#id have drawn more but i ran out of space :(

[rowanix]

*rolls up to the fandom 9 years late with starbucks* yo i finally listened to the silly dnd podcast here are some doodles while i try and figure out how to draw them

[citadelofmythoughts]

Different anon here, and not to keep talking about BS lol but over the years and seeing lots of Feelings about them, they way I’ve come to see the purpose of Sun in Blake’s story is that he was a Safe Crush.

You are Blake, recently leaving your mentor partner unhealthy relationship of four to five years. Assuming she had run around the forest during their initiation she didn’t find anyone she wanted to partner with until she saw Yang fighting. And as they grow closer, well, ID be pretty scared if I found myself developing feelings for ANOTHER partner after the last one turned out the way it did. They are different ppl yes but the brain will make connections out of anything. Last partner bad, in order to keep new partner as a normal person in my life I must stay just friends.

In comes Sun, who is a Faunus like Adam with physical features he can’t easily hide (the horns and then the tail) who is so unserious and goofy. Blake is stronger now and that’s not to say ppl who act kind also can’t manipulate you, but Sun was so shallow and surface level that he was an open book. He thought she was cute and knew she was a Faunus and that’s why he was drawn to her. Not bc she was the WF leaders daughter or bc of her semblance or use to him. Just a cute girl.

And I think she needed that. She needed normal teenage crush feelings. A goofy guy who asks her to the dance and winks at her after winning a match. Something simple and something safe.

Adam Yang and Sun do not have A Lot in common, but you can make connections that have enough similarities that show why Blake was drawn to them, why she would be nervous about them, and ultimately who her feelings ran deeper for. Because while she was having normal crush feelings for Sun, Yang as her friend and partner was getting to the root of things. Burning the Candle is iconic bc Yang opens up to Blake, compares their situations with versing about a certain thing without making it all about her or dismissing Blake’s concerns. She wants her to rest, not give up.

Where Sun, in a situation that on the surface is similar, misses the mark is bc he doesn’t give Blake space. He assumes she’s going to stop the WF and comes along in secret to help her. While his intentions are good he doesn’t understand Blake and didn’t ask her. He’s a good friend but he’s messy with it. He’s still seeing things in a shallow way. And while I do think he shows greater depth after his injury when he compares his situation to Yang’s, his purpose is to be the stand-in.

When Yang got hurt Blake left to keep her safe. She can’t run away from Sun. I know a lot of ppl don’t like him or his presence in the arc and that’s totally valid. He oversteps a lot. But for his purpose of being the Friend who wants to help who will stick up for her even if they get hurt, bc the point is to fight together, I enjoy him there for that. Some say she didn’t need him there to learn that but I think with Ilia’s arc being white gang centric and not “friend / love interest I’m afraid of hurting” focused, she would’ve needed something else to show HER that not only was she worth staying for, but getting hurt by standing beside her wasn’t a punishment.

And then we have volume 6, where Sun says his goodbyes and removes himself from Blake’s story for now. The safe crush saw the writing on the wall and even in V5 he was like “LOOK WHOS HERE”. Sun in canon has no claim over Blake and he never thought he did. He liked her yes, but at the end of the day he saw that her feelings were for Yang and he was more than fine with it.

Sun was a safe counterpart to Adam and training wheels for the V6 fight with Yang Blake and Adam. His purpose is to be the literal blueprint for “Your friends and loved ones fight with you, and would rather be hurt helping you than protected by you leaving. Which hurts much more”.

That is how I view the BS elements in the show, a crush that helps Blake get more comfortable until she stands on her own and makes that deliberate choice with Yang in V6 to face Adam head on. Just like in real life other ppl and our relationships with them shape us and help us learn about ourselves and grow. Sun was a growing element for her, not her permanent destination, which is why I enjoy their relationship and hate so much his mischaracterization as someone owed love. SUN does think he’s owed anything so why do other ppl place that on him. He knows his role in Blake’s life and he’s happy about it

That's honestly a nice way of looking at it all.

My general attitude toward him to the contrary, I don't hate Sun, he was there as a friend when Blake needed him and knew that it wasn't gonna work out between them romantically and backed the fuck off which was the right thing to do.

[istherewifiinhell]

oh RIGHT lol. what have we all been waiting for. dumesh

MEET CUTE DATE, MEET CUTE DATE

[no alt text, ids below] cannot spell the main character name for the life of me and im not changing it. enjoy. also this is a PRO fucking the lion space. COOL

Winged lion: what are you, a total idiot?

Laois confused/nervous: Wait, Does that mean that marcille was a succubus?

Lion, annoyed: Don't you have a quest that needs completeing!? This is no time to get mired in some silly trap!

Laois: Err, well... Wait who are you?

Lion, cutely suprised "Oh, Right."

^make ur characters a little lame school of righting (ADORING HIM. CUTE)

Laois bashful, fidgeting: I-I'm not sure what to say to that... Lion, sighing: You're still hesitant?

^ um. um.

Laois: Is this also a dream? Lion laying on the bed "this is a hypothetical situation that uses your dream as its foundation"

^i think a lion should come and explain the non literal dream spaces in all medias.

Walking down a hall. Laois, startled: Who are all these people?

Lion, almost raised brow look: They're /your people/, of course.

Laois looks striken when a servant asks him what kind of monster egg omelet he wants. Lion looking at them curiously. Laois making a blushy admitting face: Wyvern...

Lion looking at him: He didn't even need time to think.

Lion, dangling alluringly over vision marcille: It looks like she's taken charge of most of the dungeon planning.

^hot cat

Laois partly cut off: And harmless monsters... Is something like that even possible?

Lion, as if closed eyed smiling: What are you so surprised about? Thistle ordered the monsters not to attack the citizens of his own country, did he not? If the lord wills it, the dungeon will obey.

Lion leaning up to Laois who's alarmed: I am simply "Power." The power to grant the wishes of the lord of the dungeon.

1. Laois looking stunned at barometz fruit. Thinks "It's still about an embryo?" Takes a luciously illustrated bite of it, juice dripping. 2. Laois offering the fruit to Lion, mouth open in ancipation. Taking a delicate bite, juice driping also.

^indirect kiss........ fruit eating innuendo. many things happening here.

Lion, closed eye smile: But if I'm watching your group eating all that food, I can't help but be smitten by it! You're eating such delicious things, day in and day out! Laois smiles/laughs, hand to his mouth.

^hi why is that literally just so cute

Laois thinking, and lion looking curiously at him. "I wonder if the mad sorcerer also ran ito these sorts of problems. At first, he must have tried his best to protect the subjects of this kingdom... But while trying to mend all these little issues.

^why so handsomely drawn. hmm??

tiny cute drawings. Lion looking with one big eye. "so, are you fd up with it yet?" laois making the pensive emoji face "hmm"

^microorganisms 🥺 and 😔

real world izutsumi feeding laois the succubus milk, hes sucking on the spoon, she seems to be immiating his expression. Lion has a paw to his face "it seems like ou time together is coming to an end."

^he said :3c

Romantically framed illustration, Lion getting into laois face. Laois in a more shy/withdrawing stance. Lion: I'll be waiting for you, Laois.

^like... like...... okay then

[starlooove]

Ok I ran out of tag space for damidjinn in the tags I have mixed thoughts but what’s appealing to me is that they’re both from heavily “sheltered” (in terms of human connection) toxic environments but wheras Damian was raised to rule djinn was raised to serve and the way the other titans and if more fans read it ID assume fans in general react to them is a direct reflection of acceptable trauma. I think the both of them resenting eachother a bit (djinn for Damian’s freedom to be mean and Damian because everyone likes her for being a doormat basically) yet being drawn to eachother because the other emulates how they want to be perceived to an extent (for me bc I like toxicity it gets into the realm of like. Comparing traumas but they’re like immature hurt children so they grow duh don’t call paw patrol) and also them like. For me I see them Actively exploring their sexualities and relationships to other people while always having eachother to fall back onto and when it gets bad it gets BAD but when it’s good it’s good and at some points it’s literally just familiarity holding them together and at other points it’s like how could they be apart? Basically it could be great but canonically it’s not even okay

[gripes-withthesun]

Solitaire's the only game in town

This idea just wouldn't leave me so I had to get it out of my head. I don't really draw much, especially not digitally, the sketches done here were basically finger painted on my phone which will explain the quality.

Screenshots from this site and this site, go enjoy a game of solitaire!

[Image IDs in order; all images have a dark grey background and white text:

1. 'A solitary mess - Hritvika Lakhera' over a grey spade and curly borders. Light grey spots are scattered around

2. Rough digital drawing of a computer screen with a game of solitaire open on it. Below that is a picture of the spider cards from Windows spider solitaire and a smiling emoticon on top. Text reads, "When i was young, I watched my parents and elders play solitaire on the computer. I did not understand much of what was happening on the screen but I liked when the spider showed up in spider solitaire"

3. First half has a screenshot of a spider solitaire game and a roughly drawn cartoon of a child seemingly frustrated. Text reads, "I tried to play it on my own sometimes but could never figure it out. The cards just wouldn't stack and it left me frustrated" Second half shows an option to select between easy and hard mode with two icons of card kings, red and black. Text reads, "Recently I remembered those games again and thought to try them again now that I'm older

I got stuck in it but started to understand by and by..."

4. Text reads, "The game wasn't about stacking up the cards. It was about clearing them out"

5. First half shows two screenshots of google searches. One for solitaire online and spider solitairI online, the second for baker's game online and freecell online. Text reads, "I started playing it obsessively, and then onward to spider solitaire. Turns out there are several kinds of solitaire games -" Second half has two screenshots, one of a FreeCell game and one of a Baker's game. Text reads, "FreeCell, where the balance between arranging the cards and keeping the cells open frustrated me again. And its evil cousin, the Baker's Game, where the cards went only with their own particular suits"

6. First half has a tangled scribbled mess of lines. Text reads, "Every now and again the basics would slip my mind: it's about clearing out the cards. It's about untangling a mess". Second half has a gif of a messy FreeCell game. Text reads, "When I close my eyes to sleep I see a horribly tangled game of FreeCell before my eyes. In my dreams the stresses of daily life take the form of an impossible Baker's Game"

7. Two stacks of playing cards, one where the last cardface says 'Plans for writing' while the other says 'Promises to friends and family'. Below is an overturned card with an arrow pointed to it saying 'Click here to deal more plans' in neon letters. Text reads, "My life has been a mess of tangled plans and locked in wishes that is hard to make sense of. In my search for purpose and direction I keep adding little tasks and obligations. Taking up more on my plate so it doesn't seem too empty. Stacking up my ventures so they seem to create a solid sense of self. Being scared of leaving a space open or of committing to one plan of action too much."

8. Screenshot of a solitaire timer that says '05:07 Moves: 19'. Below that is the computer screen from before this time casting light around with a timer that reads 'Time: 63:09 Moves: 102'. Text reads, "I knew solitaire had given me a sense of control but I didn't realise it also ran parallel to the rest of my life. I either clear up the game within 5 minutes or I get too frustrated and loose track and give up. It is entirely too different from how my parents would play it, with a focus and patience that allowed them to disentangle the worst of games, and correct a wrong move (Fun fact: about 5% of solitaire games are completely unsolvable!)"

9. A gif of a Baker's game where the cards are getting stacked and further locked in. Text reads, "I get overwhelmed by the cards that life has dealt me, and my inability to stack them up. So I keep restarting a game, or dealing more cards, and making incomplete stacks..."

10. A gif of a FreeCell game. There are several free spaces and after five moves the game resolves and all stacks clear out, returning to their suita. Text reads, "And I keep forgetting that I don't have to do that. I just have to clear them out". /end ID]

[kanejhell]

One for Malice

Read it on AO3!

Word Count: 1,403

Kaz Brekker strolled into the Promsvyaz on a late Friday afternoon, polished shoes tapping lightly against the dark marble floor. The small bank stood resolute in its declared street corner in the Exchange, stacked tall in the space between neighboring buildings, pathway lightly weathered from the wealthy’s daily foot traffic. He ran a hand through his hair, making the same face he always made when he was about to wager against Sankta Margaretha.

Large stone archways yawned toward the high ceiling, curving upward as they met the dome roof and slanted downward at sharp angles. Thick marble columns rested on either side of the entryway, continuous sets echoing down the length of the bank in mirror imagery. 

Desks lined either side of the wall, more than half of them empty, all the way to the back, a large one at its center. Wealthy merchants were scattered about the floor, unbuttoning and rebuttoning their cuffs, busying themselves with other trivial things. He grit his teeth for a moment, forcing himself to forget his limp as he walked to the far desk. He rolled his shoulders back slightly, throwing on that same arrogance that every other merchant’s son had grown, festering like an infection from a wound.

The man behind the desk scribbled on a piece of pale parchment absentmindedly. 

“Excuse me,” Kaz drawled, drawing out his words as if he had all the time in the world to speak them. “I’d like to open an account for myself.”

The man behind the desk didn’t so much as raise his eyes.

Kaz’s eyebrows knit together in mock annoyance. “I have a lot of money, and I’d like to put it somewhere safe,” he said, standing up straighter. The man behind the desk glanced at him, then set down his pen.

He sat up in his chair, peering down over his desk into Kaz as if he were a merchant’s boy, destined to make his own fate on his father’s dime. Kaz pulled out a stack of Kruge , bound together with a thick band in the center. 

The man– Mikhial, his nametag read–smiled at him as if they shared a secret. “An account you say,” he let out a hearty laugh, “a growing thing like you needs one of those in this changing world. How else will you be able to keep your things safe if not in a bank,” he tutted.  

He picked up his pen again, scribbling something else and casting the sheet of parchment aside. “So,” Mikhial said, “Your name?”

“Radomir,” Kaz announced as he leaned forward, mimicking juvenile authority. “Alexei Radomir.” His mind flickered back to the eldest living Radomir heir, no more than twelve. An old name, but not so known that it would draw suspicion. 

Mikhial hummed, scratching his pen against another new sheet of parchment. “And how much would you like to deposit today, Alexei?” He inquired, looking at him through his brows, greed in his eyes. Kaz fought the quirk of his lip.

He made a show of digging through his pockets, layering the disheveledness any other merchant’s child might have shown at having to attend to matters for themself. He placed the stack of the pale, purple bills still in his hand on the edge of the tall desk and another from his pocket on top of it. 

Mikhail made a face. “That can’t be all you’ve got, now. You wouldn’t want to see your balance to be so low from the start, would you?” He leaned in close, voice dropping low. Kaz took a step forward, as if mystified. “‘Tell you a secret. You start out as big as you can, and keep funneling more in. Never sell for more than you can make. That’s how all the big players do it.” 

Kaz nodded, face drawn in concentration as if he’d just received gospel directly from the Saints. Truly, he thought, there was no more fitting a place for it to be than in the centre of a bank. 

He dug around in his pockets for a moment, and pulled out a few other large, crumpled bills, as if they’d simply been sitting in the bottom of his coat pockets for weeks, forgotten. 

Mikhail nodded in approval, a glimmer in his eyes. “Now you’ve got the right idea. Let’s get you squared away.” He scribbled down on a piece of paper and set the large stamp across it with a heavy thud before settling it back down on the inkpad and filing the whole thing away in a drawer at his side. He fumbled for an envelope and slipped the crumpled Kruge into it, so thick it was bulging and wouldn’t close. Kaz pretended he didn’t notice when a few of the bills fell into a place they did not belong, unretrieved. “Now,” he said, smacking his lips, “there will be some paperwork for you to fill out at the other end, near that line of desks,” he gestured to the opposing side of the bank. 

Kaz filed the paperwork, carefully signing Alexei’s name across the blank and handing over his identification. Really, Rotty did an impressive job at its duplication. 

As he stepped back out onto the streets of the Exchange, the sun slipped over the horizon of the Harbor, colours dancing across the sea. He turned the corner into an alley, raising a brow at the small goat that knocked over a crate and bleated in his direction.

Inej turned the corner and came up beside him, offering his cane. He took it, leaning heavily against it as he came to rest on a wall, taking the weight off his leg. Inej bent down, stroking the goat’s coarse fur. “If you feed it,” he said, “it will come back.”

She laughed at him. “Would that be so bad?” Kaz raised a brow as she stood again. “You came back, you know.” He wasn’t the one that left, she knew. Though he was the one that took her offerings like any properly starved man, like there was yet another kind of greed he had yet to learn to bend to his will. 

His gaze dropped to the way her hair fell across her shoulder. The small scar at the top of her lip. He changed the subject. “The accounts are kept individually in a series of files, but not well. They’re being skimmed off by the tellers.”

“So how do we get in?” She asked, slipping further down the alleyway.

“Getting in isn’t the problem,” he limped heavily behind her, and she waited for him to catch up before continuing. “It’s keeping our hands clean after we get out.”

She picked up a crate and turned it on its side for him to sit on. “Our dear friend Radomir has an account now that we have access to. Currently, there are a couple hundred Kruge in it, waiting patiently. The bank knows it’s a large sum, so it shouldn’t be hard to fudge the numbers of the ledger.”

“So we funnel the money into the Radomir account, change the ledger to make up the difference for the missing funds, and then. . . what? We can’t withdraw that without drawing suspicion.”

“No,” he said, taking a seat on the crate and sending her a thankful look. He rest his cane against a barrel just to the side of him. “Which is exactly why we need someone on the inside who can do the moving for us. Then, before anyone notices their accounts have been siphoned, we’ll break in and drain Radomir’s account, too.”

“Someone on the inside?”

“There were a number of empty desks. I’m willing to bet they’re hiring.”

“And who exactly do you propose we send in?”

Kaz leaned back against the brick wall. “Wylan’s a merchant’s son. And, as the Van Eck heir, I’m sure they’d love a known name attached to their business.”

Inej shook her head. The goat bleated again from behind them, trailing along. Kaz shot her a look. “He won’t agree to that,” she said, bending down to pet the goat again.

He frowned. “He will if we can also talk Jesper onto the job,” he reached for his cane and leaned over the top, putting all his weight on it as he stood. 

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“I think it’s time we visit the Van Eck manor,” he said, turning to face Inej. “Bring the goat.”

Masterlist

do we want a grishaverse taglist yes or no

[flecks-of-stardust]

[image description: a series of pencil drawings of Greenpath Vessel (Orchid), Ghost, and the Hollow Knight (Glimmer)’s shells, from top to bottom respectively. From left to right, it shows how their shells change as they progress through each molt. Ghost and Orchid’s shells mostly elongate as they molt, the bottoms of their heads sharpening into a soft point and the tops of their heads rounding out. A note above their shells remarks along the same lines. Their eyes also flatten and tilt more as they progress through their molts, Glimmer’s eyes most so. They all start with round, elliptical eyes; Glimmer’s eyes are the flattest and the most slanted by their final molts.

Orchid’s horns get much thicker as they molt and also curve significantly more, particularly their lower pair of horns, which curves around to the back of their head, then curve back outwards again. They are hidden behind their upper pair of horns, but are drawn in with dashed lines. Ghost’s horns retain the same bowed look, but each individual horn prong elongates and separates from the others as they progress through their molts. They also get an extra prong on the outer edge of their horns in their second molt, right where the bend of their horn is the most extreme. In their final molt, Ghost’s horns somewhat mimic branches, and Orchid has lost the vaguely flower like appearance that they had before their first molt. Notably, an arrow pointing to one of Ghost’s horns as they are in their first molt remarks that they ‘should curve more. I ran out of space.’

Glimmer’s growth progresses differently, in a markedly more extreme manner. Their head elongates faster than their siblings’ do, and their horns also increase in thickness much more dramatically, to the point where their head shape is completely obscured in their last molt. A dashed line that curves slightly marks where their horn starts and their head ends. Their horns pull away from each other somewhat as they progress through their molts, and their horn prongs also pull away from each other and lengthen at the same time. They also get their third pair of prongs during their second molt, protruding out near their head. Next to their face is a short note that says ‘all horn’ with a sad face, and their characteristic scar is present on their face, striking through their right eye.

There are a variety of bar marks next to their faces, both providing an easier way to measure the lengths of their various proportions, and to compare relative lengths. To the right of Glimmer’s head is a bar with a star next to it; a similar bar is next to one of their horns, placed parallel to a long bar that measures their horn length. The ratio between the two lengths is longer than one to three. There is a bar to the left of their face, to the right of their second molt, and to the right of Ghost’s final molt, each of them marked with triangles. Notes pointing to them indicate that all of them are the same length, emphasizing that the height of Glimmer’s head in their second molt is the same as that of Ghost’s head in their final molt, and the height of their head in their final molt is slightly taller still. Similar bars marked with a circle are next to Ghost’s second molt and Glimmer’s first molt. One final bar next to Ghost’s final molt marks out the height of their horns, putting the ratio between that and the height of their head to be less than two to one. end image description]

uhhhhhhhhh i hope this makes sense to other people. i feel like i fumbled the id GHJKDSHJK

i didn’t have room to fit lheki on here as well, but i’ll be drawing their horns too on a fresh page. this is mostly a rough estimate of how the vessels’ shells develop through their molts, and the focus here was to make glimmer’s development look as fucked up as i could. i Hope i achieved it. anything i said about their proportions looking passable until you measure them is untrue now, because their final molt looks Really ganked. i felt bad drawing it honestly.

which, like. is the point. at least with how i figure their proportions work and how they wound up that way through their development, their growth was really unnatural and accelerated to a dangerous degree. so they noticeably look really messed up, even to someone who doesn’t know how vessels work. granted, fully molted vessels in general look a little unsettling to the average bug, but glimmer has a much more pronounced effect on them. if it looks like it hurts, that was the point and also yes it does. :(

[flowesona]

Wicker Man - yandere! jungkook x reader

so my child @babeejk​ wanted a y! sugar daddy jungkook, and i live for nothing if not to fulfil her jungkook obsession so here we are. 

word count: 2.1k

pairing: y! jungkook x gn! reader

Most people (Y/N)’s age would spend their Friday night partying, hanging out with friends, trying new things. But (Y/N) was spending the best days of their life entertaining a young, rich CEO who would no doubt dump them for a new pretty face in a few years.

Jungkook was a sweet gentleman. Always made payments on time, and usually never pushed the boundaries. But there were instances where his hands crept a little too far for (Y/N)’s liking, or his grip on (Y/N)’s arm got a little too tight in the presence of his friends.

He was peaceful enough that Friday night, having ordered takeout for the two of them and put on a movie. Clearly, he needed the company of (Y/N) more than their body as most of their previous sugar daddies had coveted.

With (Y/N) placing their plate down onto the coffee table and relaxing into his arms to watch the movie, it was almost like they were dating. Jungkook didn’t dare push this idea often, happy to stick to the simple domesticity they had as if they were already in love and nothing needed to be said.

He pressed a kiss on the back of (Y/N)’s neck, enjoying the fleeting feeling of his lips on their skin. 

“You seem tired, baby. Want to go to bed?” The film was reaching its climax, but (Y/N)’s eyes were barely able to stay open.

“Mmmmm.” They replied, not protesting as he lifted them like a bride and carried them into his room to rest on his king sized bed.

(Y/N) had allowed a gentle smile to settle on their lips, their eyes having drifted closed. Jungkook settled himself beside them, feeling equally as at peace.

“I wish every night could be like this.” He mused allowed. “Would you like that, baby?”

(Y/N) was only his for two nights a week - Fridays and Saturdays, wherein he would often have them stay for the night.

“Mmmmm.” (Y/N) gave an ambiguous grumble as he hooked his arms around their chest to spoon them.

“Really? I can’t wait, baby. I love you, so much.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The morning after, (Y/N) woke up to an empty bed. Unusual, considering that Jungkook loved to wake up beside them and talk in the morning. Brushing that aside they stood up and padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Jungkook was seated at the counter, glasses perched on his nose and his laptop in front of him next to a steaming cup of hot water (allegedly, it had health benefits but (Y/N) had never understood it).

“Good morning, baby.” Jungkook had a bright smile, beckoning them to join him at the counter. (Y/N) followed his instructions, hopping onto the stool beside him and leaning on his shoulder in a move they knew he adored.

“I’ve been working hard for you this morning, baby. You know, I want to get this done as soon as possible so we can be together.”

“That’s good.” (Y/N) hummed in reply.

“How do you feel about the moving company getting there at two today? That’ll give us time to have lunch on the way.” Jungkook ran his hand down their arm, soothing them as he noticed how they tensed up.

“What?” 

“So you can move in, baby. Of course, you don’t have to bring everything here and I’ll be more than happy to buy anything extra you need-”

“Wait, wait, wait a second.” (Y/N) breathed out slowly. “Moving in?”

“We talked about it last night. You agreed, didn’t you?” (Y/N) scrunched up their nose, trying to recall the conversation but drawing a blank.

“No, I never agreed to that. And I never would. It’d break the terms of our contract.”

Jungkook had such a sincere look of hurt in his eyes that it tugged at (Y/N)’s heartstrings.

“We don’t need that contract, baby. We just need each other. You know I’ll give you anything you want, right?” 

“And what I want… no, what I need… is for some space. This is just my part time hustle, I still have college and a life outside of this. I want to keep it to two days a week, otherwise it’ll blur the lines between you as a sugar daddy and you as a boyfriend.” (Y/N) tried not to let their irritation show as they spoke.

“Fuck the lines, (Y/N)! We don’t need any of those labels, I just want you to be mine as much as I am yours!” Their companion’s grip on their arm had grown tighter to the point that his nails started to draw blood. Realising this, (Y/N) pried his hand away and stood up.

“I’m sorry if I’d misled you. But I’m not looking for that kind of relationship with you, I’m just looking for strictly business. If this doesn’t work, maybe we should end this.” 

Jungkook stared at them incredulously.

“Well…” He bit his lip, deep in thought. “Fine. Life will go on, I guess. I’ll call up the moving company and cancel it. Let’s not end this beautiful thing we have over a silly argument.”

(Y/N) nodded, although they had a horrible feeling in their stomach that it was not the end of the conversation, and Jungkook would stop at nothing to get his way.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) had chosen to make Thursday a ‘me’ day. They cooked themselves breakfast and lunch, did some online shopping and applied a face mask. They had zero intentions of visiting anyone else, when all they wanted to do was de-stress from life.

As they were lighting a candle and listening to some Beethoven, a shrill alarm rang out.

‘Huh. They don’t normally hold the drill today.’ (Y/N) shrugged, waiting for it to cease. However, it didn’t stop.

After a few minutes, (Y/N) grabbed their phone and stepped outside, only to see people hurrying down the stairs. 

“Hurry! Fire!” One of her neighbours yelled, jogging past them. 

Their eyes widened, but sure enough they could see smoke curling throughout the air and they knew they had no time to lose. Leaving their apartment with only their phone in hand, (Y/N) followed their neighbours down the stairs and out of the building, standing on the pavement as they watched the flames licking at the building and smoke billowing out of the open windows. Soon enough there were fire engines on the scene and ambulances to deal with the people who’d inhaled too much smoke. 

(Y/N) found themselves sitting on the pavement, numb with shock. To think everything they owned was going up in the flames was terrifying, even as they saw the firefighters doing everything to minimise the damage. 

“(Y/N)! Baby!” Their state of shock was broken by someone yelling their name, and suddenly they were pulled into a tight hug.

“Baby, thank god you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened to you.” 

“Jungkook?” (Y/N) instantly recognised the voice. “What- How-”

“I was in the area when I heard about what happened. I came as quickly as I could.” Jungkook pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead. 

“You need to rest. Come back to my place, okay?”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) had ended up staying there far longer than intended. Their apartment had been completely wrecked by the fire, since it had started on their floor. Every possession of theirs, gone so quickly, although of course Jungkook insisted on replacing whatever they wanted.

Jungkook seemed to be very much content with their prolonged stay. In fact, he’d been working from home for the first few days to make sure they were settled in and not feeling too lonely. (Y/N) would sit with him in his home office, since they didn’t really have much else to do, and scroll on their phone until he inevitably called them over to cuddle with him. 

The young man had become progressively bolder with his skinship, never holding back from pressing kisses to their neck or holding them a bit too tightly to his crotch. They hadn’t done ‘it’ yet, but with how he was acting it was only a matter of time. 

They were just sitting together, (Y/N) scrolling through instagram and Jungkook answering some emails when the desk phone rang. Jungkook reached around them to answer it, holding it to his ear for a few seconds before putting it back down.

“Your nintendo switch has just been delivered. I need to go down to the lobby and sign for it. Are you okay waiting here for a few minutes?” Jungkook pouted, as (Y/N) nodded in reply.

He pressed a kiss to their cheek before standing up.

“Don’t miss me too much, baby.” He smiled before leaving. 

(Y/N) let out a breath they didn’t realise they’d been holding in whilst he was there. But now, they were bored as ever. 

A chime rang out, and (Y/N) found their attention drawn to Jungkook’s phone, sitting there innocently. They reached over and picked it up, only seeing a text from his mother asking about dinner plans next week. But they noted how he’d changed his lockscreen to a picture of them, from a few nights ago when they’d accompanied him to a formal event and he’d asked one of his colleagues to take a picture of them together.

(Y/N) suddenly had something to do. They set about trying to unlock Jungkook’s phone, first trying their fingerprint and face ID but to no avail. Then, realising that he had a numeral password they tried typing in a few dates - his birthday, his parent’s anniversary. Then, out of sheer boredom and with only one attempt they tried their own birthday only for them to be granted access to his lockscreen.

‘Jeez, he needs to get a life if he’s that whipped for me.’ They sighed, as they scrolled through his phone. Nothing was particularly out of the ordinary, until they checked the photo gallery, to be met with tons of pictures of them. Screenshots from social media, snaps from their ‘dates’, selfies with them fast asleep in his arms. It was enough to make (Y/N) shudder with fright.

Another message popped up.

‘I need the other half of the payment, sir, or I will be contacting the police.’

(Y/N) clicked on it, expecting business talk only to be met with something else entirely. Fear settled in their stomach as they scrolled up through the messages.

‘(Y/N) has been evacuated outside, doesn’t seem to have been hurt.’

‘Someone’s called emergency services, but the fire should spread far enough that (Y/N)’s apartment will be damaged.’

‘I’ve started it, it’s spreading quickly.’

It didn’t take a genius to realise what had happened. 

(Y/N) dropped Jungkook’s phone on the floor in shock, standing up immediately. They’d walked right into his arms without hesitation, they’d played into his plan perfectly. Jungkook always got what he wanted, no matter the cost.

‘I have to get out of here.’

(Y/N) started for the door, only stopping to tuck their phone into their pocket. They were just by the entrance to the penthouse when they heard talking outside.

They knew they had to hide, but it was too late. 

Jungkook burst through the door, accompanied by a stern faced delivery driver carrying a large box. This was subsequently placed by the door and he made a swift exit, avoiding (Y/N)’s existence the entire time.

“Ah, baby I missed you. Here, come and see what I bought for you.” Jungkook beckoned to them, but one look at their face told him he’d read their mood entirely wrong.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He cooed as he approached them. “Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you.”

“Get the hell away from me.” (Y/N) snapped. Jungkook froze. “I know what you did. What the hell is wrong with you? I could’ve died in that fire?”

His face became stern.

“I would never have allowed that to happen. I just wanted to give you a little push to move in with me, that’s all.” 

“You’re insane!”

“And you’re too stubborn to progress our relationship!” Jungkook bit back. “Can’t you see how hard I try to make you happy? Is that not enough for you to love me?”

“I never want to see you again.” (Y/N) huffed, trying to show past him only to be caught in his iron grip. 

“You’re not going anywhere.”

(Y/N) struggled, but Jungkook’s determination was stronger than their body weight.

“Maybe I am crazy, baby. And you know what that means?” He leant in close, so (Y/N) could feel the warmth of his breath. “You never know what I’m going to do next. So don’t try me unless you want to get burnt.”

[n0wornever]

Small Talk - Luke Patterson x Reader

Hi babes! I love your writing!! I saw the glory days request and I loved it and so I was wondering if I could request something similar with Luke haha! Small Talk by Niall Horan screams Luke at me for some reason and Id love to get your take on it! Totally ok if its not your thing tho! Like the other requester, I cannot write for my life and its so hard to get the words out!

Hope this fits! :) 

She spun around in the mirror, smiling at her reflection. This was the first time she’d be going to a dance with her friends post-breakup. The screaming match that took place almost two days ago had faded into the background as danced to the light pop music from her speaker as she toyed with her little black dress. She leaned her neck to the left and then the right, spritzing her favorite perfume gently. 

Flynn appeared in the mirror beside her, eyes wide as she stared at her friend’s reflection. “Girl, you popped off.” 

Y/N smiled at her, flipping her freshly curled hair to the side “Well thank youuuu,” She giggled the two dancing with each other for a moment as the finished applying lipstick. 

As they entered the living room, she looked at the crew, splattered around her living room in formal wear. Her eyes immediately fell on he best friend Luke, who’s eyes wandered down her frame, moving back up to her eyes quickly as he coughed awkwardly. 

“Wow, you ladies look spectacular,” Luke stood to greet Y/N, grabbing her hand and spinning her in a circle before interlocking their fingers. 

Flynn gave her a pointed side eye, but Y/N shook her head at the girl, pulling Luke out the door behind her.

Julie, Nick, Flynn, her date Brandon, Reggie, Alex, Luke and herself halted at the driveway. Nick looked between the van and the jeep. “There’s no way we are all fitting in one car.” 

Luke pulled out his keys, Y/N following him toward his truck “We’ll drive separately!” 

“I’m sure you will,” Flynn murmured, Y/N turning to grill her with her eyes before she turned back toward Luke. 

He guided her into the passenger seat and shut the door behind her. As he got in on the drivers side, he leaned over to touch her hand and whisper in her ear. “You look stunning tonight.” 

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked toward her clutch as Luke pulled out onto the road. Luke turned up the rock music on the radio, tapping against the wheel. Y/N watched as he cruised with ease, flashing her a short smile every once in awhile.

They pulled into the school lot and Luke put the car in park before turning to face her. “You’re going to make that jerk regret the day he was born.” 

She touched his shoulder, her nose scrunched with her wide smile “No, we are.” 

He bit down on his lip before he turned to get out of the vehicle. He moved over to her side, guiding her down and taking her hand in his again. They walked into the gym and immediately found their friends. Her eyes ran across the room until they stopped on a familiar blue. 

There Kyle was, star quarterback, honors scholar and her ex-boyfriend on the middle of the dance floor with Carrie. Y/N wasn’t entirely shocked when she found out that the person he’d been drawn to post-breakup would be her. They’d been friends for years and they made more sense together in every sense of the word. Popularity, looks, wealth, the two looked like a power couple wherever they went. 

Y/N tried to ignore the boy’s tight grip on the dancer’s waist as they swayed together. She felt a soft touch on the small of her back and turned to see Luke’s sympathetic gaze.

“You okay?” 

She nodded at him, shaking out her arms and rolled out her shoulders before guiding the boy out on the floor. She was on a mission tonight to feel alive again. She led Luke’s hands to her waist and pulled him in. His eyes were wide, but he gripped her tightly. They moved in sync during the song, the other couples in their group coming up to join them. 

During the next song, Y/N moved to wrap her arms around Luke’s neck. She giggled at the soft blush on his ears as she radiated heat onto her body. Luke had volunteered to be her date tonight so she didn’t have to show up alone. This closeness and dancing was nothing new to them, as they had been friends since kindergarten. But she wasn’t sure how she felt about the way he bit his lip at her right now. 

She tried not to think to heavily about it, moving her body to the music. Eventually the girl’s favorite song came blasting through the speakers and Y/N was spun out of Luke’s arms, creating a semi-circle with her girls in the center of the floor. 

Luke watched as she twirled and moved. Her curls flew effortlessly around her face, and her smiled beamed brighter than he’d seen in days. He moved over toward Alex and Reggie at the punch bowl, leaning against the wall.

“You have to make your move tonight dude, you’re practically drooling over here.” Alex said, holding his paper cup to his lips 

Luke frowned at the blonde “It’s not like that. Plus, she just got out of that chaos with what’s his name...I’m not pushing anything.” 

Y/N flew around the floor with Julie and Flynn by her side. She felt lighter than she had in awhile as she let loose, her hands above her head as her waist swayed from side to side. Flynn inched over to whisper in her ear.

“Luke looks good tonight Y/N....”

She pursed her lips at her friend “Flynn...”

Flynn rolled her eyes “You know you two have been looking at each other with those puppy dog eyes for years, you cannot lie to me.” Y/N chewed on her lower lip.

“I say, do something about it, why not see what happens!” She spun Y/N around so that she faced east side of the room. Her eyes landed on the three boys in front of her, landing specifically on the boy in dark blue. 

She took Luke’s attire. He did look great in the vintage ruffled suit he borrowed from his dad. His hair was quaffed just right and chest was definitely more toned than the last time she saw it. She squinted for a moment before she made a final decision. 

Reggie laughed at his friend, pointing across the dance floor “You may not, but I feel like Y/N has something in mind...”

His eyes wandered across the dance floor. He saw Y/N still dancing with the girls, but her eyes were locked on him. He looked her up and down as she shimmied in his direction. She held out a finger, inching him toward her. Alex practically pushed Luke off the wall, making him walk in her direction. 

As she met him in the middle, she closed in on him. She circled his neck again, and he pulled her body toward him, leaving no space for breathing. Their foreheads were centimeters away, eye contact never easing. She let her fingers play with the hairs on the nape of his neck, as his hands tapped against her waist. 

The music faded and Y/N broke from Luke’s grip. She grabbed his hand and led him toward the courtyard. As they broke out into the tranquil solace of the gardens, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Luke’s eyes widened as he watched her gaze move from his lips to his eyes. 

“Y/N what are you...”

She silenced him, putting a finger up to his lips “Don’t ruin it.” 

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. He kissed back quickly, hands clasping at her waist. As she pulled away, she gave him one more smile. She held out her hand to him, and he took it, the two of them sprinting out into the hallway. 

.

.

.

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Tag list: @xplrreylo​ @lovesanimals​, @anythingandeverythingfandom​, @crybabyddl​, @oswin05​, @themaddies-obx​​, @lukeys-giggle​​, @bumbleberry-pie​​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​​  @marinettepotterandplagg​​, @lolychu​​, @bathtimejish​​, @dasexydevitt13​​ @musicconversedance​​, @txrii​​  @bestdressedandstressed​​ @daisiesforlacey​​  @epikskool​​  @bookfrog247​​ @carleywhittaker​​ @princessvader15​​ @rudysbay​​ @spooky-season-bitch​​  @kcd15​​ @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall​

[agwitow]

Alpha Wolves

content warning: swearing, mild violence

Marcus yawned, his jaw cracking, and shook out his pants. It had been a long night, helping two pups with their first change. They were already packed into their parents’ SUVs, fast asleep, and on the way to their homes. In a few months they would be good to join a pack. It wasn’t always as simple with new shifters, but those two each had a parent who was one as well. Even at eight and ten, they knew a fair amount of what it meant to be a lycanthrope.

Dressed in sweats and a light cotton long-sleeved shirt, he ran a hand over his jaw and sighed. Full moon changes always made his hair grow. Even though he’d been clean-shaven before the change, he had what felt like two-days of growth now. Shaggy hair didn’t bother him nearly as much as a beard did, though by the end of the three days he’d need to get that trimmed as well.

He padded barefoot into the little cabin that served as his base of operations while helping new shifters and started a pot of coffee brewing. He hated the stuff, but it would be at least a couple hours before he could head home to sleep, so he needed something to keep him awake.

While it percolated, he checked his phone. Three emails from work, two from the pack, and some spam. He’d just opened the first email when the phone rang.

“Porter Consulting.”

“Mr. Porter, it’s Deputy Palerma from the EKSD,” a male with a pleasant tenor said.

East Keddol was a small town several miles from Hapburgh, the city Marcus lived and worked in. It was in the interesting position of being almost perfectly between Hapburgh pack territory and Redview pack territory. Surprisingly few places fell into the odd in-between spaces between packs, and, as far as he knew, no one had developed any specific protocols for dealing with them.

“How can I help you today, Deputy?”

“We have a shifter—twenty-three-year-old male—who attacked his friends when he shifted for the first time. Miss Davidson recommended I call you.”

Kaelyn Davidson did for the Redview pack what Marcus did for the Hapburgh one. She was, if he remembered correctly, also a month or two out from giving birth. Handling an adult shifter who’d already hurt people was probably not high on her list of ways to spend her time.

“I see. Is your new shifter awake?”

“No. We had to hit him with a tranq to be able to bring him in. He’s changed back, but hasn’t woken up yet.”

Marcus snorted. Safety Departments were, mostly, better than the old police system, but sometimes they were still a little too trigger happy. At least it was a tranquilizer dart instead of a clip of bullets. “I’ll send someone to pick him up. He’s going to wake up before they get there, and he’s going to be cranky and hungry.”

“I’ve taken the class on shifters, Mr. Porter,” Deputy Palerma said, sounding offended. “There is a post-shift recovery kit in the fridge.”

He stifled a sighed. “If that’s all you have, that’s fine, but it would be better if the new shifter could get freshly made food. Eggs, nuts, oats, cottage cheese or Greek yogurt, and pumpkin seeds are best. Avoid meat, if possible, especially red meat.”

“I thought shifters need protein the morning after?”

“We do, and the foods I listed are all high protein items. New shifters can find meats to be… an issue at first. As I’m not able to speak with your young man at present, it’s better to be cautious.”

There was a moment of silence on the line before Palerma said, “Alright. Who will be coming, and when should we expect them?”

“It’ll depend on who is free.”

“Can’t you just tell someone to do it? You’re the alpha, aren’t you?”

Marcus had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning. That damn study from the 40s. “That’s not quite how things work. All pack members have proper ID.”

“Fine,” he said, the word ending with an annoyed click of his tongue.

“Thank you. Someone will be there between 10:30 and noon.”

Once they’d said their farewells, Marcus sent out a quick message through the pack’s group chat.

New shifter, East Keddol holding, possible alpha complex. Any takers?

He set the phone down and poured himself a cup of coffee, adding enough cream and sugar to make it mostly palatable, before settling on a stool at the tiny kitchen’s bar-height table. He’d drunk half the cup before a chime indicated he’d gotten a response. Two more chimes rang out before he’d picked the phone back up.

Eddie: I’m free but never handled an alpha complex b4 wdin2k?

Ksenia: lol take a muzzle

Julianne: y can’t the Reds take em?

Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed, and replied: Kaelyn’s 8 mo. Pregnant. Take the green SUV, put him in the back, and keep the divider up.

Eddie: is it that dangerous?

Thomas: alpha-complexers are just assholes

Julianne: TOM! There are CHILDREN in this chat

Thomas: no regrets!

Marcus temporarily turned notifications off for the group chat, replied to the most important of the work emails, set up reminders for the other two, then headed for the cabin’s futon. By the time he’d make it to his apartment in the city, he’d barely have any time to sleep before he’d need to head back out to meet the new shifter. So he’d nap on the futon and feel stiff for most of the afternoon.

#

A little after 2pm, the rumbling and crunch of a vehicle coming up the gravel drive to the cabin announced the arrival of Eddie and the new shifter. Marcus set aside his laptop and headed out to the porch to greet them. He was still barefoot and wearing sweats and the long-sleeved shirt, but he’d run a trimmer through the beard so he felt less like a back-woods mountain man.

The car had barely come to a complete stop before the back door opened and a young man stepped out with a glower. He was around average height, with enough muscle mass to indicate he worked out at least somewhat regularly. Dark blond hair hung to his shoulders and a thick beard wrapped his jaw—though whether that was a stylistic choice or the moon driven change accelerating his hair growth even more than it did for Marcus was unclear.

“You Marcus?” the young man demanded.

He raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and leaned against one of the porch supports. “I am. And you are?”

“Joseph.”

He nodded and shifted his gaze to Eddie, who’d stepped around to the front of the SUV. “How was the drive?”

Eddie shrugged, his gaze darting to Joseph and then away. “S’okay. Wouldn’t want to do it again, though.”

“Don’t blame you. Thanks for doing it, though. See you next week for a run, okay?”

His shoulders relaxed and he smiled. “Of course. Later, Marcus.”

Joseph scoffed. “Like he would be any good.”

Marcus shook his head and stepped down off the porch. He was a little shorter than the new shifter, though broader in the shoulders and with more muscle mass. “You will respect each and every member of our pack, or you’ll be sent to Palstead Institution. It is not a pleasant introduction to being a shifter.”

“Whatever, man. Just give me whatever stupid speech you’ve got so I can challenge you.”

“There will be no ‘challenging’ here.”

“Fuck that. I ain’t no submissive bitch.”

“What you do or don’t do in the bedroom has no relevance to this situation.”

Red flooded Joseph’s face a moment before he took a swing at Marcus. He’d obviously had a little bit of training, but the movement was still too big to be truly effective.

Marcus side-stepped and twisted a little so that he had more leverage as he placed a palm against Joseph’s arm and pushed. It wasn’t a big push, but the kid had overextended himself and it knocked him off balance enough to make him stumble. He took a step back and waited for the next attack he knew would be coming.

Joseph didn’t disappoint. He came up swinging wildly, rushing toward him as if he couldn’t decide whether to beat his face in or tackle him to the ground.

Marcus calmly deflected each blow, leading Joseph in a circle as he side-stepped and backed away from the attacks. Less than a minute later, Jospeh was panting and struggling to even come close to landing any blows.

“Have you finished with your temper tantrum, yet?” Marcus asked.

Joseph glared at him but stopped, bending over with hands on knees as he panted.

“You seem to be under the misunderstanding that pack members fight each other. Different packs rarely even fight each other.”

“How…how do you know who’s alpha, then?”

“There is no ‘alpha.’ Not the way you’re thinking, anyway.”

“What?”

Marcus sighed and took a seat on the ground. The grass was soft and, thanks to a sunny morning, contained no hint of dampness. After a moment’s hesitation, Joseph slumped down as well. “Pack is family. Would you pick a fight with your dad to try and take over the family?”

“No…”

He shrugged. “Picking a fight with a pack member makes about as much sense. We each have a role to play, and that role is based on our skills and personality and knowledge. Not on who we’re able to beat up.”

“Aren’t we wolves? At least partly?”

“Yes. And that’s how wolves behave.”

Joseph stared at him blankly.

He sighed again. “Come inside. I’ll make you a tuna sandwich and you can read one of the brochures.”

Joseph followed him inside, silent, but with a simmering edge of anger beneath his exhaustion. Once the full moon was over and the forced changes weren’t sapping his energy, he would be a real pain in the ass if Marcus couldn’t nip the problem in the bud.

“Here,” he said, picking up a glossy tri-fold and handing it over. “Have a seat. Read. I’ll make the sandwiches.”

He settled onto a stool, shoulders hunched and brows drawn. “Why Alpha-Dog Theory is BS,” he read. “Seriously?”

“Mhm,” Marcus replied. “Some of the pack wanted to title it It’s Not Your Inner Wolf, You’re Just an Asshole, but that seemed a bit confrontational.”

“… Oh.”

“Mhm.”

(Moon-Bound - part 2)

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[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 35

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 35

The bungalow was surrounded by aged trees, blocking the sunlight year-round. A chill ran through his body as he walked into the building. The faint musty smell and moisture in the air reminded him of a basement filled with children's toys. Lin Yan followed the Zhongshan man into an office with an old-fashioned wooden table. On the table, there was a large stainless steel thermos. The desktop computer occasionally made some buzzing noises. The office was close to the toilet. It didn't take long for the smell of amonia to rush into his nose.

"Sit down, Lin. I'll grab the contact information of the recent archaeologists that were there. It's still locked in the cabinet." The Zhongshan suit man said as he poured Lin Yan a glass of water in a disposable paper cup. "The files on the table are more than 20 years old. They were just transferred out of the archive room. Feel free to look through them."

"Thank you for your help." Lin Yan said politely.

"No, it's no trouble at all. It's great to see young people so active nowadays. We all heard about what happened with the porcelain appraisal. That was really something. Professor Chen wouldn't stop bragging about it when he got back." The Zhongshan suit man chuckled. He placed a bowl of melon in front of Lin Yan then grabbed his key and left.

Lin Yan sat at the table and waited. The office decoration was old but good quality. The real leather swivel chair was comfortable to sit on. The shade of leaves outside the window blocked the sunlight. A sparrow leaped lightly among the branches. It flapped its wings and flew away.

There were a lot of files about the Ming tomb on the table, sorted into vellum envelopes. Lin Yan flipped through them. They included a large amount of background information on the time period, project approval forms, equipment rental statements, reimbursement vouchers, and so on. An envelope labelled 'Staff Information' caught his attention. Lin Yan brushed off the dust and opened the envelope. There were several smaller envelopes inside with labels written in faded ink. The top one was labelled "1987 Shanxi Archaeological Team Payroll", followed by several others, such as rosters, contact information, etc. The bottom one was marked with the word 'important,' written in red, and the label read: List of work-related casualties and compensation details.

Casualties? Lin Yan picked up the envelope. It was very thin. It was almost like there was nothing inside. The glue on the seal had expired and could be opened just by a light tear. The brownish-yellow paper had become hard and brittle after not being handled for a long time. Lin Yan carefully slipped his hand in. The envelope was empty. Only after fumbling inside the envelope for a while did he find a small thin piece of paper. The hand-drawn table lines were smudged at the top. At first glance, he knew that whoever wrote it had drawn it in a rush. The ink hadn't dried before they dragged the ruler across the page.

A series of footsteps echoing in the hallway approached. Lin Yan jumped, instinctively shoving the paper back into the envelope. it took him a second to remember that he had been given permission to go through the documents. The old information always gave him an anxious feeling, like he was intruding. He felt like a thief, fleetingly travelling back in time from modern times.

The footsteps moved further away. Lin Yan carefully examined the paper in his hand. Everything had also been written in pen. The names, reasons for compensation, amount of money compensated and other items were divided into columns. Lin Yan skimmed over the columns, heart bursting with fear

"Li Erzhuang, hand fracture, compensation of 30 yuan for medical expenses, collected and signed for."

"Sun Dapeng, psychosis, compensation for medical expenses of 150 yuan, collected and signed for."

"Wang Aiguo, psychosis, compensation for medical expenses of 150 yuan, collected and signed for."

". . ."

All the remaining reasons for compensation written in after the names were for psychosis, but the diagnosis details are all blank. The signature on the back was pretty crooked, too. Some of the ink was written so lightly that it was barely visible. Back then, villagers weren't very educated and many could only write their names. He glanced at the page filled with awkward handwriting. When he reached the last two lines, the signature column was blank. After a double-take, the column for the reason for compensation was listed as 'dead'.

"Jun Xiangdong, Jiang Ying . . . did these two die?" Lin Yan gulped. He carefully flattened the paper and muttered: "Compensation of one thousand yuan . . . Hey, that's weird, for these two people. How come it's written that their compensation hasn't been claimed? A thousand yuan was considered a huge sum of money in a village at that time . . ."

Lin Yan confusedly opened the envelope containing the staff list. He pulled out a stack of yellowed paper, flipping through each of them. Besides the detailed information of the students sent by the university who participated in the excavation of the Ming Tomb, the rest were locals. Most of the villagers were uneducated. They only filled in their name, age, gender and village name. Lin Yan counted them. There were 13 people in total. The oldest was only 24 years old, and the youngest was only 16 and 17. Eighteen-year-old children make up the majority. Lin Yan recalled what the professor said and let out a sigh. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for those children to be haunted by illusions and see their friends die in front of them in such a strange way.

It was too much to think about. Lin Yan glanced back at Xiao Yu. The ghost was standing leisurely by the window with his arms crossed, looking at the scenery, as if this had nothing to do with him.

When turning back to Jun Xiangdong and Jiang Ying's forms, Lin Yan was surprised to find that the information left by these two people was almost blank. Compared to the information awkwardly filled in by the other villagers, only their villages and names were listed. Written next to them in black pen were the words "wage uncollected".

Lin Yan stared at the list of villages and frowned. He mumbled: "They're all foreigners? No wonder no one got any money after they died . . ." As he turned over the page of information on the two, there was only one last name at the bottom. The name on this page was Wang Zhong. Similar to Jun Xiangdong and Jiang Ying, there was almost no information is almost blank. He also wasn't a local. Written in big black letters in the upper right-hand corner was: "Wage uncollected".

"Wang Zhong, Wang Zhong . . . This person isn't on the compensation list." Lin Yan glanced through several forms and muttered: "Was he so afraid that he ran away without even getting paid?"

Lin Yan was immersed in a few old documents when, suddenly, the office door squeaked open. Zhongshan suit guy rummaged through the file in his hand as he walked in, muttering to himself: "What's going on . . . "

Hearing his voice, Lin Yan hurriedly put down the files and stood up. Zhongshan suit guy stepped in and waved his hands: "Sit down and sit down. My memory's not what it used to be. Obviously, I put it all away before I went on a business trip. Why can't I find it? "

"What can't you find?"

"Professor Chen said you are looking for the staff roster from the Ming Tomb archaeological expedition in Shanxi. I purposely found it and put it together. The cabinet was opened just now and everything else was there. The fortune-teller's information is the only one that's gone." Zhongshan suit guy shoved everything back into the folder and said to Lin Yan: "Look, everything is numbered. Everyone has one. I filled it out when I joined the team. I kept a copy of it for payroll statistics."

Lin Yan flipped through several forms, each of which was detailed with the staff’s name, ID number, telephone number, address, working hours and position, etc. Indeed, like Zhongshan suit guy said, the number between No. 34 and No. 36 was missing. But the information from the 30th onwards was very brief, some even only listing names and phone numbers. Those people are temporary workers. No. 34 was hired to drive a tractor. No. 36 and 37 were temporary cooks. The form ended on No. 37.

No. 35 should be the mysterious fortune teller.

"This man wasn't part of the team. He came to watch over things with a feng shui compass. He stayed to explain his plan for the excavation then left. He negotiated the price with me and said that he would wait to get paid until his method was proven useful. We had the money ready to go but he never came to get it, otherwise, the financial account would have been recorded."

Everything was done so neatly. Lin Yan stared at the extra space between No. 34 and No. 36 and furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't even want the money? What was he after?

"Please think it over again. Did you take it out before and put it somewhere else?" Lin Yan was a little impatient. "Or did another colleague take it away?"

Zhongshan suit guy rubbed his hands and stroked the key in his hand in confusion: "Impossible. I'm the only one with a key to the cabinet. I had organized everything and locked it in the cabinet before I left on the trip. It was gone as soon as I got back."

Lin Yan's heart skipped a beat. This seemed too coincidental. He glanced back at Xiao Yu. The ghost was staring at the door with furrowed brows and didn't respond to him.

Seeing that Lin Yan's screwed-up expression, Zhongshan suit guy picked up the paper cup on the table and filled it at the water dispenser. He put it back in front of him and comforted him: "It's okay. You sit and drink some water and eat some melon. I'll keep looking for it. I remember when that man first came and spoke in a mysterious way, no one believed him. He left a phone number and address, saying we would definitely have to call him again. And he was right."

"Where did I put it . . ." Zhongshan suit guy talked to himself while fiddling around in the office. Lin Yan wanted to help but was pushed back into the chair. He was forced to stare at the desktop screen saver. A bright, shimmering mass of lines shifted on a black background. Green, red, and blue lines slowly changing, becoming larger and smaller, rolling into a big mess. He couldn't make sense of it.

"Today isn't a good time. If you come at another time, you could ask someone else. Actually, today is our day off so the whole building is empty. I'm the only one who came here for a reason."

Lin Yan smiled embarrassedly: "That's too much trouble for you." Then a thought struck him and he casually mentioned: "There are still people here. I just heard footsteps in the hallway. They just passed by but didn't come in."

Zhongshan suit guy was washing his hands in the washbasin by the door but abruptly stopped when he heard this and looked up: "Impossible. There's no one in the building but flies. There are only three offices, I just checked them and no one's there."

Lin Yan took a sharp breath. He looked towards the dark corridor in the doorway and suddenly felt an ominous feeling.

Maybe it was just him passing by to check the information, Lin Yan reassured himself. When the sun changed its angle, a few loose beams of light penetrated into the room through the gaps in the leaves. The soft yellow light peaked in. The dust dancing in the light fell onto the dark brown tabletop. Beams jutting to the side illuminated a cactus that had been watered too much, its petals hanging down limply.

"Hey, I remember, wait a second." A hint of excitement flashed through Zhongshan suit guy's voice. In the lower part of the glass cabinet, he pulled out an old jacket and searched through the pockets. He fished out a crumpled note from a small pocket in the lining. He fumbled with the crumbled note, studied it over, muttering: "Right, right, this is it."

Zhongshan suit guy slapped the note down in front of Lin Yan's eyes: "The address and phone number."

Lin Yan's expression relaxed.

By noon, the weather was getting hot. Zhongshan suit guy turned on the fan. The buzzing of the fan blades and the rustling of the papers being blown rang out incessantly. Lin Yan put the phone up to his ear and held a pen in his other hand, scribbling on a notepad, the tip of the pen trembling slightly because of the anticipation.

"Beep . . . beep . . ."

". . . The number you have called is temporarily unavailable."

The voice of the phone message came four times in a row. Lin Yan and Zhongshan suit guy exchanged a glance. He dropped the receiver and languidly stretched. Looking at the lower part of the note, the address handwritten in pencil looks familiar. Where had he seen it? Lin Yan tugged at his collar. He wanted to unbutton it to get some air, but he suddenly remembered the string of hickeys on his neck and he hurriedly buttoned it back to the top.

There was a splash of water from the water dispenser, followed by a series of gurgling noises. A thought flashed through his mind. Lin Yan froze in place with his cup in his hand, like the solution had smacked into his brain like a hammer strike.

"Mr. Chen, what does the fortune teller you mentioned look like?"

Zhongshan suit guy thought for a moment and recalled: "It's been a long time so I don't remember clearly. He looked like he was in his 40s or 50s. He's about the same height as me, and his hair is very short."

Lin Yan gulped and entered the address into his phone's GPS. The green route map was displayed, extending all the way to the northwest.

That's it. Lin Yan stared at the red dot indicating the destination in the upper left corner and quietly thought to himself: I found you, temple master.

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter IV: Vetiti Fructus In, The Forbidden Fruit

Previous Chapter (III: Aemulatio)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): angst, drama, comedy

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“why am i always one step behind you?”

the black rim of the file glistens under the light hanging above the table on your left. translucent curtains were drawn behind and next the the oversized L-shaped couch you were laying on, legs stretched out and laptop sitting on a cushion on your lap. 

the white table was strewn about with freshly printed sheets of data and research you managed to collect in the last week. 

it was day seven of your ten days being mentored by doctor choi. the welcome-party was to be held at the end of the month, not the coming weekend. 

something about the team that was responsible for handling newcomers not being able to host it because everybody was busy... something along those lines.

you didn’t bother noting the reason for a delayed party when the more pressing issue was getting that research file out to doctor kim before lee hyunjae did, and with better content. 

throwing your head back against the pillows, your eyes naturally travel along the ceiling to the glass doors beyond the sofa, lining parallel to your position. the faint dots in the sky above takes you back to the first time you went stargazing with your father. 

you remember your mother didn’t go because she was too busy. 

the brain-juicing brightness off the laptop screen starts to yank on your attention, and you sigh at the sight of the word ‘oncology’. you already did the research online and whatever doctor kim had provided you, and it wasn’t too difficult a task to imagine that lucifer probably had the same type of content written down for that last section as well. 

the frustration empties itself from your chest in the form of a loud groan while your fingers travel to your forehead. 

the only thing left to do was this stupid oncology section, but how were you going to outdo lee hyunjae? sure, the rest of the research report would already be different; every pocket of free time you found in between your rounds with doctor choi, you were working on it. lee hyunjae was nowhere to be found either during those free periods, so what else would he be doing besides filling up the research report?

there was no more room for your own research and understanding of oncology to beat him. you were a neurologist after all, not an oncologist. 

why did doctor kim even include the oncology section when he knew it was going to be difficult for me to get the information?

“arghhhhhhh--” your vision flashes white for a split second at the sudden sitting up, and you place your laptop down off the cushion. the rug covering the living room floor brings comfort to your toes as you stood up and ran your fingers through your hair. 

the painful, but satisfying memory of what happened pre-med school starts to roll in your head like an old VHS tape. the look in lucifer’s eyes when you had him against the locker, the only thing stopping you from driving a test tube down his throat were the long arms of law. 

otherwise, it was sweet, almost diabetic, to watch him crumble and lose to you despite him being the fire starter. 

but then again, you lost the first boy you ever loved because of lee hyunjae. 

you couldn’t even convince yourself that you won.

the VHS tape in your head starts to burn and disintegrate into ashes while the nostalgic fire lights up in your chest, and the thought of losing to him four years ago made you want to get that oncology section done.

your inner ares picks up the file and flips to the last page where the word ‘oncology’ was printed in big, block letters at the top, followed by a bunch of details and information with hypothetical questions listed down. 

the left brow on your face twitches and the muscle movement felt so eerily detached from you, a surge of unstoppable desire erupting inside you like mount vesuvius in 79 AD. 

if you could possess a single power right now, it’ll be pyrokinesis. 

~

the light shining into your office was so bright and warm, it would’ve been a crime not to talk a walk outside. 

you would’ve, but not today. 

lucifer’s office door opens and closes and you notice him heading off in the direction of the washroom, and your peripheral vision captures the oncology page of the hospital website on the computer screen. 

after waiting it out for a safe period of time, you adjust the white coat to hide the color of your breast pocket (where the color differentiated which department you were in) and shoved the staff ID card down the back pocket of your jeans. you grab your file, phone in hand and the gears in your head start to churn out some smart excuse in case anybody were to question why you, a newcomer, looked like you were about to go for a meeting. 

you head for the lift, fingers dancing around while you searched for the floor that connected the east wing over to the north. 

you were already beginning to recite that excuse you built in your head in case doctor kim runs into you while you were walking through the north wing. 

but zeus must’ve decided that one half of his sons deserved some love today, for you run into zero staff who didn’t pay attention to the absence of your staff ID around your neck.

your eyes follow the signs to the west wing, and that was where you started to notice people you really haven’t seen before. 

the atmosphere changed once you got to the office level where all the oncology doctors would be, and most of the staff looked like they had been working without a wink of sleep. 

your vision and attention start to dart around the hallways and doors, trying to look for a name tag on a door that said ‘shin ga hyun’ or something along the lines of oncology research archi--

there we go.

the words ‘research facility’ printed in block letters on the door of the room looked like the word ‘victory’ in another language, and you could only thank zeus for being so kind to you today. 

the lab coat on you and the file case you were holding was enough to prove that you were a staff here, so even if shin ga hyun were to find out you were in her wing, there was nothing she could do about it besides get mad at you for “losing your way while searching for research content”.

the staff ID card slides out from your jeans so you could give yourself access to the dark room, and you notice the only view in was through the little window on the door itself. 

once the door was open, your first step was to get it closed, regardless of whether your eyes could adjust to the orientation of the room. 

relief floods through you, and you quickly wonder why you were so scared of something that wasn’t even illegal. 

a small snort runs through your nose at the thought that you were scared, because frankly, there wasn’t much that could scare you anymore. maybe sometimes, just sometimes, the only thing that could scare you was yourself.

the scent of old paper and files fill your nostrils with every drawer and cabinet you opened, and you start searching for documents with information to grant you access to the oncology database, but not one single sheet of paper satiates your thirst to win. 

your heart was already zipping back and forth in your chest, and the emptiness of the room only reminds you that anybody could come in anytime. your eyes look around the dimly lit room and you note the gap between the lockers behind the desk and the wall where you could run and hide in case someone came in--

“...yes, ga hyun, everything regarding the department’s database have been shifted to your office.”

the pupils on your eyeballs shrink in a second and something similar to a heart attack tears through your chest at the name. the footsteps halt right outside the door and you close the drawer with such calculated strength to prevent yourself from slamming it shut. your heels turn towards the corner and it takes you three incredibly large steps to get you there.

but everything happened so fast that you didn’t even register the fact that you got pulled into that little corner. 

you would’ve rammed your knee so high up this man’s groin if he wasn’t going to scream like a fucking baby if you did. 

“what the fuck are you doing here?!” he mouths angrily at you, ears red and cheeks flushed with fear when the door of the room clicks open. 

“are you sure everything related to the database has been cleared out this room?” shin ga hyun sounded like she’d slit your throat and show no signs of remorse.

“what do you think?!” this silent conversation was going to warrant you a reason to punch him in the face later.

“yes, doctor shin,” the second voice sounded so dead and unbothered, you imagine it had to be someone of a more senior position than shin ga hyun for her to talk to the department head like that. “there may be a few stray sheets here and there but if they weren’t filed properly in the first place, then it’s highly likely they weren’t too important.”

“don’t fucking touch me!” his arm brushes against your shoulder and if you could scream, it would’ve deafened him.

“if you hadn’t come in, we wouldn’t be stuck in this shitty little gap!” 

your eyes widen at his sudden stoppage of mouthing, and you could hear the little breaths coming out after every consonant. 

“will you shut the fuck up?!”

“so you mean to tell me that there is a slight possibility that an important sheet of paper regarding our database is sitting around somewhere inside this room?”

“how can i shut up when i’m stuck in this godforsaken space with you?! i don’t even want to fucking breathe the same air as you!”

oh my fucking god, will he fucking shut his trap-- we are going to get caught--

“oh, my god,” an exasperated sigh fills the room. “ga hyun, you really need to take a chill pill.”

“don’t tell me to ‘take a chill pill’--”

“if you didn’t walk in here like you owned the fucking place, i wouldn’t have touched you!”

your index finger flies up to your lips and you beg him to shut up with your eyes.

but this piece of dumbshit-doctor doesn’t fucking get it--

you had a victory to claim, and you were not going to let him take that away from you. 

the ares inside you wraps your fingers around his face and shoves your lips between his, but your eyes were still wide open, looking out at the glass on the cabinet on the other side of the room to see a taller female trying to drag a shorter female out of the office. 

“you need to take a chill pill. the entire hospital is scared of you, honey. don’t you want to amend that?”

the scanner beeps, and the door clicks open. 

“if nobody’s done anything wrong then there’s no reason for them to be scared of me.”

“fair, but you need to start wearing a smile on your face more often!” the door hisses shut, and the footsteps start to move away. “i’ll get someone to check the database stuff for you then...”

ares leaves your body and your soul gets sucked back into its rightful place, and you don’t think you’ve shoved anyone, or anything for that matter, faster than you shoved lucifer off your face.

wincing in disgust, the back of your hand wipes the corner of your lips as a frown hardens on your forehead, and lucifer was busy sticking out his tongue like he had just eaten something spicy.

“son of a bitch,” the hiss seethes through your teeth as you walk out from the gap, deliberately running your shoulder against his left arm. “don’t you ever assume that i would let the thinnest strand of hair on my body touch you.”

the wrath and rage drips off your tongue like saliva while you walked, turning your head and looking over your shoulder to glare at lee hyunjae. 

“and don’t you ever fucking kiss me again!”

your staff card was barely inches away from the scanner when the words start to eat at your ego. 

“for your fucking information, i did not want my lips to be on yours,” you take two big steps to him who was walking towards you in a fit. “someone just didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

his breath was hitting your cheek rapidly, and you jab your tongue against the inside of your cheek, trying to claw your way through his self-proclaimed glare that he probably thinks scares you off. 

your suck your lips between your teeth and scrunch up your nose with effort, your right hand instinctively deciding that it was a good idea to shove him backwards before you left the room. 

throwing yourself into your own leather seat in your office and the beads of sweat on your forehead coming off onto a tissue, your eyes plaster themselves to the ceiling. 

mission failed.

not only that,

i had to kiss this motherfucking son of a bitch to shut his fucking ass up.

the tissue gets crumpled in your grasp at the thought of underestimating him, and you hurl the lightweight ball barely a metre away from you. 

doctor choi brings you on his final round for the day, and happiness was as simple as finding out that lucifer had been called to handle some boring admin work by the hospital administration because he screwed up somewhere in the system. 

the round was longer than expected, with one of doctor choi’s alzheimer’s patients talking to you about his childhood. doctor choi tries to steer you clear of the patient, worried that you were uncomfortable. but the stories he was telling you brought you back to a time when your parents were still pretty prominent in your life. doctor choi just leaves you with him until the nurses bring around his medicine as a distraction, providing you with a chance to leave before the patient keeps you for the night.

the evening sun paints the floor a tangerine shade, through the glass doors of the offices. and in your hand was the black file with such reluctance and bitterness that you wish you didn’t agree to this whole research department thing in the first place.

most of the research department officers and doctors had evening duties to tend to before they left, so it was pretty quiet and desolate once you reached doctor kim’s desk with the idea of submitting the research report. 

yet the sight of the blue file strikes up a flame of confusion and suspicion. laying down your black file, your fingerpads brush over the cover of the blue one, and ares returns to whisper seductive motivations in your ear. 

you run through the pages, not surprised that most of the data was different from yours, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the five-thousand-word-long report behind the oncology cover sheet. 

motherfucker.

he must’ve found one of those ‘stray sheets’ for the database while he was snooping in the room. 

red bursts of revenge and hatred start to rush through your veins, and you pull apart the rings of the file to remove the ridiculously long report. 

the papers were messily stuffed into your work case and you return the file back to its original position, in time for doctor kim to return to his cubicle.

“ah, i was waiting to see if you were going to submit it today!” he gleams at you, and his warm, elderly aura comforts you, peeling you away from the horrible deed you just carried out. 

“well, yeah... but i have to confess, i didn’t do much for the oncology report at the back.”

“i was already expecting that after i warned you about doctor shin! but nevermind that, i look forward to reading your report.”

“oh but, uh...” you rub the back of your neck. “have you looked through doctor lee’s? it looks pretty thick.”

doctor kim’s palm finds the two files and he shakes his head. “oh, nope. he just gave me this wide smile and told me to read his file like i was reading a book. his confidence is really something else.”

oh, thank god.

“i see,” the sugary taste of satisfaction rubs itself into your taste buds. “i hope we didn’t let you down, doctor kim. we really worked hard on it.”

the smile doesn’t leave his face, and he only gives you a small pat on the shoulder. “i will look forward to reading both reports.” he nods, and you take your cue to bow and bid goodbye. 

~

your living room was barely lit up with the only source of light being the one from the kitchen, and the gentle chirps of crickets outside were muffled through the sliding doors of your living room.

the wine in your glass was practically frolicking about with your little dance of triumph of the day. though part of the reason why you were drinking wine was to force yourself to forget that you kissed lucifer -- ew --, you were also drinking to celebrate. 

“well,” you pout at the little cactus that sat in the middle of the table in your living room. “he should thank me for removing it. doctor kim could figure out that he only got the information from snooping into the oncology department and he could get trouble for it.”

talking to yourself wasn’t a daily routine, but you just couldn’t resist the temptation of convincing yourself that you did nothing wrong. 

which in fact, you did not. 

but the competitiveness seeps through your bones and makes your stomach churn with regret and displeasure again, when the realisation sinks into your head. 

why am i always one step behind you?

with a contorted look of discontentment staring back at you in the reflection of the wine glass, you lift the rim to your lips and down the rest of it like they were shots. 

“i should’ve known he was going to do it,” the wine bottle calls out to you like a siren, and your fingers wrap around the cool, glass surface. “if i did it sooner, i might’ve gotten the fucking database information--”

knock knock

you berate zeus for sending a visitor at such a shitty time, throwing your head backwards and squeezing your eyes shut. 

knock knock knock knock knock knock

“ugh, mom! i told you not to visit me on a weekday!” the release of the wine bottle only fills your stomach with disappointment as you trudged towards the door. 

with enough frustration to fuel your grip around the handle, you yank the heavy door open.

“mom, what are you-- oh.” 

shit.

flares of aching poison start to pierce their way into your eyes upon the eye contact, and your knuckles whiten with the tightening grip on the handle of your door. 

“you’re gonna wish it was your mom, alright.”

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

Chapter V: Monitum

[hanjisungz-remade]

love equation ☽ minho

✦ genre: friends to lovers au, college au, fluff, slight angst ✦ description: minho’s ideas were dangerous but of course, as his best friend, you went along with them all. this one, however, could be dangerous for you. specifically your heart ✦ pairings: lee minho x reader ✦ word count: 11.5k ✦ warnings: mild language, slightly suggestive at points ✦ a/n: i decided i wanted to get back into writing fics and here is my first fic in three years! i’m a little bit rusty but i hope you all like it ♡

i.

“Ta-da! All done.” You smiled, taking a step back to admire the work you’d done. Small picture frames littered the walls of your new bedroom, stereotypical fairy lights decorating the empty space around it. It wasn’t night just yet, but you were excited to be able to lay down and see a recreation of the night sky on your ceiling.

However, as soon as you stopped hanging everything up, a sharp pain shot through your back. A shockwave of small pricks traveling from your lower back to above your shoulder blades. Suddenly everything seemed too much, the pain making you lightheaded.

Turning on your heels, you slowly walked out to your living room, plopping down on the couch and bringing both of your hands to your back. As much as you tried to massage out the pain, there was only so much your own reach could do. 

Great, first day of college and you get hurt, you thought. 

Just as you were about to text your best friend, Minho, to see if he had gotten settled in, you heard a knock at your door. Before you could ask who it is, the person at the other side sighed, “Don’t keep me waiting all day!” Speak of the devil, you thought as you continued the assault on your taut muscles.

“Door’s open!” You shout, maybe too loud, at Minho, watching as he flung open the door and looked around the room, eyes settling on you wincing in pain.

“First of all, lock your door! You don’t know what kind of creep can just walk in.”

Before he could continue you interrupted, “Like you just did?”

Minho raised his eyebrows almost to his hairline, “You’re the one that let me in!” There’s a slight pause before he continued on, his face now shifted to one of concern, “What happened to you?”

Leaning back so your head rested on the wall behind you, you groaned again, “I was hanging up picture frames in my bedroom and I must have pulled a muscle.” You winced as you sat up, hands continuing to massage your lower back. “Or multiple muscles.” 

Sitting up caused you to get a full look at what Minho was wearing. A pair of black basketball shorts along with an old Metallica shirt that was a little too big on him settled on his frame. It was big enough to dip down in the front, showing his collarbones and the silver chain necklace that always hung around his neck. You knew these were his relaxed, “i-look-bad-but-i-don't-care” clothes, but why did he look so good?!

You found yourself staring at him and you tried to shake off the thoughts of finding your best friend that attractive but no one could deny that Lee Minho had always been one of the most attractive guys in your class.

Said man seemed to notice your eyes glazed over, because he suddenly appeared right in front of you, hand waving furiously across your face, “Hello? Earth to Y/N? Anyone in there?” He raised a hand, presumably to hit you on the head, but then quickly retracted it.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry I was just thinking about classes starting tomorrow.” You chuckled, wincing slightly as a shock ran up your back. Surely these thoughts would pass, they always did. 

Minho moved around to sit next to you, smiling as he bounced up and down on your couch. “I’m so excited! My first class is choreography 101 and I heard the instructor made dances for all the big pop stars!” He leaned into you, looking up at the empty space. “Think of it. Taylor Swift, Harry Styles, Beyonce, I could be one of those people to make dances for them!” His arms outstretched before he whipped around to face you.

Suddenly you realized just how close you were, and you’ve been this close before but now you focused on how his eyes sparkled when he talked about the one thing he loved. You shook those thoughts away, seeing his bright smile and immediately countering with your own. 

“That sounds great, Min! I’m sure you’ll be one of the best choreographers in the world.” Again, you shook off the intense beating of your heart and forced yourself not to let your eyes wander down to Minho’s lips. No matter how much it tempted you, you would resist.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend, you're required to say it.” He nudged your side, standing up and looking around once. “Your dorm is actually really cool, and you're lucky you don’t have a roommate.” Pausing, he looked at you, wiggling his eyebrows in a very mischievous and very Minho-like way. “You can bring guys over and not worry about thin walls.”

He knew you had never dated anyone before, much less had to worry about ‘thin walls’, yet he always used it tease you lightly. You had thought about dating before, but as you always countered back at him, you weren’t sure how it was supposed to work. Sure, people meet and they get together, but what happens after that? It was like some sort of mystery that you were way too skeptical to jump into.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone in your geeky science classes! You know, a cute chemist that can woo you with a love potion.” Minho waved his hand around as if he was holding a wand.

You rolled your eyes as his suggestion, yet the idea didn’t seem that bad. Maybe you could get your mind off of your newfound feelings for Minho (that were probably always there yet you refused to believe) and score yourself your first relationship.

“I guess that doesn’t sound that bad.” You said, standing up from the couch and stretching. The pain in your back had diminished somewhat, and you found yourself feeling somewhat liberated from the worries of freshman year.

“What are your classes tomorrow?” Minho backed up into the doorframe, waving hello to some of the people passing by.

“Uh, Chemistry Lab and English Lit.” You replied.

“Are we still going to have our monthly movie nights?” His voice sounded hopeful and you smiled gently at him. 

You walked up to him in the doorway, reaching one hand up and ruffling his already tousled hair. “Of course, Min. You’re only a building away now so we can watch even more movies.”

“Awesome, I can’t wait.” Minho leaned forward, moving one hand from the doorframe and resting his hand on your head, repeating the same motion you did to him.

He ran away laughing before you could do anything about it, but you got one good, “asshole!” in before he rounded the corner, out of your sight and hopefully out of your mind.

ii.

Walking into your first class of your new college life was nerve wracking, to say the least, and you hadn’t started off the day too well either. First, you woke up to a loud argument from the room next to you. It’s the first day and there’s already yelling?! Then, you almost forgot your student ID, effectively locking you out of the classroom buildings. And finally, the icing on the cake, you almost burst into a class in the middle of a test because you thought it was yours and you knew you would be dreaming about that horrifically embarrassing moment for years to come.

Luckily, none of that happened, and you passed through your English Lit class with just a large book and thick packet the teacher deemed as the syllabus. Next was Chemistry and as you looked around the room, there were only two empty seats. One of them being right in front of the teacher’s desk and the other being next to a guy already messing with the beakers sat in front of each table. Since it was your very first day of class, you decided against sitting right in front of the teacher, opting to slowly approach the man that was really engrossed in whatever he was doing.

“Hello?” You asked, speaking loud enough to be heard amongst the pre-class chatter throughout the room. “Can I sit here?”

When he turned around, you took notice of his soft brown eyes. He seemed surprised, mouth hung open as he looked to the beaker in his hand and then at the empty seat next to you.

“Oh, yeah! Of course.” He answered, sliding over slightly to make room for you. “My name is Chan.”

“Nice to meet you, my name is Y/N.” You took out a pen, eyes drifting to his hands holding the beaker. Chan went back to looking at it suspiciously, eyebrows furrowed in a tight line. “Um, can I ask what you’re doing?” You asked. You didn’t know where this confidence came from, you would normally never interact with classmates unless instructed to, but you already found yourself somewhat comfortable around Chan.

He chuckled, and your eyes were drawn to his big smile and the one dimple poking at his right cheek. “I was just checking to make sure there wasn’t any extra residue from past classes left in here. I wouldn’t want any extra cesium or germane left in here and then we all go boom!”

You were impressed by his knowledge, nodding your head and waiting for class to start. Tapping your pen, you looked around at the other students. They all seemed engulfed in the beakers in front of them. Some turned on the burners while others went to the front where small bags were arranged in groups.

“Are we supposed to be starting an experiment?” You looked around the room again, and then to the paper at the front of your desk. Picking it up, you noticed Chan coming closer to you, head peering over at the paper.

“Pick up the bags of chemicals on the table up front.” Chan read aloud, “Then test each chemical, recording your findings on each one. This assignment is a team assignment. Work with your partner next to you. Good luck!”

Immediately he went to grab the bags and you couldn’t help but look him up and down. His shoulders were very wide, the hint of two earrings poking out from behind his curly hair and there were three rings all on his right hand. You weren’t sure why you were checking him out this much, but he held a dorky and interesting aura that made you want to find out more.

As he was walking back, he held up the bags, all with various different colors, and said in an all too cheery but very sweet voice, “Ready to do this, partner?”

You mimicked his smile, “Let’s go, partner.”

iii.

After your second chemistry class, Chan had asked for your number and feeling that this was an opportunity to try and banish your feelings for Minho and possibly get yourself your first boyfriend, you agreed. Honestly you weren’t sure if Chan thought of you in the same way, but the image of his smile clouded your judgement so you agreed. 

For the past two days you had been texting him and asking about the countless textbook pages that you were assigned as homework. Of course no one in the class wanted to do them, but you figured having someone to motivate you by saying he’s already finished the pages could be of some help.

Now it was Saturday and you could feel the relaxation taking over as you got back from the library, checking out books on the various chemical reactions that water could have to prepare for a quiz next week. As soon as you walked through your door you ran into your room, changing into a soft baggy shirt and shorts. The weather hadn’t changed from warm to cold yet, so you knew you had a few more weeks until you could dodge shaving for a day or two in favor of wearing jeans.

You’re snapped back to reality as you heard someone knock on the door, immediately remembering that this was your monthly movie night with Minho. You two had been doing this since the beginning of high school and very rarely had you missed a month, and those had been because of severe stomach flu and a date Minho had that he swore he couldn’t pass up even though they broke up two weeks later.

You ran to the door after the knocking turned into more of a drum beat. “Okay, okay I’m coming. Calm your ass.” 

“I wasn’t the one that said 5 PM on the dot. You’re the one that’s late.” Minho walked through the door with a stack of movies in his arms and all of a sudden you were reminded of your annoying feelings for this man.

“I figured we could start with one or two and if it’s too late we could hit the hay and leave the rest here for next month.” He turned around and you noticed the small dark bags under his eyes. You hadn’t texted him much if at all this week, too focused on the start of all your classes this semester but you knew he must be exhausted from all the dance classes he took. It was his major but there was only so much your legs could move before they gave out.

“You look tired.” You remarked, walking over to the couch and motioning for him to sit next to you.

He obliged, sitting down with a thump and resting his head just as you had done the weekend before. “I practiced late last night finishing this short dance piece for class. It’s nothing,” Minho picked his head up and shot you a smile, “I’ll be fine.”

You eyed him suspiciously, not fully believing him, but instead nodding. “Okay.” Then you turned your head to the stack of movies, flipping through them and settling on a scary one you didn’t think you had seen before. “I haven’t seen this one, have you?” Minho shook his head. “Great, let’s start.”

You stood up to put the movie in the DVD player before settling back onto the couch in the most comfortable position. Your feet were resting in Minho’s lap, his hands softly tapping a beat onto your shins. You noticed he was wearing a similar outfit to the last time you saw him, this time with a brightly tie dyed Nirvana shirt. 

Before your mind could wander, you heard the loud screams from the screen and you snapped your attention back to the movie. You didn’t want to think about how much you wanted to be wrapped in his arms or how much you craved his fingers dancing down your arms or face before he kissed you. You didn’t want to think about it, so you forced yourself to watch the already cheesy thrasher movie playing in front of you.

You noticed Minho’s hands would squeeze your leg when a jumpscare popped up, the slight pressure causing you to look up at him. His eyes were squinted, lips set in a straight line as he cocked his head to the side. It seemed he thought this movie was bad, and you definitely couldn't disagree with that sentiment.

Suddenly Minho leaned forward and paused the movie, hand flinging up towards the screen. “Look at that! This relationship is not realistic.” You shrugged, not knowing exactly what a realistic relationship would look like, yet letting him go on. “It’s so obvious that the guy is gonna die and she’s going to be the only one left at the end.” Something close to a scowl crept up on his face.

“I agree this movie is trash, but I want to see the end.” You sat up and shrugged again. “Besides, I don’t know what a realistic relationship looks like so I thought they looked cute.” You chuckled, turning around when you heard your phone beep. 

It was Chan, texting you a joke about the chemicals you were learning about and you found yourself laughing softly at it. Minho leaned forward, peering over your shoulder, a sound of surprise coming from him as he sat back, “Did you find someone? He better be good if he’s interrupting our monthly movie night.” His voice sounded hopeful, yet you thought there was a hint of disappointment. Maybe that was just your own brain hoping, so you brushed past it. 

“I don’t know, maybe? His name is Chan and he’s my lab partner for chemistry.” You looked up from your phone, a small frown on your face. “You know I’m not good with relationships, Min. I’m worried I’ll mess something up.”

Minho nodded along, one side of his mouth tilted up as if he was deep in thought. “I have an idea.” He finally spit out after sitting there for a minute.

Normally when Minho said he had an idea, you were terrified, to say the least, since those ideas usually consisted of something dangerous or potentially trouble-causing. But of course, you were his best friend, so you almost always went along with whatever plan he had. You signaled for him to say it, but you were not expecting what came out of his mouth.

“Well, you’ve never been in a relationship. And I don’t want inexperience to get in between you and a good guy, so why don’t I show you how you should be treated in a relationship?” His tone was nonchalant but you saw a nervousness behind his eyes. And at that moment you knew that this idea of his was dangerous. It was dangerous for your heart.

Yet you still nodded. What could go wrong? You thought as you clarified, “so you mean like pretending to date?”

Minho shrugged, “I guess? I didn’t think past this point.” He sat up, grabbing both of your hands. He was warm, and the thought of those hands cupping your face made your heart speed up. “I want you to have some experience before you find someone. I don’t want you to be an awkward mess.” He chuckled and you found yourself relaxing and laughing back. “I just thought we could do some couple things, I could show you the ropes, and when you feel like you're ready, you can go after this Chan guy with all the knowledge you gained from me. It’s like best friends with romantic benefits.”

The thought of experiencing anything close to romantic with Minho made your heart almost explode out of your chest, yet you thought that maybe if you did this it would somehow satisfy your feelings for him and you could move on.

So you nodded again. “Sure,” you said, smiling, “let’s do it.”

“Cool. Now come here.” Minho sat back, motioning for you to come closer so you did. Your knees moved against the plush couch and as soon as you were close enough, Minho’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. You let out a soft sound of surprise as your head was met with his chest.

You had cuddled with Minho before, after a sad movie when you just needed a shoulder to cry on, after getting accepted to college and you fell asleep on him that night talking about how excited you were to be going to the same school. 

But this was different. This was Minho moving one hand to start the movie again. This was Minho resting one hand on your arm, fingers going back to tapping a soft rhythm. This was Minho and his scent invading your nose. This was your best friend softly holding you as you relaxed into his touch.

“I know it’s trash but how about we have a bad movie night?” He didn’t need to raise his voice much, your ear pressed against his chest. You could practically hear the rumble in his chest as he spoke. You had expected it to become awkward, but after a breath, you relaxed into his arms, one of your own hesitantly resting on his stomach.

“Is this right?” You asked, wanting to get as much information as you could. If this was supposed to be a learning experience you were going to make the most of it.

Minho chuckled and you felt the vibrations through your whole body. “Yea, that’s good, but you can move your head to wherever you feel comfortable.”

Your back was starting to ache from this position, so you listened to Minho’s words, adjusting yourself so that your forehead was against his neck. Your hand that was previously on his stomach went to wrap around his torso. 

On an instinct that only comes with a lot of experience, Minho’s hand went to your back, his palm moving slowly up and down your spine. You felt a shiver run through you which made no sense because Minho was really warm and that warmth spread from head to toe.

You thought about just how many people Minho had done this with. You knew just how many significant others he’d had, and the thought of anyone else doing this with him stung just a little bit.

It also stung to know that eventually you would go back to best friends and he would likely forget this ever happened. As much as you wanted to push back the feelings, you felt a small spark in your stomach and you knew if you let this go on for a while it would only cause you pain.

Minho must have sensed your tense shoulders because the hand that was on your back moved to your hair. His fingertips danced across your scalp. “You okay Y/N?” His voice was soft, head tilting down and you could feel his lips inches away from your forehead. The way he said your voice could only be described as delicate. It was a soft whisper said into thin air and if you hadn’t been pressed right up against him you were sure you wouldn't have heard it.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just cold.” Your voice mimicked his own, your breath fanning out against his shirt. Though you knew it would hurt, you decided that you would throw caution into the wind and just enjoy the now.

As you continued on with the movie, you took notice of Minho’s hand. One rested on the side of the couch, ready to turn off the movie if it got too bad, while the other alternated from resting on your arm to rubbing soothing circles into your back.

Everything overwhelmed your senses. His hand felt soft on your back, touching you as if you were porcelain. His shirt smelled of laundry detergent but with your nose pressed into his neck you caught a scent that was obviously very Minho. You couldn’t put your finger on it particularly, but it was a smell that you didn't think you could ever identify except by one name, Minho. His heart thumped against your ear, and it reminded you of just how real this was and how his heartbeat was oddly fast.

A sense of comfort washed over you, and you realized you were subconsciously drawing circles into Minho’s stomach with your right hand. His shirt was soft and you had the overwhelming urge to slip under his shirt and find out if his skin was just as plush.

Suddenly all of the exhaustion you had pushed off from the week caught up to you. Your eyelids drooped down halfway, and you felt Minho move his head, peering down at you. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” He chuckled.

He had called you countless nicknames before, some jokingly vulgar and others only someone who you were close with could use, but sweetheart was different. It made you smile and oblige his words, letting yourself fall into a slumber with a smile stuck on your face.

iv.

A soft swaying woke you from your dream. You hadn’t even remembered exactly what the dream was about, but you knew that Minho was there and you thought it must have been a good thing you didn’t remember.

Air sweeped below you and you realized that you weren’t standing nor sitting, you were being carried, albeit very carefully. You felt the tentative steps of the person carrying you and you could only assume it was Minho. 

His arms were holding you gently, so much so that you could barely feel his fingers touching your shoulders and legs. You knew he was strong, but he moved with such light steps that it seemed as though he had no trouble in transporting you to your bedroom.

It was only another moment before you felt your body on the mattress and you decided to act as if you were still sleeping. You let your body naturally curl onto your side and it was then you remembered that it was probably late. You weren’t sure how long you slept but it was still too late for Minho to walk to his dorm. 

You thought about waking up and asking him if he wanted to sleep on the couch or with you, but you were stopped by the feeling of a warm body pulling you softly against him. When your back hit something hard, you almost gave yourself away, gasping as an arm settled onto your waist.

This wasn’t the first time you found yourself in this position with Minho. Hell, you had known each other for nearly 10 years of your life, there wasn’t much you had kept private from Minho and vice versa. But this part, this vulnerable and far too touch deprived side of you, had never been shown to anyone and it was terrifying.

The tendrils of sleep were just about to overcome you when you remembered something that made your stomach flip and your heart start racing. Minho didn’t know you were awake. Why would he do these things if he knew you wouldn’t know? 

Surely it was for when you woke up. Surely it wasn’t your mind running a mile a minute. You couldn't help but hold a small bit of hope, however, as you finally drifted off into sleep.

v. 

It had been three days since your agreement with Minho and you were met with radio silence. It’s not like you’re dating you thought to yourself as you walked back to your dorm from your final lecture of the day.

However as soon as you set your books down, your phone rang, the familiar contact name of ‘my favorite asshole’ popping up on the screen. It had been Minho who had changed his contact name, claiming it was “way too basic for your best friend.”

“Hey, what’s up?” You tried not to sound too upset at the lack of communication but you knew Minho like the back of your hand and you also knew that Minho knew you like the back of his hand.

“Practicing for an exam coming up next week.” His voice echoed and you were about to try and distract him with questions but he beat you to it. “Are you okay? You sound weird.”

“I’m just tired as fuck. Two tests and a lab experiment has been kicking my ass.” You replied and you weren’t lying, your back was starting to ache again from the constant moving around in Chemistry and you could feel a headache coming on.

There was a pause on the other line as Minho seemed to contemplate something. “Do you just wanna rest then?”

“I don’t know, I have some homework I should finish before I even think about a nap.” As soon as you replied, you followed up with a very curious, “Why? What’s up?”

Minho’s voice quieted for the moment, like someone was next to him and he didn’t want them to hear what he was saying. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come over and watch me practice. It’s been a while since we hung out and I miss my best friend.” There it was, best friend. It's exactly what you were, except you couldn’t help but feel a small pang in your chest. His voice dropped even quieter this time. “But you have to be sneaky, my dance teacher is strict about not letting dance students in the practice rooms.”

“Yea, sure. That sounds fun.” You grabbed your books, thinking you could get some work in. “I miss my best friend too.” You smiled. “Even if you’re an asshole sometimes.”

The giggle on the other side of the phone caused you to feel that warmth that you did three days ago. “But I’m you’re favorite asshole.” Minho countered.

He hung up before you could reply, so you gathered your things and headed to the dance studio.

The walk to the studio didn’t take long, in fact it was only two buildings over, so you got there rather quickly. After texting Minho you were there, you heard the door unlock and a fluffy haired Minho poke his head out.

“Come on in.” He held the door open for you, the hand that wasn’t gripped onto the door coming to rest on your lower back. It was surprising but you willed yourself not to get too taken aback. This was all part of the agreement. 

It felt nice to be treated like that, however. How am I gonna find someone like Minho after this deal is over? You thought to yourself as said man steered you towards his practice room. The hand on your back was light but you definitely felt his presence there. His voice could be heard over the multitude of ‘what if’s flying around your head, but you had no idea what he was saying.

“You’re not listening to me.” He chuckled and opened the door for you, stepping in behind you while you looked around. The floor was shiny, all leading up to mirrors on three of the walls. It was weird seeing yourself from all different angles and you had to admit you looked tired.

“To be fair I never listen to you.” You countered against him, a smirk playing on your face as you walked towards the middle of the room. Your appearance stuck out in each of the mirror walls you looked at. There were deep bags under your eyes and you noticed a sense of fatigue hiding behind them. 

“I look like shit.” You laughed, but you weren’t joking. Classes were draining and you could barely recognize yourself in the mirror.

“You look fine, sweetheart.” Minho laughed breathy and exhausted.

You saw Minho in the mirror walk up behind you, his hands rested on your shoulders. Instead of looking him in the eyes through the mirror, you opted to stare at his hands. His fingers dug into your shoulders, thumbs pressing just between your shoulder blades and an immense feeling of relief shot through you.

“Does that help?” He asked, fingers working deeper into your muscles.

It was as if all the stress and fatigue was slowly being lifted off of you as Minho’s hands worked magic. Instead of answering his question, you let out a soft sign followed by a groan, hoping that was an acceptable answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Minho laughed and continued like that for a minute. Small groans and sighs of relief were the only thing echoing off the walls. Although it had been more than a minute, it felt like just one second as he slowly stopped massaging you. “I don’t want to overdo it. You should sit down.” He motioned over to the bench in the corner.

As you walked over you took out your Chemistry textbook, “I’m gonna just get some reading done if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Just having you here makes me feel better.” Minho smiled at you through the mirror. “I hope the music won’t distract you though.”

You shook your head, smiling back at the man in front of you. “No, I should be fine. Go ahead and practice.”

As soon as he turned to the audio machine, busy looking through the computer to find the song, you observed his outfit. He was wearing the baggy black sweatpants tucked into sneakers. Then you noticed his shirt. He was wearing a tank top, the straps resting on his shoulders but were so thin they threatened to slip off.

Music blasted through the studio and you recognized the smooth beats that washed over you. Soft drums hit your ears and you couldn't help but nod your head along as you read your textbook. It was only ten more pages you had to read and then you could curl up in bed and sleep.

You tried to finish reading the page on various chemical reactions but your temptation got the better of you and snuck a glance up at Minho and wow. The dance seemed to edge on the sensual side and you were surprised they weren’t assigned a partner for this. His hips rocked perfectly to the rhythm and you didn’t dare look at his eyes. You had seen him dance before and the look in his eyes when he danced could make any person melt from the sheer passion and determination.

You weren't sure exactly when he had gotten so muscular but you assumed him dedicating his life to dancing helped build them. He wasn’t ripped, per say, but he had just the right amount of muscle to prevent you from teasing him with string bean comments. Not to mention his thighs. The majority of his power resided in his thighs and you knew if you kept thinking about him you would dig yourself a deeper hole.

Somewhere in the trenches of you damn near drooling over Minho, you were startled by the door to the practice room being flung open. A woman dressed in workout shorts and a baggy crop top walks in, eyes following Minho’s movements before landing on you sitting in the far corner of the room.

“I thought I told you only dance students in this building.” The woman raised her voice over the music before finally going and turning it off. “Who is this?” She pointed towards you and you ducked your eyes down in embarrassment.

Minho paused for a moment, thinking of what to say before he finally blurts out, “They’re my significant other.” If you had been eating or drinking anything you’re sure you would have choked, but you tried to keep your composure as he continued, “They were going to work on homework but the library was closed and I offered to let them work here. I’m sorry Mrs. Lee.”

The dance teacher looked between you and Minho, and you decided to try and help the situation. “I’m so sorry. Don’t blame Minho, blame me. I wanted to spend some time with him but we were both busy with homework and I figured this would work. Again, I’m sorry. I won’t come back.” Your voice remained steady as you tried to play into the perception that you and Minho were actually dating. Although with the feelings blooming in you recently it wasn’t hard to act as though you wanted to spend time with him.

A loud sigh escaped her, her face softening slightly. “Ah, young love. I was there once.” You felt your face heat up. “Minho,” she directed her attention towards him, leaving you to observe, “You’re one of the best students in this class. Perhaps I can let this pass, as long as your choreography assignment is up to my expectations.”

“It is!” You smiled up at Mrs. Lee. “I haven’t seen it all but he’s one of the best dancers I know and you won’t be disappointed.” 

She nodded curtly, turning around on her heels and making a swift exit.

As soon as she left, you felt Minho’s eyes on you. You avoided it for as long as you could before you heard Minho say your name. “Yeah?” You replied, looking up at him.

“I hope you're okay with me saying that to Mrs. Lee. If you want I can go tell her we aren’t-”

“No!” You cut him off maybe too quickly. “I mean, I don’t mind it. It’s helping me get experience isn’t it? Being introduced as someone’s significant other.” You didn’t add how much hearing it come from Minho’s mouth made a million sparklers go off in your stomach, nor did you add that now you’ve heard him say it, you never wanted him to stop saying it.

“Okay.” Was all Minho said before motioning towards the computer, the song he was dancing too that was paused by Mrs. Lee waiting to be started again. “I’m gonna practice again.”

You nodded. “Of course. I’m going to try and finish this chapter and then I might head home and hit the hay early.” As you looked into his eyes, you saw the deep bags that mirrored your own. “You should get some sleep too, Min. You look exhausted.”

Minho hesitated, shrugging his shoulders slowly. You could almost see his muscles working overtime just to keep him upright. “I should be fine, sweetheart. Don't worry about me.” He turned around so you could no longer see his face, not even in the mirror in front of you. “Maybe you should just head out and get some sleep. I don't want you to fall asleep in Chemistry tomorrow.”

Confusion flashed across your features as you stood up. You put your textbook in your bag, walking up to Minho and resting your hand on his shoulder. “No.” You spoke sternly, set on making him listen to you. “I refuse to leave unless you’re leaving with me. I don’t like seeing you like this, Min. It hurts me as much as it hurts you.”

Minho knew you like the back of his hand, and he knew you were firm in your statement. You really wouldn't leave until he did. A long sigh escaped his lips, air cascading into the already stuffy dance room.

Instinctively, your other hand raised to his other shoulder, pulling him closer to you. Minho’s muscles relaxed as he loosely wrapped his arms around your waist. His thumbs pressed lightly into your spine and that familiar wave of electricity surged from your head to your toes. 

Hot breath fanned across your neck as Minho nuzzled his head there. It was weird having someone that close to you and it reminded you of just how vulnerable you were. You ran your fingers around his neck to the nape of his head, playing with the small hairs that tickled you.

Sure, you had hugged Minho before, but nothing like this. This was holding someone in one of their darkest moments. This was fearing to speak in fear of reality coming crashing back to you. This was letting your existence speak for itself. This was your soul latching itself onto Minho’s. This was the moment you finally had to admit to yourself. 

I am hopelessly and madly in love with you, Lee Minho. 

After what felt like an eternity you separated yourself from him, but only enough to be able to see his face. “How about we go back to my room and sleep?” You weren’t sure what prompted you to ask that, but right now you didn’t want to be alone.

The corners of Minho’s mouth drooped as he nodded his head yes. In the span of ten minutes he had lost all his energy and you could tell he had been living off energy drinks and coffee. You knew it was hard for you, but you couldn’t imagine what it was like for Minho. Classes where you danced for an hour straight with no breaks, countless hours in the practice rooms forcing your limbs to move in this exact pattern or your whole assignment was ruined. You hated seeing him like this and hoped he would be better at taking care of himself eventually.

“Good. You can worry about your assignment tomorrow, but you need sleep, Min.” You smoothed one side of his messy hair down, heart clenching when Minho leans his head into your hand.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Minho trudged over to the computer, turning it off and unplugging his phone from the USB port. He grabbed his bag off the floor and looked to you sleepily. A hand was extended towards you and you had held hands with Minho before, but this, as did everything else that had happened recently, made you even more vulnerable.

Yet you reached out, your palm meeting Minho’s and your fingers locking together like a zipper. You hadn’t thought about just how well your hands fit with his until a silence washed over you and you were left to your own devices. Maybe your hands were always meant to find each other. Maybe this was fate saying that if the pieces fit together, it was meant to be.

The walk to your room was shrouded in silence, but you couldn’t say that you minded it. There wasn't always a need for words between you and Minho. It was like your minds connected in a way that you've never experienced with anyone else. You always joked you should never play poker together because you could tell when he was lying.

Minho held you close, except when you walked up to your dorm building, when he detached your hand from his and moved to open the door for you. Even now he was treating you like royalty. A small “thank you” left your lips as you entered the chilly front room.

You waited for Minho to walk through the door before you silently grasped his hand again, leading him towards the elevator doors. The woman at the desk watched you two, “You are just the cutest couple!” She whispered to you.

The pang in your chest was back, but you put on a smile and replied. “Thank you so much.”

In the elevator, Minho leaned more into your side. His eyes were open, but you knew he wasn’t fully coherent. He looked drained of all energy and you were scared that you might have to carry him to your room.

“Just a little bit more Min and you can sleep.” You ran your thumb over his hand lightly, smiling when Minho just tightened the grip he had.

As soon as you were in front of your room, you used the hand that wasn’t interlocked with Minho’s to get your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside. You locked the door behind you, setting the keys on the table next to the door and throwing your bag in front of the couch. 

You pried your hand from Minho’s only to be met with a sound of disapproval. Pulling the bag off of Minho’s shoulder, you gave him his wish and reconnected your hands, leading him to your room. 

It was dark outside, so you turned on the lamp beside your bed, watching as Minho stripped himself of his shirt and looked up at you from beneath his eyelashes. “Did you happen to save any of the clothes I've left at your house back home?”

Digging through your drawer, you're met with a sound of surprise because you knew you kept some of the clothes he’s left over the years, but you didn’t know you had packed them and brought them here when you came to college. You pulled out a pair of shorts that looked like his, holding them up, “Are these okay?”

Minho nods, grabbing the shorts and walking over to the other side of the bed. He doesn't bother telling you to turn around, you're best friends, you've almost seen worse from him.

You didn't think anything of it when he immediately striped himself of his sweatpants, quickly slipping on the pants that were a little bit loose but you knew he was going to fall asleep in a snap so you didn't say anything. You also didn't think anything of it when you pulled out sleep clothes for yourself and began to strip as well. The air conditioning in your room was on full blast and you shivered slightly at the cold air against your skin. You could feel the goosebumps on your skin as you pulled your shirt and pants on, turning around to face the bed once more.

The covers were already pulled back and Minho was sitting up in your bed. His hands were resting on his stomach, fingers interlaced and thumbs tapping another rhythm. He always had that habit, always getting yelled at by teachers for tapping on the desks during tests, always having music in his head that no one else could hear.

You took a moment to admire him before smiling at him, Minho immediately mirroring that smile back to you. He opened his arms, waving both of them as if to beckon you towards him. And it always worked, you knew it would always work because you couldn’t just say no to his tired face and hopeful grin.

Climbing into bed, you moved closer to Minho, hands instinctively going around his waist. It was as if whatever deity was up above heard your thoughts, because now there was no fabric barrier between you and Minho’s torso. Your thumb pressed lightly into his side, massaging circles into whatever skin you could reach.

One of Minho’s hands went to your back and the other one rested on your arm. Sleep immediately started to creep up on you but you snapped out of it when you heard Minho utter a soft apology to you.

You sat up, body feeling cold after moving away from him. “What are you sorry for?” You asked, one of your hands not moving from rubbing circles into his side.

There was a heavy silence in the room and you were scared of what would come next. What if he wants to stop this, whatever this is. What if something is wrong? 

“I’m sorry I haven't been able to treat you how you should be treated, I just wanted to show you what it was like to be treated right.” Minho’s eyes bore into your own and although you saw fatigue, you also saw a sense of sadness.

“Don’t apologize, Min. Everything you do tells me how I should be treated. You don’t have to be there for me 24/7 for me to know you are an amazing person.” You leaned forward, moving your hands to cup his cheeks. They were cold and you felt goosebumps rise on your arms. Your thumbs moved across his cheekbones and you watched as Minho closed his eyes. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend.”

You pulled the covers up, grabbing Minho by the shoulders and urging him to move down. “I know that once you get some sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning, okay?” You didn’t wait for him to confirm your statement and that was the last you saw of his face, because you opted for cuddling closer to him. The hand that was previously on his waist returned, your head finding purchase as it did before.

Your nose pressed into the junction of his shoulder and neck, the scent that could only be described by the name Minho much stronger now that there wasn’t any fabric in the way. “I like you just the way you are. And what you are is the best best friend I could ever ask for.”

The last thing you remember before sleep overcame you was a soft pressure on your forehead in what you could only guess was Minho’s lips, followed by him whispering. “Goodnight sweetheart.”

vi. 

Since that night two weeks ago, Minho had taken to sleeping over every night.

Not that you were complaining, no, you could never complain about having your best friend and newly discovered crush (was it just a crush at this point, though?) holding you like you were fine china every night. In fact, you would rather have him there with you as opposed to waking up every morning to cold air and an empty kitchen.

Now, waking up to an empty bed was unusual. So when you opened your eyes and found your arms clutching empty air you were confused.

Checking your clock on the bedside table you saw you had an hour until Chemistry (getting the email yesterday that your English Lit class was canceled for today was a blessing) and while you debated going back to sleep wishing Minho was with you, you also were curious if he was still here.

By now you had memorized his schedule, knowing he didn't have class until later in the afternoon, so the only explanation was that he had gone to the practice room. You didn’t blame him, since that night Minho had made it his mission to walk you back to your dorm after your last class of each day. Sometimes he would go back to practice and sometimes he would just gently guide you to bed, tracing patterns on your back until you fell asleep.

You knew you were in deep and you knew it would hurt when all of this eventually stopped but for now you wanted to enjoy the way Minho said your name paired with “sweetheart”, or the way he would hold you tight but not enough to hurt you.

The smell of something cooking snapped you out of your thoughts and you pulled the covers back, feet softly sliding across the carpeted floor. You silently stood in the doorway and watched as the small stove burner was bright red. A pan sat on the burner with a pale yellow scrambled egg in it.

From this angle you could only see Minho’s back and the way his shoulder muscles rippled under his skin as he messed with the pans and plates in front of him. He looked handsome. But not in the handsome that everyone else saw. Everyone saw the dancer, the student, the friend, the guy that walked into a room and just his presence drew attention. Yes, you saw that as well, but you also saw the vulnerability, the chivalry, the deepest parts of Lee Minho that he never showed to anyone else.

That made you fall even more in love with him.

Just as you were about to interrupt the silence, Minho turned around, breaking the silence on his own. “Hey.” He said, holding up the newly made plate of eggs and bacon.

“Goodmorning, Min.” You smiled, walking towards the small table and sitting down.

“I made breakfast. I figured you could eat and then I could walk you to class.” Minho explained as he set the plate down, putting another plate in front of himself as he sat opposite to you.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You replied, already starting to eat. 

You both sat in a comfortable silence until you both had finished, leaving you to get ready for class while Minho got ready to walk you there. 

As soon as you had finished getting ready you grabbed your bag and checked your phone. Ten minutes. You had ten minutes to get to class and you knew it would be busy as a lot of classes started and stopped around this time.

“Shit, we gotta go, Min. I don’t want to be late.” You grabbed your keys, quickly locking your door and grabbing Minho’s hand. At this point it was by impulse that you grabbed it and you were glad that he didn’t mind.

Before you could walk far, Minho stopped in the hall, making you turn around and face him. He grabbed your bag, slinging it over his own shoulder and smiling at you as he started walking again.

The walk there seemed like an eternity but that was only because you felt the weight of Minho’s hand in yours. In a particularly large crowd of people, Minho opted for a hand resting on your lower back so he didn’t lose you and could stay close, but when your hand was in his, you felt like you were in your own bubble. It was like nothing could affect you when you were next to him.

As you approached your classroom, you saw Chan standing at the doorway. It was weird, he never did that, opting instead to start on whatever experiment you had for the day. 

His eyes caught yours in the crowd of people and they lit up. He lifted his hand to wave but his eyes wandered down to your hand that was clasped in Minho’s and his large smile lowered slightly.

“Shit.” You said, looking over at Minho who had a frown on his face.

Before you could say anything else, Minho released your hand, your bag sliding off his shoulder and finding your arms. “I’m gonna go to class. Have a good day, Y/N.” There was a melancholy tone to his voice that made you want to say something but before you knew it you had lost him in the crowd of people.

“Hey.” You said softly to Chan as you stood in front of him.

He smiled at you but you could tell it wasn’t as wide as it normally was. “Hey!”

You followed him into the room, looking at the front table where the ingredients for the days lab would be but instead seeing the teacher sitting there. On the board behind him were the big words NO LAB. LECTURE DAY. 

“Oh great.” You groaned, setting your textbook down at your table and sitting down. 

Chan sat next to you, his hands clasped in his lap as he stared down at his book. “So who was that?” 

You knew he was referring to Minho, and you were thinking of exactly what you should say. If you said he was your boyfriend, you might not get the opportunity to date Chan but if you said he was your best friend, you could still have a chance. Through the last month, you knew just where your feelings were and you didn’t hesitate to answer him.

“That’s my boyfriend.”

His face registered shock and what you could only pinpoint as disappointed. You wished you could lie and say you wanted to be with Chan but for the second time in that month you had to admit it to yourself. You loved Minho.

“Oh, okay.” Chan nodded, looking up at the whiteboard. There was a moment of silence before he seemed to snap back to his normal cheery self. “Lecture days were specifically made by the devil himself.”

At that comment, you were back to clutching your stomach and doubling over in laughter. You quickly agreed, looking to the front of the room and seeing the teacher giving you a disapproving look. Not realizing class had started, you made a motion of zipping your mouth shut, turning to Chan and seeing him do the same.

As the lecture went on, you scribbled notes down and found yourself thinking about Minho. Yeah, Chan made you laugh and he was a dorky type of handsome that made you want to sit down and listen to his lame jokes all day long. 

But Minho.. Lee Minho. He was the guy who watched you embarrass yourself in front of the whole school accepting an award in high school. He was the guy who held you tight when you cried about getting rejected by your first crush. He was the guy that told you you could do anything and everything that came to your mind. He was the guy who promised he would always be by your side through anything.

“Let’s talk about the chemistry of love.” The teacher’s voice faded back into your head, and you were intrigued to know more. “Most people don’t know that love is a chemical equation. I will go into more detail in a later lesson but the basic combination is dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin.”

You found yourself furiously scribbling everything down, hanging off his every word and worrying you were missing something. To your right, you felt Chan’s eyes focused on your face and you wanted to turn to him but you were too busy fixating on what the teacher was saying.

“Dopamine is released in the process of picking a mate and following the release of dopamine comes oxytocin, also known as the cuddle hormone. Just the simple gesture of holding someone’s hand releases oxytocin and causes a sense of attraction and what chemists then call ‘love’. Eventually, once the honeymoon phase is over chemically, meaning your body develops a tolerance to these chemicals, endorphins are released.” The teacher had his back turned, quickly writing down the full chemical compositions of these chemicals, but when he finished his sentence he slowly faced the class.

“Endorphins cause a feeling of comfort. It’s the feeling of being safe in someone’s presence, like you know they would do anything for you and vice versa.” He sat his uncapped marker on the lab table and proceeded to walk around the class, looking at every student he passed. He was silent, watching everyone (including you) try and write everything he said down.

As soon as he made his way back to his table, he began to speak again. “That, my wonderful students, is love.” There was a moment of silence before he smiled. “I will see you next week.”

You didn’t say goodbye to Chan when you left the classroom, knowing that seeing his face anymore would only make your chest ache.

Walking back to your dorm felt empty without Minho by your side. You wondered if he was busy with homework or class, deciding not to worry too much and instead thinking back to the lecture you just sat through.

The way Minho treated you for the past month had butterflies erupting in your stomach from holding your hand, carrying your books, the constant touches and the way he would follow every other sentence with “sweetheart”. You found yourself melting and constantly telling him that whomever he dated must feel like royalty.

But you also knew that even before this deal, the way Minho hugged you didn’t make you feel nervous or sweaty palmed, it made you feel safe. Whenever Minho walked into a room you felt your shoulders untense and a smile slip its way onto your face. 

To you, Minho was home. He was the one you would go to with anything. He was the one that came to you with anything. You've helped him with relationship problems despite your lack of experience. He’s helped you with gym class and the history lessons you couldn’t seem to grasp.

You had been in love with Minho for a long time, yet you only seemed to notice it now.

Through your thinking you found your way to your room, unlocking it and slipping in. You went through the normal routine of setting your bag down in front of the couch, grabbing a water bottle and taking out your notebook. 

Looking around, however, you noticed the surprising lack of clothes. Minho was a mess sometimes, leaving his shirts or socks on the floor, but there was not one trace of his clothes in sight. Everything looked sparkly clean, in fact, and there wasn’t any trace of Minho ever having been there.

You knew he had a spare key to your dorm and figured he just cleaned up a bit but the feeling of everything being a bit too clean couldn't be erased from your mind. 

Deciding to call him to make sure everything was okay, you grabbed your phone. You saw Minho’s smiling face staring back as you tried to unlock your phone. Minho had taken a selfie and set it as your lock screen, and you made no protest, happy to be able to see his smiling face every time you wanted to unlock your phone.

He answered on the fifth ring. “Hey.” He said quietly and you were confused at his severe lack of energy.

“Are you okay, Min?” You asked him, hearing shuffling on the other side along with loud chatter of what you could only assume was students.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just on my way to class.” Minho’s voice sounded more than tired, it sounded sad.

“No, you’re not fine. I can tell.” When Minho didn’t answer you, you continued talking. “Whatever it is, you should talk about it. How about after your class? Come by my dorm, okay?”

There was a long sigh on the other line and you were worried he would decline your request but relief washed over you when he said, “Okay. I’ll see you then. Bye, Y/N.”

When you hung up, you decided to bury yourself in reading pages, trying not to think about the fact that he called you by your name, something he hadn’t done much if at all in the last month.

vii.

A knock at your door startled you off your textbook, realizing that you fell asleep with your face resting on it. You wondered who it was, knowing Minho had a key and could just let himself in.

So you were surprised to open up the door and see Minho standing there. He was wearing what he normally did after a shower, baggy sweatpants and a tank top, his hair still slightly damp and shining. For two weeks he had opted for taking a shower at your place, so why didn’t he do it now?

“Hey. Why didn’t you let yourself in?” You asked him, walking back towards the couch and closing your textbook, trying not to think of the small drool patch staining the periodic table.

Minho shrugged, his head dipping and eyes trailing on the ground. As he walked in he made sure to close and lock your door, knowing how paranoid you got. He didn’t look at you and you felt an empty feeling when he sat opposite to you on the couch, the farthest he could be.

“What’s wrong, Min? You’re worrying me.” You tried to move closer to him, putting a hand on top of his but he just pulled back, clasping his hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry.” Minho looked at you for the first time that night and you didn’t feel the warmth you normally did. There weren’t any bags under his eyes. Rather, it was like a dark cloud over his head. Before you could say anything, he interjected. “So how is Chan? Did he ask about me?”

Your stomach turned and you weren’t sure how to tell Minho you called him your boyfriend. Instead, you opted for a silent nod.

“What did you say?” Minho asked and you knew there was no way getting out of it.

“I, uh, I said you were my boyfriend.”

Silence. You felt like you wanted the couch to swallow you up.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done this.” Minho shakes his head, eyes falling back down to his clasped hands.

Your stomach sunk, not knowing how to respond. At this point, you just wanted to save your friendship because you knew you couldn’t take Minho no longer speaking to you. You tried to stutter out a response but all you got out was a mixture of “Um”s and “Uh”s.

“I’m sorry.” Minho apologized again and you stopped him before he said anything else.

“No. Don't apologize. I don’t feel that way about Chan anymore.” Although it felt like a dagger to your heart, you leaned back, farther away from Minho. “It’s not your fault Minho. If anything it’s mine.”

“Don’t say that Y/N.” Minho shook his head. “It’s my fault for letting my feelings cloud my judgement. I know it would hurt me more than help, but I wanted to express to you just how much I love you.”

Silence again, but this time you felt a spark in your stomach, warmth spread to the tips of your toes and fingers. I love you. Did he mean it like you did?

“I love you too.” You weren’t sure if you meant to say it or if your heart had a mind of its own. “I mean, I have for a long time but I think it took me a while to admit it.”

Minho looked up at you again, eyebrows disappearing behind his long fringe. His mouth hung open. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t think you felt the same but I wanted to be selfish and feel what everyone else that dated you felt. I wanted to feel loved that way.” Pausing, you asked a question that had you curious. “But if you weren’t sure I felt the same way why did you propose this idea anyways?”

“I’ve always loved you that way.” Minho moved closer to you and you felt the warmth slowly overtake your senses. “I wanted to be selfish too. I wanted to hold you like a boyfriend would and treat you like how you deserved. I just wanted to help you find someone, whether that be me or not was up to you.”

As soon as you got close enough, you reached out and cupped his cheeks with both your hands. His skin wasn’t so cold anymore, it made warmth radiate from your fingertips. “I would always choose you, Min. Always.”

Your knees knocked into Minho’s as he moved closer, and you were forced to remove your hands from his face. His nose almost touched yours and you swore you could see the entire galaxy in his eyes.

You smiled, a genuine eye-crinkling smile and Minho’s face mirrored your own. You weren't sure how his hands ended up on your waist, but you welcomed them there. His eyes searched yours, occasionally flicking to your lips. You moved your hands to his shoulders, thumbs running along his collarbones.

It seemed like an eternity before he asked you the one question you had been hoping to hear since the beginning of this idea of his.

“Can I kiss you?”

You did nothing but nod, closing your eyes and gasping when his lips finally met yours. They were slightly cold but you didn’t mind. Your hands raised to his neck, pulling him closer. Your knees hit together again but you couldn’t care less when Minho was kissing you like you were going to slip away.

Your lips moved together lightly, only leaving enough space for your breaths to mingle together in the air between you. Minho’s hand slowly traveled up your torso, stopping at your neck for him to run his thumbs along your jaw. Everything was so intimate and although you’ve only had few people to compare it to, Minho was the best kisser you had ever known.

Time seemed to halt when Minho’s hands finally settled on your cheeks and it felt like he was trying to pull you closer and if you had gotten any closer the line between you and Minho would blur. You wanted to be as close as you could to him, feel the heat from your head to your toes but right now all you felt was Minho’s soft lips moving softly against your own.

When Minho moved his lips again, tilting his head even more and letting you find a more comfortable rhythm, you smiled into the kiss. He tasted like peppermint and everything you ever could have imagined. You felt him smile against your lips as well and were forced to pull away.

“I could spend forever kissing you, sweetheart.” Minho smiled, the familiar feeling of his fingers tapping a rhythm on your waist making the warmth in you heighten.

You were breathless, but you mirrored his sentiment with a whispered. “Me too.”

There were a few beats of silence in which you threaded your fingers into his still dewy hair. Under his stare you felt nothing but comfort and love for your best friend sitting before you.

His eyes lit up even more. “I have an idea.”

You raised your eyebrows, ready to hear just exactly what he had in mind.

“Well, you’ve never been in a relationship. So why don’t I change that?” Minho’s cheeks were tinted red and he took his bottom lip in his teeth.

“You mean like real dating?” You were reminded of a month ago when he had asked you if you wanted to try out that little idea of his. But now you get the real thing.

“I guess? I didn’t think this far.” His smirk told you everything and you felt your face heat up. You chuckled, fingers carding through his hair before resting back onto his shoulders.

You didn’t need another moment to think of your answer.

“Sure. Let’s do it.”

viii.

Perhaps your Chemistry teacher was right, there was an equation for love going on in your brain as you laid in Minho's arms in your bed. He had already fallen asleep but you found yourself unable to stop smiling against his bare neck. His scent flooded your nose and you decided on another name for it. Home.

You felt safe. You felt like you could conquer the world as long as Minho was by your side. You knew no one would be able to make you feel the way Minho did as you felt his fingers slowly tapping against your waist. Soft snores came from above your head and you found your eyelids drooping. Minho’s heartbeat was the best lullaby as you drifted off to sleep.

Everyone had their own love equation and you knew yours.

seratonin + dopamine + oxytocin + endorphins = Lee Minho.

[side-shawty]

Space Heater

Fandom: DC

Type: one-shot

Prompt/Summary: “Damian wayne x teen reader (age 16/15) fluff? Thanks in advance”

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Reader 

Requested? YES by @fake-id-69

You falling asleep at the Wayne’s was a common occurrence. Your mom had given you much more freedom since you started dating Damian.

After, of course, he charmed her into oblivion without her even noticing. So when you woke up suddenly in Damian’s bed at 2AM you didn’t bat an eye at your location (pun intended), just the fact that it was colder than the Batcave in your boyfriends bedroom.

You realized you must have fallen asleep whilst the two of you were rewatching your favorite Disney movie.

You wrapped a black throw blanket around yourself and grabbed the slippers you always wore around the manor. Seeing as it was Friday night, Damian would be out on patrol and wouldn’t be back for at least another two hours.

When you finally made your way downstairs to the thermostat you saw that Alfred had beaten you there and was fiddling with the controls.

“I guess I wasn’t the only one who noticed the temperature drop,” you said, not even startling Alfred in the slightest.

“Apologies Miss Y/N,” Alfred said turning to face you as you stood beside him. “It has been finicky for a few days and it completely shut down about an hour ago.”

You glanced at the screen and saw the only thing on it was ‘ERR’ in big red letters.

“It’s alright Alfred, I’ll just grab a few extra blankets from the linen closet,” you said giving the older man a warm smile.

“I’ll be happy to get those for you,” Alfred said, and you were quick to shake your head.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on my way back and I going to make some tea first. Would you like to join me?” you told him.

“I’m afraid I can’t Miss Y/N, I’ve already been away from the computers for far too long,” and as if on cue the communicator in his hand began to beep and flash.

You gave a soft laugh, “What would they do without you?” You teased.

“Probably break far more than just the heating,” he said before bidding you goodnight and bowing out.

You only made a small cup of tea which you took into Damian’s room to let cool whilst you went o grab a few extra blankets.

When you got there you found a hastily written note that said:

‘Took the blankets and pillows to make an ultimate fort with the Titans. See you Monday!

All my warmth,

Tim’

You sighed and realized that he had only left a couple of extra pillows and 3 blankets. Since Damian, Bruce, and Jason were all home you realized you could only take one. Remembering that Jason ran cold and would need it and Alfred had his own quilts that the boys made him for Father’s Day.

At least it’s one of the warm ones, you thought.

You sat in Damian’s bed wrapped in the comforter and the blanket while sipping your tea. You had swapped your t-shirt for one of Damian’s hoodies and your shorts for a pair of spare leggings that you had in your drawer.

After you were significantly warmer you placed your empty cup on the bedside table and tucked yourself in, quick to fall asleep.

——

When you awoke for the second time that night you were burning up and had to take a second just to make sure you weren’t actually on fire.

You shot up, eyes closed, and peeled off Damian’s hoodie and threw the extra blankets aside before registering the arm around your waist. You opened your eyes to a dark room, blackout curtains drawn and Alfred asleep on Titus’ back at the foot of the bed.

The last thing you saw was Damian sleeping not-so-soundly after your abrupt movement. He groaned and cracked an eye open. You smiled at him.

“Beloved, do you have a reason to be awake right now?” He asked, ignoring the sight of you in a sports bra.

“Yes, I do actually,” you said and though your voice still held sleep the sarcasm was shining through.

He raised an eyebrow for you to continue.

“It’s because my boyfriend is a damn space heater and I felt like my skin was going to melt off,” you said and at this, he flipped onto his back and opened his other eye.

You tried not to give him the satisfaction of staring at his perfect shirtless form.

“Well you looked cold when I got back and I figured I should help you out,” he said giving you a sleepy grin.

Your heart leaped, involuntarily, as you realized that no one else had seen Damian like this. No one ever got to see the softer side of him like this. You were the only one he ever trusted with every part of himself.

You faked a gasp and moved to straddle his hips, “Damian Wayne, that’s awfully sweet. I can’t wait to tell your brothers what a sap you’ve become,” you teased.

Damian placed his hands on your hips and gave them a light squeeze, “Well now that just won’t do. I’ll never hear the end of it,” he said and faster than you could comprehend he flipped the two of you over so he hovered above you, your head caged in by one of his forearms.

You vaguely registered Titus and Alfred relocating to Titus’ bed beside the window.

“Damian,” you almost screeched in shock. He was half asleep not 2 minutes ago. Stupid Batman genes.

“Beloved,” he mimicked and used your shock to his advantage. Placing his lips on yours in a short, passionate kiss.

“I missed you,” you said, as he rested his forehead atop your own.

“I missed you too. I miss you whenever I go out on patrol. Hell, I miss you when you go home,” he said and you smiled.

“Maybe I should just move in here,” you said and his eyes flashed with an affirmation for a fraction of a second.

“Maybe you should,” he said and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down on top of you and in for another kiss.

“One day,” you said as you broke apart.

“One day,” he repeated.

“But for now I get you when the heat is broken as my own personal space heater,” you giggled and he rolled his eyes before flipping you once again so that your head was on his chest.

You stretched up for one final kiss before melting into Damian and quickly finding sleep in the comfort of his embrace, even if you were a bit warmer than normal.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Deleted Scene; Off-Chance Meeting

What if Jimin met....Jimin?

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

genre: fluff, romance, angst, comedy, supernatural

word count: 4.2k

Related works: See masterlist under guardian demon!Jimin

A/n: So this was like....a half developed scene that I was going to put in for Interlude: Second Best buuuuut I didn’t want to make the chapter too long because the main focus was guardian demon!Jimin’s POV from the events in the previous chapter. However! It’s been mentioned as a ‘what-if’ so I completed it as a fun deleted scene. Hope you like it and hope yall are doing okay! take care, be safe and I’ll hopefully see you soon again for another update, this time with story progression LOL

BTW! Thanks for the 1,026 follows!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖💖💖💖

Tag List: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatinagirl @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct

Jimin’s game plan to blend in is quite simple because it really only consists of one step; grab a staff member so that he can duplicate the lanyard ID they have. Even though he promised to not use his powers to you for the most part, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t found ways to work around it. He easily locks onto a target — a male staff exiting the artist room to step out into the hallway Jimin’s in, presumably on a short break as he strides down to stop by a vending machine. The male staff has his head down, eyes glued to his phone for a while until finally, he takes a quick glance up to view the selection of snacks before ducking his head again, clearly in no rush at all.

Jimin’s lips quirk and he makes quick work at slipping closer, steps light and so undetectable that he may as well be a ghost rather than a demon. At the last minute, Jimin cloaks himself, sneaking up on the unsuspecting male just as he reaches into his back pocket to grab some change. The demon’s touch feels nothing more than a draft, fingers barely caressing the back of the colourful lanyard hanging around his neck but it’s all he needs. The male staff carries on, punching in the numbers and watches as the bag of chips falls into the slot below. Taking it, he walks away, none the wiser.

Jimin pays no mind to him anymore, focused on slipping the thin silver chain necklace out from under his shirt and with a soft blow of his breath, the silver chain morphs into the lanyard, a perfect copy. Normally, he would do without a need for something tangible to cast the illusion but this way, he wouldn’t have to use too much magic to keep it up — a weight to the illusion is more believable than simply thin air.

Satisfied, he lets the cloaking spell disperse, rolling his neck a little at the relief that he can finally walk around more freely without the worry of hiding or arousing suspicions.

“Now… where to go?” He mumbles quietly to himself, eyes darting before deciding that he should scope out the way to the area under the stage. Just as he rounds the corner though—

“Woah!”

Jimin’s fast reflexes has him jerking back in time before he collides into the other body. With a step back, his eyes immediately catch sight of the sparkly jacket and they widen almost simultaneously in realization.

Face to face with him was none other than his own mirror, Park Jimin of BTS, only he has honey blond hair and a glowing complexion.

“Ah, I’m really sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” His eyes are a little wide, stormy grey contacts shining as he apologizes.

For a moment, he’s frozen, stuck rigid in place with shock and split second panic before realizing that he has the safety of his mouth mask and drawn up hood to protect his identity of being the idol’s face stealer. Also the fact that the idol has yet to pass out from shock at seeing his own clone or give any sort of huge reaction was a good indicator.

“A-Ah….” The demon’s voice catches in his throat, and he awkwardly coughs, embarrassed as he ducks his head and mutters gruffly in Korean, “No, it’s my mistake.”

The singer smiles amicably, teeth showing and gaze so warm and so friendly that the demon almost has trouble meeting it.

“Hey now, don’t worry! It’s nothing serious.” There’s a pause, a slight tilt of his honey blond head before those artificial stormy grey irises blink, brows furrowing. The demon starts to actually sweat, eyes refusing to meet as he unconsciously begins to lean back to put space in between. But there’s no escaping the curious gaze of the twenty-four year old singer. “Ah, I— I don’t mean to sound rude or offensive but…. I don’t believe I’ve seen you before?”

Oh shit, shit, shit, shit…

He swears his plan would’ve been completely foolproof if he hadn’t ran into the very person he’s going around parading as. The chances of the demon running into said idol was 1 in 200 and yet it’s as if fate had cursed him with the unwanted luck a fan could only dream of having. But there’s no time to curse heaven and fuck all because his mind begins to race with possibilities of escaping this situation. Maybe he could get away with enthralling the idol for a quick second, trick him into thinking this is all some sort of hallucination from being overworked and then when he’s all good and spaced out, the demon can make his escape. His fingers just about twitches when the singer’s eyes widen and his mouth opens, face alight with an epiphany.

“Are you perhaps new?”

….What?

A beat unknowingly passes between them, with the demon blinking owlishly at the young man, completely gripped in disbelief and the singer staring back expectantly.


“Am I mistaken…?”

The hesitancy creeping into that question snaps the demon from his stupor and he finally blurts out, “No, I’m new.”

Relief washes over the idol’s handsome face (he’s never gonna get over how fucking trippy this is to watch), shoulders visibly losing some tension and the singer even places a hand over his chest.

“Ah, that would’ve been really bad — I usually am able to recognize everyone on the team.” His eyes creases again from the smile forming on his face. “Why haven’t we met yet, um….?”

“Ju—“ The demon stumbles on his words, thinking at the last second that your impromptu Korean name you had given him when he met Jaehee sounded too similar to the idol’s so his mind jumps to the next one he remembers off the top of his head. “— yeon….Kang Juyeon. This is my first day.”

Jimin the idol makes a noise of understanding, presumably taking his sloppy introduction as nerves in good strides. He inclines his head graciously in an almost small bow that catches the demon off-guard. “It’s nice to officially meet you Juyeon-ssi. I look forward to working with you.”

He bows robotically in return.

“Are you on break right now?” The young singer asks innocently.

“…Yes…” The answer comes out unsure, like he’s testing the waters and seeing where this could possibly lead — hopefully with the idol leaving him be and carrying on back to the artist room, surely much too busy to entertain a seemingly nervous new recruit. To his surprise though, the demon is proven wrong.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I must be taking up your time. Have you gotten anything to drink or eat yet?”

“Well, no but—“

The idol’s mouth gapes open almost immediately, “Would you like to head over to the catering room now? We can grab something.”

The demon is baffled, to say the least; so taken aback by Jimin’s friendly disposition to someone who he only just met that even though he really shouldn’t be overstaying his welcome like this, a part of him would actually feel guilty for turning down the offer. He’s so glad he’s wearing a mask right now because then the idol wouldn’t have to see the borderline crazed smile slowly stretching over the demon’s lips, the disbelief too strong.

But looking at the original owner of the face he wore, seeing it completely reflect a drastically different personality than his own invokes something in him; a morbid curiosity taking hold and stoking the fire to a long buried question —

Who is Park Jimin?

Beyond the worldwide renown Korean idol and a pretty face with killer vocals and dancing, the demon knows very little about who this person is, this person whom you adore so much. What is it that drew you to him specifically amongst the other members. He highly doubts its looks alone (you’re definitely not the shallow type), or maybe even the amount of talent because from what he gathered, all the members were pretty much on par with each other in all departments.

So what made Jimin special?

He really shouldn’t follow this rabbit down the hole, but he’s a demon by nature and impulsivity is practically his middle name. Without another second thought, he agrees with a nod of his head, “Okay.”

Curiosity really should be a sin.

He gets a blinding smile in response, eyes disappearing and pearly teeth on display (he spies the slight crooked front tooth that somehow only seems to add to the singer’s charm rather than a flaw). They walk off towards the room that acts as a communal dining area for the staff and artists themselves, the large selection of hot foods lined up like a buffet self-serve while there are tables available for anyone who wants to sit down for their meal. There’s only a few staff members gathered there, each preoccupied with their phones or simply grabbing a quick bite to eat before rushing back to where they’re needed.

The singer walks in and of the few people that are hanging around, he inclines his head in greeting to them. The demon has no choice but to follow in order to not draw suspicions (even though he gets a few raised eyebrows from wearing a full hood and mask but is ultimately brushed off).

“There’s a lot of choices here so please help yourself. Don’t be shy.” Jimin gestures, grabbing a plate and going for one of the rolls of kimbap. Though the demon has no intention of eating anything — for obvious reasons, he still makes the effort to thoughtlessly pick out random food items to place on his plate for the sake of keeping up the facade. He gets as far as two scoops of sweet and sour pork before the young idol turns to him and his eyes dart to his modest portion.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?”

“Uh…Yes?”

That immediately draws out a noise of disapproval, handsome face pinching along to match the tone. “Ah, Juyeon-ssi; you need to eat to keep up your strength. You can’t hold back on something as important as that.” Before any words of protest can be formed, a kimbap roll is placed on the empty space of the demon’s plate.

And then another.

And then a spring roll.

And then a hefty scoop of black bean noodles and some rice.

It goes on until his plate is adequately full, the idol satisfied as they migrate over to an empty table. The demon takes a seat and he feels his lips quirk as he observes the fact that Jimin’s own plate only consisted of two kimbap rolls and a few pieces of fruit he’s currently nibbling on. The stark contrast and adamancy is already so telling of his character, sans personal dietary considerations.

“Has the job been hard so far?” The singer asks casually.

“Not particularly….”

“Ah, that’s good to hear. Have people been nice to you?”

“Uh…Yeah, I guess.”

He gets a nod of approval, and the demon vaguely likens the feeling of a mother asking their child if their first day of school went well (or if he’s being generous, an older brother). It’s strange experiencing something so familial yet coming from the idol, it all seems so natural as if they’ve known each other for years and not just in the span of less than an hour.

It’s quite the culture shock — something he admittedly doesn’t have a good grasp on and it’s that curiosity to know that has him daringly (or perhaps, no doubt to his colleagues, foolishly) diving deeper. The wooden chopsticks in his hand push around the food on his plate meaninglessly, a gesture meant to disguise the hidden agenda he has; dissecting the idol and seeing what makes him tick.

His lips instinctively quirk under his mask but he makes sure that it doesn’t translate in his gaze as his eyes focus on the idol.

“I’m sure your job is much more tiring.” He says, taking on a tentative tone, implicating for an open ended discussion.

The singer takes a pause, eyes wandering in thought before he sucks in a breath after some serious considerations, “I don’t really think my job is any harder than some of the other staff here…” He stops, as if collecting his thoughts again and then continues, “I think it’s thanks to everyone’s efforts that the members and I are able to do these show successfully and safely. If I were to really break things down…. I really only do a small part.”

“But there’s no point to a show if there’s no performers.”

There’s a hum in reply to his statement but after the idol swallows the strawberry he’s popped into his mouth, he says, “I can see how you would say that, but I think more importantly, there’s no point to a show without the fans.”

The demon doesn’t miss the gentle affection that slips through — that quiet, soft whisper that carries the words near the end, giving way to something much deeper. It’s something he’s seen before, reflected in himself, and it’s whenever his thoughts wander to you.

Fondness.

His chest gives a twinge at the memory, jaw clenching a little as if to physically repress the feelings that begin to stir.

“You don’t even know the fans….” It comes out more as a low murmur to himself, but the contempt underlying his tone seeps through all the same. It’s just…. How could the idol possibly share the same sentiment he has with you, someone who he’s actually spent time with and come to know all the little quirks to — what makes you happy, sad, laugh, the way you laugh, the little noises you make when you eat something you love, see you at your highest and lowest points, with a group of people (not even a single person) who he’s had less than ten seconds worth of interactions?

It’s far too superficial, too scripted and said too many times with no real meaning. He wants to scoff at how impractical it is.

“Maybe so, but it goes beyond that.” The familiar sound of the idol’s lilt halts the demon’s thoughts quite suddenly, still in that soft spoken way but there’s something else with it. A sureness — steady and unwavering, and just the barest hints of….passive-aggressiveness?

That gets a quirk in the eyebrow; so this kitten does have claws after all.

“There are times where I wonder why there are so many people who like us and support us the way they do.” The singer continues seriously, already getting lost in deep thought. “Probably because we work hard, but who doesn’t work hard? Others make good music and do their best too so why us? We try our best to communicate to our fans but everyone does too…..These sorts of things are something I often think about.”

A pause, as if to find the right words, “But whenever I read the fan’s letters or things they post on SNS to us, saying how much we’ve helped them with our songs when they’re going through a hard time, it makes me realize that we’re not so different. We all have flaws and maybe it’s because we’re not perfect that they like us. Starting off with nothing and then little by little, seeing more people coming to support us…. They’re the ones who put us on the stage, so I— We cherish them a lot. They give us energy and comfort us, and we do the same back, like a deep connection, an understanding.”

The young singer stops in pushing around the remaining strawberry on his plate, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips, like he’s recalling a particularly pleasant memory. “So we want to give back by making good music and showing them our best. Ah, reminds of something really cool Namjoon-hyung said.” He takes the time to tilt his head, “He said how even if it’s just one person he could help, he’ll continue to keep trying. That really touched me, so even if we might not know them personally, they’re the ones who motivate us and makes all of this worth it.”

Once he finishes, the demon is left a little more than bewildered, overwhelmed in fact that all he could do was blink. Granted, it was a lot to take in, never having expected such an arduous confession but what’s even more baffling to him is the conviction the singer had saying all of it, so earnest in his words. Now, he’s no lie detector per se, but as a demon, he does have a more innate ability to pick up on cues and inflections that would give a person away, revealing their true nature. He’s used to it after all.

And then along comes Park Jimin.

This twenty-four some odd year old idol, thrusted into the cut-throat world that is the entertainment industry, young and bright-eyed, armed with nothing but potential, a good work ethic and a dream, yet comes out on the other side, a little bruised and scathed but otherwise, un-jaded; that young and bright-eyed innocence not diminished, instead it matured into something more resilient.

He can probably count on his finger how many people he can actually say that about. Hell, the only closest people that would qualify would be saints, and even that is debatable.

It’s....irritating because he’s faced with the fact that as much as he had wanted to dislike this person, he’s proven that he can’t.

A rush of air leaves his nose and he has to contain a rueful smile. “You’re a very admirable person Park Jimin-ssi. Not that many people keep to their beliefs so strongly like that.”

He gets a bashful giggle in return, light and melodic.

“Aish, what are you saying? I’m not all that impressive….I think I still have a lot to learn.” The singer almost whines from behind the back of his hand covering the open mouth smile he has. Once he calms, it softens. “All I really want is for the fans to remember BTS for our sincerity. I just hope that I’ve been able to help convey that so far.”

The demon lets out a breathy chuckle, finally getting up from his seat. He gazes down at this young man who’s face reflects his own yet wears it in such an entirely different way — glowing with a passion and radiance that is warm, sincere, kind, compassionate and loving.

Perhaps the way it’s meant to be worn.

And it’s with a bittersweet reluctance that the demon places a hand on the singer’s shoulder, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze. “Keep doing what you’re doing and never lose sight of yourself. As long as you remember what you’re doing this for, the sincerity of your members and you will be conveyed.”

Stormy grey eyes widen a fraction, a little confused as they blink up at him, clearly not expecting such encouragements (honestly, he didn’t expect this either yet here he is).

“Wh— Um, I—…” The idol reaches a hand up to comb through his meticulously styled hair, tousling a few loose strands as slowly, the apples of his cheeks begin to dust in a pink hue and dark eyes can’t help but watch on in amusement. As if sensing the focus shifting to his quickly reddening face however, the young man lets out a sputter and lightly smacks the demon’s forearm, refusing to meet his gaze. “Ahh Juyeon-ssi! What’s with you saying that all of a sudden to me? You sound as if you’re way older than me when we’re probably friends in age!”

Friends…

“What makes you think that?”

“W-Well… I don’t know how to explain it but…. I feel a sense of familiarity with you when we met. Like, a vibe….” The sentence pewters out into a shy mumble, the tips of his ears matching his cheeks now before comically, grey orbs whip up, suddenly concerned. “Unless you’re not….?”

The snort that leaves the demon’s mouth is quickly covered by clearing his throat but he’s sure the restrained mirth still reaches his eyes as he assures, “No, we’re friends.”

He’s met with a brilliant grin, full of teeth and a twinkle in his gaze. “Oh thank goodness. I would’ve died on the spot out of embarrassment.”

He refrains from rolling his eyes if only to dismiss the overly-dramatic relief that overcame the poor young man. But regardless, it’s his cue to go — he's starting to feel a little too perturbed being near someone so good-natured. With a final pat to his shoulder, the demon begins to depart.

“It was nice talking to you Park Jimin-ssi but you’ll have to excuse me, I have to get going now.”

“O-Oh? Is it really that time? If that’s the case— Ya! Kang Juyeon-ssi! Did you even touch your food? You—!”

“Jimin-hyung!”

“Oh?” Jimin’s attention whips to the new voice that called him from the still full plate of food left on the table. His eyes immediately meet doe-eyed ones, usually dark as coal but are currently a more lighter coffee colour, bringing out more of the brown that’s hidden in its depths thanks to the contacts. The youngest member approaches him with long strides, the sequins on his own stage outfit glitter with each step.

“This is where you were? Should’ve told me you were hungry, we could’ve gone to snack together.”

“Ah, no I was just talking with Juyeon-ssi.”

“Juyeon? Who’s that?”

“Kang Juyeon; that person who was just leaving, you must’ve seen him on your way in.”

But that only gets a head tilt from Jungkook, who swivels his head back towards the entrance, “He doesn’t sound familiar and I didn’t see anyone leaving.”

“….Huh?” Equally confused, Jimin swerves around the tall form of Jungkook to get a look however, to his surprise, he doesn’t see anyone. Glancing around lets him know that at most, there was only three other people in the room, excluding him and Jungkook but they were all immersed on the couch in the far corner, away from the entryway. Does Juyeon walk that fast?  “Aye, quit messing with me. He had on a face mask, around my height? With his hoodie pulled up; probably the only one here who does too.”

Jungkook shakes his head, genuinely clueless on who Jimin could possibly be referring to. “No, I swear I haven’t seen anyone around like that.”

The furrow in Jimin’s brows deepen, mouth falling open in disbelief. The scrunched up, troubled expression the older member makes was too good to pass up on teasing so Jungkook can’t help but to lean close, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“What? Were you speaking to a ghost this entire time hyung?”

“Aish! Don’t say that! That actually gave me chills!” Jimin scowls, smacking the youngest repeatedly on the arm and causing Jungkook to cackle and skip away from the assault.

“Anyways, Namjoon-hyung wants to go over the script again so I went to go find you.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go then.”

Brushing down his jacket, Jimin gets up, taking both plates with him, discarding his own empty one while Jungkook gleefully takes the one Juyeon hadn’t touched. The two head out and begin to make their way back to the artist dressing room, with Jungkook talking around mouthfuls of food about what Jimin had apparently missed while he was away but all Jimin could think about was his meeting with Juyeon.

There’s no way he could’ve imagined it all in his head — he’s too young to be going senile. Plus, it felt too real for it to be some overworked hallucination (besides, he doesn’t feel that jet lagged). So there’s a perfectly, logical explanation for it. Yeah, he just…walks really fast.

“Jimin-hyung is here!” Jungkook calls out to the rest of the members. He gets a myriad of boisterous responses and greetings. The sound makes him inadvertently grin.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming. I didn’t think you would miss me that badly; I was gone for ten minutes.”

Thoughts of his mysterious friend are pushed away for some other time but the wise words he’s been given remain at the forefront of Jimin’s mind. Perhaps the next time he runs into Juyeon, he’ll treat him to a drink or two during the celebratory dinners — get to know him better.

He’s not sure what it is about Juyeon that makes him want to befriend him so intently, like there’s something about him….

Something that’s a little melancholy….and maybe, he dare say, a little lonely.

But to the singer’s dismay, he never really did see him again.

[sex-lies-and-boiled-milk]

On Carriages and Gigs of Gentleman Jack and Anne Lister's Diaries

I started reading about gigs because I wanted to find out which gig Anne used when she travelled to the Lake District in 1824. This nonchalant question I've asked myself led me into a week long reading and transcribing pages from the diary that talk about Anne in York in autumn of 1821 buying that gig. (My wife did this generously for me, thank you). After I did find this out, I've asked myself what do we know so far about the other means of transport in Anne's time. Travelling was such an important part of Anne's life, and not just travelling abroad or long-distance travelling, but her often excursions to York by Highflyer or going to Langton by coach or in someone's carriage or taking a ride in the gig to Halifax or when she is in Langton with Tib. In one of the ALBW interviews we heard about how they filmed the scene with the Highflyer arriving to Halifax, or how Lister chaise was filmed in the air when being taken off the ship when reaching Copenhagen. But the topic of carriages and gigs certainly deserves more attention. The number of different models and types of carriages and gigs that are shown in the show is just amazing. Thank you Dorjana Širola for all the transcriptions. Thank you wikipedia and many websites for data and information. Thank you BBC for snapshots from the show.

Stagecoach

A stagecoach was a heavy and spacious horse-drawn carriage on 4 wheels pulled by 4 horses or mules. It could carry up to 20 passengers, some inside, some on the top of the carriage. Coachman was in charge of driving the coach or a carriage, having the control of the horses from an independent seat. He would usually be accompanied by a footman whose concern would be the passengers and transported goods. This was a public service coach meaning passengers would pay for the transport as well as for transport of their packages or letters. There was a net of posting stations scattered around the country where tired horses would be exchanged for fresh ones.

This one at the beginning of episode 1 must be the Highflyer, a type of stagecoach, that connected Halifax with other towns.

Coaching inn

When people travelled in their own carriages or gigs, they would be accomodated in coaching inns. Coaching inns provided stables and food for horses but also accomodation for travellers for the night. Those that survived to today simply became regular inns or pubs, of course without stables provided (but it's fun tracking down the old buildings and finding remains of prior structures). Read here just about how much traffic jams involving this type of transport were regular back in the day: http://www.wickedwilliam.com/principal-departure-coaching-inns-1819/ 

Cary’s New Itinerary

Travellers who travelled on their own were equipped with useful reference books on the road telling them where exactly they could find coaching inns and posting stations. The reference work of the time was Cary's New Itinerary, first published in 1798, on all the roads in England and distances between towns, and contained the “list of all Inns that supply post Horses and Carriages”. Anne used this while touring the Lake District in 1824. 

photo credits: lakesguides.co.uk

The Lister chaise

Listers owned the Lister chaise, built in 1725, one of the oldest preserved carriages in the world. You can see it in the stables of Shibden Hall, if you already haven't. We see it in episode 1.

Interestingly enough this carriage doesn't fit the description of a chaise at all which is a 2 wheel light carriage for 1 person, with a folding hood or a calash top. Instead it better fits to a description of a post chaise: it had a closed body on four wheels, sat two to four persons, and was drawn by two or four horses. A postilion would ride on one of the horses that pull the carriage. It seems to me that post-chaise became the term to mean public travelling carriages that would change horses at post-stations, and that's why Lister chaise is a chaise, and not a post-chaise.

The real Lister chaise

The Lister chaise looks a bit different than this one shown in the show. "The green and gold appears to be the original colours, although at some point it was painted grey, before being restored and returned to its original colours in the 1950s" says Calderdale Council's brochure on Shibden Hall. The one in the show is simply rejuvenated, together with the colours but the model is the same. Here is the photo of the real Lister chaise. Credits Shibden Hall ...

Anne bought a gig!

In the autumn of 1821 Anne went to York to buy a gig from the famous York coachmakers Breary's. She bought a second-hand one, probably a model of Stanhope gig for £65.2.0 which in today's money is £3.738.72. https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/currency-converter/#currency-result

Tuesday 23 October 1821

…Mr. Duffin and I… went to Breary’s to look at the 2nd hand gig with a top to it – afterwards took Dr. Belcombe and Anne to see it, and I think I have determined to take it…

Friday 26 October 1821

…Ord[ere]d the gig at Breary’s – Handsome brass harness (evidently only used 3 or 4 times) and lamps to the gig, all together to £48…

Tuesday 30 October 1821

…Letter also from Isabella Norcliffe (Langton) – John Coates (the head-groom) strongly advises me not to have the yellow gig, but the green one, which will cost £15 more – at 2, went to Breary’s to /sic/ look at it again, and intend to follow John’s advice…

Wednesday 31 October 1821

…Eli Belcombe… went with me to Breary’s where I ordered the green gig, with lamps and harness and all complete six[t]y guineas…

Wednesday 19 December 1821

Had the new gig from Breary’s, and George and I drove from the Dr. Belcombe’s door at 11 ½ - the mare a little awkvard at 1st, and I had not driven an hundred yards before I ran against the wheel of a cart – however we came along very well afterwards – I drove the whole way, and we got here (Lowgrange) in 3 ¼ hours, 19 miles…

Monday 24 December 1821

…Mariana and I went out together at 2 – went to Breary’s – I ordered lamps to my gig, and paid him for the gig and all its appurtenances £65.2.0…

Transcription credits: Dorjana Širola

A gig is a light two-wheel cart for 2 people drawn by one horse. We know her gig was green, she bought lamps to be added on and it had a top that could be pulled out in case of rain. In this gig she travelled to the Lake District in 1824 with her aunt. Caradoc, her horse, pulled the gig and George Playforth rode on a hack-horse. As a breed Hack-horse was a type of horse that could have been used for riding but also pulling carriages or gigs. Since there is no gig in the stables of Shibden Hall, I consider Anne's gig to be lost.

photo credits: CMA Archives

http://users.vermontel.net/~greenall/Rabers/Stanhope_Gig_R100.html

Anne’s gig was Stanhope gig !!

This is a photo of Stanhope gig, the exact model I think Anne bought. Notice the top that can be pulled in or out in the case of rain, also the visible space for luggage under the seat.

Just like carriages, gigs were considered to be status statements and subject to changing fashions. As well as there was a high number of different types of carriages available, the same applied to gigs.

The Stanhope was a lightweight gig, similar to a phaeton. It had a high seat with a closed back and plenty of storage room for luggage underneath it. The Stanhope gig was a very popular design, first built in 1815 by Tilbury, a London coachbuilder, for the Hon Fitzroy Stanhope.

Photo credits and more photos here : https://www.thecarriagefoundation.org.uk/item/stanhope-gig

The Dennett gig

While she was buying the gig Anne was considering these other types of gigs, which were popular at the time.

The Dennett was also a two-wheeled gig driven by a single horse. It was enclosed at the rear and had room for luggage. Differences between the types of gigs consisted mostly in the number and arrangement of springs applied, and the additional space and equipment provided.

photo credits and more photos here : https://www.carriagelink.com/carriages?id=781528

The Tillbury gig

The Tillbury was a lightweight, two-wheeled, spindled-back seat gig, with no boot and no top. It was designed for short-distance rides around the town.

In Anne's own experience it's really difficult to understand all these types of gigs:  “ ... surely the man at Leeds did not understand the difference between this [Tillbury] and a Dennet – there is a difference in the springs, the former having a cross spring, or more springs in some way or other the (lancer shafts) are more bent at the ends, and the box put under the seat is smaller than in a Dennet … ” (Transcription by Dorjana Širola)

Photo credits : Joseolgon

A Phaeton

A Phaeton is a sporty open carriage, with a minimal body and typically with four extravagantly large wheels. It’s very lightly sprung and has no sidepieces in front of the seats. With open seating, it was considered fast and dangerous. Estate owners would gallop in them showing off. Phaetons can have a folded top as you can see here. If you want to know more: https://www.regencyhistory.net/2019/07/curricles-gigs-and-phaetons-in-regency.html

photo credits: By Museo del Bicentenario - Museo Casa Rosada

Rawson’s gig is a phaeton!

The gig from episode 1 that caused little Henry Hardcastle to lose his leg is actually a phaeton. Open, very fast and dangerous, with minimal space for anything else but the driver.

Mr Priestley’s carriage

Another carriage from the show is Priestley's carriage in which Ann Walker drives away from Shibden Hall after visiting with the Priestleys at the end of episode 1. It's also shown when Mr Ainsworth is leaving from the Priestleys in episode 5.

Mrs Lawton’s carriage

There are many other carriages and gigs in the show. Like this one, that brings Mariana Lawton to Shibden Hall in episode 1. Carriage or a coach is a closed 4-wheeled vehicle pulled by 2-4 horses. Horses are controlled by a coachman who sits in a seat up front raised up high for a good view. For private carriages groom would usually do the duties of the coachman. A coach might have a built-in compartment called a boot, used originally as a seat for the coachman and later for storage. A luggage case for the top of a coach was called an imperial; the top, roof or second-story compartment of a coach was also known as an imperial.

Miss Walker’s carriage

This is Miss Walker's carriage which we see a couple of times through the show. This is the  carriage in which they went to York and back in episode 4 and the carriage which goes all the way to Scotland to take Ann back with James and the Priestleys.

Mrs Stansfield Rawson’s carriage

The carriage in which Mrs Stansfield Rawson and Miss Delia Rawson visit Ann Walker at the beginning of episode 3.

Mr Rawson’s Landau

The type of carriage Christopher Rawson uses to get to work is called Landau. Landau is a type of a four-wheeled carriage with the folding top divided into two sections, front and rear, latched at the center. Both of the sides can be pulled down exposing the passengers to the fine weather. It was designed for transport through towns, enabling passengers clothes to be seen from outside. It was to become a matter of status and luxury to own one of these. Today in some cities Lord Mayors still use them in ceremonial occasions.

Landau with the top down!

Another photo of Landau with dropped top on both sides.

Landaulette

And then we had recently in Brian Moseley's transcriptions: 

“Friday 14 April 1820 Down stairs at 10-1/4 - Mariana and I, went up to Whitewindows to see Mr George Priestley’s carriage horse, (only one as yet bought) and his new dark blue landaulette built by Windus, a great city builder in town [pret?] between 4 and £500, and which, with the Priestley and Lea arms, quartered, and those of Kirkman in an escutcheon of pret[ence?] done au large on each pannel, is a city-like looking concern.”

A landaulet or landaulette carriage is a cut-down (coupé) version of a landau horse-drawn carriage. The landaulette retains the rear half of the landau's two-part folding top.

Photo credits: Piotrus

Fly

Again somewhere I read about another type of transport Anne used (sorry, can't remember where I read it!). Fly was a light horse-drawn public vehicle or a delivery wagon intended to move quickly and reach its destination in a hurry. Really interesting article here: https://brightonmuseums.org.uk/discover/2013/01/17/the-brighton-man-fly/

Lady Stuart’s carriage

The carriage which Anne uses when travelling between Richmond and London when going for Vere's wedding in episode 2.

Mr Sutherland’s carriage

Another travelling carriage, the one that belonged to the Sutherlands in ep 7.

Anne’s yellow carriage

Anne had a carriage as well, which she ocassionally used for her travels. In the show we can see it in episodes 7 when she collects it from the Norcliffe's and stops at York to have a chat with dr Belcombe. Also when she is in London staying with Mariana. She goes to Copenhagen with Miss Ferrall in her carriage as well. Also they filmed Anne(s) in it going to the wedding.

Carriage on booaaaaard!!

Or when she's arriving to Copenhagen, and the carriage is just being taken off the vessel. :) This is an excellent website on Regency types of carriages with good photos if you want to see more: https://regency-explorer.net/a-carriage-enthusiasts-paradise/

Caleche

At the beginning of episode 8, aunt Anne reads Anne's letter sent from Germany: “At Kassel Miss Ferrall and I took a calache and went to visit the Palace d’Hercule … “ The calash was a light carriage with small wheels, a body in the form of a boat and a folding top. Inside, it had seats for four passengers, outside was a separate driver’s seat. The calesh was mainly used for pleasure driving in a park. The caleche was the forerunner of the barouche, a carriage fashionable in the 19th century.

Britzka

Just the other day I read this line in Anne Lister's diary : Sunday 5 October 1834 “saw my father and Marian off in their new Britska-phaeton” (Thank you gentlemanjackthelass on Insta) and, of course, had to google this type of carriage. Also wondering, are we going to see it in Season 2?

The Britzka is a type of opened horse-drawn carriage on 4 wheels pulled by 2 horses. And that’s about it with its similarities with the phaeton. Britzka was a long, spacious carriage with a folding top over the rear seat and a rear-facing front seat. It could be adapted with all manner of conveniences (beds, dressing tables and so on) for the traveller. 

Read here about this and many other types of carriages and gigs: https://www.geriwalton.com/vehicle-titles-origins-descriptions-1700s-1800s-a-c/