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hanahaki-disease · 2 years

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Havent I Given Enough?

Hermit! Tommy Hermitcraft x DSMP Crossover fic

Chapter 5 | Just Know That If You Hide, It Doesn't Go Away

Summary: Tommy always believed that events happen for a reason: a tree falling, a light fading, a shadow growing. It always happened for a reason

Word Count: 4425

Notes: Song Title comes from "Little Dark Age" by MGMT

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The last place the Hermit took their guest was the shopping district.

With the sun setting over the horizon, it was the perfect time for the young blond to roam and explore the bustling section of the server. Bdubs was off-world for the next few days which meant that nights could befall the hermits. Under the darkness of night, Tommy was able to freely walk around the deepslate roads. Most of the hermits were away at their base or their farms, wanting to see how night and mob spawns affected the rates and stuff, meaning that the shopping district was mostly empty.

Though the beacon street lamps provided light along the main shopping district road, the lights from the other shops were more than enough. When Tommy walked out of the nether portal, he stopped and stared at the buildings. “Woah.”

“This is the shopping district,” Iskall announces. “Here we trade our extra products or services with each other.” Tommy stared in wonder at the buildings around him. The first one that caught his attention was the brightly lit area to the left, the tall white building was like a beacon on that side of the area. Glowstone illuminated the name of the shop and made a ring of light onto the other shops around it where Tommy could faintly read the name “Depot” on the one facing them. “Where do you want to go first?”

“What’s in that one?” Tommy pointed to the Green’s shop.

Looking to where Tommy pointed, Iskall answered, “That’s Cub’s Greens shop, he sells all the different kinds of green things. Leaves, plants, lichen, stuff like that.” Between the floors there was movement. Someone was in the shop, in their hands looked to be a shulker, but upon closer inspection, Iskall saw the lab-coated redstone madman that was Cubfan. He seemed oblivious to the two. With his back to them and his focus on his task of restocking his shop, Iskall quickly led the blond teen in the opposite direction.

“Let’s go check out these shops, hm? I think Joe has a shop that launches squids in the air.” Tommy’s face lit up in amusement, stars seemed to shine in his blue eyes as he let Iskall whisk him away before he rambled on. Iskall couldn’t pay attention to what he was saying, too concerned with Iskall finding out about Tommy. But he hopes walking around the packed boulevard Bdubs was building shielded them from any curious eyes that seemed to spot them.

–

Cub dusted off the spore blossom particles from his hands, green streaks marred his pristine white coat, but the hermit didn’t seem to mind. Normally he would restock his shop during the day, wanting to minimize the chances of any hostile mob attack; yet with Total Choas nearing its completion, Cub had spent his time pushing through and finishing it that afternoon The pumpkin and restone monstrosity had been his hyper fixation since the beginning of the season and he was glad to say it’s ready, but back to the matter at hand.

After a long nap in the cool snow of Total Chaos, Cub grabbed his restock shulker boxes and made his way to the shopping district. Impulse and a few other hermits had bought him out of most of his greens that week. So instead of procrastinating the task of restocking, Cub decided to do it before he forgot (or passed out, one of the two.) Smirking, Cub closed the lid of the spore blossom barrel, having that product be the last of the restock, and yawned. He was ready to return to his base and sleep.

Usually, the shopping district was silent at this time of night–save for the occasional zombie groan or skeleton rattle–so when Cub fan heard Iskall’s voice, he walked to the edge of his multilevel shop and searched for his friend.

It wasn’t that hard to spot him, the bright lime–iskallium–green of his shirt and the faint glow of his cybernetic eye was like a beacon in the night. Cub was about to call out to him when he noticed the boy next to him. It was times like this Cub was grateful for the OptiFine binoculars. The kid was tall, Cub noticed when he stood next to Iskall. (But Iskall was on the lower side of average, Cub noted. At least compared to the hermits.) This kid, however, seemed to tower over him with long lanky arms and legs that he was still getting used to controlling. A red shirt hung loosely on his tall frame as he bounced around the shops with amazement.

Who is that? Cub thought. New players had always been announced at the beginning of the season and emergency meetings were held on the rare occasions of them entering mid to late seasons, like Bdubs, Keralis, and Doc in season 6. And all players were announced in the world chat, but as Cub searched through his communicator, there was no sign or message of a new player. No one had even mentioned anything of a new person, which left Cub with two conclusions: one, the kid had entered on a day cub wasn’t on the server, and though those days were few and far between, there was one day where he had spent the whole day in the world hub.. Or two, the kid had glitched into Hermitcraft and has been hidden from the server by Iskall.

Cub hoped it was the former.

Glitched players could cause devastating effects on player codes and servers. They corrupted players to their very source and servers withered away without warning, destroying people in its path, and leaving nothing in its wake. Cub was lucky to be alive, having been one of the very few to have escaped a glitched server and researched it during his time with the Vex. The screams of terror and the prayers for help still rang in his ears from that day, and Cub will be damned if he let a glitch corrupt his home and the hermits.

With a silent bang, Cub flew off his shop, the cool night air ruffling his hair as he retreated to his base. Plans of action sprouted in his mind, hoping he can convince other hermits about what he saw. The first person on his list: Welsknight.

–

When Tommy woke up, panic rose in his chest. Stone surrounded him like dread, it weighed him down and speed up his heart and all Tommy could think of was Pogtopia. Endless halls and the repeating stone had nearly driven him mad, not to mention his on the verge of madness brother. The fights, the shouts, and the stress clouded his head and prevented him from thinking straight during those days that now feel like a daze. He remembers what had happened, but it was like he was not there. It was as if he was on the outside looking in. He could see himself, staring at nothing as Wilbur spoke of war.

Yet, as he sat on the bed, tangled in the bright green sheets that reminded him of someone surrounded by stone, Tommy couldn’t do anything to stop his lungs from grasping for air.

“Tommy?”

He looked up. A bright green light blinded him from seeing the man’s face, but the green on his shirt and the way the man stood left only one person in his mind. Dream.

Tommy pushed the outreaching hand away in fear and tried to scoot away from his captor, wanting to distance himself from the punishment that was sure to come for being insubordinate, forgetting that the bed would have to end at some point. Pain shot through his lower back and ass as he fell on the cold stone floor, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. Tommy crawled backward as the figure–Dream–stepped forwards.

“Stop being so difficult, Tommy!”

His breath quickened with each step of the figure. Memories rushed to the forefront of his mind, blinding him like the light covering the man’s face. Each footfall was another flash in his head. Step. Exile. Step. Logstedshire. Step. Pit. Step. Dream. Step. Isolation.

“This is why Tubbo exiled you! You never listen!”

Cold stone touched his back and arms, pulling a gasp from his mouth. Cornered, Tommy looked around for an escape as the figure stepped closer. They spoke his name, but Tommy could hear nothing other than Dream’s voice, his anger and rage that focused solely on the blond for reasons he didn’t know sometimes. When a pair of hands grabbed onto his shoulder, Tommy screamed in fear. His scar-covered and still scratched hands tried to pry the enemy off of him.

“-ommy! Tommy!” The figure called and finally, the light dimmed as their hands tightened their grip on him. Before him, Tommy saw Iskall, his face contorted with worry as he kneeled before him. “Tommy, can you hear me? You need to breathe. Focus.”

Angrily, Tommy pushed Iskall off him, not wanting the hermit’s hands on him anymore. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his head in the empty gap between his legs and chest, hands reaching over his curls and shielding any light trying to peek through. His chest still heaved as he screwed his eyes shut. Memories of those days haunted him as he cowered in the cave.

“Iskall! Where is he? Is he okay?” He heard Stress call out.

“Over here Stress.”

“What’d you do to him? He’s shaking!” Stress yelled and the sound of fabric rustling caught his ear. It was a lifeline, an exit from his mind, and he focused on it as Stress dragged it along the cave's stone floor. He didn’t hear their voices only the sound of the blanket and the snap of one of its covers as Stress shook off the dirt that collected on it. “Love?” Stress draped it over him. “You alright? What’s wrong?”

Tommy couldn’t remember a time when someone asked him if he was alright. It was always the other way around. Him asking others. So a simple gesture like that shouldn’t have impacted him as much as it did, and yet, Tommy unraveled himself from the cocoon of his limbs and latched around Stress. The warmth of her embrace, gentle pats, and comforting back rubs, made him feel like it was his mother’s hugs. The ones he would fall asleep in, the ones that made him feel protected, loved, and safe. “It’s alright love, let it out.” And then the dam broke.

He didn’t know how long he had cried on Stress’s shoulder but the ache in his back and knees gave him clues that it had been a while. But when he finished, when his eyes were sufficiently red and puffy, and his chest hiccuped as it tried to regain a breathing pattern, Stress gave him a sad smile. She ruffled his hair–which was still his bedhead, tufts sticking out in every direction–and placed a hand on his cheek.

“Feeling better?” Stress asked and Tommy nodded, it felt like a small weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Good.” She placed a motherly kiss on his forehead and helped him up, and despite Tommy towering over the small woman, it didn’t stop her from adjusting the blanket to wrap tighter around his shoulders and ensuring he wasn’t injured. “Now, let’s go have some tea and breakfast, and then we can go talk with Xisuma, okay?”

The small woman carefully lead the teen to the makeshift table made of spruce trapdoors bottled closed and two upside-down stairs, it wasn’t much but Tommy knew it was far better than anything on the Dream SMP. At least when it came to the furniture around him. He was sure that places like Las Nevadas or Eret’s castle would have luxury items or at least nice-looking items. But for as much as he loved L’Manburg, there could be some things said about the homes and things that reside in its walls. Hell, Iskall’s cave base was better than most things in his previous server.

Tommy decided not to dwell on the Dream SMP. There was nothing he could do about the events of the past, and while he was a significant player in most if not all server-wide wars and mishaps, Tommy felt as if he was never given a choice for his actions. It was either “do this or die.” Those were his choices. Fight for L’Manburg or die in the war. Fight for Pogtopia or die. Fight with Tubbo or die.

Never once was Tommy able to take a step back and stay on the sidelines. Never able to become an outsider looking in because he was always dragged into the fray, his own opinions and beliefs cast aside and new ones shoved down his throat. He was always told what to do, what path to take, and what his life was to become on that server.

The only thing Tommy could think of that could be considered his choice was the Church Prime, something he and Dream built together. And yet, Tommy had found himself praying in the building during the wars, during the battles; praying for some cosmic entity to whisk him away or to stop the pain and suffering that plagued the server. To him, to Tommy, who from a young age was surrounded by death and destruction, it was a reprieve. A way to block out the world. Tommy held on to that during his time in Logstedshire, building a small shrine with a singular oak log. It wasn’t much but it was something Tommy could ground himself with.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Tommy finally spoke, the mug in his hands now lukewarm but still full of whatever tea Stress served. “Can I build something here? It won't be big or as grand as whatever you guys make, but can I?”

“Of course, love! I’ll let you use some of my resources and I’m sure Iskall won't mind if you use his too,” Stress smiled.

“What won't I mind?” The two turned to the swede, in his hands was the bucket of eggs Stress asked him to get.

“To use your resources,” She said. “Tommy wants to build something.”

“Sure! Take what you need!” Nodding his head, Tommy silently watched as Stress and Iskall made breakfast.

–

With a shulker box of more than enough resources, Tommy and Stress walked around the base of the mountain looking for a good spot to build. To be honest, Tommy didn’t have a plan for what he wanted to build, just wanted a moment for himself by himself. He needed the silence.

“Here,” Tommy stopped at an alcove in the mountainside. It was small, no more than five blocks tall and three wide, but the tunnel stretched deeper inside. “I’ll build here.”

“You sure? It’s kinda small,” Stress lit a torch and walked inside the tiny cave. “But if it’s what you want, I won’t stop you.” Turning around, she looked at the teen. “You got a pickaxe? And a sword? Torches?”

“Yup,” He placed the shulker outside the mouth of the alcove, pulling out the tools and materials.

“Alright, if you need more materials don’t be afraid to ask, okay?” With that, Stress walked back down the path they traveled, leaving Tommy alone.

Tommy placed torches as he walked the length of the cave, wondering how far it went. When it finally ended, the entrance was only twenty blocks behind him and it opened up to a decent-sized room. It was private. Secluded. And most importantly–silent. It was then Tommy got the idea to build a shrine for Church Prime. He could see it now. A statue against the far wall with torches at the base, lighting up the room and pulling the attention to the center. In the corners Tommy could see two fountains, pouring holy water into natural basins beneath them, illuminated by glowstone.

With determination, Tommy got to work.

He didn’t how long he had been working. His arms were caked in dirt and stone, sweat dripped from his hairline, and the new clothes he had received became filthy. He knew that during his solitude of building Stress and Iskall popped in to see how he was faring. When Stress came, she had brought him lunch and another shulker of materials, this one filled with pants and greenery, something Tommy wanted to add to the cave but didn’t have the materials for. She introduced him to moss and spore blossoms and–the most interesting plant Tommy believed–glow lichen. This spurred Tommy further into a build haze from all the new items and blocks he didn’t know existed. Iskall was the one to give him candles. He showed Tommy how they could clump together and create a softer light, opposing the harsh brightness of the torches.

The hours seemed to whiz by because it was late when Tommy had finished. The room around him didn’t feel as imposing as it had when he first began, it wasn’t hollow and void of life. And now, as Tommy sat on one of the spruce benches, facing the small monument he built, Tommy could say he felt peace.

“Dear Mumza,” Tommy began. Though the shrine was meant for Church Prime, Tommy used it as a way to talk to Kristen–Philza’s wife and temporary mother when he sought refuge from his first server. He doesn’t remember much of Mumza, only meeting her in the short moment between respawns, but that doesn’t deter him from talking to her. “I don’t know if you’re the one who brought me to Hermitcraft, or if you asked another goddess or something, but thank you. They don’t me there aren’t any canon lives which I think is bullshit. How can a world have infinite lives? Makes no sense. Anyway, I hope I can see you again soon, maybe whenever I join you for reals, you can show me, my mother, if she’s with you that is.”

A breath left his mouth as he finished his one-sided conversation, he hopes his mother isn’t dead. It’d be a damn shame if she was, however, this wasn’t the time to mourn the possibility of a dead parent.

Tommy stood up from his spot on the bench and kneeled in front of the statue. It wasn’t grand or impressive, just quarts in the shape of some sort of angel with candles surrounding the base, but it was enough for Tommy. Prime knows it's better than the original church Tommy built. With a sigh of contentment, Tommy closed his eyes and prayed, “Church Prime, thank you for the subs and donations. Thank you for letting me know there is light at the end of the dark age for it was your guidance and mercy that I am saved.

“Church Prime, thank you for the subs. I know that you were the ones who bought me to the hermits, and though I don’t really know them yet, I trust in your actions that they are here to help me.” Tommy said, the moss beneath his knees and hands was cool to the touch. “Church Prime, thank you for the donations. The hermits have given me nothing but kindness with nothing in return, they let me eat their food and use their clothes. They let me use their materials to build this small shrine for you, and I thank you because I know you guided them here so that I could find refuge with them.” He lowed his head closer to the floor, eyes still shut. “Church Prime, thank you for the subs and donations.”

Lifting himself up, Tommy opened his eyes and stared at the statute. The anxiety in his chest had lessened after his prayer but it didn’t fully dissolve. There was still that looming threat of Dream finding out where he is, of him forcing himself to Hermicraft and causing destruction, and if he does that–then it would have been Tommy's fault. All the pain and misery placed upon the server would be because Tommy had disobeyed Dream and fled from him. And if anything had happened to the hermits, the ones he hasn’t met or the ones that took care of him, Tommy doesn’t know what he’d do.

“Wow,” A voice behind him started Tommy out of his thoughts. It was Xisuma. He stood at the entrance to the shrine room, bone helmet in one hand and the other resting on his hip as he looked at what Tommy had built. “This place looks amazing, did you build this?” Tommy nodded. “Well, this looks great. May I enter?”

“I can’t tell you no if I wanted to,” Tommy said and stood up.

“Why’s that?” Xisuma placed his second helmet on one of the benches as he walked closer to Tommy.

“This is for Church Prime,” He answered. “Church Prime lets anyone in if they need help or just a quiet place to rest, they are kind like that.”

“Are they your deity?”

Gesturing to the bench closest to them, Tommy and Xisuma sat down as the younger of the two spoke. “Yeah. My guardian from my other server had told me a lot about the watchers and the gods and goddesses they are bound to, one of them was Church Prime, at least that’s what my previous admin said their name was.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but I’ve never heard of a watcher or a deity named ‘Church Prime,’” Xisuma said. “I myself am a Watcher follower so I know a bit about them, too. Maybe they have a different name? Can you describe them to me?”

“Church Prime is a woman, with gold eyes and black hair,” Tommy began. “At least to me. But their world is pure white with a singular white cathedral-like building, that’s where they are. She is said to be time and life itself, knowing what is to come and who to bring forward into the overworld below. Her watchers were said to be a harbinger, leading all the tragedies that Church Prime saw in the future and bringing change to every world they enter.”

“Sounds to me like Chruch Prime is Lady Irene,” Xisuma said. “You speak of her so reverently, which is strange to me, because I‘ve always heard and read that she was cruel to players.”

“Change is always cruel isn’t it?” Tommy said. “It sets your world on fire and drags away your family with no regard for those left behind. It brings war and strife to all you love and takes away all the good from your life despite how much you beg for it to go away!” Anger had begun to bubble in his chest and it was at times like this that he wishes Church Prime wasn’t such a significant part of his life. He knows that eventually, everything has to change to bring forth all the good and bad that’s to come, and yet, it seemed as if all Church Prime had brought him was nothing but bad. But Tommy knew that it was all part of a plan. A plan only she would know and was doing everything in her power to make sure Tommy followed it. “But…change isn’t always cruel, sometimes is mercy.”

“How so?”

“Because sometimes she leads you to Kristin.”

Xisuma didn’t know what to say to that. Lady Death was the most merciful of the deities, despite her watchers being cruel and unforgiving. He had grown up learning about all the different gods and goddesses from worshipping the most cynical because of his home world, but it wasn’t something that didn’t sit right with the admin. How could he worship and praise a being that would terrorize the innocent for no logical reason? It went against the moral code Xisuma had for himself and he was about Tommy’s age when he delved deeper into the scriptures and texts about the other watchers and deities.

One had stuck out to him at that time–a watcher who had rebelled and fled from Lady Death’s domain. He had been chosen as a player to become a watcher, to follow Lady Death as she collected the deceased and guided them to the afterlife. But her watchers didn’t work with her, that was reserved for the Angel of Death, a man who has stood by her side for eons, the watchers were the ones to lay waste upon the overword.

Where Lady Irene’s watchers, the few that exist, were the warning signal of change and destruction; Lady Death’s watchers were the ones to bring forth that misery. They tore down villages and cities, burned empires to the ground, and killed with no empathy so that their goddess was seen as merciful. But Xelqua, the player who became a watcher, couldn’t kill. He went against his directive and fled from the goddess, becoming a minor god himself.

Xelqua, in his time of solitude, became the patron god of wanderers, those seeking what they lost in themselves and around them. He had guided them to places where they could heal and find hope, a hope Xisuma was told he, himself had lost during his time as Lady Death’s watcher. Xelqua granted protection to those in need, as well. And only Xelqua knows how many times the admin had prayed for protection over his hermits when he took the responsibility of Hermitcraft.

“Lady Death truly is the kindest of them all,” Xisuma said breaking the short silence. “I came here to ask about your previous server and how you came here, but I think I’ll leave that conversation for another day.” The admin stood up from his spot on the bench, stretching his arms above his head. “Oh, and I figured out you weren’t glitched into the server.”

“How?” Tommy asked. “If I wasn’t glitched, then how did I enter? Because Stress said that there weren’t any messages in your world chat about me entering.”

“I looked through the code at Stress’s pond and saw that there were traces of magic in the water,” Xisuma strapped his bone helm to his helmet. “A powerful magic user, who’s able to alter game codes, made it so that the water was a portal from your server to ours for a few moments. Which means that the person who had to have done it has to be one of three beings.”

“Which are?”

“An admin, a watcher, or,” Xisuma turned to face Tommy. “A god.”

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Oooooooh, tensions are rising and bits and piece of my adequate world building is showing.

Hope you all like the chapter!

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#hermit!tommy au #hermitblr #hermitcraft #dsmp #tommyinit mcyt #watcher! grian #watcher!pearlescentmoon #hc iskall #hc xisuma #stressmonster101 #cubfan135 #mumza as death #lady irene #hc x dsmp

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salarymanwaka · 2 years

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hi!! i found you recently and love your orv content hehe 💖 i looked at your shop and was wondering if you'll ever restock your older prints? like the one in this post for example? salarymanwaka(.)tumblr(.)com/post/702998220892209152 (all g if not, thank you in advance for reading this! ^^)

Hello! Waa thank you so much for your kind comment, I'm happy if you can enjoy my nonsense..! o( 'ヮ')o Omg I actually restocked a lot of them at the beginning of this year! I forgot to update the picture to remove the out of stock label but it should be possible to select it in the dropdown menu along with the other restocked items from this page. Sorry I didn't make any particular announcement about it since it's just a small restock, but I have swapped the picture now haha Thank you so much for reminding me..! (; u;)/💌

#question box #shop post #i restocked almost everything but a few designs could not be reprinted as they didn't pass censorship (the fully clothed but gay hugging)#i will see about reprinting next time i go overseas but for now i have just restocked what i can!

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hotnspicychiknwings · 25 days

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30/8/2024 - FRIDAY

I just realized I didn't upload yesterday. If I don't upload on a day I'm not going to my writing about it.

Today I woke up a little late, but not too late. I went to school as usual and restocked the candy basket from the 'vote me!' poster just for fun. Ms.T, my Chinese teacher, which will also be following us to the trip, briefed u on an assignment that we have to start on the following week, after the trip. There was a bunch of different projects we could choose, some are science based some are art based. I chose to make a documentary. In Visual Arts class, we had to do brainstorming and draw some ideas. I also had to give in my formative today. Break happened and I ate T's quarter of a sandwich. In Core and Study Hall, I mostly wasted time, doing a little visual arts homework, chatting, playing tetris.....In design class, we did more sketching and I taught J how to draw basic facial anatomy. At the end of class the Student Council Executive Results got announced, I lost. At first I just acted up because it's embarrassing to let people see me cry, I just smiled and raised my eyebrow at anyone that said I look sad and make unfunny jokes. I put my bag down and excused myself to the bathroom, I passed by A's group while going into the bathroom and locked myself in a bathroom stall and started crying, cliche I know but still. A apparently followed me in after putting her bags down. She comforted me... I was surprised to say the least. I felt happy that someone hugged me and told me they were proud of me rather than saying I was being weak for crying. Now I know why she won the election. I ate lunch as normal and went to play Go fish. For the last class I had math. I had to do a math placement test, the whole class did. I forgot half of the stuff on the paper, I'm definitely going to standard level mathematics. After school, I chatted with Bo, he was a nice guy. Told me when he was in Russia, January 2021, that it was as cold as -60 degrees, and he still had to walk to school. I would be frozen as ice by then. My aunt picked me up and we went to eat Japanese food. I ate a Saba teriyaki fish and some sushi. Now I'm home doing my work. I should probably pack for the trip.

Today was a rollercoaster of a day.

#idk how to tag this

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selinakidreams · 3 years

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hello!! this is my first ever collab and man o man am I happy to be participating in @buttershouse ‘s Magic March with so many talented people!! Please go check out everyone’s work, there’s so many delicious pieces to choose from.

without further a-due, please enjoy this 7k word mash of a magic coffee shop/witch/ college au that I have goin here

pairing: Sero Hanta (with a FUCKIN UNDERCUT !) x gn!reader (afab)

warnings: she’s WHOLESOME, implied sexual themes throughout and then actual smut at the end !! , sex on aphrodisiacs

a/n: thank you so so so so so so so much to @keishinslove @hiddenbluee @spikesbimbo @scorpiomoonslutt and @dymphnasprose for reading and beta-ing this big boi- you guys helped me so much and 🥺🥺 you guys seriously mean the world to me.

tag list: @hiddenbluee @undersero @sawam0chi

“Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble,” you hum as you steep black tea before shifting to the other part of your station so you could add the guise of vanilla to the milk you were about to steam.

You hear a snort come from your coworker as she looks over to you before smirking, “You think you’re so funny,” she teases while heating up a chocolate muffin for the current order.

“I do, I really do,” you muse, holding the metal pitcher up to the espresso machine’s steam wand. The distinct smell of the liquid luck wafts around as you begin blending it in with the milk; it makes you smile, a comfortingly warm feeling washing over you.

You always hoped people stepped into the shop hearing about the rumors and whole-heartedly believed them; believing in the magic that went into each drink when they ordered something off of the special menus- and that it wasn’t just for the unique taste.

When you first started out, you often heard that with each new employee, the magical feeling tends to die out sooner or later; the happiness of creating spells and potions for others fleeting with the ever-growing pessimism towards all things unexplainable. After working at the shop for three years, one would think the feeling would have caught up to you, instead you felt anything but. With each new regular whose eyes sparkled with excitement as you handed them their unique concoction of a drink, your smile grew wider. Sometimes the familiar faces would come back and whisper about how each drink gave them the right energy to deal with each individual situation… almost like magic. You could do nothing but smile, sometimes a coy little wink was added, exciting the customer more and more. They'd leave with a newfound pep in their step. That's what has kept you going for so long. All anyone ever has to do was keep an open mind and believe that true magic does exist, and when you do, it's almost as though a door opens up, full of delightful possibilities.

As you called out the finished order and thanked the satisfied customer, the shop’s entrance bell chimed, welcoming in the newest one.

You look up and made eye contact with someone who seemed oddly familiar; you tend to remember almost every person that has shown up more than twice at the cafe, so the fact that you can't fully recognize him only shows that the cafe couldn't have been where you’ve known him from... You couldn't quite put your finger on where you've seen him before but you definitely couldn't forget the welcoming aura he radiated. With his black hair pulled into a ponytail, exposing his undercut, and his extra large t-shirt hanging off of his lean frame, he flashed a bright smile, heading up to the counter to order.

Accustomed to ‘hey’s, ‘hi’s, or even an immediate order, the first thing out of his mouth somewhat surprised you. With a tilt of the head and a squint of the eyes, he mumbled out, “.. You look really familiar.” as he tried to place the face.

“You know, I was thinking the same thing...” you trailed off.

After a few seconds of analysis with no conclusion, he seemed to shrug and let out a little chuckle with a passive “it'll probably come to me in the middle of my next class…” before his eyes caught sight of the menus off to the side. Not wanting to make it too obvious that you were tempted to stare, you aimed your gaze elsewhere, only occasionally sneaking a glance at him while he was preoccupied with the menu.

“Ahh… can I get…” he kept his sights on all the options he could, as if it was going to make him any more decisive. Part of you hoped to hear something special, something magical, only to hear, “uhh a… hot latte please?”

While a very solid drink, you subconsciously waited to hear a flavor come after it; staring at him, almost in a daze.

“Did I forget something...?” Your eyes grew wide, mind blank, trying to come up with an excuse for the elongated silence but before you could spout something out, his smile grew as he rolled his eyes, “Oh, duh, I forgot the size!” A breathy laugh came after his revelation and your chest felt lighter once the sound hit your ears. “Could I get a large please?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” you chime as you grab a large paper cup and mark down his order with a sharpie.“Will that be all for you today?” looking back up at him, your customer service smile makes its awaited appearance like clockwork as it did when wrapping up every order. His eyes darted to the full pastry case before he could conclude, causing an actual smile to grace your lips, “Tempted?”

“One way or another, yea,” he said with an undertone of something else being implied, causing your cheeks to heat up. The smile that he threw in there further caused a little flutter of your heart.

“Well luckily for you, we just restocked, so you've got a wide range of goodies to choose from.”

He licked his bottom lip and smoothly responded with, “Well which is your favorite?”

“My favorite? Hmm… Well, I always love a good chocolate croissant whenever I'm drinking regular lattes. The chocolate adds in that kick of sweetness that compliments the lack thereof with the coffee and bonus, it's not too heavy where it will make you feel bloated.``

“You really know how to sell a guy… That sounds amazing. Could I have that, please?” the tone in his voice was playful, fun, possibly flirty- and that was something that you were not going to think about. He’s a customer; he might not come back when he wants his next cup of coffee.

“You want me to warm it up for you?”

“Sure!”

Picking up the prongs, you took the freshest croissant from the batch and placed it in the microwave oven, turning back around.

You voiced his total with a soft smile, “Cash or card?”

“Card. uh .. Can I leave a tip on here?”

Cue the airy sigh that left your chest. A man who knows to leave a tip: you were in love with him already.

“Yea!” you squeak before clearing your throat, “Yea, once you remove your card, the option should pop up on the screen!”

You throw one more smile back at him before turning around to start his drink, not missing the incredibly hard stare your coworker was giving you. You try not to look at them throughout the duration of making his drink.

Handing the handsome man his order, your hands lightly brushed against his and you fought hard to ignore the hefty thump in your chest. You looked back up at him and swore that there was a tint of rose dusted across his cheeks.

You saw the beginning of his outburst before you could hear it.

“Sero!” he said quickly, “Sero Hanta. That’s my name.”

You smiled, sticking out your hand and saying your name, “I’ll be sure to remember it… Sero.”

The rest of the shift went by pretty quick after that. Your coworker couldn't keep their mouth shut about how he was flirting with you and how you just so happened to be flirting back. You two were giggling so much that the rest of the shift just seemed to slip away and before you know it, it was time to clock out.

“Is there anything you want me to do before I head out?” you shout, asking the newly present night shift as you’re halfway out the door.

“No no, we got it,” both your coworkers chime, “just hurry up and get to class!” one of them adds.

Rolling your eyes, you wave goodbye, double checking that everything needed for class was in your bag before fully lugging one of the straps onto your shoulder and heading off.

The walk wasn't that far from the shop, luckily- taking your time and enjoying the world around you was such a cooldown from the hustle and bustle of your work shifts.

The college town was quaint, warm, homely; It felt like everywhere was a short walk away- which it was. There was an ample amount of time for you to stroll to class after one of your shifts.

As you peruse down the street, you took note of how bright it felt this time of day and how soft the glow emanating from the sunlight hitting the trees was; the kiss of the sun heated your skin, allowing you to bask in the warmth of everything: the environment, the vibe, the mood. What a great feeling.

Random thoughts passed in and out of your brain as you got to the entrance of campus- but the continuous train of thought halted at the station when the image of that man who came into the shop, the one with the undercut- Sero Hanta, popped up.

He was really attractive… where had you seen him before?

You mindlessly head towards the lecture hall, with the image of Sero’s face ever present behind your eyelids. The approaching building was a beautiful brick with ivy climbing up the side, a framed golden plaque near the large double doors announced that people were about to enter the Mirai Sasaki building- something you would normally stop to admire but today, you headed straight inside and towards your seat, still mentally preoccupied.

Plopping down, you situate yourself, getting everything out; your textbook, notebook, pens, pencils and even a highlighter. You take a deep breath before slightly shaking your mind to wake up and concentrate on the human sexuality lecture that was about to start. Sero Hanta can wait.

Is what you told yourself and yet, the thought of him wouldn't leave you alone. It went so far as even hearing the professor call out his name.

“So, I just wanted to clarify,” your ears perk up at the voice, “The article you gave us was about how unequal the orgasm ratio- the orgasm gap- is for women… but I feel like there is a new wave of um… feminine orgasm appreciation. Not to get too personal, but I know between my friends and I, we make sure that our partners always come… first.” He trailed off at the last part, probably coming to terms with the awkward phrasing he had ended with.

You had to take a second to get a grip; too many things were happening at once and the one that held most of your attention was the fact that Sero Hanta blatantly admitted to wanting the girl to orgasm first.

What a gentleman.

“Thank you for your… input … mister Sero- but with what you pointed out, it’s actually a perfect segway into the first project of the semester! If you notice in your syllabus, I typed a very vague title for the next class’s date. We're going to talk about it more next class but until then, please read the assigned articles by the next class and have a good rest of your day!”

While the majority of the class was packed and headed to the door, your eyes stayed glued on Sero as you mindlessly put things away. It seemed as though he was taking his time as well. Maybe he needed to talk to the professor?

Seeing that your desk was now cleared, you slowly began descending down the stairs to get to the floor level, eyes glued to each step in front of you, mind somewhere completely different until your head is met with a firm back. With wide eyes, you step back and begin a stream of apologies, head bowed and eyes still on the floor as if you didn’t learn your lesson the first time. A warm chuckle hushes you accompanied with a light, “It’s alright, it’s alright!”

You look back up and are met with the mind-dizzying smile of the man who failed to leave your thoughts alone.

Before your eyes could get any bigger, he murmurs your name. “So this is where I know you from!” He slightly cheered, lopsided grin growing comfortable.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚ 12 oz Time Flies with soy milk, hot; cinnamon orange black tea latte brewed with charmed orange peel to bring back the most nostalgic feelings (add a shot of our very own vanilla -liquid luck- to help Luck stay on your side!)˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

“Hey! Hey- you guys aren't closing are you?” You hear a panting voice rush through the door- the complete opposite of the energy the cafe currently held. You and your coworker were just winding down from your shift, cleaning and making sure everything was restocked for the next shift, soft music aiding the mood.

Sero was attempting to collect himself when he realized the two pairs of stunned eyes staring at him.

“I just- I wanted to walk with you to class. If that’s cool,” he said to you, flattening his shirt down, “and maybe get a coffee.”

Warmth fills your face as you try to suppress a smirk, “in that order?”

The already flustered college student blushed just a bit harder. Before he could come up with a response, your smirk eased into a soft smile, “okay Sero, what could I get you to drink?”

He steps further inside and orders the same thing he got the first time: a large hot latte. It doesn't take long until the drink is in his hand and you're shooing him off to a table, “I’ll be done in like 10 minutes, is that alright?” you ask, hints of your customer service mannerisms kicking in. He nods and you get back to cleaning, unaware that your movements became a bit swifter.

After clocking out, you’re met with an eager grin and a glint of something unnameable in sero’s eyes.

“The coffee was excellent, by the way. Both times I had it. Do you do something to it? I feel like it’s so much more than just a simple latte.”

You smile at two things, him opening the door for you, and the fact that he was absolutely oblivious to the fact that his drink is one of the few drinks you don’t add any magical properties to.

“I make it with kindness.” You say as you two start your walk, intertwining your hands behind you.

“So mister Hanta… have you been stalking me?”

His eyes grow wide as his cheeks taint red, “N-no! I just thought that maybe you work every shift that’s before our class.”

“Hmmm… So were you going to come by every day to test out your theory if i wasn't there today?”

“Well, luckily you were there, so I guess we’ll never know the answer.”

After you hummed out a response, the walk turned into a comfortable type of silent.

The both of you had several things passing through your mind, but outwardly, one was caught up basking in the fresh spring air while the other was admiring how the wind would slightly shift your hair.

Deciding to break the silence, you turned to face him, “Hey, so, why did you choose to take human sexuality?”

He didn't seem surprised to hear the question but he took a moment; it didn't seem like he was scrambling to find the perfect answer, it was almost like he just couldn't properly find the words.

“Honestly, I love intimacy. I think its really cool that not one person’s views on sex and sexuality and the miniscule details within it, are the same.”

While the words you were hearing made sense, it must have shown that you weren't prepared for such an insightful answer because he let out a hearty laugh that seemed to go on and on, even after he took a deep inhale.

“I’m sorry-” he choked out as he grabbed his chest, “your face just-” he gulped another breath of air, trying to regain composure.

Throughout his fit of laughter, you almost joined in a few times if it weren’t for you biting your cheek in attempts to keep the annoyed facade up.

As soon as it seemed like he got it all out, you try to pull a convincing pout.

“So what's the real answer, then?”

He cocks his head at your question, a smile still playing on his lips, “whaddya mean?”

“You're telling me that what you said wasn't just to catch me off guard?”

“Oh! No no, that's really why I'm taking the class. But i bet you thought i was going to say something asshole-y like ‘i just wanna learn more about sex so i could be better’, hm?” he said the last part in a dopey voice before smirking back at you.

You rolled your eyes in return, “not necessarily, that was just a really… refreshing… answer.”

By the time you got to class, it seemed pretty full, which was a bit odd seeing as though there was still some time before the lecture started. Part of you was hoping that you could snag a seat next to Sero or he could snag a seat next to you- but both of your usual seats were surrounded by others already. There was also always the possibility that maybe he didn't want to sit next to you; you didn't want to get your hopes up so you turned to him, waved goodbye, and headed to your normal seat. Unbenounced to you, he physically slouched in disappointment before heading to his spot.

The lesson went on, and while he wasn't crowding your mind today, you subconsciously kept stealing glances at him throughout the lecture in hopes that one of the times you'll find him glancing back at you. The only time you did catch him staring at you was with wide eyes when the professor announced that you two were going to be partners for the upcoming project.

“So I guess this means it's an appropriate time to ask for your number… I wanted to ask you for it but I didn't want to move too fast…?” he said as you two approached eachother after class, cracking a shy smile while he absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck, a subltle flex of his muscles on display. It was a bit hard to concentrate with a combo move like that attacking you, as if he was going in for the kill.

“I wouldn't have thought it was too fast.” you softly counter, flashing him a tender smile.

It was one thing to feel the heat go to your face, it's another to visibly see it appear on his.

You both traded phones at the same time with the promise to text each other later that night; you put a little coffee emoji by his name while he put the sun next to yours.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚20 oz The Charismatic ! with hemp milk, iced; freshly brewed jasmine tea with a shot of our very own vanilla (liquid luck) to help your attitude and chances toward any situation˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

Sitting at the furthest table away from the register, you start to unpack your laptop and make yourself comfortable- you're gonna be here a while. Powering up the device, Hanta pulls at the seat across from you and begins to mimic your movements.

“So you want our first project meeting… at a coffee shop?” you start, trying to keep the smile from coming onto your face. Looking up at him would mean automatic defeat seeing as it's getting harder and harder for you to look at him without your lips twitching upward.

“I thought it would be very symbolic.”

A snort greeted both of your guy’s ears as your eyes went wide and your hands shot up to cover your mouth. “Anyway, so the project.” Blushing around him was starting to become a regular occurrence, as well.

“Right,” he says clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

“So the project is to point out common sexual misconceptions and back it up with statistics and research articles. The fact that we got dibs on the misconception of the orgasm gap all because you had bragged about your personal sex life…” the thought alone shot a wave of warmth down your spine and right to your lower region. A flash of a Sero you hadn’t faced yet appeared in your imagination; him looking up at you, hungry and eager to please. It made your breath hitch.

“Well, yea! I had to voice it. I mean, I feel like it’s common sense! When you have sex by yourself, then you can focus on what makes you feel good and what makes you cum. But when you’re with a partner…” he trailed off and your gaze snapped to him, “you should make sure they cum at least once before doing… whatever you two.. had.. planned on… doing.” Sero finished, his eyes flickered between your eyes and lips.

Oh fuck.

You felt yourself throb.

“Y-yea! Uh I completely a-agree.”

It’s almost as though he could tell that you were flustered so just to top it off, he smirked, “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” before deciding to drop it and move on.

He took a sip of his drink and sighed, “You guys really do make the best coffee. I got the same thing as I did with your place and yet… I'm here longing for your coffee.” you snort once again.

After that, the conversation eased into the project and what exactly needed to be done; the assignment was very simple but sorting out what dates you guys were going to meet up and how exactly you were going to go about gathering the information was all crucial. The project was due in a month and needed to be submitted in powerpoint format- which the both of you were relieved about.

It was really cute seeing Hanta’s eyes all lit up when it came to the part of how you two were going to go about getting all the information needed. He even suggested to conduct a little side research if you guys were ahead of schedule. It was something that made your heart patter. It was almost like you had smelt some of the charmed rose petals from work because every time you looked at him, you couldn't stop the warmth that flooded in your chest.

With that thought, there was the fact that he was more than likely going to be spending large amounts of time at the cafe- would he notice? Should you just come straight out and explain it? Explain that you were considered a witch, someone who was open-minded and was in tune with their intuition and can work with certain herbs, charms, and spells to create wonderful things? It didn't seem that big of a deal to you, it was something you had grown up with; simple spells and practices that just made day to day life more simple. Not every witch has been through the same childhood you had, there’s no special school- not that you were aware of, anyway. Your parents kept their grimoire out in the open and let you frolic about as they eased basic wholesome rituals into your life, and when you got old enough, they let you take in chapter by chapter each spell they casted, each potion they brewed.

When you applied at the cafe, your first interview was full of normal questions worded in a way that almost sounded like it had a double meaning, thankfully you caught it and later was asked for a second interview- conducted by the boss himself. He had asked you to perform a basic potion/drink you grew up with, something that made you feel like you were walking on air. It was simple; a butterfly pea tea with a breath of life, with just a little bit of lemon activated the spell in the brew. When the well made drink hit his tongue, he offered you the job not a second later.

No. You wouldn't tell Sero yet. It never came up; It’d be odd to tell him straight off the bat- there's really no need. If he ever asks… then you’ll tell him.

But he hadn't so far.

Each meeting so far felt incredibly productive. It seemed like getting work done came naturally, with the topic being easy to discuss between the two of you and getting the articles to support your claim was fairly simple- apparently a lot of studies have been done about people’s orgasms.

Since drafting up a skeleton outline the first time meeting, the bits and pieces really started coming together, but the get-togethers sometimes didn't go as planned- however, what was a constant was that no matter what the meet-up consisted of, there would always be a paper cup from your work, filled with a hot latte.

Some of the days, rather than working on the project, the two of you would use the allotted time to sit in your cafe and goof off, or sometimes you would host “tea time” in your apartment and talk about anything and everything- and it was okay because very early on, you both gathered all the adequate articles that involved your topic and sifted through them to get the statistics you needed. Collecting the data was simple enough and putting it together just came easy to you.

Looking up from your laptop, finally done with sorting all the cited sources in each slide, you wave your hand at Sero to get his attention. Hanta was working on phrasing the facts and statistics from each work, so when he tilted his head up, gaze still on the screen until he finished typing the last sentence, he took his headphones out and hummed as he looked at you.

“You get the same thing everytime we’re together… why?”

He glanced at his almost empty cup before fully taking out his headphones, “I get it all the time because it really is the best latte I've ever gotten from a cafe before. I tell you this all the time.”

“You never… wanna try anything new?”

“Is there something in particular you want me to try?” he asks, quirking his eyebrow upwards.

“Well no, not necessarily…”

“Well then how about you give me a recommendation? What’s a drink you think I would love?”

This one stumped you for a minute. Though the thought had crossed your mind quite often, you couldn't quite pinpoint which special drink he’d appreciate the most. Something warm… something reflecting how you feel about him.

“I think that you should get the Time Flies; it's this black tea latte with orange zest and it's really… cozy.”

“Okay, I'll try it the next time I go.”

And he did. The first sip he took felt like smooth gold hitting his tongue. So warm and rich that it had apparently induced the vivid image of the sunset from his grandmother’s porch. He was remembering the orange glow of everything the light touched. The whole day, he was feeling incredibly nostalgic, he even did some of the things he used to do when he was a kid, like watch old black and white movies and make dinner with his mom (even if it was through a phone call).

He told you all of this with one of the most handsome smiles you've ever seen, and that's saying a lot.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚16 oz Love Me or Love Me Not with oat milk, hot; our very own pink rose syrup (enchanted candied petals inside and dried petals on top) steamed in the milk meets a double shot of espresso for a deep, sweet, cozy drink˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

“So,” you start once everything is situated on your living room table, the two floor pillows that play hosts to your guy’s lower halves sit diagonal from each other.

“So.”

“Everything is practically done, I just wanted to… call this meeting so we could just quickly skim over it and see if there was anything in the powerpoint that needed fixing and or adjusting.”

“Very reasonable reason to call this meeting but both of us have been looking at this practically nonstop… so I’m pretty sure it's good.”

“Well it’s due next class and I know we finished it up a few a couple of days ago but… there is absolutely nothing wrong with striving for perfection. And if anything, I’m trying to save your reputation.” he choked at the accusation you were attempting to make, “Oh yea! How are you going to get away with making that bold statement in front of the class, do a whole project on it, and then just… have it not be anything short of jaw dropping?” you didn't even wait for him to speak, “exactly. Your rep is on the line, I'm just the sorry person who got stuck with you.” You smirk, driving your ludacris point home while crossing your arms over your chest.

Scoffing, he leaned over and lightly shoved you, “we got to choose are partners for this project! You chose to be with me!” his cry caused a chuckle to fall from your mouth as you readjusted yourself onto your pillow, “that's neither here nor there.” you try your best snotty act as you stick your nose up in the air.

“Okay okay then, your grace, let us go over the powerpoint,” he jested along and gave you a slight bow.

After a quick runthrough, everything seemed spick and span, so the two of you became more relaxed and sunk into the larger floor pillows once again.

“So… I noticed that you finally got something from your shop.” Sero gestured over to the other paper cup on the table. “I have never seen you with your own coffee before, why today?”

Your cheeks involuntarily began to heat up; the drink he was referring to was none other than the Love Me or Love Me Not. Usually, you never went out of your way to make it, but for the occasion, it was necessary. It was the last time you guys were going to meet up for the project and you just… had to know.

Let it be known, messing with love potions wasn’t your forte, you preferred for everything romantic to be consensual and untampered with- that's why this brew in particular was one that you preferred out of all the ones that are out there. When made correctly, the person drinking it should be able to look at their crush (in person) and if the crush liked them back, then the drinker would get a fierce wave of goosebumps; if the person did not like them romantically, their head world ache for just a few minutes before going back to normal. Simple and effective, plus no one gets roughed up or drugged.

Not a single sip had been taken yet, you were on edge about the situation. This was the first time you had ever made it for yourself, and it was pretty nerve wracking to see if this man who you began harboring feelings for liked you the same.

It’s surely gone cold by now but that wasn’t going to stop you. “Oh! Uh- I was just really craving this drink today.” You say lamely before bringing the cup to your lips and taking a gulp.

The smell of rose hit your nose before you could register the taste. The evenly sweet syrup paired with the strong espresso danced on your tongue before you swallowed it. You softly sighed, it tasted delicious. Another sip slipped past your lips.

A roll of relief cascaded through you when an intense wave of goosebumps rose on your poked at your skin, causing you to cough and sputter. Eyes going wide and squeezing shut as the coughs wracked through your body.

He likes you.

While coming down from your fit, you semi glance at Hanta who had almost instantly appeared by your side, patting and gently rubbing your back.

“Is there liquor in that?” He joked as he handed you your drink so you could have more liquid to ease your throat.

You shook your head after drinking some more and cracking a grin. It might’ve been too big of a smile for someone who just choked but you didn’t care. Sero Hanta… likes you.

Unable to help it, you glance down at his lips only to realize how close he is. Your grin slowly drops, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Can I uh.. can I try your drink?” He says, face red with blush.

As you go to hand him your drink, he leans in and cups your jaw- causing your whole body to still, even your heart stopped to join the languor.

He peaks his tongue out to softly lap up a drop that must have been on your lip, before capturing your lips with his.

It felt like your mind shut down, and all you can feel is how soft his lips are and how sweetly he’s kissing you. Almost hesitantly.

He pulls away in attempts to find your gaze to decipher how you felt about it.

Your breath is ragged as you look back at him- everything and nothing is going on in your head in that moment, unable to speak, until you see the goosebumps that coat his body.

Your heart thumps impossibly faster as you realize that not only does he like you… but he truly believes. He believes in the two of you, he believes in love, and he believes in magic.

Without another second to waste, you tackle him in a hug and find your lips on his in a way that you know you’ll never get enough of.

special extra ! : you and Hanta in the fall- Season of the Witch with almond milk, hot; dirty chai latte with a bewitched cinnamon stick to help keep you warm ;) , even on the coldest of days ˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

The cold nips at your nose just as big hands nip at your waist, causing you to let out a noise between a squeak and a gasp. A flash of soft black hair blurred your vision before cold lips meet yours. “Hanta,” you sigh into the kiss before pulling away and giggling.

You were heading back to your apartment after a day shift at work, the sky already becoming darker because of the autumnal equinox.

“What are you doing? I thought I was gonna meet you at my place.” You say as your fingers intertwined and your step fell into pace with his. He pulled you closer so that you were basically leaning into him as you walked.

“You know those chocolate and pumpkin scones you baked for me? The special ones?” He quietly moaned.

Your eyes go wide as he purposely guided your intertwined hands over his blatant bulge.

“Hanta you weren’t supposed to eat those until later, the spell usually kicks in within the next 30 minutes!” You giggle again.

A few weeks after you two started officially dating, you formally sat him down and explained everything you didn't when talking about your guys’ past- the memories of frolicking through tall grass and talking to your mother’s familiar, to getting your job at the cafe. He told you that it was a lot to take in, but never did he push you away. When he went to the cafe, he was more observant. Somewhere in the months between June and July, he slowly became more and more interested in the rituals you would do and the potions you would make. He wanted to start joining in. Now in October, he loves seeing your crystals around your house and all the different herbs you grow in the sills of your window. When he found out that you could bake magical pastries with certain herbs, he almost immediately asked you to bake him some. At first, it started as something simple like a sage and rosemary savory loaf that helped cleanse your pallet of any negative energy. Then it started becoming more and more intricate, and that's how the two of you ended up here.

“I know but fuck-- I was hungry and they looked so good, and now I’m hard and I need you.” he spoke lowly.

This was going to be fun.

The rest of the way, you were casually asking him things that shouldn't be heard in a public setting, “What is it you want to taste first, Hanta?”

“How badly do you want to fuck me into the mattress? Hm? Have your big cock stretch me out?”

“Wanna fill me up?”

By the time you both got to your apartment, there was no fumbling with the keys to get your door to open, you already had them out; getting through the door took three seconds tops. Next thing you know, your back was against the closest wall, your hands pulling at his tied up hair and scraping your nails against his scalp when the soft locks fell. One of his big hands lifted up a leg of yours and he groaned as he thrust upward against your heat.

“Fuck-” he panted into the kiss before trailing down your neck, still holding up one leg while the other hand finds itself under your shirt, his fingers hot to the touch.

Releasing your leg and dropping to his knees, he looked up at you as he fumbled with the button of your pants. You lace your fingers in his hair, feeling him yank the material down your legs, tossing the one leg over your less dominant leg over your shoulder, and when a warm muscle hits your sopping clothed core, you pull his hair harder to apply more pressure.

“Look at me when I have you in my mouth, I wanna see how much you enjoy this.”

You felt yourself clench, and apparently so did he, because a smirk grew on his lips. “Oh, you like when I say things like that?”

“H-hanta, please.. '' your voice wavered before you sucked in a sharp gasp. He had a finger, then two inside of you in no time, the other hand keeping the underwear out of the way so his lips could wrap around your clit.

He was pumping in and out of you faster and faster, occasionally switching the pace to unbearably slow and when you would whine, he’d tilt his head up, mid lick, to throw you a teasing glance before picking up the pace. He bagan curling his fingers, hitting a spot that had your eyes rolling and with the pressure building up, it had you panting out a breathy repetitive stream of his name.

“‘M gonna cum Hanta, hh-” you moaned out before clenching your eyes shut, your body involuntarily shaking above him. And right below you, he was ready to lick up everything you had to offer.

Holding you steady as he came up to kiss you, your juices still on his lips, “you ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked when he pulled away. The short sobering moment hit as soon as he scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom, but after he tossed you onto the bed, the look he gave you as he was unbuttoning his pants drew your mind hazy again.

“Can't wait to pump you full of my cum, to have you a drooling mess because of my cock.” he huskily whispered, giving you so many delicious previews of how the night will go. “You want that, pretty? Use your words.” he said as he crawled over to you and caged you in. The scent of cedar wood and citrus clouded your senses.

“Yes please Hanta!” you whine, “wanna feel stuffed b’cause of your cum. Please fill me up--” you whimper out, cutting yourself off when you felt his leaky tip at your wet entrance.

Just like each time you two have been intimate, he guides himself slowly until he's in to the hilt of his pelvis, “shit, squeezing me so hard- c-an i move?” he moans out.

Unable to form coherent sentences, you frantically nod and squeak out, “yes!”

With your permission granted, he eases in a thrust before he starts snapping his hips into you.

“Fuck, look at you, milking my cock so good-” he moaned, as he leaned in and kissed you. Each sharp thrust jolted you upwards, proving just how powerful his thrusts were. You threw your arms around his neck for the slight stability.

You began to let out little moans into the kiss that spurr him further; everything was beginning to get to him. How tight you felt around him, the feel of your tongue against his, the sloppy wet noises of your cunt.

“I’m gonna cum-- i'm gonna cum!” he choked out.

You clawed at his back while whimpering pleas for him to fill you up, “fill me up with your cum, your cock fills me so good, please Hanta, more- more!”

You were clenching around him hard, and to bring you right to his level, he found your puffy clit and began a quick circular motion that made your jaw go slack, causing more frequent clenches.

His mind blurred as he pushed himself the deepest he could, moaning out your name and a gruff curse before emptying himself into you.

You felt him twitch inside of you right before hot seed coated your already warm walls, and that’s what pushed you into a convulsion of ecstasy.

He lazily humped his hips into you as you rode out your high before pulling out and rolling next to you.

Calling out your name to bring your attention to him, he pulls you into his chest where you could feel his racing heart, “what if… I started singing that song from hocus pocus? You know the one..”

What a goof, you thought to yourself, playfully smacking his chest as you roll your eyes, looking up at him.

“I put a spell on you… and now you're mine…” you begin to whisper, earning a hearty laugh from you boyfriend.

Maybe it was mutual, but quite possibly he had put a spell on you. And you were more than okay with it.

#she dreams !#butter’s house🏡#🪄 — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓.#sero hanta #sero mha #sero smut #sero hanta smut #mha fanfiction #mha #bnha smut #bnha #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academia smut #sero bnha #sero hanta mha #mha smut #smut

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honeyedhoseok · 3 years

Text

Blue | 01

genre | jeon jungkook x reader; lifeguard!JK but this isn't really a lifeguard fic; soulmate!au if you squint; smut; angst

word count | 9.9K

summary | that summer with jungkook was blue--a shade that carries with it a tinge of melancholia that you should have accepted from the beginning.

or,

to say that you fell in love with a color was an overstatement, but to say that you fell in love with him was an understatement.

a/n | i've been writing this to avoid my responsibilities. hope you enjoy! <3

series masterlist

It rained the first day Jungkook worked at the pool.

You’d heard the news of a few new lifeguards starting that day, but you’d been too busy serving ice cream at the snack bar to really get anything other than a quick glance at the lifeguard stand before you were locking eyes with the next greedy customer in line.

It was the beginning of summer, with the air sitting hot, dry and heavy on the normal patrons of the pool: older moms who sunbathed and gossiped with their friends while their kids splashed in the shallow end and gave the lifeguards something to do. Teenagers too cool to actually get in the pool littered the sides, only dipping their feet in while using expensive Ray Ban frames like a headband to hold their hair out of their eyes while they talked with their friends.

The forecast had mentioned some scattered storms, but normally that just meant getting everyone to come inside for a few minutes until it passed. The storm that day, however, had plans of sticking around a little bit longer.

You were passing a cup of strawberry shortcake soft serve out the window when the first clap of thunder sounded, followed by a lightning storm that sent the lifeguards in a tizzy. Multiple whistles blew at the sudden appearance of a storm, and the atmosphere was a rush of splashing and commotion as people made their way out of the water and to their belongings scattered in chairs on the sides.

“Well, that came out of nowhere,” your coworker, Jihyo says, sidling up beside you to look at the clouds looming over what was supposed to be a normal day at the pool. “Wonder if we’ll get to go home early?”

“I hope not,” you reply. “I need these hours, damn it. The Blooming Festival is in a few weeks, and I plan on taking off at least three days to soak it all in.”

Jihyo rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you’ve only mentioned it, maybe, every day I’ve worked with you so far?”

Serving ice cream at the pool was just a summer job. You were working there to make some money so you could do things with your friends, put gas in your car, and occasionally splurge on a new outfit or pair of shoes. It was supposed to be as normal as every other summer you’d worked there in between college semesters—until he showed up.

In fifteen minutes, the pool was shut down completely; all of the patrons were packed up and back in their cars after an announcement from your manager that the storm was forecasted to not let up for at least another hour and a half.

“Oh, we’re definitely going home,” Jihyo says, shutting the serving window and twisting the lock. “When’s the last time Seokjin shut down the pool indefinitely?”

You purse your lips, leaning back against the counter behind you and looking out at the pouring rain behind Jihyo. The wind was starting to pick up now, leaves and debris filling the once-clean surface of the cerulean water of the pool.

You start to make a bitter remark but the sound of heavy, slapping footsteps cuts you off, followed by a loud pounding at the back door. Jihyo looks toward the source of the noise with furrowed eyebrows, tilting her chin up stubbornly.

“More twelve-year-olds coming to demand that we restock Moose Tracks?”

“Hey, Moose Tracks is a classic!” you call at her back as she goes to unlock the door. “It’s not their fault you keep picking unpopular flavors to order each week—like Mint Chocolate Chip!”

The back door opens, and the shop is suddenly flooded with voices following Jihyo back into the small space.

“MCC is the goddamn classic, Y/N,” Jihyo says, stomping back into the conversation like she never left off. “Don’t ever bash it again, or I’ll stop ordering Sea Salt Caramel for your uncultured ass!”

You want to laugh, but you’re too distracted by the hoard of boys—lifeguards—trailing behind her. Yoongi and the two new guys crowd your space suddenly, and you find yourself backing up into one of the corners and trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt for just arguing with Jihyo over ice cream flavors, of all things.

The boys are soaking wet, puddles collecting at their feet on the tiled inside of the kitchen, but they seem unphased by it as they huddle in. Thankfully, one of them comes to your rescue.

“I’m with her,” he says, giving you a nod. His smile fills up his whole face as he talks, making his eyes turn into little crescent half-moons. “Sea Salt Caramel is where it’s at.”

The other lifeguard doesn’t say anything, gaze focused over your heads outside where the wind is knocking sunbathing chairs over. You realize then how tall he is—possibly half a foot or more than you—and the thought that if you were close enough, your nose wouldn’t even brush the dip of his clavicle, has your cheeks burning.

He and the half-moon lifeguard have similar builds: long, lean body statures, almond-shaped eyes, the same dark hair that falls in wet strands in their eyes. You wonder if they’re related. Maybe the taller one is the older brother, you think.

“The great ice cream debate,” Yoongi murmurs suddenly, sounding bored. “How about we have some and solve this problem once and for all?”

As he reaches for one of the serving spoons, Jihyo’s arm flies out, smacking it out of his hands. It falls with a clatter onto the counter, and he looks at her with an animated expression of surprise and disgust.

“Uh-uh,” she says, wagging a finger at him. “It’s like Seokjin’s only rule for us.”

“Seokjin can kiss my—“

As if on cue, the back door swings open and Yoongi shuts his mouth as Seokjin comes in, looking incredibly dry due to the floor-length plastic covering hanging from his umbrella.

Leave it to Seokjin to own something as extra as that, you think.

“Get comfy,” he says as he steps out of the plastic, shaking water off the top that splashes onto your scuffed, white Keds.

You gaze down, realizing only then that none of the lifeguards are wearing shoes. Yoongi’s pinky toe is edging dangerously close to a melted puddle of chocolate ice cream you forgot to clean up, but you don’t have the guts to tell him in front of your manager, so you shoo the thought away and focus on the grim look on Seokjin’s face. He’s chewing gum and looks slightly annoyed at the thought of all five of you huddled inside instead of doing work.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he says, “but I need you guys to stay here until the storm calms down. It should pass in an hour or two.”

Jihyo frowns. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll send you home.”

She grins triumphantly.

“And I’ll need you to come in early tomorrow to clean up that mess out there,” Seokjin adds, giving her a sickly-sweet smile. He blows a bubble with his pink chewing gum for emphasis, the pop resonating in the small space.

Yoongi frowns and Jihyo’s mouth drops open. The new lifeguards seem as surprised as the other two, and they eye Seokjin curiously, probably trying to figure out what kind of manager he is. Even after all this time working for him, you don’t really know the answer to that question, either.

“Any more questions?” he asks, tone leaning somewhat on annoyance. But then again, that’s how Seokjin always sounded.

Jihyo shakes her head and Yoongi gives him a deepened frown in answer.

“Good. You,” he says, looking pointedly at Yoongi and mimicking his annoyed expression. “See to it that Hoseok and Jungkook get acquainted with the rules.” He steps inside his clear cocoon of an umbrella, reaching down to zip it up above his head. “And I’ll let you know when it’s safe to go outside and clean up.”

Jungkook, you think. You know immediately that it’s his name because it just fits him. You feel yourself rolling the unspoken syllables around the inside of your mouth, wondering when you’ll get the first chance to say them aloud.

Yoongi salutes half-assedly, and Jihyo elbows him in the side after Seokjin turns around and makes his exit. After the back door is shut, the five of you visibly deflate, and Yoongi sucks his teeth.

“That guy,” he mutters. “One of these days—”

“I wish you’d learn your lesson and stop messing with him,” Jihyo says, interrupting whatever nasty comment was about to spill from his mouth. “It’s probably because of you that Seokjin wants us to stay, instead of going home in this god-awful weather.”

“Why doesn’t he like Yoongi?” Hoseok asks, eyes flickering to the chestnut-haired, simmering boy to his left.

“His most recent offense?” Jihyo ponders, crossing her arms over her chest as she thinks. “Not showing up for his shift—threedays in a row.”

“I was sick,” Yoongi says dryly, narrowing his eyes at her. “What did you want me to do? Not stay in bed and get better?”

“Oh, your bed must suddenly have relocated to the pool hall at five in the afternoon, huh?” she says, tilting her head to the side in mocking. “Snapchat locations don’t lie, Yoongi. If you’re going to play hooky, do it better.”

Hoseok chuckles. “Damn, man.”

Yoongi, never one to back down from an argument, flicks his brown fringe out of his eyes. “Why don’t you teach me then, Little Miss Stomachache?”

“I had cramps!” Jihyo says indignantly.

“You’ll learn that being around these two is like being around an old married couple,” you murmur to Jungkook and Hoseok as Yoongi and Jihyo’s voices rise louder and louder in contest. “They get along like cats and dogs.”

Jungkook grins at your comment, and you think your heart stops a little in your chest before starting an accelerated rhythm that has you feeling light. His lips pull back prettily over his teeth, his cheeks balling a little from the force of it.

“I’m thinking cats and dogs might actually be more civil than this, to be honest,” Hoseok says, gesturing to an annoyed Yoongi threatening to rub his clammy, wet feet on Jihyo’s bare, shorts-clad legs.

In the time that you had worked there, there were very few civil moments between Jihyo and Yoongi. You think that maybe they were civil when Yoongi first started, and you remember faintly a comment made by Jihyo that Yoongi was “cute” and maybe that they exchanged numbers at some point—but then rumors went around that Yoongi said Jihyo was too loud and controlling, and Jihyo said he was a selfish bastard, and you think they’ve been sworn enemies ever since.

“You’re probably right,” you say finally, giggling at Hoseok’s comment. You stop abruptly when you see Jungkook’s eyes fall to your mouth at the sight of it splitting open with a grin. They linger there for a moment before he speaks for the first time since entering you and Jihyo’s space.

“What did you say your name was, again?” he asks.

His voice is soft and low, almost a lilted hum, and it catches you off guard in comparison to his very boyish, young features. You expected it to be higher, to sound almost preteen-like, but it’s nothing of the sort—it immediately has you questioning how old he is in comparison to Hoseok.

“Y/N,” you say. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I guess.”

Jungkook smiles again, and this time it feels like one especially conjured up for you.

“Y/N,” he repeats, the sound of his tongue rolling over the syllables sends a little zap to your insides. “You um, have a little something there, on your shirt.”

He takes one hand out of his blue swim trunks and points to your breastbone, where a dark splotch of chocolate ice cream sits over your sternum.

“Aw, fuck!” you murmur, facing burning as you spin around on your heel, grabbing the nearest hand towel and dabbing at your shirt. “These kids—”

“It wouldn’t stain like that if it was Mint Chocolate Chip,” Jihyo sneers suddenly, cutting whatever Yoongi was about to say to her off. She grins triumphantly at the stain, returning to your argument from earlier. “Would it?”

You flip her the bird, still dabbing at the fabric—but you can’t help but revel a little in the cute smile Jungkook gives you as he watches you fuss over yourself, digging around the kitchen space for anything to save you from the ice cream on your shirt.

After that fated day, your mind lingered on Jungkook incessantly. At the pool, you glanced at him more often than not from the serving window of the ice cream stand, committing him to memory. You found yourself reminiscing over the upended triangular shape of his upper body, the lithe muscle covering his shoulder blades, the image of a whistle poised between his rosy lips, his teeth pressed tightly against the metal, his body wet and glistening as he rose out of the pool—

“You’re literally drooling, Y/N,” Jihyo says, breaking you out of your reverie by snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Why don’t you just, I don’t know, go talk to him?”

“I will,” you say indignantly. “I told you—I’m waiting.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, nodding. “Still waiting.”

“Jesus,” Jihyo sighs. “I didn’t want to do this, but you know he’s only here for the summer, right?”

You freeze in the middle of cleaning the counter. “He’s what?”

“You heard me—you have less than three months, Y/N,” Jihyo says firmly. “I know rushing isn’t your style but, uh, you might not have a choice this time.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me!”

You hate how your voice sounds pitiful and whiny, but your heart is literally sinking at this news—three months? Less than three months? Where was he going? What would you do with your time when he wasn’t there to look out the window at? It dawns on you suddenly that you won’t be there in three months, either. School started back at the end of August—your sophomore year.

“Why didn’t you let me know you were interested in him?” Jihyo crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ve been watching you fawn over him for all this time, just waiting and hoping you’d confide in me, but no.”

“What was I supposed to say?” you retort glumly. “That I like the lifeguard that seems the least interested in my existence? Yeah, no, I’ll save myself from that sadness train going nowhere, thank you very much.”

“Maybe I can help you,” Jihyo says with confidence, turning to the window. “Hey, Jungkook!”

You freeze. “What? What are you doing?”

Jungkook looks your way, raising an eyebrow above his black Ray Bans. Jihyo leans out of the serving window, beckoning him over with a wave of her hand.

She turns to you. “Look how easy this is going to be.”

You swallow to combat the sudden tightness in your throat, watching with bated breath as Jungkook climbs down the lifeguard ladder and walks to you two, his feet slapping a little on the wet cement surrounding the pool.

“What’s up?” he says, pushing his sunglasses back on his head and unknowingly releasing the full intensity of his doe-like eyes.

You inhale a small gasp that Jihyo obviously hears, because she lightly presses her Ked-clad foot on top of yours below the counter.

“Me, you, Y/N, Hoseok,” Jihyo says with a confidence you could never muster. “Dinner and a movie on the boardwalk this weekend?”

Jungkook’s eyes pass from hers to yours for a split second, and your pulse picks up speed in your veins. If he seems surprised from the random invitation, however, he doesn’t let it show on the easy-going expression that he wears.

“Sure,” he says. “Can you remind me when it gets a little closer? I’ll have to make sure my parents don’t have anything planned.”

Jihyo flips her hair over her shoulder, casually producing her phone from what feels like thin air. You blink down at her hand, realizing this was her plan all along.

“Put your number in,” she says. “I’ll make us a group chat. We should probably have one anyways, since we work together. You know?”

Jungkook nods and puts his number in before handing it back to her. A commotion happens in the water behind him, and he glances over his shoulder with concern. “I should probably head back,” he says. He gives you both a small smile before he flips his sunglasses down over his eyes again, hitting a slight jog back to the lifeguard stand.

When he’s out of earshot, Jihyo texts rapidly on her phone. When she’s done yours vibrates three times in your pocket: the start of the group chat, you’re sure.

“And that, my friend,” she says, giving you a grin that could rival the Grinch when he decided to steal Christmas, “is how you get the ball rolling!”

Unfortunately, Jihyo’s plans—which she has annoyingly coined as Operation: Get Y/N Laid—don’t stop there.

On Thursday, just two days before the plans, she convinces Hoseok to come with her to something before the meet up that’s going to coincidentally make them late so that you and Jungkook have time to be alone.

When she tells you this, it’s as she’s making a double scoop chocolate cone, but you can’t help the overwhelming urge that comes over you to put your hands around her neck.

“Ack! Y/N! Let go!” she says between breaths with wide eyes. “I’m going to drop the ice—”

“You’re so dumb!” you yell, squeezing a little harder. “That’s such an obvious ploy to get us alone, he’s going to realize it!”

Jihyo finally squirms out of your grip by turning her head and licking your arm. The warmth of her tongue makes you recoil, and she gasps with relief as air floods back into her lungs, looking at the now-lopsided cone in her left hand.

“Now how am I supposed to give this to that little brat outside?” she says, frowning. “His mom will come and eat me alive if I hand this slop out of the window.”

“You probably deserve it,” you say sourly. You lean your hip into one of the counters, crossing your arms over your chest. “Take your plans back, Jihyo.”

“I can’t,” she says calmly. “Hoseok is already in on it.”

“He’s what?!”

“He’s in on Operation: Get Y/N Laid,” she says again, with that same ridiculous manner of calm, like you didn’t just make her life flash before her eyes thirty seconds ago. “Stop freaking out—he wants to give you some time alone just like I do. So, he’s not going to say anything to Jungkook. The plan will go on like normal, you will just have to do a little acting when we don’t show up on time. Got it?”

In all honesty, it’s not the worse plan she has ever come up with. But you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing so, so you keep your current frown plastered on your mouth for a little longer to let her know your displeasure with the sudden turn of events.

“Oh, don’t you go all pouty on me,” Jihyo says, wagging a finger at you as she trashes the cone you messed up and grabs another. She scoops more ice cream out of the container below her, giving you a look that reminds you of a mother watching her children open Christmas presents after telling them they weren’t getting anything for months. “You’ll thank me later—right after you tell me if Jungkook has anything worthy of talking about.”

“I’m sure he does,” you respond indignantly, falling right into her trap. “He’s intelligent.”

Jihyo hums a nod before brandishing the new cone, two scoops of chocolate perfectly centered and balanced on top of each other. “Before long this will be you two—are you a top or a bottom, though? I forgot.”

You groan in anguish as Jihyo lets out a cackle, opening the window to your stand and handing it out the impatient little boy that waits outside. You’re grateful for the breeze, although its simmering warmth does nothing for the same feeling that has settled high on your cheeks, dusting pigment there reminiscent of a similar shade of red Jungkook sometimes sports on his swim trunks.

The day of the boardwalk date, you find yourself sprawled out on the floor in front of your closet in your underwear and bra, contemplating why you ever purchased every single item of clothing in your closet.

These kinds of freak outs are normally reserved for the pressing dates in life—first day of college, nights out with the girls, birthdays—but today, you find yourself freaking out over the instance of having to wear the perfect outfit in order to feel comfortable around Jungkook.

Comfortable, and most importantly, pretty.

You shuffle through your two final picks, laying them across your bed in order to get the full effect of what they might look like on. They were both incredibly simple—your college wardrobe either consisted of exercise shorts and t-shirts and hoodies or going out clothes that were much too revealing for a fun night on the boardwalk. But you fret over them some more, so much that you almost have a nervous breakdown and text Jihyo to call the whole thing off.

But the slight hum of your phone vibrating your bed stops you before you can do so. It’s from Jungkook, and you heart beats a little off kilter at the sight of his name popping up on your phone screen.

Jungkook 5:15PM : We still meeting at 6?

It’s directed to your group chat with him, Jihyo and Hoseok. You take a deep breath. Jihyo had told you that she wasn’t going to respond to any messages until the last minute, to really sell her “emergency” that she had to bring Hoseok along on. You were driving separately, as was Jungkook, but the two of them had decided to conveniently carpool a day prior.

Y/N 5:18PM : I’ll be there! Park at Pier 14, it’s the closest one to the boardwalk

Jungkook 5:20PM : Yes ma’am 😊

You smile down at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip softly as you read the message over a few times before clicking the screen lock button. You prop your hands on your hips, deciding that it’s now or never. The nights got chilly in the summer when the sun wasn’t beating down as heavy, and you hated being cold. So, you choose the outfit on the right—a simple, oversized pullover and bike shorts, paired with some scuffed white sneakers, and rush into the bathroom to get ready so you’re not late.

You get to the pier at exactly 6:01 and search around for a parking space.

A part of you feels like this is a bad plan. Especially when you look down at your phone after cutting the engine and realize that Jihyo has texted you something that makes your stomach drop.

Jihyo 5:59PM : Haha…bad news

Jihyo 5:59PM : DON’T KILL ME

Y/N 6:02PM : Please, no!!! What is it!!

Jihyo 6:03PM : The check engine light on my car came on as I was leaving Hoseok’s. Don’t panic. We are waiting for AAA to come get us and take us back to his house so he can drive. I repeat: DON’T. PANIC.

“Okay, okay” you say to yourself, taking a few calming, deep breaths in. “At least she has a plan? This can still work out. I’m not panicking. Yet.”

Y/N 6:03PM : When are they estimated to be there?

Her messaging dots appear and disappear for a few minutes and your anxiety skyrockets.

Y/N 6:06PM : JIHYO

Jihyo 6:07PM : between 6:45-7PM…

Y/N 6:08PM : THE MOVIE STARTS AT 7:05 YOU ABSOLUTE

There’s a knock at your window that has you almost jumping out of your skin. When you look up, you’re met by the wide grin and big, childlike eyes of Jungkook. He peers at you through the tinted glass, looking a little sheepish at having scared you on accident.

All your anxiety about Jihyo having an actual emergency disappears as you unclick your seat belt and scramble out of the car to join him.

“I really didn’t mean to do that,” he says, stepping back and giving you space to swing your door open. “Is everything all right?”

“What?” you say. “Oh, yeah. Everything is fine. Well—sort of.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you. “Did something happen?”

“Jihyo is having car trouble, so her and Hoseok are going to be late.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shifting your weight from leg to leg. The outing was supposed to be all of you as a group—and originally, them being a little late wouldn’t have been such a problem. But you were thinking thirty minutes max, not an hour and a half!

You’re relieved when Jungkook shrugs. “Oh, okay,” he says. “Well, I’m still cool with walking around until the movie starts if you are ?”

You nod with enthusiasm. “Right—we’re already here, might as well go do some stuff?”

Jungkook smiles again, and you finally take a good look at him. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt under a black zip-up hoodie and a pair of chinos—a simpler outfit that looks way too good on his tall, lean frame. You hadn’t seen him in much other than his swim trunks because the only time you two really saw each other outside of this singular moment, was at work.

Of course, you weren’t complaining about that aspect. You could probably pencil out in detail the muscles of Jungkook’s upper chest and stomach, the way water rolled off them when he got out of the pool, the way they flexed when he pulled his whistle to his mouth. That is, if your drawing skills weren’t absolute shit—so bad at that a kindergartener could probably put you to shame with snapped Crayola’s and disproportionate stick figures.

The sun has already sunk below the horizon, taking with it all the heat and warmth of the day and leaving you with a slight breeze that could give you goosebumps if you let it, and a sky the deepened color of cornflowers.

It’s twilight, you realize, as you trail beside Jungkook from the parking lot cement onto the wooden planks of the boardwalk. A backlit, blue-hued time of day that you absolutely adored during the summertime because you still had just enough light accomplish the activities you wanted to.

Not that you needed to worry about light at a time like this—the bright boardwalk stadium lights are almost blinding, and because it’s the weekend, the two of you find yourself periodically weaving in and out of the crowd that seems to get busier and pushier the further you walk.

Jungkook takes the lead, his taller frame holding more of a reason for people to move out of the way than yours. You watch the back of his head the whole time, noticing the way his raven hair reflects the light—shiny and clean and looking incredibly soft.

“How about a snow cone?” he calls over his shoulder. “It looks like there might be somewhere for us to sit up there.”

He points ahead and you call out an agreement to him, hoping to be heard over the ruckus.

You realize that the crowd isn’t going to let up anytime soon—people have no qualms about walking in between you two, and you find yourself speeding up in order to not be further separated from him.

At some point Jungkook glances behind him again and realizes your struggle. He slows his pace, and you happen to look down and realize he is holding out the long sleeve of his hoodie for you to hold on to.

“Don’t get lost,” he says with a grin. “This snow cone will be worth it, I promise!”

You return his smile, holding onto his arm with a light touch as he continues to lead through the crowd. You curse Jihyo silently in your head—despite her fake emergency turning into a real emergency, she was right about one thing: time alone with Jungkook was something you couldn’t pass up.

When you finally make it to the snow cone cart, you let go of Jungkook’s arm quickly. He looks at you with suspicion as you snatch away, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a shit-eating grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing to your racing pulse by offering you his touch.

“What flavor do you want?” he asks, looking at the menu stand on the right. “My treat.”

You both immediately point to Tiger’s Blood, and Jungkook seems pleased with you.

“Good choice,” he says. “If you picked Pina Colada, I was going to lose it.”

You giggle. “You don’t like coconut?”

“No,” he says, frowning. “I snuck some of my mom’s Malibu one time without realizing and I almost barfed.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. You realize that you still don’t how old Jungkook is, and while he orders your snow cones, you look at him with scrutiny. There was something young about his eyes and face, the roundness of the tip of his nose and cheeks making you believe he was younger than you. But his body—good grief, his body—and the sharpness of his jawline and said otherwise.

When you’re both seated at a picnic table, you decide to ask him.

“Why?” he says. “How old do you think?”

You take a timid bite of your snow cone, relishing in the satisfying crunch of ice between your teeth. “Hmm, I know you’re college-age. Just wondering how old.”

“That story I told about sneaking alcohol was from a few years ago,” he says, laughing. “I’m twenty-one.”

“Oh.”

“You’re only nineteen, right?” he says, but it doesn’t seem like he cares much that you’re younger.

You nod. “But my birthday is in September.”

“So is mine,” he replies with a grin. “We’ll have to try to celebrate together, somehow.”

You try not to let on how happy his suggestion makes you—that months from now, you two will be friends that throw parties together, or possibly more—and you settle into your seat, munching happily on the cold treat that is slowly turning from ice to mush in the paper cone in your hands.

“So why the pool?” you say a few moments later. “Did you work at another one before ours?”

Jungkook blinks. “I have my CPR certification from another part time job I had at a gym,” he said. “I don’t know why they made us get it, honestly.”

You laugh. “Maybe in case one of the meatheads lifted too much at once?”

“Maybe,” he says, grinning. “But the gym couldn’t work around my school schedule anymore. So, when I came home I saw the pool was looking for a new part-time lifeguard and I applied.”

“You only come home during the summer?”

Jungkook nods, but a look of annoyance flashes across his face before he answers. “There’s not much for me here, honestly. I like school and being on my own, away from my parents.”

“I get that.”

It was something you could both agree on. You didn’t realize freedom could taste so sweet until you moved into your dorm on campus. You could stay up when you wanted, sleep when you wanted, go out when you wanted. As long as you kept your grades up and didn’t lose your scholarship for your parent’s sake, you were literally allowed to do whatever your heart desired.

“It’s too far away to fly back and forth, anyways,” Jungkook adds, suddenly. He tilts his paper cone back, dumping all of the remaining liquid into his mouth before crumpling it in his left fist.

“How far?”

“California.”

“Oh. Why there?”

Somehow, you were taken aback to hear that he’d chosen a school so far from his home. You wonder suddenly if the sullen look he’d given your earlier had more to it than you realized.

Jungkook ignores your question—like you expected—and stands up. You scramble to finish the remains of your cone and he holds his hand out for your trash. You give it to him, feeling the slight brush of your fingers against his palm that reminds you of earlier when he’d offered his arm. He doesn’t this time, but you find yourself wishing he would again. Or that you two were close enough for you to reach out and grab it without his permission.

“That’s a story for later,” he says, giving you a look meant to soften the blow of his hard statement. “I don’t want to talk about it right now—it’ll ruin the mood.”

You nod slightly, bringing your bottom lip back between your teeth to gnaw on. You hadn’t meant to upset him.

“Is there anything you want to do?” he asks, looking around. “We have about thirty minutes before we should head back to the car for the drive-in movie.”

The boardwalk was in full swing as the night progressed, the sky now a deep shade of indigo behind him. You stand with him, leaning onto your tip toes in an effort to recognize any signs further down the wooden path.

“The arcade, maybe?” you suggest.

Jungkook fake clutches at his chest, staggering with clumsy steps to one side. “A woman after my own heart,” he says theatrically. “I might faint.”

You laugh loudly and roll your eyes to cover up your own heartbeat thumping wildly in your ears. You use the rush to match his energy: “I’m only saying it because I want you to win me a plushie.”

Jungkook smiles, his eyes full of light and mischief at getting to show off his skills. “That, madam, is a deal. Let’s go.”

Jihyo still hasn’t texted you by the time you and Jungkook exit the arcade.

You want to send a scolding text to her, but in reality, you don’t really care if they show up anymore. Jungkook seems to have forgotten they were coming—he doesn’t look at his phone once while you two flit from game to game in the arcade.

You’d watched from the side as he entered a water pistol race with a few other patrons of the boardwalk. He sat down on a stool right in the middle of everyone, leaning over the gun and closing one eye for better accuracy. His tongue poked out between his lips, his form rigid and unyielding until the announcer blew a whistle to start the race. You held back a laugh at his seriousness, pressing a hand to your mouth in case he looked over at you.

He did, but only once the flashing lights above his booth went off, signaling him as the winner. He’d hopped off the stool and raced over to you, placing a hand above your elbow before pulling you over to claim your reward from the prize table.

You chose a blue and white dolphin that was just big enough to be slightly comical. Jungkook carried it over his shoulder as you two walked back toward his car, giddy from the excitement of playing carnival games and teasing each other all the while.

“Okay, but you wouldn’t have even beaten me at basketball if yours didn’t come to my side and knock my shots off course constantly!” Jungkook insists. “You’re a sneaky little thing.”

“Why can’t you just admit my two-pointer is better than yours?”

“Y/N,” Jungkook says, shaking his head in disappointment. “I’m almost six foot and you’re what—five-one? You simply can’t be a better shot that I am because of your genetics. I’m sorry.”

Your mouth drops open. “I’m literally five-three!”

“Minus two.”

“Oh, whatever!”

Jungkook laughs loudly, throwing his head back from the force of it. You pout alongside him, but you can’t help the telling smile that creeps onto your face. You like this side of Jungkook—it was so different from the stoic and quiet lifeguard you knew him as before.

“The drive-in is just a block that way, right?” he asks once you two come up on the parking lot. He shifts the dolphin higher on his shoulder, stopping in his tracks to turn and look at you. “I can drive us in my car, if you want.”

Your eyes widen a little at his suggestion. You didn’t even think about the fact that if Jihyo and Hoseok weren’t here, it would just be you and him watching the movie together.

“Oh—um, I mean,” you stumble over your answer. “If that’s okay with you?”

“I offered, didn’t I?” he says with another laugh. He gestures to the stuffed animal perched on his shoulder. “Plus, we’ve got a nice seat cushion, here.”

You smile and nod before following him to his car. It’s a little navy SUV—something you didn’t expect him drive at all. He seemed like a “car guy” for some reason, one that would have driven something old and sturdy and loud.

“This is—cute,” you say, for lack of better wording.

Jungkook sucks his teeth. “Man, why does everyone say that?” He groans. “This thing is great on gas, okay? And look at all this trunk space! I mean, if you lived all the way in California—"

“Hey, hey,” you say, holding your hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, that was terrible wording. Did I say cute? I meant cutely efficient. You didn’t let me finish.”

Jungkook laughs again, nodding. “That’s what I thought you meant, yeah.”

He throws your dolphin in the backseat and then opens the passenger side door for you to get in. Your cheeks are hot as you move past him to settle into the seat, giving him a timid smile as he shuts the door behind you. You watch him walk around the front of the vehicle, lit up by a neighboring car’s headlights for just a fraction of a second.

He’s handsome to you while doing the most mundane of things, and your heart hurts at the thought. You couldn’t have a crush on him. He was your coworker for one, and for two, he didn’t live there. He went to school across the country, and he was only home for three incredibly short months. There would be nothing to your relationship, so you couldn’t let yourself fall into the trap of having a crush on someone so, well—unavailable. You pinch yourself hard on the thigh as a seal of reminder: this could not, would not, happen.

The slam of the car door brings you back to reality. Jungkook presses the start button on his dashboard before clicking his seatbelt across his upper body.

“You good?” he says, looking over at you with a furrowed brow. When you nod, he backs the car out of the space, his hand on the back of your headrest for good measure.

You take a few uneven breaths in and out at the action, forcing yourself to remain looking out of the front windshield and to not turn your head towards him even a fraction. You know doing so would put your faces at an incredible proximity, and you what the hell did you just pinch yourself over if you weren’t going to stick with it!

“Any word from Jihyo and Hoseok?” he asks. “It would be cool if we could still get dinner with them afterwards, at least.”

You pull your phone out of your crossbody. The screen lights up to no new unread messages, so you sent Jihyo a quick text in your private chat.

Y/N 6:58PM : Update?

It sends but doesn’t get read immediately in normal Jihyo fashion.

“Hm, maybe the tow truck is there, and she can’t talk,” you say. “I hope everything’s all right.”

“Me too,” Jungkook says. “But this is fun—with just us two.” He pauses, glancing over at you. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, of course,” you say quickly, giving him a smile. “I’m having a great time.”

He seems sated by this information, but you’re not sure why. “I’m glad.”

Jungkook drives you to toward the movie parking lot—a grassy field with neat rows of cars guided by a parking attendant in a bright, orange vest—and Jungkook reverses in the directed spot in the middle row of cars. You can see the screen perfectly, but only out of the back window from the way he parked. That does little to deter your excitement, though.

“The screen is huge!” you say in awe, twisting in your seat.

You look on as it plays movie trailer previews for remaining months of the summer, and the thought flits across your mind just how many you might get to see with Jungkook before your time was up.

“You’ve never been to a drive-in?” Jungkook asks. “We gotta make this one extra special, then.”

You look over at him with an eyebrow quirked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jungkook begins, unlocking the car doors, “I’m pulling out the big guns.”

He hops out and heads to the trunk of the car. You scramble after him, shutting the passenger door behind you and joining him where he stands with the trunk popped open. You watch as he lowers the second row of seats flat after moving the dolphin plushie and a conveniently-packed duvet. You look at him with raised eyebrows as he unfolds the blanket across the flattened seats, making you two a perfect spot to lay in the back of the car while watching the movie.

Jungkook sees the suspicion on your face and chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “I just thought we might want to be comfortable if we’re going to be watching a movie for two hours, you know?”

You ignore him and climb in through the open trunk, settling down with the dolphin as a cushion for your back. “Where’s the popcorn?” you ask, laughing. “This is perfect.”

Jungkook holds up a finger. “One moment, m’lady.”

He takes off from the car and you sit up on your elbows, watching him jog up to a stand at the front of the drive-in parking lot that was selling snacks and drinks for the occasion. You pinch yourself again for good measure when he comes back a few moments later, reminding yourself of your pact. Just because you two were alone, in the back of Jungkook’s car, laying down, about to watch a movie together, alone, didn’t mean anything!

The scent of butter and salt fills your nostrils as Jungkook returns, handing you the popcorn and drinks as he climbs into the trunk and settles beside you. He sits cross-legged and digs into the pockets of his chinos to reveal candy in both hands.

“Sour straws or gummi bears?” he asks.

“Gummi bears, but I want a sour straw, too.”

Jungkook laughs. “Agreed.”

As you two dig in, the beginning of the movie flickers onto the big display screen. People pass by Jungkook’s car on their way to the food stands at the front, and you and Jungkook settle against the giant dolphin propped on the back of the front seats.

“I’ll have to figure out a way to repay you for all of this,” you say quietly in between sips of fizzy Coke. “You keep paying for everything before I can offer.”

“Would you rather us go Dutch?” he asks in the dark.

He’s incredibly close to you—his forearm brushes against yours when he moves because the dolphin only spans so far when you lay it down. It wasn’t the biggest prize, because you didn’t want to carry around a massive plushie, but it certainly wasn’t the smallest they had, either.

On screen, the heroine is introduced going about her daily life. She gets ready, brushes her teeth and hair, puts on her makeup for a normal day at school. When she pulls up to school, a sleek, black motorcycle is parked in her usual spot. A little ways from it, she notices the culprit—an extremely handsome guy holding a bike helmet within the crook of his arm as a swarm of cheerleaders surround him like he’s the coolest thing since sliced bread.

“Yeah,” you say honestly. “I mean, I hate the thought of depending on other people.”

Jungkook turns to look at you as you say this, and when you glance at him, there’s an emotion plastered on his usually friendly face that you can’t pinpoint.

“Consider it our first date,” he says finally, with a shrug. “Then you don’t owe me anything and you’re not depending on me, either.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. “Oh—um—well—”

Jungkook tilts his head down as he bites into a sour straw, pulling the candy away from his clenched teeth so it makes a small pop as it separates. He nudges you with his shoulder that is already leaning against your own.

“Did you see that?” he asks with a chuckle. “The stunt doubles are so noticeable in this movie—they have totally different builds than the main characters.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and manage a breathy laugh. A date. The word echoes within the chambers of your mind, repeating over and over like he just yelled it into a cave at the top of his lungs. It reverberates around your skull until you feel your skin buzzing from the meaning.

So much for your pact when he was saying things like that so casually. God, you couldn’t wait to get Jihyo alone to tell her everything.

The movie continues, and a glance down at your phone lets you know that it’s only thirty minutes in when Jihyo finally texts you back.

Jihyo 7:36PM : Hoseok and I aren’t going to make the movie. We’ll just explore the boardwalk until you two lovebirds are done and then we can get food!

You relay the information to Jungkook—leaving out the lovebirds bit. He nods in understanding.

“I figured they wouldn’t—but I’m glad we’ll get to see them,” he answers. “Hoseok texted me a while ago and said Jihyo’s engine light was on because she slams on her brakes too much. He thinks he has whiplash.”

You giggle. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“My little mom-car doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?”

“I told you I liked it! I would totally pick my kids up from soccer at 6PM on Thursday in this!”

Jungkook throws a half-popped kernel at your forehead. “Rude.”

“You said the mom thing first!”

“Because I’m allowed to pick on Cheryl—she’s mine.”

“Cheryl?!” You dissolve into a fit of giggles. “Please—don’t tell me—”

Jungkook takes the weight of his shoulder pressed against yours and pushes you over with it before you can finish your sentence. You lean away from him but bring the force back with your own shoulder, fighting him for more room on the dolphin-plushie-turned-back-rest.

You two battle for a second, pushing against each other like children until Jungkook lifts his arm up and around you, cocooning you in his warmth and bringing you to rest fully on the right side of his body. He’s leaning a little against the corner of the back of the SUV and you are nestled within his side body, feeling the heat of his chest pressed against your cheek. You breathe in and out before you realize that maybe, you should move.

You go to sit up, but Jungkook says, “Wait, stay. You’re warm.”

It’s not you that’s warm—your face, sure—but Jungkook’s body feels like your own personal heater. You try to relax, leaning against him once again in a better cuddling position with your head resting on Jungkook’s chest, right below his collarbones. You can hear his heartbeat this way—thudding what you think is a little faster than normal underneath the layers of his thin hoodie and T-shirt.

“Are you comfortable? Can you see?”

You’re not sure, but you think he sounds a little breathless—from the sudden change in your positions, or the tussle before, you can’t tell which is the culprit.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting a little so that you’re more on your side rather than just leaning over onto him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” he says, and again, it sounds like there’s a hint of smile in his voice.

You can’t focus on the movie after that. Jungkook is too close, his intoxicating scent swirling into your nostrils with every inhale, your head rising up and down with each breath he takes. This was what friends did, right? This was totally friendly. He just wanted you to be comfortable. You repeat this to yourself as Jungkook’s hand—that was once just dangling over your shoulder—begins to trace soft patterns into your side.

You close your eyes, focusing on slowing the thumping of your heart, timing your inhales to let him know that this is okay. This is totally fine. You aren’t freaking out. You’re just here, enjoying everything that Jungkook had to offer you.

It’s fine. He’s fine. You’re fine. Maybe he was just touchy—some boys were like that, after all. Some friendly relationships included tons of skinship. You just weren’t used to it, and you needed to quickly acquaint yourself with the fact that this was how it would be with him if you continued to hang out.

Before you know it, you’re so lost in your thoughts you don’t catch most of the end of the movie. In fact, you don’t even realize it’s over until the credits are rolling and people are moving around you again, the sounds of car doors and trunks slamming as people get ready to move onto their next activity.

It’s only 9PM, but it’s dark outside—the blues of the sky that had enticed you so much once before had faded to an indescribable navy, a blue so deep that it looked black. If you focused, you could see the minute twinkling of stars past the stadium lights on the outskirts that blink on after the movie is over so everyone could exit in a timely and visible fashion.

Jungkook yawns, patting your side. “I think I fell asleep for a moment—I was so comfortable here.”

He laughs in spite of himself, and you give him a breathless chuckle in return. “Sorry if I made your side sore.” You get off of him, scooting over to give him a little room to sit up straight.

“Sore?” he asks incredulously. “Y/N, you’re like a feather. I’m not that breakable.”

Boy, did you know. Thoughts of his muscular stomach flash in your mind, and you will them away. He watch him reach up to close the trunk as people begin to move outside of the car, cocooning you two back into a comfortable darkness from the tints on the back windows.

“Still.”

“Still, what?” he says. There’s a small silence that ensues. “You’re so nervous around me. Is it me?”

“What?” you say, furrowing your brow. Your skin pricks with the same nervousness that you are about refute. “I mean—”

“I know I’m pretty standoffish at the pool, but I don’t mean to be that way,” he admits. “I just felt like I was in this new place with all of these established relationships and rules. You have Jihyo, and well, Hoseok and I are close, but we’re not best friends.” He pauses. “I was really surprised when Jihyo invited me out with you all.”

“Surprised,” you repeat quietly.

His words absolutely contradict the Jungkook you thought you knew. But maybe that’s how it would always be—you realizing he had his own motives and reasons for being the way he was, and you not understanding a bit of it until he decided to divulge you in them.

“Yeah, surprised,” he nods. “I feel out of place, here. If I’m being honest.”

“But you live here.”

“I don’t have any friends though, because I’m gone for nine months out of the year,” he says, shrugging. “I didn’t have any in high school, either. It was just—I don’t know. I didn’t like it here, so I didn’t see a reason to have any ties.”

You can’t really wrap your head around it, but you realize Jungkook is being vulnerable to you in this moment. You don’t want to make him regret it, so you reach out to him—the closest thing to you is his hand, resting on the duvet between you two—and you run your fingers over the soft skin in a timid, unsure fashion.

“Jihyo and I will never say no to new additions to our friend circle,” you say with a smile. “It gives us reasons not to kill each other if someone else is watching.”

Jungkook chuckles a little, holding your gaze. The trunk of the car is still closed, and most of the crowd has dispersed to other parts of the beach where the boardwalk is still alive and filled with weekend nightlife.

“That’s good to know,” Jungkook says softly, looking down at your hands on the blanket. He slides his underneath yours and links his fingers through the spaces in between.

“Y/N—” he says, leaning closer to you, “—thanks. Really.”

You lean closer as well, feeling the magnetism of your two bodies being pulled together in the dark. Your breath comes out in unmeasured puffs, threatening to give away how nervous you are. You’re glad Jungkook can’t really see you anymore, and you’re certainly glad he can’t hear the unsteady beat of your heart as your faces inch closer and closer. As the quiet of the night cocoons you two like a soft blanket, there is no noise other than your heartbeat in your ears as Jungkook’s mouth hovers over your own.

You feel his unsteady sigh outwards as he says, “Are you sure you’re not—”

You use your remaining courage to stop him before he can finish his sentence, closing the distance between your mouths into a soft, sweet kiss. It stays that way for a moment—closed-mouth and innocent—before Jungkook brings his hand to the back of your head and deepens it, pressing his mouth hard against your own in a way that is a command all in its own.

Your lips part involuntarily and Jungkook’s tongue presses softly against the ridge of your mouth, tracing the outline until he is exploring the inside with ease and expertise. As your tongues lace together, you find yourself placing heavy hands on his chest, slightly wrinkling the collar of his shirt with your nails before you slide your hands up and over his shoulders and hook them together behind his neck.

Your head tilts to the right and you push back against him, following the energy and putting it into the most passionate kissing session you’ve had—well, ever. Jungkook places his hands on your hips and pulls you over him so that you are straddling his waist, his experience showing as he places you right on top of his hardening member. You have no choice but to feel it between your thighs and the thin material of your bike shorts—a decision you certainly didn’t realize would come in handy when you’d picked them out a few hours ago in your bedroom closet.

You two kiss and kiss and kiss, getting lost within each other for what feels like hours. You can’t allow yourself to disassociate and think about anything other than what was happening in the moment—although there was a part of your brain that couldn’t believe it was happening, surely.

You were kissing Jungkook. Jungkook was kissing you—no, it was more than that. He was touching you: his hands making a lazy trail up your back, in between your shoulder blades and over the hump of your shoulders until they entangled in your hair and kept your mouth criminal to his. He was breathing you in: making a trail away from your mouth, down your jaw and neck, where he settled on sucking small, reddened splotches into the thin skin just around the collar of your pullover. You want more of him, but more would have to wait.

Jungkook pauses underneath you, much more intact with the real world than you are because he shushes you politely so that you can hear it: the tell-tale sound of your phone humming the vibrations of an incoming call.

“It’s Jihyo,” he says in the darkness, allowing the brightness of your screen to illuminate your faces, inches apart. He hands it to you, and you clear your throat in an attempt to sound less breathless than you actually are as you greet your friend.

“Where are you?” she asks—but it sounds more like a demand. “I know the movie is over by now. You haven’t answered my texts. Are you okay?”

“What?” you say but shake your head. “I’m fine, sorry. Jungkook and I were trying to find our way out of the theatre parking lot. It’s really crowded over here so we had to wait for our turn.”

In the light of your phone pressed against your cheek, you can just barely make out Jungkook’s knowing smirk in the dark.

“Hoseok and I are waiting at Pier 14. Did you two still want to get dinner?”

Jungkook nods in answer, leaning forward a little to press his lips softly against the center of your throat while you talk. You take a calming breath in and out as he mouths at the skin there, swiping his tongue over the space lightly before continuing to kiss away any of your troubles. You close your eyes again, feeling like you’re disappearing under his soft touch before you realize Jihyo is still waiting on your answer.

“Dinner sounds good,” you manage. “Text me an address—you and Hoseok can choose. I don’t care.”

You hang up before she can protest. Your mouth hovers over Jungkook’s, lips pressed together in a solid line.

“That wasn’t very nice,” you admonish him, placing your hands on his firm shoulders. “I was trying to talk.”

“I know,” he says in a soft tone, breathing out a laugh. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better.”

He gives you one last lingering kiss—one that steals the breath from your lungs and makes you feel lightheaded before he lets you go. You feel warm all over as you two crawl toward the front of his car, returning to your seats while stealing knowing glances at each other.

You don’t want to dwell on the thoughts too much, but a lot had changed in the last hour that you couldn’t even wrap your head around, much less understand and come to accept. Your lips tingle as your mind flies through the events again, attempting to see you and Jungkook from a third-person perspective in your mind, but really just focusing on the way it felt when he was kissing you, touching you, breathing you in.

You knew one thing for certain, though: your pact with yourself was up. You weren’t just diving into the shallow anymore. You were in the deep end.

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fic #bts scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts butter #bts jungkook #honeyedhoseok #blue

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desisapphicx · 2 years

Text

Midnight Ruin

Moodboard

Prologue

Akanksha takes a long drag of her even longer black-filtered cigarette. She could feel the eyes on her back. "What?" She asks the person; whose eyes keep drilling her. She takes her gaze off the street -- the view from her window is buzzing with people, automatons, and everything in between. Her ears pick up those distinct yet vague sale announcements from the local vendors and the bustling sounds of automated engines. The clear sky is coloured with a pinkish-orange hue; contradicting Akanksha's dark cloudy thoughts.

She steps away from the window ledge, rolls her shoulders back, and stretches her arms, trying to relieve the cramps that have been bothering her for quite some time. Her slender fingers rake through her dark brown hair and mould them into a loose bun around the thin gold fountain pen, which she found clipped to her notepad near the window. She tucks the ends of her sea-green chiffon saree into her saree's waistline and takes one last look at the street from her window before she turns around.

"I am just saying, you shouldn't have done that," says Kesar, her childhood friend. His brows are in a knot, and worry lines crease his forehead; he makes no effort to hide his thoughts but the only person to whom those emotions are aimed at; is ignoring his existence, or at least pretending to not notice. He takes in the ambience of the huge room; high-hanging oil lamps, and mechanical gaslights, illuminate the once dark space - except for the gloomy corners encompassing the room. The tall and sturdy pillars bore the weight of the soaring ceilings. Bronze pot humidifiers at distinct points in the room, scattering the wisps of wild jasmine, sweet lavender, and musky sandalwood, give the room, a more mystifying aura; but the intense essence of tar and nicotine of Akanksha's smoke pipe tardily dominates them.

Akanksha turns around, her sharp chestnut eyes, finding the small round clay pot covered in an antique painting -- an expensive birthday gift from her mother. The gift would've eventually made its place on some museum shelf; if not for her amma -- she couldn't care less for some flashy piece that symbolized her mother's gaudy love; hence the pricey ashtray.

She taps at her filter, and the "ashtray" laying on her desk near the window collects the remains of her smoke. She takes one long puff and mushes the cigarette.

The stern woman glides toward her bookshelf, and picks up the book she recently started reading, 'Women of Mughal Empire', she searches for another fresh stick in her maroon tin box that she usually keeps near her stacks of books, empty silver insides of the metal case stares back at her, seems like she forgot to restock. Maybe she shouldn't have mushed what was supposed to be her last smoke. "Shit" she mutters, and keeps checking her drawers for that spare paper-rolled tobacco, but no luck.

"AK"

Kesar keeps on calling her, but his words fall on deaf ears.

Thin sweat trails from her temple to her jawline, and makes its final race to her chest, the moisture on her saree dissipating into a dark patch. It could be the humidity of the room or the lack of nicotine in her system; even though she just inhaled one whole smoke, well, not whole but almost, now she urgently needs another, to calm her nerves; her friend has brought back those overwhelming thoughts, from which she tried to escape, just a few hours ago.

"Do you have extra?" She waves around her long piped filter.

"Um... no." He answers. She keeps the filter on her bookshelf and heads out of her room to the hallway and calls for, "Sheela"..... "Sheela" her words rivet back at her.

Where did everyone go?

She grunts, her nerves are literally on edge; she can't wait around for anyone to quench her addiction; so, self-reliance it is.

Her father's office, which is at the end of the dark hallway, that's where her jittery legs take her. There on his desk, she finds his cigars neatly packed in a small tin box; she quickly lights one. The spice flavour instantly hits her taste buds; usually, she is not one for that pungent essence. But, screw it, desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Are you done?" Kesar is standing near the door frame. She lifts her head and squints at him. He is a tall figure standing at 6'2", and his broad shoulders block all of the light coming from the hallway. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration and takes out the rolled newspaper from a deep pocket of his white kurta, which complements his brown skin, and throws it on the desk.

Her gaze swiftly moved from him to the paper. Resting her smoke stick on her father's ashtray, she takes a seat in his leathered office chair, unfolds the paper, and turns the knob of the table's oil lamp, illuminating the desk. She reads out the bold headline from the local evening daily, 'Is Reddy's prodigy at the centre of College Killings?' She nods to herself and looks back at Kesar.

After the lack of response, he asks her, "Aren't you worried?"

"Worried about?"

"You don't seem to get it. Do you?" She knows what he's talking about, but she'd like to hear it from him.

"Speak plainly, Kez"

"You, being a part of the investigation" he throws his hands around, clearly annoyed by her nonchalance.

"No, I am not scared, unlike you." She snorts and continues- "Tell me, Kez. Don't you want me to be free of these sickening claims?"

"Of course. I want that for you, my bondhu. But, you're being short-sighted here."

"Believe whatever you want, I'll prove my innocence by any means" Akanksha flares her nose. Her breathing gets agitated as the minutes go by; she doesn't understand how her friend is not backing her up.

"AK, you're not listening to yourself, this will only come back to you"

She quirks her eyebrow in question, to which her friend says, "You're a protham suspect, you'll be like a walking target if you get involved in this investigation"

"No, Kez. This will only show how I am still here, ready for whatever they hurl at me. I am not wavering my stance"

"Tor matha kharap. I appreciate your confidence but what part of being a suspect, you don't get?" He sighs in frustration.

"No suspect.." he begins; but by the look on her face, he quickly stammers to correct- "Sorry, no possible or alleged suspect gets involved in the investigation, it will look like you're here to not clear your name but the evidence." She cannot believe that he is sputtering such nonsense, and what hurts her, even more, is that her friend doesn't believe in her innocence.

"I can't believe you just said that" before he can explain himself, she raises her hand, stopping him from blabbering, even more, absurdity. "You may not have faith in me, but I am confident enough about what I am doing"

"If you're done, you can leave." She has nothing more to offer to this conversation.

"AK" he calls for her, but she looks straight ahead; refusing to glance at him. He nods to himself, accepting defeat, one last time he tries - "I didn't mean to offend you in any way, aamaye khoma korben. I was just looking out for you" he gets up and makes his way to the office's mahogany door.

But, then he comes across a dark silhouette. He asks- "What is she doing here?" His words are brimmed with shock and anger.

"Hello to you too, Kesar." says the hoarse voice.

xxx

A/n: Hey everyone. I just want to say that this fiction is set in the 1940s and in an alternative universe; so, much of the history will not be here for obvious reasons. This is not a politically oriented story, but the element may be used as a background and only that.

P.S.: Also, I am a non-Bangla speaker. I have used the help of google and google translate; for one of my characters, so if you find any discrepancies you can message me or comment here with the corrections.

P.S.S: I have not edited this thoroughly, I was in a bit rush, if you come to find any grammatical errors, please excuse me. I will edit this some other day. The updates will be slower, just so you know.

Thanks for giving this a read :)

Happy Pride!!! 🏳️‍🌈

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appeypie · 3 years

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i forgot to announce this here! my shop has some cool new things!! :D plus i restocked my majora’s mask prints :) check it out if you like!

#kiu #kid icarus #tf2 #team fortress 2 #medic #etsy #sticker shop #majoras mask #vocaloid

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amberskywrites · 3 years

Text

Eternal

Chapter 11 - Key Word Is Almost

Chapter 1 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 12 || Masterpost | AO3 Link | FF.net Link

Updates: Once a week, either very very late Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday

Fandom / Genre: Nanatsu no Taizai (Seven Deadly Sins) / Canon-Divergent and Hurt/Comfort

Pairings: Meliodas/Elizabeth, Zeldris/Gelda, Meliodas & Zeldris & Elizabeth & Gelda

Overall Story Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Canon-typical violence, Canonical character death, Canon temporary character death, Cursed characters, lmk if I need to add anything else!

Chapter Warnings: Mention of a past character’s injury and a bug, please lmk if I need to add anything else!

Story Summary:

Eternal…

life.

reincarnation.

silence.

and chains.

For 3,000 long and painful years, these four have been doing all they can to lift their curses. They have failed, again and again and again. With only a sliver of hope left, they try once more.

Or, what if Zeldris accepted Meliodas’ offer to go with him 3,000 years ago?

“Alright! We’ll be arriving at the next town in the hour,” Meliodas announced.

Gelda held up a finger and signed. “Where?”

Meliodas was positively beaming. “Bernia Village!”

Zeldris choked on the water he was drinking, while Gelda joined her brother-in-law in grinning. Elizabeth, Hawk, and Ban shared a confused look.

“Bernia?” Zeldris repeated.

“Yep!”

The younger brother groaned, letting his head drop to the counter. Gelda patted his head, but her grin was unwavering.

“What’s wrong with Bernia?” Elizabeth asked.

“Absolutely nothing!”

Ban’s face scrunched up slightly. “Wait, didn’t you mention something happening in Bernia a few years before the Sins were formed?” He glanced at the blonde. “I vaguely remember Merlin having a similar reaction.”

“No you don’t.”

Zeldris huffed, pushing himself up. “He absolutely does, because while Bernia has the most amazing alcohol to ever grace this world, Merlin very much does not like what happened there fifteen years ago anymore than I do.”

Gelda’s grin faltered, and she let her hand fall to Zeldris’, giving it a squeeze.

“What happened in Bernia?” Hawk asked. “You’ve never looked this miserable to go anywhere!”

Meliodas waved his hand dismissively, his own smile faded. “Nothing too bad-” Gelda whacked him upside the head, “-okay so it was a small incident, but most of the people there forgave and forgot about it!” Meliodas rubbed the back of his head, and glared lightly at Gelda.

“That explains nothing!” huffed Hawk.

“Meliodas here, gave us all heart attacks, by drinking all of Bernia’s ale - almost fifty barrels I think, maybe more - and almost died of alcohol poisoning,” Zeldris explained, glaring with much more force at Meliodas. Meliodas shrunk under his gaze, looking a mix of sheepish and guilty.

All heads turned to the blonde, eyes wide except for the only other two people who had been there, one of which looked annoyed and the other offering a slightly apologetic expression - to whom she was directing it none of them had a clue.

The silence was suffocating for about an entire minute before Ban clapped his hands together.

“O-kay,” he said slowly, “we’ll keep a close eye on the captain’s drinks.” He grinned. “Frankly, I didn’t think the captain could get drunk. It took fifty barrels?”

Gelda huffed silently, a fond smile slowly forming on her face as she nodded.

“Truly, a wonder it only took that much,” Zeldris muttered, to which Gelda appeared to chuckle and Meliodas rubbed his neck, truly sheepish this time.

“Anyways, what matters is we can restock on Bernia ale here, and get Elizabeth some new clothes!” Meliodas was once again grinning.

“You didn’t have a spare uniform?” Hawk asked, for what is the dozenth time since he spotted Elizabeth in Meliodas’ clothes, the oversized baggy white shirt and equally baggy but short on her green pants making Elizabeth look a mix of smaller and taller than she really was. It had taken almost an hour to calm Hawk down.

“Not in Elizabeth’s size. Gelda’s, yes, but…” Meliodas trailed off.

“But what?”

“But do you really want Elizabeth in oversized clothes that are far more revealing than what she has on now?” Zeldris finished Meliodas’ train of thought.

Hawk faltered, huffed again, but conceded that it was probably a bad idea.

“Exactly! We can get fabric for new uniforms for her, and she can pick out some other clothes that she may want as well.”

Ban raised a brow. “We’re not all going to shop for dresses though, right? Cause Captain, don’t think it really fits some of us.”

Meliodas rolled his eyes. “We’re going to restock supplies, along with Hawk and Zel, while Gelda goes with Elizabeth.” He glanced around, smiling confidently. “That sound good?”

Elizabeth and Gelda glanced at each other, and Gelda shrugged, though offered a small smile and held up her notepad. Elizabeth smiled as well and nodded. “All good to us.”

It didn’t take much longer to get to Bernia Village. Mama Hawk dug into the ground as she always did, the tavern rocking. Elizabeth prided herself on not completely losing her balance and only stumbling, especially when the shaking sent Ban lurching into one of the tables.

Mama Hawk settled, Gelda surrounded herself once again in a veil of darkness - Elizabeth was definitely curious as to both how she could do that and why, and made a mental note to ask sometime - and Meliodas distributed some money for everyone to buy what they’d need. Elizabeth was about to protest, noticing that Meliodas definitely gave her and Gelda more than he gave everyone else, but Gelda held a finger to her lips, smiling, and she winked at Elizabeth. Elizabeth huffed a laugh but listened, stuffing her hands into the pockets on her shirt.

Any plans of shopping disappeared once they actually got into town.

“Where is everyone?” Hawk asked. “It’s like a ghost town!”

Zeldris’ brow furrowed. “Not exactly, Hawk.”

“It is pretty quiet…” Elizabeth mumbled.

“Would people live in a place with no more water?” Ban gestured to what once was a river, frowning. “This was their main source, right?”

“It was.” Meliodas began walking quicker, further into town. “But there may still be someone to explain things.”

“Don’t know Capt’n, looks and sounds like an empty-” Ban cut himself off, his own brows furrowing. Elizabeth was about to question him, too, when just like in Dalmary she finally started to hear some sort of commotion.

“Oh great,” she mumbled as the brothers and Ban began to run towards the commotion. Elizabeth glanced at Hawk. “Hasn’t even been a day and we’re doing this all over again.”

Gelda seemed to laugh, shaking her head and signing before lifting up the ground to catch up with the others. Elizabeth glanced at Hawk.

“She says hopefully without the bugs.”

Elizabeth chuckled, silently agreeing, and took a deep breath. She chased after them, with Hawk hot on her tail.

They both slowed once they reached the others, standing outside a mass of people in what Elizabeth could only assume to be the town square. She leaned onto Hawk, catching her breath. She frowned, unable to really hear anything other than people arguing. She flinched as curses were spat into the air as though they were a mantra.

“Can you see what’s going on?” Elizabeth asked, glancing between the ex-Holy Knights, Zeldris, and Gelda. Well, mostly Ban and Gelda - they had a better chance at seeing over the crowd.

Gelda shook her head, floating just a bit higher and squinting. Elizabeth’s frown deepened. She realized Gelda might not be able to see too clearly with the darkness around her, and probably didn’t want to risk sun exposure to see more clearly.

Zeldris huffed and tapped someone on the shoulder. The person who turned was an old man, with shoulders hunched and one of the most resigned faces Elizabeth had ever seen.

“What’s going on here?” Zeldris asked.

“Ah… a… a Holy Knight… he struck his sword into the ground, he was angered and struck his sword in the ground.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat.

Meliodas leaned on Zeldris, shoving his brother down slightly. “A Holy Knight?” He spared a glance to Elizabeth.

The old man hummed quietly. “You might wish to take a look for yourself, if you don’t believe me.” He sighed heavily. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

Zeldris pushed Meliodas off him. “We can take a look. Not sure what we can do. But no one can pull out the sword?” The man shook his head.

“I am afraid not.” He pointed towards where the crowd was thickest. “The sword is in the center of town. It’s uh, it’s stopped our water. People have begun packing, intending to move since no one knows how to remove the sword.” He took a deep breath. “If you need anything, please feel free to find me.”

“Your name…?” Zeldris asked.

“Just ask anyone for the Headman.”

“Alright, thank you sir,” Meliodas flashed the man a small smile. The Headman nodded before wandering away. “Alright! Let’s go see this sword.”

Before anyone could protest, Meliodas had grabbed Zeldris’ shoulders and started to make their way through the crowd, Meliodas using his younger brother almost as a shield to nudge people out of the way. The others followed, worming their way through the increasing number of arguing townspeople.

They finally broke through, Zeldris once again shoving Meliodas away from him with a huff. Elizabeth glanced around, watching some people trying to pull the sword out. The sword didn’t move an inch.

It felt weird, though Elizabeth couldn’t place why.

“Wonder what got a Holy Knight so huffy that he did this,” Hawk said. Ban hummed lowly, and rolled his eyes.

“Easy to rile up Holy Knights nowadays, really. Testy bastards.”

Hawk glanced up at him. “Weren’t you one before?”

Ban grinned. “Yep!”

Zeldris nodded. “He has a point.” Meliodas huffed, and Zeldris raised a brow at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Sin of Wrath,” he whispered, voice dripping with sarcasm, “are you going to disagree?”

Meliodas looked like he was about to retort, but decided against it, though that didn’t stop him from grumbling slightly.

Hawk rolled his eyes. “That still doesn’t explain what happened, though.”

Before anything else could be done, however, a little kid stood proudly - well, Elizabeth assumed it was proudly, with how the kid puffed out his chest with a hand on his hip, voice booming over the crowd of angered adults - and his words made them all pause in any attempt to continue finding out what happened.

“What’s with all this groaning? So some Holy Knight’s sword is stuck in the ground, this is nothing! It’d be a piece of cake for my buddies, the Seven Deadly Sins!”

“Have you ever seen that pipsqueak, Capt’n?” Ban mumbled, leaning down to the blonde’s height. Meliodas shook his head, frowning only just slightly.

The kid jumped as an older woman stepped forward, almost scowling at him. “That’s enough, Mead! Whose fault is it that we’re in this fix? Of all the things you could say, and you bring up those criminals?!”

Elizabeth flinched at her words, glancing around nervously. Gelda stepped closer, Elizabeth being slightly covered by the veil of shadow, and gently clasped Elizabeth’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. Zeldris crossed his arms, glancing at Meliodas before turning back to the boy, a small but almost nonexistent frown on his face.

Others were quick to join in scolding the boy.

“She’s right! Don’t make the Holy Knight any angrier!”

“Do you hate us that much?!”

The boy - Mead - faltered, hands balling at his sides, and Elizabeth felt her heart squeeze. “That- that’s not why I did it!” His clenched fists trembled as he looked around.

“We can only take so much of your mischief and lies!”

“You’re a jerk, Mead!”

The last one, spat by another kid who couldn’t be any older than Mead, was accompanied by a poorly aimed rock.

Elizabeth’s hands flew to her mouth as it collided with Meliodas’ face - though it would have hit Zeldris, had he not pulled his elder brother in the way. Hawk tensed, Ban failed to hide his snicker in a cough, and Gelda squeezed Elizabeth’s shoulder just that little bit tighter.

Mead’s face scrunched up. “I hate you guys!” he screamed.

“Well we hate you more!” cried some other kid, yet another rock in hand. Meliodas, with a face tinged red from the first rock, grabbed Mead by the shoulders and began pushing the boy back through the crowd, and only moved faster as more rocks were thrown. Zeldris muttered a curse as Meliodas dashed at what couldn’t be a human speed, stiffening and face contorting slightly as though he’d just been slapped, then ran after the blonde as fast as he could.

Ban watched the two go before looking at the others, a brow raised. Gelda offered a half-hearted shrug. She signed to him, finally releasing Elizabeth to do so.

“You should go too.”

He gave a soft hum before nodding and jogging back to the tavern.

Hawk sighed, watching Ban leave as well. “I guess we picked a lousy time to come.”

The Headman was there again, and sighed heavily as the torrent of rocks subsided. “He’s an honest, earnest lad, deep down.”

Elizabeth startled, brows creasing and turning to the Headman. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that sucked…” Meliodas sighed, crossing his arms. Mead’s head rested on a table, staring blankly ahead. Zeldris sat on a different table, Ban having retreated into the kitchen. The black-haired brother huffed a laugh.

“You think?”

Meliodas ignored him. “What was all that about, kiddo?”

“You’re a kid, too!”

“I’m really not.”

“He really isn’t,” Zeldris agreed.

Mead took a better look around. “What is this place? A tavern?”

“My place - the Boar Hat.”

Mead frowned, sitting up a little more. “I’m hungry.”

The blonde glanced towards the kitchen. “If you answer my questions, you’ll get food.” Mead grinned, and Meliodas narrowed his eyes at him as the kid leaned back.

“Food, then I’ll talk.”

Meliodas groaned softly, before also retreating to the kitchen. Zeldris watched with a tilted head and a small frown, and both he and Mead flinched as there was the unmistakable sound of dozens of culinary tools clattering to the floor, along with someone smacking against a wall not at all gently. Mead looked at Zeldris with wide eyes, though Zeldris just huffed again and leaned back.

“You fix what you break!” Zeldris yelled, and that seemed to quiet whatever was going on in the back.

Well, quiet for Mead. Zeldris could still hear Meliodas and Ban arguing in whispers about if it was alright to feed him Meliodas’ cooking. Zeldris didn’t pay enough attention to hear what conclusion they came up with.

Soon enough though, food was being placed in front of Mead. Zeldris looked at it skeptically, while Mead’s eyes were wide and mouth watering at the sight. Ban didn’t look all that happy stepping out of the kitchen, either, placing a different plate on the other side of the table. Meliodas had gone to the bar to pour himself a drink, smiling.

Sure enough, after the first bite from the one in front of him, Mead’s eyes widened even further and he spat out whatever horror was assaulting his tongue.

Meliodas’ grin widened. “Didn’t say I’d give you good food! Now,” Meliodas returned to Mead’s table and sat across from him, not touching the food Ban had placed, “was that true, you being friends with the Seven Deadly Sins?”

Mead looked absolutely miserable, and Ban took a rare pity on the boy, changing out whatever Meliodas had given him with something that was most definitely edible. Mead looked at it warily, looking between the three strange men with a lot less trust. Zeldris smiled reassuringly.

“That one will taste better, give it a try and answer as you eat.”

He did just that, relaxing and practically melting into his seat at Ban’s food. Mead ate for a little while, Meliodas pouting slightly and hiding it behind his tankard since his little “prank” (Zeldris would consider it attempted poisoning) didn’t have much of an impact, though before he could answer, the bell above the door rang.

Elizabeth, Hawk, and Gelda walked in - Gelda’s darkness evaporating around her once in the tavern. She exchanged a look with Zeldris, and he gave her a thumbs up. She may or may not have shoved Meliodas a tiny bit as she passed him, though, just enough to get him to almost spill his Bernia Ale. As Hawk closed the door, Elizabeth made her way over to the boy.

“Mead,” she said, leaning down with hands on her hips and what could have possibly been her attempt at a stern expression on her face, “I’ve heard you’re quite a prankster. The Headman told me all about you.”

Mead’s anxious face fell into a mix of confusion, annoyance, and disappointment. “What’s with you, lady? Who do you think you are?” he grumbled.

The princess smiled gently, settling onto her knees. “I played many pranks when I was little as well, and often found my father scolding me for them.” Mead held his head higher, practically rolling his eyes.

“So?”

Elizabeth tilted her head, expression softening even more. “I did it to get his attention. He isn’t my real father, you see. I tried to scare him once, and climbed a really tall tree… he turned so pale, and climbed up after me. He’d never climbed one in his life… He got hurt, not seriously, but… I still remember it, as though it were yesterday. If Father had died that day… I…” Elizabeth trailed off, staring at the ground with a sad smile.

Meliodas’ breath had hitched, and he pretended to be more interested in his beer than the story Elizabeth had just finished. Goddesses above, he remembered that day too, hearing from some knight what had happened… Meliodas took a swig of the ale to hide his frown.

Mead had turned back to the table, lip wobbling and eyes wide. “I don’t lie just to get a rise out of people either…”

Elizabeth stood and placed a gentle hand on his back, her small smile never wavering. “Will you tell me about it?”

He took a deep breath, and began explaining his story. His eyes watered throughout, though Elizabeth, Hawk, and Ban seemed to be the only ones paying attention. Not that the others were meaning to ignore him, though.

Gelda was frowning deeply, listening to the boy, and looked between her husband and in-law carefully. Meliodas was gripping his tankard so tightly, his knuckles were paling, and Zeldris’ hand twitched in her grasp. She gave it a gentle squeeze, remembering herself of the days when their lives had been like that, of trying to get any kind of attention from their bastard father - or mentors they may have had - any way they could.

Tears began to slip down Mead’s cheeks, and Gelda felt an urge to wipe them away and cradle the boy.

“Is that why you put the bug in the Holy Knight’s drink?” Elizabeth asked softly as Mead wiped at his eyes furiously.

Mead slammed his hands down. “No! He treated everyone like crap!” He took a deep breath, though it did nothing to steady his breathing. “Everyone in the village goes through a lot of time and trouble to make great ale, and he just insulted them all!” His tears began to slow, his face red from the crying and rage boiling under his skin, rage that shouldn’t belong to a child. “Holy Knights are no-good bastards!” Mead spat.

“And you being friends with the Seven Deadly Sins?” Meliodas asked again. He pointedly ignored the glares sent his way by both Zeldris and Gelda.

Mead looked down at his food, now very cold, though his appetite was gone anyway. “I lied,” he mumbled.

Meliodas hummed softly. “My hopes were up a little, honestly… ah well.”

Elizabeth tilted her head, frowning. “But why would you lie about something like that?”

“W-well… if the Seven Deadly Sins are being hunted by evil Holy Knights… then aren’t- aren’t they the good guys?”

Elizabeth and Hawk glanced between Meliodas and Ban, Meliodas who was watching Mead with a barely there smile and Ban who was decidedly not looking at anyone - proud as he may be to be in the Sins, he was only an idiot to admit that kind of thing while blackout drunk, thank you.

Zeldris sighed softly. “Mead, do you remember what the Holy Knight looked like?”

Mead shook his head. “S-sorry…”

Ban walked over and ruffled Mead’s hair. “It’s alright, kid.” He looked to Meliodas. “Well Cap, you gonna go help these people?”

“Huh?” Mead looked between the two, struggling to look up at Ban as his hand was still planted firmly on the kid’s head.

Meliodas raised a brow at him. “Me?”

“Yeah, you’re the one with morals-” he said the word as though it were the most disgusting thing to exist, “-so it only makes sense.”

Meliodas huffed, and downed the rest of his drink.

Elizabeth glanced around, almost as confused as Mead, as a silence settled over them for just a moment. Meliodas’ tankard hit the table and he pushed himself up.

“Alrighty then!”

As if there was any other option for him.

They did get to go shopping for supplies. After Meliodas removed the sword, of course.

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