#its just the HAIR the FLUFF everywhere i would sneeze too much

[gently-folded-paper-cranes]

tbh as much as i’d want to get along with everyone in stray kids, i very much think lee know would HATE me because im not a fan of cats. sorry my guy its not you its me

[riddler-green]

Could I request a riddler/ reader w/ a reader who likes to draw him pls 🙏🙏 like as a gift or even just keeps and he finds them in their studio and realises his face is littered along their portfolio like a thoughtfully crafted tapestry and testament of their love or something corny like that I love the idea of a reader who’s just awe strikingly in love and him the same it’s so sweet WAAA but u can do whatever w/ the idea of artist/riddler ur so cool Ty <333

Mi musa.

Summary:  you are an artist with your own habits but you never forget who your true muse is.

A/N: hey hiii! it's me again! thanks so much for the request! I really appreciate it! and I hope you enjoy it, I love that Riddler/ artist concept too!1 ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ੈ♡‧₊˚

Warning: possessiveness on the part of both, fluff!

Words: 1500.

Art can be a means to convey what you want to say when you don't have the words to get them out of your mouth, you have never proclaimed yourself as the best artist in the world, but for as long as you can remember others have recognized your talent, you are grateful for the compliments of others who find charm in your work when you only find things to improve.

Perfectionism is something that tortures you when you look at your own work, you know there are things to improve but somehow when you draw the man of your dreams it's the opposite. Sometimes they tend to be simple doodles on yellow post-its, sometimes you draw portraits worthy of hanging in renowned museums, when it comes to Edward, you always find solace. A calmness in painting is like a therapeutic remedy.

Edward couldn't stand the itch in his nose, he had to sneeze covering his nose with his shoulder, you stopped painting and looked at the palette in your hand "Sorry" Edward apologizes in a low voice but you can hear him, you move away from the canvas to look at him "No need to be completely still my love, it's okay" you inform him mixing different shades of brown to paint his hair.

Edward kept as still as possible even though he is only sitting on a chair with a dark blue background, he couldn't help but think that when he poses for you it reminds him of an ancient king asking his star painter to do a portrait of him to show his greatness and power. But he knows he is not a king, he is still a little incredulous how someone like him managed to date someone like you, someone who looks at him with so much admiration, so much love that lasts for hours, even when you are out of your studio and he is at his most unfavorable moments you still look at him with great esteem.

"I think I will have to add more red to your cheeks, they are too red" you joke behind the canvas, Edward laughs at the comment, maybe in the past he would have refused to even have his picture taken, as he didn't like the way he looked, but now, he poses in front of you naturally as it is not the first time you paint him.

He doesn't mind that your studio is full of paintings, sheets full of drawings of him, he found it beautiful and wonderful, he started to love himself with your paintings, he sees the beauty that you see in him "Some day you should draw yourself too" says Edward calmly looking everywhere in the studio without turning his head.

"I don't know, self-portraits are hard to do" you reply placing a brush in your mouth as you use a palette knife on the canvas "Although it's not impossible either".

Edward remains satisfied with the answer and is silent again, he feels so excited with the result of the painting, you always make it a masterpiece at the end in his opinion. He scribbled sometimes on his accounting sheets and on his crossword puzzle, he drew question marks, and sometimes he drew you, or well, a caricature version of you, when he showed it to you, you cried, without you knowing you already started sobbing, it's different when they draw you.

Edward catches a glimpse of a rather large picture with all the drawings he has given you as a gesture of love, all the drawings placed as a big collage and protected by glass, under the picture, there was a signature "Eddie's Drawings".

His cheeks ache for he adores that you appreciate him too, it never crossed your mind to judge his drawing skills, you always received the little pen doodles with love "I'm almost done" you speak to him and he makes a happy humming sound, for you, you could be posing for days if you wanted to.

Again he thinks again, deep in his heart he loves it when you proclaim that he is your only muse, not Bruce Wayne, not another rich guy who pays for your paintings, Edward Nashton of KMTJ brings out your creativity to make paintings non-stop.

"I hope it comes out well in this painting," he says and you switch brushes "You always come out beautiful Eddie" you assure him as if it's a no-brainer.

Edward stretches his legs a little when he notices you are putting down all the brushes "More than the plain Mona?" you laugh at his question "More than the plain monkey" you reply and call him over to come to see the painting.

"wow" is the first thing he says when he sees it is him with various mixtures of paints that make it look great, he stays a few minutes fascinated with the work while you finish putting away all the paints and utensils.

"Do you want to take it home?" you ask taking off your Machado apron of various paint textures and Edward nods his head buzzing with delight as he takes your hand.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

"Is it a cow?" you ask looking at the paper in front of you, when they came in from your study day Edward wanted to show you a drawing he did on his break from work "It's a dog" Edward clarifies pointing to the somewhat deformed figure of the dog "it's you and me and the dog we saw in the park" he explains his drawing as you look happily at the drawing, so proud of him.

"It's so cute!" you squeal with happiness placing the drawing on one of the walls of the room "I think I'll put it in my next collection" you speak to him lovingly as the two of you embrace, Gotham nights are usually cold, but when you're next to Eddie it seems like the whole apartment becomes warm.

"I would like you to attend my next Exhibition will you go, right?" the two of you look at each other face to face Edward keeps his eyes closed completely in love with the position they are in "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The presenter looked at you with respect, he was sitting next to you with several question cards waiting for the program to start, all the time your facial expression was serious.

When the program started the presenter began with a charismatic talk about your works "So, tell us, who is that man who is always in your paintings?" he let out the question with a curious tone the cameramen pointed to your face looking for a surprised expression from you, instead you answered naturally.

"He is my partner, Edward, we have been together for several years and I always fell in love with his way of being" you start talking with a formal tone "When I see something I love, I want to capture it in my paintings so it can be immortalized" you settle back in your seat placing your elbows on armrests.

"Before I was looking for perfection in my art, but now I achieved it without realizing it" the presenter remains static before your speech "perfection is when I look at the effort I put in each work and that it was worth it" you look at the camera in front of you "sometimes art can hurt us, but I decided to be happy painting the love of my life".

The presenter you forgot his name gave a few admiring claps as you took a sip of water. God, you just hope Edward watches the show.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

The man in clear glasses leapt towards you to hug you both standing outside the program set, the stoic countenance disappeared when you noticed your boyfriend, he squealed with joy for the program "God, how I love you!" he proclaims and before you could respond he kisses you on the lips, you close your eyes to enjoy the moment.

"Me too Eddie" you reply kissing him again, you remember hearing about Edward's past, you wish the people who hurt your muse would suffer the consequences of their actions.

"I think I have inspiration for another painting, but this time I need to buy a darker green" you comment smiling at him, Edward gets excited "what kind of green?".

"Mmmm" you pretended to think making a thoughtful sound "What color is the Riddler mask?".

Edward almost choked on his own saliva, in a few times you have painted him as the Riddler and that makes him get more excited "I um, I think, I can tell which gree-en it is" he stutters nervously.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

There were nights when Edward tried to draw you with canvas, and you happily posed while Edward mixed different tones that you could easily make a rainbow vomit, still, it was a dream for you to see him like that, you swear he looks so cool behind the canvas, you seriously consider buying him a beret to match his beautiful eyes.

When Edward finished he proudly showed you the artwork, someone else would say it was a perfect Picasso with the drawings barely repeatable but for you, it was the masterpiece of the century.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes!

[recurring-polynya]

Over on the Renruki discord server, we’ve been having a lot of fun brainrotting over this Princess - Knight that @fluffnflightillustrations came up with. (You can see her beautiful illustrations here, here, and here)

The main gist of the AU is that Princess Rukia and Prince Ichigo are betrothed to each other, but they're only using it as an excuse to buy themselves some time until they can figure out a way to be with their actual true loves (in Rukia's case, her childhood friend Renji, who is now the captain of the castle guard, and in Ichigo's case, sweet serving maid Orihime).

There was a desire for fanfiction, which is, conveniently a thing that I do. Credit for the general scenario goes to Fluff, I just put some words to it. This is actually really more Ichihime than Renruki, but Renruki are certainly there.

(you can also read this on ao3 or ff.net)

Warning! Extremely fluffy, will probably rot your teeth. Also this is just meant to be fun and cute, not historically accurate in any way.

None of this would have happened if Orihime didn’t take her dusting so seriously.

It was a beautiful spring day, you see, all sunbeams and birds singing and fresh scents drifting in from the garden. It just made sense to open the window, so that the dust would get carried out on the breeze instead of floating around Prince Ichigo’s room and making him sneeze. Not that there was really all that much dust in Prince Ichigo’s room, because he was really a very neat and tidy person and also Orihime dusted twice a week. Also, Prince Ichigo was very cute when he sneezed.

Prince Ichigo was very cute most of the time, if you asked Orihime. He was very cute right now, Orihime thought as she leaned wistfully against the window sill, watching him as he scribbled in his journal down in the garden below.

Orihime wondered if he was writing a thrilling adventure story or a proposal for a new law that would improve the conditions of the kingdom or a touching poem about the symbolism of a ladybug he had just seen. Probably, Orihime thought with a twinge in her chest, he was writing a lovely and heartfelt letter to his betrothed, the elegant and gracious Princess Rukia.

Orihime probably ought to be jealous of Rukia. The Kuchiki princess was beautiful, of course, but she was also graceful and gentle and knew the correct and polite thing to say in every situation. She had a thousand gorgeous dresses and a pure white horse and a brawny knight who escorted her everywhere and made very serious faces so everyone knew how important Rukia was, even though Orihime had met Sir Renji a few times and he wasn’t actually a very serious person. He just pretended for Rukia’s sake, that’s how wonderful she was. And, of course, Rukia had to be wonderful, because she was going to marry Ichigo.

They would make such a beautiful couple that Orihime was sure she was just going to be in tears for their entire wedding. Not that she was going to be invited to the wedding, but maybe it would be in a place that she could sneak in and get just a teeny tiny glimpse. Maybe they would even hold it in the gardens. Rukia would look so perfect among all the flowers. Ichigo was an outdoor sort of prince, too, in Orihime’s opinion. He always looked so heroic when the sunlight caught his hair just so, just the way it was catching right now, because he wasn’t…wearing…

Orihime straightened up suddenly, glancing madly around the room. Sure enough, there it was, on its special stand on the dresser, right where he always left it. Orihime snatched it up, and ran back to the window.

“ICHIGO!” she hollered out the window, waving his royal crown frantically. “YOU FORGOT YOUR CROWN AGAIN!”

Ichigo looked up from his notebook, blinked a few times, and then felt around on top of his head blankly for a moment. “Oh! I guess so!”

“Do you want me to bring it down to you?” she shouted down.

Ichigo opened his mouth and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh…well… if you’ve got the time. I don’t want to cause you any trouble, but if you’re not busy it is awfully nice outside today.”

Orihime leaned down, eyeing the trellis of morning glories mounted to the wall below Ichigo’s window. “I’ll take a shortcut!” she declared.

Ichigo’s widened as she realized what she was about to do. He waved his hands frantically. “No no no no no!”

“It’s fine!” Orihime declared, swinging herself out the window and onto the trellis, Ichigo’s circlet slung over her wrist like an oversized bracelet. “I am a great climber!” Carefully, she took a step down, and then, more confidently, a second.

“I’m not worried about your skills, I’m worried about–”

As Orihime settled her weight on the next rung of the trellis, there was an ominous creak.

“--the trellis,” Ichigo groaned.

There was a sudden crack, and Orihime’s foot dropped out from under her. She grabbed desperately at her handholds, but the sudden weight was too much for the flimsy wood structure. Orihime squeezed her eyes closed and tried to remember what kind of bushes were planted directly below Prince Ichigo’s window as the trellis gave way completely. Whatever they were, she hoped they were soft.

The scrape of branches and harsh landing never came, however. The whistle of wind past her face ended abruptly with a male shout of “I’ve got you!” and a pair of warm hands supporting her knees and back.

Oh, oh, oh! Orihime couldn’t open her eyes, she couldn’t. Every muscle in her body was squeezed painfully tight. Prince Ichigo had caught her. She was in his arms right at this very moment. Was he looking down at her right at this moment, his gentle eyes filled with concern for– for–

“Orihime, are you alright?”

Orihime’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Princess Rukia’s worried voice. Her heart leapt into her throat. For a brief moment, Orihime panicked, before she realized that Rukia didn’t look even the least bit mad at seeing her brave and heroic fiance with his arms full of clumsy serving maid. In fact, Rukia looked rather out of breath, in fact, and there were a number of leaves stuck in her hair. Her own tiara was on a bit sideways. Rukia must have dashed halfway across the gardens to make sure Orihime was all right, that’s just the kind of princess she was.

“Orihime! Is anything broken? I am so sorry! I don’t even need to wear that stupid crown except for state occasions! If anything has happened, to you I swear, I’ll… I’ll…give up my throne!”

Orihime blinked owlishly at Ichigo, who had just run up and was now looking over her like he very much wanted to check for broken ankles, but was too afraid to touch her.

“She’s fine, you dramatic dope, she just got the wind knocked out of her,” Princess Rukia muttered.

Orihime looked at Ichigo. Then she looked at Rukia. Then she looked up into the face of the person who had caught her, who was evidently very much not Prince Ichigo.

Sir Renji grinned sheepishly back at her.

Orihime frowned. She…supposed that Sir Renji must have been guarding Princess Rukia, as he usually did, except that he wasn’t wearing his guard uniform. Well, he was wearing the pants, but his jacket was missing, although Orihime had noticed that he often took it off when he was training (she especially liked it when he and Prince Ichigo practiced their swordplay together, although Ichigo didn’t take his jacket off nearly so often, unfortunately). Even his undershirt seemed to be mostly unbuttoned, and Orihime self-consciously tore her eyes away from the significant amount of black ink on display. Maybe he had been training with Princess Rukia at swords, when they noticed Orihime’s predicament? His face was certainly pretty flushed, and most of his hair had fallen out of his usual ponytail. There seemed to be a bunch of red marks on his face. Orihime glanced back at Princess Rukia, who was, of course, an accomplished swordswoman in her own right.

Princess Rukia was adjusting the neckline of her very pretty day gown, a dress that definitely would not be very practical for swordfighting.

“Do you have to do that?” Ichigo hollered, shading his eyes with one hand.

“I don’t want them to fall out.”

“Is that even a thing you have to worry about?”

“That was unnecessary, Ichigo.” Rukia looked up. Her lipstick looked a bit smeared.

“Speaking of unnecessary, do you really have to use the bushes directly under my window?”

“Byakuya never comes over to this side of the castle. Anyway, good thing we did, eh? Who would have caught Orihime, otherwise?”

“I would have been faster and caught her!”

“Pbbt! Would it kill you to be grateful to Renji?”

“It was really nothing,” Renji mumbled.

“It was not nothing, and I am grateful!” Ichigo protested. “You have probably been holding her long enough, though!”

“Ah, right!” Renji agreed, and leaned over to set Orihime down on the grass outside of the bushes. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, no, don’t be!” Orihime waved him off. “Thank you for saving me from my own clumsiness.” Before he could straighten up again, she leaned forward and squinted at him. “You’ve got something on your face. Hold still a moment, I have a handkerchief. Take your crown, Prince Ichigo!”

“That’s, really not–” Renji stuttered, but Orihime was a quick draw with a handkerchief.

“What is this?” Orihime frowned, rubbing vigorously at his jaw. “At first I thought it was blood, but it looks more…like…” Orihime felt her face suddenly go hot. “...lipstick.”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Sir Renji said very quickly. He paused for a thoughtful moment. “No, it pretty much is. But we have a very good explanation.”

“Do you?” Ichigo asked dryly, crossing his arms. “I’d love to hear it.”

“We were practicing,” Rukia replied loftily.

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to hear it.”

“For a play?” Orihime asked in a tiny, hopeful voice.

“Let’s take a walk, okay, Orihime?” Ichigo said suddenly. “You two just… I don’t care what you do. Thank you for catching Orihime, Renji. I mean that sincerely.”

“It was my honor and duty, Your Highness!” Renji boomed, seemingly happy to be back on more solid ground.

Orihime’s thoughts raced as Ichigo led her down one the beautiful manicured path of the royal gardens. She just couldn't believe it. One on hand, it was true that in addition to her perfect manners and courtly graces, Princess Rukia did possess a number of very un-princess-y skills, such as climbing trees and arm wrestling. Orihime was pretty sure she had seen Rukia pick a lock once. Rukia was certainly capable of being sneaky, but only in the sense that she was just so talented at so many things. On the other hand, Orihime knew in her heart what a good person Rukia was, kind and loyal and fiercely protective of her friends. She couldn’t possibly imagine–

“Oh, Prince Ichigo, I’m so sorry!” she cried. “You must be just devastated. There must be some misunderstanding! I can’t believe that Princess Rukia would… would…” She felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“Orihime, listen to me,” Ichigo said very seriously. “Rukia is a very good person, one of the best people. She is a great friend and would never do anything to seriously hurt me. Annd…” He shrugged. “...she’s been in love with Renji since before she ever met me, although I’m not sure she knew it at the time.”

“I don’t understand,” Orihime snuffled.

“We have…an arrangement,” Ichigo sighed. “Our betrothal keeps our kingdoms on good terms and more importantly, it keeps us from having to be betrothed to anyone else. It makes my folks and her brother and sister happy, and gives us an excuse to not dance with weirdos at royal balls.We’re going to keep putting off getting married until…well, indefinitely, hopefully, or until she can find some way to convince her brother to let her marry Renji.” He regarded Orihime very seriously. “You won’t tell anyone, will you? Those two knuckleheads should be more careful, but they really do deserve to be happy.”

“You can trust me!” Orihime declared. “Oh, Prince Ichigo, you’re such an amazing person!”

“Me?” Ichigo frowned suddenly. “What did I do?”

“Just that you could be engaged to such a beautiful and perfect person like Princess Rukia, but–” Orihime sniffled, trying to keep from becoming overcome with emotion, “but you (sniff) let her go so she can be with her true love!” It was hopeless. Fat tears were rolling down her cheeks now. She pulled out her handkerchief, but when she noticed that it was already smudged with Rukia’s lipstick, she just started crying even harder.

“Hey, hey, don’t get so upset! Here, I’ve got you!” Carefully, Ichigo wiped first her left cheek and then her right with his own handkerchief. It was honestly unfair, how warm and kind his eyes were.

“See, and now you’re the one comforting me!” Orihime wailed. “Prince Ichigo, you’re…you’re too good!”

Ichigo barked out a laugh. “Oh, Orihime, you’re the one who’s too good to be real. Rukia’s…something…alright, but she’s…well, she’s not the person I want to marry, you know? I get as much out of this arrangement as she does.”

“But what if you did meet some new princess and fell in love with her?”

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I’m not so sure that would ever happen. But that’s sort of the beauty of the whole plan, you see? If I…if I wanted to marry someone else, I’m actually free to, we would just have to break up in a way that would keep our families on good terms. Rukia wouldn’t want to stand in the way of my happiness any more than I want to stand in the way of hers.”

“But then she would need to find a way to marry Sir Renji right away, so she didn’t end up getting engaged to someone else!”

“Er…right. I…think they’re working on that. I try not to ask too many questions.”

“But what if they came up with a plan before you found a better princess! Then you might end up getting engaged to someone else! Ohhh, this isn’t a very good plan at all, Prince Ichigo!”

“Ye-eah…I, uh. That would be okay, actually. I could deal with that.”

Orihime blinked. “Oh,” she said, not really understanding.

Ichigo blew out a big breath of air. “Because I care about them, obviously! Renji’s just nuts for her, you know. She acts cool, but he’s pretty far gone on him, too, it’s, uh, pretty, um, sweet. If they could find a way to be together for real, that would be worth it. We were pretty young when we got into this arrangement, and at the time, I was pretty down on the whole idea of getting married, but, well, I’ve gotta do it eventually, right? It, uh…it doesn’t seem so bad to me now.” He took a deep breath. “I think I could find someone I could be happy with.”

Orihime set her jaw. “Prince Ichigo, I still think you are too nice to be real! But if there is anything I can do, please allow me to help! I know all the servants in the castle and I am great at keeping secrets and I may not look it–” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “but I can be very sneaky if I need to!”

Ichigo chuckled. “I just may take you up on that. But for now, just keeping it a secret is good enough, okay?”

“You can count on me! Wild tigers couldn’t drag it out of me! I’m not sure why they would try, but they would get nothing from me!” Orihime mimicked locking her mouth with an imaginary key, and then tossing the key over her shoulder.

Ichigo appeared to suddenly remember something. “Oh, er, I mean, as long as you’re in on it, now…well, you should know. Sometimes Renji and Rukia almost get caught and I have to cover for them. So there might be a situation where it seems like I have been kissing Rukia. But I have not. I have never kissed Rukia. Well, I had to once, because people were watching, but neither of us liked it.”

“I understand,” Orihime said, scratching her nose. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Welllll…I just…didn’t want you to think…”

“Oh!” Orihime exclaimed, realization dawning. “I see! If they almost get caught, should I try to make it look like I was the one making out with Sir Renji?”

“No,” said Ichigo. “No, please don’t do that.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment. “Why are you smiling like that? Please tell me you aren’t thinking about making out with Renji.”

“Hmm?” Orihime looked up. “Oh, goodness, no, silly! I was just thinking that it was nice…that it was sort of fun…to have a secret with you, Prince Ichigo.”

Ichigo’s expression softened. “You know, I think so, too.”

[chokiipng]

Hay fever : Genshin various

a/n : suffering from seasonal allergies isn't fun . so instead of trying to do school work, i'm gonna write hcs to make myself feel better

character(s) : Xiao, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Childe contents : fluff with a bit of crack (my specialty) + : reader has really bad seasonal allergies

Xiao :

he doesn't really understand tbh

he plays it off as a common cold at first and entrusts you with Verr, much to her annoyance. he didn't realize the true severity of the situation until a week had passed.

he's heard of seasonal allergies before, so it's not like he was entirely clueless, he just didn't know how to go about treating it.

because of this, he turned into a big ball of concern for the entirety of spring

he asked everyone he could for help, even that ginger haired harbinger (to which he had no clue since he basically lives on an iceberg)

this also happened to peek Zhongli's interest, who then took him to Bubu pharmacy to learn more. it took Xiao about 5 different interrogations to actually visit Bubu, he cursed himself internally for not checking there in the first place

of course, Baizhu laughed it off and informed the both of them on how allergies work, how they're triggered, and how to prevent/soothe them

if you sneezed/sniffled, he was immediately by your side with a tissue and some water. itchy eyes, he had a small bottle of eyedrops for you courtesy of Dr. Baizhu and Qiqi

it was amusing to say the least, watching a feared Yaksha running around frantically in order to soothe your allergies

of course, he soon picked up that it was because you went outside every goddamn day to complete commissions and to pick flowers for who knows who (Qiqi, you often found yourself picking herbs with her because who could say no to that face?)

he legit locked you in your room at Wangshuu Inn and did your commissions for you. he didn't want you in any pain, so he stayed with you when he finished all of his tasks

he didn't isolate you though, but if he takes you out he makes sure you take your allergy medicine (given by Qiqi, ty bby) and that you have a mask on

Diluc :

he never really experienced hay fever, but he knows the gist of it

he's heard stories of it from customers of the Angel's Share and was immensely grateful to the Archons for blessing him with immunity to seasonal allergies

but he wasn't prepared to catch you practically sneezing your guts out one morning

Diluc drops everything, much to Adelinde's horror, and orders for a box of tissues and water immediately. he whips out the blankets from under the couch that he knew you hid and props you on some pillows he fluffed in a panicked rush

the maids watch with a nervous chuckle as he runs around the mansion, completely forgetting about his shift at the Angel's Share and his nightly heroic duties

as soon as he calms down from the initial shock of how hard allergies hit you, he asks you how your feeling and if he can do anything

the next day he asks Donna (who stutters at his mere presence), who mind you is an employee at the Floral Whisper, since Flora isn't there herself about hay fever. he figured that people who worked at a flower shop would know about allergies caused by the pollen produced by flowers

he brings back medicine that you've been instructed to take daily as to lessen the affects of your allergies

despite his day duties, he offers to take up your daily commissions during the days you are physically unable to do them or just does them of his own volition

he trusts that the maids will take care of you in his stead

in the mean time, you're allowed to roam the city as you wish, but that's about it. he threatened Lawrence and Swan that they would feel the wrath of retribution if you stepped foot outside the city

Mondstadt was a land of eternal springtime, there was no way in hell he was letting you out of the city without his supervision

while all of this may be a bit much, he makes sure to let you know that this is just him caring for you. he doesn't want to seem overbearing and trusts that you know what's happening to your body and how to treat it

Kaeya :

he laughs at your demise

what did you expect ?

but he really is worrying on the inside

he makes sure to check in with Barbara just to make sure that you're not suffering from a lethal disease

once he knows that they're just seasonal allergies, (almost) all his worries subside and he sighs of relief

he notifies Jean beforehand (but sometimes forgets), he works considerably less during the time of your allergies since he doesn't really trust anyone else to take care of you

he also doesn't drink as much, surprising, he knows

he refrains from bringing you flowers as he usually does and instead spoils you with unnecessary affection

Kaeya doesn't worry as much since he puts faith in you that you know what's going on in your body. since they're seasonal allergies, he realizes that you must've gone through this before and know how to treat it

since you can't really cure it, you just act more cautious in the outdoors

he often accompanies you on your daily commissions and such, just to be sure that your okay. he takes over the moment you pause to sneeze or itch your nose even once

aside from this, he's the other reason why your allergies are unbearable

once they're all done and over, he teases you relentlessly about how reliant you were on him when in reality it was him doing your tasks of his own volition rather than you asking him. you told him several times that you could handle it, but he persisted nonetheless

he's more reasonable during your hay fever, and despite his unnecessary comments, you find it endearing

Albedo :

he is among the few men who are actually calm during the situation, but since when is he not?

he probably already has a remedy for you that greatly lessens the affect of your allergies

but even without it, he trusts that you know how to handle it

the only factor in here that would cause chaos-

is Klee

once Klee hears you sneeze all hell breaks loose in Albedo's workspace

she runs around everywhere looking for tissues and then ends up bringing Mondstadt's entire supply, which you and Albedo laugh nervously at

once Klee calms down, you explain the bare minimum of hay fever, which she manages to understand

while he has faith that you can treat it yourself, Albedo still recommends that you stay inside more rather than going out exploring and looking for chests, to which you sheepishly comply

Jean cannot thank you enough when it comes to Klee's behavior during this season, as Klee tends to spend more time at home with you and Albedo once you finish your commissions so that "you don't feel lonely!"

she even drew you a picture to show how much she cared!

if you can't sleep at night because of your allergies, Albedo (who is probably still up working) will gladly allow you to indulge in his studies or to just simply read with you until you fall asleep

he too is also happy that you managed to tame Klee

Childe :

this man has no idea what the fuck hay fever is

need I remind you that he grew up in the land of perpetual winter, hay fever doesn't even exist to him. unlike everyone else, he hasn't even heard of the concept

so when you hold a finger up during your weekly sparring, he pauses with a curious tilt of his head

he screams in horror as you sneeze out all of your bodily fluids not once, not twice, but three times

Childe calls off the spar and cradles you in your arms as if you're about to die

it's until he rushes you to Baizhu in a panicked frenzy that he realizes that its...a fever?

now Baizhu is a patient man, he had to raise a zombie child who basically loses her memory each time she wakes up and wields a sword/cryo abilities

but he was getting tired of Childe's endless questions quick.

Childe shrieks as the normally passive pharmacist slams his hands down on the counter with a sickeningly sweet smile

he ceases in his questions, apologizes for bothering him, and races back to the Northland Bank in a cold sweat

it takes you explaining it in a calm voice for him to finally understand it

and he takes this very seriously

while he knows that it's seasonal and that you've gone through it before, he can't help but worry for you

he coddles you, and he doesn't relent even if you tell him

he slaps a mask on you, takes away your fighting privileges, and even order his subordinates to keep an eye on you at all times

that is if he's not already

he clings

he's attached to you

he just wants you to feel better, and you appreciate it, but it can get a little too much sometimes

and while you do tell him this, the same situation happens every year when spring comes around and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Baizhu can't catch a break from the rowdy harbinger

[littleoldrachel]

"well, it's the thought that counts"

for the wonderful @rachfielden-xo who literally sent this in a month ago (sorrrrry and thank you!!) and asked for well, it's the thought that counts with scott and alan from this prompt list.

this legit turned into scott teaching alan to make pancakes and i'm not even mad about it. the recipe the boys are using is [here].

[if you wanna prompt me, hmu!]

*~*~*~*~*

There are lots of things Alan doesn’t understand.

Black holes. Why his momma isn’t coming back ever again. The reason a Mars sunset streaks blue. Why Virgil has become some soulless cavity and John won’t say a word. How, despite year after year of technological advances, there’s still no evidence of alien lifeforms out there.

Why Scott never has time for him anymore.

It’s been days since Scott even said more than a few words to Alan, weeks since he last crushed Scott at videogames - he hasn’t even taken him to the park since -

Well.

And it’s not that he doesn’t love spending time with his other brothers; Gordon annoys the heck out of him on a daily basis but makes him laugh till it hurts far more. John is the one who gets him, who refuses to dumb down scientific explanations, who shares his passion for all things space. And Virgil - Virgil Before, that is - is the only person who knows how to hug him just right, who listens no matter how banal Alan’s worries are.

He loves them so much his heart might explode apart like a zombie’s head meeting his videogame character’s bazooka - except Alan’s not ever leaving them, not ever, not now he knows what that does to them all.

It’s just that Scott is fast turning into Dad, notable only by his absence.

And Alan doesn’t need another one of those.

More than that though, he can see the way his brother is running himself ragged trying to be mother and father and everything in between, and despite Virgil’s interventions and John’s best efforts, it’s not getting any better.

Which is where Alan comes in.

Alan is going to save his brother because he’s no baby, despite what everyone thinks.

What he lands on is simple but effective: he’s going to make Scott his favourite breakfast and draw him a card to say thank you, because he wants Scott to know Alan sees everything he’s doing to keep them afloat.

The card is straightforward enough - he’s no Virgil, but he’s pretty sure it’s clearly a rocket that he’s drawn. His tongue pokes out as he colours in as carefully as he can, only going over the lines a few times. He draws himself and Scott in the window of the rocket, grinning wildly (perhaps a little manically if he’s being honest) and adds Mars to the background.

Inside, in wobbly, looping script he prints:

Deer Scotty

Thanks for bing the best. I love you.

Love

Alan

Mission: Amazing Card - completed.

Now he just needs to make the pancakes.

Right then. First step is the ingredients.

In theory, this should be straightforward enough. Alan has seen Scott do this numerous times, had half-listened when Virgil taught John, and has eaten more of these pancakes than he can begin to count (but never enough!).

Alan pushes a chair against the counter, uses it to hoist himself onto the surface, and scrambles to the cupboard.

He knows that there’s a mountain of flour involved, because the little puffs of white powder always fluff through the sieve and make him sneeze. What he didn’t anticipate was that there would be different types of flour, in neat colour coded packages. He picks red, because it’s his favourite colour, and dumps as much of it as he can through the sieve, poking at it with his fingers to push it through.

It doesn’t look as neat as when Scott does it, and the entire surface is already dusted with flour, but most of it is in the bowl, so he’s doing okay.

He goes for brute strength with the eggs, smashing them into the side of the bowl. Little pieces of shell slide into the mixture with the yolk, but it’s so slippery he can’t get them out. Fingers coated in sloppy flour, he retreats. Maybe Scott won’t mind the crunchiness.

The milk carton is far heavier than Alan anticipated, and he loses his grip on the condensation-slick handle, watching in slo-mo horror as a glug of milk hits the side of the bowl, ricochets off it -

And splat!

It lands straight on top of Alan’s card, and Alan -

He’s not going to cry, he’s not -

His mom always said he shouldn’t cry over spilt milk, except this time it’s ruined everything.

Milk drips off the counter and Alan clenches his fists, willing the baby inside him to shut up. Eventually, the upset reassembles itself into a grumpiness that has him whisking furiously. The mixture slops all over the place, decorating the floor, countertop and his too-big apron with splatters of batter. It’s a lot runnier than Scott’s usually is, but by now Alan Does Not Care, he just wants to get this done and hug Scotty.

He’s just standing in front of the oven, wondering which dial is for which of the flame things, when the kitchen door opens.

Sixteen-year-old Scott, whose eyes have circles far deeper and greyer than they have any right to be, is standing there, and Alan becomes Very Aware all of a sudden of what the kitchen must look like through Scott’s eyes:

Flour absolutely everywhere (he can feel on his eyelashes and tickling his nose), little pools of batter all over the floor, Alan with his hand on the stove to work out how to make the fire come out -

“What the hell.”

Scott takes a deep breath, presses the heel of his hand to his eyes and says, “what are you doing, Alan?”

Alan forces himself to stand up tall like Dad always says. “Making you breakfast.”

There’s a pause, and Scott surveys the disaster zone once more. “I can see that,” he says finally, voice a little faint.

Alan swallows because this isn’t at all like he wanted it to go, but he brandishes the bowl of batter and does his best to peel the card from the surface. “For you!”

Scott stares, but takes the bowl. “Is this.... pancake mix?”

Alan nods eagerly, “your favourite! And here.”

The cursed milk smudged his amazing drawing, but it’s still sort of a rocket. Scott carefully prises open the card, and his whole body softens as he reads the message inside. “Allie,” he manages, “Allie, this is so -”

He presses a fist to his mouth and Alan watches in horror as his Neptune eyes shine overly-bright. This was supposed to be a nice thing, but he got it all wrong -

“I’m sorry,” Alan cries, flinging himself at Scott in a hug. “Don’t cry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make such a mess -”

“Allie, no -” Scott’s voice is firmer now, but Alan can’t bear to look at him falling apart like Virgil and John and Dad, because Scott is Scott and he can’t fall apart. It will obliterate Alan’s heart like a grenade in a zombie hideout if he has to see Scott cry.

Scott crouches though, and Alan’s forced to make eye contact. He’s relieved to see that Scott’s face has lost its sadness.

“Thank you so much for all of this, Allie,” Scott says, so sincere and so strongly, it washes something warm and safe over Alan’s shoulders.

“But it’s t-t-terrible! The pancakes are all wrong and I don’t know how to cook them and the card got milked and - and -” Alan can hear the wail in his voice and he resents it; it knocks hard into the defiant figure inside him that insists I’m not a baby!

“It’s not terrible, Allie. It’s - it’s lovely.”

“You’re saying that to make me feel better.” He can’t help but pout.

“No, I mean it. I love it - all of it.”

“Even the mess?”

“Even the mess.”

“Why?”

“Because… Well, it’s the thought that counts, Allie.”

Alan wrinkles his nose and Scott grins, using his sleeve to wipe off some of the stray flour. “I mean it. The fact that you wanted to do something nice for me makes me really happy.”

Alan hmphs, but tucks himself into Scott��s side and Scott obliges, squeezing him tight in one of those cuddles Alan has missed so much.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much, Allie, but I love you and I’m gonna do better, ‘kay?”

Alan stiffens and pulls away. “Wait no! That’s what this was for, Scotty.” He wants to stamp his foot in frustration so bad, but knows that’s Baby Behaviour and so he settles for a scowl. “I don’t want you trying to do more when you already do everything! I just miss you, I don’t need you to do anything better. I just need Scotty.”

Scott is blinking too fast for the second time in ten minutes. “Did Virg put you up to this?” he says a little hoarsely.

Alan frowns. “No. But if he thinks the same thing, shouldn’t you be listening?”

Scott’s eyes widen, and he ducks his head, covers his eyes again.

Alan goes back in for a hug, presses his cheek into Scott’s chest and listens to the steady thump-thump of his heart. He feels Scott take a deep breath and put his armour back up, and Alan’s heart makes a sad little clench.

“What do you say we make some pancakes together? Ones that are actually edible?” Scott clambers to his feet with a grin.

“Hey! They would be!” Alan protests, but then he looks back at the mixture, which is congealing in watery lumps and he fights a smile.

“But first,” Scott flattens the card and clips it to the fridge with a magnet, and Alan -

Alan’s heart skips.

It’s been a long time since any of them - even Virgil - have had anything hung on the fridge. But his little card - his silly, ruined card - is up there in pride of place and that means more to him than he knows what to do with.

Scott ruffles his hair, dislodging the flour that’s gathered itself there, and for once Alan doesn’t have the words to protest. Scott half-turns, catches Alan’s lost expression, and shoots him the gentlest of smiles.

“Ready to make the best pancakes in the world?”

As if he even needs to ask.

Scott easily sorts through the cupboard, drawing out the blue flour, a pot of baking powder, and some sugar. It’s all white.

“Why do they have to make all the important stuff the same colour?” Alan complains, and Scott laughs, loudly and easily. It’s a wonderful sound.

“Here’s something that’s a different colour,” Scott says, tossing eggs between his palms with an assured ease. “It’s egg time.”

He passes one to Alan, and Alan goes to smash it against the bowl, when -

“Wait!”

Alan pauses, mid-swing, and Scott plucks the egg from him.

“Gently, Allie. Like this.”

Scott repositions his hands so that his grip on the egg is looser, then gently moves his wrist to give one sharp tap against the side of the bowl. The egg breaks, golden yolk dripping out, but miraculously, no shell escapes.

“Reckon you can do the next one on your own?” Scott asks, and Alan nods at once. He looks to Scott to check he’s doing it right, and every time Scott is there to meet his gaze.

(As he always is, always will be).

Scott helps him to lift the milk carton, and between them, they pour it into a little well that Scott instructs him to dig in the mixture. Scott hands Alan a whisk with a solemnity that Alan recognises from Gordon’s pranks, and sure enough, no sooner than he’s taken it, Scott is brandishing a spatula and yelling “en garde!” and then it’s all out war.

“Loser has to whisk the mixture!” Scott says between parries, and Alan knows he’s being deliberately slow and clumsy but if that’s how he wants to play, then so be it. Alan blocks a few of Scott’s easy strikes, and feigns left, before darting right to jab him in the ribs.

“Victory!” he yells.

Scott crashes to his knees in mock agony. “You got me!”

Alan pushes the bowl towards him smugly. “Your punishment.”

“So merciful.”

“No talking! Only whisking!”

With Scott’s expert hands, the batter turns into a smooth, creamy mixture, and he guides Alan as the chocolate chips are poured in. “And now we fold.”

“Fold? Like paper?”

Scott grins, and Alan scowls. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Sorry kiddo. Like this.” Scott shows Alan a gentle scraping motion that turns the mixture towards the centre of the bowl.

“Are we there yet?” The chocolate chips are making Alan’s mouth water, and as messy and inaccurate as his recipe might have been, it was at least quicker.

“Nearly. Let me just heat the pan.”

Scott dashes the pan with a blob of butter, and smiles softly as it begins to sizzle and melt, before he turns sharply to Alan.

“Hey, Allie?”

“Mm?”

“Please don’t use the stove without me or Virg there, okay?”

A ladle of pancake batter goes into the pan, and Alan stares at it in anticipation.

“But it was an emergency.”

“And you could have asked Virg, even if you wanted to surprise me.”

Alan frowns, crosses his arms. “He wouldn’t have helped, he’s always in bed these days.” Scott swallows, the crease of concern back between his eyebrows and Alan’s heart sinks. “I didn’t mean that. He would help, really.”

“He’s just really sad, Allie. Give him some time.”

“We’re all really sad,” Alan says, in a smaller voice than he intends.

There’s a pause, and Scott says, equally small, “I know.”

Scott removes the pan, passes it to Alan, and gently adjusts his grip, until -

“One, two, three, flip!”

The pancake does a perfect somersault, landing uncooked side down in the pan, and Scott beams, even though his eyes look so sad.

Silence falls once more, and Alan finally looks up at Scott, surprised when he’s already watching him.

“I love you, Allie. So much.”

Alan blinks, but the words come easily - he’s not yet at Gordon’s age where such declarations are Deeply Embarrassing. “Love you, Scotty.”

“I know the last few months have been really rough,” Scott says slowly, as though he’s measuring each word out like ingredients. “But never forget that I love you and all of us love you. It’s okay to be sad, but you don’t need to deal with it on your own, okay?”

Alan nods, tucks himself into Scott’s side once more, because the contact feels more important than words right now. Heck, he doesn’t even know what he could say to that. It’s everything he knows technically, but hearing it said out loud? It hits different in a way that knocks all the words right out of his head.

On cue, the pancake has turned into a golden-brown puffed up beauty, and Scott grins widely.

“Bets on who’ll be the first to smell this and make their way down to join in?”

Alan laughs. “Definitely Gordon.”

“Nah, Virg has a weird sixth sense about pancakes.”

*~*~*~*~*

They’re both wrong as it turns out.

John slinks into the kitchen, followed shortly after by a bright-eyed Gordon (“that doesn’t count, Allie!” “Does too!” “Does not!”) and a dull-eyed Virgil.

Whilst Scott and Alan stack up the pancakes, Scott corrals the others into beginning the clean-up process. There’s some good-natured ribbing about the Disaster pancake mixture, which has started solidifying alarmingly quickly, and Virgil spots the card on the fridge, turning to Alan with the first genuine smile he’s seen from him in so long.

Everyone is ravenous by the time there are a sufficient amount of pancakes for them all, and then it’s every man for himself as they wrestle for sauces and squabble over the last pancakes.

It’s the first time they’ve all eaten a meal together in so long, and it’s the best gift he could have ever given Scott, even though he couldn’t have planned the highs and lows of this particular adventure. Virgil is actually laughing about something with Gordon, and John is inserting the occasional comment with a smile, and Scott -

Scott meets Alan’s eyes with a proud smile.

Alan’s heart feels like it’s actually glowing, a soft, golden light in his chest, because he did that - he and Scott.

They make a good team.

And they always will.

[vaguely-concerned]

TF x Graves, 2500 words, complete and utter fluff

Stifling another yawn against the back of my hand I glance over at the window, which shows only the flat dark of a moonless night outside, before turning my eyes back to the line of T.F.’s naked back.

I’m already undressed and perched on the side of the bed, watching as T.F. is still in the middle of his nightly ritual of hanging or folding his fine clothes up all properly and neatly, lest they, I don’t know, unduly crease somewhere they ain’t meant to or somethin’. Listen, I keep my clothes in a pile on the floor by the side of the bed, right next to the shotgun, both within easy reach in the case of a middle-of-the-night emergency skipping of town. Our priorities in these matters don’t really intersect much, but to each his own and so on.

I don’t know why I’m waiting for him to come to bed to lie down myself, exactly — my eyes are already making a spirited attempt at staying shut on me whenever I blink, I’m pretty sure I’d be out and snoring in about three seconds once I got settled — but my skin has that thin restless thrum all through it that I know from experience won’t be satisfied until he’s settled into place against me and besides, the view is nothin’ to sneeze at in the meantime. He stands there shirtless, belt unbuckled and hanging loose around his narrow hips, though the fastenings of his trousers are still done up. In the light of the oil lamp across the room he’s in a rare state of relaxed unselfconscious disarray, his hair grown out long enough again that it spills over his shoulders and down his back while he fastidiously fastens the cufflinks back into place on the empty shirt so they’ll be easy to find in the morning. As he finishes up with the cufflinks he sings to himself under his breath, a good-natured jaunty little tune I vaguely remember the Brick would sometimes break out once you got a couple of drinks in him.

The hum under my skin grows higher and keener.

Stretching an arm out I hook my fingers into one of his belt loops and gently pull him in by it towards the side of the bed, until he’s standing between my legs. It prompts a half-bemused noise from him, but he goes along easily — when I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my forehead against his belly he seems to catch on, though, a sound of amusement vibrating through his chest.

He slides his hand to the back of my neck, twining his fingers into the short hair there, thumb trailing back and forth along the hairline.

T.F.’s too damned scrawny to have much in the way of padding anywhere, but there’s the warm body softness to him here nevertheless, the sweet yield and shift of a living thing whose pliancy belies the supple strength beneath. I rest my cheek against the flat of his stomach and sigh, moving my hand at the small of his back in slow caressing circles.

“Come to bed already,” I murmur, too sleep-softened along the edges to worry overmuch about makin’ sense.

He chuckles, fingers stroking through my hair. “Well, I was on my way, but then I was waylaid by some deplorable fellow in the process. Hell of a thing.”

I grin and turn my face up to him, so that my chin is resting against his belly and my lips brush his skin when I talk. “Huh. Sounds like a real shady character. You want a trustworthy sorta guy to escort you safely the rest of the way?”

“With such dangerous reprobates skulking around in the area, that’s probably for the best,” T.F. nods somberly, fond amusement deepening his voice. He runs his thumb down the bridge of my nose. “Could I afford to hire the services of a strapping upstanding gentleman like yourself, though?”

I make a nonchalant sound in my nose, squeezing him closer against me for a moment. “Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it, this one’s on the house.”

His thumb drifts down to rest at the upturned corner of my mouth as he grins back at me. “Hey, looks like it’s my lucky day.”

I kiss his stomach and lean back enough so I can start in on the fastenings of his trousers — not with any sort of heat behind it, there’s no hint of sex in the air, but in a weird way this is equally satisfying, the everyday-textured contentment of being close without any particular purpose, being the one to slowly render him naked in front of me for no other reason than that he lets me, his hands still smoothing patiently through my hair while I work.

Once I’ve got all the buttons sorted I run my thumb along the sharp edge of his hip bone until I can tuck it into the waist of his trousers and use it to tug them down. We get them about half-way down his thighs like that before we have to pause for him to shimmy out of them the rest of the way on his own, his hand resting on my shoulder for balance as he does the traditional one-legged hop to extricate his foot. Serves him right for only ever wearing pants that might as well have been painted onto him. I mean, not that I’m complainin’, mind.

“Whoa!” he says, laughing as he almost overbalances at the last hurdle, but my hand shoots out to steady him by the hip before too much disaster can be wrought. “Well, not the smoothest strip tease I’ve ever pulled off, sorry about the inconvenience.”

I nose at the newly revealed crease of his hip over the edge of his underwear. “Eh, that’s okay, if I actually wanted a proper show I’d just suggest a round of strip poker again and sit back and watch while you lose.”

“Oh, that’s a strange yet beautiful dream world you’ve made up for yourself there, Malcolm. It’s touching, really, the things the mind will do to protect itself from the truth. Positively — aah!”

T.F. jumps as I draw some of the skin of his hip between my lips and use them to nip sharply at it. His startled yelp turns into a snigger as I let go, possibly ruining the castigating effects somewhat when I brush my lips soothingly over that spot right after.

“Let that be a lesson to ya,” I say sternly.

“A lesson on what, that your mom was apparently half turtle?”

I grunt, still trailing soft kisses over his skin. “That judge in Piltover was right back then, you are an incorrigible menace to all decent and right-thinking people everywhere.”

“First of all, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Malcolm, thank you. Two, including yourself among the ‘decent and right-thinking’ feels like the invention of some fresh new form of fraud by way of imposture unfolding before my eyes, and it’s an honour. And third, that seems to me to be some very selective memory you have there, considering His Honour Judge Highton had some even more colourful words for you after you blew up the entire north wall of the court building breakin’ me out.”

“He might’ve been given to wearing a damn silly mop on his head, but you couldn’t fault him on his vocabulary,” I concede. Before that whole incident I’d honestly thought the wigs were some sort of practical joke the Pilties would play on gullible outsiders, but as it turns out no, if you get sent to jail in the twin cities they add the indignity of makin’ someone wearing a dead badger on their head break the bad news to you. It’s a strange ol’ world out there, alright. In Bilgewater, where people are much more sensible, the justice system basically boils down to the bounty board, or — if you’ve really managed to make a nuisance of yourself — a bunch of captains may call a temporary ceasefire with each other and go get your ass together. I’ve found that the risk of getting on the bad end of an unfair trial is about the same in both places, though of course the Bilgewater one tends to be harder to come back from if carried out to its fullest. I consider myself a bit of an expert in these things.

T.F. makes a thoughtful sound. “To be fair I don’t think anyone had ever given him cause or inspiration for profanity like you did.”

“Aw. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He leans down and kisses the top of my head before he straightens for long enough to work his second foot free as well, standing there in just the sleek silky underpants he somehow seems to have an endless fresh supply of wherever we go. (My money’s on some sinister underground ring of lingerie-oriented tailors across south-eastern Valoran, for the record; when it comes to secret societies the Noxians just can’t help themselves.)

“I do my best. Hang on just one moment, I’ll be right back,” he says and ruffles my hair before he turns around, which I would complain about except that the view is, as previously mentioned, impeccable, and I’m sleepy enough to be magnanimous.

After meticulously folding his trousers and leaving them with the rest of his clothes, T.F. moves over to the table across the room and extinguishes the oil lamp, then whistles under his breath as he produces a card from somewhere — he does this, seemingly from thin air and no matter how little he’s wearing; I prefer not to speculate too much about how, exactly — and lets a little magic into it so it gives off a low glow, only enough to light his way the short walk back across the room, ‘cause in T.F.’s world the stubbing of toes and smacking of shins against unexpected furniture in the dark is somethin’ that happens to other people. That probably says some things about him I’m not ready to go puzzlin’ out at this time of night, and that he wouldn’t want to have anyone go puzzlin’ about too hard in the first place anyway.

When I hold out my hand for him in the dark he smiles and takes it, twining our fingers together, and I use the hold to tug him in and deposit him, in a neat controlled wrestler’s roll held close against me as I lay down, to his side of the bed. He laughs again at that, a surprised delighted sound that edges dangerously close to a giggle but hey, I ain’t no snitch, so who’s gonna testify against him, huh?

The card ends up on the far side of his pillow after the tumble, still giving off a glow, enough to illuminate the bed and lend the shadows around it some warmth. It makes the bed seem a small cozy island, the rest of the world rendered a not-unfriendly ocean of darkness around it.

T.F. looks at me like the world’s most contented castaway, bourgeoning crow’s feet punctuating his smile on either side and fingers still linked with mine. His hair is mussed from the meandering fall onto the bed. If I were only fractionally less about five seconds away from fallin’ asleep, my body might start to get ideas about it. Well, tomorrow is always another day.

With the back of my free hand I brush some of his hair away from his brow, and he cranes into it like a well-pleased cat. Even with the blankets tangled around our feet and the not-quite-right positions we’ve ended up in, having tumbled into place rather than settled ourselves with purpose, everything feels warm and loose and comfortable, like I could fall asleep like this even with the decidedly odd angle my arm is at.

As if sensing that the drowsiness is about to claim me for real, T.F. brings our linked hands up to his face so he can press his lips to my scarred knuckles before he lets go, then reaches to pull the covers over us, taking a moment to tuck the blanket around my shoulder properly before snuggling under it himself, hooking his leg over my thigh as he settles into place. I shift until we fit together, the familiarity of how to rest against each other just right comfortable like an old and well-loved piece of clothing. On a sigh he rests our foreheads together, craning forward the tiny amount needed to brush our mouths together and humming contentedly when I meet him there. It’s a slow kiss, but it lingers, a dry sweet press of lips like one last spark sending the day off down into the gently drifting murk of sleep that’s about to claim me for a few hours.

When it ends — I don’t think either of us was really the first to pull back, at some point the kiss simply, in the way of snowflakes on tongues, melted into something different and less defined with the warmth — there’s a moment when my eyes can still fight against slipping shut. It’s weird, the way you can look at someone every day for years and still not feel like you’ve had your fill. T.F.’s sharp narrow face, his high pointy little cheekbones and mouth still curved with a smile as he watches me back — there’s something to knowing I’m gonna see all that again tomorrow morning that all the damn money on Runeterra couldn’t get you. And take it from me, from what I’ve seen of the world there ain’t a lot of things in this life enough money won’t buy. Stumbling across one of them long before we even knew what we had, by a stroke of little more’n dumb fucking luck… sometimes it feels like the biggest heist we ever pulled.

“Hey, Tobias?” I say, brushing the tip of my nose against his as my eyelids finally give up both the battle and the war and slide closed.

“Hmmm?” he says, cheerfully drowsy as well.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur, because I can’t think of any damn happier thing in the world to say to him.

He wraps his arms around me, his hand stroking meanderingly up and down the scar-crossed span of my back, fingers trailing over my skin with the perfect amount of firmness because he’s taken the time to learn exactly how much pressure it takes to make it comforting. As sleep starts pulling me under to calmer depths I tuck my head under his chin, so my face is pressed to the line of his throat and to his chest. He smells so nice, all warmly real and well-known like my own breathing.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees on a yawn, nuzzling at the top of my head and tightening his arms around me, just for a moment.

I've been trying to write stuff -- literally just anything, no matter how meandering and nonsensical -- to try to break out of a writer's block; it's not really working so far but at least I've got SOMETHING tangible to show for it at the end of the day, so, you know, uh... partial success I guess?? haha

The idea of T.F. having a judge somewhere out there who considers him the One True Nemesis of his career, J. Jonah Jameson style, even though T.F. barely even remembers his name, came from a wonderful conversation with @inversway, and the idea makes me laugh so hard every time I think about it.

ETA: Also put this on AO3, so I have somewhere to put these ficlets that isn't just tumblr! I'm grimly clinging on to this blue hellsite like a obstinate barnacle to the hull of the Titanic, but I do realize it's not the best place to archive uh anything lol

[voiceswithoutlips]

Woof! goes the demon

— pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader (Female) — genre: Fluff — word count: 1.3k — Rating: G — warnings: none — collab with: @biaswreckme​ my partner in crime <3

— summary: 

Hoseok nodded at you, taking the paper from your hands. “Y/N, don’t worry, I got this! I love dogs!,” he said cheerfully as he made his way to your living room. You failed to notice how he cautiously looked around the room before entering, or how he avoided sitting on the sofa that Odin was perched on, looking at Hoseok like he was a whole meal. 

— A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY RARACUBE @heejinnien!! I hope you like the fic, its our first attempt at crack (we’re not good at that) HAVE AN AMAZING BIRTHDAY, MAKE LOTS OF MEMORIES, ENJOY YOUR CAKE. YOUR BOOMERS LOVE YOU <333333 — birthday party:  @hoebii, @jinings, @voiceswithoutlips, @biaswreckme, @xiaokoo​ @tae-cup​ @taegularities​ @moccahobi​

“Hobi!!” you said as you opened the door to your apartment. You had to leave for  an emergency meeting at the office but unfortunately you couldn’t find a dog sitter for your precious puppy so your friend Hoseok had agreed to look after your dog, Odin, for the day. He was standing in the doorway, looking like a runway model with his red hair combed back carefully to show his glorious forehead. He was wearing a grey sweater with washed blue jeans. The sweater had an actual stuffed bear attached to it, it was adorable, you almost reached out to pet the cute plushie. Maybe not the best choice to be a pet sitter, but it was completely and unashamedly Hoseok.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a cute smile and stepped inside to remove his sneakers. 

“Okay, so here’s Odin’s schedule, all you have to do is feed him and play with him a bit, he’s still young so he has a lot of energy,” you instructed as you handed Hoseok a piece of paper. You had written down your dog’s meal times and what he liked to eat to make it easier for Hobi. “You don’t really have to take him for a walk since I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

Hoseok nodded at you, taking the paper from your hands. “Y/N, don’t worry, I got this! I love dogs!,” he said cheerfully as he made his way to your living room. You failed to notice how he cautiously looked around the room before entering, or how he avoided sitting on the sofa that Odin was perched on, looking at Hoseok like he was a whole meal. 

“Thank you so much Hobi, I don't know what I’d have done without you!” you quickly pecked his cheeks and left the apartment, missing how his whole face turned red, like a cute tomato. 

When your boss said the words “emergency meeting” you thought something had gone wrong, turns out he just wanted to go over the project details, again. You had already heard all the arguments and details so you just sat back in your chair and toyed with your phone, bored out of your mind. Your thoughts far away on your favorite boy, Odin, the cutest Shih Tzu you’d ever seen. 

You discreetly moved your phone under the table as your boss rambled on and turned on the application that was linked to your nanny-cam. You had bought one out of concern, since you always left Odin with a dog sitter.

Your jaw almost dropped as soon as you saw what was happening in your living room. Hoseok was standing on the sofa, his blue shark socks in stark contrast to the brown leather, he was holding a chicken breast in his hand. Odin was trying to jump up on the sofa but his tiny legs barely reached the top of the seat, he was yapping at Hoseok, tail wagging at the speed of light. Hoseok bent down on his knees and brought the chicken closer to Odin but instead of going for the chicken, the little Shih Tzu mustered all his strength, leaped high into the air in a graceful display and effectively tore off the left leg of the stuffed bear that adorned Hoseok’s grey sweater. 

You almost jumped in your seat guiltily and quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed it, but apparently you had been discreet enough. You could see Hoseok was as shocked as you were; he was frozen in place, his eyes and mouth wide open staring at Odin, who was happily running around with the bear’s leg on his mouth, unfazed and unaware of the rip on the human’s sweater with stuffing coming out of it. You had no idea what to do now. Would Hobi be angry with you?

You looked at the clock and even the seconds seemed to slow, the meeting dragging over and seemingly never-ending, until it finally did. You stopped looking at the feed when you saw what happened, a little apprehensive on how Hoseok would react when you talked to him in person, but there was no more stalling. the meeting was finally over and you needed to get home to deal with the situation. You were dreading going home to the chaos and Hobi’s expensive sweater ruined, so you stopped by the bakery to get his favorite treats to try and appease the situation.

You almost considered taking the stairs going up your apartment, but that would be too much of stalling and you didn’t really want to walk up several flights while carrying a big jar of Nutella. You stopped at your front door, pausing and carefully and quietly pressing your ear against the door, trying to listen to what was happening inside.  You heard a loud sneeze with some sniffling noises and a soft, “Odin, no!” You take a deep breath and press the password to enter, gathering the courage, and you step into the place. 

You were certainly not anticipating the scene you found. Hoseok is a tall man, so to see him like that was unexpected, to say the least. You found him perched on the sofa’s armrest, crouching, a panicked expression that was visible not only in his face but his whole body, and Odin was just sitting there, innocently looking at him with his head tilted to the left, that ripped leg still in his mouth. If you didn’t know your dog was a very good boy, by the way Hobi was looking at him, scared like that, it would’ve seemed like Odin was evil incarnate.

You could not believe your own eyes. There was a turned glass on the coffee table, water spilled all over it, the books you usually kept on it ruined for now; there were little pieces of fluff scattered on the floor that you were certain they were from Hobi’s sweater;  Odin’s food bowl was turned over and there was kibble all around it. Had World War III happened at your place and no one let you know?

You gasped when you saw the true state of your friend’s sweater, the second leg of the bear was gone too, stuffing dripping everywhere. It was a massacre. As soon as they heard you, Odin dropped the bear’s leg and ran to you, putting his paws on your legs and stretching his back, tail wagging happily, telling you what a good job he did, while Hoseok stared at you with a look of guilt mixed with shock that you were back earlier than you said you would be. You leaned down to pet Odin’s head, but you maintained Hobi’s gaze and raised your eyebrows.

“What… What happened?” your voice could not hide your state of shock at the scene.

“Oh, its uh….” Hoseok trailed off looking around the room, trying to form an explanation in his head. “Y/N, I have to be honest with you, I think your dog is possessed…” he said in a low voice, almost a whisper. His eyes trained on Odin who was comfortably sitting on the floor, between your legs. 

You looked down at the small Shih Tzu, the puppy looked like an angel, innocent eyes stared back at you with love. You tried to keep it in, but you burst out laughing at the ridiculous thought. You saw Hoseok grinning, he was still sitting on the armrest with half a bear hanging off of him. 

 “By the way Hobi, I’m so sorry that he did that to your sweater...” you start feeling a little guilty, that sweater was really cute and now it was ruined. But deep down you thought it wasn’t entirely the dog’s fault, after all, there was a cute bear dangling off Hoseok the entire time, of course it would strike a dog’s attention. “It must be pretty expensive, and I don’t know if I can afford to buy you a new one or even if it’s mendable at this point…” you rambled, nervously clenching your hands.

Hoseok looked at you with amusement in his eyes, clearly not mad about what your dog had done to him and his clothes.

“Well… you have to repay me for that expensive sweater, don’t you think?” he smirked,  “So ...how about a date?"

[ajokeformur-ray]

Don’t you DARE hide from me // Joker x Reader // soft comfort.

Summary: You feel so sad and heavy that there’s a lump lodged in your throat which is making you feel like you’re going to be sick. Joker knows your every mood, your every thought process, your everything and he knows what you need better than you do.  

Self-indulgent and self-insert gentle fluff because sometimes you just have to give yourself what you deserve. 

Word count: 3, 272.

NSFW but this GIF is what he looks like when he’s been thoroughly fucked out by you 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Sat cross legged were you on your bed, your back pressed up against the pillow upon which you rested your weary head every night. Your head was bowed, your shoulders hunched in on themselves. The emotional weight which had been on you this day was great and now you were at the day’s end, when the sun had long since sunk below the horizon and the gloomy grey Gotham sky had turned into a vast and limitless black expanse. Not punctuated was it by stars due to the polluted atmosphere of the city and you felt sick with all that you were thinking and all that you were feeling. You didn’t feel safe within yourself. Your thoughts seemed not to be your own, your emotions seemed altogether greater than you and everything was just too much. You felt so sad and so heavy that you felt nauseous. Every swallow was coupled with the acidity of bile swirling around in your stomach. You felt truly awful this night and you didn’t even have it in you to approach Joker for what you knew you needed. It was instinctive for you to distance yourself from the ones that you most loved in the world when you were feeling bad, even if you didn’t want to, and as such you hadn’t sought your Joker out.

No, you had stood up from the worn sofa almost an hour ago without saying anything to a lightly chuckling Joker, so weary and so knowing was he, and walked into the bedroom. The door had closed behind you with a quiet but firm click and you had been alone. You weren’t alone though and though the distinction was subtle, it was an important one. You were never truly alone so long as you had Joker in your life. He was entire life, your reason and your purpose, your motivation and your inspiration. He was your everything. Even so, with him being your greatest comfort, you knew that you would break if you allowed Joker to comfort you, to even come near you. You had barely allowed him to touch you this day, so badly had you been feeling that even your skin had been itching, as if to mimic the itching which was going on inside of yourself. The mind and the body were so connected, this was true, and as such if one was even a little bit off balance, so too could the other.

With your hair falling about your face, framing it like curtains, cold tears ran steadily down your cheeks. Quiet sniffles broke the silence of the room, which rang in your ears and made the pressure that was within your very being feel heavier. Oh, you needed your Joker, you needed him now more than you ever had before, at least for a while, but you felt like your limbs were made of lead. What would be the point in getting up to go get him or calling him to come over to you? You would still feel just as sick, just as sad, just as heavy. But... but you would be able to breathe again. You would feel his unconditional and undying love for you seep into the cracks of your psyche and begin to soothe your raw and bleeding wounds from the inside out, and you would feel a little bit better for it. Joker had always, always been able to make you feel better within yourself. He knew you better than you knew yourself, he knew everything that you ever needed from him from even a single glance, and there was nothing that he couldn’t or wouldn’t do for you if it meant that you were, at the very least, okay. Joker was completely devoted to you, just as you were to him. At the core of all that you did for each other was love, just love, and it was this which kept you both coming together again and again. You would always catch each other’s fall, even before the other knew that they were falling, and sometimes you even fell together.

Together.

Like a switch had just been pulled, all at once was your mind full of thoughts of all the time that you and Joker had had together in the past; all the good and the bad, all the ugly and the beautiful and everything in between. As these wonderfully maddening and alluring thoughts filled your head, your body took a natural and deep breath. More tears poured down your cheeks and you found one word crawling its way out of the pit of your stomach, up, up your throat. It lingered on the very tip of your tongue, your tongue fuzzy, weighted was it by all the love which was held within this one word. It was a word which made you smile so naturally, intertwined was it with your heartstrings and connected were they to the very corners of your lips. It was a word which gave you hope when there were no emotions to be felt, it was a word which made you get out of bed, which made you want to try. It was one word, just one, but it had the power to make or break your every day. It had the power to fill your heart with so much love that it got stuck in your throat and made you choke upon it. It had the power to make you laugh when you could only cry, to make you stop and think... to make you feel when you were only heavy and numb. It was the one word which you often spoke aloud to yourself in the dead of night when you needed some courage, something to hold onto, when you needed anything. It was the only word you could believe in on your worst days, and the one that you needed the most even on your best:

Joker.

The word left your lips so quietly that it was barely a whisper, but then you cleared your throat, raised your head to the ceiling in some sort of thanks, though you knew not whom or what you were thanking, and spoke the word borne from magic once more. “Joker.” Your body took another natural and long breath and as you exhaled, your breath shuddered and tears spilled hotter and faster down your face. They dropped off your chin and fell into your lap like rain. As you brought your head back down, finally giving in to everything that you were thinking and feeling, a sob ripped from your throat. You clapped a hand over your mouth, desperate to muffle the sounds of your distress, but it was too late. So thin were the walls in the cramped but well kept apartment, so highly attuned was Joker to his Y/N, and no matter whether you communicated to him verbally or not, Joker would always hear you. You were not feeling safe inside yourself, but you were safe with Joker and that would never ever be any different. You released a soft noise of pain and through your tears did you choke out, “I need my clown so badly.” 

“Your clown, huh?”

You jumped, your heart pounding in your head. When had Joker opened the door? The walls were so thin that if you sneezed outside the apartment on your way in, Joker could hear you from the bedroom, but you had been so outside of yourself and so lost within all that you were thinking and feeling that you hadn’t even heard him approach from the living room. How long had he been stood there? Knowing Joker and his hatred of seeing you in pain, it would have been mere seconds, but as you looked at him could you see the redness in his eyes, the way that those green oceans were overflowing with love and with concern. He was crying for you and he didn’t even know why. But it didn’t matter, not really - you were hurting and Joker couldn’t abide even the idea of that, so devoted to you and to your well being was he.

At the sight of your Joker, your breath left your lungs in another rush and you spoke his name at the same time, an exclamation of relief and of love, even with the tidal wave of sadness which crashed over your rocky shores in that moment. Joker cooed softly as he made his way over to you, crossing the room in a few easy strides. He was with you in no time at all, his hands reaching out. They curved to the slopes of your shoulders, familiar and well loved terrain which he had explored often. “Please, Joker, I - I need - “ Your breath caught in your throat again at the touch of his hand, at the sound of his voice, and tears flowed down your already damp cheeks at a faster, more temperate rate. 

Joker shushed you, the sound low and soothing. “I know, Y/N. I know.” He stepped forward so that your legs were in between his and he bent down at the waist, pulling you into that soft red material which you knew and loved so well. You threw your arms around Joker’s neck and squeezed yourself into him. Joker shifted his stance to better accommodate you, so thoughtful and so considerate was he, and he gave you the simple yet valued experience of crying yourself out in his chest. He shushed you continuously, barely stopping for breath, rocked you in his arms and pressed kisses anywhere and everywhere he could reach, as if the love within his simple but weighted affections could sink into your skin and soothe your wounds from the inside out, just as you had always done for him. You were deserving of nothing less than all of his attention and so that was what Joker would give you for as long as you needed and wanted him to. 

When your sobbing showed no sign of stopping and Joker’s back was beginning to ache from the awkward physical position which he was in, he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to the crown of your head, his breath ghosting across the surface of your scalp and making you shiver, and then pulled away from you just enough so that he could look at you, so that he could really look at you. Whatever he saw only tugged more firmly at his heartstrings for did a weighted sigh escape Joker. He swept a hand through those romantic dyed green waves you loved so well, and then made his way to the other side of the bed, toeing his Oxfords off as he did so. Joker hadn’t even fully eased himself down onto the mattress before you were scooting across, needing your clown to protect you from yourself. You needed him so badly that it was only making you cry harder. Your anguish sunk deep into Joker’s ears and yanked at his heart strings.

“Easy, doll. Just breathe for me, can you do that?” Joker’s voice was stained with worry for his Y/N, his arms and legs wrapped tightly around you so that you knew beyond all shadow of a doubt that you were protected within the safety of his embrace, that Joker was there for you in all the ways that you needed him to be, that he loved you and that he would stay beside you. His hands cupped your face, his calloused thumbs stroking away your tears. Any which fell which his thumbs didn’t catch were caught by his lips, so reverent and so gentle with you was he, especially when you were feeling as terribly as you were. Joker continued to shush you but otherwise did he remain silent. He gave you no sweet nothings, he only soothed you as best as he could with his gentle touches, loving kisses, and the pleasure of his company. Both of you were independent creatures but the love which existed between you was so strong, so vast and so limitless that it brought you home to one another each and every day.

Joker stayed with you, he stayed. There was no judgement, no rush to soothe yourself or to simply stop the way that you were feeling. You were unravelling in Joker’s hold and he allowed you to use his body to hide even from yourself as he gave you the space to just be. His arms were warm and solid around you, the steady and regular beating of his heart was the lullaby which quieted your tried and tired mind. Periodically did he shush you gently when your breath caught, but it wasn’t a noise designed to tell you to stop, no. No, it was a noise designed only to comfort. You were breaking apart and Joker was holding you together with his own body as he met you with acceptance, with empathy and with love. You weren’t okay and if you being honest with yourself, as always did you at least try to be, then you knew that you wouldn’t be for a while. But that was okay; sometimes you needed to not be okay, to let yourself feel what was demanding to be felt. Just so long as you didn’t allow it to wholly crush you, just as long as you knew that once you hit rock bottom, there was only one way you could go: up. As defeated as you were, you weren’t defeated and that was a subtle but an important distinction, and one which Joker reminded you of in moments like these. 

Finally, with your eyes sore and rimmed with an angry red which matched the macabre painted smile which Joker wore so that he didn’t have to smile with his own mouth; so sick was he of hiding his true, beautiful self, with your lungs burning and your entire body exhausted, you had finally, finally cried yourself out. Joker eased himself out from under you while you lay there, staring unseeing up at the ceiling, and his resounding giggle as you whined and reached out for him, flexing your fingers in the universal motion of grabby hands, was stained with sympathy as he dashed from the room in a whirlwind of colour. You heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and then the muted padding of socked feet on worn carpet before the sound of water came from the kitchen and then Joker was back, with a wet flannel in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“I’m here, Y/N.” Joker’s soft rasp made you open your eyes, as did the gentle setting down of the glass of water on the bedside table. He let out a soft noise of pain and of empathy as he gazed down at you, and the tears he had already shed for you had marred those deep blue triangles, which traced down his face like a mockery of his own pain, so interconnected and so intertwined with you was he. Softly, gently, Joker wiped your face over with the wet flannel. His strokes were fluid, his skin barely grazing yours as he made sure to get every single piece of your skin which he could. The sweet man even run the flannel over your ears and dipped behind them, too. When at last it was done to his satisfaction, Joker hummed and grinned smugly as he chucked the flannel, now warmed with the heat of his hand and of your face, into the dirty laundry basket. “Feel better, angel?”

You nodded and sat up as Joker handed you the glass of water - you would take care of yourself. He knew that you weren’t feeling up to it, however, and he was more than content to love on you hard enough for the two of you until you were feeling a bit more like yourself. Joker understood better than most how bad it could be sometimes and through it all, the two of you had always done your best as individuals to be there for each other. There had been times when both of you had been suffering, but your love was so strong that you had been able to find the strength to look after each other and in that were you yourselves taken care of. You had such a deep and rich love, it was bigger than your own selves and it defied all explanation... what you shared together just was and neither of you would trade it in or give it up for the world, though you would each make the opposite trade in a heartbeat. You were each other’s world, for better or for worse. As you finished the glass and Joker disappeared back into the kitchen (for the man of the house cleans up messes, he doesn’t create them, thank you very much) before he was back in a literal whirlwind of colour, so dramatic and so free was he, you realised that nothing was ever really wrong so long as you had your clown to look at you like you were the only thing he could see.

Briefly, in your leftover anxiety while Joker had been out of the room, had you considered that he would leave you to it, now that you had cried yourself out. You knew, deep within your heart, that that would never be the case and so you laid back down, safe in the knowledge that Joker was coming home to you. He was your clown blanket and it was a duty which he took seriously and always did Joker know with a single glance how you wanted him; beside you, underneath you or, in this case, above you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your legs around his waist and squeezed Joker into your body, wanting all of him to be all that you knew. Oh, but he was your whole heart. Joker wrapped his arms around you, sliding them beneath your back so that he could lift you more firmly into his chest. His body was hot against your own, you could feel the heat of him seeping through all three layers which he wore, and though you were pressed against him as tightly as you could be, it still wasn’t enough for you. You wanted more of everything and you squeezed yourself into Joker, making the man grunt low in the back of his throat under the force of just how hard you were hugging him; though of course it didn’t hurt him. You would rather die than hurt your Joker in any way, even accidentally. 

“Thank you for loving me, Joker.”

Joker hummed sleepily; he had been falling asleep on you, so comfortable was he. You felt a stab of guilt but you forced it away, knowing well as you did that Joker would be tenderly frustrated if you even thought about apologising. You were always his number one priority during any time of the day or night. His arms slid out from underneath you and he slid down your body so that he could rest his face in the warm crook of your neck, his thin painted lips pressing clumsy kisses to the flesh which he found there. He hummed again, a soft smile on his face. You shifted your hips, got more comfortable underneath your clown, and as you closed your eyes did Joker’s most important, most wholesome truth follow you into sleep:

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

For there was nowhere you could go where he would not follow.

AF/J @impulsiveclown @notyourlittledoll @astheworlddturns @fluffedstar @jokersqueenofchaos @germansarechill @tsukiakarinobara @d-dreemurr @lynnesm @sagyunaro  @docsportello @ezziesworld @flowerglitterwoman @ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokers-doll @jokershyena @arthurjokersgirl @antonija89 @lilliryth @hotpacino @obsessedandthirsty

[meereens]

a dream of spring rarepairs week - day 2: children

A little foster brother might be just what Tommen needs to wean him away from Margaery and her hens. In time they might grow as close as Robert and his boyhood friend Ned Stark.

9

On Tommen’s ninth nameday, Mother stuffs him into a spring green Essosi doublet with a gold thread lion in the center. The lion is supposed to have two rubies for eyes, but one must have fallen out somewhere along the way—look, Mother, he’s winking—and Mother goes out into the hall to sternly talk at some maid until he hears a muffled sob. Her cheeks are splotched with red when she returns, red as lost rubies, and Tommen casts his gaze downward. His poor one-eyed lion is less frightening. Mother holds his shoulder like a plump mouse in a claw.

“Thieves in Maegor’s Holdfast,” she seethes, digging in her nails. “Were Maegor still master here, those little sneaks would have their eyes put out and their innards broiled for their treachery.” 

“What did you say to her?”

“To whom?”

“The...our servant?” 

“Servant no longer,” Mother tells him as her hands move to his laces. “Dorcas! Fetch us something green or gold, with gems sewn in. We cannot have the king playing the pauper on his special day.” 

The large woman standing behind a screen for his privacy silently shuffles over to his wardrobe while Mother rips him out of his clothes. The lion splits open, loosening the garment, and he holds up his arms so she can wiggle it over his head. 

“You must especially look your best to meet Lady Merryweather’s present.”

That excites Tommen. Meeting means something to make friends with, something to have and to hold like a—

“Is it a kitten?” There can never be too many kittens in the Red Keep. 

“No, but you will play together.” 

Tommen pouts at that. It will probably be a cuddly rabbit or a little puppy that will grow into a fearsome hound, animals that are lovable enough but cannot capture his heart in the same vein as cats. Margaery understands, he thinks. The doublet Dorcas comes back with is gold, with slashed sleeves, pearl buttons, and garnets lining the neck and shoulders in a crescent shape. His lion had more character, this he knows, but Mother seems at least more pleased than she was before, so he wears it down to the tourney held for his day. 

And what a tourney. Joff’s—his heart does a sad little flip whenever he’s reminded of Joff—was pure fun since they put an enemy straw man out for him to batter, but it was a shame they chose to hold it behind castle walls instead of outside by the bubbling of the river and the chirps of baby birds in trees. His is along the Blackwater, as it should be, and all the Tyrells come out to greet him first in varying shades of green. Margaery’s gown is the palest mint, her hair worn loose with a circlet of cloth buttercups on top. Buttercup would be a good name for a cat. She smiles and takes his arm, but as they are about to ascend to their seats, Mother says, “Lady Merryweather, don’t we have a guest for the royal box?”

All eyes turn to Mother’s friend, standing near the back of the rapidly growing group. An olive-skinned boy smaller than him peers out from behind her skirts. 

“Russell, go on and introduce yourself to His Grace.”

The boy rushes forward, punches off the ground, then flips before landing neatly at Tommen’s feet. He is too stunned to respond, much less clap for him. Mother does, prompting a few ladies to follow in her example. Russell kneels, and he notices how bushy his hair is, thick black tufts that stick out at every possible angle. He looks to Margaery for what to say, but her face is set in the same soft smile. 

“From this day on, Russell will be the Crown’s fosterling,” Mother announces in a regal voice. This time, everybody claps. 

11 

Russell’s nameday is today, and he keeps on reminding Tommen that he has to tumble for him the way he did for his ninth. 

“I was six and I had more skill in my pinky toe than you do now,” he boasts, puffing up his chest like a proud bird about to shit over a parapet. He taught him that expression, foul mouth included. He always wants to teach him things, from how to tumble to how to lie without bursting into tears to how to start a fight in Flea Bottom and come out scratchless. Half of what Russell claims he’s done when they’re not training sounds like something out of a fable; Lann the Clever’s natural son born thousands of years too late. 

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll box you on the nose,” he teases.

“Not fair—it’s too big a target.” 

His nose can charitably be called a lightly beaten potato; Tommen was shocked to discover nobody broke it. Grinning, he pulls his companion by the arm and leads him through winding stone corridors, their feet pounding at such a pace that Ser Loras has to run along to play his role as Kingsguard. Russell’s luck struck again when it came time to choose a mentor, since Mother wouldn’t allow the Knight of Flowers to serve as his. “But Ser Loras is my favorite,” he said when she revealed Ser Addam Marbrand would be his knight instead. “Favorites change,” she said.

My favorites never will. He almost misses the Queen’s Ballroom, backing up into Russell as they skid to a halt. 

“Are you holding a ball for me?” he launches into asking. “No—a feast?”

It must be hard for him, not knowing. Even worse, being the only one who doesn’t know. He is the first to whisper did you hear when they break their fast together, followed by an enticing rumor he hopes is not true or a tale so outrageously wild he hopes it is.

“No,” Tommen says as Ser Loras opens the doors. “We’re holding court.”

Inside, thick woolen carpets have been placed on the floor, and tapestries of contented animals lounging in meadows and forests cover the walls. There are three large chairs side-by-side, like he asked for, and Margaery sits in the rightmost with a cream kitten on her lap.

The kittens. Everywhere, the kittens. Clawing at loose threads in the wool, or curled up to nap, kittens litter the ground like snow in Winterfell. Each of Margaery’s ladies holds one, waiting dutifully in a line facing the thrones, while servants scoop up more balls of fluff with cradling hands. Grown cats prowl the ballroom as well, though there are fewer in their ranks. A velvet-capped bard strums a jolly tune as two striped ones twine about his ankles. The overall effect is the closest thing to paradise Tommen can imagine; Russell’s mouth is agape. 

“You...you didn’t.” 

“I did!”

Margaery claps twice. “Presenting the Court of Cats!” 

“You know I don’t like them,” Russell groans, but follows him through the horde regardless. 

“You will.” 

His friend has never had an appreciation for cats, holding his pets at a distance when Tommen brings them in to play or pretending they make him sniffle and sneeze. When pressed, he gives a flimsy excuse like I don’t understand them. 

That ends here today. Once Russell finds a cat to fall in love with, his doubts will melt away like rain. He knows they will; it is even surer than his father’s kingly blood running through his heart.

“If this is the Court of Cats, does that make you the king of cats?” 

He giggles as he takes the left chair. “Perhaps, though you’re the guest of honor. Sit!” 

Megga Tyrell presents first, hoisting a white kitten with a black face up for all to see. 

“Darling,” says Margaery.

“Adorable,” says Tommen.

“Looks like it dipped itself in soot,” mutters Russell. 

The king and queen exchange a look. “On to the next, then.” 

And so it goes. Every time a kitten is presented, even if the Mother’s most perfectly crafted creation, Russell manages to find fault with it. Some are mewling too much, or might as well be mute. Some have too much softness to their limbs, or are too scrawny. Some have tasseled ears that look silly, or their ears are too plain. Once he dismisses an exquisite silver kitten with pale green eyes because it reminds him of another cat that stole a piece of bread. Margaery’s ladies wilt one by one, letting their offerings back onto the floor to search for new ones that will undoubtedly get rejected also. The Court of Cats seems more and more pointless when—

“Shoo! Get out! This isn’t your place, you mangy beast!” 

One of the servants is trying to drive a dirty yellow cat away from the others. She kicks it with her foot, but it dives back between her heels, almost causing her to trip. 

“What’s going on there?” Russell calls out. 

The woman swoops down and catches the cat, who struggles madly from between her brawny arms. 

“Apologies, m’lord, this one must’ve snuck in. I’ll throw it out right away.” 

“No, bring it here. I want to see.”

Tommen eyes the proceedings with new interest. The intruder is uglier than the bad cat that used to visit his window at night, sporting a crooked, scowling jaw and missing its left eye. 

“He’s a pirate cat,” Russell declares. “He lost his eye at sea.” 

“It sounds like you like him,” he says.

“I don’t like him—I respect him.” 

“That is a good start, is it not?” asks Margaery.

The cat seems to think not, as he starts yowling at the top of his lungs. 

“His name is Buttercup,” Russell says, and the king of cats cannot contain his glee. 

15

He is almost sixteen. Almost a man grown, and feeling half a boy. Lady Olenna pulled him aside in the garden the other day to insinuate about performing husbandly duties, which he knows he has to get around to doing sooner or later. But why not later rather than sooner? Margaery is three-and-twenty, in the bloom of her childbearing years, still fecund if they wait until he is eighteen or nineteen or twenty, and he is the king. 

He has to remind himself he is the king. At the small council earlier, murmurings arose that the Queen of Meereen was planning to make her way across the narrow sea and reclaim what she believed to be her birthright. Russell’s father, his Hand for the past few years, fumbled around the issue before admitting they were woefully unprepared should dragonfire chance to rain down upon King’s Landing. 

That has been my week—fire and bloodlines. 

He cannot imagine any two things less appealing to think about. Ser Pounce, Boots, and Lady Whiskers trail him into the royal apartments, sticking their tails up at Ser Boros as they glide past. His bedchamber is a welcome sight, made more so by Russell tickling a surly Buttercup on the bed. 

“From rags to the royal bedchamber,” he says when he catches sight of him. “This cat has the life bards dream of.”

“And what of your life?” Tommen asks as he sits by them. Buttercup hisses and slides off to lurk beneath. 

“My life? I am the king’s dearest friend, of course! I whisper poison in your ear and thus I am well contented.”

“You do not.” 

They stare at one another, until Russell goes cross-eyed and sticks his tongue out of the side of his mouth. Laughter bubbles from Tommen’s throat, spreading to the corners of his eyes and falling down as tears. When it dies down, he feels a sudden emptiness.

“I am glad our mothers made us friends.”

Russell snorts. “Our mothers didn’t make us do anything, no more than you made me adopt my Buttercup.” 

“It seems like everybody is making me do things. My mother, the small council, even Margaery, sometimes. I am—I wish we could go be pirates.”

He feels the impact of arms being thrown around him immediately after he says it, the hug as instantly comfortable as it is crushing. “My poor king of cats,” Russell whispers. “They mean to take you away from me.”

I am king, Tommen thinks. But that does not mean he is free.

[vannahfanfics]

Keep Me Warm

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Characters: Natsu Dragneel and Lucy Heartfilia

Thump. Thump. Clang! Thump, thump, thump. Crash! “Dammit!”

Lucy groaned loudly as the ambient noises echoing through her small apartment dragged her unwillingly into consciousness. Not quite willing to relinquish the peaceful embrace of sleep, she yanked her comforter over her head and snuggled into her pillow in an attempt to return once more to its arms. Bang! Clatter! With an irritated growl, she flung back over and grabbed her alarm clock, peering in the gloom as her eyes struggled to adjust to its glaring neon numbers. 2:36 in the morning? What the hell is all this noise?! She fumed silently. Lucy had just returned from a rather perilous mission with Natsu- when were they not perilous when he was involved- from the mountains. The exhausting aspect aside, Lucy was fairly certain that she was coming down with a cold from the adventure and was hence trying to sleep as much as possible to stave off falling ill. She crunched her alarm clock in her hand before slamming it back down on her bedside table, her mood soured by the assault on her attempt to stay healthy.

She was still too groggy to recognize that the sounds were coming from within her own home rather than out in the street, so that is why her first instinct was to climb out of bed and march over to her window. She angrily threw it open, recoiling for a moment as the cold, harsh night wind blasted into her room. She was only dressed in a tank top and a pair of short-shorts, and she tried to ignore the icy breeze as it danced over her bare skin with eager fingers while she leaned out of the window to glare down at the cobblestone streets, attempting to find the perpetrator and give them a proper scolding.

“Huh? There’s no one there,” she mumbled and blearily rubbed her eyes. The pale moonlight shining down upon the street revealed nothing but shadows and a skinny cat skulking along the wall that overlooked the bay. In her sleepy delirium, Lucy paused a moment to admire the way the white light scattered across the shifting surface of the ocean, looking like diamonds sparkling in a field of blue flowers. “Pretty…”

Craaaaaash! “Owwwwww, ow, ow, ow, owwww!”

Lucy leaped nearly a foot in the air as the resounding clamor blasted through her apartment, and all traces of sleepiness immediately left her when she came upon the frightening realization that someone was in her house- a clumsy someone, but a someone nonetheless. Too concerned with her own safety to bother with appearances, she snatched her Celestial Keys off her nightstand and opened her bedroom door to peer out suspiciously into the night. Light glowed softly at the end of the hall in the direction of her kitchen, and she could hear hushed voices floating down the hallway, though she could not make out who they were or what they were saying. She held her keys tightly in her hands to keep them from jingling as she crept through the shadows, drawing closer to the intruders apparently raiding her refrigerator. She hid behind the ajar kitchen door to eavesdrop.

“Ooh! Chocolate chips! Whadaya think, buddy?”

“Nah! I want peanut butter.”

“What? Peanut butter sucks! How could you say that?”

“How could you say that? … Why don’t we do both so we’re both happy?”

“Ah! Great idea! You’re a genius, Happy!”

Lucy’s shoulders hunched up to her ears upon realizing just who had snuck into her house in the middle of the night. Of course. I should have known. Of course it would be those two knuckleheads! She thought bitterly as she stepped out from behind the door and into the threshold to gaze upon the disaster they had created. Lucy’s pots and pans had been dragged out of her cabinets, and presumably since they were located on the bottom shelves near the floor, Natsu had bumped his head on the jutting countertop trying to claim them, judging from the goose egg sticking out of his wild pink hair. Similarly they had raided her pantry and fridge for things like flour, sugar, eggs, milk, and the like, all of which were emptied of their contents and scattered across the kitchen, both their containers and the substances themselves. Natsu and Happy had apparently had particular fun making footprints and handprints all over the place with the flour before returning to their task at hand, which Lucy had deemed to be making cookies.

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing in my kitchen at three in the morning?”

As Lucy spoke up from her spot in the doorway, it was the boys’ turn to jump a foot in the air. As Natsu whipped around, spastically stirring a bowl of cookie dough, he grinned sheepishly at her.

“Oh, hey, Lucy. We wanted cookies, but we didn’t have the stuff to make it at home, so we came here~ Ya want some?” A pained groan slipped out of her mouth and she shook her head wearily while she face-palmed. There wasn’t going to be any explaining to them that it was socially improper to break into someone’s house in the middle of the night because they wanted to bake cookies for whatever reason, so she resigned herself to the fact that they were going to be hanging out in her house for the next hour, if not sleeping there because they were going to be too full to go home. When Lucy looked up, Natsu had somehow silently closed the distance between them, and she went bright red at his close proximity. “Hey, aren’t you cold, wearing so little?” He nonchalantly took the spatula out of the mix and licked the cookie dough off of it while staring into her eyes, which just made her flush darker.

“I was sleeping! Gah! Don’t look!” She wailed, having suddenly realized how provocatively she was dressed- more than usual, anyway- and turned around to fold her arms over her bust. It didn’t help that she had left the bedroom window open, and the night air was rapidly spreading through the apartment, making her shiver slightly. I’m cold now, because you mentioned it… Everywhere but her face, at least. She twitched as Natsu leaned over her shoulder.

“Hey, your face is really red. You’re not running a fever, are you? You said something about getting a cold in the mountains, right?” Lucy shook her head emphatically and stepped away from him, blushing further. Normally his lack of personal space didn’t bother her, but perhaps since she was still so tired, her mind just couldn’t process it like it normally could. As she did step to the side, though, Lucy suddenly had the bizarre sensation that she was falling, and her vision blurred before her eyes. What? She thought weakly. Her mind was falling too, into a trancelike state where she couldn’t process anything but the rushing of wind, though she wasn’t sure if that was in her head or in the apartment. Instinctively, her hands groped for something to steady her fall, and one of them found the solid muscle of Natsu’s upper arm. Just grateful to have something to anchor her to reality rather than plummet into the chasm that had formed into her mind, the rest of her body followed suit and she fell against the dragon-slayer. As she came out of the strange spell, she found that she was panting heavily and was shivering. “Hey! Lucy! Are you okay?” Natsu asked her worriedly. He was holding the bowl of cookie dough above his head, because she had nearly knocked it free, but his other arm was wrapped securely around her waist. Lucy could have lied, but she was too tired to.

“No… Natsu… I don’t feel good…” Somehow a switch had flipped in her, and all her energy had dissipated in that very moment. It was hard for her to even stand, she was so weak, and so she just clung to Natsu for support. She was also too tired to care about what a compromising and embarrassing situation she had landed in, and the warmth radiating from his body was oddly comforting. It feels so nice, she thought absently as she pressed her cheek against his chest, her eyes fluttering as she struggled to keep them open. She felt like she could fall asleep right there.

“Lucy! You’re really pale now!” Happy cried while clambering up onto her kitchen table to stand next to Natsu. He put a little blue paw against her forehead, the recoiled with a yelp. “Yowch! Lucy, you’re running a really high fever!”

“Here, Happy, hold this,” Natsu ordered and unceremoniously dropped the bowl onto Happy, who caught it with all his weight by essentially being trapped beneath it. His little limbs and tail flung about as he struggled to get out from beneath it, while Natsu, too concerned with Lucy to notice, put his hand under her chin to tilt her head up and pressed his forehead against hers. Even in her confusion, she did have the wherewithal to blush then, and she had to wonder how much that heat would contribute to the fever. “Mhmm. Lucy, you’re really sick,” Natsu confirmed. As he pulled away, Lucy had to fight the urge to pull him back, because something about that closeness was so important to her right then. That moment was ruined when she abruptly sneezed.

“Aw, Lucy, your sneeze is so cute!” Happy laughed as he popped up from behind the bowl, having finally made his harrowing escape. “Do it again!”

“Happy, I-“ Though she wasn’t, her body was more than willing to acquiesce to his request, and she covered her face as she sneezed again, this time a few times in a row. When her body settled, she was left feeling weaker than before, and her nose and face uncomfortably clogged. “Ugh…”

“All right, all right, enough of that,” Natsu scolded Happy, who flattened his ears to his head with a sheepish grin. “Lucy needs to rest.” I was resting until you so rudely interrupted me, she thought, but she strangely wasn’t so bitter about it. Somehow Natsu being there was comforting. Still, she had to get back into bed, so she begrudgingly pried herself off of him and attempted to walk down the hall back towards her room. That was a spectacular choice on her part that resulted in her flopping roughly against the wall and smacking her head on it so forcefully that a few of the pictures hung there shook.

“Ow…”

“Lucy!” Natsu was at her side in an instant, catching her under her arms as she slumped backwards; it was like he was magnetic, attracting her frail body back to him though she tried to separate herself. “Don’t push yourself.” She was about to utter some stubborn remark and reattempt the endeavor, but her words and her will suddenly vanished as Natsu easily scooped her up into his arms. The heat of embarrassment joined that of the fever in her face, and she hurriedly buried it into his shoulder so that he wouldn’t see, though he would likely assume the redness was a result of her ailment, anyway. She wasn’t sure why she was so flustered, anyway. She had ended up in a lot of compromising situations with him across their adventures, and being carried around like a princess was certainly on the lower end of the scale. So why is my heart beating so fast? Butterflies began to flutter in her stomach in tune with her elevated heartbeat, leaving Lucy in a twisted symphony of anxiety.

“Natsu, you can put me down…” she protested weakly. Natsu, of course, adamantly shook his head while marching down the hallway. With a resigned sigh, she just curled up in his arms, admittedly lulled by that ever-present fiery heat of his and the rhythm of his heartbeat. It wasn’t beating wildly like Lucy’s, but soft and slow, strangely meshing with her own frantic melody. “I’m sorry…”

“What’re you apologizing for? I’m the one who broke into your house and made you wake up while you were sick.” So he admits it, she thought wryly. He nudged her bedroom door open with his toe and carried her into the room, then shifted her so he could support her with one arm while he threw back the bedsheets. Lucy found that positively breathtaking for some reason, that he could hold her with one arm like that so effortlessly, but that thought soon passed into embarrassment. Ugh, what’s wrong with me? Natsu can beat up dragons; of course he can hold me in one arm. Half the guys at the guild could! But the fact that Natsu could and Natsu was made the fire on her cheeks burn all the brighter.

“I don’t know. I’m not used to being catered to like this, I guess,” she sighed as he gently set her down on the bed. She looked up at him bashfully- if she had been cute, her body ruined it with an ugly, congested sniffle- and squirmed slightly on the mattress in quiet discomfort. Natsu was her friend, so of course he would want to take care of her while she was sick. She just didn’t know why the whole situation was driving her so crazy. It’s just Natsu! Normal, everyday, brave, strong, handsome Natsu… Wait. She put her hands on her face, trying to hide the expression of acute mortification on her face, but Natsu just thought she was trying to warm her face up.

“Here, Lucy, lemme do it.” She squeaked in alarm as he pried her fingers away from her face and squatted down to lay the backs of his hands against her cheeks. It did feel crazy good; as the warmth chased away the ice in her skin, she slumped slightly in relief. Her face shone with a thin sheen of sweat, but if he was bothered by it, he didn’t show it. He just stared into Lucy’s face with this oddly serious expression, his eyes searching hers for something, and though she didn’t know what he was looking for she didn’t want him to find what was hidden in the depths of those pools, and she dropped her gaze, unable to continue to meet his. Not to mention the gloom and moonlight were playing all kinds of tricks on her eyes, casting his fluffy hair in silver in such a way that she wanted to run her fingers through it, defining his muscles more sharply to where she could hardly look away, and his face- “Lucy, it’s okay. I don’t mind taking care of you at all!” She betrayed herself by looking up at him, and he was the same as ever, giving her a big, cheeky smile, the one that made his eyes scrunch up. Whatever had been there before had disappeared. It’s just my Natsu…

When had “just Natsu” become “her Natsu”? It was too much for her to think about right then, so she abandoned herself to whatever had come over her and sank into the comfort that Natsu was.

“Okay… I guess it’s a good thing you broke into my house,” she chuckled weakly before falling back against the pillow. As he pulled the blanket back over her, she was reminded of how chilly she was, and as she shivered violently, she tried to cocoon herself in the sheet and comforter. As Natsu walked over to the window to close it, she stared at his back, a question hanging on her tongue. It jumped out before she could even decide whether she should ask it or not. “You’ll stay with me all night, right?”

“Of course!” That was her Natsu, without a second thought. His scarf fluttered as he whirled about and trotted over to sit on the edge of her bed, cross-legged and framed by the white moonlight. “I’m not leaving until you’re better.” Lucy’s heart swelled, with happiness and something else too, something she couldn’t identify- or was afraid of identifying. Not caring anymore about the riddle that was happening in her head, and desperate to chase away the chill that was seeping into her bones, she scooched a little closer to him in the hopes of basking herself in his warmth. She was shaking so hard now that the bed trembled along with her, and her teeth were slightly clattering together. I’m so cold… She squeezed her eyes shut as she buried herself further in the blankets, trying to conserve what little warmth she had. She knew she must have felt hot on the surface, because sweat was pouring off her so profusely that it puddled around her hair on the pillow, but it was like the drops of moisture were stealing all her heat. She felt Natsu get up, and go rifling around in her hallway closet for a few minutes, before she heard his soft footsteps coming back in and felt him draping another thick blanket over her. “Better?”

She wanted it to be, but no matter how many layers of blankets there were, it didn’t stop the warmth from leaking out of her body. It felt like she was freezing to death. The tremors wracking her body had actually increased in ferocity, and she couldn’t speak because her teeth were clattering together so hard, she thought they might break, and her breath was shaking, too. She slipped back into delirium again, this time her mind a slave to the cold. It felt like her brain was freezing, too, crystallized on one thought. Natsu… I want Natsu… Natsu’s warmth… Despite her shivering she managed to slip an arm out of her fluffy cocoon and groped around in the dark for him, though she couldn’t see him. Even her vision was filled with snowflakes, dancing in the dark and clouding her eyes like a blizzard. Suddenly she became overwhelmingly terrified that he had left.

“N-N-nat-s-su… Wh-where a-a-are y-y-you?” The words were next to impossible to get out, but she was desperate for him, her Natsu, who was always there when she needed him. Even if she wanted to think about how she felt about him then, she couldn’t, as her mind fell deeper into the icy hurricane. Natsu…!

“I’m here, Lucy.”

At once, the blizzard ceased, and Lucy felt the soothing sensation of warmth flooding back into her body. She gasped slightly as she felt something soft slipping around her neck, wqamring her further. She raised her hand to slip her rapidly thawing fingers into the fabric; it felt odd, woven of scales but yet undeniably soft and comforting. Natsu’s scarf… It was quite too big for her, and was wrapped several times around her neck and covering her mouth. It smelled like Natsu, too, and as his scent wafted up her nose she felt all kinds of things, comfort and embarrassment and happiness and all things between. She felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes, so overwhelmed that he would give her his most prized and precious possession, even if only temporarily. Her eyes fluttered open, a gratuitous remark on her tongue, but it jumped back down her throat when she realized that Natsu had crawled into the bed and was currently holding her tightly within his arms. “Natsu…”

“You did this for me once, didn’t you?” That’s right, she had, during the decisive battle with Zeref. Natsu had been so deathly cold, and she had been so frightened that he would die. Her cheeks flushed as he smiled brightly down at her. “I figured the least I could do was return the favor. Are you better now, Lucy?” Lucy was mildly distraught to be in such a situation, wrapped up in Natsu’s embrace, but he was viewing the entire thing in that innocent way of his, and besides, she sure as hell wasn’t going to go back to freezing like that.

“Mhmm. Thank you,” she sighed quietly and, admittedly wishing for more of his body heat to warm her, pressed herself a little closer to him and laid her head in the crook of his neck. Perhaps she imagined it, but she felt like Natsu stiffened up a little then. She felt his hand twitch, and then slowly slide his fingers to the back of her head to gently caress the tangled, blonde tresses. Silence descended, and the soft rhythm of Natsu’s breathing and the gentle comfort of his warmth and the repeated touch of his fingertips through her hair soon lulled Lucy back into a drowsy state. As her eyelids were drooping and her consciousness once more fading, he spoke up.

“Hey, Lucy?”

��Hmm?” He squirmed uncomfortably, and once Lucy realized that he seemed to be struggling with what he was going to say, she propped herself up so that she could look down at him. It was hard to tell with the way the moonlight was spilling across his face, but she thought she could see a pink haze across his cheeks; he was avoiding eye contact, too, looking off to the side with an uncomfortable curl to his mouth. “Natsu?” Her eyes widened as his arm tightened around her.

“Can I… hold you like this… even when you aren’t sick?” The question threw Lucy for a loop, and all she could do was stare dumbly down at him with her mouth hanging open. No, it couldn’t possibly be. Natsu? No, their relationship wasn’t like that… But yet, she thought of him as her Natsu, so really, was it so impossible that he thought of her as his Lucy? She tensed when his gaze flicked back to meet hers finally, and Lucy saw a fire burning there, but it wasn’t like the fire he normally had. It was soft, smoldering, and yet held more intensity than the burning flames that appeared in his highly emotional, battle-ready state. The flames jumped up as his hand untangled from her hair and slipped down to cup her cheek. “Heh… Your face is warm now,” he joked quietly, but he didn’t lose that oddly intense expression that was making Lucy’s heart beat like a war drum. Locked in his gaze, prisoner to that burning fire, possibly insane from her present illness, Lucy realized the undeniable truth then.

She loved Natsu.

Natsu loved her.

She found her words.

“Yes, Natsu.” They came out a whisper, shy but not hesitant. He finally smiled, that crooked, boyish smile that she loved so much. When he pulled her against him, like he wanted every inch of them to touch, she found that this time his heart was beating in a wild melody, too. His hand slid to the back of her head against, holding her gently as his eyes searched her face for a moment. This time Lucy was not afraid of what he might find.

“I love you, Lucy.”

“I love you too, Natsu,” she answered, and the sheer joy that filled her when she uttered those words was unlike anything she had ever felt. It was like she had been holding it in, desperately building a wall to contain feelings she was afraid of having, and now they had broken free to spill freely through her. Natsu smiled brightly at her again, and then he leaned forward to gently kiss her, softly but with an incredible amount of feeling. Once again Lucy felt warmth burst inside of her, this time from the unmistakable fire of love burning deep inside her heart and soul.

She was his Lucy and he was her Natsu, and nothing could ever come between them.

Except Happy, apparently.

“The cookies are doooooone~!” They sprang apart as the little cat hopped up onto the bed precariously balancing a tray of freshly baked cookies over his head. He wobbled back and forth as he tottered over the thick comforters to plop down on Lucy’s side, his little tail waving in glee. “Oh, Lucy! You look so much better! Want a cookie?” he asked and set the tray down to pick one up in his little paw and hold it out to her. Lucy couldn’t be mad, and was actually grateful he seemed oblivious to how intimate she and Natsu were just being, so she took the cookie with a small laugh.

“Thanks, Happy.” She took a bite of the cookie, then nearly choked on it when the cat inquired why they were in bed together.

“I was warming her up, Happy! Just like that time she did me, remember?” Natsu grinned and hugged her tightly, rubbing his cheek against hers. Lucy was too busy on the border of fainting from sheer mortification to pay much notice.

“Oh! I see! I wanna warm Lucy up too!” Happy laughed and plopped the cookies on the nightstand before forcing Lucy to lay back against the pillow and curling up against Lucy’s neck. “Is it working?” Red-faced, Lucy sighed deeply but reached up to pat his head affectionately.

“Yes, thank you, Happy.” The winged cat gave a joyful trill before snuggling deeper into his bed, which now consisted of Lucy’s hair. It took him all of a minute to begin snoring. Little furball, she thought, but with no shortage of affection. She looked down when she felt Natsu bury his face into her other shoulder, his mess of pink hair lost among her own blonde strands. “Hey!”

“What? If he gets to do it, why don’t I? By the way, you smell good. What kind of shampoo is this?” Lucy groaned loudly, but allowed it. She smiled as she felt Natsu smiling against her neck, and his arms wound themselves tightly around her middle; how could she not be happy, with the way things had developed? Natsu mumbled some form of “goodnight” before he drifted off too, and every soft breeze of his breath against her neck sent little tingles across her skin. Warmed from head to toe, embraced by the man she loved, and elated to even have little Happy peacefully curled up beside her head, Lucy closed her eyes with a tranquil and relieved smile.

Like this… You could keep me warm forever, you know.

“Goodnight… my Natsu.”

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[softjeon]

Head in the Clouds

• Pairing: Model!Jimin x Namjoon • Genre: fluff, with a tiny hint of angst • Words: 28,2k | written with @cassiavioletblue • Disclaimer: mentioning of anxiety, insecurities (body issues), and a lot of ‘I love you’s’ and fluffiness that could cause your heart to melt, smut/ nsfw content

↳  “Mr. Kim! How does it feel to have one of the most beautiful man..” “Here! Look here, please” “Would you like to comment on the statement of park Jimin who said…” “What does the agency think about Park Jimin dating…”

→ Sequel to ‘Mile High Valentine Club’ 

He stormed out of the building, looking left and right, ignoring the doorman’s question about if he was alright or needed something. There was a voice calling out for him, but Jimin didn’t listen - instead he smiled, running ahead, raising his hand to call for a taxi. To his luck one came to a halt right in front of him only a few seconds later.

“Downtown please,” He said, noticing how the driver shivered when the cold wind rushed into the car the moment he opened the door. Jimin smiled apologetically, even though the other couldn’t see it being hidden behind a mask. He quickly told the driver the exact address before sitting back, he could still see Jin waving at him, pointing at his watch as if to tell him to ‘fucking be on time or else I kill you’ before he just finally let the city pass him by. The smile stayed on his lips and even though it had nothing to do with the driver anymore, nor did he care that nobody could see, it made him feel warm, cozy and loved.

Everything that Namjoon meant to him.

Jimin paid the driver and tipped him well before he got out of the car, standing in awe in front of the skyscraper in front of him, it’s glass windows reflecting the sun. Jimin took off the bucket hat that made sure he kept himself hidden from others even more and closed his eyes letting it warm up his cheeks. He had never been here before and all though Namjoon told him many times to come and visit him at lunch break, Jimin had figured it was more of a joke than him really suggesting to come by. It was his work place after all. And they weren’t really official - at least not yet in the public eye. They had been dating for a little while now and it was everything Jimin hoped it would be. Who would have thought a hook up in a plane could lead to this? He giggled softly to himself at the fond memory and fished out his phone to look at the last message from Namjoon.

I miss you.

Three simple words that made Jimin feel so good and he knew he needed to see him. Right now.

…

“I hate spring,” Yoongi said sneezing, followed by a groan as he sleepily reached for his coffee and rubbed his eyes. He only barely heard the chuckle and comment coming from his best friend, when he opened his eyes again. Yoongi blinked a few times, stars shining everywhere from how hard he had rubbed them when he noticed someone walking right up to their desk. For a moment he stiffened up thinking it was their boss wanting to check up on their presentation that Namjoon was constantly talking about - which he didn’t listen to because the one strutting their way over to them was... an angel. Yoongi was sure of that. The way the young man stroked his hand through his blonde hair (definitely bleached; Yoongi could see that, too) and his sparkly eyes looking around to search for someone...something...or...them?

The smile on the young man’s lip faltered for a second when someone bumped into him and he bend over to help gather the sheets that had fallen onto the floor (Yoongi wondered if anyone else was seeing this in slow motion or if it was his medication for his allergies making him see all of this). Rubbing his eyes again, Yoongi shook his head. “Fuck me, I’d definitely wouldn’t say no to that ass,” He mumbled and as soon as his best friend picked up on what he said, he nodded over his shoulder, “He’s more than just fuckable. I’d do things to him; you don’t even want to know.” He groaned, “You see that waist? Those lips? I think, I believe in angels now.”

Namjoon laughed because you usually didn’t hear Min Yoongi complimenting someone effusively like that, so he turned his head to see who the guy was who had swept Yoongi off his feet like that. His smile froze in place when he saw that it was Jimin, his Jimin, standing in the middle of the office, apparently completely unaware of the kind of attention he was drawing to himself. He was looking around and when he saw him his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Namjoon!”

You couldn’t hear him say it because there was still a glass door between their desks and the entrance room, but it was easy to read his name from Jimin’s lips. He had kissed it from those heavenly plush lips way too often not to know what it meant. His eyes entirely fixated on him, Jimin opened the door and came right over to his desk, making Yoongi draw in a sharp startled breath.

“Namjoon! I missed you too!” Completely unaware that open display of affection wasn’t something you usually did in an office Jimin wrapped his arms around him and kissed him right on the mouth. “I couldn’t way to see you, so I came in my lunch break! I hope you didn’t have yours already. I’ll promise you it will be so much better with me around…” He chuckled before noticing the way Yoongi was staring at him. Instead of getting embarrassed or shy he gave him a bright smile and reached out his hand, all while still sitting on Namjoon’s lap.

“Hello, I’m Jimin. Nice to meet you.”

Yoongi took his hand and mumbled something that could be his name, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. Namjoon cleared his throat before turning towards Jimin. “If you want you can go into the office kitchen, I can make you a coffee there if you want. I’ll just wrap things up and will be there too in a minute. Jimin happily agreed and only when the younger had made his way over did Namjoon speak again. “As he is basically the most stunning person on earth I won’t hold it against you what you said earlier. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk about my boyfriend in front of me like that again.” Yoongi just nodded, mute from what he had to process right now. “Maybe I can ask Jimin if he has a friend that would like to go out with pale, tired office workers.” For that he was rightfully flipped off. While he got up to meet with Jimin a smirk stole its way on Namjoon’s face. “Also don’t think I would ever forget that you actually blushed when Jimin introduced himself.” Then he walked away quickly before Yoongi could murder him for the sake of his reputation.

Jimin walked ahead and into the kitchen niche of the office, smiling at the obviously confused people which only some of them slowly recognized who he was. They stared either wide eyed, their gazes flickering between the magazine they were reading in their lunch break back over to Jimin and then to Namjoon who was definitely somehow involved into this as he put his arm around the youngers waist. They would definitely have something to talk about now for their office gossip. Jimin smiled, taking the coffee that his boyfriend offered. “I’m sorry I barged in like that, but I had some time and you always said I should come and visit so you can show me where you work and all,” Jimin said and took a sip of the hot beverage, “And I needed to see you.”

Jimin should have probably not kissed Namjoon out in his office like that, but he hadn’t cared at all. He loved him. He wanted to share his love but at the same time there were a few more things that were making this all a little more difficult. The paparazzi and media. Jin knew about their relationship, still they had decided to keep it all private because both didn’t want to talk about what it could mean to be open about it in the public eye, yet and Jimin actually didn’t tell Namjoon much about it. He was scared that it would frighten him, push him away from Jimin and he didn’t want to lose him. For the first time in a long time Jimin felt loved and safe with someone again and he didn’t want to risk it in any way.

Just like they had promised in New York, Namjoon had asked Jimin out on a proper date as soon as they were back in Seoul - even though it was already perfectly clear that both were head over heels in love. The other thing that was pretty clear from the start was, that this relationship wasn’t going to be a normal one. With Jimin being a known model, Namjoon had to come to his apartment for their first date. And for any kind of other visits. Because here there was a security guard 24/7 down at the door where Namjoon was lead through the back door by Jin the first time, who had cooked for them both as a little ‘apology’ as he didn’t want them to go out to a restaurant where the media was only waiting to jump out on them. Nonetheless, Jimin thought it was one of the best dates he ever had and therefore it didn’t take long, after just a few more dates, for Namjoon to ask if he wanted to be his boyfriend. Of course, they had some more talk about media and how it was better for them to keep their relationship unofficial for as long as possible but Jimin tried to avoid it as much as he could to not scare Namjoon off. He wouldn’t be the first to not be able to handle it and Jimin rather wanted to cuddle with him and fall asleep in his arms than talk about potential reasons why Namjoon should not be with him.

The second hurdle was the distance and their busy lives. If it was Jimin’s decision he would want to have Namjoon around him every day and night. But unfortunately, that wasn’t how life worked. Instead it made it even harder for them to meet up, or to stay over. It was easier to take the train near Namjoon’s own apartment, then drive all the way from the upper side to downtown every morning. And on the weekends, Jimin had a lot of photoshoots. It wasn’t as easy as Jimin wished it would be and the nights were still lonely sometimes. Each time, Namjoon kissed him goodbye to leave him behind in his - suddenly very empty - loft, Jimin just wanted to cry and even though he had been tired before and maybe already had been drifting off to sleep, the moment Namjoon was gone, he was wide awake again. And now it had been a few days since Jimin had last seen Namjoon, since he had to prepare a presentation for work with Yoongi - who didn’t know anything about their relationship until today. It was exhausting. But it was very rewarding the moment Jimin looked up at into Namjoon’s eyes and saw the warmth and love in them, or in the way the other held him close to his body and told him all about his day. Namjoon was perfect to him and Jimin never wanted to let him go. No matter how hard it was.

Jimin’s hand caressed over the wooden table, letting his gaze wander around the office that his boyfriend called his own. It was even hotter than Jimin would have thought to see Namjoon walking around his office in his tailored suit. He placed his cup of coffee aside and easily pushed himself up on the desk to look at Namjoon. “I have about...twenty minutes,” Jimin cocked his head to the side with a flirtatious smile on his lips, “Kiss me.”

“Someone’s demanding today!” Namjoon laughed but complied easily. It wasn’t as if he needed to be told twice when he had the opportunity to kiss Jimin and hold him close while way too often for his liking he just got texts or maybe a video talk instead of “real” contact.

“I’m just going to hide the clock,” He mumbled poutily after a few minutes of kissing, “Cause if you can’t see the time you don’t know when you’ve got to go which means you’ll have to stay forever with me!” He hadn’t been overly emotional with partners before, getting shy and embarrassed easily but Jimin drew it out of him, the longing, the emotional connection, everything that he was feeling when the other was around. “Or I could just kidnap you while your bodyguard is not around for a weekend off. Just lazily lounging around in bed, I’ll make you blueberry waffles and the best coffee you’ve ever had…” It was easy to dream with such a beautiful person by his side.

“Joonie,” The nickname slipped past his lips easily and in between kisses softly, “I’d love that…you know I want to stay forever with you…but Jin was already angry at me for sneaking out in between shoots. I wasn’t really allowed to.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, while with the other he fumbled around with Namjoon’s suit jacket. Jimin stole a few more kisses, before he whispered, “It’s still enough time for me to sneak under the desk if you want me to.” He bit onto his lip, his hands wandering up Namjoon’s chest in a daring gesture.

Namjoon almost choked on his own breath. He still needed to get used to how sweetly and without warning Jimin could switch to dirty talk. “That’s... a lovely offer and I’d like to take a rain check on that but right now I’d rather be able to see your face for the little time that you still have in your forbidden-sneaking-out-break.” He gently placed a kiss on Jimin’s cheekbone. “Why, do you need some opportunity to blow off steam in return? Were they annoying at the shooting? What is it about? Did they have you sit in make up for three hours again to turn you into some crazy fantasy bird?” Jimin had pouted all evening because there had been glitter and feathers everywhere and he found that he looked like a plucked chicken.

“No, it’s nothing, Joonie.” Jimin put his arms around Namjoon’s waist and pulled him a bit closer so he could lean onto him. “I didn’t give my best today, that’s all. They noticed,” Jimin shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to talk about anything else. He was tired, exhausted and he definitely didn’t want to go back soon. Looking up at Namjoon, Jimin pursed his lips, “Did you finish your presentation?” Jimin didn’t want to ask directly if Namjoon wanted to come by, as he felt like he was already clinging too much and if he didn’t give him the space he needed that he would get enough off him soon.

Namjoon sympathetically hugged Jimin closer. He had found out pretty soon that he couldn’t convince Jimin that ‘not doing his best’ in Jimin’s eyes was still ‘absolutely awesome’ in Namjoon’s eyes - and that Jimin didn’t have to constantly be his absolute best to be worthy of admiration and love. The only thing that really helped Jimin was lots of (physical) reassurance and just trying to be there for him.

He quickly went with the topic chance, noticing how talking about the shooting made the younger uncomfortable. “Not yet - but we’ll definitely have it finished by tonight. Which means I can end my shift at a normal time and maybe come visit you if you like.”

Jimin smile turned brighter as he hugged Namjoon once more. “Please do, I miss you so much. I’ll pay the cab for you.” The younger mumbled happily into his embrace, before the vibrating of his phone in the back of his pocket made him jerk up. “Oh fuck,” He cursed loudly, waving the phone in the air and jumped up from the seat. Standing on his tiptoes Jimin placed a quick kiss on Namjoon’s lips before he ran out of his office already, waving him one last time when he stood at the elevators.

“So,” Yoongi cleared his throat as he sneaked up right behind Namjoon whose eyes were glued on Jimin, “When were you going to tell me about you dating a fucking supermodel?”

Somehow Namjoon managed to avoid Yoongi questioning him about every little detail of his relationship with Jimin and they also finished the presentation which meant he could definitely be proud of himself tonight. It took a little time to get to Jimin so Namjoon tried to get out of the working-headspace and into the relaxed and content state where he could concentrate on Jimin and nothing else. The younger was like an island of bliss in his mundane everyday world and he couldn’t get enough of being there. Sometimes he wished the day had more hours just so that he could spent them with Jimin.

Jimin opened Namjoon in nothing but a silk bathrobe and a mischievous smile on his face. Namjoon’s words got stuck in his throat by the view, mumbling a ‘Hey’ against Jimin’s lips when the younger kissed him. “I made you some food, but I was so hungry, and I couldn’t wait any longer, so I already finished mine.” Jimin said as he pulled Namjoon into his living room and sat down on the floor while he let his boyfriend get comfortable. Pouring in some wine, Jimin took a sip from it, before he offered it to Namjoon. It was a warm and appreciated welcome and the food looked gorgeous. It was exactly what Namjoon needed after a long day of work. Although he wasn’t a fan of eating alone what made him hesitate was Jimin saying he’d already eaten. Of course, Namjoon didn’t really know how the model world was ticking but he had noticed a few little things here and there so he carefully asked, “Me eating alone… is not because you feel like you didn’t give your best at the shooting tonight… is it?”

Jimin shook his head and pushed the plate over to Namjoon. “It’s not, …so please eat up,” He smiled and watched Namjoon hungrily dive into the food and only when the other was almost done Jimin got up from the couch next to him. It was in the middle of a conversation, Namjoon telling Jimin something about the analytics of…whatever – Jimin didn’t really get this whole economics talk anyways, when he stopped at the door frame and let his bathrobe slip down his body. Just like that.

There had been no warning. Nothing.

Only a smirk securely placed on Jimin’s lips that Namjoon couldn’t see while his back was turned towards him. “Don’t let me wait for too long.”

Jimin got him every time. Namjoon should be used to how stunning he looked when he was naked or sending him that smirk, all confident and cocky and knowing damn well that it messed with Namjoon’s head. And that Namjoon would do exactly as Jimin was asking because he was wrapped around his little finger anyways.

When Namjoon came into the bathroom Jimin was already in the water, splayed out like a painting of a young Greek god, eyes closed, that damn smirk still on his lips. Namjoon had hurriedly placed the plate into the sink in the kitchen and then came right after.

The bathroom looked stunning, with candles lit and a soft lavender smell in the air so Jimin must have prepared this before Namjoon had even got there. Jimin’s bathtub had enough room for more than two people, but still the moment Namjoon shed all of his clothes and was in the water with him, Jimin was all over him. He was placing a soft kiss on his chest, then his neck that he bared so beautifully when the relaxation settled into his body. Jimin couldn’t help but let his hands wander over Namjoon’s shoulders and chest.

“I missed you so much. I know I sound whiny when I say it so much,” Jimin mumbled and settled in between Namjoon’s thighs to lean back against him and wrap his arm around him. Reaching for the manual, Jimin pushed one button that turned off most of the lights and the ones of his bathtub on and then another to activate the light massage function for Namjoon. The immediate moan that slipped from his lips had Jimin giggling as the bubbles stirred up the water around them.

“You know I miss you just as much. I can’t help it, when I’m not around you you’re on my mind nonetheless so I’m basically thinking about you 24/7. And I like hearing you say it. Because then I know I’m not the only one - besides being told lovely little things by a stupidly attractive man boosts my confidence.” He joked and then broke off when the massage function was activated. He had always laughed about people who needed luxury stuff but now that he had truly gotten a taste he had to admit that some of it was truly making life easier.

“They told Jin that I gained weight,” Jimin mumbled quietly as he kissed up and down Namjoon’s arm, “He didn’t want to tell me, but I overheard it at the meeting a few days before the photoshoot. And today, they said that I lost too much weight…because the pants didn’t fit tightly around my bottom. And I didn’t even really lose weight or gained some…I’m…I don’t know what I am doing wrong sometimes.” Jimin sighed and held on tightly to Namjoon’s arm, before he slowly turned around in his embrace. Kissing up his shoulders and neck, Jimin placed soft kisses along his jaw line. “You still like it, right?” Jimin asked and blinked up at Namjoon, “My bottom, I mean….”

It showed a great deal of trust that Jimin opened up to what was bothering him without Namjoon having to gently nudge him to do so. Namjoon instinctively wrapped his arms around Jimin’s frame as if to shield him from any more hurtful comments from stupid people. “Of course, I do, baby. I like absolutely everything about you, including your backside.” He reassuringly kissed Jimin’s shoulder, feeling a painful stab in the heart at the thought of those people making Jimin so insecure that he would question if Namjoon still found him attractive. “I like you exactly as you are. However, I want you to know that if you ever choose to gain or lose weight then I’ll still love you just the same, because although I tell you that I love your body a lot I’ll always love the person that you are inside above anything else. And that won’t change with your looks.” He hesitated before adding, “Although I have to admit that you’d have me seriously worried if you would lose more weight. Not because of your appearance but because of your health. You are already thin, and your body needs a certain kind of weight to keep functioning properly. Though as long as you are healthy and happy with your body you can look however you want to me - you won’t  get rid of me.” He cuddled into Jimin’s neck until the other squealed from how many kisses he got.

Namjoon always had a way of making him feel better again, whether it was through his words or with the way he was holding him. With the way Namjoon had pulled him in closer, Jimin could feel every bit of skin of his beneath him, his hands that playfully tried to stop Namjoon from kissing him everywhere before, were roaming his body now, the kisses turning a little more heated.

“I love you, Joonie,” Jimin whispered, his lips only inches apart from his, “Stay with me, please. I don’t want you to go again…will you stay with me?” The younger was pressed tightly against Namjoon as he sat on his lap, the bubbles around them effectively hiding whatever was happening underneath the water, but Namjoon felt it nonetheless when Jimin sneaked his hand down and in between them.

His answer was stuck in his throat when Jimin touched him, only coming out as a breathless, surprised gasp. Leave it to Jimin to turn from sweet to seductive in 0,1 seconds. He couldn’t help but react to the touch, cause having Jimin’s naked form in his arms didn’t exactly leave him cold. “Only if you let me worship you tonight...” He whispered when he had found his breath again, gently biting the skin of Jimin’s neck, knowing that it would send a thrill through Jimin because he was supposed to stay hickey free so everything that got a little rougher than kisses on his neck meant playing with fire. “Let me get your mind off everything but me. I want to be the only thing you see and feel when I’m inside you. How does that sound?” He breathed his velvety words against the shell of Jimin’s ear, feeling him shiver with it.

It was everything Jimin wanted anyways, to only have Namjoon be the only thing he saw and feel. No anxiety, no bad thoughts. Only Namjoon. Because he meant safety and love.

It was so easy for him to tease Jimin, his hands sliding down his back and to his bottom cupping it and pushing his waist against his own. Jimin was gone the moment, he could feel Namjoon rubbing against his entrance and he leaned onto him, holding onto him tightly as he placed soft kisses on his neck. “Nam…,” Jimin gasped when he pushed in carefully, a whine leaving his lips, while Namjoon smirked knowingly. It was easy to work Jimin up, to make him breathless and panting in a matter of moments while jerking him off and teasing his entrance. Jimin pushed himself back on Namjoon’s digits, leaving soft, sloppy kisses all over his soft, wet skin until he could feel the pleasure rippling through him, the soft words Namjoon spoke to him relaxing him making him want to fall into his arms and only exist in his embrace. When he came, without a warning and shuddering in Namjoon’s hold, Jimin felt fully spend and soft. The tiredness from the past days that had been so stressful was washing over him quickly and Jimin pursed his lips cutely as he felt Namjoon wrap his arms around him a little tighter.

He followed the other, when he got out of the bathtub, helping Jimin in the process to not slip. He easily lifted the younger after he dried Jimin up, who was clinging onto him and let himself fall onto the bed soon after. It made Namjoon smile softly, when Jimin still turned to look at him with a sulky smirk. “You hopefully didn’t prep me and make me come for nothing,” He mumbled and got up on the bed to crawl over to his bedside table. He got out the lube and a condom to give it to Namjoon. He pushed his ass back for Namjoon to see, propping himself up on all fours and leaning down his head on the cushion, giving Namjoon the perfect view of what belonged to him.

As sexy as the view was Namjoon had to laugh. “Prep you for nothing? And here I was thinking you could be satisfied by a nice, slow orgasm.” Of course, he was teasing because now that Jimin offered himself up like this there was no way he would decline. However, he didn’t have a problem with only caring for Jimin sometime. The younger definitely had a higher sex drive than him - but he always turned him on so quickly, seducing him right into a state of burning desire that it wasn’t really that obvious. While he waited for the lube to warm up a little between his fingers he admired the view, stroking over Jimin’s back and over his hips to the back of his thighs. “Sometimes I wish I could share just how beautiful you look like this - but then I get possessive and want to be greedy and selfish and keep you all for myself.”

Jimin blinked at Namjoon wanting to say something but the moment he opened his mouth, Namjoon pushed his fingers inside of him, stretching and preparing Jimin some more. “I’d never want to be anyone else’s,” Jimin mumbled into the cushion, pushing back onto his fingers. Since Namjoon had made Jimin come in the bathtub only minutes before, he didn’t need to prep the younger one up for long, before he could finally thrust into him, pulling Jimin’s ass right onto his hips. Jimin was still sensitive and Namjoon loved it, the way he shuddered when he thrusted inside of him just right or the breathe little whimpers he drew out of his boyfriend whenever he pulled out slow, so very slow, just to push back in quick and hard. Jimin always reacted so beautifully to him and everything that he was doing to him, he sometimes wondered if Jimin trusted him so much that he didn’t even think of hiding anything away - or if he was so completely overwhelmed that he couldn’t help it. Both thoughts were something he enjoyed.

When Namjoon came with a loud growl, Jimin just fell onto his stomach completely exhausted. He whined quietly, when his boyfriend pulled out and tied off the condom. Jimin pulled the cushion a little closer as he felt the tiredness settle in fast. Namjoon had completely worn him out – once again – and Jimin wasn’t even able to open his eyes properly anymore. Nonetheless, Jimin could feel it when Namjoon was by his side, lifting him up a little so he could place the blanket over him. “M’hno, don’t move,” Jimin mumbled, putting his arm around his boyfriend neck to keep him close, “Jus’ sleep now.”

“I couldn’t move even if I wanted to,” Namjoon answered with a smirk, his words pretty much lost to Jimin who always turned to putty after his second (or third) orgasm. “‘Cause you hold onto me like a cuddly octopus. But you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?” Jimin sleepily nodded, having no clue what Namjoon was talking about and so Namjoon just smiled fondly, gave the younger a kiss on the nose and tucked both of them in properly. Hopefully they wouldn’t regret it tomorrow morning; falling asleep like this…

Namjoon was Jimin’s safe haven.

His arms protecting him whenever the anxiety was fueling him, making him feel like everything was a little bit too loud and too much. He was the one who could tire him out completely, where Jimin could feel sated and sleep without any recurring nightmares.

Only when he was away for too long and he called the other late at night, sometimes crying, sometimes not even saying a word before Namjoon already talked to him. His voice calming him more than anything else. On other days, Jimin didn’t, too scared that Namjoon would get annoyed with him, so he rather fell asleep crying or not at all. Nonetheless, he wished he could take him anywhere where he was, but unfortunately life wasn’t always a bowl of cherries.

…

“How is your sleeping schedule?” Jin pushed up his sunglasses as he backed out of the parking lot at the airport. “Fucked up,” Jimin answered as he stared out of the tinted window, “One week without him and I’m back to zero.” As if it was on command, Jimin yawned, “But fashion week was good, nonetheless. I think I did well, even though it’s always stressful.” His manager nodded at that, before he went on about the next weeks schedule leaving Jimin no time to rest and get the proper sleep he needed. Jimin really tried to pay attention but he dozed off in the car a couple of times, jerking awake when there was a bump, Jin scolding him or just him singing to the radio a bit too loudly. He couldn’t wait to be with Namjoon tonight again.

Although Namjoon had known that having a model boyfriend wasn’t always pure happiness it still sucked to feel like advertising some crazy fancy clothes was more important than him. He understood what it meant for Jimin to do this because he drew his self-worth and his sense of importance from it, but it also made Namjoon worry a lot. Before knowing Jimin he had just ignored the trends and craziness that could be the fashion world but now every documentation on TV or new “scandal” in the magazines made him think about if Jimin was alright and how it might be in six or ten years when Jimin was older and the fashion industry demanded a new face. His best attempt in trying not to worry too much was burying himself in work. Which was why his schedule was completely clogged when Jimin came back a day earlier than planned.

“Can’t you stay?” Jimin held on a little tighter to Namjoon who was trying to get up from the bed again after his little visit, “Please, Joonie. I can call you a cab first thing in the morning again. I’ll pay for it.” He leaned in to kiss Namjoon’s shoulder sweetly, pursing his lips into a cute pout.

Namjoon shook his head and carefully plucked Jimin’s hand away from his arm. “I’m sorry, Jimin I can’t. I’ve got this meeting tomorrow, first thing in the morning and I’d like to revise in my office again before it starts so I don’t really want to have that plus the long drove from your apartment even if I’m not driving myself. Besides, I need my car so I can’t really leave it here. We can see each other in your next break, can’t we? I’m tired and should really get some sleep to be well rested tomorrow.”

Jimin got up from the edge of the bed and followed Namjoon down the hallway. “But I’m tired, too and you know I can’t sleep without you,” Jimin whined, his exhaustion making him a little more emotional than he intended to be, “I’m only home late tomorrow…I just want to be with you, please.” He reached for Namjoon’s arm as the other got his shoes and jacket, “I can tell Jin to drive your car to work for you. Or I can call my driver if you want. I can…”

Namjoon continued to get dressed to leave. “Jimin, please. Not tonight. You know I’d stay with you if I could. I just don’t want to mess up tomorrow and I’m not as good as you are when I’m running on too little sleep. I’m not used to it. And as nice as it is to sleep in the same bed with you it doesn’t always mean that I can sleep well. I really need to go home, Jimin.”

The younger couldn’t hide the moment he felt the stab when Namjoon told him that he was basically not sleeping well next to him. That he was better off when he was without him. He gasped quietly.

“Y-you don’t mean that,” Jimin shook his head, “You can’t sleep when you’re with me?” He bit his lip, to keep the emotions in check but the burning sensation behind his eyes told him that Jimin was already close to crying. He averted his gaze and nodded. Slowly, he let go off Namjoon and took a step back, even though everything in him was screaming to hold on a little tighter to him. “I didn’t say that. I just said that there's no guarantee that I can sleep well. Sometimes it gets too hot with the two of us under one cover or you keep turning. Please, let’s not make a big deal out of this, I just need to sleep at mine tonight, we can be together next time. Isn’t that enough?”

Jimin was fumbling around with his shirt, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. “A big deal,” Jimin shook his head and blinked up to keep the tears from falling, “When you’re telling me you can’t sleep well next to me...you think it’s not a big deal? You know I have nightmares; I can’t just stop the turning. I get scared at night. You know that…it’s not fair. I’m not allowed to come to you, you know that...” He wiped over his cheek angrily, “I am sorry I am burdensome. I didn’t know…that it was annoying you so much.” Jimin got up on his tiptoes to kiss Namjoon on his cheek. “Yeah, it’s enough…of course, it is enough,” He mumbled quietly and smiled rather sadly.

Namjoon furrowed his brows. “You’re doing it again. Being overdramatic while trying to guilt me into staying. I have a life too, Jimin. Is it really so much to ask to sleep in my own apartment? Now I’m the “bad one” for leaving you here all alone but can’t you see that I have things that are important to me as well? And that meeting is.”

They were both too emotional and exhausted to stay rational.

Jimin couldn’t handle this right now. The tears were falling on his own as he listened to Namjoon. “I’m not guilt tripping you!” Jimin said angrily, “You know I would never and if you want to go…just go!” His bottom lip trembled as he watched his boyfriend, “Just go, please. You have important things. I have important things. We can talk about this…sometime else.”

With all this tension between them and the unspoken words lingering that spoke of trouble and hurt and messing up Namjoon didn’t think for a moment and so instead of using the back door like he should he just did what Jimin had asked him to.

He opened the front door and went outside - stumbling right upon a paparazzi waiting to question Jimin about his participation in the fashion week and to have him answer to the newest gossip. Namjoon froze but he couldn’t just turn back and open the door with the key he had to retreat because this would give the paparazzo way, way more information than he should have so he just ran past him as quickly as he could hoping that he would think of him being some stylist or model coach or even cousin of Jimin’s - everything but the truth because the last thing he wanted was being involved in some tabloid front page gossip.

Jimin cried himself to sleep that night. He had finally taken a step too far, annoying Namjoon completely who rightfully had his own shit to do. Jimin was a burden, he knew that – many people had told him before: boyfriends, casting agents, family and friends. He would have never thought that he would be annoying Namjoon so quickly though. The past couple of months had been the best he ever had and Jimin finally opened up, piece by piece only to shut himself up like a clam again.

Taehyung had found Jimin drowning in his own tears on the couch and only after a while did he let his best friend pull him into a hug and soothe him. “You need to talk to him,” Taehyung soothed over his hair and Jimin hiccupped in response. “About everything, honestly. Your happy lovey-dovey honeymoon phase is over now. You want to work on this relationship, right? Namjoon is more than just your personal cuddler.” Jimin nodded in response and looked up at his friend, “Then you’ve got to work on it, starting with your schedules and what you guys need. You’re both too scared to not hurt the other. It won’t get you far.”

“Will you help me?” Jimin asked softly and Taehyung kissed the top of his head in response, “Of course I will.” It was already late at night, when Jimin finally calmed down enough to crawl into his own bed. He ignored his unpacked suitcases and the tears on his cheeks. He just wanted to go to Namjoon tomorrow and apologize and if it wasn’t already so late and Jimin would be so exhausted he would have done it right now.

…

Coming back home with the knowledge that something wasn’t right between him and Jimin had of course let him sleep worse than anything else. So Namjoon was tired and irritable and work the next day didn’t go as planned either. All he wanted to do was to go home and forget the world and he only stayed and went through with everything because Yoongi threatened to hack into his computer and put compromising stuff on it if he wouldn’t ‘get his shit together right now’ and stopped ‘moping like a lovesick teenager after their first relationship fight’.

Unfortunately, his day was about to become even worse than it already was.

The appearance of Namjoon coming out of Jimin’s apartment last night hadn’t stayed unnoticed. The paparazzi who saw him, had taken a picture of him surreptitiously as he ran away quickly. He showed it to his boss, who was up on his computer in a matter of seconds opening up an email from an anonymous insider, who had written them about Jimin being seen at some CEO’s building a few weeks ago. Back then it hadn’t made any sense and therefore they didn’t follow it thoroughly (because it still could have been a lawyer of his or anything else). But now that they compared the descriptions, they knew. A smirk stole it’s way on the man’s lips. “Park Jimin dating an office worker from downtown or just Park Jimin dating lower class?” He asked, waving his hands around as he came up with a few more headlines, “I should start writing the article right now. Get me the pictures as soon as you can. It’s been a while since we had something on Park Jimin.” It only took half an hour for a bunch of media representatives and paparazzi to station themselves in front of the office building.

They were waiting.

Ready to hunt down the next sensation.

Namjoon didn’t pay the people standing there any attention; it was a big company there were always people around. He was looking for his car key in the depth of his bag while continuing to walk, thinking about nothing except how he would get home, take a hot shower and then pull the covers over his head when suddenly there was a flash of light, then another - and then all hell broke loose.

“Mr. Kim! How does it feel to have one of the most beautiful man.-.”

“Here! Look here, please.”

“Would you like to comment on the statement of park Jimin who said…”

“What does the agency think about Park Jimin dating…”

It was too much, too out of a sudden and Namjoon just blacked out of a sudden, getting so distracted that he walked against the lantern post in front of him while staring into the blinding flurry of camera flashes, his bag flying out of his hand with his stuff tumbling out and onto the street. It only made the chaos worse.

There was a pair of hands grabbing his arms, the flashing lights making it so much harder for him to see. He could hear them stomp on his stuff, papers being torn and ripped while the screaming questions only got louder.

“Is it true that you keep the relationship hidden?”

“Kim Namjoon! For how long are you dating now? Look here, Mr. Kim!”

“Is it true that it had been an affair?”

“Could you smile please?”

Namjoon felt a pull and then he was on his feet again. “Get out of the way…god damn it,” Yoongi cursed as he gripped his best friend a little tighter, leading him out of the crowd and back into the building. The flashing lights weren’t stopping up until they were rounding the corner and Yoongi pushed Namjoon down onto a chair. “Fuck! What was that?”

“I.. I don’t know. I lost my bag.” Namjoon blinked, trying to see clearly and get rid of the black and red dots that were still dancing in front of his eyes. “My key’s in there.” Somehow it felt safer to not think about what had just happened but rather concentrate on a problem that he could solve. “How can I…” He broke off when Yoongi placed the bag onto his lap, the things it had held just quickly stuffed inside in a hurry, with dirty, ripped paper and wet spots were someone must have spilled his water. “Thank you.” He blinked owlishly. Not sure what to do now that the problem was solved. “Do you... you think it was Jimin because we had a fight, and this is his way of showing me how difficult his life is?” He felt bad just saying it but how else could they have found him? He wasn’t exactly a known person.

Yoongi shook his head and turned to the community fridge to get out a bag of peas and pushed it upon the bruise that was forming on Namjoon’s forehead. When the other hissed, he just mumbled an apology before he added, “I don’t think so. I never thought of him as petty…I mean…I don’t really know him, but I got curious after I knew about your relationship.” He shrugged his shoulders, blushing a little, “Do you think he would really do this? Could there be something else…could they have seen you around him? You said your dates had only been at his apartment right?”

“Yes, but we always.. I mean there was someone last time when I accidentally went out the front door, but... I ran past him and he could have taken one picture at most. How would that get him my working place? How would they know when I’m working? Why... would they even care?” Namjoon was completely out of his depth. He was good with people - but not with a large crowd of them, ignoring everything from ‘personal space’ to ‘privacy’, screaming at him, asking him stupid question or things that they had no right asking. How on earth could Jimin do that without yelling at them to show some decency and leave him the fuck alone? He groaned in misery as his forehead started to pulse painfully.

“I don’t know. Maybe someone saw Jimin when he came by a few weeks ago? You know how the media works…” Yoongi sighed and turned to look out of the window to see one paparazzi sneaking around the bushes of the office building, trying to get an insight look. “Either way…we need to get you out of here without those guys following us…preferably right now,” He rubbed his hands together, thinking hard for a moment, “Just go through the back door and down the little alley with the trash containers. I’ll come and get you there!” Yoongi nodded determinately and patted Namjoon on his shoulder reassuringly.

“The trash containers. Sure. There are some stupid people outside who are violating my privacy and who are blocking the way and endangering way to many people - and the only solution is to sneak out the back door through the trash can alley like I am the one who did something wrong…” He continued to mumble angrily while he got up, when when Yoongi was already gone (because the other hadn’t really listened to his whining anyway). It always got to him when he felt helpless. And right now, he felt exactly like that.

It was easier than Yoongi would have thought, still he felt nervous and he was sweating when he waited at the other side of the office building for Namjoon to jump into his car. He could see from afar that he was still angrily mumbling to himself and it made Yoongi chuckle, despite the nerve-wracking situation. “So, I guess, you’re famous now…,” Yoongi laughed and drove off, taking the route to the upper east side of town. He looked over to Namjoon for a second as they stopped at a red light. “I think you guys need to talk,” Yoongi pushed down the gas pedal again before he added nonchalantly, “And I can’t endure you whining a day longer about whatever your fight was about. So, what’s his address?”

“Yeah, famous for running into a lamp post.” Namjoon sighted. “You sure you don’t just want to drive me to his to ogle him again?” Of course, he didn’t think that for real though his bad mood had made him unpleasant. “You’re right though. I should tell him that they know, who knows maybe that even means he breached his contract. Jin knew of us but I’m not sure if it was an official or unofficial thing. Aren’t models and stars supposed to be “free” so they seem more available to the public - even though it’s completely fucked up that they have to sacrifice their private life just to make money of some people who are only interested in a celebrity if they can see a chance of their absolutely unrealistic expectations being fulfilled?” He took Jimin’s card out of his wallet and gave it to Yoongi. “There - let’s see if me make it without making you famous as well. I could see you as ‘mysterious man trying to pinch poor hardworking Park Jimin’s possible boyfriend’ or, wait, even better how about ‘Park Jimin’s boyfriend is trying to pass as office worker - but his colleague turned out to be his chauffeur and has a death stare that can only mean he’s trained as a lethal bodyguard so he might as well be royalty.’” His sarcasm tasted bitter on his tongue.

“Stop talking nonsense, but you definitely owe me one for this.” Yoongi raked a hand through his hair, trying to seem as laid back after they parked the car. He followed Namjoon, who seemed to get more and more nervous the closer they got to the back door of Jimin’s apartment building. “That best friend of Jimin’s. He’s quite hot.” He smirked, not really waiting for an answer when the guard opened the door with a chuckle.

Namjoon barely had time to send him a glare before he had a phone held in his face.

“Oh, boy, you fucked up!” He greeted Namjoon and waved his phone screen in front of his face. Yoongi took it from him and pursed his lips a little, “At least you look good here.” He scrolled down further and contorted his face, “Oh…well, hey. Look on the bright side. They got that you’re clumsy already. Nothing to be ashamed of from now on.” Yoongi smiled and gave the phone back to the man, patting Namjoon reassuringly on his back. “It’s going to be alright. Jimin is good with the media and he doesn’t give a fuck about what they say…right?”

Namjoon seemed too pale out of a sudden, gulping heavily. “Right?” Yoongi asked again, his gaze flickering back and forth between the door guard and Namjoon.

…

Jimin sat at his kitchen table, pushing the food around on his table. His eyes were still puffy and red and even though he had been exhausted, Jimin hadn’t gotten much sleep. Just when Taehyung shuffled out of the guest bedroom, his eyes lit up a little more – happy that he wouldn’t be all too alone today. Taehyung had been sleeping almost all day and it was late afternoon now, when he grabbed the plate from Jimin and began eating. “Namjoon hasn’t written me all day and I’m scared to. What if he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore?” Jimin hid his face in the palm of his hands, “Do you think I should send him a message? But if we wanted to talk he would have to get over here again…”

“Why?”

“Jin doesn’t allow for me to go to his apartment. The agency doesn’t want me to make this public, yet. It has only been about three months or so…,” Jimin sighed, “I don’t want Namjoon to hate me already.” Taehyung reached for his friend and squeezed his arm lovingly. He knew about how scary it was to open up to someone, who then got completely overwhelmed as soon as the media would find out. It was frightening. And being as insecure as Jimin already was only made it worse for him. “I know you want to protect Namjoon, but he is a grown man…you can’t hide…” Taehyung snapped his head around when both phones vibrated simultaneously. Furrowing his brows, he looked at Jimin.

“Probably Jin…”

Jimin nodded at that, rubbing the sides of his temple. “I just want to make it right with him. Apologize and tell him how much I love and respect his boundaries…that I won’t ask so much of him anymore. Then we can figure out the rest.” Jimin’s phone was vibrating again.

And again. Sounding like a ‘reminder’ or ‘alarm clock’.

“Don’t tell me you have those stupid gossip pages notification on again? Jimin….I told you not to. It’s not good if you read all this shit about you-,” Taehyung choked on his own words when he had reached for his own phone, seeing a message from Jin which was only a link to a news page with Namjoon looking like a deer in the headlights on its front page.

“DON’T LOOK AT YOUR PHONE! STOP!” Taehyung screamed, jumping up from his seat when Jimin was already reaching for it by the kitchenette. “Why? I can handle it. You’re being just…” Jimin could feel his whole world stop. For a second there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Emptiness.

“Jimin, can you breathe….Jimin?”

A loud scream echoed through the apartment and Taehyung almost jumped. It was followed by Jimin gasping for air, trying to hold on to his best friend’s shirt desperately. His eyes wide and crazed. Sweating and shaking as the sense of not being able to breathe overwhelmed him completely. His heart started palpitating and Jimin felt himself getting light-headed.

Jimin’s outcry was audible throughout the whole house and so even Namjoon and Yoongi who were still standing in the doorway were able to hear it. Namjoon immediately tensed and without thinking he got inside, quickly walking throughout the rooms to search for Jimin, his mind blank except for the need to find Jimin and make sure that he was okay. Everything else had become less important for now.

“Jimin?” He found him in the kitchen where Taehyung was calmly talking to him, so practiced and skilled that it was pretty clear this wasn’t the first time.

“Sweety, calm down, breathe with me okay,” Taehyung was taking a deep breath, while his gaze stayed fixated on Jimin’s, who was not even being bothered by Namjoon who just stumbled into the kitchen. But instead of following Taehyung’s breathing, Jimin’s eyes widened in fear when he saw Namjoon and even though he was scared that he would break up with him now, Jimin wanted nothing else but to run into his arms. “No, please, Namjoon, no,” He whined, his knees giving up on him and Taehyung had a hard time to hold the younger up by his waist. “I can’t,” He choked on another breath, sobbing into his best friends shoulder, “It is…t-too much.”

Namjoon paled even further when he saw how Jimin was breaking down right in front of him. The way the younger reacted told him that there definitely were consequences for him, maybe his career or his contract was in danger now that there was gossip about him dating (or even dating a man?) in the press. So, he hurriedly tried to resolve Jimin’s issues and dissolve the chaos, “If it helps I could... make a statement and deny everything. Or I could say I was helping you with a financial issue. No one needs to know that there's something going on between us. If we just stay away for a while people will surely forget.”

“S-stay a-w-way?” Jimin gasped for air, when suddenly everything was quiet. He took in another sharp breath, when he saw the bruise on Namjoon’s forehead. A desperate whine left his lips. And then he let go of Taehyung.

“They hurt you…” Jimin was holding his breath, closing his eyes tightly as he feared the worst, but it also made him sway dangerously, “I hurt you.” Slowly, very slowly he reached out one hand for Namjoon. The moment he could feel the familiar warmth surrounding him, Jimin broke. “Please don’t mean that…please.” He sobbed, falling into Namjoon’s hold who barely caught him. “I know you have every right to leave me, to hate me. It’s too much. I am the worst. I know. I know you don’t want to be seen with me. They will talk.” He shook his head, holding on tightly to Namjoon’s shirt, “But I can become better, I p-promise. I wanted to keep you out of the media. I wanted…t-to keep you safe. I don’t know what happened. I am so sorry. Please, believe me. For everything. For last night.” Jimin was panting, taking in only short breaths while his whole body was shaking. “Please don’t stay away from me. I need you, oh god, I need you…”

Taehyung was taking slow steps back, hating to see his friend so helpless. It was messing with his own emotions, but he trusted Namjoon. In the few months he had gotten to know him as Jimin’s boyfriend he had proven himself to be very different from what Taehyung was used to from ex’s of Jimin…

“I am whiny. I am not good for you. Y-you can’t sleep with me a-a-round. I will never ask you again, please,” Jimin was talking fast, the tears clouding his view, “I…can be okay with o-only seeing you on the weekends. It’s okay. It’s all good. Fine. Yes. I make sure they don’t bother you. But please...” He looked up at Namjoon, not giving his boyfriend any time to speak up, “I’ll be more of what you need me. I know it’s too much. Me. The lights. Everything. Oh my god…Joonie, they hurt you. I did this. It’s my fault. I am too much. Please don’t...” His eyes widened and Jimin pushed a hand over his mouth when he realized what he was doing. He stifled his own sob with it, as he turned his cheek as if to await the final blow. Namjoon would finally have enough of him now that he saw how chaotic his life really was. He was sure that Namjoon would see how difficult it was and that Jimin wasn’t worth it. He didn’t fear his own contract or what Jin would say, he only feared the moment Namjoon would tell him that it was over. That he wouldn’t be able to stand the media or to be seen with Jimin now. That it had been nice, but that was it. Three months of happiness - Jimin should have called himself lucky that he had gotten a glimpse of what it felt like to truly feel loved with someone.

Namjoons throat closed up when Jimin held onto him like this, fingers digging painfully into his muscles. Jimin ached so badly, needed so desperately to be loved that he was offering to lose himself just to have a chance at love - even if it would mean pretending. And that Namjoons “love” wouldn't even be really for him. It hurt a lot, because even though he knew that Jimin was insecure and needed validation from him seeing him break like that in front of him just over a little injury he had gotten was totally different. It might have been different if they didn’t have that discussion before, but still, to know that something like this could shake Jimin so badly had him thinking. His frown deepened. He had told Jimin countless times that he loved him - so either Jimin couldn't fully believe him or he thought/had learned that the love he got was so fleeting that every minor change could make it vanish. He took Jimin’s hands and gently took them away from him to stop Jimin from hurting him further as he didn't seem to register how hard he was holding onto him.

Jimin’s eyes were still wide in fear, as he took in another sharp breath when Namjoon’s hands closed around his wrists. He blinked up at him, his heart beating fast. Even now in the midst of this chaos, Namjoon was the one calming him just by his presence alone. “Namjoon,” His name was barely a whisper as he couldn’t stand how silent the other was. “I didn’t know they would find out. I don’t know what happened. They shouldn’t have known about you...I made sure that you were safe, I tried, believe me,” He shook his head in a desperate manner to sort out his own thoughts. “I…I love you so much, Namjoon. I am scared...” He said quietly, suddenly all of the energy deflating from him and Jimin wanted nothing else but curl in on himself. He hiccupped and wiped over his cheeks with his sweater paws. It had only been three months and although Namjoon knew that he was dating someone who was in the public eye, it never occurred to them that the media would get to be a problem so quickly. The stress from the past days only making it worse for both of them. Just when Jimin thought everything was becoming better, that he was starting to become better - everything just came crashing down on him. “You’re going to break up with me now, don’t you?”

Namjoon didn’t answer his question immediately. He had reassured Jimin before but apparently Jimin didn’t get the “basics”; that he loved him, truly loved him and that an inconvenience wouldn’t make him suddenly stop. He took Jimin at the shoulders and turned him towards him so that despite his instinct to hide himself away Jimin had to look at him.

“Jimin, when I tell you that I love you? Do you believe me? Or do you think I’m just telling you what you want to hear? Do you think I am lying when I tell you how much you mean to me?” There was no bitterness or sharpness in his words, quite the opposite, they were soft and empathic, trying to solve the mystery that was Jimin’s believe he would be left at any second.

Jimin was looking at Namjoon with big eyes as he nodded softly. “Y-yes, I do believe you. Y-you show me.” The tears were dwelling in the corner of his eyes again and he shrugged his shoulders, “I know the fight last night was stupid and it...it doesn’t mean that you don’t love me b-but...this...I fear that if you see how hard it is with me, how difficult it really all is, that you will see it is not worth it. That I’m not worth it.” He smiled, a pathetic, sad smile, one that showed too much how hard he was trying not to show how he was truly aching. One that spoke of one too many heartbreaks and people telling him that love wasn’t enough for them to make them stay with him.

Namjoon reached out for Jimin’s hands and held them both. He was glad that at least the younger believed his words and he wouldn't have to start right at the basics and show Jimin that he wasn't lying to him. It would hopefully have him believing his next words too. “I'm a grown-up, Jimin. I know that love is not always sunshine and rainbows and that everyone has their flaws.” He smiled encouragingly. “However, even when we get into a fight or when there are rough patches on our way I won't stop loving you. I'm not that easy to shake and you definitely won't get rid of me that easily.” Namjoon sighed, “I won't lie, right now I'm stressed, and my head hurts and I really hated having all those strangers yelling stuff at me - but it's not your fault. If you haven't told them to go hunt me - which I don't think you have - why should I blame you? If anyone's at fault it's them for acting that way. Or even me for using the front door when I couldn't think straight. You won't lose me over something like this Jimin. I promise.”

Jimin’s expression turned from confused to hopeful and then to confused again. “You used the front door? Joonie!” Jimin laughed through his tears and flung his arms around his waist again to hold Namjoon tight, “Why did you... I tried to keep you out of their sight.” Gazing up, Jimin wiped over a stain of tears that he had left on Namjoon’s shirt, his cheeks blushing. “So, you still want to be with me? Even if they know? You can still back out now...you know there will be a lot of rumors, maybe even headlines that will want us to break apart. Joonie, even if we break up one day...it will forever be somewhere on social media…,” He gulped heavily taking the cool pack that Taehyung was handing him (the bruise on Namjoon’s forehead turning into a darker purple right now) and gave it over to Namjoon, “I’d understand it if you can’t do it. If it is too much and you want to leave…”

“Can you please stop pretending as if you weren't worth this? Because you are. They can write shitty articles and create attention seeking headlines and stupid scenarios and I'm certainly going to hate them and be angry at them for warping my - our - private life into some thrilling story but I'm not going to let them rob me of my chance to be with the one I truly love. As long as you're not planning in giving some kind of exclusive Interview about our sex life then we're going to be fine.” He gladly accepted the ice pack, groaning when it met his swollen skin.

Jimin just rolled his eyes at Namjoon, chuckling cutely before he pushed his boyfriend over to the couch to finally sit down. “I’m sorry, is it really bad?” He sat down beside him, trying to access the bruise, his hands caressing softly over Namjoon’s cheeks, before Jimin simply let himself get pulled onto his lap by his boyfriend. He instantly cuddled into his embrace, mumbling quiet ‘thank you’s’ repeatedly. Taehyung smiled at the sweet interaction as he slowly took a few steps back. He was sure that Jin was probably on his way already, if not already working on some damage control at the agency.

Taehyung closed the door behind him again and walked down the hallway, hoping to walk into Jin beforehand, so Jimin had some more time to calm down and talk to Namjoon alone. They deserved some peace, before Jin would bring in more trouble and everything else that came with ‘dating famous people’. Taehyung was still wearing his white shirt that was loosely tucked into some grey sweatpants as he walked into the lobby barefoot, gazing around - but there was no one but the paparazzi outside, hungrily waiting for someone to give them new information, the doorman and…

Yoongi was checking his phone for the nth time but the Internet Portals were just recycling the pics of Joon running against that lamp post, decorated with various pics of Jimin at fashion shows or where he was modeling for ads and something along the lines of how lucky Namjoon was or that Jimin needed to be careful not to fall into some gold diggers trap or how Namjoon might just use him for the fame. Yoongi shook his head. Namjoon avoided intense attention whenever he could. Those people had no idea. He put the phone away when he saw him, a boy, sporting comfortable, casual clothes, running around barefoot - but looking like royalty while doing so. He had a certain glow, a way to hold himself that clearly spoke of him knowing how to use his face and body to get what he wanted. Yoongi couldn't stop staring.

Taehyung couldn’t either. It took him a minute to get a hold of himself, smiling at the stranger. “You’re not one of those, right?” He nodded over to the glass door, where the media was waiting for Jimin to finally give a statement, “Cause I’d hate to throw you out.” He was biting his lip, while sitting down right next to the handsome man.

“Kim Taehyung,” Smiling brightly he reached out his hand for Yoongi to take.

Yoongi quickly swallowed his “I know” down before he could out himself as a googling Stalker. Now that the boy had said his Name there was no being mistaken; he sat with a high class model, Jimin’s friend and model colleague who was in the same agency. Yoongi might have printed out a pic of him when he had been initially checking out Jimin online for Namjoons sake. It might be on his nightstand next to the tissues. Suddenly mute with nerves he shook Tae’s Hand silently.

Taehyung was looking a little confused at the man, furrowing his brows. “So, you’re not telling me your name then…,” He pursed his lips into a pout, “And here I thought I could ask for your name and your phone number.” Taehyung chuckled and leaned back comfortably with his eyes closed. Only when the other still wasn’t talking to him after minutes passed he blinked them open again. “What does a guy like me have to do for a handsome man like you to talk to me?” Taehyung leaned in a little closer, batting his eyelashes at him cutely.

“Kiss me!” It broke out of Yoongi before he could stop himself. But honestly how on earth was he expected to control himself when Kim Taehyung in Person - the same he had seen in avant-gardism fashion shows and sultry cover pics - was sitting right in front of him and actually flirting with him! Yoongi blinked owlishly and then blushed again. He groaned inwardly thanking whatever deity was listening that Namjoon wasn't there to witness it again.

A smirk stole it’s way on Taehyung’s lips and he grabbed Yoongi’s wrist to pull him up from the bench he sat on and along with him. That was it, now he was being thrown out was the first thing in Yoongi’s mind - until he realized that Taehyung pulled him into the building and not towards the door. Tae could feel the other stumble a little, but before Yoongi could say something - maybe apologize - Taehyung pushed him around the corner and into the hallway where the media outside couldn’t see them. He was trying to catch his breath and recover from his own stupid boldness when Taehyung’s lips already met his and his breath was gone again in a rush of air. Feeling Taehyung against him was electrifying and the kiss was so sweet, so amazingly hot that Yoongi kissed him back with everything he had. His arm came around Tae’s waist as he greedily pulled the other closer (who knew when he would ever have that chance again?) and the others sweet, warm, deliciously plush lips met his again and again in heated nips and kisses.

“Really? You fucking kiddin’ me?” Jin came to a halt right in front of them making out and shook his head. “You think one isn’t enough for today? I am definitely too easy on you guys,” He was throwing his hands around, mumbling something angrily, before he simply walked ahead not wanting to be bothered by whatever Taehyung was doing again. He would take care of his headlines later. Now he needed to make sure Jimin was alright…

With his spare key, Jin opened the door to his apartment calling out for Jimin once or twice – but there was no answer. Instead he stumbled upon him, being curled up next to his boyfriend on the couch, sleeping peacefully. The puffy red cheeks and tear stains told Jin enough that Jimin had been exhausted from anxiety and stress.

“Namjoon?” Jin whispered quietly and nodded at him, when he blinked his eyes open. He eyed the bruise on his forehead, hissing in phantom pain. Jin didn’t care about finesse or his manners right now and instead sat down on the coffee table right in front of Namjoon. “I think we need to talk…”

Namjoon felt weirdly caught in the act when Jin came in, seeing them in such a private and intimate situation. He didn’t want to move though because Jimin had finally relaxed into his hold just a few minutes ago, dozing off into a light slumber. So instead of sitting up he just nodded carefully to Jin as a sign that he had understood and then quietly mouthed, “Does it have to be now? I don’t want to leave him alone right now.”

“You can just stay where you are actually,” Jin said and turned around to his bag to get out a folder. “Here. I need you to fill out and sign these papers for me,” He ordered calmly and gave it over to Namjoon with a pen. “I need this regardless of what your decision will be. But be happy...,” He chuckled a little, “At least I let you guys have a say in this.” His expression turned emotionless again as he urged Namjoon on to fill out the paper, “It’s some type of indemnity for Jimin and the company, whether you stay with him or not.” He sighed as his gaze wandered over the young man who snuggled a little closer to Namjoon, holding on tightly to his shirt as if he was scared that he’d still could leave. “So…what I found out is that they followed you after you broke the rule of not going through the front door and Jimin’s running off antics at a photoshoot a few weeks ago. Someone told on him as they saw him in the office with you. They put one and one together…,” Jin folded his hands together and leaned forward, “What is the official statement that I will give them?”

Namjoon knew that it would be the reasonable thing to do; get whoever was dating your client a disclosure agreement and let them sign it so that they were fucked in case they spilled anything that could ruin your clients career. Still it felt strange to hold a piece of paper in hand that forbid him to speak about certain things. He had absolutely no intention to tell anyone anything about Jimin that could be bad for Jimin’s career - but he still hesitated. “Does Jimin know that you’re giving me this? how...” He swallowed, “How did you handle it with his former boyfriends? If I’m not allowed to talk about Jimin at all - then what happens if I tell a friend? Or show someone a pictures of us because of course I want to share my relationship. I’m not planning on outing Jimin or giving any statement to anyone working at a magazine, but I don’t feel comfortable with not being allowed to talk to friends. What if something comes out nonetheless? What kind of consequences do I have to fear?”

Jin reached out for the paper and turned it onto the second page, pointing at some paragraph. “You can share everything about your relationship that Jimin is comfortable with as stated here. We haven’t really had any indemnity papers before you. His ex-boyfriend is why we installed it in the first place.” He chuckled quietly as he reached for a second version of the papers that Namjoon could take home later on, “You really don’t watch a lot of tv or keep up with the gossip, huh? That’s good…that’s really good though. I think it’s what he needs. Anyways…” Jin cleared his throat, “There’s always the risk of something happening but as long as we can be sure you’re not harming Jimin on purpose we won’t take any legal actions, like an interim disposal for example. Mishaps can happen…but we won’t let them happen too often. That’s why I want you to agree on a media training. Something that helps you stay confident when there’s an interview, or you’re invited to a gala or any event and not make you say anything that could potentially harm Jimin or yourself…every young model does one and since you’re not familiar with it at all, I’d like you to do one.”

Everything Jin had told him sounded reasonable and well thought out so Namjoon was about to agree to everything - until Jin mentioned the media training. “I have to do a ...what? How’s that supposed to go?” It made sense there were so many things to keep in mind that someone not trained with the media could never even think of and naively running into the very first trap a possible journalist would set up wasn’t good for any of them. He still felt awkward already thinking about having to be ‘trained’ to not make a fool out of himself. Probably by making a fool out of himself so that Jin’s people could tell him what he had done wrong. But if it would help his relationship with Jimin he’d do it, without any questions. So, he finally sighed, signed the papers and gave them back to Jin. “Okay. As much as I hate making our relationship the point of interest to people I don’t know I really don’t want to harm Jimin, you can trust me in that. And if that means being told what to say and how to say it in official situations, then i’ll do it.” He still wondered what Jimin’s ex had done to make Jin create legal papers in advance. Maybe he should get into the depth of online gossip after all.

“The aim of the media training courses is to prepare you for all conceivable contacts with the press. You will learn all about the agenda of journalists and how to deal with them and their way of questioning. It also touches non-verbal things like your body language and if it maybe tells something completely different than what you’re trying to say through words.” Jin told him and reached for the papers with a smile. He took a deep breath and stretched out his arms as if he was finally able to relax. Taking his phone out of his pocket Jin scrolled through some of his emails and messages from various of people and media representatives that were still waiting for confirmation on the dating rumor. A smirk stole it’s way on his lips as he saw Namjoon pulling Jimin a little closer on his chest, who was sighing softly in his hold, his lips pouty as he was sleeping in his arms. A ‘click’ sound later told Namjoon that Jin had taken a candid shot of them.

“Get used to it,” Jin responded to Namjoon’s offended look and showed him the picture were only his chest and arms were visible, while Jimin was sleeping beautifully. “When he’s awake, tell him to post it or do another one. Then we wait a few hours for the agency to confirm. Give the people a bit to speculate…,” Jin nodded proudly and got up from the table, “You can ask Taehyung, too. He’s great with taking photos if you’re not happy with this one. Either way, I expect to see you on Monday.”

Namjoon wasn’t just surprised he was a bit offended: first Jin told him he shouldn’t accidentally ‘harm’ Jimin and whatnot and then he was taking pictures of them - that they were supposed to post? He didn’t want to make a scene without consulting Jimin first as no one of his friends would actually care what kind of pictures he posted while Jimin knew better how to work around those things. Maybe it was better to give them something instead of having them get creative on their own (cause honestly there way too many talented photoshoppers outside and he did not want to imagine what they could do if they were “inspired” by magazine speculations).

In midst of his storm of thoughts, Taehyung stumbled back into the living room, caressing along his bottom lip with his thumb while he could still feel Yoongi’s lips on his own and Jimin started mumbling something sleepily, rubbing his eyes. “Hey,” Taehyung breathed out with a smile on his face, “I wanted to warn you guys…but…ehm…Jin is already gone again, right?”

“Yes, so your warning comes a little late,” Taehyung’s mischievous smirk had him furrowing his brow. “You look like Yoongi when he stole my sandwich last week. Did you cause any trouble that Jin isn’t supposed to know? If yes I’ll swear I won’t tell him - but only if you help me get something blackmail-ish on him to stop him from taking private pictures of us. Did he have you upload private shots as well? Did you even have a boyfriend or girlfriend ‘officially’?” The emotional turmoil got him talkative - cause now that Jimin was awake they needed to talk as well. How much they wanted to officially let others know. What they would say, how they would act. Relationships were complicated enough without strangers judging you.

Taehyung shook his head, “Nope. Just some hook-ups, nothing official, yet. Why? Do you have someone for me?” He laughed and asked, “Did he want you guys to post a picture before the official statement? It’s just a way of making more money out of it. Making it a little more mysterious and the media is starving by now. It’s been hours since you ran into them. You’ve got to feed them soon.”

“Oh, I actually know someone who would definitely be interested in you, but as I don’t know your type…” He broke off, even more offended than before, “Money? He did that to make money off us? And I thought there was some plan to make sure Jimin would be more in control of their stories… God, I really need that media training, I tend to believe in people way too easily.” His expression got a little bitter.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, that, too!” Taehyung waved Namjoon off, “Jin would never do anything without or consent. He didn’t post it, yet, right? See…you’re fine.” Tae leaned against the doorframe, when Jimin reached out for his phone sleepily, scrolling through the pictures. “Oh, and you didn’t mean the guy who was waiting for you at the lobby right? The one who is interested?”

Namjoon’s eyes widened, then he broke into laughter. “You already met Yoongi? Please tell me he didn’t try to hit on you! If yes I’m really sorry, that could maybe be our fault, he teased Jimin and me so we told him we would find him a boyfriend out of Jimin’s model friends, but it was rather a running joke between us than an actual plan. I hopefully won’t have to scold him next time I see him for how he behaved towards you?”

“Oh, well, he didn’t exactly hit on me,” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck before he casually added with a simple shrug of his shoulders, “But if you guys want to like…go into Jimin’s rooms…which is the furthest away from the guest room. I’d really appreciate it.”

Jimin snapped up, suddenly not feeling tired at all as he eyed Taehyung all while getting up and over Namjoon to pull him up with him. “If I get another noise complaint you will pay next month’s rent!” He turned to his boyfriend and motioned for him to keep walking. “You really don’t want to hear this.”

He wasn’t exactly naive, but it did take him a few seconds for the penny to drop. “You…wait, you didn’t.. did you..?” He groaned. “I’ll never hear the end of this! Yoongi will boast with this forever. He has a thing for beautiful boys so you’re like his jackpot…” He followed Jimin who very hurriedly tried to get away from Taehyung who looked absolutely pleased with himself. When they went out in the hallway, passing the front door (which meant they had to let go of their hands for a moment in case any of the paparazzi had a lense that was sharp enough to get a proper pic of them despite the distance) Yoongi was still there, looking totally smug. Namjoon gave him a knowing look. “Sooo… you finally get all your dreams fulfilled, won’t you?”

“More than that,” He closed the door behind him and reached out to intertwine his hands with Taehyung’s, “So much more than that.”

Jimin rolled his eyes at his cheesiness and just pulled Namjoon along the other way to keep him from getting into any argument. They had bigger and different things to talk about now.

“I saw you signed the contract,” Jimin sighed as he got up onto his bed opening up his arms for Namjoon to cuddle up to him this time, “I think I need to open up to you about a few more things now…” Jimin smiled nervously and kissed the top of his head, “I love you, thank you for choosing me, Joonie.”

“Oh. I didn’t think you were conscious enough to see that. I’m sorry if I decided over your head then. To be honest I’m a bit out of my depth here. So yeah, it would be nice if you could explain a little, tell me a few things, mention the risks, help me understand how much this media world is entangled with your life. For someone like me it’s pretty creepy to see how quick and deeply they can reach you, but I guess you must have gotten used to it in a certain way. And not everything is bad, they can hype you, make sure you’re noticed enough to get a certain job or raise your payment… I figure it’s a love/hate relationship?”

It was scary for Jimin to open up again but at the same time it felt good. It was a way of letting Namjoon see even more parts of him that he had been so scared of showing before. He told him about his ex-boyfriend, the rumors and the drama that happened when he had leaked pictures of Jimin. Not nudes, but private pictures. Some showing him in very vulnerable situations. How he had been using Jimin’s weaknesses against him, all just because he could. In the end Jimin just showed some of the magazine posts and legal statements to Namjoon, as he wasn’t so sure if he could explain it all without crying again. He was too exhausted already. They were sitting entangled, switching positions from time to time while talking almost all night and only when they remembered that Jin told them to officially post a picture of them did they entangle themselves from one another. Taking out his phone, Jimin sat up a little and took Namjoon’s hand in his own. He posted it minutes later. Without any comment and then closed his phone. He didn’t want to look at it tonight. The only one he wanted to gaze at was Namjoon.

“Did anyone ever tell you how handsome you are,” Jimin giggled softly.

“Not like this, no.” He waited until Jimin had put his stuff away before reeling him back in. Jimin was smiling but Namjoon could still see the wariness in his face, the exhaustion in the line of his body, the hurt and betrayal and everything that he had deeply buried inside of him after his trust had been so heavily abused by the one that had claimed to love him. When he looked at Jimin sometimes he wondered how people could ever willingly hurt each other. There were people who - despite not without flaws - had something so delicate and pure about them that even the thought of them getting possibly hurt made his heart ache. Jimin was one of them. And now that he knew in which ways he had been hurting before his desperate reactions whenever he felt like Namjoon might change path made a lot more sense.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise Jimin that he wouldn’t be like the people who had been mean to him before. Because they had probably promised him that his heart would be safe with them as well. Only time and his actions would be able to proof that he was different. And that Jimin’s heart was safe with him.

This was therefore his main reason why he was taking the media training even more seriously. Even though the first reactions on the picture that Jimin had posted been all positive, Namjoon didn’t want to hurt Jimin in any way just because he was clumsy or had no idea how this was working. In the end it showed quickly that he was naturally good at interviews, as he had to give a lot of presentations Namjoon knew how to talk well and educated, thinking about his answer before blurting them out. ‘Unlike Taehyung’, which Jin had told him many times. The only thing Namjoon hated were the photoshoots. He didn’t really get why he needed to do them in the first place, but then he reminded himself of the ‘lamp post’ picture that was still strewn all over the internet and that he needed to at least look a third as good as Jimin next to him. Though he had absolutely no problem with letting Jimin have his moment, while stepping back and letting him have all the attention the younger deserved. Still Namjoon hadn’t gotten used to the attention, to the paparazzi following him - though it had gotten a less and they were onto Jimin more than him alone. Only when they were seen together the sudden wave of flashing lights were blinding him to the fullest, so he held onto Jimin’s hand a little tighter when the other maneuvered them through the people outside of the agency and into the car.

Only an hour later he gotten a message of a picture of himself, where his eyes were big in fear, his smile a little too static while Jimin was waving the people naturally, his eyes hidden behind some sunglasses.

“You should try out that trick. It helps a lot,” The younger reassured him, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s a lot, right? But you’re doing so great. I have the best boyfriend, really. And remember, Jin only wants the best for you. It will all ebb down as soon as we’re not the sensation anymore. We’re too boring anyways for them sooner or later.” Leaning in Jimin placed a soft kiss on his cheek, cuddling a little closer to his boyfriend on the bed as he focused back on the movie. Namjoon was sure he must only get used to it, have a little more training, maybe get some more tips from Tae and Jimin and then he’d be fine.

What he didn’t know was, that Jin and Taehyung had the same exact thought.

Just a little more training was what he needed.

Taehyung was a firm believer in facing your fears, therefore he wanted for Namjoon to face his of not feeling so insecure and uncomfortable as soon as there were too many cameras in his face. To follow through with his plan Tae tiptoed through the apartment quietly, his camera in hand as he sneaked around the corners trying not to make a sound. He had told them he was with Yoongi, but instead he just simply sneaked back into the apartment later that night. He simply wanted to surprise attack Namjoon. A simple “Press Attack” as they called it in the agency when the aspiring models learned to handle the media. How should he have known that the minute he jumped out from the corner, pushing the button to take a picture with a blinding flash that Namjoon would be naked.

Wearing nothing.

Just Namjoon being stark naked.

“Oh,” Taehyung froze completely and only his eyes wandered down Namjoon’s chest and down his thighs to a certain area and up again, “Damn…that’s…a lot…”

Although Namjoon’s first instinct was to cover himself up his second one was to make sure that there was no other material that Jin might use for some strategic media placement especially not when it contained nude pictures of him. So, he more or less attacked Taehyung right away, wrestling the camera out of the other’s grip and deleting the pictures of himself right away.

“There is no way I let Jin - or any of you - use naked pictures of me! I don’t care if it’s for blackmailing to not hurt Jimin or for pretending someone leaked my nudes to get sympathy for him or for whatever strange plans you got - there is no way I’m letting you do that!” He angrily took the camera with him while trying to find something to cover himself up with - not really in a hurry any longer as Taehyung had seen everything up close now (against his will).

Taehyung who was still completely shocked from the fact that he just got jumped by a naked Namjoon, only blinked his eyes in confusion before he finally found his voice. “I didn’t…I didn’t know you would be naked,” Taehyung threw his hands up in defense, “I just wanted to make sure you’re ready to handle the paparazzi. But I think you’re more than ready to be his bodyguard now than anything else.” Taehyung rubbed the side of his arm, where he could still feel the impact of Namjoon’s strength.

“Thanks. Now get the hell out of here before I have to explain to Jimin why I’m standing half naked in a room together with his model friend. Not that I don’t think you’re beautiful but - as I’ve been trying to tell Jin and also you - I am not planning on hurting or betraying Jimin so I’d really appreciate it if you two could stop messing with me. I’m taking the media training serious. The least you can do is not fucking with my mental state and undo all that.”

Taehyung didn’t let him told twice and quickly got out of the apartment, giggling on his way out. He couldn’t wait to tell Yoongi what had happened.

“What was th’ nois’” Jimin mumbled sleepily, turning in his bed the minute the mattress dipped and the cold sneaked under the covers when his boyfriend lifted them to get under them again. He let Namjoon pull him closer instantly, sighing softly against his naked chest. “Thought you wanted to get your shirt?” Jimin sneaked a hand sleepily down Namjoon’s back and to his bottom, “I think you should always just be naked.” He nuzzled his face into Joon’s neck and yawned, “Let’s never wear clothes again.”

“Ah, great idea. Might interfere a little with your job though. You know with you letting others take pictures of you wearing their clothes? I sure wouldn’t mind. It would surely save some time if I didn’t have to get you out of your clothes every time I want to have you.” He sweetly kissed Jimin on his forehead despite his dirty words. The younger was still half asleep and honestly it was no wonder; he had a constant lack of it when he was working so that when Jimin finally had some free time his body tried to get all the rest it could get.

Jimin only groaned quietly, turning around in Namjoon’s hold to snuggle back into the cushion. “I have to get up in three hours, don’t make me think about work now,” Jimin sighed.

Time always seemed to fly whenever he was with Namjoon.

No matter if he was just lying next to him or talking to him on the phone. It never seemed enough. And he always seemed too far away. Jimin hated it. But he kept quiet, because after their last fight he didn’t want to bring up the topic again, especially with the way Namjoon was working his butt off to make sure to represent them as a couple in the media. Jimin still couldn’t believe that he was doing that for him. It felt like two different worlds were colliding, one he was afraid of showing to Namjoon first and Jimin was only hoping that it wouldn’t backfire in any possible way.

….

„So, Namjoon,“ Jin was tapping his fingers against the clipboard he was holding, his gaze stern and expression emotionless. “I see that you’re really willing to do this for him and I think you’ve learned a lot this past week.” He looked up, raising an eyebrow, “Though the incident with Taehyung…I’d like to note that I had nothing to do with it. Well, I told him to make sure you’ll learn a few more tricks not to jump out like that…anyways,” He flipped over a page and sighed deeply, “Now there is only one more thing I’d like to talk to you about. Jimin’s family.”

Namjoon’s smile froze a little at the mentioning of the ‘Taehyung incident’ but he was more than willing to let it slide if it meant to never talk about it again. Then Jin mentioned Jimin’s family and he automatically sat up straighter. Jin had never shared any information on Jimin so him possibly telling Namjoon something he hadn’t known before meant that he really trusted him now - and also that Namjoon would get to know something that he had wondered a lot about and had very little intel on: Jimin’s background. Whenever there was an occasion were questions about his upbringing or his parents could arise Jimin evaded them elegantly and with a smile (very possibly because of the media training that Namjoon had under his belt now as well) Although of course it only made him more curious he had never dared to push further.

“It might be that when you do public appearances that they will reach out to you. In no way are you allowed to interact with them. If they contact you, you tell us, and we will take care of the matter. Don’t talk to Jimin about this before you haven’t contacted me. It is important for his mental health and his well-being that you follow these rules.” Jin paused. His gaze was piercing right through Namjoon, waiting for him to process the information. “I understand it seems quite harsh and to some maybe even cruel. And I am not quite sure about how much you actually already know about them…”

Whatever Namjoon had expected this wasn’t it.

“So… what you’re telling me is that Jimin’s parents might reach out to me and that I’m supposed to not tell him because it might…be bad for him?” The silence that followed could only be interpreted as a yes. “What exactly happened between them that even mentioning that his parents might want to see him could cause Jimin to spiral?” When he saw Jin’s face closing off he hurriedly added, “You know just because I don’t want them to overwhelm me or tell me lies to break my resolve. I just… want to know the truth.”

Jin rolled his shoulders back, trying to get comfortable on his chair but with the topic at hand, there was no way he would ever feel comfortable with it. “You know, when I saw Jimin for the first time, I knew that he didn’t belong where he was. He was studying medicine. He hated it.” Jin chuckled, “You could see from a mile away that he was struggling. That he didn’t fit in, but not because he wasn’t smart or anything else. But because it dulled him.” Rubbing his palm against his jeans, Jin sighed deeply, “He came into the agency a few days later after I gave him my card. He had a black eye. Nonetheless I still thought of him as the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen. So, I took him in. Literally. Because they kicked him out. A son that didn’t became a doctor. Who is gay and wanted to become a model instead? Yeah, they didn’t take that very good. His father always thought of Jimin as too soft. I personally think it’s his best feature. His softness. He’s almost angelic, isn’t he?” Shrugging his shoulders, Jin leaned back a little, “It probably was the best thing that happened to him, though he would argue with me and tell me that it’s you.” His smile looked a little stiff as he gazed back up at Namjoon, “I don’t take mental abuse lightly and Jimin had enough of it. They tried to rip him off everything when he got recognized more and more. It’s…a lot. I am not even sure how much I am allowed to tell you. Let him be the one, who tells you more in detail, but I guess you can imagine…you know him for some time now. Makes a lot more sense now, right? His fears and stuff? So, under no circumstances will you answer questions about Jimin’s family or his parents. You rather decline politely than anything else. It isn’t often though, the media has forgotten about it but with you now being in the picture,” Jin sighed and raked a hand through his hair, “It could be that they ask you about marriage, kids and everything else relationship-related.”

Namjoons eyes hardened, his lips turning into a thin line. He had always wondered how there could be so much pain hiding behind such a beautiful smile and how Jimin could think that he would leave him behind for a single ‘mistake’ or some difficulties. However, it would make sense if your own parents kicked you out, the people who should love you the most and absolutely unconditionally, just for being who you are. Different. Not heterosexual. Unhappy with the path they wanted him to walk. “Don’t worry.” His voice sounded brittle and bitter, the underlying warmth that normally was always there almost completely gone. “I won’t talk to them if they try to get to Jimin through me. And I won’t tell the media anything either.” He might tell Jimin that he knew though. It would feel strange to keep it from him that he knew something Jimin hadn’t shared on his own.

“Thank you,” Jin visibly relaxed and got up from his chair, “Really, I am thankful. For the way you’re treating him. He’s a lot more relaxed, though I don’t want to hear any details on why that is, please.” He laughed and reached out his hand for Namjoon to shake, “If there is anything you ever need or if you still have questions, just hit me up.” With a smile, he added, “Jimin is still doing his Cover Shoot up until tonight, so there is no need to wait for him. Do you want me to call you a cab or did you come here by yourself?”

“It’s fine, I’ll enjoy a little walk.” He tried to smile but honestly it saddened him that Jin felt like he had to actually thank him for loving Jimin and treating him like a human being. How horribly must his former partners treated him if an agreement to not hurt him on purpose and not letting Jimin’s parents use their son got him that kind of reaction? Sadly, it made sense, with Jimin who must have been starved for love and attention, desperately yearning for someone to love him ‘despite his flaws’ - because no one had told him that the reason he had been kept at distance from his parents weren’t flaws and that he was loveable just the way he was. He must have been easy prey, hopeful and just a little lost, his vulnerability visible in his softness, his kind heart, his gentle words. It must have been easy to gain his trust - and then break him open to make his heart bleed, maybe for the kicks, maybe for the fame or the power. Namjoon took out his phone and sent Jimin a little message, something sweet and heartfelt with ‘I love you at the end’, only then did he feel like he could breathe again.

As it was that Jimin would be working all night, Namjoon hadn’t expected to see Jimin at all tonight. Instead, he had put on some comfortable clothes and got out a new book that he had been dying to read for weeks now but hadn’t found the time, yet. But he didn’t make it very far as the exhaustion pulled him under really quick after a few pages. And only the sudden persistent sound of his doorbell ringing, made him jerk awake again.

With his book still in hand and some wariness in his face he looked through the door viewer - only to find Jimin standing outside, pale and wet and with a smile on his face that didn’t quite match the tiredness in his eyes.

He opened the door immediately. “Jimin, what are you doing? And why… are you so wet?” Jimin couldn’t have walked all the way and he normally took a cab also Raincoats and umbrellas existed - but Jimin just laughed and shook it off, brushing back his damp hair with practiced efficiency.

“I’m visiting my boyfriend…and I thought I came prepared,” Jimin winked at him teasingly, before he quickly added, “I wanted to surprise you…I have a day off tomorrow, and I thought we could go for a ride together.” He pointed down the little hallway of the apartment complex and to his bike, nodding proudly. “If it’s not raining tomorrow of course…but I didn’t know how else to get it here but to just ride all the way and also I’ve never been here, and I think I got lost twice but I found it now. So, sorry I’m late and I should have texted you but I’m not very good with texting and driving.”

“That’s…you what?” He sighed and took a step aside. “Come on in then. But I didn’t clean up and there’s nothing in the fridge for you to properly cheat on your diet and I didn’t prepare the bed and...” A heated kiss with cold lips interrupted him as Jimin hugged him tight, ignoring the fact that he was getting Namjoon just as wet. “Alright, alright, I’ll shut up!” Namjoon surrendered quickly, watching Jimin getting rid of his jacket and showing off his tight black bike gear that hugged his figure deliciously. Jimin could feel Namjoon’s eyes on his body instantly and he smirked as he slowly stripped off the wet clothes. “Do you have some dry clothes for me, Joonie?” Jimin asked and cocked up an eyebrow when the other didn’t answer right away, “The bedroom, babe. Where is it?” With a chuckle, Jimin watched Namjoon stumble ahead and only then did he finally let his gaze wander around the apartment that Namjoon called his own. He smiled instantly. Although it was already dark outside and only a few lights were one illuminating the scenery - Jimin still loved it. He already felt at home.

Taking the (for him oversized) sweatshirt from his boyfriend, Jimin quickly pulled it over his head to not miss a thing on his observation. He slowly let his hand wander over the many books in Namjoon’s shelf, giggling at a few art pieces and figurines that were neatly placed in between. It was a simple apartment with lots of open spaces and big windows that Jimin could only imagine would let the light shine in beautifully in the morning. He couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow.

Turning around, Jimin placed himself right on Namjoon’s lap who had made himself comfortable on his couch again. “I love it here,” Jimin mumbled against his lips and placed a soft kiss on them, “It feels cozy. Just like you. There is only one thing missing…” He giggled softly and pointed at a still empty wall, “A picture of me right there, don’t you think?”

“Nah, there’s no need to inflate your ego even more,” He teased him right back, knowing that it was a dangerous game he was playing because although Jimin liked their little banters it could easily hit too close to home. Luckily he could read Jimin like a book by now, every little twitch, the change in his face or the expression in the other’s eyes told him what he needed to know. And right now, Jimin was nothing but restless energy and recklessness, brimming over with spirit. “Besides I prefer you in person even more. Cause then I can do this,” He pulled Jimin down into a heated kiss, letting Jimin take what he needed.

Jimin giggled softly while kissing Namjoon back with the same intention. He got lost in it quickly, his hands wandering all over his chest and shoulders to feel more of Namjoon and his warmth, to make his own cold body feel alive again. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” He murmured, placing a few more kisses on his lips before he pulled off and smiled at his boyfriend, “Because I have something for you. And it isn’t me naked this time.”

“You’ve got something for me?” He interrupted himself with peppering Jimin’s jaw with quick, short little kisses, “If it’s not you then I’m not sure if I’ll be that interested in it. You’re the best present there is. The most beautiful…” A kiss to his nose “…and the softest.” He slowly rubbed the warmth back into Jimin’s rain-cold body, feeling the younger’s skin heat up under his hands and feeling proud that Jimin trusted him enough to let him do this. Because at first Jimin had been pretty shy with any non-sexual caresses, ones that silently promised ‘I love you’.

“Joonie, stop, or else I can’t concentrate,” Jimin laughed, but still didn’t push his hands off him, instead he just dwelled in the attention and care. “I don’t ever need to buy you any Christmas gifts then. Just me wrapped in a bow?” He leaned in and stole another kiss from Namjoon, before he let himself fall off his lap, so he could turn around, crawl a little over the couch to reach for his bag. “I know you had your final media training today with Jin. And there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a little while now.” Jimin got back next to Namjoon, putting his legs over his lap to keep close and let his boyfriend pull them in. “You really don’t have to say ‘yes’ or anything else, really. I know it’s been a lot already and you can always just say that you don’t want to. No pressure, really. Just because you’re with me, doesn’t mean you have to do things like this with me, only if you want to,” Jimin was talking fast, obviously getting nervous, “I just thought it would be nice and it’s for good cause.”

“Yeah, just you with a bow will be enough.” Although they were joking around his words held truth. Because no property or possession could ever hold the worth for him that Jimin’s presence in his life did. Despite him liking his work and living a good, fulfilled life he couldn’t imagine a life without the other in it any longer. Namjoon had to smirk, looking at Jimin questioningly. “The way you phrase it, it sounds like it’s something really bad. Just so you know I’m not going to sell a kidney for a good cause.”

Jimin shook his head, “I’d never let anyone hurt you, Joonie! Just look at this please and tell me what you think, okay?” He got out two invitation cards from behind his back and with shaking hands Jimin gave them over to Namjoon. “I’ve been partnering with them for a long time, mentoring some group of kids and they always hold this gala, where they raise money for the kids in need. Ones that are amazingly talented. Whether it’s business or entertainment related. Everyone deserves a chance right? And if I can only give a bit of what I have now to make someone’s dream come true or make life a little easier…because they can’t…,” Jimin bit his lip, noticing that he was starting to ramble, “There will be a red carpet. The media will be there, too. Not much though. It’s not as crazy as if we would go to a movie premiere or something alike. I mean we could do that too if you rather want to do something like that?” He paused, holding his breath, “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea. And a sweet thought. Very you.” He watched as Jimin shyly avoided his gaze. He always started blushing when he was talking about something that was really important to him as if he was embarrassed that he cared so much. To Namjoon though it just showed what a warm, open heart the younger had. And besides Jimin being lovely and him wanting to see what was important to his love it was actually a decision that rationally made sense. Yes, they would draw attention but if it helped the cause then why not? And less journalists might also mean not getting overwhelmed so quickly - or that he could outrun them in case he got cold feet. He chuckled to himself at the thought of what kind of headlines that would get and then carefully took one of the invitations. “I’m in.”

Jimin’s eyes widened and a big smile appeared on his lips, “Really?” He couldn’t hide the excitement, holding onto his own invitation tightly and biting his lip. “You will love it. There are all kinds of people. Famous actors, models, idols…everyone is there.” Jimin leaned in to steal a kiss from Namjoon, before he added, “Oh and there is a dress code. And I already guessed that you didn’t have anything in white or baby blue, so I called the designer I’m working with,” He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze sheepishly before adding, “So, I thought we could go there tomorrow and let them tailor it. It’s going to be one of a kind, made to be fitting what I’m wearing. Their office is right by the Han river, we could ride our bikes there and have a picnic after?” Jimin tried his hardest not to blush, not wanting to show how much he had been wrecking his mind about it for days now.

“You…you don’t have to make such an effort for me? I could just lend something old from you, couldn’t I?” He couldn’t exactly pay some special-tailored dress shirt outfit from his regular vague - and letting Jimin pay for him felt a little strange. It was different when Jimin bought them dinner because Namjoon could return the favor the next time they went out. It didn’t really work with tailored clothes though.

“My clothes?” Jimin cocked up an eyebrow and put his invitation aside, “You…want to wear my clothes? Namjoon – don’t talk nonsense. Is it because you think I will pay for it?” Jimin laughed and shook his head, “I think Jin didn’t tell you about this, but most designers make clothes especially for red carpet events for free for you to wear. You either give the clothes back to them in the end, or they are generous and let you have it. It’s a free advertising for them. And he was all ears as soon as he heard he could design something for you. You know you will be a headline. He wants you to wear his clothes. It’s the best ad he could ask for.” Jimin smiled reassuringly and explained further, “That’s why so many celebrities are keen on telling the media who they are wearing. That’s how you ‘pay’ for the clothes. Almost like a runway show – what else are red carpets good for?”

“Oh.” Namjoon felt stupid for not knowing something that seemed so obvious to Jimin but how should he really? Despite Jimin basically living on red carpets he had no idea how exactly all of it worked, just little bits and pieces from magazines and Jimin when he was sleepy enough to not mind telling him a few details. “I guess it’s okay then.” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “So... tomorrow you said?”

Jimin nodded, “He’s nice, don’t worry about it. I’ll be with you…and I’ll keep you safe on the red carpet as well. I promise!” He got up and on his boyfriend lap again, his naked thighs the perfect spot for Namjoon to put his hands on and feel the soft skin. “Do you want me to help with the nervousness?” A smirk placed itself on his face, while Jimin let his hand wander down Namjoon’s chest, “I know a few ways…” Slowly and without leaving Namjoon’s gaze he got off his thighs and onto the floor on his knees.

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard tea should help. Or knitting. You going to make me a cup of tea for me to relax?” Namjoon feigned innocence, smiling at Jimin as if he didn’t know what the other had in mind. Honestly, he was a bit nervous so maybe Jimin’s way of taking his mind off things would be useful for real.

“Either way, it’s going to be hot,” Jimin chuckled and let his hands wander up Namjoon’s thighs, “I’ll make you forget. Don’t worry.”

Oh, and did he make him forget.

But their neighbors. They would never forget that, Namjoon was sure of that.

...

He chuckled to himself quietly at the memory, fixing his collar once more as he stood in front of Jimin’s apartment a week later. Unfortunately, the nervousness had been creeping back in the closer the day got. His heart beating a little faster than usual. He hadn’t seen Jimin in days, while the younger was gone on a trip for a magazine shoot, only coming back last night. His heart was aching to see the one he loved, while at the same time it was fighting the urge to jump right out of his chest because Namjoon was too nervous. His hands were shaking as he pushed down the doorbell.

“There you are!” Jin opened the door and eyed the outfit Namjoon was wearing, “You look great! Very handsome…wish I could say the same about Jimin, but he fell asleep while they put on his make-up. He’s still wearing his PJ’s….been sleeping all day already,” Looking down at his watch, he sighed, “It’s taking too long. The car will be here in twenty minutes!” Jin wasn’t really talking to him anymore, while he was waving his hands around frantically already calling out for the makeup artist to hurry and not hesitate to wake the model up. Something along the lines of ‘he is used to it’ and how ‘you just need to shake him a little’.

Namjoon knew a way better option to wake Jimin up but it was a little too personal to suggest it, so he refrained from kissing his partner awake and instead let Jimin’s stylist and Co. do their jobs in trying to wake him up with little to no pouting involved. Finally, Jimin had blinked his eyes open wide enough to see him. “Hey gorgeous,” He greeted the younger, waving a little awkwardly while standing in midst of busy people. “Are you ready to go out with me officially?”

Jimin shook his head softly, trying not to move too much while there was still someone curling up his hair to make it wavy. “No, I still need to get…,” He paused, waiting for the makeup artist to finish touching up his lips with a light tint to accentuate them and then added, “Get dressed. But I’m almost done.” He yawned, stretching himself on his chair, when the two women stepped aside to let him get up. Jimin thanked them, ignoring Jin’s orders and reached for his jewelry to put on and then vanished into his room.

“Finally! I’ll go down and make sure the cab is right in front of the door,” He ushered the other two people out of the apartment as well, “I’ll let you guys have a minute.” With that, Jin closed the door behind him and with him the hectic was gone as well.

“I don’t know if it looks good,” Jimin’s whined from behind the door and then opened it, averting his gaze as he pulled at his clothes, “Isn’t it too soft? I could maybe wear contacts…to complete this right? Blue one’s?” His hands were shaking and Jimin didn’t even look at Namjoon, before he turned to the mirror and eyed himself warily. “It’s too soft right?”

“Too soft to be true…” Namjoon slightly teased him and then hugged him from behind while the younger still worriedly stared into the mirror. the fluffy sweater felt amazing against his skin and he put his chin on Jimin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry - nothing is able to look softer than you. And I like it, when you’re wearing something cozy like this. However, if you don’t feel comfortably I’m sure we can find something else that won’t make you feel insecure.” He didn’t comment on the contacts because he preferred it when he could see Jimin’s eyes for real but he also knew that they acted as some kind of ‘barrier’ between Jimin and the world and sometimes the younger just needed them to feel more safe.

Jimin had leaned into Namjoon’s touch immediately, letting his warmth soothe him and his words reassure him that he was fine. “No, I’m not insecure,” Jimin furrowed his brows and took a deep breath, “I’m fine. I’m just…I’m nervous actually. I’m never really nervous.” He turned in Namjoon’s hold and let his hands wander over the soft fabric of his light blue shirt up until he could cup his cheeks. “You look so handsome. They will adore you so much.”

“Jimin!” Jin’s voice interrupted Jimin from talking further, from telling Namjoon about how nervous was about everything. About what people would say about them, if they would think Namjoon was too handsome for him, that he deserved better or if they would start rumors, bringing up past relationships or something else that made him nervous. Jimin reached out for Namjoon’s hand, lacing their fingers together, “I’m fine. I’m just tired, don’t worry.” He was more talking to himself than Namjoon as he reached for his purse and then pulled his boyfriend along and down to the cab.

The ride was quiet. Too quiet for Jimin’s normally chatty nature. But apparently he was more scared than he let on. Namjoon tried to help him relax, distract him, have a chat but Jimin’s tense posture only changed when the car pulled into their spot and they could already see the flashlights of the reporters through the tinted windows in some kind of distorted flecks of light. Jimin gripped his hand, palm sweaty and his grip too tight but he smiled his model smile that Namjoon knew from photoshoots and interviews by now.

“Let’s give them something to write about!”

Jimin genuinely smiled at that and nodded. He closed his eyes for a second, snapping them open the moment the driver opened the door and let Jimin out first. The flashing lights were going crazy already, making it harder for him to see and Jimin smiled and waved at a few people, but nothing could compare to the moment Jimin turned around and reached out his hand for Namjoon to grab as he got out of the cab as well.

For a moment, Jimin felt completely overwhelmed and he held on a little tighter to Namjoon. It had felt like his usual mask that he was putting on for the public was wavering the minute Namjoon stepped next to him. He didn’t know what to do.

His big, unsure eyes were gazing up at his boyfriend. “Joonie,” He whispered anxiously, hearing the people shout his name and telling them to turn around for the cameras, “Please kiss me.”

At first Namjoon thought that he hadn’t heard right because Jimin normally was as shy as one could be about affection outside their four walls (probably because he feared that they could be seen by someone who shouldn’t see them) so being asked something like this came as a surprise. But Jimin looked so lost and maybe it was meant to be a statement like ‘Yes we are in love, please get over it’ so if it was what Jimin wanted then he would do it this time. Namjoon took a deep breath, preparing to get even more flashlights and shouts directed at him before leaning down and kissing Jimin the way he had wanted to since he had seen him today, sweet and honest and maybe a little too short - but there were people all around them after all.

Jimin couldn’t care less about that. He just needed something to ground himself, to feel something else but fear and anxiety. Biting his lip softly, Jimin closed his eyes again – just for a second, really – before he pulled his shoulders back and turned around. He wrapped his hand around Namjoon’s bicep, wanting to feel even closer to him as they walked up to where the carpet actually was starting. “I’m sorry,” Jimin mumbled, waiting for the organizer to check their list and notify the people that he had arrived. “Your kisses always make me feel a little safer,” Jimin mumbled, giggling softly and then turned his attention back on the guy in front of them. “Mr. Park, Mr. Kim…we were already waiting for you,” The man said and motioned for them to walk ahead, “I’ll hope you have a great evening.”

Namjoon smiled at that, thinking of it as a beautiful compliment that kissing him made Jimin feel safe. The warmth in his chest carried him through all the violent yelling and screaming, ignoring the reporters as if it was nothing. At least they weren't jumping at him while he was naked - so Taehyung's ‘special training’ might have helped a little after all.

After passing the red carpet it was different, with more people like Jimin and less ones like the reporters running around. Namjoon couldn’t help but stare at someone he had just recently seen in a movie but couldn’t remember the name of, knowing that this wasn’t someone you would just meet at the store. There were lots of women in amazing dresses and Namjoon wondered how much all the clothes in here combined would cost. Probably enough to build a few houses and schools.

“Over there you can give in donations, there’s the buffet and somewhere around here should be our table,” Jimin explained, not really noticing how Namjoon wasn’t listening but staring, taking in the whole scenery. He pulled him along and over to where the food was aligned beautifully and people were already catching up on each other’s careers, talking and grabbing themselves some food. Jimin smiled, his mouth watering from the view alone and when his eyes spotted the candy bar, he excitedly jumped up.

“They have chocolate balls!” Jimin dismissed the other food easily and quickly got over to grab himself some of the delicious treats to bring them back to their table. “There will be some speeches later and I think some of the kids are even performing tonight.” He smiled genuinely, greeting a few people along the way while never letting of Namjoon’s hand while holding onto the treats with the other, “And we can dance and…”

Jimin came to a halt abruptly. His breath caught and an obvious fake smile appeared on his lips. Just like the one on the person’s face that had just appeared out of nowhere, blocking his way. “Oh, I think we’re sitting at the same table, Jiminie,” The young man smirked and leaned in to hug Jimin, who was still standing awkwardly stiff, murmuring something under his breath. “Don’t you want to introduce me to your friend?” He turned around, flashing Namjoon a bright smile.

Namjoon didn’t like the way Jimin tensed up though the man in front of them acted as if he and Jimin were friends. So, he just followed along, holding out his hand for the other to shake. “I’m Namjoon. And you are?” Jimin didn’t look like he was keen on talking about who the other was but if Namjoon was about to sit next to that guy he really didn’t want to wonder who he was for the whole evening.

“Hoseok,” Taking the hand Namjoon offered, Hoseok looked over to Jimin again with pursed lips. “Model and actor? You might have seen me before? No?” He raised his eyebrow cockily, “You should have. I’m good at what I do.” Chuckling, Hoseok winked at Namjoon, “I can also just show you. Maybe that’s something for later.” He cocked his head aside, “Jimin can count himself lucky if I say so myself.” He leaned back comfortably and looked around the ballroom, before his gaze stopped at Jimin again, who was eager to just move along.

Once again Namjoon wondered if he shouldn't start to pay a little more attention to the fashion magazines - but their shallowness always scared him off, their short-lived trends and way of trying to make fleeting things important that in his opinion only distracted from the real values out there having him unable to finish more than a few pages before he had to put them away. At least he knew that Hoseok was probably a colleague of Jimin’s. Maybe they had met at a photoshoot before? He completely ignored the other’s compliments to not make Jimin any more uncomfortable and instead just downright asked him what he wanted to know. “How do you know each other? I’m sorry Jimin might have told me about you but I’m new to this world of fame and fashion and so I tend to get a little overwhelmed.”

Jimin bit his tongue to not say something, instead he just quietly watched them interact and talk, while he sat down his chair, his eyes flickering back and forth between them. “You haven’t told him about me? I’m offended,” Hoseok fake gasped and laughed, leaning over to Namjoon in the process and holding onto his arm for a second. Just a slight touch. One that made Jimin stiffen up even more. “I’ve been Jimin’s roommate while we were trainees under Jin’s agency. I moved on to another agency now, though.” Hoseok nodded over to Jimin, “But it’s been a fun experience, wasn’t it?” Jimin just quickly nodded his head, smiling at Namjoon, before he narrowed his eyes back down to his plate and then over to the stage and around the ballroom instead of listening. He didn’t want to know what Hoseok was doing, or how he pretended to be interested in Namjoon’s job right now and that each time he was laughing his hand was holding onto his shoulder so Hoseok wouldn’t fall over, while his own hands were shaking, and he was aching to reach out for Namjoon. The longer they kept talking and Hoseok was telling him about their first years in the agencies - and even though it was interesting for Namjoon to finally get more insight on his life and what he had been up to when he first started out -  it was making Jimin nervous. Anxious. Scared. He was too tired for this. His heart beating fast.

“I see Jimin finally gained some weight,” Hoseok noticed and motioned over to his plate and looked at Namjoon with a raised eyebrow, lowering his voice, “Normally I’d found him not eating a thing for days sometimes. He always sneaked in those chocolate candy, though I told him that those were the ones that kept making him look chubby, didn’t I, Jimin? Ah, loving memories, right? We’ve grown so much but you’re still eating them! Is he still sneaking them out?” He turned from Namjoon back to Jimin, “Oh, by the way are you still in contact with your parents?”

That was it. Jimin could feel him lose his breath in a second. Instead of answering, he put his napkin onto his plate despite him not touching anything and smiled, “I’m sorry. Will you excuse me? I’ll be right back.” With that, he turned around and walked ahead, almost stumbling over someone else’s chair in the process. He just needed to get some air maybe, some water - anything to calm himself.

At first Namjoon relaxed a little, enjoying how Hoseok told him little bits and pieces of their past, innocent stories at first, things you would laugh about. But then he was starting to get personal, hinting at Jimin’s weight, his insecurities and the atmosphere started to change quickly. Jimin was visibly uncomfortable. Namjoon however wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do if he tried to defend Jimin or if he would only make him feel more vulnerable and therefore make him even more uncomfortable. Only when the other mentioned Jimin’s parents did he feel like a line was crossed and he was just about to speak up when Jimin got up from his seat, politely excusing himself and then vanishing so quickly that it pained Namjoon’s hard. It hadn’t been difficult to see that he was hurt.

He turned towards Hoseok. He had been giving the other the benefit of the doubt but enough was enough. “I’m not sure if you just didn’t notice or if you didn’t care what your words were doing do Jimin - either way I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tease him again. And please don’t mention his parents. If you really were a friend then you would know to better avoid that topic. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to make sure that the damage you did won’t lead to something even worse.”

Then he followed after Jimin with quick steps and his gut clenching in worry.

Jimin did what he knew best. Closing himself in the powder room of the venue, trying to catch his breath when it was getting more and more difficult to get air into his lungs. His knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the sink. It took him a minute to look up at himself, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes immediately. With shaking hands, he reached for his purse, taking out the ‘emergency’ concealer (that’s how his makeup artist called it) and applied some more. Jimin was telling himself, he just needed to fix this a little, to maybe get some cold water on his wrists, take a few more breaths then he would be fine. But it wasn’t that easy, while Jimin simply dabbed the few tears that were falling right into the crème under his eyes.

Namjoon knocked onto the bathroom door once, as a sign that he was coming in. There was no one else in there except him and Jimin and he was thankful because this way he could talk to him openly right away without having to worry about someone listening in on them. “Are you okay?” Jimin definitely didn’t look like it and it was rather a rhetorical question, a way to make Jimin talk on his own but of course the younger didn’t open up that easily so Namjoon continued after a short little while of silence. “You know that I don’t mind your past, don’t you? And no matter what someone else says about you it can’t make me stop loving you. There’s no need to hide in here. You can be proud of who you are.”

Jimin walked past Namjoon turning the lock on the door so no one else could come in and shrugged his shoulders. “I know, babe. I know you love me, and I can’t get rid of you anymore,” He chuckled quietly, leaning against the sink. “It’s just…,” Jimin turned to look over his shoulder and at his own reflection only to avert his gaze again. “I am on edge. I am exhausted. And I wanted this to be a good night. I’m already scared and anxious. I didn’t know he’d be here and maybe on any other day I’d be fine…but I wanted it to be perfect for you. I want to be perfect for you,” Jimin scoffed at himself and turned around to pack his stuff back into his purse, “I mean he’s true. I gained weight.” Jimin’s shoulders were hunched over, his voice getting quieter, “Just let me refresh, okay? I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Namjoon sighed deeply. He was glad that the younger was at least able to recognize that he would stay no matter what - but there was still something wrong or else he wouldn’t close himself off like this. “Jimin, if I wanted perfect I’d buy me a doll. I’m absolutely content with you being human which means you can’t possibly be perfect all the time. Although gaining weight is definitely nothing that I’d see as something that makes you ‘flawed’. You remember what I told you?” He tried to reach out for Jimin but hesitated when he noticed the tenseness in the other’s shoulder and the way he still wasn’t really looking at him, dabbing at his face. “If you really want a few minutes to collect yourself then that’s fine and I’ll go, but please, please don’t swallow your emotions down because you think that this is what I want. You don’t have to smile when you don’t feel like it, not with me.”

Jimin sniffled, thinking about what Namjoon said for a second, before he turned around and just wrapped his arms around his boyfriend neck and held onto him. “I’m just stressed out. I’m sorry, baby,” Nuzzling his face closer into his neck, Jimin just let himself fall, “I hate that people can make me doubt everything in a matter of seconds. Hoseok’s always been like this. He makes a competition out of everything and as soon as I find some happiness, he needs to chime in and destroy it. I didn’t know he would be here. And it’s worse when I am so on edge, so…I feel so…” He looked up at him, “Stiff. Unrelaxed. I wanted this to be a good evening. Just be with you, because I just missed you so much.” Caressing over Namjoon’s cheeks, Jimin let the tears fall on their own, “And I didn’t even really say ‘hi’ because I needed to hurry, because I feel asleep again and I was so nervous then…I’m the worst person.”

“Let’s just forget that something happened. The evening can still be nice. We’ll start with a clean slate when we go out the door, okay? No Hoseok's to tease you cause we simply won’t let him be mean to you again and there are also some sweets waiting for you, aren’t there? We’ll have a good time and you’ll collect some money for your good cause and in the end we will go home and be glad that we were here and talk about how nice it was and that we should definitely do this again. How does that sound?”

“No, not yet. I’m not…I’m not ready,” Jimin leaned his head onto Namjoon’s chest and let his hands fall down to his bottom. “I don’t want no sweets if they aren’t you. I’m not hungry anymore. Not for sweets.” Jimin mumbled and looked up with a pouty lip. “Also, I need to fix my makeup again. I can’t go out like this with my puffy red eyes and cheeks,” The model sighed and turned in Namjoon’s hold but not without stealing a kiss or two from him first. He giggled softly when a kiss was placed on his neck, searching for his powder and concealer again, before bending over a little to look at himself more closely in the mirror.

Namjoon swallowed hard at the way Jimin was suddenly flirting with him, right before bending over on purpose. “Are you trying to distract me? Because it’s working.” He confessed with a deadpan expression. Because Jimin held absolutely still while applying the concealer Namjoon could give his boyfriend a once over, admiring his cream colored, fluffy sweater again. Gently he rubbed his hands against the soft material, liking how it felt against his palms.

“Yes, from telling me that I shouldn’t worry about how I look, because I certainly do look fucked up,” He groaned and went ahead to fix his hair, letting Namjoon take his time to caress over his back and kiss his neck however he wanted, while he was eyeing his own reflection warily. As much as his touches were soothing him, his own reflection was ruining it for him again. “Joonie, they will notice. My eyes…, my cheeks… they are never this blushy red.” Jimin whined, biting his lip nervously, “Park Jimin cried in the bathroom. Or better: Boyfriend makes Park Jimin cry in the bathroom. What a great headline. You know they will see you walk in and out and then me with puffy red cheeks?” He turned again and pushed himself up on the counter to sit on, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’ll just stay here.”

Namjoon chuckled lightly. His hands dipped under the sweater, feeling if it was just as soft from the inside - or maybe he just wanted an excuse to touch Jimin’s warm, silky skin and distract the other from his own reflection. “We’re just going to tell them that I made you cry from pleasure - and that’s also why your cheeks are so red, from the heat and desire that was eating you alive while I had you right here in this luxurious bathroom.” He smirked amusedly at Jimin’s reaction. “You think Jin would like that headline? I mean he posted pictures of us in bed, this is just the next step, isn’t it?”

Jimin gasped and he wasn’t sure if it was from Namjoon’s hands under his skin or his sudden bold statement. Normally, Jimin was the one suggesting those kind of things and not Namjoon. He caressed through Namjoon’s hair, letting him step closer in between his legs. “I missed you so much,” It was only a whisper that got lost the moment he pressed his lips onto Namjoons. He deepened the kiss right away, wrapping his legs around his waist to pull him even closer. The physical closeness, Namjoon’s love and his warmth was always the best way to reassure Jimin. Words were fine, but the moment Namjoon touched him, so lovingly, so careful as if he was made out of porcelain, something so precious that he wanted to adore and look at forever, Jimin believed him. Kissing down his jawline and neck, Jimin unbuttoned Namjoon’s shirt, letting his hand sneak in to caress over his chest and feel his heartbeat underneath. “I don’t want to be away from you anymore. I’m aching too much without you, Joonie. Please, make me forget.” Jimin held still, his breath fanning against Namjoon’s lips.

It had turned heated way more quickly than expected and when Jimin was physically pulling him in he had to do his best not to get lost in this immediately. He would have never thought that Jimin would be in the mood for this, let alone be brave enough to risk a scandal.

“Wait, are we actually doing this? You know that Jin is going to kill me if anyone finds out that I’ve been fucking you in the bathroom on our very first official event together, something that you want to draw special attention to. Shouldn't we be out there and..- I don't know be seen doing proper ad respectable stuff?” While he tried to stay rational his body had a mind of his own and his lips found their way to Jimin's neck in between words, nipping gently at the soft skin.

“Then we just have to be quick. They are still eating out there, the official speech is in a half an hour.” Jimin shrugged his shoulders, moaning quietly at the feel of Namjoon’s lips on his soft skin. “And I can’t suck your dick, baby. It would ruin my make up even more.” He giggled softly, feeling a little bit more relaxed again. “I mean, we could also wait to get home tonight…but I’m not sure if I can do this. It would drive me insane.” His hand wandered down Namjoon’s chest and to his pants. “I want you to touch me, please.”

“I can do that.” Namjoon opened Jimin’s belt and without further warning took him in his hand. They rarely ever did quickies because Jimin liked the aftercare too much - and Namjoon just liked to get Jimin all hot and bothered before entering him but this was what they both wanted right now, the perfect mixture of excitement and distraction. “Well, if you can’t blow me we could switch positions and let me do the swallowing part. I might not look as pretty as you on my knees, but I bet I can make you come inside my mouth just as good as you can.”

Jimin gasped, his hand finding its way into Namjoon’s hair on his own when he gripped him tight, starting to jerk him off. “Joonie, please!” He leaned his head back, baring his neck beautifully in the process. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, Namjoon. Don’t say that!” Jimin kissed Namjoon hastily on his lips, then deeply again, just to add, “I only have eyes for you.” A smile pulled at his lip and Jimin leaned back against the mirror, his gaze following every movement from Namjoon, moans slipping from his lips that he tried to keep down. “Suck me off, baby…but only if you fuck me so hard right after that I will forget everything that happened the past hour.” Jimin smirked, his thumb caressing over his lip in a teasing manner.

Namjoon could feel the liquid heat running down his spine, and he closed his legs in a futile attempt to keep his own body under control. His pants started to get tighter which wasn’t that ideal when he was supposed to kneel in front of Jimin. “Deal.” He answered courtly, voice a little hoarse and full of unspoken promises. “Keep your eyes on me then. Just relax and watch me.” Jimin’s pants were so tight that he had to shuffle a little before he got them down but then the younger’s cock was bare and right in front of him. He sank down onto the tiles, wishing he had a cushion but considering that this was supposed to be quick and dirty he probably wouldn’t have to stay in this position for long.

Jimin’s knees were already shaking just from the view. It was rare for Namjoon to be in this position, but he loved it even more. And the moment Namjoon was sucking him for real, Jimin had to hold on to the sink to keep himself upright. “Fuck!” He pressed a hand over his mouth when he realized that it had been way too loud. “Oh, god, please,” Jimin moaned quietly. He couldn't stop watching his cock disappear inside Namjoon’s mouth, his eyes ever so often looking up at him. His heart pounded. Namjoon worked him beautifully, took him deep, then slowly released him inch by inch, making him shiver with the pleasure. With every thrust into his heavenly mouth he increased his tempo, while he brought his hand to assist, wrapping it around the base of his cock. Namjoon’s moans vibrated against his hard flesh, sending more shivers down his spine. It was easy to work Jimin up with his body already tense and aching for relief and his mind getting lost in the pleasure all too willingly. It was a beautiful scenery, Jimin above him, his sweet little gasps falling from red lips while his eyes close whenever Namjoons tongue catched on the head of the younger’s cock. He trailed his hands up the back of Jimin’s thighs, feeling the tremors in them as Jimin tried to suppress the urge to open them up wider - or press them together, depending on how fast or slow Namjoon was going at the moment.

Jimin watched Namjoon pull back, so his cock only grazed across his lips, swirling his tongue over the head. Once…twice…three times before he took him more fully into his mouth again driving Jimin absolutely nuts. His eyes closed and low shuddering groans shook his body as he sucked him in and out of his mouth. “Namjoon! I can’t last longer…I didn’t touch myself without you, I’m…fuck…so close, I missed you so much, “Jimin mumbled, not sure if anything was even making sense anymore. He thrusted into his mouth, while he smiled and peered up at him through his lashed. “I need you-,” Jimin choked on a moan, when his legs began to tremble and he was tangling his fingers into his hair, making Namjoon take him even deeper.

It was incredibly hot to see Jimin lose it like that, feel him shake and shudder, all because of him. It made him strangely proud to hear that Jimin didn’t even touch himself, that his body was only Namjoons and the thought of Jimin waiting for him, saving this part of him solely for Namjoon to see while he shared so many other aspects of his life with millions of people made his heart flutter in his chest. He pulled off when he felt like Jimin was about to come and had to smirk at the desperate whine the other made. “Don’t worry baby, you won’t have to wait long for your release. But I’d prefer it if you’d let me fuck you first. Don’t you want to come with me inside of you? I love it when you clench around you when you shake apart. It feels like heaven, every single time.”

Jimin let out a desperate moan when Namjoon slipped from him, but it was soon replaced by a smile and a giggle. He easily turned around, reaching for his bag once more, while Namjoon was pulling down his own pants, to finally let his own erection spring free. Jimin smirked at the view, handing Namjoon the little bottle of lube. “I told you it’s quite handy to have one in your bag. You never know if you stumble upon a stranger on airplane or just want your boyfriend to fuck you to heaven and back,” Licking over his lips, Jimin pulled Namjoon in by his collar again to kiss him heatedly.

“To heaven it is then…” Namjoon promised in between kisses, hiding his face in Jimin’s neck to stifle his moan when he touched himself, the lube cool and wet against his heated skin. He took Jimin by the hips and turned him around, gently nipping kisses into his neck. “Do you want to get out of those clothes before we start, or do you want to keep them on so that when we’re outside again you can think about how I’ve fucked you in them?”

Jimin quickly pulled his shirt over his head and then took off the dress shirt underneath. “It’s designer. No cum stains, remember? It’s only borrowed.” Jimin giggled and watched Namjoon take off his own in the mirror. He turned to look over his shoulder quickly, because as much as mirrors could be fun for some while they were having sex, Jimin rather not wanted to look at himself right now, still feeling a little too on edge about what Hoseok said. He bend over, leaning over the surface next to the sink to get a good hold. “I love you,” Jimin whispered sweetly, watching how Namjoon caresses over his bottom, squeezing him lightly.

Namjoons smile softened, “I love you too.” He kissed the tip of Jimin’s ear sweetly where he could reach, brushing through the youngers hair before leaning close. “I hope this will make our first event together as memorable as you wanted.” Then he pushed in, knowing that Jimin could take him like that, going for a quick and dirty pace that had both of them gasping right away.

Jimin closed his eyes in pleasure, his thighs trembling from the feel of Namjoon’s cock inside of him and as soon as he bottomed out, Jimin was fully shaking. He was breathless, his voice rough and Namjoon marveled at the fact that he was the one doing that. “Oh, please, oh god,” He bit his lip hard, his knuckles turning white from how hard he clutched the counter. Namjoon started to move, thrusting inside of him and Jimin pushed back every time he rammed into him, whining and moaning, telling him to go faster and to fuck him even harder and who was Namjoon not to obey?

They had long forgotten where they were and Jimin wasn’t exactly silent but it only spurred Namjoon on to give it to him harder. As Jimin had been so close to coming before he was pretty worked up already and Namjoon enjoyed dragging out those desperately little sounds and whimpers, trying to hit Jimin’s sweet spot every time he pushed in. His hand on Jimin’s hip kept the younger from writhing away when it got too much, and he could feel his boyfriend start to tighten around him. “That’s it baby, show me how good I make you feel… chase it, babe, come on my cock… let me feel your tightness around me... so good... you feel so fucking amazing like this.”

Jimin whimpered, the force of the thrusts making him jerk forward each time. It took a lot of strength for him to push back and hold himself up, when Namjoon was using all of his force. But he didn’t let himself be told twice. He tightened around Namjoon, dragging out a moan from the both of them. “Shut me up, please,” Jimin was searching for Namjoon’s hand, “Oh, fuck.”  He could feel himself shake and his hole tightened around his cock repeatedly, making him lose himself completely. He felt hot. Too hot. The pleasure rippling through him.

Namjoon pulled Jimin back flush against his chest, arms tight around the others waist as he was keeping him close. He loved to feel Jimin fall apart so close to him - and it also made it easier to stay inside while Jimin’s thighs were shaking like that. Namjoon continued to rock his hips into Jimin’s body, over and over, sweet and deep and slow, riding out Jimin’s orgasms together with him in rhythm with the youngers helpless pants. Namjoon’s name was the only thing on his mind right now, while Jimin was trembling in his hold, his eyes closed, soft little whimpers escaping him. He could feel the warm, hot cum inside of him and Namjoon’s groans right next to his ear were making him shiver from the intensity. “Oh, I’m…,” Jimin tried desperately to hold onto Namjoon, while he felt like his knees were giving up on him.

He felt utterly sated, warm and content like this, staying in their own little bubble not caring for whatever else happened out there. Namjoon carefully pulled out of Jimin but kept his close hold on him as he could feel how wobbly Jimin was on his feet. “Are you good? Did it help you to refocus?” He asked, half amused, half serious question. If Jimin felt grounded enough then they could clean themselves up and try to face the people in this event anew.

“N-no, I’m barely standing on my own feet right now,” Jimin was smiling nonetheless, “But as long as you keep holding me I’ll be fine.” He sighed softly, leaning his head back against Namjoon, when a sudden knock on the door made him jerk away. He completely had forgotten about where they were.

“I’m sorry, but are you taking longer? I’d like to use the bathroom!”

Jimin’s eyes widened and he pressed his hand onto his mouth to keep from laughing. He quickly entangled himself from his boyfriend, calling out for the other that he would be out in a few minutes. He ushered for Namjoon to be quiet, cleaning themselves up quickly and putting back on their clothes in a rush. “Just...just say nothing and just walk ahead, okay?” Jimin said and couldn’t help but suppress his giggles, checking himself in the mirror again, “Do I look okay? Normal?”

“Nope. You look breathtaking, as usual.” With another suppressed laugh coming from behind him he opened the door, walking out as if he hadn’t just totally misused the bathroom. They mingled with the other visitors before the speech started before returning to find a seat.

Hoseok was nowhere in sight.

Jimin’s hand found its way under the table over to Namjoon’s easily, lacing their fingers together as he listened to the ambassador talk about the charity attentively. Nonetheless he couldn’t help but peek over to Namjoon a couple of times, giggling and blushing at the same time. Jimin didn’t care about Hoseok anymore, his eyes were only on his boyfriend all night. He knew what he had with him was something special, something that he never wanted to miss out on again. And the last few weeks had only been showing him how important it was to keep on trying and working on this. Jimin squeezed Namjoon’s hand a little tighter, leaning his head on his shoulder. Their first event was quite the exciting experience and Namjoon would definitely never forget it. The speeches weren’t as uncomfortable as he had feared and Jimin even got to say a few sentences about the importance of their work. Jin was pleased as well because there were no negative headlines and only nice pictures and articles surfaces of them so to him they’d done an awesome job (and they would never let him in on how they had managed to make themselves smile for the whole evening, remembering their little tête a tête in the bathroom). Namjoon was still in awe about how fast the media was, scrolling through his phone, when Jimin snuggled back to his side in the bed that night. He easily put his arm around the younger, pulling him a little closer and kissing the top of his head. Namjoon would always remember that night...

…and the next morning.

“Joonie!” Jimin wiggled, sitting on his boyfriend waist with a big smile on his face, “Wake up, baby!” Namjoon sleepily blinked his eyes open and them rubbed them as he felt like he wasn’t seeing right.

There was a bunny sitting on top of him. With big white ears and Jimin's face.

Namjoon blinked again before his vision finally cleared. Jimin was wearing a headband, the ears on top of it partially white and fluffy and partially rose colored velvet on the inside of his ears. And he was smiling from ear to ear.

“Happy Easter, baby!” Jimin giggled and leaned forward to kiss the tip of Namjoon’s nose. “Did you forget?” Jimin only chuckled at that, very well aware of how easily Namjoon forget about these kind of things especially with what happened the last month. They had better things to do than worry about Easter. But Jimin on the other hand, had worried about something else for weeks now. Something that he wanted to ask Namjoon for a while now and never had the guts to and the festive day was the perfect way to do so. Kissing along Namjoon’s jawline and neck, Jimin mumbled sweet ‘I love you’s’ against his skin. “I have something for you! But it’s hidden!” Jimin pointed at his ears and teasingly wiggled on Namjoon’s lap one more time, “You need to go and find it.”

He laughed, his boyfriends excitement a little contagious. He normally didn't really celebrate Easter, so he hadn't expected Jimin to hide something for him but seeing how much Jimin was looking forward to this he got curious. “If its chocolate eggs then I hope you didn't hide them where I can step on or sit down on them. With my luck I would only collect chocolate bits melted into fabric.”

Jimin shook his head with a smile ushering Namjoon to get up from the bed and pulling him along. “I have to disappoint you, but I already ate everything chocolate covered…so…there’s something else hidden for you.” He said and came to a halt in his living room, holding onto Namjoon’s hand. “I love you,” Jimin whispered against his lips one more time, jumping a little in his joy making him seem more like a bunny. “Hm, then I know a way to get my share,” He kissed Jimin deeply, tasting the chocolate on the others tongue. Before he could get too distracted though Jimin stepped aside and left him to his Easter egg search. “How will I know what I find is what you've hidden for me? How do I recognize it as mine?” For all he knew he could accidentally find Jimin's hidden porn stash - or his emergency sweets.

“It is wrapped in a white bow,” Jimin answered, “You’ll find it. I’m sure. There are a few little things leading you up to it.” He ushered Namjoon to go and only when the other was still hesitating, he added, “I will tell you if you’re cold or warm, okay?” Although he was sure that Namjoon would find it soon enough without needing too many guidance. Jimin could see a hidden, colored egg from where they were standing right now, and his apartment wasn’t too big in the end.

“White bow, I see...” Namjoon turned around on the spot trying to get a feel about where he should start. If he didn’t find anything he could still take a bow and wrap it around Jimin. Or charm the other into giving him a few more hints. Carefully he stepped towards a bookshelf, stopping right away when Jimin coughed. “Does that mean hot now or cold?”

“Cold!” Jimin giggled and jumped up on the sofa, watching Namjoon stumble around the living room in his sweatpants only. Jimin had the perfect view, shouting a few ‘warm’ or ‘cold’s in between and just having fun, seeing Namjoon get more and more ambitious the more things he found. “Still no bow?” Jimin cocked up an eyebrow, “Do you need a hint?” When his boyfriend nodded, Jimin hummed in response, tipping his finger against his chin, “You’re pretty close already…but, do you remember what hair color I had when we first met?”

Namjoon looked around. “I can’t find any fire extinguisher in your living room!” He grinned when Jimin pouted. Of course, he’d never forget the fiery orange Jimin had sported on the flight that they had met. There weren’t that much orange things in the room they were in, just the back of a book in the shelf but he already knew that nothing was there, then a cushion in orange and red hues that he had already lifted and found nothing under - and of course the painting on the wall that showed a sunset in warm colors, including lots of orange. “There?” He got closer, wondering if he would have to look behind the painting for a card maybe or if he should better get back to the cushion and shake it as maybe something was inside the cover when he spotted the plant next to the painting. It looked a little perkier than usual. Namjoon reached out for it and through the leafy green he could already see that there was something white underneath.

Jimin got on his knees, shuffling closer to the edge of the couch and observing Namjoon with his heart beating into overdrive. He had no idea how Namjoon would react. Maybe this was too soon. Or something that Namjoon hated. Now that he was thinking about it more, Jimin paled visibly. He took in a sharp breath, when his boyfriend got out the little box with a white bow wrapped around it. His heart stopped. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Jimin was losing his mind while his wide eyes followed every little movement of Joon’s fingers unwrapping the bow, his own tightening his hold around the cushion and turning his knuckles white.

There was a little colorful box in the pot, shaped like an egg and at first Namjoon thought this was the present because it looked really cute and you could open it and maybe store something nice in it, so he opened it to take a look at the inside which was all black velvet and looked even more gorgeous... and there was already something inside. On the dark fabric there was a shiny key with a ribbon on it. Carefully Namjoon took it out and let it gleam in the morning light that fell through the window. “What is it for? Or is it something symbolic, like the key to your heart?”

Either way, he liked it.

Jimin took one deep breath, closing his eyes to gather himself before literally stumbling over his words as they rushed out of him, “It’s….It’s a key to an apartment downtown! It’s a lot closer to your company and though it will take me a bit longer to the agency – I don’t care. Because… It’s a lot bigger than what I have now. A lot more rooms and it’s in this apartment complex that I really like where you could overview the whole city…and I know you’d never go anywhere too far away from what you have now. And it annoys you to drive all the way here each time. It’s stressful. And I understand that. Maybe it’s dumb. Maybe I am rushing this. Or maybe you don’t even like it this much. Is it too much? It’s too much right? But…all I want is to come home to you. I just… I want… WILLYOUMOVEINWITHME?”

Namjoon stared dumbfoundedly at his boyfriend who looked as if he wanted to hide right now, cheeks flushed and face cautious. “You want me…want us to live together? In an apartment that you’ve rented?” He repeated, just to be sure that he had heard right, and this wasn’t some big misunderstanding, “And this here is the key to the door because… we will live there together?” Later he would be embarrassed at his own lack of eloquence but Jimin had caught him completely by surprise. A really overwhelming kind of surprise. But a positive kind as well.

“When can I see it?” His eyes lit up when it finally sunk in, that Jimin had put all this effort in this to find them the perfect apartment so that there wouldn’t be long drives in the middle of the night or early in the morning anymore because one of them had stayed over at the other and needed to get back in time for work. And it also solved the cuddle-dilemma. “Admit it, you just wanted to have your personal plushy for every night.” And he didn’t mind at all.

Jimin stared up at Namjoon wide eyed, when a smile stole it’s way on his face as he realized that Namjoon wanted to move in with him. He really wanted to. With bunny ears still on his head, he jumped over to Namjoon and hugged his boyfriend tight, leaning in to kiss him softly, pouring in all the love. “Maybe! But to answer your question: we can go and look at it after breakfast if you want? Only the interior designer is there tonight. But you have to have a talk with him anyways about your new office,” Jimin said and wrapped his hands around Namjoon’s neck, “You really want to do this? With me?”

“You know I really like this key. And if it comes with an apartment and your clingy sleeping habit every night then I guess I’ll have to live with that.” His broad smile gave away that he was teasing and because he knew that Jimin probably needed to hear him say it for real to believe it he added. “Yes. I do. You won’t get rid of me anyway so we can just save money and move in with each other. Money and gasoline and nerves and heaters and work outs.” He winked at him.

Jimin leaned his head against Namjoon’s chest while he had his arms wrapped around his waist. “It sounds perfect,” He sighed and let his hand fall down to lace their fingers together, before his expression turned flirty and a smirk appeared on his lips. “We could start with the work-outs right now. Just so…you know…so we get used to the training. You should ease yourself into it, right?” Jimin bit his lip and pulled Namjoon along, “Oh, did I mention there will be two master bedrooms?”

Namjoon chuckled at that, happily following after his very special Easter bunny.

A/N: Yay, finally it’s out! The long awaited sequel to ‘Mile High Valentine Club’! We hope you liked the little fluffy insight into the life of Minjoon in this AU ;) Don’t forget to leave us a comment down below...maybe next Holiday you’ll get another story about them - who knows (but nothing is planned, yet). Thank you so much for reading! We love you guys!

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[featherypromises]

Uncomfortable

Hi everyone:

Here is another older plot idea from forever ago. Hobi isn’t feeling well. Fortunately someone else is great at caretaking… He just doesn’t have much of a bedside manner. This is based of irl events: https://youtu.be/FLnNdBDQW2A

Uncomfortable:

Sickie: Hoseok

Caretaker: Yoongi

Hoseok woke up feeling groggy and congested; not at all like his sunshiney self. He sniffled thickly and cleared his throat. He touched his throat gingerly, feeling the slightly swollen flesh where his neck and chin met. He must be coming down with something.

He sighed. This was not a good time for him to get sick, (not that there ever really was one) but, here he was. He looked at his clock rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 7:15am, that was abysmally early. They had a photoshoot today too for their upcoming tour. Hoseok ran his hand through his rose tinted hair and rubbed his nose.

The photoshoot was due to begin at 10am, he had about 2 hours to become his normal self so that the shoot wouldn’t be compromised. He couldn’t let the others know either. After his bout with pneumonia late last year, his every cough and sniffle had been fussed over by the others, especially the maknae line. There was too much at stake with the next tour looming ahead. No free time to push back a photoshoot because one member had the sniffles. It was the first week of February already. The next 2 weeks would be a blur of dance practices, costume fittings and song hearsals.  

A shower first, he decided. A hot one, to get rid of this miserable congestion and wake him up. The others wouldn’t be up for another hour at the earliest. This was the best time to go, he could take his time getting ready. He sniffled  futilely, unable to breathe through his nose even for that small purpose.

He grabbed a simple change of clothes, a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a dark hoodie, and crept from his room. He got to the restroom and opened the door onto a sleepy and dumbstruck Yoongi.

“Yah! Hope!!! Shit! Could you knock?!?” he squawked. He was using the restroom for its traditional purpose. Hoseok flushed bright red. 

“Doors have locks for a reason, Hyug!” he retorted, embarrassed. He closed the door again quickly, and stifled a quiet cough into his elbow. He would just have to wait. He had thought for sure that none of the others would be awake yet, but he hadn’t counted on Suga-hyung’s penchant for not sleeping when he was in work mode.

While he was still kicking himself, Yoongi emerged from the bathroom. Yoongi rubbed his face with both hands, only half awake. Hoseok stammered out a soft apology for barging in. Yoongi looked at him oddly. 

“Yah,... are you… you know… okay?” Yoongi asked hesitatingly. Hoseok blinked at him, surprised. How the hell?... No, it was a guess… It had to be. Probably he was referring the sassy sentence that had automatically fell from his lips before he had even considered what he had said. It wasn’t like him to be that snippy with Yoongi. 

Hoseok plastered a smile onto his face. “Yeah… It’s all good.” He avoided saying anything that would give away how congested he was, “I have to shower, if that’s okay?...” 

Yoongi’s eyes lingered a moment longer on Hoseok’s face. 

“Okay, Hope… I’ll see you later…” 

Hoseok nodded and ducked into the bathroom closing the door, but saw Yoongi tilt his head to the side as though he was thinking hard. 

He tried to put the uncomfortable thought that his closest friend might be onto to him out of his head. He spent nearly a half an hour under the hot water, feeling his congestion begin to loosen. His straight, chiseled nose almost buzzed with the change in pressure. He leaned against the wall with both hands and planted his feet. His breath came in short, breathy hitches.

“Hh-HAHT-Schhiiih! Eh-HEH-EH-HUH-Chhiii! ESHiiiih! Ugh…” He felt his nose drip and wiped away the mucus with the side of one hand, rinsing it clean under the stream of water. He sniffled and was pleased to find that he could breathe  through his nose again. The steam and sneezes had finally released the mucus and pressure that had plugged up his head. Hoseok sighed, relieved. Maybe, just maybe, he would get through this cold without a lot of unnecessary drama.

He went back to his room, wiping a slightly runny nose. He went to his desk to begin to apply concealer under his eyes… his dark circles were very prominent and his nose was beginning to get red around the rims of his nostrils… ugh, it was dripping again. He automatically reached for the roll of toilet paper that he had put there to deal with make-up spills. 

It wasn’t there. He frowned, sniffling. Hoseok’s hand hit cardboard instead. He glanced over. Tissues?!? When had he bought those? His nose decided that it didn’t matter. 

“Eh-Heh-HAHT’Schiiii! EhTcchhiii!” He snatched two from the box, and blew his nose. Whoa! these weren’t normal tissues, they were too soft… He looked at the box. He hadn’t bought these… Where had they come from?!? He decided that Seokjin must have purchased the wrong ones the last time he was at the store.

Hoseok applied enough concealer and foundation to cover his red nose and tired eyes. He sniffled, luckily his nose was just runny and hadn’t gotten stuffy again. He looked to the clock again, and jumped.

“9am!!! When did that happen?” Hoseok gasped and raced out of his room. Everyone else was dressed and waiting downstairs. 

“What happened Hobi-yah? Did you oversleep?” asked Seokjin with a laugh.

“Yeah, I just have to go brush my teeth. Do we have enough time?” He was nearly breathlessly and cleared his throat with a wince. No one seemed to notice… well, almost no one. Hoseok was sure that he saw Yoongi looking in his direction for an instance.

“You have time. “ Yoongi said softly, “Go.” Hobi smiled gratefully at his hyung and went. He quickly began to brush his teeth, but somehow the minty toothpaste started to irritate his throat. Hoseok coughed and choked. He fought to stay quiet and eventually stopped, but his throat ached now and his voice was failing. That would be a dead giveaway.  

He let out a frustrated huff of annoyance and put up his toothbrush. A red bag caught his eye. Cough drops? Cherry cough drops? No way! This really was impossible! Seokjin-hyung had vowed never to purchase Cherry flavored cough drops, saying that they weren’t as effective as the lemon and honey variety. And there, behind the red bag, was the yellow bag of the most revolting flavor of cough drops ever created.

Something was weird here… super lotiony tissues and the only flavor of cough drops that didn’t make him want to throw up? What the heck? He shoved one drop into his mouth and a few extras into his pocket. 

He went back out to the others, looking at them curiously. He couldn’t just come right out and ask them. He would just have to watch for any odd behavior. 

They all piled into the van and headed to the studio. They quickly got into their outfits and had their makeup applied. Hoseok’s photoshoot was with Yoongi. Hoseok was dressed in a black t-shirt under an offwhite jumpsuit with pink roses that matched his hair Yoongi’s black hair was contrasted with the white shirt over a black t-shirt and kneeless black pants, with a black ribbon for a choker that dangled from the side of his neck.

Hoseok was stunned by the set. It looked as though they were inside a cloudbank or a cotton candy machine. The surrounding colors were pastels of pinks, purples, and blues. Fluffy piles of cloud like material was everywhere. In the center was an elegant wicker egg shaped swing lined with pillows. Yoongi-hyung took the left side and reclined in it for his solo shots. Once those were finished, Hobi joined him sitting on the right. 

He sighed, he was getting congested again. He sniffled and realized that he had no choice but to breathe through his mouth. At least his nose wasn’t dripping and ruining his makeup. 

Yoongi shifted away during the shoot, trying to lean away from him. His smile was so fake it was nearly see through. Finally the photographer asked him what was wrong. Without preamble, Yoongi pointed to Hobi and said, 

“He must have a severe cold. His breathing is rough." Hoseok's eyes widened, and he pointed at himself, 

“Mbe?” Yoongi nodded,

"It's making me uncomfortable."

"Sorry, it's because I have a cold." Hoseok admitted reluctantly to the staff. He blushed and began to entertain himself with playing with the cloud-fluff. He shaped it into hearts, made himself a hat, and eventually resorted to making mustaches for both of them. 

Yoongi started to laugh and thawed out. They completed the shoot and Hobi moved on to his solo shots. Once he had finished, Hoseok sought Yoongi out. 

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

“What are you talking about right now?” Yoongi muttered awkwardly. 

“The tissues and the cherry cough drops. How did you know I was sick? Hell, how did you find the time to get those?” Hoseok asked, feeling sure he had it right. It must have been Yoongi looking out for him all along.

Yoongi blushed and mumbled about something.

Hoseok persisted, 

“What was that?”

“WHEN YOU'RE SICK IT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE!” Yoongi repeated loudly.

Hoseok knew Yoongi well enough to read between the lines.

“Thank you, Hyung! Those things really helped!” He grinned and rubbed at his nose. Yoongi fished in his pocket and pulled out a travel tissue packet and thrust it at Hoseok without even looking at him. The older rapper’s face turned a bright pink. 

Caring was caring, even if it was uncomfortable.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

Chat: Jo + Gray romcoms

(for lexy)

Jo> She likes pointless fluff movies. I’m being told I have to watch Friends With Benefits next after I finish the last 20 mins of the first half of this series

Jo> :l

Jo> *actually doesnt mind that movie just finds it hysterical Jo does*

Grey> Is Friends with Benefits the one with Mila Kunis?

Jo> Yep

Grey> Who’s the male lead in that?

Jo> Justin Timberlake

Grey> Ah

Jo> It’s kind of hilarious that Jo likes that movie

Grey> Because of how she is about relationships?

Jo> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_CVAI_twO0 and then http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XA6M-V4oHso first 20 seconds just… kind of amazingly hilarious.

Jo> She’s somewhere between or actually boh main characters at once

Jo> (Also the Train in the background of the first cracks me up)

Grey> TRAIN IN THE BACKGROUND LOL

Jo> Yeeeep

Grey> You linked me the sex scene? LOL *signs in*

Jo> Its the end of the crappy romcom movie that the girl wanted to watch and the guy spent the entire time paying out.

Jo> LOL

Jo> Yes

Jo> Because

Jo> First 20 seconds is magic

Jo> …hell the entire thing is magic

Jo> And hilariously like if Jo were a guy and a girl at the same time

Jo> honest to god

Grey> “I sneeze sometimes after I come” *drink everywhere*

Jo> Wait for it

Grey> HES SINGING

Jo> LOL

Grey> “WHOA TOO FAR”

Jo> “When women start to scream it can me misconstrued”

Grey> *dead*

Grey> So much for just once

Jo> LOL Yeeeep.

Jo> Can you see kind of where I get my amusement from?

Grey> Yep

Jo> “Grab my hair.” “Kiss my neck”

Grey> *dies at butt part*

Jo> *nodnod*

Grey> Oh my god

Grey> Oh man mom walking in at the end

Jo> Lol yep

Jo> I find so much fucking amusement from that movie and the fact it’s number 3 on Jo’s fave ‘romcom’s

Grey> What are the first two?

Jo> Pretty Woman and Miss Congeniality

Grey> Awwwww Miss Congeniality. "So her top favorites are about a hooker finding a sugar daddy, a tomboy becoming a barbie doll and two friends fucking?“ Gray that’s not… no.

Jo> "Got a problem with that?” Gray. Darling. No… …though he has a point but no…

Grey> “Other than your taste in movies is shit. No.” He’s got the air of implying about him.

Jo> “…I’m just glad it was top three then, I’m sure you’d find the next two just as shit…” Jo is well aware the implication and I am snickering my head off

Grey> “And what are those, Legally Blonde and The House Bunny?” *pets her*

Jo> “…no. Clueless and a tie between 500 Days of Summer and Runaway Bride….

Jo> ” She knows how bad those are, but theyre better than Legally Blonde and House Bunny at least. (What’s Your Number, Stardust, Legally Blonde, You’ve Got Mail and Sleepless In Seattle round out the top ten though)

Grey> “*snickering*” Yeah. The House Bunny is shit but Legally Blonde isn’t bad imo. It’s got Matt Davis in it for one so…

Jo> “…oh go ahead. Say it.” Lol yeah House Bunny is. Legally Blonde’s pretty alright - the second is dreadful though.

Grey> “Say what that you have horrible picks and clearly just want some guy to swoop in a rescue you?” Second one doesnt exist in my mind. Because I like the first one too much to admit it.

Jo> “You just don’t like romantic comedies and most of those involve free thinking, independent women who can survive all on their own without a man…sorta.” LOL I cried my way through it. In pain.

Grey> “Except they all end up with a guy and the whole plot of them is either "fucks a dude and keeps fucking him” or “discovers she’s ladylike after all”.“ I saw it on tv once, attempted to watch then switched the channel 5 minutes in because it was hurting

Jo> "Pretty Woman is about how you aren’t just your job - that there is more to a person than just that; Miss Congeniality is about doing the right thing, and that everyone can be more than what their intial appearance might suggest; FoB is about how… sometimes worrying about the labels of things can ruin something that’s working and that …getting over that shit’s for the best…” It’s dreadful..

Grey> “Uh huh.” Yeah I dont know what charm the first one has that the second one is missing but you can definitely tell it’s missing it. Same with Miss Congeniality, first movie is cute second movie makes you want to tear out your eyes

Jo> (Oh god, I just realised the girl in Friends with Benefits at the start is going to go see Pretty Woman at the cinema as some romcom weeklong thing and her then bf dumps her out front and she’s already missed the boots)

Grey> *DEAD*

Jo> “…shut up, alright. God, a girl is allowed to like pointless fluff sometimes!” LOL So so true. The same goes for Bring It On. *crying at this movie again now*

Jo> (“You know I love this movie! If a prostitute and a ruthless businessman who fall in love, then anyone can. *wistful sigh/tone*” *dying*)

Grey> “I would think you get enough of that with the runt.” Oh my god that’s hilarious

Jo> “…I think your brother knows better than to..freak me out with that sort of thing. Reality, fiction, don’t cross the streams..much.” I know. I forgot it and now Im dead.

Grey> “So he’s not constantly trying to bring you flowers or jewelry or anyt of that other crap? I’m surprised he has so much restraint.” No wonder Jo likes the movie

Jo> “No, he’s not. Seems you don’t know him quite as well as you think…” Oh yeah. … http://youtu.be/GvBNVJjhj4Q?t=11s Just… start o the film is pretty much this. And yep. It totally does.

Grey> “Or he doesn’t like you as much as he says he does.” I feel bad for Justin’s character cause that bitch crazy

Grey> “Next time just shit on my face cause that’s the same thing” no it isnt lady

Jo> Wait for the explanation of Mila’s character

Grey> WOW Andy’s a dick

Jo> LOL Yuuuuup

Grey> *spit take at Justin*

Jo> Just wait

Jo> It gets more

Grey> *DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD*

Jo> “Or maybe he likes me as much as he says he does and doesn’t want me to feel uncomfortable or pressured and is making sure I’m okay with things.” I KNOW RIGHT?! AND THATS JUST THE FIRST THREE MINUTES OF THE MOVIE

Grey> “If he liked you as much as he said, he’d get you flowers. Because that’s what Grey does, flowers and chocolate and bubble baths with candles and rose petals and all the other lame shit because that’s what he does, he does the lame "romantic” crap and he likes doing that. So he either doesnt actually care that much or he’s completely terrified of you and is too scared to even approach the matter"

Grey> That’s hilarious

Grey> Especially Justin’s just completely lunatic of the girlfriend. Like Mina’s guy was just lazy and a jerk but Justin’s girl was fucking monkeynuts crazy

Jo> “He would not - he might want to, but right now? He wouldn’t. I prefer non-materialistic things anyway so…” I know. She’s amazing. She keeps calling too. I seriously recommend it if you have a few hours to spare or fill or are bored sometime because that movie is just great. Better than No Strings (the Portman/Kutcher one)

Grey> “If he wouldnt its because you’re scaring him. But hey if you’re cool with him being too scared to say what he wants then….” It does look a lot funnier than Natalie’s

Jo> “I am not /scaring/ him. He knows he can say whatever he likes to me or bring up stuff…. …” It is. I’ve seen both several times, Friends With is much better. The original Coke to Nat’s new.

Grey> “Sure he does. That’s why he didn’t tell you he loved you for the longest time. Because he’s totally not afraid to talk to you.” I feel like I should just watch both then Black Swan to mindfuck myself but I can’t right now lol

Jo> “He does, and… that’s none of your business, and it wasn’t 'the longest time’, was barely three months after..” LOL Oh god that would be dreadful.

Grey> “Uh huh. And he hasnt really said it again has he?” Yep it would

Jo> “He has too. …a few times.” Brainfuck indeed.

Grey> “And I bet you know exactly how many because it doesnt happen a lot.” Completely

Jo> “…your point being? People don’t have to say they love one another all the time, I’m sure you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve said it.”

Grey> “Because I’m a arrogant asshole monster who doesn’t really give two shits to get emotional about things. Does that sound like Grey to you?”

Jo> “…no. Sounds a little like me though, so instead - how often has Anna said it to you, huh? Just because he doesn’t say it often doesn’t mean he doesn’t know he can ask about things or talk about stuff.”

Grey> “More than five times less than twenty. He’s stupid though, how would you know he knew he could ask if he doesnt feel like he could say it? Doesnt matter now I guess with that collar on you he’ll be too freaked out to do much of anything”

Jo> “..Oh. ….Because he knows me? Because neither of us is going to judge or fly off the handle? Because I haven’t gone running yet? ….shut up, fuck you.”

Grey> “If he knows you he knows that your terrified of getting attached and won’t bring it up for fear of driving you away. I’m just stating facts.”

Jo> “Otherwise known as caring and respecting a loved ones boundaries. And you say that like we’re not attached, because we are, so shove off. …you’re being a dick with the truth.”

Grey> “Otherwise known as being spineless. Wait until he wants to get married then see how attached you are. Better than just being a dick right?”

Jo> “There’s a difference - one is being respectful, the other has no basis other than fear for it. …. ………. Let’s not talk about that, ever, again. Oh shut up..”

Grey> “So how do you know he’s doing it out of respect instead of fear? Just wait.”

Jo> “Because, I just do. …And I said again…”

Grey> “Uh huh. You’re going to run when you see that little box.”

Jo> “…. ….I’m not going to run..” Mental commentary: “I’m going to politely say I need time to think, excuse myself and go hide under the covers. The fastest will be a brisk walk. Yes. No running. It’d be fine.”

Grey> “Yes you are. Watching him bend his knee and go into his pocket for it is just going to scare you so badly you’re going to take off running like a scared deer.” Awwww poor Jo

Jo> “No. I’m… I have more restraint than that even if that /isn’t/ my response.” Think she’d feel bad for it but..unless she suggests it she’ll probably freak.

Grey> “You’re right, cause he’s probably going to do it in public. You wouldnt want to make a scene. All those eyes on you expecting to say yes especially his when he looks so happy and expectant.” He wouldnt ask. I mean like… probably never unless they actually had a kid. Because he knows it wouldnt work

Jo> ( http://youtu.be/VIirTZQWJBg?t=30s *crying* Guess Jo has a penis where her vaginas supposed to be)

Grey> (SO DEAD. Oh Woody Harrelson you are always hilarious)

Jo> “…shut up. How do you know the answer would be no? Or that I wouldn’t be the one askin’? Everyone’s always calling me the boy of us…” Cue gray laughing head off. And yeah, no - I’d figured he probably wouldn’t, what’s sad is a marriage would work but proposing the idea wouldnt. (IKR? He’s a gay sports writer)

Grey> “Because you don’t do commitment? You… ask him… *laughing*” *nods* He’d figure they couldnt therefore wouldnt ask unless its a kid in which case he’d feel like “this is a family now” and ask. (He’s hilarious. I lost it)

Jo> “I do sometimes. …. *tries not to laugh as well* Yeah, okay shut up..” Yep - which I think he might be able to get a yes if he didn’t say it was cause she was preg or had had a baby, mde the family comment instead. (LOL Yeeep)

Grey> “Fine. That was funny enough I’ll shut up. *still laughing*” *nods* I think his approach would be something like “I’d like for us to be a family. And I want to be officially part of that family.” Plus that way if something happens to Jo the kids stay with him. (Armpit girl? Do I even want to know…)

Jo> ( http://youtu.be/GJucbfuvh-A armpit girl)

Grey> (Oh Justin baby what is it with you and crazy broads)

Jo> “Glad you enjoyed it… *fails at holding back a giggle* Okay seriously, I’m not that bad.. or I’m not the worst, so shuddup.” Yeah, that would actually probably work. (Yeeeep)

Grey> “Not the worst? Right okay compared to like me or something.” And of course Grey would have the sense enough not to try to make a big affair of it, nor would he want to

Jo> “There are worse people out there without going straight to you, Gray.” Yep yep - big affair woul get a no.

Jo> (Oh god, I forgot the guy in this has a stutter when he was nervous)

Grey> “*indignantly* Are not. I’m the worst. End of discussion.” *slaps Gray for wanting to look like the horrible monster again* I think the closest he’d come to that was asking if she wanted her mother there or any close friends. (So dead)

Jo> “Sure thing, I just meant there were people between the two of us on the worse scale is all.” *snickers at him* lol true true. Knowing Jo she’d not want much, or until after. (Yeeep)

Grey> “Nope. You’re close enough to me there’s no one left between us.” *nods* Jesse go to bed jo harvelle gray chat complete Aug 21st, 2012

[justimajin]

A Germ-Filled Celebration

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1.7k

Summary: A small birthday drabble for the birthday boy ♡

Grasping the decorative bag in your hands tighter, you patiently wait for the door to open, feeling so excited as time passed. You had prepared everything on your list for the day – a birthday cake and a birthday present that would knock Jungkook’s socks off. You had then planned to take him out for a while, hitting up his favourite arcade where the rest of his friends would celebrate with you. You had spent majority of the past few days with preparations, carefully planning this all out.

Everything was perfectly set for the special occasion, you just needed one more thing for it to be complete.

Jeon Jungkook.

The door slowly creaks open and the excited look on your face is instantly wiped off, Jungkook sheepishly smiling at you.

He lets out a low cough, covering his mouth at the action. He’s still in his pajama’s, hair sticking up in random places and a large black blanket covers majority of his body. There are dark circles around his eyes and his nose glows a bright pink, sniffling occasionally.

In short, he looked absolutely terrible.

“Jungkook what happened?” You whisper, his state bringing concern to you.

“I-I’m sorry Y/N, this is all Taehyung’s fault, he wouldn’t stop sneezing around me and well,” He sighs, “I’m sick.”

“You can go home Y/N, I don’t want you catching it too.” He adds on, slowly closing the door.

You stick your foot right in the middle of the door, preventing him from closing it. You look straight into Jungkook’s weak eyes, determination being ignited in your own.

“Oh hell no.” You fume. “It’s your birthday plus you’re sick, and you expect me to leave?!” Jungkook flinches at the loud sound from your voice, leaving the door open. You walk straight in and shut it, turning your attention to him. Reaching your hand out, much to Jungkook’s protesting, you place it on his forehead and raise your eyebrows. 

“Ok mister you definitely need some help you’re boiling hot right now!” You drag him over to the couch, gesturing for him to lie down.

“Mm I’m boiling hot Y/N?” He mumbles and chuckles, before breaking out into another coughing spree. Lying him down, you wrap a blanket securely around him. You send a quick text to the others, letting them know Jungkook was sick and wasn’t able to go out to celebrate his birthday today.

Grabbing a bowl of cold water, you take some small rags and dip them into the coolness. Placing them gently on Jungkook’s head, he dozes off and you excuse yourself into his kitchen.

Looking around his cupboards you realize just how much junk food Jungkook actually eats, finding nothing but cookies and bags of chips everywhere. Letting out a sigh, you’re not surprised he got sick, never taking proper care of himself. After endless searching, you finally stumble upon some random vegetables in his fridge – opting to make some type of soup with them. Getting a hot pot ready, you chop the vegetables up, mixing and matching them in the process due to not having exact ingredients. You pray it ends up tasting good enough, because you honestly had no clue what you were doing.

Pouring some into a bowl, you make your way to Jungkook who appears to be in a deep slumber on the couch.

“Jungkook.” You whisper, but his eyes remain closed, softly snoring.

“Jungkook!” You try to say a little louder, but it has no effect.

Sighing, you take a rather different approach, “Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.” You repeatedly say, while continuously poking him.

“Hmm...” He turns away from your annoying poking, but you don’t stop. You’re glad he’s getting some rest, but he probably hasn’t eaten anything.

He keeps moving away from you and you decide to use your final attempt. He immediately reacts, squirming around when you start tickling him and when you reach his neck, small giggles leave his mouth.

“Okay okay I’m awake!” He declares through half lidded eyes.

“Here.” You pass him the huge bowl, filled with whatever healthy thing you could possibly find in his fridge. He stares at it for a moment, but he visibly gulps.

“Y-you made this?” He says, completely unsure and looking utterly terrified. You nod, and his eyes widen, staring back at the concoction.

“Jungkook!” You yell, when he’s still staring at it for far too long with doubt on his face.

Deeply sighing, he takes a spoonful, praying in his head.

He was going to kill Taehyung for getting him into this.

He quickly consumes it, letting it run down his throat and he prepares himself for the awful taste to hit him. However, he finds himself licking his lips and wanting to taste more of the delicious mixture. The words he never thought he would say, leave his mouth.

“I-It’s good…” He whispers in disbelief, and a huge grin makes an appearance on you.

“See?! It’s not bad at all!” To be honest, you were surprised too. Jungkook and you both knew how bad you were at cooking, and it was the only reason he always kept you out of the kitchen. However, today you got a chance at making something for him and although you don’t know what the hell you put in it, you’re glad he’s enjoying it.

Jungkook finishes all of the soup in an instant, sitting back in content. You’re basking in the glory of finally cooking for him and for the fact that he was feeling much better than usual. Putting his bowl back in the kitchen, you come back to see him slightly shivering.

“Y/N I’m cold…” He whines, opening the blanket up for you to come join him.

“Oh no, forget it Jungkook I am not getting sick.” As much as you wanted to go, you knew you couldn’t risk yourself getting sick and not being able to take care of him.

“But Y/N! It’s my birthday today…” He looks at you with doe eyes and you find yourself caving in, feeling bad instantly.

“UGH FINE.” Mumbling how you were going to get Taehyung back for this, you slip underneath the blanket and Jungkook cozies himself next to you.

“Ahh so much warmer~” He hums, and you have to admit you were enjoying snuggling up with him like this. Jungkook closes his eyes and so do you, feeling sleep dragging you away.

However, sleep wasn’t the cause of it. You feel yourself slipping down and you realize the couch can’t accommodate for the both of you, so you fall down and grab Jungkook – dragging him alongside with you.

“Ow…” You say, landing gracefully on your behind. You turn to see Jungkook still glued to you, his eyes closed, and you wonder how he possibly was able to remain asleep like this.

You know there’s no way you could convince him to get up and instead decide to just screw it, falling asleep on the floor and in a mess of Jungkook’s blanket.

***

You stir awake when you hear Jungkook’s alarm blare out, and he reaches over to turn it off. He appears to look much better, no more like the lifeless person you saw when you first entered his apartment.

“Good morning.” He says, stretching his arms.

“Morning.” You let out a small yawn, feeling exhausted.

“That soup was actually great, I feel way better.”

“And this is why my cooking is good.” You scoff.

“Then why don’t you try some?” He sneers.

“That would be cross-contamination!! I am not getting sick.” You protest, and he chuckles, before leaning in and pecking a sweet kiss on your lips.

“What were you saying about cross-contamination?” He smirks, and your jaw is wide open.

“You just kissed me?! Oh my god I need to rinse my mouth and get rid of the germs before they infect me.” You attempt to head towards his bathroom, but his arm keeps you pinned down.

“I’ll be cold if you leave.” He whines, and you thrash against his arms.

“I have germs in my mouth, I have germs in my mouth…” You keep repeating in a mantra, panicking.

“I’ll give you some more germs.” He kisses you again, this time lingering and its driving you crazy how you can’t push him and his germs away. Jungkook burst out laughing from the worried look on your face, and you smile at the sound, knowing he was okay now.

“By the way its still my birthday.” He gestures to the clock, the two hands displaying that it wasn’t midnight yet. 

“Why was your alarm set to this time?” You question, confused why he wanted to wake up now.

“You know me I have a terrible sleep schedule and nap everywhere.” He states, and you agree with him, knowing that Jungkook would never wake up no matter how hard you would try.

“Oh, do you want your gift?” You remember you still had it with you, placed in the corner.

“Sure, what is it?” He playfully asks when you get up to retrieve it.

“A pet dragon.” You sarcastically say, but Jungkook eyes light up instantly.

“You WHAT??” He looks at you like a kid about to receive a toy and his gullibility makes you laugh.

“I’m joking!” You laugh, and he frowns at you.

“Of course you are, my girlfriend isn’t that cool.” He pouts, and you hand him a custom-made controller, Overwatch characters decorating the outside.

“Yeah I’m not cool at all.” He doesn’t respond, staring at the controller you had just given him in complete shock. He touches it in awe and before you know it, he’s tackling you into a hug.

“GOD YOU’RE THE BEST!!”

“The best? I thought I wasn’t cool?” You tease, but still accept his hug.

You open up the second box you had brought with you, the one containing his birthday cake. After lighting up the candles, you sing happy birthday to him in a very off tuned way, but his vocals come to your rescue by joining in. Leaning against the couch, you take bites of the cake and you see him beside you still admiring the gift, rotating it and being amazed from all the characters.

Although he had gotten sick, you were glad you got to spend the day with him here instead of going out like you had originally planned. It had given you the opportunity to spend some much-needed time with him, time that was usually unfortunately lost because of his busy schedule.

“Jungkook.” You whisper, and he turns his attention to you.

“Yeah?”

“Happy Birthday.” He smiles at you, eyes crinkling, and he submerges you into another hug.

[vennilavee]

paris in the rain

Pairing: bucky barnes x reader

Summary: you have a no good, horrible, very bad day.

Warnings: none really

Word Count: 1776

A/N: I know this has been done a million times, but I wanted to do it anyway. Im sorry if this is shitty- I’m trying to get better at writing fluff lol but enjoy. as always, let me know what you think/feedback is always appreciated.

The ground could swallow you up whole, the sky could burst into flames and you probably wouldn’t bat an eye. In fact, you would probably laugh, because of course, the days that you were physically aching to leave work and go home to Bucky were always the days that were the longest. 

The world almost feels muted for the entire day- voices sound garbled in your head as your running in and out of patient rooms tending to people who are on the verge of yelling at you. You had gotten thrown up on more times than usual and had gone through at least three pairs of scrubs before your shift had ended. You had gotten a notification from your bank account that your credit card was suspected of being used for credit card fraud.

You had a slew of meetings in the afternoon, and your mind was barely there. Your supervisor had even called you out for being so unfocused and you had wanted to snap at him. 

But you had reigned it in, and apologized.

The cherry on top of all of that was that you were on day two of your period. The second day of your period was always the most painful for you. Your stomach had been twisting uncomfortably, and you just felt off all day. Your appetite had been non-existent all day, your lower torso in knots, and you weren’t really up for chit-chat the way you usually were.

Your period wasn’t as bad as you’ve heard from your friends and other women- your period was regular, the bleeding wasn’t that heavy, and the pain was usually bearable. You had friends who had polycystic ovarian syndrome, friends with endometriosis, friends who would pass out from the sheer intensity of the menstrual pain that they were in, friends who took medication for menstrual pain.

Realistically speaking, you had it easy.

Your period didn’t usually get intense enough where you couldn’t leave the house without being in pain. You were usually able to function as you would when you weren’t on your period. But today... your mind was barely there, your body was aching everywhere. You just wanted to lay with Bucky under your comforters. 

The feeling of his arms around you, his fingers combing through your curls and his legs wrapped around you already had you perking up a little as you left the hospital.

Bucky already knows you aren’t feeling quite like yourself when the sporadic texts you send him are vague and empty of the usual emojis you like to add. You haven’t tagged him in any silly memes today. 

He knows day two is always a little more painful than the other days. He knows you’ll want your space, want to take a long shower to wash the day off by yourself. 

He also knows that you probably haven’t eaten much, if anything at all. Bucky has already laid out your favorites on days you feel like this- mozzarella sticks, key lime pie- he had to go to the three different bakeries in the city to get some- and a pie of pizza.

He knew you were in a mood from the moment you woke up- barely giving him a proper good morning kiss, being quiet all morning and barely responsive to his touches. But he understood. You just needed time and cuddles. Lots and lots of cuddles. 

So, he sits on your couch in sweatpants and a t-shirt, flipping through the television channels. He waits for you to come home, come home to him, so he can wrap himself around you.

Of course, it had started absolutely pouring the minute you stepped out of the hospital. You hadn’t brought an umbrella with you, so you were drenched from head to toe. Your clothes stuck to you like a second skin, your button up blouse that you had came to work in doing nothing in hiding that you were wearing a bright blue bra.

At least your pants hid your underwear from the rest of the world, you think dryly.

You don’t really care though, not really. Because you’re still one step closer to being home. Despite the gloominess of the New York City sky, you can’t help the little bead of sunshine from erupting in your chest at the thought of seeing Bucky. You’re so close but so far.

Bucky hears your keys jingling in the keyhole. He hears you drop them and you swear in annoyance before you manage to unlock your door. A laugh bubbles in his throat when you walk in, but then he sees you’re drenched.

Before you can say hello, you sneeze loudly and you swear you sway on the spot. 

“You get trapped in a hurricane or somethin’?” Bucky asks, standing in front of you. He untucks your blouse and starts unbuttoning it. The air on your wet skin makes you shudder, and he pulls you closer to him.

“Or somethin’,” You say dryly, “It just coincidentally started pouring right when I left work.”

“Well, isn’t that something,” He asks, pulling your hair out of the tight ponytail it’s in. His touch warms you up almost immediately. You allow yourself to closer your eyes for a moment and you rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“I’m going to go shower,” You mumble into him. He’s so warm and toasty and you never want to leave his embrace. 

Bucky follows you into your bedroom and peels you out of your wet clothes. He murmurs that he’ll run the laundry for you and to holler if you need anything. Your lips brush against his quickly and you disappear into the bathroom.

You feel about a thousand times better after that 20 minute hot, steaming shower. Your muscles are loose, the cramping in your stomach has subsided and you even feel your appetite begin to rear its head.

Quickly moisturizing yourself, you pull on your sweatpants and one of Bucky’s sweaters. You think you get the best of both worlds- nothing could beat being able to cuddle with Bucky in his own clothes.

You bring a thick blanket with you and make your way over to you Bucky. He pulls you into his lap and you wrap the blanket around the both of you.

“Hi,” Bucky says, his blue eyes burning into your brown ones.

“Hi, baby,” You reply. Pulling him down for a kiss, you run your fingers through his hair. God, it’s been less than a day since you’ve seen him but it feels like so much longer than that. You pull away and look behind him, seeing all of the food that you usually crave when you’re on your period laid out neatly on the kitchen island.

Your heart feels full and tears well up in your eyes at his thoughtfulness.

“You hungry? I know you probably didn’t eat much,” He murmurs, his hand rubbing circles on your hip. You nod and he kisses your forehead. A whine escapes you when he leaves your embrace to grab you a plate full of food and he laughs at you.

“How was today?” Bucky asks in between feeding you bites of pizza. You’re back on his lap, your favorite place to be.

“I almost got written up, I got thrown up on about three times, and my credit card is suspended,” You shrug with a grin, “But hey, I’m here now, aren’t I? My favorite place to be.”

There was a point in time when this today would’ve been classified as one of your worst days. You would have spent quite some time sulking, bitching, moaning, and complaining. But being with Bucky has given you some perspective. You’ve become more of an optimist and you’ve stopped sweating the small stuff so much. Life goes on.

“And where’s that, princess?” Bucky asks, kissing your nose.

“Right here, with you,” You say easily, “With you, and pizza, and key lime pie, and peanut butter and mozzarella sticks-”

“God, you’re disgusting, I don’t know how you can eat a combination of this stuff,” He rolls his eyes at you before shoving a spoonful of key lime pie in your mouth.

“Hey! I resent that,” You smack his chest playfully, “I have a wide range of palatability.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Bucky teases, “Chef Boyardee over here.”

“I’m surprised you even know what that is,” You snicker.

The pair of you continue like that until you’re both giggling and yawning in each other’s arms, ready to move your party to the bedroom. You stand up and stretch before Bucky picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bedroom. You both brush your teeth and gargle with mouthwash in the bathroom while knocking each other’s hips.

He almost sends you flying when he knocks into you too hard.

“Hurry up,” You whine at him, already under the comforters. You’ve chosen to decorate your room in navy blues and golds, and your bed is no exception. 

“Yeah, yeah. So needy,” He mutters without meaning it.

“Don’t be so rude,” You respond, rolling into his side. He shifts you so that your head is resting on his bare chest and his hand is dancing through your hair.

“You need anything? Need more pads or Advil?” Bucky asks softly. Your fingers are trailing up and down his arm. 

“Bet you look so cute and clueless at Walgeens, picking up a box of heavy duty pads for me,” You joke with him, pressing kisses to his cheeks and forehead.

“Clueless? I’m a pro now,” He says somewhat proudly, “You like the eight hour ones towards the end of your period and when you’re at home and you like the thick ones at the beginning of your period and when you have to leave the house. You think the super thin ones and pantyliners are a waste because they last about three seconds, and you hate tampons.

“See, I’m a pro,” Bucky kisses your forehead again, his hair tickling you.

“A man who knows his way around pads is a man worth keeping,” You grin at him.

Both of you quietly giggle and whisper about your day and you feel everything negative that had been inside of you long gone, just from spending an hour with your Bucky. His arms wrapped tightly around, the sound of his heartbeat, and his warmth you lulls you to sleep slowly. He knows you get cold when you’re on your period, so his flesh hand sits on your bare stomach as you sleep.

Bucky feels another piece of him glue back together when you nuzzle your face further into his chest in your sleep.

Tag list @coal000

[whereisvanderwood]

Winter Wonderland.

Yona of the Dawn | Akatsuki no Yona

Shinah x Reader - Fluff

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Small flakes of white danced around the air as countless others drifted to the ground with the elegance of a swan. Choosing to ignore the breathless sights of winter's wonders, Yun made it clear that they were not to make any more stops until they reached his desired destination; an isolated place where none in the group would have to worry about guards or other threats.

"If we keep moving fast enough, we should be able to get there before the sun goes down so it doesn't get too cold." The pretty boy genius sighed and looked to his right. "...That means no frolicking in the snow, (Y/N)."

The girl laughed as she continued to prance around in the soft piles of snow, the ice melting and soaking her feet. But she didn't mind. "I'll just make sure I frolic quickly then. I'm just enjoying myself, Yun!"

"Yeah well, I just want to get out of this cold before we all freeze to death, me especially!" The group continued to trudge through the snow, movements getting slower by the minute.

"(Y/N)-dearie is right, Yun. Have you ever seen anything as beautiful as snow covering the land in a white wonderland?" the green dragon awed aloud, in his questionable flirtatious tone.

"I have, and it happens to be some of the women you have flirted with in the past day or two. Now hurry up-" Yun slouched his shoulders and moaned as he realised he was the only one who was still walking. The rest of the group had stopped with (Y/N) and Jeaha, wanting to play in the snow themselves.

"Wow~ I've never seen snow like this before..." the crimson-haired princess said as she poked the soft ice lying on the ground. "I've only ever seen it when it is as hard as stone!"

"Whenever it snowed in Fuuga, it was always cold and droopy. But the sun is still shining right now," Hak spoke as he looked up into the sky.

"Don't speak too soon, Thunder Beast. See those clouds?" Yun pointed upwards to brooding dark clouds, which seemed to be rolling in rather quickly. "That's why we need to keep moving. If it gets any colder than this, there's no telling how sick we can get."

"Yaaay! Snow day, snow day!" Zeno started bouncing around, making (Y/N) to want to do the same.

"Don't encourage her, Zeno!" Yun angrily shouted.

"Hey, Zeno. Check this out!" (Y/N) got a heap of snow, bunched it all into a snowball and hurled it to the yellow dragon. He saw what was coming, and quickly dodged out of the way, the snowball then hitting the silent blue dragon, who was standing directly behind him. (Y/N) paused, before she broke out into fits of laughter, seeing the snow cover Shinah's mask.

"P-P-Princess," everyone looked to the shivering white dragon, who was standing underneath a tree. "M-may we please keep m-moving? I am almost c-c-certain that my d-dragon arm will f-fall off soon."

Hak cackled at the sorry sight of Kija, whilst the others stifled small laughs of how helpless he looked. "Alright, that's enough everyone. Time to keep moving. I don't want to have to look after any of you like I'm your mother."

"But you act like you are-"

"I am NOT your mother!" The group started trudging along once more, (Y/N) starting to feel the snow melting on top of her head, and slowly started to regret covering herself in so much snow.

Shinah was still trying to wipe the snow off his mask, his small friend Ao helping him, when something shone in his eyes. He quickly put his mask back on, and looked up. Where hundreds of other snowflakes fell, he saw one that was falling noticeably faster than the rest.

He held out his hands to catch it, and saw that this particular snowflake looked like it had been frozen twice, giving an illusion of some sort of rare crystal. He was mesmerised by it, this being the first time he had ever seen snow since he left his village behind him.

"Come on, Shinah. You don't want to be left behind," Yun called out from way in front.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After one too many detours the sun was going to set a lot sooner than Yun and the others had hoped, along with the clouds being directly overhead, meaning heavier snowfall at a later hour. They were really starting to feel the cold now.

Everyone's hair had started freezing over, except for Shinah of course, giving them a constant sensation of brain freeze whilst their other joints slowly froze too. "I-It's so c-cold, I can barely m-move," (Y/N) spoke with chattering teeth.

"If you had l-listened to me before, then we'd be there s-sooner. Now come on, the c-cave is just up ahead." The small footsteps they each took made the small distance feel like an hour, even though it was really what Yun had said; it was just up ahead.

They all entered the hollow cavern, Hak wasting no time in setting up the stray wood he had collected to start up a fire. The fire emanated a golden glow, almost as beautiful as the freezing winter just outside, providing a great sense of warmth and comfort as the eight of them all huddled together for a good while.

"I hope you've all learnt your lesson after this, especially you (Y/N)."

(Y/N) sighed. "Yes Yun, I have." At that moment, she looked outside, and there she was trapped, hypnotised by what she saw. It was as though the fire that she sat in front of, had been robbed of its beauty by the wintery world outside; the most beautiful sunset she had ever seen.

"Wow," she breathed, her mouth gaping wide open. Everyone else looked outside, their reactions identical to that of (Y/N)'s first. The heavy snowfall had begun to slow down once more, looking like tiny crystals being dropped by deities of the heavens.

"Don't even think about it," Yun warned.

"... But I can't help it-"

"Don't even think about it." Yun stood up from his seating position to grab his supplies for starting their meal. When he turned around, (Y/N) vanished.

"Well, she thought about it alright," Hak stated the obvious as they watched (Y/N) play like a child.

"Unbelievable..."

"Actually, I think it's very believable-"

"Kija, stop talking."

Shinah silently stood up from his place next to the princess, and slowly walked outside towards where (Y/N) was exploring. She got excited when she saw that someone else had joined her.

"Shinah! Isn't this amazing?" (Y/N) twirled around, bathing in the fiery rays of sun as she kicked up the piles of snow. Suddenly, she felt him grab her hand, causing her to blush a little. Shinah started pulling (Y/N) out of the snow, and back towards the cave.

"Come back... You'll get sick," he said in his usual monotone voice. (Y/N) quickly snatched her hand away, wanting to embrace this time for as long as it could last.

"No, I promise that I won't. Isn't this fun?"

"But your hair is wet..."

"It's fine, Shinah. I promise!" (Y/N) grinned widely when Shinah gave up on trying to get her out of the cold. He watched her bounce from place to place, doing all kinds of things. They ventured out a little further than Yun would have been okay for them to, and found a wide field with hardly any trees. It was white everywhere, like a cloud resting on the earth before it continued its journey again.

(Y/N) let herself fall backwards into the mass of fluff, laughing to herself as she started making the biggest snow angel she could. Shinah stood there, questioning what on earth (Y/N) was trying to do.

"Come on Shinah, try it!" (Y/N) Stood up from the ground, snow covering her entire back, and looked at her work proudly. Shinah, who was standing directly to her left, fell backwards out of the blue. (Y/N) worried for a split second, but giggled when she saw Shinah trying to do the same thing as her.

His arms and legs were stiff, barely moving. (Y/N) lay beside him so she could properly demonstrate how to make a snow angle. "Am I... doing it right?" The two of them stood up to look at Shinah's creation, and it looked more like a bird than an angel.

"It's beautiful, Shinah," (Y/N) said as she giggled at the funny shape. Before the blue dragon could say anything, (Y/N) had already dashed to another area of the field where the snow was piled up the highest. Shinah looked at her and thought she was making another snowball, but this was too big to be a snowball anymore.

He walked over to her as she started walking in circles, now pushing around a fairly large ball of snow. Not sure what she was doing, yet again, Shinah started pushing the ball around with (Y/N), and it quickly doubled in size.

"Great! Let's make another one!" They both quickly got to work on making a second giant snowball, but this one being smaller than the first one.

"...What are we doing?"

"Making a snowman, of course."

"A man... of snow?"

"You could say that. Now help me put this one on top of that one," (Y/N) instructed. The two of them lifted up the current ball of snow and placed it on top of the first one they made together. (Y/N) scavenged around for sticks and small rocks of the sort, and started making the snowman what it was meant to look like.

Shinah helped, adding in his own touch by giving the man clothes, as he thought that every man should be clothed appropriately. When (Y/N) said that they had finished, Shinah was still having trouble in trying to see how this... thing of snow, was meant to represent a human. Even Ao couldn't figure out what it was, who had been observing from Shinah's shoulder the entire time.

As the sky started to get darker with the sun disappearing behind the horizon, (Y/N) sighed, knowing it was time to head back. "Yun has probably finished making dinner. We should go back now."

As the two of them started walking back, (Y/N) began to shiver as she had been earlier on in the day, but strangely it was nowhere near as cold as it was then. Shinah looked at how cold she was, and jumped a little when she started to cough and sneeze countless times.

The blue dragon knew that (Y/N) didn't keep her promise, and that the cold had finally gotten to her. He grabbed her hand, and gently pulled her along so they could get to the warm cave sooner. (Y/N) moaned in annoyance, knowing that Yun was going to scold her like the mother he was.

They quickly reached the cave, and Shinah sat (Y/N) down by the fire instantly.

"I know I shouldn't say I told you so, but I am going to anyway. I told you so," was the first thing Yun said when both Shinah and (Y/N) came back into the cave. "Have you finally learnt your lesson-"

"Y-Yep," (Y/N) quickly chattered out, before she started coughing once more.

"Wow, you really got yourself sick didn't you? You're shivering harder than White Snake was today."

"You really have no respect for me, do you!?" Hak and Kija quickly started their usual bickering, whilst Yona was watching Yun cook, and Jeaha and Zeno sat quietly as they observed.

Meanwhile, Shinah removed his fluffy garment he always wore, and put it around (Y/N)'s shivering corpse. He then got Ao from his shoulder, and put him next to (Y/N), so she had someone to snuggle with.

"T-Thank you, S-Shinah..."

"It's okay," he responded. Shinah shifted his position, moving (Y/N) with him, so they were both leaning against the wall. He put his arms around (Y/N)'s shoulders and held her close to his chest. "Get some rest..."

(Y/N) couldn't help but feel her eyes gettingheavier by the second as Shinah continued to rub her arms to warm her up asmuch as he was able. The warmth of not only the fire, but Shinah's kindness, lulledher to her own dreamland where she and Shinah were still outside, togetherforever more.    

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