The ceilings are high to let in sunlight and there are rows and benches of potted plants and flowers. “Some of these I grow simply because they’re beautiful. But a lot of these herbs have medicinal purposes.” “You’re a cleric, aren’t you, my lady?” “I am, like my mother. And you don’t have to address me by such formal titles. A friend of Yoongi’s is a friend of mine.” The girl smiles. “Klarinda is fine.” You nod and she quietly hums a song as she waters flowers. You follow after her until a particular plant catches your eye — verdant leafs, yellow petals and plump berries. “It’s a sunberry plant,” Klarinda says when she notices your curiosity. “Would you like to try one?” The Duke’s daughter happily plucks one off and holds it out in front of you. The second your teeth bites down, the sweetness explodes into your cheek. She giggles at your reaction. “Good, right? My dad likes to come in here and eat them when they’re in season, so they’re always gone.” “Good enough to sell. You should cast a protection or barrier spell on them.” “I should.” She grins, dimples dotted on both sides of her face. “But between you and me, I actually don't mind so much. It makes me happy that he enjoys something from my garden, even if he has to sneak in.” Most of your first impressions aren’t wrong. Within minutes of conversation, you can figure out if a customer is going to chase you down and try to fight you or might come back at a latter time to buy more. And you can tell her innocence isn’t a feigned facade. The Marquise is endearing enough that you like her for it. For a moment, you almost feel envious of Yoongi. But they’re undoubtedly a good match. A stoic, strong knight capable of shielding away a virtuous maiden who knows nothing of the world, but is kind and generous to a fault. It’s a portrait perfect couple. “This place is really beautiful.” You force yourself away from the thoughts that form a lump in your throat. “Thank you. It can get lonely though.” You hum, supposing a vast yet empty estate would do that to someone. “Don’t people from Pegan visit often?” “They do. They mostly arrive for business. I used to play with all kinds of children from the different factions, especially during holidays. But they can be……” “A bit much?” Klarinda laughs. “Yes! Some might say crazy or competitive, but much is a good word too.” You grin. “I’ve barely gotten to know how the factions work, but I can already tell. Some of them are so conceited.” Her eyes sparkle. “Like Jinha?” “Yes!” She giggles, her dimples creased deeper and her teeth shown in the light. Like this, she’s less of a proper and demure lady, niece to the king, and more like a girl you would’ve known on your travels. “He can be quite a gentleman, but he has an arrogant nature.” “My sister likes him, but I’m not sure why. Personally, I think she could do better. Then again, they wouldn't be bad together.” With the divine sorcerer’s willing-to-please nature and Lia’s incessant demands and high maintenance personality, it might work out better than intended. “I’m envious that you have so many siblings,” Klarinda says with a tender smile and you’re caught in surprise. You didn’t know it was possible she could be envious of you when you were envious of her in so many ways. “I’m an only child, so I’ve often wondered what it would’ve been like to have an older brother or younger sister. There’s nothing that beats family after all.” “You’re not missing out on much, trust me. Siblings can be quite annoying.” She laughs again. “Still, I think it would’ve been nice to belong to a bigger family.” A comfortable silence simmers as you follow after her and she moves to prune a plant. You break the quiet. “Actually, I was away from my family for quite a while. For a number of years.” “I thought you went adventuring for one year?” You shake your head. “They told everyone I went to go study arcane magic, but it isn’t true. I ran away and was gone for three.” Klarinda looks at you with a gentle expression, recognizing your solemnity. “What matters is that you’re here with them now.” You nod. “I don’t regret coming home. I’m glad I didn’t have to return when there was a funeral of my parents.” “Even if they’re overbearing?” she asks with a tiny smile. “Even if they’re overbearing,” you confirm. “You met Yoongi during your travels, right?” Immediately, you freeze, but she focuses on her plant, only stealing a simple glance at you. “He told me a lot about you from day one.” “Is that so?” “The engagement was a surprise to the both of us,” she murmurs, placing her shears down. “It happened less than a month ago. Suddenly my mother sat me down and told me about the arrangement. It was strange considering she had never spoken to me about it before and she’s never been one to make such an agreement. Anyway, a few minutes after I met Yoongi, he spoke about you. Rather fondly.” “Really?” You plaster on a polite smile. “Well, I’m flattered. He’s a great friend.” “Is he sincerely a friend to you?” Klarinda asks. Her gaze is piercing and you raise your guard. She’s going to threaten you — you know it. But you weren’t the one who made the decision and you don’t want any part of it. It doesn’t involve you. It never will. Having learnt from the best, your face becomes blank. “I am very happy that he’s finally engaged. He’s always been very popular, so settling down just seems right for him.” At once, the cleric grips her necklace. Against your will, she casts an enchantment spell and a fifteen foot radius sphere sweeps out from her. It keeps you inside. A zone of truth that prevents lies. “I’m sorry. But I need to know.” She looks at you solemnly. “Do you like Yoongi?” You cuss in Elvish underneath your breath. You can’t be deceptive, but you can still be evasive in your responses as long as it remains within the boundaries of the truth. “It’s not like I dislike him.” “Please be honest with me.” She searches your expression earnestly, pleading with you. Being with Yoongi has made you soft. You’re used to protecting your vulnerabilities until the end, but the truth spills from you as if it’s been dying to be said— “I’m in love with him.” The spell dissipates. Klarinda smiles. “Then I’ll call off the engagement.” “What?” “They can’t force me to do anything and I’d rather keep two great friends than having an unwilling husband for the rest of my life.” Her dimples crease. “I wouldn’t want that for him, myself or you.” “Wait! J-Just because I feel a certain way doesn’t mean he does or even that the engagement should be called off! This...this is something you should talk about with him, not me.” Her smile becomes sweeter. “Isn’t it obvious?” You blink at her. “Yoongi loves you too. What’s more that needs to be said?” The girl is so certain as if the answer has never been clearer. She’s a hopeless romantic. Utterly so. Someone who believes that love prevails above all and suddenly, you want to give into that urge as well. But before either of you can move, there’s a rumble beneath your feet. The ground itself tilts. Klarinda catches herself on the bench and you find your own balance. The pair of you tear your eyes away from one another to the roaring noise. The castle is shaking in its foundation. She notices the smoke that’s rising in the air. “Is...that fire?” Your eyes widen and you rush over, instincts screaming. The girl trails behind you and you pull yourself inside. There’s fire eating at the walls and you take your orb out, focusing your magic to snuff out the flames. To the best of your abilities, you extinguish it. Klarinda stays with you, using her own magic to try to aid you. “Sorcerer!” In the midst of the pandemonium, a familiar voice and form comes from the walls. Leo, the ghost, floats to your side. “I need your help. You must come with me. Please!” Klarinda’s eyes widen. But you don’t notice. “Don’t you see what’s going on?! I can’t help you!” The ghost vanishes. There is smoke filling the halls, flooding the corridors and you cover your mouth with the sleeve of your dress, coughing into it. Members from different factions are rushing past with their own weapons and shields, swords gripped or magic at their fingertips. There’s shouting above the chaos, but you don’t know what’s going on. Not until you enter the main room and find your mother and Taehyung. “Mom!” There’s a dracolich in the center of the circular room, towering high enough to graze the dome ceiling. It’s a monster — once a dragon until it became undead. Now what’s left of it is bones instead of flesh and blood, open eye sockets and decayed wings. But instead of being buried underneath the ground or burnt to ash, it’s come back to life, roaring and whipping its tail to a group of terrified, screaming wizards. There are several death knights as well. Decayed bodies with rotting flesh and pinpoints of light in place of eyes. They’re undead warriors who have revived, having once been rangers and barbarians until they fell. And one of them lunges at Taehyung until your mother casts finger of death, causing it searing pain and making it drop to its knees. Three rays of fire shoot past her, firing onto the death knight. She turns her head. “Y/N!” “Where’s Jin and Lia?” “They went to go find your father. He’s with the Duke!” Another death knight comes running forward with an axe and Taehyung screams before splashing a bubble of acid on it. A beat later, your mother’s grasp on her wand tightens and she sends a frigid beam of blue-white light streak on the monster. A coldness sweeps through the room and you follow up with casting firebolt. The monster has slowed down, barely staggering and obviously wounded. Yet, it tries to swing and misses Taehyung by a long shot. “Not bad,” you comment. “Hey, I’ve improved a lot since the last time you saw me fight!” A rectangular grin is plastered on Taehyung’s face. But the conversation is cut short by the dragonlich’s tail. He jumps away before he’s attacked and joins the other side where a paladin is fighting another monster. “Go!” Your mother shouts. “It’s too dangerous!” “I’m not leaving!” You don’t know where these undead creatures came from, how they even came alive again, or who revived them. There’s no time to think and in the midst of the anarchy, you’re trapped. Sheer seconds as you realize you’re about to be struck, but you’re unable to do anything. You merely brace for the impact. But the monster drops dead in front of you. Yoongi pulls his rapier out in one smooth tug, the silver blade slicing through the air. You gasp for air and he immediately engulfs you in an embrace. The man with the light blonde strands of hair holds you tight as your breath steadies and you savour his warmth. There are no words spoken, nothing that needs to be said that can’t be translated through his desperate yet affectionate gesture. “Sorcerer.” The moment can’t last long when you’re interrupted by the ghost. It floats to you and Yoongi is on guard, lifting the tip of his weapon. But you place a hand on his arm and he eases. “Listen to me.” You’re calm enough to finally pay attention, to hopefully be given answers. And answers are what he offers you. “There is a lich where the old castle resides. You must find the phylactery and destroy it before things become worse.” “A lich?!” Liches are among the worst creatures of humanity — undead spellcasters of great power. They’re creatures who traded in their souls for a chance to exist forever. There are untold treachery and blasphemies they’ve done just to become what they are. But they’re given immortality unless someone destroys their phylactery, an object that stores their life essences. Before you can ask any more questions, the ghost dissipates in thin air. Klarinda, who noticed the transparent form, runs to you. She grabs your hands and searches your expression. “What did the ghost say?!” “T-There’s a lich in the old castle!” “I know where that is!” The Dragonlich roars deafeningly as a warlock casts hold monster and it becomes paralyzed. At the same time, Yoongi pierces a death knight that was barreling towards you. You turn to your mother who gives a glance and she doesn’t even take a moment of hesitation. “Go!” She trusts your decisions — her gaze tells you that. Klarinda nods and Yoongi takes your hand. The two of you follow after her as she twists through the halls. “How did you come in contact with that ghost, Y/N?” “I don’t know. He was the one who approached me after the tournament and he’s been bothering me since yesterday.” Klarinda turns down the hall. “Do you know who that ghost is?” “He told me his name is Leo.” “He’s King Lionel,” she says and your brows raise. Yoongi doesn’t appear surprised either. He wears a solemn expression, having recognized him as well. “There was a section of his life in my history textbook of Pegan. This place used to be his castle.” You’re baffled, completely rendered speechless. She continues, “There was a rebellion a thousand years ago. This whole place burnt down, but it was rebuilt during my grandfather’s generation.” “Were there ever mentions of a lich? Or someone who traded their soul?” Yoongi shakes his head. “No.” “He never had a wife. But there were rumours that he had a mistress. A wizard from far away lands.” Your eyes meet Klarinda’s. “His kingdom was taken down before they could get married.” “But why now?” You’re running out of breath as she climbs a staircase. “If this...mistress traded in her soul a thousand years ago, why is she trying to revive dragons and knights now?” “It isn’t just now,” Klarinda murmurs, her brows drawn into a tight furrow and jaw clenched. “Members of the royal family in Pegan have gone missing for generations. They’ve always swept it under the carpet and kept it a secret, but I think I’m about to find out the reason.” The three of you turn another corner, but come to a grinding halt when you see a flailing lady. “Mother!” Duchess Jacquelyn is in the middle of the corridor, wearing a bountiful and extravagant gown while her arms are full of jewelry boxes, dangling strings of pearls and diamonds. One string slips from the pile and rolls on the cobblestone to your friend’s feet. “D-Darling! What a surprise! What’s going on? The noise has been startling me!” Klarinda steps forward. “What are you doing?” “T-This?! Nothing! I was just re-organizing! Yes. Reorganizing.” “That’s grandmother’s ring.” She points, eyes narrowed in. “You’ve never brought it out since her funeral.” “Well...sometimes change is needed, sweetheart.” They stare at one another while you exchange looks with Yoongi. There is a pregnant silence, tangible tension that’s suffocating. Then you notice how Duchess Jacquelyn slips her hand to her side and something glistens in your eyes, blinding your vision. Your mouth draws open. “You’re not my mother!” — “Watch out!” The dagger strikes her. Klarinda cries as the back of her right hand is sliced. Yet she grabs the opportunity and grips her necklace, her spellcasting object. The girl’s left hand comes out and she holds her mother’s double by the wrist, casting inflict wound. The creature screams horrifically in sheer agony. “What did you do to her?! Where is she?!” You grip your orb, casting scorching ray. One beam of fire hits it and it screeches. A moment later, Yoongi lifts his rapier and strikes it twice, causing the monster to stumble onto its back. Its weapon clacks out of reach. Klarinda grabs the dagger and holds the creature to the floor. She presses the blade to its throat. All traces of her kindness and mercy have dissipated in the face of her rage. “Where is she?!” “O-Okay! Okay! I surrender!” It puts up its hands and shifts. The form of the creature is no longer the beautiful, middle-aged Duchess but a tall, elven gray-skinned humanoid. Its face is formless and eyes are pale and bulging. Its voice croaks, “I’m a doppelganger! I didn’t have a choice! The lich made me do it!” “My mother!” Klarinda shrieks and you lower yourself, squeezing her shoulder and she eases. Tears have filled her eyes, but when she glances at you, she’s able to compose herself. “She’s dead. Her soul’s been consumed.” Klarinda breaks down into sobs. You wrap an arm around her and she lets up on the doppelganger, but Yoongi makes sure to keep his foot down on its shoulder. “We have to get it.” She wipes at her tears, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “We have to kill that lich, Y/N!” “We will,” you promise her. “We will.” Seconds later, you see Jinha come forward and he rushes over trying to get a grasp of the situation. “Can you take care of this?” you ask and he easily agrees. “O-Of course, lady Y/N.” He binds up the doppelganger and Klarinda casts cure wounds on herself, healing her gash. She takes your hand afterwards and you hold it. Yet, even as her frame shakes, there’s determination in her steps. A type of anger that has solidified her resolve and given her courage. “This is the passageway.” She pushes open a small stone door to reveal a crawl space after Yoongi helped push a bookshelf to the side in the corner of the library. “I found it as a kid, but I never went in too far. The servants found me and they tried to cover it up.” The three of you crawl through before it opens up and Yoongi helps you down onto the landing. There is consuming darkness until Klarinda casts light onto the dagger she has and you ignite a flame to dance into your hand. The empty void is collected with cobwebs, spiders and eyes of bats staring back at you, quietly observing your forms. Each of your steps echo and a cloud of dust emerges. You move slowly, scared that the steps of the staircase winding downwards will collapse under your weight. But you’re able to look around, at the crumbling paintings, the fragmented pillar pieces, the stone walls with scorched markings, and the ancient statues long lost and eaten by time itself. Never would you have guessed that the basement of the castle held all of this. That they had rebuilt themselves on top of what was once the castle of the entire kingdom of Pegan. You can imagine what this would’ve been like a thousand years ago. Children running with servants scolding them, advisors walking by King Lionel’s side, his lover waiting for him. Then you envision the screams, the devouring fire. You can see the charred marks along the banister. You can almost hear it, but you quickly shake it off before you can become frightened. “Destroying the phylactery is the only way we can get rid of the lich without it coming back, but how will we know where it is or what it is?” It could be any object in any room. You turn with the flickering fire in your palm, looking all around you. It’s endless. “If that monster is down here, there has to be a reason,” Yoongi offers, standing by your side. “It could’ve moved anywhere but it might be protecting its phylactery.” “I know where it is.” There’s a low voice and a familiar ghost descends in front of you with a saddened smile. “Your highness.” Klarinda bows her head. But you remain still, even after knowing his identity. King Lionel looks at you with his brows knitted together. “I am sorry for deceiving you, dear sorcerer. Or rather, holding the truth from you. I feared you would have denied my request had I been forthright about it. In hindsight, I could’ve prevented the devastation that has wrecked this place. Had I only known….” “Do you know where the lich is? Or where the phylactery is?” “It is in the last place where I perished.” The King smiles. “In our chambers.” He turns, floating away and Klarinda follows. You and Yoongi trail behind her and when you feel the back of his hand grazing against yours, you grasp it. Yoongi looks at you and you release your held sigh. “Why is it that we always find ourselves in adventures like these?” “You mean these life or death scenarios?” The corner of his mouth curls and he squeezes your hand. “We always manage. But you should’ve told me that you were talking to a ghost.” “I don’t think we were on speaking terms until recently, duckling.” Yoongi grins at the nostalgic nickname, the one you used to start each letter, and your own smile is tinged with sadness. You don’t know if either of you will live. If the pair of you have it in you to be an actual hero and defeat the greatest monster. And as these doubts fill you, so do the regrets that you harbour for not hearing him out, for not trusting in him. With such little time, you wonder if this is it. If this will be your last opportunity. Your steps slow. “Yoongi. I—” “How dare you enter my lair?!” There’s a snarling voice resounding above and instantly, the ghost of King Lionel vanishes. Klarinda turns behind her and looks at you and Yoongi. The hall has ended with a crumbling stone door in front of her. “Leave!” The voice shrieks deafeningly into multiple layers. “Leave!” You nod at her and she pushes the door open. The dust billows out, sweeping in front of your forms. The fire in your hand smothers and the strong gust of wind pulls through your hair. You can’t open your eyes, so you shield yourself away. Yoongi feels his grasp on you loosen. Your touch fades away from him. He shouts after you until his throat is raw, but it’s to no avail. He scrambles blindly until he’s able to open his eyes and finds himself in an empty void of darkness. “I know your greatest fear.” There’s a whisper in his ear and he jolts, turning around while drawing his rapier. But there’s nothing there, not even a shapeless figure. “Min Yoongi. I have read your thoughts.” “I have read your mind,” a second voice crackles to his left. The right snicker. “Your greatest fear is betrayal of your loved one.” “Whether that would be no longer sharing your affections.” “Or choosing another person to be with.” “Get out of my head,” he commands from deep within his stomach, his impassivity ruined by the furrow of his brows. But Yoongi feels a cold breath on the nape of his neck. “A lick of poison from her would destroy you for good.” Fire. You see it in front of you as you’re collapsed on the floor. The orange and rose glow are illuminated on your face. You’re sitting so close it seems to lick at your cheeks. Yet you’re brought into a lull as you listen to the crackle and pop, as you allow the smoke to fill your senses. You’re brought in a trance as you watch the fire burn a house down, a quaint home with a picket white fence and large windows with pink curtains. “Your greatest strength is your greatest fear.” There’s a murmur in your ear. It’s unrecognizable. “I know,” you mumble. “You are afraid of one day no longer being able to control the flames that seethes to be unleashed.” “But repress it no longer, dear,” the left voice seductively whispers, hissing softly. “Worry no longer.” “Your magic is incredible and oozes from you.” — “Give into it.” — “Allow it freedom.” “What….about...Yoongi?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from the fire into the darkness. You stand back on your feet, finding balance again. “No.” There’s a sharp inhale to your right. “Leave him.” You scoff automatically, the idea so utterly ridiculous that it’s unfathomable. “I’m not going to do that. I finally found someone that doesn’t find me annoying….” “You could be powerful.” The more it talks, the more you’re coming to your senses. “I already am powerful!” You twist around, dispelling away the hallucination of the burning house with the flicker of your hand. “And I already know how to control my powers! You think I’m some kind of amateur sorcerer?! It doesn’t control me. I control it!” Again, you ignite a fire in your hand and narrow your eyes. In the distance, you catch strands of pale yellow. And you run after him. The voices scream for you to stop, but you fight against the magic that threatens to pull you back. The moment you smother out the flame, you leap at Yoongi. Your arms are thrown around him in an embrace and immediately, his hands wrap around you. Yoongi stumbles back with an infectious smile expanding into his cheeks. The spell dissipates and you find yourself back in the underground remains of the ancient castle. “Don’t let go of my hand again, brat.” “I’m sorry,” you mumble against his neck. Suddenly, there’s a piercing scream that ricochets through the air — one belonging to only Klarinda. You pull away from Yoongi, eyes locked into one another and he sets you down. Your fingers interlace and you follow the sound, turning down the hall once more and entering through the large double-doors to the decaying chambers. A frame of a bed sits in the wide expanse of the room, grayed cloth ripped and drifting over the canopy. Ash and soot sits in a layer on the floorboards, the wardrobe and vanity along the back wall destroyed. There’s a large painting on the wall, but the faces of the couple have been torn and scratched by bleeding fingernails. Your eyes sweep the room within seconds before landing on Klarinda who’s been blighted. She’s fallen over and you come to cover her with your body as you look upon the lich. It’s angular and skeletal with withering flesh stretched tightly across visible bones, dressed in regal finery, reddened drapes that once was vibrant. Yoongi’s knuckles turn white at his grip and he runs towards the creature. He misses, but hits on his second try, slashing it across. He surges forward, yet it does little to the lich that still stands. “Foolish children,” she hisses and grips the blade of Yoongi’s rapier, rendering him immobile. “You aren’t heroes. Your recklessness will bring forth your death. I will not spare you from the choices you have made.” You cast immolation and flames wreathe the lich. She lets go of Yoongi’s weapon and the light of your magic is so bright that you’re forced to look away. At the same time, Klarinda cures her wounds and slowly comes to her feet again. “Do you really think you could defeat me?!” The lich’s snarling voice booms across the room. Pinpoints of crimson light burn in the empty sockets of where her eyes were before they rotted away. She glides forward as if floating on water and a sphere of poisonous gas billows to all corners of the room. “Yoongi!” You cover your mouth with your hand and the yellow-green fog obscures your view. You hear the clanking of metal where he hits the lich and you feel your vision blurring from the poison. But as you narrow your eyes, you’re able to make out the faint shadow of the lich’s form. And a thin green ray springs from your pointing finger in the spell disintegrate, allowing you to hear it’s deafening shriek. You give permission for your phoenix magic to unleash and you’re magically twined in swirling fire, eyes glowing as hot coals. Your flesh sheds bright light into the fog. Behind you, Klarinda murmurs words of restoration and you feel yourself being healed from the poison. The lich is toying with you. You know it. The moment you stepped into here, it could’ve immediately killed any of you with a single word, but instead, it chose to manifest those hallucinations and slowly suffocate the three of you in this poison. The lich glides towards you, but is stopped by Yoongi. Before you can pull him out of the way, she lifts her finger, and he drops to his knees. He screams from the sheer agony that courses up his body. “Yoongi!” The lich casts detect thoughts on him, probing his brain, tearing apart bits and pieces of it. It hums and muses, “How selfless yet foolish. Even in this much pain, you are still thinking about how much you love her.” Yoongi grits his teeth, bumbling upwards to his feet and strikes the monster thrice. The force is enough that she staggers back and tense silence fills the air. You steal the opportunity and come forward next to Yoongi. Your palms press towards the monster to cast fireball, but the roar of the flames never comes. The lich has counterspelled it. Klarinda cries and runs forward with her dagger. “You killed my mother!” “And her soul was delicious to consume,” she snarls and grabs her blade, tossing it aside as if it were a toy. “Yours will be too!” Klarinda sobs as something catches the corner eye. But there’s no chance — not when the lich takes your spell of choice and magic blooms out of her thin fingertips. Fire blossoms from her flesh, thundering out in the force of her rage. You immediately turn to hug Yoongi, arms embracing his body to protect him. But when his hands reach to the back of your neck and he presses your face to his shoulder, you’re not sure who’s protecting who. Yet, the fire never reaches you. Even when it rumbles through the room and the ruins of the ancient castle. Even when the walls begin to crack further and fragments of the ceiling dust down. Even when scorching flames has filled every corner of the space. You raise your head, finding that the ghost of King Lionel is facing the lich. One of his last fragments of magic has been channeled into an aura of life spell, shielding the three of you away. “Enough, Karlis,” he calls out to her softly. “You have done enough harm.” “I thought I banished you!” she snarls out, crouched over as the pinpoints of red lights of her eyes glare at him. “I won’t leave without you.” “Why?!” The voice is jarring to your ears. “The girl you knew is long gone!” Neither of them notice Klarinda who staggers upwards towards the vanity in the corner, struggling to grab her dagger along the way. “Even so, I won’t leave her behind again. I won’t leave you behind. So come with me, Karlis. Leave your anger behind and come with me.” His arm outstretched but the monster cackles horrifically. “Foolish, man! I will not stop until I have destroyed the bloodline that ruined us.” “No one ruined us. It was I who ruled poorly, and you who chose to give up your soul and walk down this path by your lonesome in the wake of your grief. Karlis.” “Never!” she screeches and a gust of wind pushes him away. Then the lich screeches in torment. Klarinda digs the dagger’s blade into the heart shaped necklace on the vanity — the phylactery that holds the life force of the lich. She plunges the weapon several times until her arm strains, until the dagger’s curved against the vanity’s surface, until it slips from her trembling hand and she tosses it aside in the midst of tears. The lich’s bones collide against the floor. Her screams are audible around the room and the red clothing flutters in the air as it drops. You look away with Yoongi, but King Lionel gazes at her until the last moment. Gone. After centuries of terrorizing Pegan’s royal family, just like that. // The sunbeams pierce the sky in pastel shades, painting the clouds in watercolour hues. It breaks away the darkness of the night and the stars of the horizon. Klarinda is silent as she looks onward from the open arched window with her arms behind her back. But you know it’s not her. She’s been possessed by King Lionel, having granted his wish and allowed him to borrow her body. “My last duties as a King have been complete,” he murmurs in her voice. “My business is finished now that I know she hasn’t been left behind.” He turns to you and Yoongi with a dimpled smile. “Thank you. Sorcerer. Knight. Without your help, I wouldn’t have been able to free her from her own treachery.” “It’s not like you gave us much of a choice,” you mumble half-heartedly and he chuckles. “I guess I didn’t. I’m also sorry I’m not able to give you gold or any semblance of a reward when you have bestowed to me such a great favour.” “Having our lives is enough,” Yoongi says, bowing his head and you scoff lightly. The ghosts’ eyes twinkle as he looks at him and then to you. “You really do remind me of her,” he says. “But more strong-willed and self-assured. Something she had greatly missed and led her to her demise.” A sigh releases from him. “The world is blessed to have such great heroes.” The pair of you exchange expressions. “I’m not so sure about that….” You still don’t feel like heroes — he was the one who protected you and Klarinda was the one who destroyed the phylactery. Both you and Yoongi barely did anything other than waltz in there without a plan. In retrospect, that was probably a bad idea but there wasn’t really enough time to figure out battle tactics. Or at least that’s the excuse you’re going to hang onto. The ghost gives an all-knowing smile and turns to the horizon. “My time is here. Thank you for your help, heroes.” Within three seconds, he dissipated from her. Klarinda stumbles and is steadied by Yoongi. She smiles, thanking him before gazing at the pair of you. Two dimples are marked in each corner of her cheeks.

The chaos has come and gone. The moment the lich’s life source was destroyed, the monsters no longer swarmed and spawned on the grounds. The place is no longer haunted either. It’s finally what it looks like — simply, a castle. You came here to find the truth and to confront Yoongi — you never expected to encounter a ghost and a lich. It’s a wonder how it’s possible trouble can find you in so many ways no matter where you go. “Aren’t you cold?” A husky voice pipes up behind you and you’re brought out of your trance. Pale yellow hair joins your side, reminding you of ducklings. It’s still dawn, but you’re at the bottom steps of the garden's gazebo instead of seeking refuge on a soft bed. It was the only way you could get some peace and quiet from your siblings. “I’m never cold.” You turn to him, a fire flickering in your palm. Yoongi tenderly smiles. “How did speaking to Duke Fesan go?” “He’s bedridden, but he’ll make it. He wasn't too badly injured. But he’s grieving with his daughter.” You nod. “And your mother and father?” “They’re fine. A little shocked, but they’re using the opportunity to boast about me. A lot.” A laugh bubbles out of you. “Well, it’s not like they have no reason to. You’re amazing, Yoongi,” you breathe it out with a second thought, as if it were factual and you don’t notice his gaze on you. “How about your own family?” “They’re fine. My sister’s well enough to flirt with Jinha and my brothers are bickering loud enough to give my mom a headache,” you say and he hums. “But we’re leaving in a few hours. They already called the carriage for the afternoon.” “You’re heading back home?” You nod wordlessly. The tension is suffocating. You decide to break it, turning to him while masking a smile. “How was breaking the...other news to the Duke?” “Easier than one would expect. Klarinda asked to call off the wedding and the Duke said it was the doppelganger’s arrangement anyway. It was trying to amass as much wealth for itself as it could.” “That’s good.” “It is.” “Get that sorted and out of the way.” You steal a glance at Yoongi pathetically to find he has an impassive expression and is blankly looking onward. After a moment, he yawns tiredly and then his eyes flicker to you. Instantly, you divert your vision elsewhere, not noticing his smile. “You know,” he says, “the Duke thought it would be unfair to me. Even though it’s going to be called off, everyone already knows about the arrangement. It might be an opportunity for gossip to be made towards the Min faction.” “And what did you say?” “I said that I already had someone else in mind from the start.” Your eyes meet. Pools of deep brown locked into yours. Strands of his blonde hair nearly pricking into his lashes. And it’s an intimate moment as your voice quiets. “Did you really mean what you said on that boat ride. About regretting not asking me to come with you?” The man exhales, “Every day.” “A wedding with me would be awful,” you murmur, barely coherent. You feel how warmth rises to your face and heats your cheeks like a furnace, and for once, it’s not because of the magical fire inside your blood. “My mom would have to have a whole show and if you thought having three siblings was a lot, wait until you meet my cousins and extended family. They multiplied like damn rabbits.” Yoongi tries to put on a stoic face but fails. His grin is all too gummy. “I don’t mind. You haven’t met my brother yet, but he’s just as overbearing. And if anything, my mother would be ecstatic. She loves noble titles, so she’d hit it off with your mother.” “I still want that great big house.” “I would like one too.” “If you haven’t noticed, I really like my food burnt to a crisp like a fiend.” “I don’t mind.” He shrugs. “I always liked my meat especially cooked anyways.” “I’m a con artis—” “No matter what you say, I won’t change my mind, Y/N.” Yoongi’s brow cocks, challenging you straight on, albeit more gingerly than you’ve ever witnessed. “Your persuasions won’t work.” “Yoongi…” “You still owe me that refund.” What? He grins mischievously and you roll your eyes, having no idea why he’s bringing this up and ruining the moment. “Are you serious?” “Very. You scammed me over a year ago and I expect a full repayment. Also, I happen to collect interest. It’s a hefty, hefty interest fee.” “Okay.” You play along. “What do I owe you now?” You’re not sure what to expect. You’re never sure when it comes to him considering he’s so hard to read. But your breath hitches as he lowers himself to one knee and looks up at you with his tender features relaxed into the softest expression. He pulls something out of his pocket. “Nothing. It’ll be me who will owe you, if you would so graciously choose to spend your life with me—” You throw your arms around Yoongi. The both of you collapse onto the soft bed of grass and you giggle infectiously, pulling yourself up from him. “You’re an idiot, you know that? I really thought that for the rest of your life, you were just going to send me letters.” Yoongi grins a gummy smile. His arms wrap around your body and he reaches up to finally capture your lips on his. The two of you kiss each other, making up for the moments where you should’ve done it sooner. It’s sweet, but less than innocent with how eager it is. You only manage to pull away when out of the corner of your eye, you catch curtains shifting from upstairs. “Nosy, aren’t they,” Yoongi laughs. At the left window, your family is crowding around. Taehyung and Lia are shoving each other to get a look, Seokjin has his palms pressed against the glass, your father is grinning while your mother is absolutely astounded. At the right, both of Yoongi’s parents are peeking out owlishly. You see different members of the faction watching in both horror and confusion, having not yet heard of the news that the engagement is broken and assuming that they’re catching him in the midst of a scandal. But more importantly, you see Klarinda smiling infectiously at the top of the tower with her dad coming to look too. “Exciting, isn’t it?” Yoongi teases, “With so many guests watching.” “Is it so hard to get some damn privacy? This is why I prefer being on the move,” you whine and cast invisibility on the both of you. Yoongi laughs, closing the distance to kiss you again.

[Epilogue] “What if this is a trap.” “Then we’ll grab our weapons. But I don’t think it is.” There’s a house in the middle of the peaceful suburbs, placed in the middle of the street in a row of other homes. Built with bricks covered in render and an oak roof with a chimney on the side, it stands tall in a fairly asymmetrical pattern. The windows are large and it looks like the structure has two floors. More importantly, they swear they see the curtains shift on the left side. The two young adventurers step up on the wooden porch, facing the oak double doors. “Do we just….knock?” “I guess.” His fist raps against the surface while she braces herself for an attack. The door swings open. She hitches her breath, but an onslaught of offensive spells never happens. Instead, they see you. In a simple, brown dress and your hair braided in an updo with loose strands framing your full features. Your eyes glisten, giving a smile and the door widens. “Good afternoon! You children look so tired! Come in, come in!” The pair of them exchange expressions before stepping inside. The interior instantly takes their breath — cozy maple and fresh flowers at the entrance way, mementos on a shelf near the open staircase with a magical pull to them. It’s clear that the owners of this house have made it their own. They can tell each object carries its own meaning and memory, not merely for decoration or the purpose of luxury. “My name is Y/N,” you announce, with a light twinkle in your irises. “And I am a servant girl to the lord and lady of the house. May I ask who has entered the home?” “I-I am Park Jimin. It’s said that there’s a great and powerful sorcerer who lives here and a dark knight who’s been to Shadowfell.” “They’ve defeated dragons and liches before,” the girl beside him adds, brows furrowed as she regards you with a healthy amount of suspicion. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m afraid they’re not here at the moment. They went out to do some bidding, so you might have to wait a few hours until they return,” you inform and the two of them look at one another. “Can I ask for what reason you’re searching for them?” “We have received a prophecy and were sent by Mirla Nistar.” Jimin steps forward. “When lightning strikes twice, a man of darkness shall usher forth a country's doom and the end of wealth. We have reason to suspect that this man is the demon lord, Abraxas, who is trying to rise from Shadowfell.” You hum. “Alright. I’ll let them know as soon as they get back. Would any of you care for tea? I have the best honey and sugar available!” But suddenly, the dimpled boy feels a heavy weight on his mind. It’s a presence pressing on his brain, probing deep and whispering around the caverns of his skull for permission to be let inside. He grips his temples with a groan and his partner turns to him. “Jimin?” He looks off at you and she follows his line of sight. Before she can ask you what you just did, you slip something out of your pocket. In one split second— “Potion?” You hold up the stoppered bottle with the milky liquid sloshing inside. “You have a headache, don’t you? I know it when I see it! Must be from your long travels! Nothing like a rejuvenating potion to feel better.” “I..I’m alright.” Jimin lowers his hand. “Nonsense. You don’t want to miss this chance!” you emphasize. “I bet it wouldn’t even cost you a dime. You’re probably going to spend the same amount on some food or a place to stay at, so why not fork out some now? And it might be helpful for any upcoming adventures or expeditions!” “How much?” the skeptical girl slowly asks and you know you have it in the bag. “Ten gold pieces.” Your eyes glimmer. She digs into her satchel. But then— “What’s with the ruckus?” A rounded face and sleepy features lug down the stairs. He runs a hand through his baby yellow hair shagging in front of his forehead, having just woken up from a long nap. “Who are these people?” “They’re adventurers trying to defeat some demon punk—” “Demon lord,” the boy tries to correct. “—who’s apparently coming back to wreak havoc and steal children.” “Close enough,” he sighs. Yoongi makes a noise of acknowledgment, his expression impassive. Then his eyes dart at them and the potion in your hand. He points. “Are you trying to sell them that?” The corner of your mouth curls. “Maybe.” “Poor folks,” he exhales, utterly ruining your business transaction and not remorseful at all for it. “You’re going to get us into trouble one day.” You scoff. “When haven’t I gotten us into trouble. It’s not new news now.” Your husband grins and comes to sling an arm around your shoulder. He kisses you shamelessly in front of the two strangers, yet it’s a soft and tender gesture. It makes you smile against him. Suddenly, the door shuts behind them and the surrounding warm candlelight ignites. It billows a dim luminescence into the warm home that you’ve both made your own, glowing against the numerous mementos on the shelf that display the many years of your travels and journeys. Yoongi hugs you to his side and you quirk your head onto his shoulder with a sly smile. The adventurers finally come to recognize who the people in front of them are. And the pair of you turn to them. “What was it that you needed again?”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi adventure #bts adventure #yoongi as the stoic knight #and OC as the angry phoenix sorcerer lol #FINALLY AN END TO THE SERIES :D #hope you guys enjoy it #this is gonna be one of those ones that you're gonna need to read the original before the sequel lol #i think it's a hard one to understand without reading the one before

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