#just felt like it needed a set up of sorts

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always knew your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, (eventual) smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 17.8k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bff!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, envision the jk on the cover, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the nami villa from the kdrama fight for my way

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON: WATTPAD | AO3

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!" 

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over nine pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that! 

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away. 

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him. 

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com. 

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past nine and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless. 

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.   

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk. 

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes. 

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you. 

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either. 

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you. 

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost. 

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. 

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck!  Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Assembly Meeting: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that an assembly meeting has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO  for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this meeting is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the assembly meeting. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it  cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[kiwiikato]

Mommy’s Here // Ken Sato x Reader

Chapter Five

masterlist

"y/n! help me please - she's spitting all over the place! oh gosh, it's so gross. it's on my face, im going to vomit." you woke up to loud yelling as you yawned while stretching your limbs. "help! please!"

you turned to see ultraman holding the baby kaiju as he gagged from the saliva that the baby spit out. you quickly stood up and transformed into your ultra form, grabbing her from kenji's arms.

she slobbered more as you help her, making you gag, but pushing through. "kenji, go get me a sheet of some type, we need to wipe her down. mina, can you please set up a type of bath for her here, something small just so we can rinse her off."

"i will get that for you." mina said as the floor opened to reveal a tub of some sort, about the shape of a pool for the babies giant size. kenji nodded transformed back to normal and scurried upstairs, looking around till he found a clean sheet of some sort around his house.

you carried the baby kaiju into the body of water, soothing her as she cried at the water touching her. your hand rubbed her head as she calmed down to which she did a bit after. "it's okay baby, mommy's got you. it's just water, see?" you hand dipped in the water as water drops trickled from your hands to her. she shook her head at the feeling of water falling on her beak, but cooed happily.

"see it's just water, nothing to be afraid of." you talked to her in a baby voice as kenji came running from upstairs with the sheets in his hand. "i brought the sheet!" he turned into his ultra form as he neared you and the baby kaiju. "thank you ken, just put it down to the side till i need it."

he placed the sheet down to the side, scooting closer to you. "do you need help washing her?" he quietly asked looking over your shoulder. "mmm not really, but it would be good for you to get involved. do you want to try washing her?" you asked him as you wipes away from of the saliva from her arms.

he nodded, to which you moved away and let him grab the baby kaiju. she got excited seeing him, splashing some of the water with her hands in joy. "awww she likes you a lot kenji." you said smiling. "i guess she does." he said softly, you could hear a soft smile take a place on his lips. he scooped water up with his hands, pouring it over her head gently, making sure to not hit her eyes.

"don't forget to wipe her mouth." he did as you said, wetting his hands as he wiped at her mouth, slightly wincing at the feeling of her saliva. "oh this is so gross." you laughed at his reaction. "suck it up hot stuff. scoot over." you pushed him out of the way as you grabbed the baby kaiju, cleaning her away more with the water.

kenji moved himself out of the way, surprised by the nickname you called him. 'hot stuff?' he stiffened up as his face turned red, flustered at the unexpected boldness. he's never been so grateful for his ultra form not showing off actual expression, feeling better you couldn't see his red face.

he shook his, watching as how you gently handled the baby kaiju. there was an unspoken agreement between the both of you with how she brought some form of light, a gentle touch to the both of your lives.

his thoughts were shaken off by the sound of your voice. "pass me the sheet please, ken. i need to dry her off now." he quickly grabbed the sheet that was next to him, handing it over to you.

you worked quickly as you dried her off, making sure to gently rub her scaly skin so she wouldn't get any rashes of sorts. she cooed at the feeling of your hands rubbing on squishy shape, happy to feel the warmth of a blanket. you smiled at her cuteness.

"there you go. are you nice and warm now?" she wasn't human so you didn't expect an answer but the smile and sounds she made was enough for you to know how she felt. you cradled her next to you, resting her head against your chest as you rocked your body back and forth.

you raised a finger at kenji, urging to come closer. he moved to you silently till your face was near his ear. "ken, ask mina to clean out the tube for her, we don't want her getting dirty anymore. can you do that for me, please?" you voice was soft and quiet, considerate to the baby you held. "of course, i'll be right back." you smiled as he softly scurried to where mina was.

you couldn't hear him but you knew he was following your request. he walked back to you with mina floating next to him. the ai robot worked her magic as the containment unit went down, only to come back clean a couple seconds later.

you were grateful for the help, slowly walking to the unit as you placed her gently down. your hand rubber over her head softly as she gently sat on the floor, your heart melted even more.

"there you go, all better." you zapped back into your human form, to which kenji followed suit of.

"thank you for the help y/n, i dont think i could've dealt with the slobber." kenji said as he walked up to you. you laughed at his words. "well you better get use to it, how are you gonna do it when your raising your future kid, hmmm?" you teased him as you wiggled your eyebrows at him jokingly.

"you know, i never thought about kids or anything like that. just never really came across my mind." he said as you both sat down. you eyes widened at the idea, but knowing how he is a athlete with fame, it's hard to build connections when at times those emotions are lust or even just using them for materialistic items.

"i understand what you mean, you shouldn't shoot the idea fully down though, kids really do bring out the best sides of us when we let them." kenji sat thinking about your words. "i guess so. what about you? what are your thoughts on it?"

a smile consumed your face as you got excited at the question. the idea of a small but happy family always came as a thought for you, it was something that made you excited for in the future. "i have thought about it actually. i always wanted to experience the joy of being a mother and nurturing a mini version of me and my partner, a little concoction of love if you will."

your thoughts wandered off, almost dreaming of the future you hoped you'd get. your thoughts were broken off by kenji. "almost like right now then?" your head focused on his contemplating features. "what do you mean?" you asked confused.

"well think about it, obviously it's not real, but you can say us taking care of the baby kaiju is almost like parents taking care of their kid. we're her parents, you as her mom, and me as her dad." he said staring at you.

your face turned red at his words. 'he doesn't know how that really sounds?' your heart beat faster at the idea he put into your head, making you shake off your thoughts. "yeah- i guess that does make us her parents. a fake but sweet happy family." you said as you played with your fingers.

it was then kenji's turn to become flushed hearing you say 'family'. he knew what you said was basically the same thing he said but for you to say 'family', realization set upon him on what he unintentionally inferred.

"uhuh! yeah! like a family!" he stuttered over his words, trying to play off as cool but miserably failing to anyone with common sense.

a quiet enveloped the room as you both sat nervously next to each other. almost like it was luck, mina came out from around the corner, eventually stopping in front of the both of you.

you were grateful to get out of the nerve wracking but slightly disappointed to have to cut the conversation short. it was heartwarming but you couldn't let yourself feel for a situation that didn't exist.

you sighed quiet as you turned to look at what mina had to say. "hello ken and y/n. i know you're exhausted ken, but you have a game today." ken looked at her confused, his eyebrow arching.

"after last night, there's no way we're gonna play." he responded grumpily, tired from the events with the adorable baby kaiju. mina floated backwards, generating a holographic screen of the news.

the news showed ken's coach talking. "we've determined that despite the battle, the stadium is safe and we will be playing the game." the screen disappeared as ken looked annoyed. "of course! of course we're still gonna play!" he threw his head down aggravated by the outcome.

it was almost ironic to see this happening right after his couch said he he news, almost like he could hear him right after kenji denied the game happening. you couldn't help but snicker at his cruel fate.

kenji turned his head to you, shooting you a playful glare as he pouted at you 'menacingly'. you stuck your tongue out at him, mocking him as he gave you a dramatic gasp in response.

you both smiled and turned to give mina your attentions once again. "what are we going to do about the baby then?" mina asked.

before kenji could sassily respond, you covers his mouth with your hand, pushing him away from mina. "i'll take care of her, so don't worry about having to take care of her  by yourself mina while he plays." kenji smiled in relief, nodding his head.

"well then i'll be going, i have a game to attend right now then." kenji grunted as he rose from his spot on the floor, grabbing his leather player jacket. he played his jacket on wrong, one arm going on the other so putting it in reverse. it was silly to look at.

mina turned towards the baby kaiju, turning around and creating a different holographic scene. "studies suggest this isn't healthy for children." a child's cartoon came out, showing the character made out of clay dancing and singing around. it was catchy to say the least, so you didn't mind it. ken walked backwards to the elevator in the room.

"ah tv the ultimate babysitter, well right before an actual babysitter." he gave you a look of acknowledgment, turning his attention back to mina. "just not this crap all day, okay? i don't want her getting hooked on this stupid song."

the elevator tube closed on him, taking him up towards the main floor. you turned towards the baby kaiju and leaned against her tube, deciding to watch the cartoon with her to pass time. children's cartoon really were addicting in their own way.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

the sound of a tv's speakers boomed throughout the room as your body neared the main floor. opening the doors, you went to go check on kenji since mina informed you that he was back. she wanted you to call him down to watch a small performance the baby kaiju had.

the sound of a speaker caught your ears. "and now it looks like there are being words exchanged between sato and the swallows catcher. oh! oh no." you body went around the corner, finally realizing that he was watching his own game on tv.

you eyes met the giant screen, watching as sato and the catcher from the opposing scene broke into a fight. you redirected your attention to who you believe was kenji in an ice bath.

you heard him whimper as he touched the slight wounds on his face with a can, his breathing shallow from the pain he felt. "kenji." you voice called out for his attention. "are you okay?" your body now stood on the side of his ice bath, kneeling down slightly to be eye to eye level as you placed your hands on the ice bath.

“i’m okay,” he whispered as he watched the tv in front of him, caught up in the events of the game, “just thinking and some things like that.” he was uninterested. you couldn’t help but feel pity for him as his body winced.

“can i see you wounds, ken? id be willing to help you with them.” he was silent, but you knew he had heard you when he slowly shifted his body to you. you eyes trailed his body, trying your hardest to not make you look like a pervert at his frame. you quickly focused on the scraped he had on his upper face and his shoulders.

you face was red as you reached out to touch the texture of the scrape on his shoulder closest to you. the pad of your finger was gentle but he could not help but wince at the feeling of you touching his wound.

you moved your finger away, trying to avoid the blush that came onto your face. ‘focus y/n focus.’ you told yourself internally as your eyes zoned out from how hard you were staring to try not to look anywhere else on him.

the room was dim, but ken could still make out the blossoming pink that appeared on your face. his eyes widened in shocked till they changed into a cocky smirk and half lidded eyes. “do i make you flustered y/n?” ‘oh fuck.’ you thought as you froze.

TAGLIST!

@ilovemyhusbandaaravos @miffysoo @dumbkira15 @chaoticotaku @channit @shingsoluvely @vampz-cats @mixvchelle @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @dreamayy @justanotherkpopstanlol @bat1212 @angelitadiaz @snowbusiness @witcwitchy @mizzowizzo @buggs-1 @mmeerraa @everywonuu @nevermorekisses

[satorusugurugurl]

Cake

Summary: Nanami Kento has a bubble butt, and you love it. 🎂

Characters: Nanami Kento x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 935

Warnings: Butt groping, biting, fluff

A/N: just a drabble inspired by a conversation with @sugurubabe ! I would bounce nickles off that butt.

Nanami Kento had a bubble butt, one that looked amazing in his tailored suit. You could easily spot him across the courtyard at the school. It was so full and slapable, but you had to refrain from allowing yourself to let your hormones take over.

At least when you were in the public eye.

It was free range when you were alone or in the comfort of your own home! Nanami never knew when you’d lose yourself to your carnal desires. But he always felt it. He could be walking in front of you down an alleyway and SMACK! The impact would make him jolt and hiss through his teeth as you giggle like a gremlin bolting off in front of him. Or he could be just minding his business making tea in the kitchen to feel you grope both cheeks in your hands and massage him. Nanami would sigh as he gripped the counter, waiting for you to satisfy your needs.

The fact you were obsessed with his ass didn't bother him. He almost found it endearing. If giving him a smack or massage made you happy, he would roll his eyes with a chuckle and wait for you to hurry off before going about your day with a pep in your step.

Smacks and massages were normal, something that happened nearly every day. You like to throw in the occasional pinch now and then to keep him on his toes! But for the most part, Nanami Kento was used to your antics.

At least, he thought he was.

The sun had set by the time you got home after an exhausting day at work. You had no energy to eat, watch TV, or function as a contributing member of society. You could only take a hot shower and crawl into bed to snuggle your boyfriend.

The thoughts of the warm water against your muscles kept you moving forward until you stepped through the doorway into your bedroom. The nightstand light was on, illuminating the room in a warm yellowish hue. One that highlighted the curves of your boyfriend's body, who was lazily flipping the page of his book. He must have gotten out of the shower recently because his hair was still damp. But he was ready for bed as he lounged in his black t-shirt and blue and black plaid sweats.

The same plaid sweats that hugged his ass perfectly.

You stared at his bubble butt, mouth-watering as your hands twitched and screamed for you to smack it, pinch it, and massage it. But deep, deep down, the gremlin in you wanted more. It was desperate for more. There was an aching in your teeth, and you knew what needed to be done.

Your boyfriend was so enthralled in his book that he never heard you coming. He hummed, flipping the page as you tip-toed towards the side of the bed, eyes locked in on your target. Just as he flipped another page, you struck.

You jumped forward, chomping your teeth down on his bootylicious butt. Nanami’s whole body went stiff. His eyes went wide, hands dropping the book he held before he jerked his head to look back at you. You were chomping down on his ass over and over again, moving from the left cheek to the right, making Nanami’s whole face turn bright red.

“What is wrong with you?!” He asked as you finally pulled away. Admiring the wet bite marks you left in your wake.

“Just had to try the cake you so kindly had on display~!” You go in for another bite only to have him clench his cheeks together. “Awee! Kento, don’t clench so tight! How can I bite down if you do that?!”

“That's sort of the whole point!”

With a pout, you sigh softly, getting up, smacking his plump ass. “Fine~ thanks for the meal.” Turning on your heel, Nanami sighed, relaxing against the bed and turning his head to watch you walk away with flushed cheeks. Only to watch you turn back around, pouncing on the bed and chomping down on his now unclenched ass.

“Ah!” Nanami growled as you both wrestled each other. “You brat!” he grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked it gently, pulling you off of him.

You were a giggling, flushed mess. You bit your lip, and your nose scrunched up as Nanami chuckled. You were absolutely adorable despite your need to sink your teeth into him. Nanami gently pulled you up, wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You giggle louder, nuzzling your face into his chest.

“I love you, Kento.”

“I love you too.” He held you close. “But I'm keeping you here until the urge to bite my ass is gone.” You perked up, and the sudden moment caused your boyfriend to tighten his gaze. “Stop.”

Your bottom lip stuck out as faux sorrow tugged at your features. “I can't bite you ass?”

“No.”

“Just your ass?”

“Yes, Love, my ass is off limits.”

“Oh good.”

There was a mischievous tone in your voice. One that had every muscle in Nanami’s body tensing up as he slowly turned to look at you. There was no time to react or protest as you bit down his pectoral, nibbling and chewing at the muscle. Nanami stroked your head with a heavy sigh, smiling wide as your teeth nibbled gently over him. If this made you happy, he’d let you have fun.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe e @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

[aetherdoesthings]

hanahaki!reader x arlecchino part 2

forethoughts: i'm aetherdoesthings, of course i don't stick to my schedule. anyways, apologies if the timing of this fic seems wonky. i had specific scenarios in my head when i was planning this, with each stage of filming, which i have no clue about because that is not the path i took, so yeah :]. enjoy early upload!

notes: alocohol mentioned!!! drinking is in this!!! reader does drink!! don't be like reader this was just for plot drink responsibly guys!!! modern setting, arlecchino and reader are actresses, fem!reader, hanahaki au

“So, how’s everything? Still coughing up a storm?” You choked on your coffee when you heard that familiar voice, echoing in your head like a broken stereo. 

“I guess you still are. Wow, an entire year?” Arlecchino chuckled, pressing a few buttons on the coffee machine. “So what did the doctor say? Just a cough? Cold? Colds don’t last for a year. Doesn’t look like a fever.”

“R-Right, u-um, just a cough. Y-Yeah.” You nodded your head, mustering up a smile.

Damn it, Y/N, you’re an actress. Act. You scolded yourself on your performance. 

“Alright then.” Arlecchino gazed at your smile, one finding its way onto hers. “I hope you’ll be okay; tomorrow is all about shooting promotion videos and the day after traveling from studio to studio to do interviews.”

Your face instantly paled at Arlecchino’s words. Shit. Promo week. No rest, non stop smiling, repeating the same phrase over and over again on different networks and platforms. The worst part was that Arlecchino was right by your side the entire time during the shoot, acting all lovey dovey towards you to sell to the audience that the two of you were playing a pair of couples. Then again, you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited to read comments after comments of netizens shipping the two of you together. Your heart fluttered at the thought, the child inside you kicking their feet in the air as you held back a grin. Well, you held the grin back, but not the cough.

Your left hand shot up to your mouth, your body already letting the cough take place, letting the petal travel up your esophagus and into your palm. You didn’t like how your body was already used to the feeling of having a part of a flower regurgitate out of you, muscles immediately jumping into action and making way for the disease in your lungs. Your stomach churned as Arlecchino rubbed her hand on your back, trying to comfort you and make you feel better.

“Oh, Y/N…” Arlecchino’s hand took the hand that was on your mouth, holding it in hers as she made you look at her. It took every single willpower inside you to not blush or let any sort of heat course through your body, biting down a whine as her fingers found its way to your chin. Your bones turned into toothpicks, joints threatening to disappear. 

“Are you sure you are going to be alright? You don’t need to power through all those interviews if you physically cannot-”

“I can.” A surge of stubbornness and pride overpowered your senses. Arlecchino didn’t know you were in love with her, and Arlecchino certainly did not need to know you were in love with her, and that you were a weak little coward that let a disease run your life.

“I can.” You repeated yourself, nodding your head. “I’ll power through. I promise.”

You felt like you were telling yourself that more than you were telling Arlecchino. 

Arlecchino stared at you, those crimson eyes giving you no clue into what she felt. Arlecchino pursed her lips, before removing herself from you. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, darling.”

And just like that, Arlecchino left the room, her hands leaving your body. You let out a gasp at the missing touch, confused and baffled by her actions, cheeks flaring red at her nickname for you. All alarms in your brain all went off at once, your stomach doing a backflip and your vertical toothpicks turning horizontal. You looked at your left hand, noticing the empty palm. That’s strange. A flower petal was always there after your skin turned red and you got lightheaded. Your mind flashed back to Arlecchino’s hand around yours, how you thought her act of intertwining your fingers was supposed to be an effort to comfort you. 

Oh, how naïve you were.

Arlecchino had the petal.

Arlecchino knew.

Arlecchino was going to have the evidence she needed to confirm her suspicions.

How would she even know-

You always coughed whenever she got close or when you talked to her, you idiot, and she’s a fucking genius, so she’ll piece everything together! Your brain quarreled with each other, your body leaving the room as you stood there like a soldier made of stone, palm open and empty.

Maybe there wasn’t a petal this time. One side argued.

There always is one. 

But maybe there wasn’t.

You leaned onto that sentence, clinging onto it as if it was your lifeline. Maybe there wasn’t a petal this time when you coughed. Maybe it really was just a cough. It wasn’t a cough from your stupid crush on the beautiful, intelligent-

She definitely knows.

You stared at the bread knife on the table, stabbed into a piece of baguette. If only that baguette was your heart, perhaps you wouldn’t have to deal with the constant yes or no that battled in your head, no side willing to raise the white flag yet. 

This was Arlecchino. Hollywood star with a hundred million followers. Everybody knew her name. No haters, no drama, just an absolute queen living among peasants. And… you were one of those peasants. 

As if Arlecchino would ever love you back.

As if Arlecchino would ever want to spend time with you, a total D tier so-called actress.

But maybe there wasn’t a petal this time.

Maybe. How that word was able to make hope fill your heart and shatter it into tiny pieces.

Furina was giving a speech. You were amongst the crowd of both cast and crew, a glass of wine in your damp grip. Your finger drummed against your pants, waiting for her monologue to end so you could ditch the party. 

Somehow, you managed to survive through the whole filming process, despite having to cough up petals every day. Yes, people turned their eyes towards you, then towards the other normal people to talk about the freak you were. Coughing and disrupting every other scene where Arlecchino’s character had to be in close proximity with you. The minute Furina ended her speech, you snatched a full bottle of wine from one of the serves, disappearing into the blank hallways before anyone could start a conservation with you. You ducked into a nearby broom closet, the walls managing to drown out most of the sound of laughter and conversations. You closed the door behind you, sinking down to your knees as a sigh of relief passed through your lips instead of a petal. With the bottle of wine already opened, you wrapped your lips around the front, chugging all the wine down your throat, hoping that’ll be enough to make you forget your situation, even better end your predicament for you. If the disease wasn’t going to kill you, alcohol will. And you were a much bigger fan of the latter.

The noise did not die down for the rest of your time you spent in the closet, your head resting against the wood. Maybe no one will find you here, and leave you here to rot. Yeah. No one paid attention to you, even though you were supposed to be the co-star of the movie. After all, it was Arlecchino you were working with. Arlecchino. Everyone loved her, everyone wanted a picture with her. You? You were just there to hold her bags. That was all you were worth.

“Oh, Arlecchino.” You laughed into the darkness, head rolling against the door. “Why must you be like this?”

You despised the feeling of helplessness and dependency on another person.

You never intended to fall in love with Arlecchino. The constant need to see her and hear her voice was never desired.

And now there was a damn disease you were plagued with that forced you to confront something you wish never existed.

There were two options to get rid of hanahaki forever. Either you confess your love to Arlecchino and she says yes, or you confess your love to Arlecchino and get rejected. 

“Like she’ll ever love me back.” You laughed, bringing the glass to your mouth, even though it was empty.

Suddenly, the door swung open, causing you to fall onto the wooden ground, drunken eyes readjusting to the harsh lights, a crimson and white figure partially blocking your sight.

“Hmn. So this is what people stricken by hanahaki is like? They drink themselves out of their misery and hide in a broom closet?” Arlecchino’s voice echoed in your head, that signature snarkiness and mockery in her voice. Though there was a tint of warmth and concern in her voice as well, or maybe you were just hallucinating again. 

Yep, you’re done for.

[misshoneyimhome]

we all know willy is cool, laidback, nothing could ever bother him? could we get him with a reader that is the polar opposite? like someone who is anxious all the time, nervous and is pessimistic? and then their whole relationship could just be willy teasing them and purposefully stressing out the reader? and then the news of him possibly having severe migraines where reader goes into full nurse mode and treats willy as a baby and now he has to be serious and try to calm them down

Oh, I really enjoyed this idea, babe! 🤗 Truth be told, this would be so me - at least the nervous and anxious part 🙈 Willy's definitely way too chill and relaxed for his own good, so, of course, we need her to take good care of our man 🤍✨

Please, I hope you enjoy this - probably overly fluffy fic 💕

Tropes & warnings; no warnings - it's just fluff; anxious!girlfriend, cheeky!willy, William Nylander x reader;

Word count; 2.2K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny@justwanderingbutneverlost @cixrosie

_

You complete me I William Nylander 🖋️🌺

“William Andrew Michael Junior Nylander Altelius! You really need to get ready - now!” you shouted through the condo, trying to prompt your boyfriend to hurry up and prepare for tonight’s match.

It was a typical situation. You had set the alarm so you both had plenty of time to get ready. You had even set several additional alarms to ensure William would be ready to leave before he was needed at the arena to gear up, while you had your own alarm for when you needed to leave to meet up with the other hockey girlfriends before the match.

“Willy! You’re going to get stuck in traffic if you don’t hurry up!”

“Take it easy, babe,” William chuckled as he joined you in the kitchen, almost dressed in his pregame suit, buttoning up his shirt and placing a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll just take the metro.”

“The metro?” you questioned, picking up his tie from the counter.

“Yes, you know, that form of transportation that sort of looks like a train and takes you from one station to another,” he explained mockingly with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes as you wrapped the silk fabric around his neck to tie the knot. “But… what if you get recognised? What if fans come up to you and want autographs?”

William chuckled again. “Then I’ll give them an autograph,” he said simply. “But they usually don’t - I mean, most of them just respect it when I have my headphones in.”

“But Willy…” you began but trailed off. You weren’t really sure what you were so worried about. William was a grown man and had taken public transport countless times, yet as always, you were mentally preparing for the worst. “What if the train breaks down or something? What if you’re late because someone won’t leave you alone?” You tightened the knot around his neck as you finished tying the tie.

But once again, William simply laughed as his hands grasped your arms. “Baby, nothing’s going to happen. I’ll be on time – in fact, there’s a better chance of that than if I get stuck in traffic trying to get to Downtown,” he explained with a smile. “You don’t always have to worry.”

You nodded lightly, well aware that he was right. “I’m sorry, I suppose I just always want to make sure everything’s alright with you,” you looked up at him with a hint of concern in your eyes.

“And I love you for that, more than you know,” he said, stroking his thumb over your lower lip before gently placing a kiss on it.

And as if his touch had a magical effect, you simply melted into it, slowly deepening the kiss a little. Your mouths moved in sync, your fingers toying with his tie as his hands moved to your hips and gently pressed your body against his.

It was a moment of pure joy as you and William stayed connected, savouring the love and passion between you. However, as you felt William’s tongue press against your lips, asking for permission to enter, you knew what he was trying to do. So, you swiftly pulled away, catching your breath.

“Willy - you really need to go now.”

Your tone was sharp, almost commanding. Yet William still grinned, holding his hands firmly on your hips.

“Hmm, then we’d better finish this when I get back home.”

His words were nothing but flirtatious and cheeky. And you couldn’t help but feel a tingle of anticipation in your lady parts for what the two of you might be doing later. But for now, he really needed to get going.

So, pushing him off with an eye roll and a smirk, you bid your farewells. And as William exited your home, gently adjusting himself in his trousers, he sent you air kisses and a flirty wink.

__

To an outsider, the two of you getting together and starting to date might not have seemed ideal - at least not at first.

You and William Nylander were simply polar opposites in many ways.

You were a planner - a woman who thrived on structure, always preparing for any situation that might arise. You were a realist - though some might say more of a pessimist - always worried, nervous, and anxious. You didn’t like surprises and definitely disliked not having control over a situation.

And this was something William was keen to challenge when he first met you.

Your smile had immediately captivated him, which was a rare sight given that you were at a birthday party for someone you didn’t really know. Yet your best friend had pushed you out of your comfort zone and introduced you to her new group of friends - the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey players.

You were definitely out of your depth, but William sought you out during the evening, and the two of you effortlessly fell into a deep conversation. It was the first time someone had made you feel so relaxed so easily. And all he did was talk.

And when he realised how nervous you were about uncertain situations, William naturally invited you out for ice skating on your first date. Not that you were completely incompetent on skates, but truth be told, you hadn’t really practised since you were ten years old and broke your wrist in a fall.

But William was determined to teach you, to push the boundaries of your comfort zone. And as it turned out, you had never been happier or laughed as much as when you were with him. Though you nearly fell several times, he just grabbed you and laughed along.

William was the best guy for you in so many ways. He always managed to lift your spirits, see the brighter side, and encourage you not to worry too much. And most annoyingly, he often succeeded.

Meanwhile, you had your own ways of completing him, even if you weren’t entirely aware of it. The point was that William felt you kept him grounded. Though he was naturally relaxed and composed, always knowing what to say, you made him feel secure. Your habit of preparing for everything before a match or an event, knowing the schedules, activities, and attendees, made William feel like he never had to worry. You ensured his bags were packed before a trip and that the fridge was stocked with snacks and food for when he returned.

In short, he didn’t have to be bothered about anything, and you were the reason for that. You were the reason he always seemed so composed and relaxed in public - the reason he could easily smile and laugh, knowing you always had his back. And not just with the practical stuff, but emotionally as well.

Sure, you were often the one to worry, but you were also known for being rather truthful. So, when you told him you were sure he’d do amazingly in a game, knowing how hard he’d worked, he always believed you.

But of course, your relationship wasn’t perfect. No relationship was. Your differences were often the cause of most of your discussions, yet you both quickly realised that your fights never cut deeply. Most of the time, it was simply you stressing about a given situation and William’s lack of worry.

And in those situations, William had a talent for pushing all your buttons. On purpose, of course.

When the two of you had arranged a dinner with some friends and players along with their partners, you naturally stressed out about organising everything, cooking the food, and setting the table. And William, with a giant grin plastered on his handsome face, found his best ways to play with fire.

Chuckling while you were running around like a headless chicken, he’d lean against the counter and casually say something like, “Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you that Järnkrok might come over a little earlier.”

Your eyes would widen. “What?” you’d exclaim. “But I haven’t even cleaned yet… and you’re not dressed!”

Then William would just chuckle. “It’s just Järnkrok. He’s seen me naked hundreds of times – And I think he doesn’t care that I’m in sweats. Besides, he doesn’t care about how clean our place is.”

William knew it got on your nerves, yet he couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly you could dash from one room to another.

It was indeed quite comical, and once the evening was underway, you soon forgot all about the worry and stress. The dinner unfolded just as it should, with good company and good food. And William, of course, made a point of remarking how he had been right all along that there was no need to worry. So, you simply shook your head, rolled your eyes, and planted a gentle kiss on his lips.

___

But then, one day, the dynamics seemed to shift.

William had been experiencing severe headaches lately, and despite his attempts to hide it, you could see the pain he was masking. It hurt you deeply to witness him this way.

Your boyfriend wasn’t his usual self; his usual cheekiness and cheerful spirit had faded away. His confidence and composed nature seemed almost lost, and you felt powerless to help him.

Naturally, you tried researching online, reading about the best remedies for migraines, but it didn’t seem to bring you any closer to a solution. You spoke to the team's healthcare staff, who advised that William needed rest and recovery due to the stress he had been under.

So, when he returned home from training, you took charge. You found your nurse - not in a sexy way - and ensured he had everything he needed at all times.

You checked on him whenever he was awake and asleep, made sure he ate something, and most importantly, stayed hydrated.

Despite your efforts to stay calm and composed, to be the strong one for both of you, William quickly sensed your inner turmoil. He was accustomed to seeing you stressed about various situations, but this was different. For once, he realised he needed to be the one to remain serious and reassure you that everything would be alright.

This time, William couldn't afford to play around and tease you as he watched you on the brink of panic whenever you heard he still wasn’t fully recovered.

Certainly, there were questions like, “What about his career?” – “How does his health affect his physique?” – “Will he be able to return to the ice, and will it affect the rest of the season?”

But those were William's concerns, not yours. Your worries revolved around how William was feeling – Was he upset with you? Were you being too intrusive, and did he want you to give him space? Was he improving? Had he eaten enough and slept well?

In essence, you were completely dedicated to his care, and William could see the concern in your eyes every time you looked at him; all you wanted was to take away his suffering. He knew that. And he kept reminding you just how much he appreciated having you by his side.

And as you lay together in bed, simply trying to relax, William couldn’t help but smile, as he placed your hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat and the warmth radiating from his body.

“Thank you for being so good to me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as your eyes met in a tender gaze.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Of course, Willy. I love you, and… I just want you to feel better soon. So, you can get back to playing hockey, doing what you love.”

But William shook his head gently. “Being here with you is what I love.”

Your heart swelled, touched by his words in a way only William could manage. As you lay there, looking into his beautiful blue eyes, you felt your emotions welling up.

“Willy, I’ll always be here for you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but your feelings were evident, only making William smile even more.

“I know – but I still want to tell you how much I love you for it. It’s not easy, and… I know how you always worry, so I just want to reassure you that I’m alright – because I have you.”

William had always been smooth with words, but this time, you felt his sincerity straight from the depths of his heart. His voice carried no hint of teasing or jesting; it was pure and genuine.

Taken aback by his words, you offered him a soft smile in return. “Of course, Willy. I know I tend to worry a bit too much, but… it’s because I care.”

“I know that – and it’s one of the many reasons I love you so much,” he sighed softly. “I might not always show it, but I do care – especially about you. The way you always strive to make everything wonderful and perfect, even when you think it isn’t, amazes me. You’re incredible, and I’m not entirely sure what I’ve done to deserve you… You just… complete me.”

You gasped slightly, his heartfelt words catching you off guard. Never had you heard William speak so openly and lovingly. His words were filled with genuine care, and you knew deep down that he was right. Despite your differences, you truly did complement each other perfectly.

[juniperdugong]

Perfection {Teaser}

No one has looked at you like that. With such admiration, such kindness. Taking in all your details and intricacies. Playing with a piece of paper and through it piecing together what was meant to be you. Eyes glancing back and forth with a smile. Oh god, why did the mortician have to have such a sickly sweet smile as he looked at your corpse? Why did your soul not leave when it was meant to?

Pairing: mortician!mingyu x corpse!GNreader

Genre: Mortician!au, Horror!au || Fluff, Crack (simply bc this concept is not normal in the slightest babes), Romance, Angst(?)

Warnings: Mentions of death, corpses, and gore (Nothing in depth and nothing intended to disturb) || Necrophilia(?), It's more like Necro-romance, aka romantic attraction to a corpse. || Nudity || {Please let me know if there are other warnings you would like me to add}

Teaser WC: 518

Songs that inspired this fic

A/N: Hey, people...First fic and it's one based on all the different renditions of Frankenstein...Because of course, I would. My incessant need to write stories with insane premises is shining right now. If you listen to the playlist I hope you don't mind the mix of goth, rock, and folk. Oh lord, in my mind I just feel like Mingyu would be the type of hopeless romantic to fall in love with a dead person. I hope y'all enjoy!

Not proofread!

MASTERLIST

He was oh so gentle with you. The way he was careful with his movements as he heaved your stretcher onto the table. Your eyes followed him as he went ahead and gathered various things from around the room. Setting them on a table near you. A deep breath settled in him as he scanned your body. You felt vulnerable in this state, not much you could do about it but still. He got a clipboard and read through it. As he did he circled you, tapping gently at different parts of your body as he went along. Assessing your situation and what he would have to make "presentable" no doubt. Then he stopped. Pausing as he made his way back towards your head. Another sigh as he gazed at you. "You were so pretty. I wish we had met under other circumstances y/n." If a heart was in your body it would be beating so fast right now. His hand reached out and grazed your forehead. Is he moving the hair from your face? If you had working veins you would be blushing wildly. This is crazy. You've decided that this is crazy. Your soul for some reason has decided to stick to your body instead of following the heavenly trumpets towards the pearly gates of paradise. And here you were, prisoner in your own skin, unable to move or speak or do much of anything. And the only thing on your mind is the man who is preparing your body??? Oh, Christ. What the actual hell is happening? Also, why does it seem like the mortician is just as invested in you? Are morticians supposed to have organ jars in their preparation rooms? You suppose they do take care of those sorts of things, plus he's the professional in this situation, right? "The more I look at you…The more I wish…What am I saying?" he shook his head with a huff. Your eyes were open, not like you could willingly close them, but you were somehow able to see in this state. You could see the way the protective gown fell on his arm, very faintly outlining some sort of muscle. The way his breath caught on the mask, not shallowly at all either, a heavy breath. Almost like when he looked at you you had taken it away and he was grasping to get it back. The gloves that held snug to his big fingers, his warm hands, the ones that graced you gently with every touch. So caught up in memorizing his features you hadn't noticed that he was tracing your inner arm and staring right back at your lifeless eyes. "Actually, you might be perfect and these might just be perfect circumstances y/n…" he tilted his head as he said those words, gazing deeply at all of you, taking you in like some person at the other end of the bar. Why was he walking away? What did he mean by perfect? Is he walking over with one of those jars right now? Lord, you should've followed the trumpets…

{Right on time, just minutes after voting closed, let me know what you think, love you all!}

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 7

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When Parker starts to let go of her initial assumptions about a man that makes a lasting impression, she starts to see that there's more to him than meets the eye. Yet, she can't help but wonder, why does he insist on acting like an asshole?

Read the story here: prev / ...

Parker was dying.

Had to be, anyway, because her organs felt something like slushy-mud water inside her chest, and there was something pounding against her skull that made it hard to think. She couldn't remember the last time she felt like this—her own birthday, maybe—and though she didn't put a lot of emphasis on her own personal health, she was certain that this time she was dying.

Really, really dying.

"I fucking hate Colt," she muttered, cheek pressed against the cool kitchen counter as an antacid tablet dissolved in her cup of water with a looming zzz. It almost hurt to watch, and when half the tablet broke into a chunk to send a torrent of bubbles up to the surface, Parker grimaced. "...blonde bastard."

Her sentiments went unheard in the empty kitchen.

It was still early, and her body ached to return to the couch. It wasn't comfortable by any means, worn in all the wrong places with scratches lining the surface, but it was horizontal, and it didn't involve sorting through books while greeting customers. If she hadn't been so adamant about setting three alarms the night before, Parker surely would have left the bookstore locked up all day.

But, as it was, she needed money, and a Saturday was too good a day to be an irresponsible property owner. So, here she was, crying on the kitchen counter watching her antacid dissolve in hopes that it would miraculously cure a hangover.

She grimaced at the sticky dryness of her mouth.

In hindsight, that last beer probably hadn't been the best idea.

And, in further, more truthful hindsight, neither had been the beer she drank after that one in the parking lot while waiting for their Uber. It had been Dan's challenge to do it under thirty seconds, prompted further by Colt's off-key acapella rendition of We Are The Champions, and though Parker wasn't good at many things, shotgunning a beer was something she was good at.

Who was she to waste a talent?

Her stomach turned at the thought, and she was in the middle of contemplating puking all over Colt's kitchen, when footsteps approached her from behind.

"Well, you look peaky."

Parker groaned low and deep while pressing her face further against the kitchen counter. Jodi offered an amused smile before moving towards the fridge. Despite yesterday, she looked good. Bouncy skin, tousled blonde hair, Colt's t-shirt that didn't so much hang as it laid against her thin legs. Oh, and the happy features of someone that were clearly not suffering from a hangover.

Bastards, Parker thought glumly, the both of them.

"Want some?" Jodi asked, jug of orange juice in hand. She had the benevolence to at least look tired. Though, not nearly enough in Parker's opinion.

"D'rather have a lobotomy," Parker muttered.

Jodi somehow managed a smile and a wince at the same time. "You did drink a lot," she said. The idea of drinking anything had Parker paling, and Jodi quickly moved past it to add, "but it was really fun. I think everyone enjoyed it."

She wasn't particularly in the mood for conversation, but Parker supposed the more she talked, the less she had to think about making herself presentable for work, which meant the less she thought about work itself, so she did her best to tamper down her headache with a slow sip of her water.

"S'definitely better than last year's," she said. There was sunlight streaming through the kitchen blinds, and while Jodi didn't hesitate to pull them up, she responded by pulling her sweatshirt hood further down over her eyes. Another inhuman noise, before, "thanks for helping plan it."

Jodi beamed at the gratitude.

Though, Parker noticed with a growing self-hatred, the Englishwoman seemed to do that naturally. "I'm just glad that I could pitch in. It was a lot of fun. I've never played paintball before."

"Really? Coulda' fooled me. I think my welts have welts."

"Oh," Jodi said, hiding a giggle behind her glass of orange juice. "Sorry about that."

Parker got the feeling that Jodi wasn't very sorry at all. In fact, from the way Jodi and Colt had tore it up on the paintball field, Parker had a strong suspicion that the woman was just as competitive as the boys were.

Waving a hand at her, she said, "don't be sorry. You won, afterall."

"Oh, did we?" she chirped. "I barely noticed."

"Hmph."

"I didn't hit you too hard did I?" she asked, actually sounding curious as she leaned onto the counter.

There was a very large bruise on Parker's back side that would argue differently, but Parker instead shook her head. It sent the room spinning, however, and she just as quickly had to lay her head back onto the counter. "Had me a little scared out there, though. If anyone on set has ever given you shit before, you should just take a paintball gun with you to work."

Jodi laughed. "There are one or two," she said. From the look in her eye, it was obvious she could name them, but she didn't. Instead, her eyes darted to Parker.

"Ah," she said. "Well, you had your chance yesterday to shoot him too. I hope you took the opportunity."

At the joke, Jodi seemed to relax a bit. Her mouth tugged into a crooked smile as she popped some bread into the toaster. "I tried, but he was a little harder to get than I thought he would be..."

Her voice trailed off, and Parker arched a brow. "What?"

"Er, well, I guess I was a little surprised that you invited him. We all were, I think."

Unbidden guilt crashed down onto Parker's shoulders, and she caught her face in her hands. "I know, I know, I'm sorry... It was a last minute thing. He had stopped by the store and then we were just talking and, well, I don't know..."

Jodi's back was to Parker, but she peeked over her shoulder with curiously arched brows. "I didn't realize you were friends. Certainly not after that introduction on set."

Just the thought of that introduction had Parker grimacing. Worse still was the realization that somehow, somewhere in her mind, that Tom was in no way connected to the Tom she had brought alongside her last night. It was as if they were two totally different people, and the reminder that they were actually the same person had her stomach rolling.

Or, that could have been the hangover. Whatever.

Parker picked at a loose thread on her hoodie. "Was Colt upset?"

"That you brought Tom?"

"I didn't ruin the night, did I? I know that he can be a total prick, and that everyone else has bad feelings towards him from work, but... well, I guess I was hoping that everyone else enjoyed last night as much as I did. I mean, I know he's a prick, but he's at least okay to be around sometimes."

"Can you remember?" Jodi teased from beside the coffee maker. It beeped as she fiddled with it, before she was puling mugs out of the cabinet. Obviously, she had been here before.

"Does Colt hate me?"

Her smile was soft and graceful. "No, he doesn't hate you. I'm not sure he could, if I'm honest. He talks about you a lot, you know."

Parker didn't think that was necessarily a good thing, but she wasn't about to scold her brother for talking about her on dates. Not when he was actually going on them and she was at home marathoning trashy reality tv.

"And, as for last night," Jodi continued, "everyone did have a lot of fun. No nights were ruined."

"Not even...?"

"The Uber driver was actually quite nice about it," she said, skipping over the issue entirely. A good thing too considering the thought of last night made Parker woozy, and she certainly didn't want to relieve that car ride home. Or the two stops they had to make for her and Colt to throw up on the side of the road. "Honestly... I was pleasantly surprised."

Parker frowned. "By the Uber driver?"

"By Tom," she corrected with a laugh.

"Really?"

Jodi shrugged. "Granted, I don't know him nearly as well as Colt, and he was an awfully sore loser. I mean—really awful—you should have heard him after paintball."

"Oh, I did," Parker said. "I just blocked it out."

"And yet..."

Parker arched her brows.

Jodi smiled, then shrugged once more. "He wasn't nearly as bad as I thought he would be. Losing, I mean. He didn't threaten to fire anyone or sue anyone—"

"Speak for yourself," she muttered under her breath, cup of liquid antacid looking more unappealing by the second.

"And by the end of the night... well, I think he was actually getting along with some of the others. Not really well, mind you. He is still a prick."

Parker snorted. "I don't think anyone was doubting that."

"But a manageable one. It actually felt like he was hanging out with us, you know, rather than dictating on set."

Parker tried not to sound too hopeful as she tugged on her thread. "Yeah?"

Obviously, she failed, because when Jodi smiled there was something conniving to it. Something suspicious twinkling her eyes. Yet, the woman didn't dig in deeper. Just moved on. "He might not admit it, but I think Colt was more pleased than he let on when Colt said he was a great stuntman. I was too. Mind you, on our last film, Ryder asked Colt if he could get a jaw implant to look more like himself."

Parker made a face. "Yeah, I heard about that."

"I think this was the first time he ever complimented Colt. In, like, a decade of working together. Can you believe that?"

She could. The guy was a prick. But also, Parker didn't want to believe it—struggled to envision that as the same guy that had come to her bookstore twice now—and so she sipped her water so she didn't have to respond.

Jodi, however, noticed all of that. "Since when have you two been friends?"

"Friends? We're not—it's not—we just... know each other."

"Hm," Jodi hummed, clearly not buying it. "Yet you brought him to Colt's birthday party. And apparently you talk."

"I don't plan when he come to the store," she said defensively.

That surprised Jodi, and as she filled the mugs up with coffee, she said, "oh. When you said you were talking I didn't realize you meant in person. You literally dragged him to the birthday party, then."

"I wouldn't say I dragged him," Parker muttered as she accepted a mug. The coffee was low quality and definitely burnt from Colt's stupid machine, but just the smell of it had her feeling better. She cradled the steaming hot mug between her hands with a deep inhale. "What did you think I meant?"

"I thought you meant you were talking on the phone."

"Colt told you about that? It's so weird. I still have no idea how he got my phone number," she mused, chancing a sip. It burned her tongue immediately, but Parker didn't care. She was not a morning person, and didn't function this early unless she had three cups of coffee. Hangover or not. "The prick."

Jodi hedged from her cup of coffee, but didn't say anything.

Parker shrugged. If Jodi didn't want to rail on Tom Ryder being a prick, that was her decision. Moving on, she added, "anyways, I really did appreciate your help with the party, even if I ended up fudging the team numbers by lugging Tom along. You were a life saver with getting everyone's phone numbers."

Whatever Jodi had been thinking passed over, and she smiled. "Yeah, of course. Thanks for letting me help. I know... you know—Colt's your brother—I'm not trying to, er... step on anyone's toes."

It was funny to watch her get flustered, and Parker gave the woman an impish smile as she took another sip of her water. "Colt's a big boy, and he can do whatever he wants," she said. "Besides, I think you're great. Why would I have a problem with you wanting to help plan his party?"

"You think I'm great?" Jodi asked.

To that, Parker rolled her eyes, and though it had the pounding behind her temples start up again, it felt worth it. "You get enough compliments from my brother, you don't need to go fishing for them with me too."

"Me? No. I hate fishing. Detest it, really."

Parker harrumphed, but couldn't help but snicker as she took a deep whiff of her drink. "Well, if you aren't fishing, then I don't need to tell you that he doesn't act like this with just anyone," she said before taking a long sip. Too long, and it burned her mouth immediately. "Fuck!"

"Hot?"

"I thought you weren't fishing anymore," Parker muttered while wiping drool off her chin.

"I was talking about the coffee!" Jodi cried in response. But then she caught the haughty look Parker was shooting her and couldn't help but laugh. The sound hurt her ears, but, god, if everything about the woman wasn't perfect. "You and Colt, honestly. The things that you say are so ridiculous."

She vaguely remembered Tom saying the same thing the night before. A smile pulled at her burnt lips. "Tom would agree. He said something similar last night."

That look returned. "You know, for not being friends you've come a long way from calling him an asshole. I thought you were going to break his nose that day on set."

Parked moaned. "Oh, not you too."

"I'm just saying," Jodi defended from behind a steaming mug of coffee. She blew on it coolly, as though the answer to her question didn't matter in the slightest. "I just couldn't help but notice how well you were getting along last night. Spent a lot of time together, too."

"Shah, because some Englishwoman came and stole my brother from me," she retorted blithely. "I always knew boomers complained about immigrants stealing jobs, but stealing drinking buddies is a little vindictive. Even for the English."

"Oi!" Jodi exclaimed, though it ended in a laugh. "You and Colt spent plenty of time together last night. If I recall, we were trying to get away from you lot and that ridiculous game of yours."

Parker perked. "Game?"

"Something about a cat in the woods."

She thought through the previous night's events, and when the card game came to mind, her stomach rolled a second time. Moaning, she willed herself to disappear into a universe where responsibilities didn't exist. "Ugh, no wonder I feel like I'm dying."

"It was a ridiculous game. The amount you drank was ghoulish."

Something rolled in her stomach. "We don't have to—"

"And the rules didn't make any sense. It's all about drinking, drinking, drinking—"

And yep. That did it.

Parker barely made it to the toilet before she was puking up a stomach full of last night's drinks. The bathroom floor was cooler than the kitchen counter, at least, and as she caught her breath, she vowed to never drink again. Or play that retched game.

From the doorway, Jodi grimaced. "Sorry."

Parker haphazardly waved her off. "S'fine. Just do me a favor and kill Colt for me, will you? The bastard..."

Jodi smiled. "I think he might already be dead."

"What?"

Jodi inclined her head to the left, and Parker turned to find her brother curled into a ball in the bathtub. He was wearing his Miami Vice jacket backwards, and his bucket hat was drawn low over his eyes. He was so pale that she might have actually thought he was dead if it wasn't for the quiet groan of misery he let out.

"He's been in here for an hour," she said in lieu of a proper explanation. "Ran in here, threw up, and then passed out in the shower because it felt nice. I decided to leave him. Just seemed easiest."

Parker didn't doubt that.

"What a fucking idiot," she said instead, and though Jodi didn't respond, when the blonde sipped her coffee, the smug grin she was wearing made it obvious that she agreed.

---

Two coffees, a greasy bagel, and an antacid tablet later has Parker feeling moderately like a human being. The hangover is still there—teasing the inside of her skull every couple minutes—but it's better now. More manageable, at the very least.

Of course, manageable hangovers at work don't make for good working environments, and as the door rings with the sound of a brass bell, Parker adjusts the sunglasses perched on the edge of her nose.

"Hi, welcome in," she says. Though, when she looks she realizes that it's not a customer, but instead a tween girl with far too much trouble in her eyes. "Oh, it's you."

"You could sound a little more enthusiastic about it," Melissa chides, arms jingling with the sound of too many stacked bracelets to count. She looks pretty today—she looks pretty every day—and though Parker isn't in the mood for vibrant conversation, she can't deny that it's always nice to see her most loyal customer. "I am your number one, afterall."

"Number one...?"

"Customer!" Melissa chirps with a smile as if she can hear Parker's innermost thoughts. She swings closer to the counter with dancing eyes. "I have a couple more ideas I wanted to run by you before tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Sunday," Melissa says slowly, blinking. "Hello? Does painting sound familiar to you?"

Parker pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh. She's all out of interest in paint; the welts on her ribcage haven't been forgotten, and she can feel something tweaking in her lower back from being bent over for hours at a time.

God, she's old.

"I thought we were about finished."

"Finished? Not even close," Melissa corrects her. She settles her tote bag onto the counter. Her nose scrunches distastefully as she glances around. "We only did the walls. We still have to do the shelves. And I think those will take longer since I want to add some cute detailing to them. Have you thought about shelf liners?"

"What the hell are shelf liners?"

"You know," she gestures. "Like wallpaper, but for shelves."

"That sounds expensive."

"And totally worth it. Look," she sticks her phone across the counter, Pinterest page already pulled up, and starts scrolling. The speed at which she's doing it, however, as Parker's eyes going crossed. She sits back with a groan. "It's not that bad!"

"No, no, it's not..." she starts, then stops. "Can we just talk about this tomorrow?"

Melissa pouts. "Fine, but we'll probably need to start painting first thing, since you can't put the books back up until the shelves dry completely."

"Are we sure this is even necessary?"

"Completely," the girl says, and there's no room left for argument as she pops her hip out. "I told you this place looks so much better already, but the shelves will be worth it. It'll really help everything pop. And I have some ideas about stickers we can use to make cute signs for all the book sections."

Parker sighs. "Don't you go to school?"

"Yeah. And?"

"How do you have time for all of this stuff?" she asks, a floppy hand gesturing half-heartedly to the room around them. She doesn't mean to offend Melissa in any way, but she can't imagine that there's a teen girl out there who spends all of her time dedicated to fixing up a dilapidated bookstore. "Shouldn't you be in, I don't know, cheerleading or something?"

Melissa shoots her a tart expression. "Cheerleading is so totally dated, Park. Sexist, too. They just have skinny girls wearing tiny little skirts for the objective male gaze."

"...right."

"Besides," she continues, bracelets jangling as she pops a piece of gum into her mouth. "I love this place."

Even more bewildered, Parker repeats herself. "...right."

"Speaking of—" Melissa says, and when she leans against the counter there's a waft of vanilla and lemon perfume. Parker almost gets sick at the strength of it, and she sips her coffee with a grimace. "When are you going to hire me?"

"I already did."

"For real," Melissa asserts, digging her heels in. "You said you'd think about it, and you've had plenty of time. I mean all you do is hang out here."

"Okay, ouch."

"I want a job."

"Can we talk about this tomorrow too?" Parker whines. She knows she's the adult in the situation, but... well, she really doesn't want to be. The idea of doing math and taxes has her head spinning painfully. "I'm—I have a headache."

Melissa narrows her eyes at that. Smarter beyond her years, the girl doesn't miss much, and when she leans across the counter, Parker wishes her sweatshirt would swallow her whole. "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look bad."

"Oh, gee, thanks."

She waves a hand indifferently, and squints. "Not like that. I mean you look like you're sick. Are you sick?"

Her stomach roils, and Parker tries to hide the uncomfortable wince behind another sip of scalding black coffee. "A bit."

"You were fine on Wednesday."

"Must have caught something," she lies. The last thing she needed to do is be blamed for being a bad influence on a teenager.

Melissa furrows her brows, reaching to plant a palm against Parker's forehead. She tries to duck it, but only manages to send the room spinning a second time. "You don't feel like you have a fever."

"Twenty four hour bug I guess," she says, waving a hand as if it really was that simple. It wasn't, and when she bends down to scoop a pile of books off the ground her vision flashes white. Colt was such a fucking bastard. "Ugh."

"Oh. My. God."

She slams her eyes shut, head steepled between three fingers, already knowing what was about to come. Parker really can't handle Melissa's high-pitched tone of judgement, however, and considers just giving the girl the keys to the store right then and there. "Don't."

"Are you—?"

"No."

"—hungover?" Melissa finished anyways. She whispered the word like it was some big secret, but by the way that her eyes widened and her mouth pulled into a sneaky grin, it was obvious that the news was all too interesting to her. Especially when Parker didn't answer her right away. "Oh my god! You totally are!"

The boom of her voice had Parker's head hurting, and she let her head fall into her hands with a groan. It was a saving grace that the store was empty.

Well, not entirely a saving grace considering she needed customers, but...

"What happened?" Melissa pried. "Did you go on a date last night?"

"You think I would get black out drunk on a date?" she asked.

The girl shrugged. "I don't know, maybe it went really well."

Parker rubbed her temple wearily. "You're not going on dates are you? Because you shouldn't be getting black out on the first one, ever. That's dating one-o-one."

"Oh, whatever," she flipped a perfectly manicured hand at Parker before settling further onto the counter. It was obvious that she had sunk her teeth into the subject. The last time she done that, she convinced Parker to repaint the entire store. Hopefully, this one wouldn't be as expensive. "Not a date then. What'd you do?"

Parker sighed. "It was Colt's birthday party."

Melissa ooh-ed with a dreamy smile. "I can't wait until I can drink. Legally, I mean. Obviously I've tried beer before," she said with batted eyelashes. It seemed that she was completely ignoring the very real reality of what happened when one drank too much, and Parker rolled her eyes. "Why did you come in today? When my brother drank a lot at Christmas he was in bed until dinner the next day. Mom said he had the flu, but, like, come on."

Parker gave a half-hearted hum. Any other day a glimpse into Melissa's home life would have amused her—teenagers nowadays really did baffle her—but at the moment she didn't have the mental capacity to do much other than try not to die. "I had to open the shop."

To that, Melissa grinned. "Well, if you had another employee..."

"Oh, please, Melissa," Parker threw up a hand with a groan. "Seriously. Not today. I'm weak willed. I can't have this conversation; I'm not in the right mind, and nothing will be legally binding."

"I'm just saying!" the girl threw up her own hands with a laugh. There was something conniving about it, though. Something glittering in her eyes. "If you had another employee, then you would be able to take a morning off every once in a while. How is that a bad thing?"

"You're taking advantage of me," Parker pointed out with a sour frown.

"Actually, you could argue that I'm trying to help you."

"Hmph."

"But, now that we're on the subject," she continued, eyes flapping like Bambi as she walked a slow circle. Only, Parker got the distinct impression that she was a hen stuck with a fox, and as she wiggled her sunglasses nervously, she tried to remind herself that she was the adult in the conversation. "The store looks way nicer, and you've been getting compliments from people, and I still have a lot more ideas for what else we could do. Don't you think that hiring me would benefit us both? We could start doing work throughout the week which means you would get your Sundays back to yourself."

Parker slumped onto her hands. "Are the devil?"

"Parker," she whined, returning to the counter where she delicately propped her head on two palms, ever the essence of beauty and grace. "Please?"

The throbbing in her head hadn't gone away, and the sweat dripping down her back was as uncomfortable as it was gross. Parker had avoided every mirror in her house that morning knowing that however she looked wasn't pretty, and having someone actually pretty blinking at her made Parker feel slightly violent.

And sick.

And, well, maybe having a second employee around for the days that she was sick wasn't the worst idea out there. Not to mention that Melissa had garnered her lots of compliments over the past couple of weeks, and the store did look the best it ever had. The girl had good ideas, Parker couldn't deny that. And she certainly didn't lack a work ethic. She had been begging for a job for weeks now, and didn't once skimp on her painting responsibilities when they came together on the weekends. If anything, she was giving herself more to do every time she came.

She let out a long, self-suffering sigh. "...alright."

Melissa froze. "Really?"

"Part time, three days a week, and Saturday mornings."

"Really?"

"And I'm not paying more than minimum wage."

Her eyes were the size of saucers, waiting on baited breath, as she asked a third time, "really?!"

Slowly, Parker nodded. "Really."

Melissa jumped, squealing, and if her head hadn't hurt earlier, it was like an elephant coming through in a parade. Hand up, she said, "okay, okay, but you have to stop before I hurl. Seriously, this energy is... not a good way to start out as an employee."

"This is so sick," Melissa said anyway, unfazed by Parker's white-washed face. "I still think we should do liners for the shelves, and little gold accents, but that'll take a while, so maybe tomorrow we just start with painting this section—"

She gestured as she talked, and she talked a lot. And though Parker was only half paying attention, she hummed and nodded when appropriate. Afterall, the store did look so much better, and she could use another employee. Particularly one as clever as Melissa.

Sipping her coffee, she smiled.

Until she felt another wave of nausea.

One of these days, she swore, she would seriously kick her brother's ass.

---

Crave Cafe, only two blocks down from her own bookstore, was like stepping into a different world. The cafe itself was beautifully decorated, vintage artwork on the wall, string of pearls hanging from rope baskets in the corners, with soft LED lights in the shape of lightning bolts and cappuccinos on the wall. Discolored and misshapen mugs could be seen scattered throughout the inside, with every odd table occupied by varying individuals. Chatter echoed throughout over the sound of coffee grinders and a Spotify playlist, and though Parker was always a little sore that Crave's clientele didn't show much interest in her own storefront, she had to admit that it was her favorite place around.

Not just because the coffee was cheap, the bread always freshly made, and the general ambiance, but also because the manager, a young man named Harry, was always happy to see her.

"Don't tell me you're working again today," he said while setting about putting her order together. "I thought you were closed on Sundays."

Parker shrugged. She felt much better today, having a full night's sleep and a long shower, and though she was about to go back to more painting, she was in an arguably good mood. "Melissa's taken over the store, I'm afraid. She keeps seeing stuff on Pinterest that she's wants to try."

"Too scared to tell her no?"

"Is it lame if I say yes?"

Harry laughed, slinging a pink and yellow patterned towel over his shoulder. "I can't say I blame you. Kids nowadays are frightening. I have my own group that hangs around for hours that I'm too afraid to shoo away. When did girls get so intimidating?"

Parker followed his line of sight to a trio of teen girls. They ducked their heads at being spotted, giggles erupting from their table. "I think you're teens are a little different than mine," she pointed out with an arched brow. "Namely, Melissa isn't hoping I'll ask her to the prom."

Harry laughed at that. Parker didn't wonder why there were teen girls ogling him—he was an objectively attractive guy, white teeth, nice tattoos, good sense of humor, and the odd finger painted black, he was practically a knockoff Pete Davidson. Apparently, that was what every girl wanted nowadays. "Not that you know of, anyway," he teased while working the frother. "I'll have to come over and check it out for myself. Bet it looks nice."

She rolled her eyes with a snort. "Anything looks nicer than it looked before," she said. "I did finally get rid of that weird smell though. Score for me. Only took three gallons of Pine Sol and way too many candles. Which, I think are actually toxic but whatever. A wins a win."

He laughed again while sliding her coffees across the counter. "How late do you think you'll be there today?"

"Knowing Melissa? Till midnight. She's a bit of a hard ass."

"Perfect. I'll stop by after my shift."

"That's very presumptuous of you," she chirped, smiling. It was hard not to smile when talking to Harry. She wasn't naive enough to ignore his flirting; particularly when she stopped by three times a week for her caffeine fix. But Harry was like every other surfer in California—flaky, flirty, and trouble. Not her type in the slightest, but he was a friend, and often gave her coffee on the house. "But, if you must, bring me a bagel?"

He winked. "Anything for a pretty girl."

Parker shook her head with a smile and gathered her coffees and sandwiches up before leaving. The table of teenagers shot her dirty looks when she walked by, to which she smiled right back.

The walk back to her shop was short, stalled only when she stopped to pet a slumbering bulldog along the sidewalk. The bell overhead jingled when she entered. Despite the CLOSED sign on the door, she never bothered to lock up when they were painting. If someone was stupid enough to stumble in, she figured they would be stupid enough to fork over some cash on a book or two. And Parker would never say no to cash.

"I got the coffees!" she called when Melissa didn't immediately come to the front. Music played softly on the speakers, but the store seemed empty. Shelves had been shifted to the side with stacks of books off to the other, and the tarp crinkled under her sneakers as she walked over it. "Melissa? Hello? Did you...?"

Trailing back further proved that Melissa wasn't ignoring her, but instead in an adamant conversation.

A conversation with none other than Tom Ryder.

Parker stopped short. "Tom?"

The pair turned to her. Melissa's face was flushed, and her cheeks were split in two from the width of her smile. Her chest was heaving as if she had just been talking nonstop. Which, likely, she had.

And despite the fact that he was being mobbed by a teenager, Tom didn't seem to mind one bit. In fact, he was standing casually bent against the ladder, brows relaxed, shoulders loose underneath his expensive leather jacket. And though she expected him to greet her—like friends did—the first thing out of his mouth was, "I was wondering when you got a sense of style, before realizing that you were outsourcing to this one."

"I—what?"

Tom gestured to the bookstore as Melissa grabbed her Chai latte out of Parker's hands without so much as a thank you. "The color is much more modern, and the gold accenting really brings things together. Could use some better wall decor, but I'd bet anything nice is out of your budget."

Parker blinked. At him. Then at Melissa. "What?"

Melissa, still grinning, waved an emphatic hand at the celebrity standing across from her. "Mr. Ryder—"

"Melissa, come on, I already told you to call me Tom. We're friends, aren't we?"

She paused, flushing under his gentle comment, before tucking some loose hair behind her ear with an even bigger grin. Parker rolled her eyes at the act of it all. "Tom stopped by to talk to you, but since you were out, I let him in. He was wondering what we were painting, so I showed him what we are doing today, and then I showed him what we've done the last couple of weeks."

"Stellar, really," he chimed in. She beamed beneath his praise, and Parker swore a helicopter could have caught the brightness of her teeth from a mile away. "I think she's done a great job so far."

"I helped," Parker reminded him indignantly. Not just because he was quite obviously playing it up for the attention, but also because she was so thrown by his presence in the first place that she felt uncomfortable having walked in on them talking. "Paid it for it, too."

He acted like he hadn't even heard her. "I'll have to come back when it's finished. What design of shelf liner do you'll think you'll get?"

"I'm not totally sure. I really like the dark, forest style, with the birds and branches. But I also think that the brighter gold style would look good set against the books."

"Wait, I thought I said no to the shelf liners?" Parker interrupted.

"To which I reminded you that it would look so good," Melissa shot back. When she remembered who she was talking to, however, she gestured shyly to Tom. "Besides, he thinks it would look good too. So, that's two opinions against one, right?"

"What—he doesn't work here!" Parker exclaimed, feeling a bit like she had stumbled into the Twilight Zone. Since when did Tom Ryder have any opinion about her store besides thinking it was dirty? And since when did she care about his opinion in the first place? "It doesn't matter what he thinks."

"Should," Tom added. He looked much too smug in that moment, yet, when Melissa glanced at him, his smirk became gentler. "I mean, I do have a good eye for this sort of thing. And I'm a paying customer. Doesn't hurt to listen to your customers every once in a while does it?"

"I have the right to kick out customers, you know," she warned.

Melissa didn't like that one bit, and her voice pitched in horror. "Parker! You can't—come on. He's—you know—Tom Ryder," she said, enunciating every syllable as if Parker wasn't aware of who had stumbled into her store when it was supposed to be closed. Tom, on the other hand, pointed right back at Melissa smugly.

As if to say, yeah, I'm Tom Ryder.

Sighing, Parker pinched the bridge of her nose. Yesterday's headache seemed to be coming back full force. "I know who he is, and I don't care. And I think it's time for your break now. Sandwich?"

Melissa glanced between said sandwich, her boss, and her celebrity crush for a long moment, before accepting it with a frown. "Thirty minutes?"

"Sure."

Her mood was obviously glum as she glanced between them both once more before stalking towards the back room. She paused in the doorway. "It was nice meeting you."

Tom, for what he was worth, never missed with a grin. "Likewise. I'm glad that someone working here has a sense of style."

And just that like her glum mood vanished. Melissa smiled, blushed, and disappeared into the back room with a pep in her step. When she was gone, Tom returned his attention to Parker.

"Is that for me?" he asked. Though, he didn't even wait for an answer before he was swiping the coffee out of her hand and taking a sip. If looks could kill, it was a good thing there was already a tarp spread out beneath his feet. He furrowed his brows. "Is this an americano?"

"Yes. Mine," she snarked, grabbing it back with a huff. "Why would I have gotten you a coffee? I didn't even know you were here."

He shrugged. "Feeling generous?"

"Why are you here? We're technically closed today."

"The door was unlocked," he said, and Parker's thoughts returned to her earlier sentiments. Stupid indeed. "I do like the paint. Looks cleaner. Not so sad, anymore."

"My store wasn't sad."

"Alright, ugly."

She trailed towards the front counter with a sigh. Part of her was amused—it was nice to have someone to banter back and forth it, particularly someone like Tom—but the more sane part of her was annoyed. Only he would come drink her coffee and then insult her bookstore.

And only he would be allowed to do that. Why was that?

"Are you here for more book recommendations?" she asked, forcibly moving the conversation along as she began to unwrap her turkey, cheese, and bacon sandwich. The bread crumbled in her hands, and Parker's stomach growled at the smell. "Obviously it's a little messy right now, but I could pull a few more out for you."

He shook his head; both to shake loose fringe out of his eyes and to give her a undiscernible look. "You seem to have recovered from the party Friday night. I was pretty certain either you or Colt would be dead by now."

"And yet you didn't call," she deadpanned. "How touching."

Tom's mouth quirked at the side, and he took another long sip of her coffee. He didn't even seem to care that it wasn't his own. "Is he alright then?"

She hummed around a bite of turkey. "By the time I left yesterday morning he was sleeping it off in the bathtub. So, not really any different than last year."

"What did you do last year?"

Parker couldn't really remember, she just knew that there was a whole lot of alcohol involved, and someone set off fireworks that got them in trouble with the neighbors. "Had a poker night, I think. I don't really remember much after someone got the absinthe out though."

To that, he did laugh. Though, he shook his head and glanced away as if he didn't want her to know that he did. "I always thought that Colt was trouble, but you're no better, are you? The two of you last night drank half a cooler worth of beer."

She shrugged, completely unperturbed. Mostly because she knew he was teasing, and only slightly because she knew his partying habits would outshine hers any day. "If I recall I was asking you to drink more with us," she pointed out with a snooty look. "You were the one refusing to join in. Something about the drinks being too low brow or something."

"It wasn't the brand that kept me from drinking," he retorted. Parker didn't believe that for a second though, and when he caught the arch of her eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "I couldn't keep up with your stupid game, alright?"

"Just admit that you're a lightweight, Ryder. I won't judge you."

"I'm not a lightweight."

"Acceptance is the first step."

"You're so fucking annoying," he said with an eyeroll. But then he was peeking at her over the counter and when their gazes met, the pair dissolved into a fit of laughter. It was a nice sound; one that she quite liked earning. Parker remembered he laughed a lot at the beach, even if she didn't always remember why he was laughing. "Whatever. You better not drink that much at my party or else I'll have you kicked out myself. Just because there's any open bar doesn't mean you need to drink everything in sight, yeah?"

Parker furrowed her brows at him. "Party?" she asked.

Tom shifted on his feet, pushing off where he had been leaning on his elbows to pluck a nearby book off the counter. Absentmindedly, he flipped through it. "My party on Friday. To announce my part in the movie. You and Colt are coming, aren't you?" he said, as if this was a conversation they had before, and not something he was springing on her out of the blue.

Her first response was to make some sort of scathing response about how she wouldn't be caught dead at one of his parties. But, Parker couldn't help but notice how he shifted on his feet, how he was avoiding her gaze.

What could someone like you ever have to be anxious about? she had asked him that fateful day in the bathroom. It was so out of character then.

But now?

Tom Ryder was an asshole, but he was also a person.

She set her sandwich down onto the parchment paper. "I didn't realize we were going to be invited. Is that alright with Gail?"

He responded with a derisive snort. "It's my party. Besides, there's over a hundred people on the guest list. She won't even realize you're there. As long as you don't dress like you normally do, that is."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His blue eyes swept over her hair, to her paint stained sweatshirt that he had now seen her wearing twice, and then to the store around them. "It's going to be an upscale party. Important people are going to be there. I can't have you and Colt running around like idiots, getting drunk, and ruining mink rugs."

"Do you have mink rugs?" she shot back.

"Of course I don't have mink rugs."

"Then problem solved," she said, waving a hand at him. It certainly didn't answer all of his points, however, and when Tom stopped flipping through his book to shoot her a glare, Parker conceded with a sigh. "Alright. We'll dress nice. I won't spill anything on my pants. And Colt will be on his best behavior."

"Good."

"On one condition."

Tom's eye twitched. "You can't be serious."

"Colt get's a plus-one," she said anyway, ignoring the knit of his brows or the pull of his mouth. He responded just as she expected, with a long suffering sigh and an eyeroll. "Oh, come on! He'll bring Jodi, and no one is better at keeping an eye on him than her. Plus, you're right. We're not going to know anyone there. We'll stay in our own little pathetic poor people bubble. And if you do get annoyed with us, you can kick me out yourself. I bet you'd love that."

He sighed a second time, relaxing onto the counter. "I don't invite set hands to my house," he pointed out. Though, it was a bit of a moot point, wasn't it? Considering the fact that he was doing just that—and, if Parker had to guess—without Gail's stamp of approval. Not to mention the fact that his tone was soft. Not harsh or judgmental.

Just arguing for the sake of arguing.

Parker smiled at him. "First time for everything, right? I'll even tip off the pap. You might get some good press out of this," she teased.

And though he was playing the victim, Tom's mouth curved into a crooked smile anyway. Still, he made a roll of rolling his eyes a second time. "Fine. But seriously? Best behavior."

She wiggled her fingers at him in a mock salute. "Promise."

They stared at one another. His eyes, deep and bright, searching for something she wasn't quite sure. Her own, light and gentle, taking in everything. It never cased to surprise Parker just how handsome he was—no matter how much she wished that she was just making it up, or that his ego wasn't deserved—Tom Ryder was beautiful.

And when he smiled, she couldn't help but think he looked so much better like this than he did in all those over-touched advertisements. Here, now, he looked happy. Effortless. Real as he took another sip of his coffee. Eyes crinkled and teasing, mouth curved around the plastic lid, hair air dried but perfectly swept towards his temples.

He was—

"Hang on a minute. That's my coffee you ass!"

The ass, knowing now that he had been caught, set the empty cup back onto the counter with an empty thud, before attempting to make off with her sandwich too. And as he laughed, she was certain that she was finally starting to see the real Tom Ryder.

She kept that in mind when she let him see the real Parker Seavers, and leapt across the counter after him.

[myimaginarywonderland]

Maybe it's just me but something about this season of Doctor Who and the whole structure very much feels like it is set up for 3 seasons. Everything about this season and plots of Doctor Who has very much felt like the beginning to a longer season arc and I am curious if that is why they have already finished some filming because they have written it that way.

It would be interesting because we have never seen something like this before but I can not see any other explanation for the limited episodes and some of the storylines.

Here is why I believe it:

Ruby's story is starting to be told. We have sort of uncovered one side to her parentage while another is still a big question mark and both need to/feel like they will be explored. It feels like the end of this finale was clearly a set up for Ruby's actual story of family in the next season where there will clearly be some conflict (maybe her biological father doesn't want her , maybe she is confronted with the two versions of family she now has) that will be the focus of her storyline while also leaving some room for her to still be a companion. It seems very obvious to me that Ruby's story is written for maybe 2 seasons with a special as a last ride and therefore we are already going to be lightly introduced to the next companion once Ruby's story is told.

Ms Flood feels a lot like Lemony Snicket from ASOUE (the TV Show as I have never read the books.) I feel like we will continue to have her be a present point to us as the viewers in some way before the season 2 finale will finally confront her with the doctor and will give season 3 either the chance to be her story as a villain or to explore her role as morally grey character. It seems obvious to me that since the specials she was hinted at being a long term reoccurring character that is clearly part of a much bigger picture. I imagine with the end of Ruby's story will come a split where we finally get to meet Ms Flood on her own and have her actually interact with the doctor for her actual purpose.

Rogar ap Gwilliam. I know we technically had his hints resolved in 73 yards but especially now with his call back in the finale and all the hints we have had for him throughout the season, I am convinced he is going to have a bigger role in season 2. It just feels to continent to have him appear once yet still have him haunt the storyline in some way without there being more to him or his character. I could totally see him especially with his connection to Ruby be the villain or a big plot point of the second season.

Susan. With all the talk, the hints etc. there is no way we are not seeing Susan in some way/form or other. She was already hinted at in 12s run and with 15 she has been more prominent than ever. Not delivering on that, not having some kind off pay off for the suspension and conflict that now has already been built around her would be the cheapest and worst decision ever.

Sutekh. While I fairly confident he won't actually be back, we have now opened this whole can of Gods possibly influencing the story but first and foremost be real. There is clearly more to this than just his one appearance and God's as a conception will clearly return in some way, maybe even bring someone like the Trickster back to make this an ever more present fact.

All these plot points, all these characters have slowly been set in motion, have slowly begun to build up and some like Ruby are finally beginning to have their story told. But overall all of them on their own very much feel like set pieces that are waiting to be moved, like the opening for a play. It feels like we are watching all these smaller plots be developed for a much larger arc. If this weren't Doctor Who, I would have no doubt that this would be a show with 3 seasons that would end there because the structure seems so clear and obvious.

So I am definitely curious to see how this will turn out or if I am insane for this but this could not be 3 season arc any more clearer if it tried.

[azureseacloud]

Hidden Messages

Ghost (Band)

Part 5

Dewdrop x reader

Words: 4839

Warnings: swearing, shenanigans, ✨ghouls✨

So, uh, I know it’s been a while but I finally finished this part and I honestly don’t know what happened but somehow it is double the size of the others (oops). There goes my attempt at keeping them all the same length 😭

Not sure when the next part will be out, but I am riding the strong wave of hyperfixation that I got from watching the ghovie, so it will hopefully take less time than this part.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, and if you want to chat about ghost or the ghovie or anything really, shoot me a message (I don’t bite, unlike the ghouls ;)

Thanks for your support, love you all <3

Taglist: @gummy-dummy

@viylikescats

@ghoulettess

@starwalker3001

Striding hurriedly through the corridor, you grasped the cup of fresh coffee tightly. Its warmth seeped into the palm of your hand as the strong aroma hung in the air.

Tucked under your other arm was your laptop enclosed on a folder containing the last documents that you had finished last night. You rounded the corner, ducking down the next left and knocking on the first door with your free hand.

“Come in,” Sister Imperator’s stern voice sounded from the other side.

You opened the door, trying not to drop the laptop precariously held under your arm.

“Good morning, Sister,” you greeted her as you made your way over to stand before her desk.

She sat in her chair, a set of glasses perched on her nose. Her greying hair was done up in a tight bun with a few loose strands falling around her face. The suit she wore was a smooth grey.

“Morning. Do you have everything that I asked for?” She replied, her voice stern. That was how it always was though, and it was the one word that perfectly described her entire demeanour.

“Right here.” You handed her the folder of documents. “And I emailed the rest of them as well.”

Sister nodded as she flicked through the pages, skimming each one. Your eyes wandered around the room, scanning over the various novels and grimoires stuffed into the dark bookshelf that took up most of the room.

Practice started in ten minutes, and you were hoping this meeting would be short. You could have had extra time if not for Cirrus, who hadn’t wanted to let you go just as Dewdrop had the morning before.

Ghouls were so much like cats.

It was a similarity you had marked several times throughout working with them. Although, when you had brought it up to Phantom one time, he’d vehemently denied it, even though he’d literally been purring loudly right before you said it.

“Did you sort out the issue with the venue?” Sister asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yes, they needed an extra few forms filled out for the pyrotechnics. I filled those out, just waiting now for their confirmation, which we should receive some time today.”

She nodded, finishing flicking through the files. “Excellent work.”

“Thank you, Sister.” You smiled graciously.

“What are you planning to do today?”

“I was going to watch the ghouls and Papa practice. But if there’s something you need my help with, I’ll gladly lend a hand.”

Sister Imperator’s gaze roved over you. It always felt like she was somehow seeing through you and into your mind.

“No, that’s fine.” She looked back down at the papers again, shuffling them, before glancing back up. “The ghouls seem to be very fond of you.”

You blinked, unsure what to say. “Yeah, they seem to like me.”

Sister’s piercing eyes moved over your face, as if analysing your thoughts and feelings just by taking in your features. A chill ran up your spine before she ended the brief silence.

“Don’t ever forget that they aren’t like us. They aren’t human, no matter how convincing they may seem.” Her words were etched with warning. “I’d hate for you to get hurt. You’d be so very hard to replace.”

You nodded respectfully, her words and their possible meanings running through your mind.

“You may go.” She waved a hand, and you hurried out of the room, holding your laptop tightly under your arm. Was she trying to warn you?

Or was that a threat?

******

They were in the middle of a song by the time you made it down to the rehearsal room. The muffled thumping of the beats and the sweet cries of guitars could be heard through the walls as you beelined for the door.

Pausing with your hand on the handle, you took a moment to collect yourself. You were already aware that Dew was going to be out for your attention, just as he had yesterday. Perhaps even more so.

But he wouldn’t be the only one. All the ghouls became “absolute attention whores”—as you had heard the siblings of sin describe it—when on stage. And today, there was only one person to focus their antics on.

Why did you agree to this again?

Before you could get too caught up in your thoughts—or think back to Sister Imperator’s cryptic words that had been stuck in your head the entire walk down—you twisted the handle and opened the door.

The music washed over you in a loud wave, the blaring sounds of guitars, drums, keyboards and the vocals belonging to Papa and his ghouls filling your ears. Music was always so much more magical when it was performed live, and you were already tapping your fingers against your thigh in time with the beat.

You closed the door behind you, eyes darting immediately to the stage. Dew was staring straight at you already, deftly playing his signature white guitar. He tilted the guitar to the side, flashing the ‘You Suck’ sticker on the back in way of greeting.

How wonderful.

Flipping him off in return, you tore your eyes off his figure (holy shit that cape!) to slide over the other ghouls as you made your way to the front. Cirrus waved from her spot, flaring the blue of her cape. You shot her a thumbs up, clapping as she did a little twirl. Aurora waved as she and Cumulus sang the backup vocals into the same mic. Swiss flashed his (slightly creepy) smile, giving a delicate wave that quickly turned into him motioning ‘come here’ with his two fingers as he swayed his hips to the music.

Phantom stole your gaze then, stepping in and swinging his guitar under a leg while still playing. Behind him, Rain gave you a friendly nod, which you returned with a smile.

All of them looked amazing, the satin blue adding a splash of colour that contrasted wonderfully with their black uniforms. It gave them all a regal air, and you could see that they seemed pretty thrilled about the accessory.

You stopped halfway down the rows of benches, leaning against one as you waited for the song to finish, unsure where to sit. It was slightly daunting having them all focus on you like this.

“Cry all you want, but there’s not a single fucking thing you can do about those goddamn Rats.” Papa Copia hissed out, his bright blue jacket practically glowing under the lights.

You were nodding along until the song finished, the final echoes of the guitars fading.

“Hello lovely Sibling,” Copia greeted, speaking into the mic. You smiled back, waving shyly. “Come closer, we don’t bite—well they do but I’m sure you’re used to that.” He laughed at his little joke, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

Copia was always a friendly face, with his cheeky jokes and eccentric quirks. He was very different to all the other papas, but you liked him. He’d made you feel comfortable when you had first arrived here, and that was something that you were always reminded of when you saw him. He still checked in every now and then, ensuring that his ghouls were treating you right and that Sister wasn’t working you too hard.

“It sounded really good,” you called up at them as you made your way to the front. You forced your eyes to stay on Copia, even though you wanted to look at the ghoul to the right of him. You’d have plenty of time to admire Dewdrop later, you reminded yourself, although you weren’t sure if it was a good idea to give him that satisfaction.

“Ah, thank you my dear. It will be nice to have someone in here to perform for. We all have a few new tricks to test out.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, getting a laugh out of you as you sat down in the front row, slightly to the right.

Papa grouped the ghouls together, probably discussing the order of songs or those ‘new tricks’ he had mentioned. After a moment they all returned to their positions as Copia vanished somewhere up the back, most likely to make a grand entrance for the next song.

Your gaze flicked to Dew as he stepped over to the very edge of the stage, looking down at you in a way that had shivers racing down your spine.

That was a view you could get used to.

Your eyes began tracing his figure, stopping to admire certain points—the way he held the guitar casually, how his hand wrapped loosely around the neck, his fucking gorgeous boots that you had always been so jealous of, and the way his jacket clung to his form. Then there was the cape. That fucking cape. The buckle clasped across one side of his chest like an insignia, the blue spilling out over his should—

You stiffened, snapping to realisation of where your thoughts, and your eyes, had travelled to. Fuck.

Looking back up sheepishly, you could feel the ghoul’s cocky smirk, knowing he would have been watching you the whole time. Darting your eyes back to the front of the stage, you cleared your throat, kicking one leg over the other and leaning back in the seat, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Aw, don’t get all shy on me, my dearest.” The smug edge in his voice was unmissable. “There’s no need to be embarrassed for liking what you see.” You rolled your eyes, ignoring the subtle heat that had settled in your cheeks. Or at least, you hoped it was subtle.

“Relax Dew,” you lightly called up to him. “I was just having a look at the new cape. Cirrus has been telling me all about it.” And it certainly looked fucking amazing on him, but you weren’t going to say that. “Believe it or not, not everyone wants to fuck you.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you knew that you had just set yourself up.

The ghoul cackled, leaning over the stage to look down at you. “Wrong, sweetheart. And the way you can’t keep your eyes off me tells me that you definitely do as well. All you have to do is ask, lovely sin, and I’ll show you just how much you’re missing.”

You stared back up at the ghoul, mouth falling open. You heard him huff a laugh at your reaction, sending heat rushing to your cheeks. Before you could protest—or keel over and die from what he had just said—Mountain’s drums echoed out and just like that, the music started.

You instantly ripped your eyes away from the cocky ghoul, pinpointing Cirrus who was jumping around at her keyboard. She waved and you managed a small wave back. But even without your eyes on him, all you could think about now was that fucking fire ghoul and what he had just said.

Unholy shit, did that mean he knew how you felt about him!? Had your reaction just given it away? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Maybe he was just messing with you. That was all, right? He didn’t actually want to fuck you—did he? What if he did?

More importantly, was he aware that his words had literally just short-circuited your brain? Deep fried it? Baked and roasted and toasted? The rehearsal had barely even started and he’d already got to you.

You snapped out of your spiralling thoughts as Copia reached the microphone just in front of you, his voice pouring out the lyrics to Call Me Little Sunshine. You could hear your frantic heart thumping against the beat of the drums, as you tried to focus on what Copia was singing, and not those other thoughts that were fighting to overrun your mind. You had to pull it together.

Then that ghoul waltzed smoothly into your eyeline, his fingers skirting along the frets of the guitar. Unbidden, a picture rose to mind of him running those fingers along your body, as his mouth—

Nope, you were not going to think about that right now.

You shifted in your seat, catching the smug tilt of Dew’s head, as if he was aware of the turn your thoughts had taken. You exhaled, recovering your composure, and returned your gaze to Copia.

“You will never walk alone,” Papa sung, his beautiful ghostly voice and intense eye contact giving you chills as you watched with awe. “You can always reach me. You will never ever walk alone.”

“Call me!” Swiss, Cumulus and Aurora’s voices rung out, hauntingly beautiful in their harmony. Swiss smiled at you again, flashing those brilliant white teeth, and you smiled back.

The performance really was amazing, especially being this close to the stage. You’d gotten the job a few months ago, in the middle of their break, so you hadn’t really had the opportunity to see them perform, except for the occasional event at the clergy. But that usually ended with you in the back of the crowd, so watching them today was a whole different experience.

Dew crossed your vision again, this time pointing at you as it reached the chorus again, then making a ‘call me’ motion. Rolling your eyes with a smile, you watched as Rain cut in front of him, languidly reaching his ringed hand out towards you. You reached out as well, your hands too far apart to touch.

Then Phantom pushed in front, leaning backwards over the stage, his upside-down goggled eyes staring at you. Rain and Dew both grabbed the Quintessence ghoul before he fell, pulling him back on the stage as the song ended. You giggled as Rain steadied Phantom, while Dew just gave him a smack on the helmet.

Once they’d sorted that out, Dewdrop stepped up to the front and launched straight into Square Hammer. The three guitarist ghouls were in front of you as they began on the opening, Dew leaning back with Rain. Phantom joined them for the next part, all of them stomping in unison.

You really wanted those boots. Maybe you could steal a pair off Cirrus.

As Papa’s voice began, Dew threw a pick at you. Somehow, you miraculously managed to catch it before it hit your face, raising an eyebrow at the ghoul as he swaggered back to his side of the stage. You slipped it into your pocket, hiding the smile it brought to your face.

It went on like this for a while as they went through every song on their set list. You were bobbing your head and tapping your fingers with the beat, singing along with them. When Cirrus came over for her solo in Mummy Dust, you loudly cheered her on, both of you blowing kisses at each other.

On the other hand, Dewdrop was certainly out to get you. Aside from his usual movements and charm, he was definitely putting on a show for you: hovering on the edge of the stage right above you, running his hands along his body slowly in a way that had your heart racing, licking his fingers and even the guitar, plus a whole lot of other innuendo gestures and actions he seemed to fit into each song.

You were certain the little gremlin was making sure that you were looking in his direction whenever he did any of those actions. It was driving you crazy—and although you tried your hardest to pretend otherwise, you were sure that some of your reactions were noticeable. Worse, you almost couldn’t take your eyes off him, and your thoughts kept spiralling as much as you tried to shut them down.

But by Satan, you were loving it.

Toward the end of the rehearsal, during a short break, Cirrus hopped down the stage and came over to you.

“How are you going?” She asked with the hint of a smile in her voice. You were sure your face said it all—you were practically buzzing with energy.

“Fucking fantastic,” you answered back, nodding at her cape. “You were right about looking absolutely stunning.”

“Aw, thanks gorgeous.” She did a small twirl with it, then grabbed your hands and pulled you up to stand. Staggering at the unexpected movement, she used her grip to steady you.

“What are you doing?” You asked as she began leading you through the seats to the left. There was a little corridor there, which you assumed led up to the—oh no.

“Bringing you up to play with me,” she answered with a wicked grin as your mind landed on the same conclusion.

“Uh Cirrus, I don’t think—“

“You’ll be fine.” The corridor was small and closed off from the rest of the rehearsal room. She led you through it, her hand still firmly on yours. “So, how’s the show?”

“Really good. You’re all so amazing. And the capes are just breathtaking.”

“What about Dew?” She asked, giving you a teasing side look. “Better than those videos I keep sending you?”

“Is that even a question you need to ask? Of course it’s better.” Cirrus laughed at that, a giggle escaping you as well while your cheeks heated.

“Mmm, I thought so from the way you’ve been staring at him.”

“Shut up,” you whispered back at her. “I just can’t help it, and I think that maybe he’s noticed.” You weren’t going to repeat the words he had said to you at the beginning—you would tell her that later, when you weren’t in the same vicinity as the fire ghoul.

“You don’t say?” She gasped, sarcasm heavy in her voice as a smirk tugged at her lips.

Fuck, if that was Cirrus’ reaction then you had definitely not been subtle.

Just then, the corridor opened up into a cozy backstage area, with velvet carpeting and a set of red couches to the side. There were a couple mirrors fitted with benches—ready for last minute and mid-show adjustments, you assumed. A large rack of clothing was beside one of the couches, hung with what looked like Papa’s various outfits.

Copia was there, getting changed into his signature red jacket. He looked up as you walked in.

“Ah, are you going to join us for the next song, lovely sibling?” His eyes lit up as he asked.

“I don’t think I really have much of a choice,” you answered, as Cirrus tugged you to the front of the room. Before Copia could reply, you were out onto the stage. She brought you up to her platform and only let you go once you’d reached the keyboard, as if she suspected you might try to run away.

You looked over the stage, taking in the view of the empty room. It was admittedly a little daunting, being up on stage like this, even without a crowd present.

Yeah, maybe running away was a good idea.

“Finally come up to play with us?” Swiss called from his own platform, a hand caressing his mic stand once again. You were sure that ghoul had been a stripper in hell—if the mic stand was swapped out for a pole, you didn’t think there would be much difference.

“Yes,” you replied, nodding your head as Cirrus draped her arm around your shoulders. “I am totally not a hostage right now.”

Swiss snorted. You thought you heard another laugh, spotting Phantom as he joined the three of you.

“I see Cirrus has brought us an unwilling victim,” Phantom joked, sliding his pick along the string. You heard the sound of another guitar join the echoes of Phantom’s as Dew began playing his own solo. Even from the distance, you could see his fingers moving insanely fast.

“Show off,” Cirrus commented, squeezing your shoulder pointedly. You didn’t miss the way Swiss looked between you and the ghoul currently shredding his guitar, a smile slowly growing on his face. He opened his mouth to say something just as Papa walked out.

“Are we all ready?” Copia’s voice was barely audible over the sound of Dew’s guitar. He propped his hands on his hips, glaring at the oblivious ghoul until Rain grabbed his shoulder, stopping the fire ghoul and gesturing over at Papa.

“I said,” Copia began, this time speaking into the mic, “are we ready? Three, two, one!”

They jumped right in to the next song. It only took a few seconds before you placed it—Kiss the Go Goat.

Cirrus’ energy was contagious, and it wasn’t long before you were jumping around with her. The two of you danced around the platform, Cirrus letting you play the very few notes that you remembered from when she had taught you, while she easily covered the rest that you didn’t.

As she moved her fingers smoothly across the keys, her other hand pulled you to the mic as the pre-chorus came close. You shook your head at her, but she just smiled and drew you closer.

When it arrived, the two of you sang into the mic together, Cirrus smiling widely. You grinned back, pushing away your doubts as you shyly sung the next backing vocals along with her.

You almost didn’t notice Dew stopping by Swiss’ platform, the multi ghoul crouching down with him. Your eyes were immediately set on the two ghouls. What were they up to?

Dew stepped away, catching your stare. He started sauntering your way, stopping just in front of the platform. Tilting his head, he exhaled, smoke slowly seeping out of his helmet.

Oh. Unholy fuck.

The fire ghoul walked back a few steps, still watching you, then turned back around, returning to his spot on stage.

While you were still processing that—and how fucking attractive it was—Cirrus gave you a sharp jab in the ribs and you jolted back to reality.

“He definitely knows,” she said in your ear gleefully. “He did that just for you.”

You swatted her hand away, scowling at her. She grinned teasingly, leaning back into the mic with you as the next pre-chorus arrived.

“Please youuu,” you both sung, blending your vocals with those of Swiss, Aurora and Cumulus.

As soon as the chorus ended, Cirrus launched into her keyboard solo. Standing back to give her space, something brushed against your arm and you twisted around to see Swiss. He held out his hand, waiting for you to take it. You rolled your eyes, placing your hand in his and letting him steal you away to his platform while Cirrus was distracted.

“Having fun?” He asked, handing you his tambourine as he swayed along to the music.

“Of course.” You tapped the instrument along as the keyboard transitioned to guitar. “You guys have the best job in the clergy.”

“Actually, I think you have the best job.” Swiss leaned in closer. “You get to admire us all day.”

You smacked his arm playfully with the tambourine, the ghoul’s teeth gleaming in a teasing way as Dew’s solo came to an end. You kept in rhythm as best you could with the Tamborine, as Swiss handled the back up vocals.

Your eyes caught the shine of a white guitar as Dew threw a pick at Swiss. It bounced off his goggles, the multi ghoul making a rather suggestive gesture to Dewdrop in return, thrusting his hips against the microphone stand.

Dewdrop’s attention switched back to you, and he pointed at his chest.

“He’s the guy you wanna do,” Papa sang. Dew moved his hand, holding up two fingers. “And you know that it takes two. Luckily, he wants to do you too.”

You watched as Dew tilted his hand and curled his two fingers smoothly toward you, in a motion that couldn’t be mistaken in any other way.

Then the charming ghoul blew a kiss, before strumming out the ending of the song, twisting with just enough force to have his cape flare behind him in a dramatic image that you would mentally save in your mind.

And then he was walking away once again, Phantom tilting his head curiously as he watched the other guitarist leave.

Swiss tapped you on the shoulder, and you ripped your eyes away from the fire ghoul, mentally trying to smooth your expression.

“What?”

“He’s definitely got it out for you today,” Swiss smirked. “I don’t think I’ve seen him this feral before, especially at rehearsal.”

“No he doesn’t,” you replied back, offering the Tamborine to the multi ghoul. He took it, shaking it at you.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He flashed another smile as Dance Macabre began. “But that ghoul definitely wants to bewitch you all night.”

You let out an exasperated sigh in response, rolling your eyes at the multi ghoul as he snickered at his own joke.

The next two songs went by rather quickly. You returned to Cirrus’ platform, where Aurora and Cumulus visited to sing and dance along with you. Surprisingly, there were no visits from Dewdrop this time—which was good, because you weren’t entirely sure how many more you could take. He was all over your mind, and you were finding yourself subconsciously looking in his direction every few seconds, which didn’t go unnoticed by Cirrus.

As the last song finally ended, Copia turned around, doing a little ‘ta-da’ motion with his hands as the last of the guitars faded out.

“So, how did we do, lovely sibling?”

“You were all perfect,” you called out, giving him a thumbs up.

Papa clapped his hands. “Excellent. You were pretty perfect yourself, no? Thank you for joining us today, it’s always better to perform to an audience instead of an empty room. Now, I do believe I am wanted by Sister, but the rest of you can continue without me. I want you to do one more run through.” He began to walk to the backstage then paused, putting a finger up.

“No shenanigans.” The warning seemed to be mainly directed at Swiss and Dew. He gave them each a pointed look, then made his way off the stage.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You quickly checked it, spotting a few emails from the venue that you’d sent the pyrotechnic forms to last night. Instead of clearing it, it seemed like they had a few more concerns that you would have to address. Yay.

“Are you staying here with us?” Aurora asked, tapping her hands together.

“I would love to, but it seems like this venue has some more forms to fill out,” you sighed. “Thanks for letting me join though, it was a lot of fun. I love your capes!” Aurora and Cumulus both did a twirl, the smaller ghoul giggling as they gave you a hug before returning to their platforms.

Cirrus simply gave you a knowing grin that told you she would be teasing you all about Dew later. You sighed.

“I’ll see you later.”

“You definitely will,” she sang back.

You had a quick (and super subtle) look for the fire ghoul as you headed to the back of the stage. You couldn’t see him, and it wasn’t until you reached the doorway of the backstage room that something grabbed you by the waist, spinning you around so your back was pressed against their chest.

“Looking for me, dearest sibling?” He purred in your ear, the warmth from his body seeping into your skin.

Heart racing, you didn’t move as he leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning across your neck.

“Oh, hi Dew. I didn’t see you there.” He hummed in response, thumbs brushing over your hips and your breath hitched.

“I told you that you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes off me.” His smug voice was right next to your ear.

“I-no-That’s not true,” you countered, even as you knew it certainly was. You had no doubt he knew too.

“You’re so fucking cute when you’re flustered,” Dew murmured gleefully, running his hands along your sides as he released you with a teasing laugh.

You stood there for a moment, completely flabbergasted, as he strode back out onto the stage like he hadn’t just got your heart racing so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if you went into cardiac arrest. Reaching out a hand, you leaned heavily against the wall not trusting your legs.

Unholy shit.

Unholy Shit.

You had a lot to process. Seeing them perform up close—having him perform up close, was something you definitely needed to see again. None of those videos compared to actually being there. But at the same time, you almost felt like your heart was going to give out. He knew exactly what to do to get you flushed and heated.

And what he had just done? You could still feel the warmth of his body, his breath on your neck and hear the echoes of his laugh. It seemed that maybe, just maybe, Cirrus was right about him being interested in you.

Satan, what were you going to do now?

[heybrownieboy]

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: YOU’RE ONLY HUMAN

POV: Written. 2nd Person.

— Word Count: 1.6K

Author’s Note: It’s been 10 whole days since I’ve updated😬 I am so sorry. There was a lot of things going on in my life that I barely had ANY time for myself or to actually be able to write😭 But now everything is sorted out and I will be able to get back into making this regularly. Also, the accounts in orange in the taglist cannot be tagged :(

“What movie should we watch?” Nicholas asked.

“Twilight?” Lily suggested. 

A chorus of groans erupted amongst your friends. 

“Hell no,” Matthew said, “I can’t sit through them again.” 

Lily huffed, folding her arms across her chest with a defiant pout. You bit back at laugh at her antics, thoroughly amused. 

You and your six other friends— Nicholas, Lily, Matthew, Huening Kai, Jay and Natty— all sat in the Huening family’s home theater. It was alway the destination for your group’s weekly movie night. 

“American Psycho?” Kai asked. He was flipping through the heavy DVD binder you had brought over. 

“You and Y/N are the only one into movies like that,” Natty said. 

“It’s a classic!” Kai and you exclaimed at the exact same time. 

“That’s considered a classic?” Lily asked. 

“To Millennials and Gen Z, probably,” Jay said, shaking his head.

“The Human Centipede?” you asked with a smirk.

Lily, Natty, and Matthew all shot you disgusted looks. You couldn’t help but laugh at them and held up your arms in mock defense.

“Sorry,” you said. “I forgot not everyone has taste.” 

“Taste?” Nicholas asked exasperated. “Nothing about liking The Human Centipede screams ‘taste’.”

“My sister’s ex forced me to watch it in eighth grade,” Matthew recounted with a grimace. “I had nightmares for a week straight.” 

“Weak,” you taunted. 

“I was fourteen!” 

You giggled, hopping out of your seat and walking over to where Kai, Natty, and Nicholas were with the binder. 

“Why are all of these horror?” Natty grumbled, flipping another section of the binder. 

“Because that’s all Y/N watches,” Nicholas said.

“It’s the best genre,” you said. 

“Don’t you have enough horror in your life?” Lily asked. “Dealing with ghost and demons on a daily basis?”

You shrug. “Maybe that’s why I like it? It’s familiar.” 

“Tusk and Ichi The Killer is familiar?” Nicholas asked eyeing at the movies that were nestled next to one another.

Kai snorted in amusement. “She has dealt with spirits of murders before.”

“Honestly they’re some of the easier spirits to deal with,” you said, scanning over the DVDs.Your eyes landed on a certain one. I don’t think any of them have seen that before.  “What about The Autopsy Of Jane Doe? It’s actually really good. It was made by the same person that made The Last Voyage Of The Demeter.”

“I’m down,” Matthew agreed.

“Sure why not,” Jay said.

A few minutes later, Kai had everything set up and you were plopping yourself down in-between Lily and Jay with a big bowl of fresh popcorn. 

But it was about half way through the movie when you felt something enter the house. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes in mild annoyance. 

“Why is it every time I go somewhere, something has to crash?” You grumbled quietly, hopping up.

I really can’t just have one night? Damn. 

Kai paused the movie and looked over at you. “Is something here?” he asked.

You nodded. “It’s in the bathroom,” you said, nodding to the exit of the theater. The bathroom was right across the hall. 

Nicholas started to stand but you waved him off. “It’s fine. I’m pretty sure it’s human.”

“Yell if you need the holy water,” Nicholas said.

“Will do.” Your eyes flicked to the huge screen the movie was paused on and you sighed. “You guys can keep watching the movie. Whatever this is might take a while.”

“You sure?” Lily asked. 

“We can wait,” Natty said. 

You shook your head and started for the door. “I’ve seen it before a few times. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back.” 

The second you stepped foot into the bathroom tough, you were hit by an overwhelming strong aura. It threw you off balance for a moment but, you were able to catch yourself. 

It’s almost like Lee Minho’s aura, you thought to yourself. But it’s different. More severe. 

You squared your shoulders and eyes scanned across the bathroom.“Why don’t you show yourself, hmm?” you urged, pulling the door shut behind you. “You are here for me right? I’d like to know who I’m talking to.” 

The spirit’s aura wavered slightly— almost hesitantly. “I guess I can do that,” a raspy, deep voice said. 

You watched curiously as the spirit materialized in front of you, its aura becoming even more intense than before. Now why did that look like something out of a sci-fi movie?

You eyed the man now visible to you. He stood a few meters away closer to the bathroom’s window. He was shorter in stature with pretty honey toned skin and fluffy black hair. His big eyes were a deep chocolate brown and his round cheeks added to his cute appearance. He wore a torn up green plaid pajama set that was covered in mud and blood. A deep gash wrapped around his neck and was surrounded in splotchy bruises purple and blue bruises. You scrunched your nose at the sight of the infected wound, your stuff feeling a little queasy. 

He’s just like Lee Minho.

Your eyes then widened in realization. Slowly, you dragged them down to look at his limbs. Heavy iron balls and chains latched on to every one. Just as you had expected.

So he’s…

“You know who I am, don’t you?” the spirit asked.

“Han Jisung,” you breathed. 

Jisung nodded and gave you a small, tired smile. He lifted his arm, the heavy chain clanking loudly. “Minho-hyung has these too,” he said. “They’re really annoying. So heavy and for what?” 

“In my premonition you didn’t have any,” you said, voice quiet. 

“Premonition?” 

“You were running from hellhounds. You almost made it to Purgatory but…” 

Jisung grimaced. “I gotta go through that again, huh? Not surprised. Hey, maybe third time is the charm.”

“Jeongin had a dream about it too,” you said. “But that was eight months ago.”

“He did?” Jisung asked surprised. “Is that why he came to the mountains in the middle of the night?” 

You nodded, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “He doesn’t really remember how he got there or most of his hike through the forest. He snapped out of it when he heard you calling for him.”

Jisung clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Those things were playing games with him,” he said. 

“Wait, things? As in multiple?”

“We made a contract with three of them,” Jisung said. “We don’t know what they are but we were so desperate we acted like dumbasses and agreed.”

“You have no idea what they are?” 

Jisung shook his head. “All I can say is that two of them aren’t human,” he said. “The other one… I don’t really know. He’s still a living person so, I guess he is.” 

You stared at him shocked. “Living? You made a contract with a living person? Was it a warlock? A shaman?” 

“Maybe? Um, he did do a few spells and rituals. But I honestly don’t know what exactly he is either.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “That just makes things worse.”

A lot worse.

“Jeongin asked you for help, didn’t he?” Jisung asked after a moment.

You nodded. “Minho’s been haunting him for a little while and he asked for my advice. He tried a knocking method to talk to him and well…” 

Jisung hummed. “We didn’t want to get him involved,” he said. “We didn’t want to get anyone involved. But when we broke the binding spell to the mountain, Jeongin’s apartment was the only familiar place we could actually enter for awhile. We’ve only just been able to enter other buildings.” 

“Binding spell?” You asked, more to yourself than the man across from you. You sucked in a breath. “Okay, so this contract you made, what was it?” 

“To be resurrected.” 

You stared at him, mouth opened in shock. “Huh?!”

Sheepishly, Jisung rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah I know,” he said. “It was insanely stupid. The living guy was the one that told us he could help. He found our bodies after we were murdered. He told us we could come back to life but we’d have to do a few, uh… things first.”

You let out a soft sigh. “It’s stupid yes. But, you’re only human. Most people would accept an offer of resurrection in a heartbeat.” You rolled your shoulders. “So what were these things you had to do?” 

“It was like a trial,” Jisung said. “First, we had to make it to escape Purgatory.” 

“Escape Purgatory?” 

“It’s not as easy. Easier than escaping hell but still very difficult. The hellhounds are everywhere along the boarder. They hunt down anyone who tries to get in or out without permission. If they succeed, you’re sent straight to hell. If they fail, Azrael comes and personally sends you to hell. It’s practically impossible to escape him.” 

“But you have, haven’t you?” you asked. 

Jisung nodded. “Once,” he said. He grimaced. “When they said biblically accurate angels are actually terrifying, they really meant it. I was more afraid of him than of the hellhounds.”

I was too.  

“What happens after that?”  

“We had to sell our souls,” Jisung said. “Originally, it was only a quarter. But we were deceived. They took half instead.” 

So I was right. That’s why their aura is so overwhelming and dark.

Jisung opened his mouth to continue but halted. You watched as his body tensed up, eyes widening almost comically. 

“Shit!” he hissed.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “What’s happening?”

“They’re back already,” Jisung said, He looked around the room frantically. “I thought I would have a lot more time to speak with you. But if they see I’m gone, God only knows what they’ll do.” His eyes connected with yours. “Go to Minho-hyung. Please. He’s with Jeongin and he will explain all the rest to you. We really need your help, Y/N.” 

And with that, Jisung was gone.

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Of Chaos And Spirits Masterlist

Taglist (Open): @lily-loves-kpop @f9clementine @bookswillfindyouaway @lilyuwon @kpopjackie @i-dont-know-me-either @tirena1 @velvetmoonlght @whiteghostt @iambangchanswife @mehli-00 @chantalkkate16 @briar-rose23 @fic-for-readers

©️heybrownieboy 2024

[pink3princess]

hello, you could write a story on the reader making john wick take a personal self help day / spa day :3

spa day ₊ ⊹❀

cw: husband! jw x reader, a little mention of blood in the beginning but other than that it's cotton candy tooth rotting fluff

a/n: hi thank you for the request !! also i love your blog its really pretty<3 sorry this is very very late :(

masterlist

John plopped himself down on the expensive couch that you had just bought a month before. In his haze of conciousness, he realized that he never really got to enjoy the lush couch he bought for your new shared home.

Bloodied and covered in who knows what, he didn’t have the energy to pick himself up, clean himself off and meet you in bed.

"John?" you sofly spoke from your shared bedroom upstairs

You heard him trudge through the house as you anxiously waited up for him.

Peeking into the living room, you see his barely concious body falling asleep on the couch. Barely able to stay awake, he finally succumbed to the sleep his body craved.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢୨୧⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

The next morning he woke up with an unbelievable headache, but notices a soft pink throw blanket draped over his body.

Even though his body ached and his head throbbed with pain, the thought of you doing something so small but kind for him warmed his heart.

This only lasted for a minute or so before you stomped downstairs in your pajamas, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

He slowly sat up to greet you but groaned from being in pain, to which he laid himself back down in a sort of lounging position. You entered the living room, sitting yourself next to him on the couch.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself honey"

" I know..." he whispered, now sitting himself up and forcing himself to face your upset expression.

You cupped his face with your hand, brushing your thumb across his cheek

"I don't like to see you this way..Maybe you can just take today off at least? Let me take care of you for once," you pleaded

He instinctively wanted to say no- to trudge on with the day and push through the pain. But there definintely was another part of him screaming to relax and to give into you. You slipped your hand from his cheek and softly played with his hair, dragging your fingers through his hair and against his scalp.

he sighed, "...Alright sweetheart", knowing he had never stood a chance against you devious tricks (being nice to him) in the first place.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢୨୧⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

Next thing John knew, he was drapped over your shared white plush bed, with large, white puffed up pillows behind him to support his aching body. The room was dim with warm white lighting, and comically large cucumbers placed over his eyes. You sat on his lap facing towards him, massaging the smooth rose scented face mask over every bump and crevice on his face.

"How does it feel?" you said, breaking the silence.

He hummed in response, feeling as if he were going to fall asleep at any moment. John had never known he could feel this relaxed before.

After you had finished with the face mask and left it to do it's job, you brought out some lotions and oils, and moved onto a hand massage.

You'd noticed lately that his hands were always bloodied and bruised, filled with dark cuts healing themselves constantly, so you firgured a hand massage was just what he needed.

"Now I've never done this before so bare with me,"

He sighs out of relief as you began to press down and massage his strained muscles.

John ached from months of non-stop work. He didn't know if this was reality or just a dream from how he was feeling.

You shifted your work from just his hands, up to his biceps as well. This was heaven to him. He'd never felt so pampered in all his life.

About half an hour later, you set up a warm bath for him to really round out the night. Bringing out bath salts and an essential oil humidifier, you sat next to the tub basking in your work, as John lay slumped in the tub, gazing at your tired state.

You could tell he felt a little weird this whole time but especially now.

"What's bothering you?"

He pauses.

"I think I'm not entirely used to being taken care of like this; sitting in warm baths, having creams put on my face…being pampered…relaxing"

A small sigh escaped your lips, reaching out to grab his hand hanging out of the tub.

“Well you better get used to it” you smiled, “I want you to be able to relax more often you know? I’m not very fond of you coming home covered in blood and not being able to hold a conversation- it’s rude” a playful and teasing tone in your voice echoed in the room.

His eyes crinkled as a soft smile escaped his normally stoic face, lightly squeezing your locked hands, telling you without words that he knew what you were trying to say and appreciated you.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢୨୧⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

Skip about an hour or so later, and you both were exhausted; sleepy and ready for bed, you left him to continue relaxing while you washed up for bed yourself.

John had strained to keep his eyes open waiting for you. When you had finished, you laid down next to him, snuggling under the sheets.

He pulled you close, your chests now meshed with one another

"Thank you thank you thank you" he mumbled into the crook of your neck

You played with his hair, lulling him deeper and deeper into sleep.

“I’m glad I could do this for you today my love, I want to take care of you just as much as you take care of me...” you softly spoke,

He only hummed in response, kissing your neck and working his way up behind your ear in acknowledgment of your words

He missed this, he wishes he hadn’t worked so often and been away from you for so long.

As these thoughts ran through his head, the quiet night still between the two of you, he promised to himself that he would try to stay at home more, I mean, how could he resist after spending a day like this with you?

There you two slept, your hands still tangled in his hair, bringing him as close as possible, and him breathing you in for as long as he could, seeming to never get enough of you.

[azalawa-scroggs]

On why I think the "Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death" note was meant literally

I've had this in my drafts for a while after seeing a poll that elicited a little discussion on the topic. I know this is the fandom's majority take on the subject so I'll probably be preaching to the choir, but there (rightly) is discussion about it nonetheless so I felt like giving my arguments.

I'll put it under a read-more just in case people missed the warning in the tags. Considering the topic, naturally, here's a warning for discussion of suicide. Please take care of yourself!

The thing is that Justice For All is very, very ambiguous on that. It does what Ace Attorney is really good at doing - brushing a serious topic then waffling on it until it really doesn't say anything about it, giving itself the benefit of doubt but never making a statement. Both Phoenix and Franziska's dialogue strongly hint that they have a certainty that Edgeworth is still alive, and they're proven right. The narrative doesn't try really hard to sell us the idea that Edgeworth died - Edgeworth is even on the game's box art. I've watched a few JFA walkthroughs hunting for people's reaction to all the Edgeworth talk and his apparent death, and nobody really seems to buy it - either going through great confusion or immediately going like "oh he can't be dead there's no way - he's so coming back."

However. However. It's just impossible to ignore all the subtext that points at the note being real.

The game textually sets up Adrian Andrews as a foil to Franziska. In the parallel Edgeworth draws, Celeste is supposed to represent Manfred - a mentor she admired and whose guidance she lost. But it was a deliberate choice from the writers to have Celeste die by suicide. In the same game that spent a whole game-wide subplot on slowly revealing Edgeworth's apparent death by the exact same means. Edgeworth is the one who gives Phoenix the information about Adrian and Celeste's backstory. And Franziska revealed to us she wasn't seeking revenge for her father, but for her "little brother" - in the parallel between her and Adrian Andrews' stories, it's easy to see Celeste paralleling Edgeworth, not Manfred.

And in fact Adrian is also a clear parallel to Edgeworth himself. He, too, lost the guidance of his mentor and was left questioning everything. In the infamous scene where he interrogates her in the first phase of the trial, he even puts his own words in her mouth.

If you're going to say you would "choose death", that is of no concern to me.

If you consider Rise from the Ashes, Edgeworth's dialogue leaves even less room for doubt regarding his mental state. Compilation:

Edgeworth: Hmph. Some people need very little excuse to think ill of others. It's a fact of life. Impossible to stop. Some of them even go so far as to present me with toys like this… They think it's funny. (Referring to the award he was just given)

Edgeworth: Why, I ask you? Why!? All along, I've done only what I believe is right. I have nothing to be ashamed of! But still... Phoenix: (Wow, I've never seen him this out of sorts...)

Edgeworth: Hmph. I've had to live the past two years with rumors flying around. What's another allegation to me? Ema: Cheer up, Mr. Edgeworth! I'm rooting for you! Phoenix: (That's Edgeworth for you... Always trying to hide his real feelings.)

Edgeworth: There's no excuse for what I've done. Two years ago, I used false evidence to obtain a guilty verdict. That's what it all breaks down to, and nothing I do can erase that fact.

Edgeworth: I'm tired, Mr. Wright. I feel as if… something inside me has died. [...] I know the path I've walked. You don't need to tell me. And the path I've walked... hasn't been a just one. I can't forgive myself for what I've done... and no one else should forgive me either. Phoenix: (Uh oh. I think he's serious!)

Edgeworth: ... It's too late for me. No matter what anyone may say, I realized today that I can't change my own mistakes! Not only that, but I don't even trust myself anymore. Chief Gant was right...

And of course:

Edgeworth: If you'll excuse me… there are still some loose ends that need wrapping up. Take care, Chief Prosecutor. Phoenix: Edgeworth! What will you do now? Edgeworth: ... Phoenix: Well, whatever you do, just remember. What happened in this trial can either make or break you as a prosecutor. In the end, it's up to you. Edgeworth: I know... It seems I owe you my thanks too, Wright. But what I face now... is my problem. Phoenix: Edgeworth... I'll be waiting for you in court. Edgeworth:... Farewell.

I've pulled all my quotes from the wiki, which I believe takes the DS version, but the retranslation of the port makes things even more blatant. Instead of "either make or break you as a prosecutor," the line was retranslated as "You can let what happened kill the prosecutor in you, or you can let it help you grow."

I don't know how much more literal you can get.

Of course, none of this dialogue strictly refers to anything but a professional crisis for Edgeworth. But it is a true crisis, one he takes very deeply and personally - it is his entire moral system that is crumbling down. And the phrasing of some of those lines is downright chilling. "I can't forgive myself, and nobody should do it either" "I feel like something inside me has died" "It's too late for me" or even those ominous "loose ends"... Whatever his final conclusion, he is not doing well. That's one thing RftA makes abundantly clear.

But then why are Phoenix and Franziska so angry, you'll ask me? Grief, of course. Why is Franziska adamant he still lives? Grief, of course - specifically denial. Why does Gumshoe know Edgeworth still lives? Several options. Edgeworth contacted him knowing he'd need someone to help him come back once he decided to come back, or Gumshoe is the one that prevented his note from turning literal, or Edgeworth contacted him at some other point for another reason - it could have happened at any point in his little mental health gap year.

It just makes much more sense to me than the alternative. Why leave a note saying he "chooses death" so unambiguously only to rely on a play on words? He was shown writing a perfectly good resignation letter right before that - the note was meant to be one step further from resignation. And why leave his loved ones in the dark, mourning him, for one entire year if he just deliberately left for soul-searching purposes? The man is obtuse when it comes to feelings, and honestly I could see him pulling this, but... not in conjunction with everything else.

And his arc just makes it make so much sense as well. Depression is often a comorbidity of PTSD, which Edgeworth has, as close to canonically as possible without it being spelled out. He is in an extremely fragile place psychologically - two months earlier his trial dragged him across the coals emotionally, his traumatic past revisited and revealed in an extremely public way. His quest for "perfection" was shattered not just through the losses he suffered at Phoenix's hand but through the sudden, deep and complete betrayal of the man who taught it to him. He only had one moral high ground left - the fact that he never knowingly forged evidence - only for that to be ripped away from him too. Of course he could be nothing less than unstable.

So anyway I don't have any fancy conclusion but yeah I can't imagine "Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death" wasn't meant literally. Even though I'm pretty sure that wasn't the authorial intent, I think it must have been somewhere in the works anyway, otherwise there wouldn't be so many hints to it.

[whorunthewcrld-a]

2003

The virus was inescapable. Even for a country who consumes much less wheat then countries like America. Japan stood no chance. They were an island after all. Where could they run? 

The Sano’s ran to the Musashi Shrine. So did the other members of Toman. It was where they’d created the group after all, and the locations was optimal. Up on its hill it was easier to defend then a lot of other places. So they made it work. Set up barricades, scavenged supplies, created a little community on their hill. The six members of Toman and their families. They’d protect each other like they always had. 

_______________________

Two years into living with the state of the world and somehow they’d survived. And while “thrive” would be a stretch to describe how they were living, they made things work. They’d even added a few more to their group. Baji and Kazutora had saved a kid and his mom from a Runner and they’d joined the community. Emma liked Chifuyu, he was fun to hang out with (though he spent most of his time shadowing Baji now). And a random boy named Takemichi showed up at the shrine one day. He was a little weird, and not the best fighter, but he was a nice guy. 

Emma shook her head, bringing her back to her task. She’d been sent out on a simple supplies mission. The community was running low on some essentials and Emma was one of the best at finding what they needed. She joked it was because she always loved shopping before. Normally she would have come out with Mikey or Draken but it was just supposed to be a quick run. And she had her bow and one of the communities guns for emergencies. 

And it had gone without a hitch. Her pack was loaded with supplies and she’d only run into two Runners, both of which she easily took out from a distance. So her mood was high as she rounded the corner back to the shrine. Maybe Draken would be on guard duty and would be there to greet her. She blushed at the thought. But the second her eyes landed on the torii gate she knew something was wrong. Their barricaded doors were open and no guards where to be seen on the look out they’d built.

Emma’s heart dropped at the same time she broke out into a sprint. 

‘Nononononononononononononononononononononononononono,’ it was on loop in her head as she ran up to the doors, peeking through for any signs of infected before continuing up the steps at the same pace. But no one greeted her. There was no one tending to the garden or working on the west wall they’d started reinforcing last week. The shrine was empty. 

Completely empty.

Her family was gone. She was alone.

closed starter for @prxenuntius

[roxyandelsewhere]

Angels’ trueforms in their most memorable moments [26/?] - Nephilim fetus: regular nephil, sired by a regular angel (above) and Jack, sired by Lucifer (below)

inprnt | society6 | redbubble | teepublic | ko-fi

[nostalgia-tblr]

i miss those heady days when i was writing the anglo-saxon au and looking shit up and then not using the information in the fic but hey look i'd Researched, and the thrill of having to explain to the imaginary reader that 'this thing is SCANDALOUS in the historical context that i haven't really provided for you', and all that sort of stuff, so i would quite like to write another Historical MCU AU but i don't know what it'd be and also i kind of fear people getting somehow annoyed by it.

[indigodawns]

.