#need to contemplate which songs to add to the playlist

[quatregats]

Hi I promise I'm working on my finals (<- lying) but ummmm the fact that Zetak literally saw the lack of Basque folktronica on that playlist me and Z made a few months ago and were like what if we released an album with the coolest rising stars of Catalan, Basque, and Galician folktronica (Marala, Neomak, and As Fillas <3) and fixed that problem for you and that was so so extremely sexy of them <3333333

[bbyobbyo]

You don’t usually wake up at the same time as Jihoon, but he definitely makes sure that you wake up with him everyday.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon x non-idol!reader, domesticity, spotify as a plot point lol

wc: 1.6k

note: inspired by this reddit post which i thought was 100% something jihoon would do especially now that i know he uses spotify lol. i feel like im the only one who finds it hardest to write for their bias, i get really in my head about whether or not im portraying him in the way I want to. i’ve never written idol!au either (bc i think it’s easy to overdo) which only adds to me overthinking ahhhh but hope that you guys enjoy this one !! as always feedback or comments are appreciated 🥰 I read all of them and they make me so happy hehe

[read pt.2 here!]

Jihoon swears there's something magical about waking up to a calm and quiet morning. The sun is barely just rising, blanketing the world in a soft twilight that cuts the dark blues of the waning night. And in his bed, he finds something equally as magical: your soundly sleeping figure next to him. The world is silent except for your steady breaths, and he has to take extra caution to not fall asleep again if just to enjoy the brief moments of tranquility like this during his otherwise busy life. Eventually he gets up to start his schedule for the day, taking one last look at your peaceful slumber in fondness before he closes the door behind him.

Make no mistake, Jihoon loves his job. Having 13 members in his group is fantastic, except when you realize that 13 people requiring styling and wardrobe before every public appearance takes a lot of time. His mornings may start early, but in reality most of his time is spent listening to music in salon chairs and dozing off in waiting rooms.

In fact, it was in the middle of getting his makeup done when he discovered that around 8:20 am every day, his Spotify (which he uses to listen to his daily Bruno Mars Mix playlist) stops playing on his phone and switches to… the speaker at home? He bought a new speaker a few days ago because the last one you had was on its last legs from years of use, but if it’s malfunctioning already then he might have to look into getting a new speaker sooner than he thought.

Upon closer observation, Jihoon also notices that the song has changed — it’s playing one of his songs, your favorite one actually. Immediately he realizes what happened. He contemplates shooting you a text to tell you to disconnect him and just sync your own Spotify account to the speaker, you’re home more often than him anyway. That thought quickly disappears, however, as he imagines you getting ready for work listening to the sound of his voice and genuinely enjoying the music that he pours his heart and soul into, he can’t bring himself to disturb you even for a moment. His eyes soften as he stares blankly at the Spotify home screen, headphones now deafeningly silent. Surely, Jihoon decides, he can live without his Bruno Mars Mix for just a while longer.

-

You sometimes wonder if your boyfriend is magic. Although a good morning text has been standard in your relationship since the beginning, it's starting to concern you how perfectly timed it is.

Normally, your morning routine is simple. Wake up. Get out of bed. Bump some tunes. Check your notifications. Brush teeth. Wash face. Get dressed. Pack bag. Leave the house.

You’re usually the one to text him good morning given your later wake up time, yet he’s been beating you to it lately. Yes, he knows you set your alarm 8:15 everyday because it's “the perfect amount of time you need to get ready and still make it to work on the dot”. But that doesn't explain why “rise n shine babe :))” pops up on your phone as you brush your teeth on the days you wake up early, too.

[8:06 am] you have to tell me how you do it

[8:06 am] Do what????

[8:07 am] im onto you mister 👁👄👁

[8:07 am] 👍👍👍

You spiral through the possible scenarios in your head: he has your location, but that wouldn’t tell him when you woke up right? Does your icon move around on the map? No, the location data isn’t that accurate. Maybe when you open your phone, your Facebook status shows that you’re online? No, you know for a fact that you both haven’t opened that app in years. Hmm, did he plant cameras everywhere in the apartment? Sure, you get the security utility of it but if he did it without telling you, there would be some SERIOUS things to talk about, maybe it really is all just guesswork and coincidence?

Sigh… you’ll get to the bottom of this eventually.

-

Jihoon doesn’t plan on telling you, but rather wants you to figure it out yourself. After all, he’s been dropping so many hints already. Your chill hangouts at his studio have a gentle hum of your favorite songs as background noise. He purposely asks you about the new albums of your favorite artists that, surprise, he’s already listened to. He even makes it a point to remind you that the speaker at home is hooked to his account every now and then.

Sometimes, he swears that you’ve figured it out and were just messing with him when you make little comments about your his song choices like “Really babe, you listen to your own songs this often? Are you sure you’re not a narcissist or something?” But besides these moments, there was no indication that you knew about his secret morning routine as you questioned him regularly about his tactics.

He has to admit, it was kind of amusing to see you growing increasingly suspicious of how on earth he figures out when you wake up, being particularly fond of the cute annoyed face you make when he tells you “No babe, I did not put an Air Tag in your pajamas, you barely sleep in clothes anyway.” Even your pout is adorable as you pretend to give him the silent treatment, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. His little secret is safe for another day.

-

Jihoon has been working brutal hours lately. As deadlines for the upcoming albums drew near, his days start earlier than ever and end equally as late. However, the one thing he can always count on is coming home to you waiting for him.

It was the night of the new album release and you were more excited than usual, greeting him at the door like a lovesick puppy as soon as you heard the door handle turning. “Hi love, what are you doing up so late?” he pulls you into a quick kiss as he sets his stuff down.

“I wanted to wait to listen to the new album with you so you could see my reaction to it!” your eyes were beaming with enthusiasm. Jihoon’s heart swells at the sentiment, knowing that his partner supports him and his passions with such sincerity. You excitedly motion him to join you in your shared bedroom, full of anticipation to hear the fruits of your boyfriend’s labor for the past months. “Alright, you’re not allowed to be disappointed then” he jokes as he pulls out his phone, quickly finding the recently released album and making sure the volume is high enough before tapping the first track and handing it over to you.

Only a few seconds of the song passes before an idea flashes across your eyes. “Wait, let’s play it on the speaker!” you interrupt. You’re on your feet in seconds and before Jihoon could even reach over to press pause, you’ve already commanded your home speaker to play the track out loud. The music immediately ceases on his phone and switches over to the speaker.

Shit, he’s done for, he thinks to himself. He studies your face carefully for any indication that he’s been found out but surprisingly, your attention is laser focused on the melodies now reverberating around your apartment. You’re mostly quiet during the songs but the rhythmic nodding of your head and facial expressions are a tell all of how much you enjoy each track that plays, contorting in a myriad of impressed shapes as killing part after killing part reaches your ears.

As the album comes to an end you look like you’re about to burst at the seams. Your boyfriend can’t control his smile as compliments and detailed thoughts flow freely from your lips for the rest of the night, not ceasing even as the both of you walk through your unwinding routines together. God, you love comeback days. The elaborate music show stages that you will undoubtedly watch later that evening has already been pre-recorded, giving you precious time together in the morning before his schedule whisks him away from your arms once again.

As you get ready for bed, you drift off to sleep knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in what seems like forever, you can finally tell him good morning in person before he can.

-

Your alarm rings at 8:15 am. Jihoon doesn’t need to be up this early, but he would do anything in order to be the first thing you see when you wake. You roll around in his embrace and press a kiss to his cheek. “Good morning” you both whisper to each other at the same time, sending you both into a fit of giggles as you argue who said it first.

Jihoon watches in adoration from the bed as you so naturally go through your morning routine, one that he misses out on more often than he would like. Today, you forgo your usual morning songs as you queue up your personal favorites off the new album, much to his delight. He tries his best to burn this scene into his memory as you gather your things and prepare to head out, giving him one last kiss. You’re about to unlock the door when you pause in your tracks.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” he hums back from the bedroom.

“Enjoy the speaker, I can’t kick you off today.” you say with a smirk on your face as you exit the apartment, leaving Jihoon speechless.

[yuebings]

tag game: 9 questions for 9 people

tagged by @uhuraisgay HELLOOOOO

last song: A&W by lana del rey, which i've never actually heard before but i put spotify's "indie editor picks the best songs of 2023" playlist on shuffle in the car and that's what came up

currently watching: the long ballad/cgx!! trying to finish this pronto because zhao lusi's next show "the last immortal" airs tomorrow and im so excited....also i'm probably gonna start watching jujutsu kaisen soon i can't put it off any longer

three ships: HAO DU/LI LEYAN haoyan my beloveds......cgx currently getting my ass with them. also mulder/scully my other beloveds. and zolu is also here. bodyguard/princess, fbi agent/fbi agent, captain/first mate.......do i like workplace romance or something

favorite color: HMMMMM. i think i am very into green rn!!! of all shades

currently consuming: sesame shaqima. also contemplating the cold brewed lychee green tea in my fridge rn but i think i might need to give it another hour or so for more flavor

first ship: ichiruki from bleach........ichiruki bleach my loves....................they were the blueprint for me

relationship status: single. fighting for my life in the cesspool

last movie: suzume no tojimari

currently working on: writing wise? randomly, a very short yanxi palace yingluo & mingyu fix-it(kinda) fic. and by "working on" i mean i wrote the bulk of it last week while i was in a mood and now i have just a few sentences to wrap it up but i haven't felt like writing those few sentences so it's just waiting in my docs folder lol

other-things-wise, i'm making chicken soup today. da chinese herbal type. the bones have been boiling for a while and i'm gonna check on it in like 20 min and add the jujubes and stuff

tagging @tantai-jin @englishsub @dcyiyou @fruitdaze @microcomets and whoever else wants to participate :))))

[our-alterous-experience]

Alterous Air Time!

Alterous radio tuning in to give you Valerie by TV Girl!

I got into TV Girl a few years back and listened to their whole discography and this was one of the ones that drew me back some time later to add to a playlist of mine. And it really fits well! I give music the good old queer interpretations through specifically the alterous lens!

Valerie describes a 22 year old girl who struggles opening up to others and relating to relationships the general public shows her she “should” have.

And sick of people telling her to grow up

It just gets worse the more you wait

And you could easily find a date if you only wanted to

You're such a pretty girl

From your lavender hair down to your combat boots

She tried hard to get that feeling

That comes easy to you and I

I think additionally this song is really interesting as it would come from an allo’s perspective on an alterous person’s world? Which you can feel the amatonormativity she has faced through his (narrator’s) wordage. The expectations society and people close to you have on your life. And she tries to relate to what others are really saying but it isn’t “easy” to her.

Valerie

She doesn't know how to be like every other girl

She's alone in her little world

And you can't come in

This hints to larger aromantic/arospec or aplatonic/apl spec themes she seems to face.

And if you never knew nobody

Then how'd you ever know that you were lonely?

She'd known someone who had

And if that's the case then what's the point in knowing

These lyrics are weird but I think they paint this interesting picture on the plight here. This contemplation about loneliness and what people need. And the futile feeling of what the world tells her vs what she knows. The complex dynamic of “I don’t want to get close with someone like that” vs. the pull that says “but maybe I want Some kind of relationship…”

She stood there in the open for everyone to see

Too proud to ask for anybody's help

She had this revelation

The sheer amount of work that it would take to be like everybody else

But she didn't want them anyways

She's no damsel in distress, she just sipped her daiquiri

And wished she wasn't easily convinced

I like seeing this section in the kind of push and pull of the aro spectrum at times. In a very aroflux way. Being self confident while also feeling as though you’re missing something! And that resulting in confusion as she tries to figure out how she actually feels.

Alterous Air Time ||||||| Next

[theluckywizard]

HI LUCKY the ambient sounds/music you suggest while reading your fics is very cool, how do you decide which tracks to add? do you listen to them while writing and then just add them in? ✨

Ohhh thank you for the question, Rowan! STRAP IN I have been a movie score nerd since I was a teen (oboe-playing band geek to boot) and I used to pop in a few different soundtrack CDs into my old Macintosh Performa in the 90s and loop certain tracks that set a mood while I wrote fantasy nonsense. SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE.

I'm always scouting and scouring for new tracks. Anytime I hear something evocative, I throw it in my long fic playlist. When it's time to 'score my chapter' I will go through and pick songs from that list that fit. Oftentimes there's a scene where I don't have something that fits and then I will spend altogether too much time looking for the exact right thing (usually resulting in finding a bunch of great tracks). Here are some of my favorite tracks for favorite moments in my fic! Lorne Balfe - Meeting with the King - Churchill OST This is a theme I use frequently in my fic and there are a few variations in the soundtrack with slightly different moods like A Cottage by the Sea and Back to London. It's a great contemplative, angsty, low key song without distracting musical moments that will interrupt a reader's flow. I used this for instance when Cullen reveals to Rose that he'd quit Lyrium and then again when she returns from Crestwood hoping to rekindle things after they'd blown up so spectacularly.

Rachel Portman - Sewing and Archery - Emma OST Look sometimes you just need a mischief track! This one captures an edge of comedy and cheekiness that was perfect for the scene where Vivienne presumes to approach Rose about the matter of contraception not long after she's made Inquisitor. She gifts her a Theodosian nuvaring made of fade-touched nevarrite. Rose is mortified and fascinated all at once. Max Richter - The Wanderer - Ad Astra OST Another similarly angsty, contemplative theme but I find this one to be more hopeful in tone. Since I have two ships I tend to use this one more with Hawke and Rose. It's the track I use for the moment after the first time Rose sleeps with Hawke where she is kind of grappling with whether she should be involving herself with Hawke. Scott Buckley - Artemis (no soundtrack this guy just churns out one off tracks that SLAP) This is the perfect most ultimate track for closing the breach. It's tense and builds into this kind of awe-inspiring crescendo over the course of several minutes. I LOVE IT SO MUCH, especially for a scene where nobody knows if they're going to succeed in closing the Breach, least of all Rose who is being rapidly consumed by the spreading anchor. Tony Anderson - Arpege - Nuit SMUT TRACK SMUT TRACK. This is one I used for the first time Rose and Hawke hook up. It's got that sense of urgency, passion and 'this might be a bad idea but i'm doing it anyway' energy. It's a great track on its own, but I can't not think of that first time when I hear it LOL

Johann Johannsson - Hammers and Nails - Arrival Soundtrack ok one more because sometimes you need CREEPINESS. The eerie calm where something is wrong but you're not sure what yet. This is the track I used when Cullen and Rose realize there's an impending attack on Haven. Riders have rushed in from both outer check points to report into Cullen and they have to ring the alert bell. Ughh, this track is so good. Anyway, thank you for coming to my TED Talk about using music in fic. 😅

[timextoxhajima]

The Boyz as things and feelings (just cause)

this is a small thing @haechanhues​ needed help with so i decided to make it an actual post uwu [this is gonna be pretty long cause i might write little scenarios]

[THE BOYZ AS THINGS AND FEELINGS]

SANGYEON - MIRRORS AND PILLOWS

mirrors make a place look bigger than it really is - i feel like sangyeon has that ability to make you feel like you’re more important on your worst days

the things he’ll do just to make sure you’re alright, even when he knows you’re not

he also has the ability to reflect what you need: sad? he’ll come and hug you and let you cry or talk about your shitty day. happy? he’ll joke about the way you snort while laughing then he’d probably do something dumb to keep the energy up there

mirrors also feel very private and at-home, and that exactly how i feel he curates an environment

pillows are self-explanatory ig, smth to cry into, smth to fall asleep with while hugging, has the best homely scents ever, very comfortable

i imagine going home after a long day and finding your partner also tired, but he’s cooking or like in the couch watching tv and he just invites you into his arms uwu

“tell me about everything! whatever that makes you happy or sad and i’ll try my best to be who you need at that point of time!”

JACOB - FLOWERS AND MUSIC

ok like jacob with a guitar is just a stellar sight to behold, he looks like he was born to hold one, and his vocals are super underrated imo, most of tbz’s discography doesnt really suit his voice - i really wish he had a chance to have more lines in more ballads or maybe even a solo thing

he would drag you out to go on walks after he knows you’ve buried yourself in your work the whole day, and he’d be the kind to stop at a pretty flower and contemplate plucking it but he wouldn’t cause he’s a fairy and wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a pretty flower

would probably play a piece in the background while you’re stressed w work and hum a tune so the singing wouldn’t distract you

would stop when he notices you stopped working and your sad ass is probably crying lmao

he’s a very soft and gentle man imo

he’s the innocent daisy amidst other bright colored, flamboyant flowers but he still stands out

“i’ll grow you a rose bush in the yard so i don’t have to be sad about plucking flowers next time.”

YOUNGHOON - WINTER COATS AND COFFEE AND PASTRIES

he definitely radiates tsundere vibes on first sight, but when you get to know him, he’s obviously the opposite: a crybaby

but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t keep up his model-like appearances when he’s outside - in fact, he’d be the one to influence you into caring more about how you look (of course not materialistically, but more into actually caring about making yourself feel good with your fashion and appearance)

i chose winter coats as a symbol of coverage - he doesn’t show much of himself unless he’s close to you (like when you wear winter coats to keep warm, he’s a burrito because he doesn’t bother too much about sharing his feelings), but when he does, it feels like he has the ability to keep you warm and comfortable, even on the coldest days, even if his inner savage comes out

it’ll be like he scooped you into his coat and has you warm in one of this inner breast pockets

i see him as the kind to get regular coffee and like, a tart or something, at a cafe. it adds on to the warmth, when he remembers what you like. the details. maybe you like your coffee with cinnamon or less sugar or something, but then he tops it up with a muffin and he knows you like it heated up so he specifically asks for them to do so

ok but he’s defo the kind of guy that catches people’s attention at public spaces so every now and then when he’s laughing or smiling, some girl would gawk at him and he would be embarrassed about it, but lucky for you, you’re already wearing matching coats so they know the man’s taken uwu

“if only they knew how long it took to convince you to wear that coat.”

HYUNJAE - CONCERTS AND CONVENIENCE STORE DATES

classy but calm. dream-like but realistic. 

i say concerts as in the instrumental, ballad kinds. he loves it and he knows you probably need the sleep where you have that kind of background white noise/music that provides you the best quality of sleep there is. but when you’re not dosing off, he’s admiring how much time you’re willing to invest into being at something he loves

of course, in turn, he doesn’t complain much when you’re hungry and you meet him down the street at the nearest convenience store for some instant noodles and potato chips with a coke and he lets you ramble about your day 

he would probably buy you an ice cream just so you’d feel better, then regret it when you get a stomachache later cause it was like 2am in the morning

you probably have like 5 of his hoodies at home that you refuse to wash cause his scent is tainted all over it and the only time he gets to take them home is when he stays over or visits and he sneaks one into his bag when you’re in the kitchen making tea or a bowl of noodles

then you’ll get it back without even knowing it was gone

the kind that would probably surprise you after a day of work with a casual date idea to the movies, and i mean showing up at your place, impromptu, after he knows you’re home with two tickets 

“act like my girlfriend for once and go on a date with me, would you? your work isn’t going to be there with you when you die at 90.”

JUYEON - STARGAZING AND VR GAMES

as dumb and sometimes bimbotic as he seems he is, he’s gotten most of the visible constellations memorised and he would not hesitate from telling you all about his childhood with his family when they would travel and try to spot every single constellation they can remember

which brings me to the point where he remembers what you like, but... backhandedly. he doesn’t remember what you like but he remembers what you hate instead, so you don’t ever have to worry about getting that licorice flavoured jelly bean

he would offer a midnight walk to help you relieve your stress, cause he knows you just like seeing the nightsky amidst the peace and quiet while he rambles on for his own satisfaction. not everything has to be so emotionally attached and shared. you can share blissful moments without being the reason for each other’s and that’s totally fine.

juyeon is kind of a scaredy cat in the sense that he isn’t really into horror movies or games but he’s always had that dream to become a pilot and so for his birthday, you brought him to a vr game arcade where he played some plane simulator and ever since, you’ve been taking turns to surprise each other with a new vr arcade spot or adding on to the vr game console set you have at home

“maybe i should digitalise you so i can see you in the vr game”

KEVIN - KARAOKE SESSIONS AND NEON LIGHTS

the best-friend kind of partner you would come across once in a lifetime

a billion film shots of you after he drags you to the karaoke and he beats you at super intense songs like the bohemian rhapsody just cause he can hit those high notes and solely because he was screaming on the floor when he did it

almost left his film camera behind 

absolutely LOVES those walks along streets where there are a million neon lights

would come across that one sus neon light signs that indicate a sex toy store and he would give you that sly smile and probably joke for you to go in 

kevin has a moon neon light in his room and you have a star or something (whatever you want)

corrects your grammar and pronunciation, only for you two to bicker about it even more when you use google translation and there are different pronunciations depending on where/what accent you’re using

he really is your light in the dark, even if he’s known to be introverted. once he’s comfortable enough with you, he makes you feel like the most important person in the world

has one of those portable speaker microphones at home and he drones on and on and on with some billie eilish song until you hurl a pillow at him

“so you’re the tough girl, like it really rough girl, justcan’tgetenoughofkevingirl, chest always so puffed girl”

CHANHEE - DUETS AND STRAWBERRY PICKING

(i could not find a more candid, softer aesthetic pic for chanhee rip)

his entire wardrobe fits you - the only problem is that he’ll never let you wear it in fear that you’d stain or tear something

shared playlists because that’s how similar your taste in music is, and so sometimes when you have your earpiece in and you’re humming the melody of that song, chanhee picks it up immediately despite not hearing that song, and ends up harmonising with you

got kicked out of the library once or twice because it was exam period and the two of you won’t shut up

ironically doesn’t sing that much if you’re not around

chanhee is a true blue introvert - which is a miracle that you’ve managed to tear through that barrier of his and find out that he giggles at every stupid thing you do: he’s having a bad day? trip over the pavement. he’ll laugh. it works

dragging him out to go strawberry picking was so difficult - but of course chanhee isn’t safe from how beautiful and enticing the fresh fruits were.

didn’t touch anything strawberry flavoured OR any strawberries for the next month or so

his straightforwardness comes with the breakdown of his barrier - but that’s what brings you comfort. he will never lie, he will only be sarcastic and even then, you’d know it’s true

i used duets as a symbol of harmony and being in-sync, though never really exactly the same, and that’s how it is with chanhee. your thoughts are very similar even though he’s much more introverted than you, but that’s what binds you 

“i’m gonna tell the librarian i don’t know you if we get kicked out again.”

CHANGMIN - CITY TOURS AND MATCHING OUTFITS

city tours - the kind that you already know inside out and yet you STILL travel the area as if you were a tourist 

that’s exactly how it is with changmin: you know him inside out, after being friends for so long, but it never gets old

you’re used to him biting your hand out of nowhere and yet it startles you all the time. that stupid chucky doll in his living room? old, but it never fails to scare you

he doesn’t ever talk about it that much, but he loves it when you co-ordinate outfits

no, it doesn’t mean you wear couple tees, but it’s aesthetically pleasing to changmin that if he wears cool tones, you would too

he’d be reserved about his thoughts and feelings sometimes but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think or feel them

there’s a strange sense of familiarity with changmin, because you kind of know what to expect but then you’re never disappointed, you know?

“i got you this white pigeon cause it looks like the one i already got... you can give it back to me if you don’t like it though-” /he takes it before you can accept it/

HAKNYEON - STAND UP COMEDY SHOWS AND RUNNING ALONG THE BEACH

there’s something about ju that makes it very casual and easy-going

he hates horror genred themes so fuck that, he would queue online just for the latest ali wong comedy show, even if it’s an online show, and he would laugh until he cried

sometimes he’s a drama queen but that makes it alot easier for you to know what he’s thinking or feeling - it makes communication alot easier

that means a lack of arguments

he’s also very empathetic but straightforward, exactly like how comedy shows are - because they are relatable, they are funny because they bring out the irony and sarcasm and all the dumb things in life that people are sometimes afraid of talking about and hak just says whatever he wants to say, even if he knows it might be hurtful or upsetting

he prioritises truth and honesty over anything else

it makes you a better person, honestly

beach walks - very calming, very liberating. he lets you yell and scream and kick sand back into the water because you can, and he does it with you

tries to teach you how to skip rocks but you suck and you can’t so he just pulls you away from the pile of rocks you amassed

“flick your wrist like that, not like you’re meowing!”

SUNWOO - SOCCER FRIENDLIES AND STUDIO SESSIONS

he will NOT go easy on you in a friendly match: you might be one of the fastest players of the female team but he’s ruthless in his ball-stealing, so even if you were fast enough to keep the ball out of his reach, he’d still be able to snatch it right out between your feet

very, very competitive and does not like to lose

you would always play the ‘ladies first’ card but then he’d throw the ‘feminism’ card back at you 

sometimes you act more like siblings than anything else 

the only time when he isn’t fuming with competition is if you’re injured because he accidentally tackled you - he’ll gracefully give himself a yellow card before absolutely trashing you in the next match

has one foot into the production game recently - likes to play with the beat board and mixing tunes, and since you’ve had your hand in doing music remixes for a deejay job before, you’re there to identify which songs have the same bass line or beat counts for easier mixing

would make you a playlist of remixes but wouldn’t admit that he spent a whole day in the studio without you just so it would be a surprise

a soft boy stuck in the wraps of an egoistic man

“a day? please. i illegally downloaded half these remixes off the internet cause i’d think you’re too internet-dumb to find them.”

ERIC - BAKING AND SKATEBOARDING

full of impromptu, casual ideas to hang out 

baking is a fucking mess - why did he suggest it when he doesn’t even have the right ingredients?

wanted to replace eggs with water - like ok thats supposedly healthier, but why????????????

he likes cleaning so that was the only fucking bonus in baking - had to call his mom for help halfway through because the cookies looked more like goop than playdough

gave up in the end and he repaid his debt by helping clean your kitchen

tried to teach you how to skateboard, but he ended up falling off his own in the process and now he’s got a grazed knee 

the kind of person you’d have so much chaotic fun with, he’s that friend your mom told you to NOT hang out with that much if not you’d get run down by a car 

has the most fucking random pieces of clothing in his wardrobe, like where did he even get that pink coat from?

“no you have to do this and like lift up your leg and then kinda rest your weight on it before flicking your ankle and like- whOA- OH OW OHNO OHOHOH OW”

[sickleysweetbananabread]

Skin and bones

Chapter 1 (?)

You wake with a shout. You had promised yourself you weren't gonna go back there. *You lie to yourself. You cant go back there, it would ruin everything! *Nothing will change. You're stuck here forever. You have come to realise that these dreams are much better than being back there. You aren't back there anymore, now is different. *Don't let your efforts become a waste. You've changed. *You can't keep doing this, Y/N. You've grown. You're mature now.

*Sure you are.

The voice had croaked out from beside you, making you flinch. How long had they been there?! They nearly scared you half to death!

Their brown hair falls over their eyes. It does a good job of hiding the soft gaze they give you as you stretch and rub your eye crust away. You do end up catching them staring eventually though, to which they look away, whistling.

They sit up alongside you and you watch as they push themself up and out of your poorly made pillowfort, chortling to themselves as if theyve told the funniest joke known to man-kind.

"Oh har har," you groan, combing your hands through your h/c hair. You can see their eyes filled with amusement along the entrance of the blanket. Either your depressing attempt at sarcasm or your deadpan expression seems to make the ghost crack into a fit of maniacal cackles. They start to choke as you whine that it's only funny to them. In fact, it's so hilarious that you launch yourself further into your fort and promptly pretend to pout sullenly. So funny indeed. You make a grab at your phone a couple of times and finally manage to grab it. Your eyes water as you turn the device on. What the hell are they doing up at-

.

..

...

.....

"FOUR-THIRTY IN THE MORNING, ARE YOU SHITTING ME???"Cue the dramatic witch cackles.

Chara reaches back in the fort to take a cracker from the snack pile you both share and you swat at their hand. They take a hold of you and force you up and into the kitchen to make some food for yourself before you go out to work. They were always looking out for you. You hum, contemplating on what to make, muttering to yourself as you open spotify and choose a random song from your playlist. You stand there for a second, unsure of what to say, you were always awkward in the silence. Chara found it annoying at first but they managed to adapt for you, bringing up ideas such as headphones or movies before bed to keep you focused on that instead of silence.

*Need help with anything yet?

Red eyes peer at you from over the counter, they glaze at the sight of the chocolate brownie box you pull out and begin to read.

"Yeah, actually! Since today is a Thursday we are making some desserts to eat with our movie marathon later. Chara, could you be a doll and help me with grabbing the sugar and flour? I cant find my stool today," you sigh. Chara nods so fast that it becomes a blur of red and brown, which makes you laugh joyously. Grabbing a whisk, milk and a few more ingredients along the way. You add them bit by bit and you get Chara to help with the right measurements to make sure the brownies are perfect for both you and Charas standards. You start to think of the many recipes you could make when you get back home from work and you bring out a notebook and pen from a drawer and start writing.

*Dude, you're making me drool here. Can we please just make the brownies before i eat everything in this damn kitchen?! You have work today, don't you?

Speaking of work, you muse. You do happen to have work in a few hours. You work dayshift in a cafe a few blocks away. It was a place where you were at peace. Most days it was packed with many different types of people and the regulars. The noise was a little bit startling when you walk in at first, yes, but then you don't have to worry about overthinking what that old lady had said to you three weeks ago on the bus as you walked past her. You take the dessert out the oven.

Chara drools as they catch a glimpse of that oh-so-delicious masterpiece. They end up immediately cringing as you crack as many places in your body possible and sigh in relief. You laugh mischievously and they sprint into the livingroom and back into the fort.

"Im away to get dressed, knock if you need anything, god can't save you if i catch you anywhere near those brownies, Chara Dreemur,"

*God is dead, i killed him in his sleep.

*Jesus too.

A/N:

This is my first time ever trying to write a chaptered fanfic so lemme know what you think of it! I am sorry if i made any grammar errors as i am dyslexic lol. Which skeleton do you wanna meet first? 👀👀

[anotherplaceintheuniverse]

risotto (portwell first date fic)

As requested by anon, a look at Portwell’s first date

read on A03 here or below the cut

“Ash?” Gina knocked on Ashlyn’s door nervously. Ashlyn knew something was up. Not only did Gina never knock, she always felt more than comfortable telling her absolutely anything and everything.

“What’s up?” Ashlyn placed her guitar down at the foot of her bed. “Are you okay?”

“Um...EJ kind of asked me out-”

“Oh my god! That’s so exciting!” Ashlyn noticed Gina’s long face. “That is exciting, right?”

“Yeah,” Gina sighed. “I just...I’ve never been on a real date before and...I don’t know what you wear to this sort of thing.”

“Say no more,” Ashlyn placed her hands on Gina’s shoulders. “I know exactly who we need to call.”

Before Gina knew what was happening, Kourtney and Nini were running around Gina’s room assembling the perfect look. “Where is he taking you?” Nini smiled as she perfected Gina’s eyeliner.

“Um...we’re getting risotto actually.”

“Risotto?” Kourtney laughed.

“What is with you two and risotto?” Ashlyn giggled.

“It’s a funny story actually.” Gina smiled just thinking about the memory. “Remember when we took our little field trip to North High?”

“Who could forget?” Kourtney grumbled as she held up a shirt before deciding against it.

“Well, when I was standing watch, this guy came up to me and I guess I kind of froze. I didn’t know what to say but EJ swooped in and called me babe and asked if we were getting risotto.” Gina trailed off; the story suddenly felt embarrassing as she shared it aloud.

“What did the guy say?” Nini laughed.

“He just left but EJ and I figured if we were going on a date we could actually get risotto.”

“Okay this might be stupid but what even is risotto?” Ashlyn questioned from her spot on the bed.

“I don’t really know,” Gina whispered which caused all the girls to burst into a fit of laughter.

“You really like him, huh?” Nini smiled at Gina in the mirror.

“Yeah, I do.” Gina nodded slowly. “Is that okay? Like...will that make things weird with us?”

“Don’t worry,” Nini shook her head. “I haven’t thought about EJ in that way in a long time. I’m happy for you.”

“Alright. Enough yapping.” Kourtney held a hanger out to Gina. “This. This is what you should wear.”

“Thank you.” Gina smiled. “All of you. For everything. You guys are the best friends a girl could ask for.”

“Anything for you,” Nini wrapped her arms around Gina’s shoulders from behind.

“Get changed!” Ashlyn squealed. “EJ will be here soon!”

Gina rushed to the bathroom and started to change her clothes. “Guys?” the others heard her call.

“Oh god, what’s wrong?” Kourtney rushed to the door.

“What do you talk about on...you know...on a date?”

“What do you and EJ normally talk about?”

“Everything,” Gina sighed. “He’s just so easy to talk to.”

“Then tonight won’t be any different.”

EJ arrived at Ashlyn and Gina’s house about fifteen minutes later giving Kourtney and Nini just enough time to add finishing touches before being rushed out by Ashlyn. Gina paced around the room until they both heard a knock on the front door. “You got this!” Ashlyn gave her a thumbs up.

Gina slowly made her way to the front of the house fidgeting with her hands all the while. She opened the door and the second she saw EJ’s gentle smile, all her nerves melted away. “Hey,” he bit his lip. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” Gina smiled. “You clean up nicely.”

“Only the best for you, Porter,” EJ chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone though. Don’t want anything to damage my reputation.”

“Of course.”

“Ready to go?” EJ offered his arm. Gina easily linked her arm in his. It was like they were made to be there Gina thought.

“Ash, I’ll have her home by midnight!” EJ called.

“You better!”

Like a true gentleman, EJ opened the passenger door for Gina and made sure she was comfortable before slamming it shut and rushing to the driver’s side. “Music?” EJ smiled at her handing her his phone.

Gina skimmed through his Spotify playlists which were as she had expected: one for studying, one for working out, one for driving. The one that surprised her, however, was his musical theatre playlist. “I didn’t realize you were such a theatre nerd,” she giggled. 

“Yeah, well,” EJ chuckled.

“Is it weird that I want to listen to Beauty and the Beast? I kind of miss it.”

“Haven’t you heard it a thousand times at this point?”

“Yeah but I guess it’s more about the memories. Like the first time you and Big Red performed ‘Gaston’ in your full costumes. I’ll never forget everyone’s reaction to your eyebrows.”

“Hey! You said they weren’t that bad!”

“They weren’t!” She squealed. “You can make anything look good, Caswell.”

“Thanks, G,” he smiled at her. “You’re an amazing dancer, you know?”

“So you’ve said-”

“I mean it. You have this passion and the way you smile like it’s the best performance you’ll ever have but you just keep topping yourself.” He glanced over at her. “You’re just full of surprises, Porter.”

Gina smiled nervously finally settling on “Something There.” EJ laughed when he realized what song was playing. He reached his hand over the center console interlacing his fingers with hers. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as focused his eyes back on the road.

When they reached the restaurant, Gina was surprised by how fancy it was. She obviously knew what she wanted to order to eat but when the waiter came to ask what they wanted to drink, she had to think for a moment. “Would it be terrible of me to order punch?” She tried to stare at EJ seriously before breaking out in laughter.

“Only if you promise not to pour it all over me this time.”

“Oooh. I don’t know if I can do that. I might-”

“Your order?” The waiter was growing impatient which made Gina to want to laugh even more.

“Two fruit punches please,” EJ replied for the two of them. “Thanks.”

As the waiter walked away, Gina couldn’t hold back her giggles any longer causing her to snort. EJ cackled in response. The two knew that everyone was staring at them; this was no way to behave in an establishment like this. But Gina just couldn’t find it in her to care. Everything felt easy with EJ.

“If you two can’t pull yourselves together, we will have to ask you to leave,” the waiter snarled when he returned with their drinks.

“We’ll behave,” EJ nodded biting his lip to hold back his laughter.

When they finally calmed down, EJ shook his head. “You’re something else, Gina Porter.”

It was late when they finally stepped outside again. The restaurant had been packed and between all the talking and laughing, they were at the table for hours. Then, EJ had insisted they get the supreme brownie dessert which ended up being much larger than either had planned. EJ wrapped his arm around Gina’s shoulders as they made their way to his car. “This was fun,” Gina sighed when they finally got in the car. “You make everything fun.”

EJ smiled as he tried to find the perfect song to play. He laughed at himself as “Music in Me” from High School Musical 2 filled the speakers. “You were a good Troy, you know?” Gina said softly.

“Oh yeah for the five minutes I got to be him.”

“I’m serious,” Gina smacked his arm lightly. “You were so...vulnerable. It was kind of awesome.”

“Just wish the Wonderstudies got their show. The world deserved to see you as Gabriella.”

“I’m kind of happy with the way it all worked out as hectic as it was.”

“It wouldn’t be an East High production without a little chaos, right?”

“And it brought us here, didn’t it?”

They sat in a comfortable silence the rest of the way home. When they weren’t sneaking glances at each other, EJ was thinking about what Gina had said. Sure, High School Musical and Beauty and the Beast had their flaws but they were theirs. And no one could take those memories from them. 

When they finally got to the Caswell-Porter residence, EJ put the car in park and sat there for a moment. “I’m really glad you came back, G.”

“Me, too.” Gina went to open her door.

“Call me in the morning?” EJ asked grabbing her hand.

“Of course,” she nodded. “Thanks for tonight, Eej.”

EJ bit his lip contemplating whether or not it was appropriate for him to kiss her. Before he could think too hard though, Gina leaned over the center console and gave him a soft kiss.  “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Gina.”

Wanting to relish in the moment for as much as she could, Gina slowly exited the car and made her way inside the house. EJ made sure she was inside before he drove away. Ashlyn rushed to the living room the second she heard the front door open and close. “So? How was it?”

“It was...awesome,” Gina sighed.

“Yeah?” Ashlyn pulled Gina onto the couch. “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

[superluigi12]

One Piece Modern AU: Road Trip

since i just recently caught up with One Piece, I want to write some AUs about it, and honestly get back to being more frequent on here! So uh... here’s the Straw Hats on a road trip or something. Feel free to add your own!

Luffy

my god he won’t shut up

he’s either singing to himself, bugging someone else, or just screaming

CONSTANTLY asks “are we there yet”

Decided on the destination much to some of the others’ dismay (Usopp, Nami, Chopper)

gets food all over the car

no seatbelt can contain this creature

he eventually falls asleep and stays that way for a while

insists on driving (he cannot) 

usually can’t sit still or in the same spot for long

he sits everywhere, but if he has to stay in one spot, its usually the middle in between Usopp and Brook

always asks to stop and get nuggies

Zoro

practically sleeps the whole time

wakes up to drink more alcohol, stop for food, use bathroom, then instantly goes back to sleep

sits in the back

never drives because he would get lost

when he’s awake and sober he likes to insult Sanji

Nami

usually the driver, if not she’s always shotgun

takes no shit from anyone

stressed af bc she plans the entire trip, everyone else is loud, and driving is just stressful

hates stopping for gas bc it costs money

finds the best and strangest shortcuts, legal or not

loves to sing with whoever’s shotgun.

constantly lies out of getting tickets. Usopp is genuinely envious of her ability to lie about going 15 miles over the speed limit.

Usopp

before Brook joined, he was the main DJ

before Franky joined he made some adjustments to their first car. No one knows how it survived so long.

usually sits with Luffy in the middle

doesn’t volunteer to be shotgun or driver bc that requires responsibility

he can drive, however he prefers not to bc he’s Usopp

when he does drive, he is either screaming in fear or in rage

got a ticket bc he’s awful at lying

loves to come up with his trademark Usopp Stories to lighten up everyone in the car

always impressed by Franky’s work on the car and learns how to maintain it if he isn’t there

Sanji

he packed lunches for everyone.

When Nami drives, he insists on being Shotgun. he’s usually shotgun anyway bc he’s just so observant.

when he’s not shotgun, he sits in the middle.

sometimes he feeds whoever’s driving, Nami and Robin especially.

when Sanji drives EVERYTHING pisses him off.

he is either the calmest driver, or the angriest. there is no in-between.

complains about every car he sees under his breath, unless they’re a woman in which he swoons because he’s like that.

tells Luffy to shut like every 30 seconds.

Chopper

he legally cannot drive. he is baby.

always ends up asleep in Robin’s lap.

gets rolled around a lot (usually by Luffy.)

since he can easily move around, he sits with whoever he feels like. (usually Robin, Usopp, Franky and Luffy.)

sometimes used as a pillow. he’ll never admit it but he likes it.

Robin

very very quiet like she usually is.

reads despite all the noise.

she doesn’t like to drive, but she can.

if she drives, she’s very patient but she’s not afraid to throw shade, or slap bad drivers with her hana-hana power

sits in the back with Zoro, Franky and Brook

she loves using her hana-hana fruit to prank Usopp and Luffy when they’re being loud.

when she’s not reading, she’s drawing the scenery as they drive by

when Franky drives, she usually is shotgun.

Franky

loud and loves to point things out as they drive

he built the car himself and added all sorts of Franky gizmos

these include a smaller model of the car, a TV, a retractable pair of wings to go with the Coup de Burst he installed, and others.

whenever an emotional song comes on the radio, he cries

always makes sue to have spare drinks, be it in his body or in the mini fridge he installed in the car

he may not seem like a good driver, but he surprisingly is.

he did build the car after all, so he should at least know how to drive it

when Luffy asks “are we there yet” Franky responds with “don’t make me turn this car around!”

Brook

always has the best songs, or plays something himself

he always entrusts his playlist to who’s ever shotgun.

loves being around everyone even if they’re loud, because he just appreciates their company.

tells jokes frequently to lighten the mood. ranges from hilarious to Franky bonking him.

likes to sleep bc he’s old. he needs his sleep.

the driver frequently has to tell him to sink down a little so they can see

other people get very concerned when they see this literal skeleton in a car.

Jimbei

at first he felt a bit uncomfortable in tight spaces bc he’s a big boy, but Franky made sure to make adjustments to the car. he sits in the middle.

takes over driving when Nami isn’t up to it. He’s just as good as her.

He’s much calmer and wiser with the road.

pretty quiet and reserved, but likes talking with the others.

Concerned about everyone’s well being, especially because everyone’s so loud.

BONUS CHARACTERS

Vivi and Caroo

Vivi is so busy and stayed in her homeland, so she rarely gets to see the Straw Hats, but she loves being with them and fondly thinks about them.

usually Shotgun with Nami, if not she has fun with the others.

She hasn’t met Franky, Brook, or Jimbei yet, or any of the other guests (besides Ace) But she can’t wait!

loved talking about her homeland and how she couldn’t wait to go there with everyone.

Caroo loved being around everyone, but disliked being flown everywhere like Chopper.

Ace

Ace was with them once (excluding Robin, Franky, Brook, and Jimbei)

he didn’t stay long, but enough to get a feel for everyone.

Bonded with Sanji the most, and obviously Luffy. 

Law

*mentally thinks* “oh god what is wrong with these people”

sits in the back with Robin, Zoro, Brook and Franky. 

Luffy keeps trying to talk to him and just grab his attention.

This poor man can’t even nap without being woken up by the others.

contemplated using his op-op fruit to remove his ears.

he did enjoy how advanced the car was, and bonded with Franky about it.

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 12

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: Surprise, a new chapter already! This one and the Chapter 11 were actually supposed to be one single chapter but we decided to cut it due to my inability to keep things short length. Hence, the same title with an addition and the consecutive days - just so you don't wonder. Also, in case anyone was confused by the timeframe reading Chapter 11, this supposed to be a flashback to when the whole thing between them started - sorry for not making this clear in the first place 💛

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Langague, mention of alcohol and drug abuse, mention of NSFW content

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

It's just the way that you walk

It's just the way that you talk

Like it ain't no thing

And every single day is just a fling

Then the morning comes

~ Smash Mouth - Then The Morning Comes ~

Lizzie woke the next morning to a painful pounding inside her head and a mouth as dry as dust. It took her a few moments to find her bearings; the light of the morning sun didn’t fall onto her bed like it did now, and neither did her sheets smell like Orion’s aftershave.

With that thought the memories of last night hit her like a freight train. Covering her eyes with her hand, she let her head slump back onto the pillow, a breathy chuckle leaving her parched throat. She certainly hadn’t expected that to happen when she had agreed to go to her first poetry slam with Orion. Saying she regretted sleeping with him would have been a blatant lie, though; it had been far too good for that.

Sitting up slowly, Lizzie stretched her back, rolling her neck from side to side; her head hurt like hell but it wasn’t as bad as she had anticipated. Orion seemed to be up already, which didn’t surprise her; Lizzie knew he was an early riser from the many years they had spent touring together.

Her eyes fell onto the nightstand and the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. A full bottle of water and a blister pack of painkillers were waiting for her there. Not sure what she was more grateful for, the meds or the water, Lizzie took a large gulp out of the bottle first before washing down one of the pills with a second, smaller sip; her mouth was so dry, she wasn’t even sure any of the water was reaching her stomach at all.

She sat between the sheets for a little longer, her back leaned against the rough brick wall. Taking small sips out of her bottle every now and again she contemplated last night’s events.

In a thousand years she wouldn’t have anticipated ending up in bed with Orion when all they’d had planned had been a night out together. And it wasn’t like she could blame it all on getting drunk and high out of her mind either; Lizzie was honest enough with herself to admit she’d always found him more than a little attractive, but so far, it had stopped for her at that.

The dreamcatcher hanging from the window frame directly above the bed was painting intricate shadows on the sheets. Lost in her thoughts, Lizzie watched them, trying to discern if she felt any different after spending the night with one of her best friends.

If she was completely honest with herself, the answer was no. Neither she nor her feelings towards Orion seemed to have changed in any way.

She shrugged the thought off and swung her legs out of the bed, standing up slowly in case her circulation was still funky. She grabbed her shorts from the ground where she had unceremoniously tossed them last night. Exchanging the shirt Orion had given her with her own top, she pulled a new hair tie from her pocket and pulled her tangled hair out of her face.

With the warm shirt and her hair gone from her bare shoulders, Lizzie noticed how cool the morning air felt against her skin. She grabbed the black hoodie she had borrowed yesterday from another place on the floor and put it on again. Following the soft sound of Orion’s guitar that was drifting down from the rooftop terrace, she climbed up the steps and through the open skylight.

Orion was sitting on the deckchair with his acoustic guitar in his hands, playing a melody Lizzie didn’t recognise. One of his countless notebooks was lying in front of him and she could spot a pencil being stuck behind his ear. Lizzie waited until he stopped playing to write something down before she walked over to him.

He looked up from his notes as she sat down on the end of the deckchair. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Lizzie smiled. She tilted her head, trying to catch a glimpse of what Orion was composing. “What was that you were playing?”

“Something new,” he smirked. He closed the notebook and carefully put his guitar away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Lizzie chuckled, “No wonder though…” She indicated the water bottle she was still holding, “Thanks for that, I didn’t even realise how thirsty I was.”

“That’s what smoking does to you,” Orion shrugged. “I got us some fruit from the market down the road for breakfast, if you want some.”

Lizzie had already spotted the huge plate laden with an assortment of colourful fruit on the table behind him. It was only now that she realised just how hungry she was. “How do you know that’s what I like for breakfast?”

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “We’ve been touring together for five years now, remember?”

Lizzie felt her cheeks go red. “Obviously. I can’t think before coffee.”

“I made you some, but no idea if it’s good,” Orion shrugged. “You know I don’t drink coffee myself.”

Lizzie made her way over to the table and poured herself a cup. “Then why do you have coffee in the first place?”

“Merula likes some when she’s here.”

She took her first sip after adding sugar and milk but even then the bitter taste was so overwhelmingly strong that Lizzie couldn’t help but grimace.

Orion watched her with a sympathetic expression. “Too strong?”

“A little,” Lizzie croaked, trying to wash the taste away with another sip of water.

“Sorry, that’s how Merula likes it.”

“No wonder she never laughs if her days start like this,” Lizzie replied sardonically.

Orion had to chuckle at her words. “Our tastes can mirror our personalities, that’s true; I wouldn’t tell her that, though.”

He raised his own mug that had been resting on the floor beside him. “If you don’t like the coffee, I can only offer you tea, I’m afraid.”

Gingerly pushing her coffee cup as far away from her as possible, Lizzie nodded gratefully. “I’d be fine with that.”

Lizzie was surprised at how relaxed and comfortable the atmosphere between them was; it was like having breakfast with her best friend, just like it always had.

None of them spoke about what had happened last night, nor did they feel the need to. Now, in the light of a new day, the fact that they had slept with each other seemed almost surreal. Lizzie was relieved to see that, just like her, Orion didn’t seem to have any issues with it whatsoever.

She had just picked out another cherry from the fruit platter when her phone started ringing, the familiar picture of Skye flashing across the screen. She motioned for Orion to be silent before accepting the call.

“What’s up, Skye?” she greeted her breezily.

Skye didn’t seem to share her good mood, however. “Where the fuck are you?”

“What?”

“We were meant to go running today? I’ve been waiting for a solid twenty minutes now.”

Lizzie mouthed a silent curse; she had completely forgotten about that. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I slept in, it got a little later yesterday than I expected.” She tried not to grin as her eyes flicked over to Orion.

“Oh yeah, how was the slam?”

Lizzie almost choked on her tea as she tried not to snort with laughter. “You want to know how the slam was?” she repeated Skye’s words, watching Orion cover his mouth with his hand as he, too, was trying very hard not to laugh.

“It was very good, thank you for asking. I got some whole new perspectives out of it.”

“Maybe I should come next time.”

“Oh, believe me,” Lizzie grinned, “it wouldn’t have been your thing at all.”

“Hm, if you say so. How about Orion? Haven’t seen him quite so excited about something in a long time.”

“Well, I think he had quite a good night,” she smirked, throwing her cherry at Orion as he was shaking with silent laughter.

“Anyway,” Skye sighed through the speaker, “what’s the deal now? Could be at your place in ten minutes.”

Lizzie racked her brain, trying to come up with a suitable excuse. “Uhm no, I’m actually not home right now.” Her gaze fell onto her cup of green tea. “I ran straight out of coffee this morning and I’m on the hunt for some.”

Luckily, Skye seemed to buy it. “Fine, want to meet for lunch later?”

“Make it dinner and I’m in,” Lizzie answered, “Say hi to Erika for me,” she couldn’t help but add with a wicked grin.

She could practically see Skye blushing, even through her phone. “What makes you think I’m with -”

But Lizzie had already hung up on her.

The laughter was still dancing in Orion’s eyes when he shook his head. “You’re truly evil, do you know that?”

Lizzie chuckled. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“Fair enough,” Orion conceded. “But I’m curious, why did you lie to her?”

“First of all, I didn’t lie; I just didn’t tell her all the details. It’s none of her business anyway.” The smile vanished from her face and Lizzie averted her eyes. “And besides, I don’t want her to get into a conflict because she’s hiding something from her father.”

She took a deep breath, the mood suddenly not at all relaxed anymore. “And about that…”

But Orion had already guessed what she wanted to say. “You want to keep this a secret.” It wasn’t a question but an observation.

“If that’s cool with you.”

To her relief, Orion nodded. “It suits me well. I agree with you, it’s no one’s business but our own. And a secret shared between friends can only serve to deepen the friendship.”

Lizzie nodded in agreement, glad to see they were on the same page about this. She finished her tea, popped another cherry into her mouth and got up to leave.

“Is it okay if I borrow that for today?” she asked, motioning at the sweater she was still wearing. It wasn’t cold by any means, but the sweater was cosy and soft, just what she needed on a hungover day like this. It smelled like something resembling ginger, a scent she found very pleasant.

Orion followed her inside and showed her to the door. Just as she was about to leave, he caught her wrist and held her back.

“Any chance for another kiss?”

Lizzie hesitated, looking at him apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t usually do that.” Her lips twisted into a sly smile as she added, “And you got way more than a kiss anyway.”

She turned to go, but changed her mind on a whim; standing on her tiptoes, Lizzie pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek.

“Maybe next time.”

[andthatsonasahi]

Friends: Asahi x Barista!Reader

A/N: Hey guys this is the first fic that I’ve written that I’m actually uploading onto tumblr so like, pls comment and lemme know what yall think! <3

-

“Asahi we barely see you anymore!” complained Suga, as they walked towards the gym to practice.

“What do you mean?! I’m always here for practice!” he argued.

“Yes but we don’t see you before or after, where the hell have you been?” questioned Daichi suspiciously.

The trio had been best friends for years, and they’d spend a majority of their free time together. Lately however, the tall ace had been MIA, rushing out of every practice the second everyone finished cleaning up. They weren’t the only ones who noticed it either, the entire team had several conversations about his possible whereabouts, Tanaka even suggesting the possibility of a secret girlfriend, which everyone brushed off almost immediately as Asahi was far too shy. It even got to the point where Coach Ukai had noticed a change in his playing style, he was more focused and driven to succeed regardless of him having seemingly less practice, a fact that he was unsure whether to be glad or worried about.

“I’m okay! You guys are just being paranoid, please,” Asahi noted with a roll of his eyes, as he opened up the gym doors, earning a confused look from both boys.

“When did you start speaking like that?!” rushed out the gray-haired boy.

“This is what we mean! You’ve changed!” noted the captain.

“Is that such a bad thing? I’m happier! I’ve even learned how to word my emotions!” defended Asahi.

“No but we’re your best friends, Asahi, we just want to know what or who is making you so happy,” teased Suga, earning a blush from him almost immediately.

“It is a girl! I knew it! Tanaka was right!” yelled Daichi victoriously, as he fist bumped Suga.

“Or boy let’s not assume, Daichi!” added the setter.

“Shouldn’t you be yelling at us to do drills by now?!” exasperated Asahi as his face continued to redden, rushing away to get the equipment they needed, in disbelief at the fact that everyone was discussing his personal life.

“Should we-” began Daichi.

“For sure,” nodded Suga.

-

The boy sighed as he ran out of the gym, constantly checking the time on his phone. Practice had gone a bit late and he didn’t want the girl to think that he didn’t like spending time with her. He shook his head as he noted how his friends kept pestering him about her throughout the practice. He wished that he could gush about her with them but, what was there to tell? They were just friends anyway, she hadn’t shown any sign of reciprocating his growing feelings. Or was that just an excuse? Maybe he liked keeping her a secret, keeping their conversations about absolutely anything to himself. Factually, it wasn’t anything scandalous, it was just two friends keeping each other company at a coffee shop. Yet...it was special. The connection they had, to him anyway, was almost...cosmic. He was drawn to her in a way he couldn’t quite describe, not that he was any good with words anyway. A smile began to form on his face as he saw her through the glass windows of the shop, seeing her laugh with a customer as she handed the drink to them. He was only a door away from the girl he had missed throughout the day, and the idea of that, made his heart soar with joy.

“Welcome to Cioccolato Cafe- Oh ‘Sahi! Hi!” she beamed as she started making his standard order.

“Sorry I’m late,” he began, setting his gym bag beside him as he sat down on the usual table- his table as he liked to think of it as.

“Don’t worry about it! It’s been a busy day anyway, your timing is technically great since we’re about to close up,” she reassured, humming a song as she poured the milk into his cup.

“What are you singing?” he asked curiously, wanting to make a note of it to add to his playlist he made for her. 

“Oh it’s just ‘Loving is Easy’ by Rex Orange County; it’s been stuck in my head all day!” she expressed with a giggle, earning a blush from the boy as he contemplated asking her if there was a reason she was humming that song in particular, but before he could even muster the courage to ask, he was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell clinging.

“Welcome to Cioccolato Cafe! I’ll be with you in just a second!” she announced, finishing up the milk tea for Asahi and handing it over to him.

“Take your time,” replied the customer, earning a sharp head turn from Asahi.

“W- what are you guys doing here?!” exasperated Asahi as he facepalmed and began muttering under his breath.

“We just wanted to see where you’d keep going!” defended Suga as Daichi smirked at the boy’s flustered face.

“You don’t mind, do you?” asked Daichi in mock innocence.

“Of course not,” he shot back harshly, his tone being an obvious contradiction to the words themselves.

The setter and captain sat down with him, as they briefly looked over the menus on the table.

“Are you still going to deny that you’re whipped?” whispered Daichi, earning a loud laugh from his partner in crime.

“Sorry to interrupt but I wanted to know what you two wanted to order?” asked Y/N sweetly as she walked over to the table.

“Y- you’re not interrupting anything!” rushed out Asahi, facepalming yet again as he internally screamed at the sheer awkwardness of the entire situation, earning a soft laugh from the girl herself.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate please!” asked Suga politely.

“And I’ll have a piece of coffee cake,” added Daichi.

“Alright sounds good! I’ll be here with your stuff in just a few minutes, but before I do, would you like to pay now or after you’re done?” she questioned.

“We’ll pay after,” responded Daichi, earning a nod from the barista as she walked over behind the counter to plug in the order.

“She’s cute, I get why you’re here all the time Azu,” teased Suga.

“I hate it here,” muttered Asahi under his breath, as he wondered how he was going to survive this for the rest of the night.

-

“Wait he really did that?!” giggled Y/N, as she sat next to Asahi sipping her white chocolate mocha.

“Mhm! His face when we found out was priceless!” chuckled Daichi.

“Okay but that’s so cute! Using your height for good!” teased Y/N as she leaned into the ace with a giggle.

“Such a cliche though,” joked Suga.

“Listen, he saved a KITTEN! I don’t care how much of a cliche that is, please!” commented Y/N as she gazed at Asahi, earning laughter from the pair as they realized where his new vocabulary was coming from and a light blush from the ace.

“Honestly, this boy is a saviour on all accounts! Graveyard shifts were usually hella boring until ‘Sahi started coming around at night too,” reminisced Y/N as memories of them began playing in her head.

“We knew he was disappearing for a reason when he stopped staying late at the gym to practice,” noted Daichi.

“Oh God I’m sorry! Don’t cut practice time for me! I’ll feel too bad honestly!” rushed out Y/N with a furrow of her eyebrows.

“No no please don’t! I come here for a reason,” piped up Asahi, as he turned to the girl to ensure that she knew that he meant the words he was saying.

“Okay but still! I know how much you love volleyball!” she whined.

“If it makes you feel better, his playing has actually been getting better,” reassured Daichi.

“Yeah, he barely misses his serves anymore!” added Suga with a smile.

“Damn, guess it’s my influence!” joked Y/N as she giggled, earning a laugh from everyone, but for a different reason.

In a way Y/N was right, the only new factor that entered his life was her, and the pair were certain that if they had asked when the two lovebirds had met that the dates would match up. Even just talking to her for one night, the boys understood what their friend saw in her. She shined with positivity and joy; her genuinity and kindness were refreshing. 

“It’s getting a bit late now, shouldn’t you be sleeping soon?” asked Daichi.

“Technically yes, but I still have homework to do anyway,” responded Y/N with a shrug of her shoulders.

“What are we still doing here, then? Let’s pay so you can go home, the sooner the better!” declared Suga, already getting up and pushing back his chair.

“Guys it’s honestly fine, I’ve stayed up far later!” she reassured, getting up herself and walking towards the cash register.

“Still, we wouldn’t want to keep you up,” commented Asahi meaningfully, as he gathered his things and hers.

“You guys are the sweetest, ugh! I lowkey don’t want to even let you pa-” she noted, interrupted by the money already placed on the counter before she could finish her sentence, leading her to add a “I hate yall” jokingly.

-

“You didn’t have to walk me home again, ‘Sahi,” sighed Y/N as she ignored the butterflies in her stomach.

“It’s unsafe for you to walk alone, I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” he replied honestly.

“I would’ve taken the bus though!” she shot back with a laugh.

“And? Like that’s any less safe? The possibilities are endless!” he expressed, then whispered, “Besides I- uh- like walking with you.”

“Even if you have to slow yourself down so I can keep up? Don’t think I haven’t noticed that by the way!” she teased, earning a soft chuckle from the ace himself.

He didn’t know how to respond, how could he? His mind was racing as his heart rushed to match the rhythm, both almost in a race, competing to see who could say the sentence that least gave away his true feelings. None of which ended up winning, as they had both seemingly come to a compromise that anything would be too risky.

“Y’know...I’ve never really felt as safe with you as I do with anyone else,” she expressed quietly.

“Because I’m tall and look scary?” he questioned, already preparing himself to hear yet another joke about how his physique didn’t match his personality.

“No, though that does help!” she replied with a giggle, then cleared her throat as she played with her hair, a nervous habit that Asahi had picked up on.

“It’s because you make me feel comfortable, like, I don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or annoying you or anything. With you I can just- be me I guess,” she admitted, before adding, “That’s such a cliche thing to say please! Tell Suga and Daichi that you have some competition for being the most cliche!” she joked as she shook her head.

“In your words, ‘I don’t care how much of a cliche that is’, that’s the sweetest thing that’s ever been said to me and I’m beyond happy that I make you feel like that,” he replied joyfully, chuckling softly.

Her heart began beating faster as she smiled brightly at his words. She had acknowledged a while back that she had a crush on him but she didn’t realize how easily the boy could make her melt. There was something about his honesty that she admired greatly; she had been surrounded and used by people, both platonically and romantically, who had never reciprocated her compliments, so to hear something back was wonderful. Was it the bare minimum according to others? Of course. Doesn't make her feel any less elated, though.

“Well looks like that’s my stop,” she finally let out, as they approached her house.

“Y/N I-” he began.

He couldn’t take it anymore, she had to know how he felt about her. His hands began to shake as he looked around nervously. What if she didn’t like him back? What if she ran away from him? Was he willing to ruin their friendship over his selfish feelings? His eyes fell upon her as he noted how cold and exhausted the girl looked, failing to see the hope that shone behind her eyes, as she prayed that the words she craved to hear would slip out.

“Nevermind, have a goodnight and please don’t stay up too late,” he said simply with a sad smile, beginning to turn around and walk away.

“Wait!” yelled Y/N suddenly, forcing him to come to a sharp halt.

Was he...going to say what she thought he was going to say? Surely not right? Yet she recognised that look, that was the very same look she gave in the mirror when she would practice telling her crushes how she felt. Did he like her? No no that would be ridiculous, she was...well, her and he was him. They were on two opposite ends of the spectrum, there’s no way in hell he’d reciprocate her feelings.

“...You too, ‘Sahi, I’ll text you before I sleep so you can not so subtly hint at me sleeping earlier tomorrow,” she teased with a chuckle.

“I’d love nothing more,” he expressed with a louder laugh, walking away as he placed his hands in his pockets and sighed.

He really thought for a second there that she was going to tell him she liked him. How could he be so naive? Of course she didn’t, after all, they were just friends.

-

[rainydawgradioblog]

HyperSpecific Playlist - “Thinking of Throwing Myself in Drumheller Fountain”

It’s that time of the year where the sun sets too early and finals are rapidly approaching. Seasonal depression is creeping in and it is getting harder to fight it off in this sprint towards winter break. Here are some songs to add to your playlist that will make you wonder if you should actually study or if you should just go for a little midnight “dip” in the dirty ass fountain. What do you have to lose? 

Fade - Egyptian

No one wants to be forgettable and no one wants to forget the best memories they have, but sometimes they just slip away and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Age of Consent - New Order

Most of us are of (or older than) the age of consent, but you don’t want to think about what you’re gonna do with your life once you graduate. Here’s a song for those who wish they could go back in time to relive their childhood innocence and bliss.

All We Ever Knew - The Head and the Heart

There’s so much out there in the world that you haven’t experienced and so much you are capable of. The burden of trying to experience it all is overwhelming, especially when you are stuck getting through school, which, especially now, just feels draining.

Something Great - One Direction

This one is for my basic white girls, because we can be sad while still listening to our mainstream stuff. It hurts to think that there’s a version of yourself out there in some other alternate universe living your best life, but that version isn’t you right now. Is it really too much to ask for something great?

Fear - Current Joys

Although simple, this song still hits hard. There’s not much I can say except, this song will bring up more nostalgic feelings and suddenly the fountain seems enticing. 

Apocalypse - Cigarettes after Sex

Do I even need to explain this song? If you can listen to this song without feeling like there is a deep hole in your heart, then I applaud you. I, however, cannot and this song makes me contemplate all that is missing in my life.

Mind Over Matter - Young the Giant

Something about this song doesn’t just pull on my heartstrings, it plays tug-of-war with them. The world is big and thinking too much about how small you are is a dangerous game. Play that game. Listen to this song.

Fine Line - Harry Styles

THROW ME INTO THE FOUNTAIN. This is the song that just breaks me. PLEASE, if you have not listened to this, GO DO IT. And when you get chills and feel like crying, think about all your life choices, the meaning of your life (or the lack of meaning), and then remember that “we’ll be alright”. 

- Gianna Dal Porto

[lauwrite1225]

Somebody to die for.

Finan x OC; The Old Guard inspired Alternative Universe

Summary : Victoria’s life is rather simple until she has a car accident from which she ends up miraculously unscathed. A series of weird events animates her daily life, everything seemingly bringing her to a strange man. Until this very man knocks at her door.

Spotify Playlist • Masterlist

A/N : Happy Finan Friday dear readers!! So this chapter we have more of Finan and Vicky getting to know each, and god I love them. Anyway! I'm having fun finding song lyrics for my chapters titles, it makes them look ✨cool✨

Warnings : blood and death (again lol)

Chapter 3 : We've opened the door, now it's all coming through

Victoria couldn't help but develop a real fascination for the way she's now so easily healing. Most of the time it's only accidental, she drops a glass and cuts herself when she throws the debris or cooks and burns herself. Each time, any wound has disappeared in a matter of minutes. She's still not used to it, but she realizes it doesn't affect her everyday life at all, in fact, she's even starting to like it and finding it pretty useful. She even contemplates talking about it with Rebecca, there’s no secret between them, and this is definitely a big secret. 

And in matters of secrets, Rebecca doesn’t forget that Victoria didn’t talk about the person who was in her apartment a few days ago. “Are you going to tell me about him?” She asks before bringing her frapuccino to her lips while they are sitting at a Starbucks table. 

“About whom?” Vicky raises an eyebrow, feigning misunderstanding.

Becca rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “The boy that was at your flat.”

“There was no boy.”

“A girl maybe.”

“Neither.” Rebecca narrows her eyes, she’s always been hard to convince. And in all honesty, it will be very hard to convince her that there was no one, because when it comes to Vicky’s love life, she’s tough. “I just have plumbing problems.” She lies, looking down to her own coffee.

“Oh, of course, my bad.”

Her friend doesn’t search further, but Vicky is pretty sure she won’t give up and will ask again and again. When she goes back to her place, she doesn’t expect to find Finan sitting on her staircase. She stops a few stairs below, staring at him with wide surprised eyes, waiting for him to raise his nose from the book he is reading.

“The hell are you doing here?” She finally asks, upset by his lack of reaction.

He looks up to her and smiles, pointing at a small plastic bag next to him. “I came to return ya the sweater.”

Vicky frowns, climbing the last stairs to unlock her door while he is closing his book and standing up. “You know, it was my ex’s, I didn’t particularly want to see it back.”

She can feel Finan behind her, looking down to her. “Ya got a point.” 

She watches him for a brief moment above her shoulder. This time his beard is shorter, which undeniably suits him in her opinion, even if she never had a particular thing for bearded men before. Her ex couldn’t grow a single hair on his chin. “Have you been waiting here for long?”

“Two hours.”

“Creepy.” She replies, opening the door. “Do you want something to drink?” 

“If ya’re proposing.” He shrugs. 

Once again, they were both standing in her flat, though this time she hopes Finan wouldn’t end up dead on her parquet. She comes back from the kitchen with two glasses of water, handing one to Finan before leaning against the table. 

“So…” She begins, determined to know more about the strangest man she has ever met in her life. “I guess you're not living in London, right?” 

He takes a long sip of water before shaking his head. “No, in a small house lost in Ireland.” 

“Alone?” She asks curiously.

“Yes.” He answers after a pause. “Believe it or not, but I try to not make myself too known.” He says slowly, agitating the water in his glass by moving his hand in small circles, his gaze fixed on it.

Vicky tilts her head. “Because of the theorists?”

“In part.” He looks up to her for a brief instant, his deep brown eyes meeting hers. “Before the Second World War, I could live in some place for ten or fifteen years then just move away.” Then he sighs, almost nostalgically. “Now, it’s more complicated, with all the technology.” He meets her gaze again, but this time it’s more intense and severe, making her feel nervous. “No one must know about it.” 

“It’s hardly something I can hide.” Vicky replies, trying to keep the atmosphere light, but she can already feel the unpleasant outcome of this conversation. 

Finan is silent for a long moment, walking to the table to rest his empty glass on it. He’s now close enough for her to have to raise her chin to stare at him, but he avoids her eyes. “That’s why ya’ll have to leave too.”

“What?!” She gasps. “No! I have my family, my friends…”

“Ya don’t understand.” He cuts her off and meets her eyes. “Your family, your friends, everyone is goin’ to grow old and suffer and ya…” He pauses to take a deep breath. “Ya’ll still be yourself and won’t be able to do anythin’ for them.”

Victoria is breathless, both because of what he has just told her and because of how she can read in his eyes that he knows what he is talking about. Though, letting everything behind, all her life, doesn’t sound like an option to her. She straightens, as if she could tower him, but she’s still a head smaller. 

“And where would you want me to go? I’ve not been living on my own for a century, if I disappear, it won’t go unnoticed.” She replies, her arms tightly crossed over her chest.

Finan sighs. “Listen Victoria, maybe ya're family is wonderful and will accept it. But nowadays, one person knowin', and it's potentially the whole word who would know.”

Victoria frowns, understanding the warning behind. “Do you think people could want us bad if they knew?” 

“It wouldn't be the first time.”

She bites her lips, her teeth sinking into the tender flesh as she looks down to her glass. She has to admit it, if the knowledge of their existence ever fell into the wrong hands she doubts scientists, politicians or whoever could find interest in their abilities would let them live freely. It feels so surreal, she’s always lived a rather simple life, not that she’s ever complained about it, but since she let Finan step into her apartment a week ago everything has been shaken out. 

“Ya still have time.” He adds, his hand resting on her shoulder in a gentle way.

Victoria nods. “Are you going to stay around? Or go back to Ireland?”

Finan hesitates, his palm leaving her shoulder to rub his face. “I don’t know yet.”

“Well…” She says and he stops scratching his beard. “I still have a lot of questions. So if you could stay around for a short while.”

Vicky is surprised by how endearing she finds the smile that grows on Finan’s face, small wrinkles appearing in the corner of his eyes. “If ya want me too.”

And so, Finan remains in London, spending his time in the mediocre hotel, of what Vicky has seen on TripAdvisor, that he is renting. The rest of the time he is with her in her apartment, answering every of her questions. She enjoys learning about his life, usually over a beer, and it seems Finan does as well. In the course of a few days she learns that he was born in Ireland sometime during the ninth century and that he left for England where he fought for a saxon lord, during Alfred the Great's time. He’s easily the most interesting man she’s ever met. But he also has the talent to make every story more interesting than any of her history teachers ever succeeded. He describes each battle he took part of with so many details Vicky wonders how he can remember everything. 

“Fightin’ was the only thin’ I was good at, so I kept doin’ that.” He says after she has asked why he devoted his life to fighting.

Vicky uncaps a new bottle of beer and sits next to him on her sofa. “But you don’t fight anymore.”

“Nah…” His eyes darken in the same way as when he remembers a sadder part of his life, which Victoria is getting used to having only brief explanations of. “After the Second World War, I felt like I needed some peace.”

“I can understand.” When she was small, she remembers her grandmother talking of how the war changed her father from a lively and smiling man to a silent and constantly gloomy one. Finan had fought in more wars than she can count and to know that this one has signed the end of his warriors life reminds her of how it was a war like no other.

But her time with Finan isn’t only about morbid battles, the warrior had his share of travels. When he’s talking of them, it doesn’t sound like the world she knows. He describes places still untouched by the desire of humanity to build its own tower of Babel.

“Have you been to America? After Christopher Colombus discovered it.” She asks curiously another day.

Finan chuckles. “Nah, I’ve never liked the sea. So crossin’ a whole ocean for some lands...” 

“Some lands? It’s like one of the greatests discoveries in history!” She answers feigning offense, her hand pressed to her chest. “You’ve never been curious about all the gold you could have found there?” She leans back on the couch, bringing her bottle to her mouth. “Maybe you’d have been rich.”

“Pity.” He smirks, being rich clearly being the least of his ambitions. 

Besides their discussions about Finan’s life they also have normal conversation. She lends him books from the shop, crossing her fingers that no one would notice some of the books are disappearing for a few days. The second time she does that, she adds a phone to the small pile of books she hands him. Finan frowns at it and then at her. He slides the books in his bag before studying the cell phone. It’s the simplest and cheapest she has found, just a screen and a keyboard, it only cost her 10£.

“Why are ya givin’ me that?” He mutters, doubtful. Vicky finds it amusing, despite having lived through all the evolution of modern technologies, Finan seems to be as comfortable with it as her with administrative paperwork.

“Well...” She starts, putting the groceries she just bought in her refrigerator. “I just thought it would be easier for me to send you a text when I’ve finished work. Not that it bothers me that you wait for me in the staircase, but I doubt it is comfortable.”

“I was getting used to it. I haven’t bein’ waitin’ in front of a Lady’s door for ages.”

Vicky looks at him from above her shoulder and can’t help the redness rising in her cheeks when he grins amusingly. She immediately looks in front of her again when his gaze travels from the phone to her. “I doubt I correspond to your definition of a Lady.” 

“I’ve got a very broad definition.” She could hear his smirk as he speaks, the one that she has started to notice being so characteristic for him and all she can do is to answer with an awkward giggle.

When she’s done, she turns around and crosses her arms against the counter, Finan standing at the other side. “Have you… Have you had many relationships since you first died? I mean, serious ones.” She’s almost certain he won’t answer this question, but living eternally without anyone to love has been scaring her for a few days.

“One.” He answers surprisingly fast. “It didn’t end well.”

Victoria nods slowly, his answer being enough and understanding it isn’t a subject he wants to dwell on. Apart from the arrival of Finan, her life doesn’t change at all. She keeps working at the bookshop, drawing in her sketchbook when there are no customers. Vicky has always loved to draw, a passion she has inherited from her mother. Sometimes, she wishes she had the guts to apply to art school after high school instead of getting herself into business studies that she grew to dislike. When Finan asks her why she didn’t follow her dream, she answers that did it to stay with Rebecca. Her best friend has always been better than her when it came to school, and her parents always felt the need to compare them. Doing the same studies as her was more to prove to her parents she could do it too. At the end it has been an absolute failure, Vicky giving up her studies and finding a job in the bookshop.

One day, she has a call from her mother while she walks back to her flat. 

“Do you think Rebecca would still like to join us for dinner one night?” Vicky’s mother asks through the phone. 

“Sure, especially if you make her lasagna.” She smiles.

Her mother laughs. “Rebecca loves beef stew.”

“True, but I crave for lasagna.” Vicky justifies herself, the simple idea of her favorite food creating a hole in her stomach.

“Alright sweetheart. This weekend then?”

“Great! I’ll tell her.”

When she hangs up, her attention on her phone, she doesn’t realise she’s walking into someone until two strong hands grip her shoulders to stop her. She jumps and looks up in surprise, about to step back until she recognizes the man with sunglasses and a hoodie as Finan, whom she texted earlier when she walked out of the bookshop.

“Watch out, lass.” He warns, smiling anyway.

“Sorry, I was texting Rebecca.” She explains, easing under his grip. He removes his hands, his fingers lightly grazing her arms. They walk together to her flat together, Finan silently following her while she finishes her text. When they reach the building and climb up the stairs she finally starts to talk to him. “I won’t be here on Saturday.”

“Oh?”

“Family dinner.” She unlocks the door and Finan answers with a low hum. 

Their evening goes as usual except that this time, Victoria proposes to him to stay for the night. 

“I mean it’s late, and it’s raining. I would be a really bad friend if I kicked you out.” She says, waving her hands while he stares at her with a raised eyebrow.

“So we’re friends now?” He grins, leaning over the table. 

Victoria looks away. “I still consider you the creepiest man I’ve ever met. But if you’re the only person I’ll have to support for eternity, I guess I’d better consider you as a friend.”

When she finally dares to look at him, he has the broadest smirk pulling at his lips and she has to admit it, he really is handsome, with his dark, however sparking, eyes. “Friends we’re, then.”

After she has prepared the couch for Finan to sleep, she joins her bed. As usual, since she had her accident, Victoria struggles to find sleep, and knowing that Finan is sleeping in her living room isn’t helping. Not that she fears him, but she can’t help but overthink about her reaction around him. It’s been a while since she’s found a man truly attractive, not only physically, but his whole being. And in all honesty, with how awkward their meeting has been, it definitely is not a feeling she expected.

She finally falls asleep listening to a Florence + the machines playlist. But much to her dismay, her sleep isn’t peaceful. Since she has met Finan, the dreams have seemed to disappear, but tonight is different. Victoria is back in the forest where the Irishman died, she can even see him from the corner of her eyes, but her attention is mostly focused on the young blond man she has drawn. He is fighting as well, until he is hit by a shield. He stumbles, falling on the floor and catching his breath after the rough impact. And Vicky can feel his fear when a Dane, of what Finan told her of this night, slices his throat in a sharp blow. The young man chokes in his own blood and she shakes in horror as she can feel the life leaving his body as she did with Finan. 

A/N: Ehehe So what do ya'll thing this dream means 👀 ?

Also, for the great fans of TOG that would read that, I am taking liberties regarding how dreams works during all this fic, I haven't read the comics, only seen the movie and to transcribe such thing is kinda hard. I hope yall won't mind and appreciate how work with them 🤷

Tag :​ @for-bebbanburg ​ @naps4bats ​ @osferth ​ @maggiescarborough ​ @finansarms ​ @dumbledoreisnotmyhubby

[snowdice]

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 15]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 3-7 and what I have of Chapter 8 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

This thing is going to be 1K words with the semester I’m having. :P The plan is to do a lot of work today. I even have my dinner in a crock-pot. I’m giving a presentation on October 13th and want to basically knock out the prep today so I don’t have to have it hanging over my head. Not sure if I will achieve that, but that’s the plan! I have big goals! Wish me luck! :D

Chapter 3

Janus and Remus both appeared at the same moment a couple of feet apart in what looked like the inside of a garden shed. There was already a man waiting for them a few feet away. “Sup babes,” Remy said, just like he always did. The T-Agent looked their costumes up and down and whistled. “Now that,” he said, “almost makes me want to be one of you time jockeys.”

“They wouldn’t let me have a gun or a canister of moonshine,” Remus pouted.

Remy snorted. “Sorry, babes, but that makes my job a lot easier. If I’ve gotta fish you outta the 1920s criminal justice system, I’d rather it not be because you shot someone on accident ‘cause you don’t know how to use the safety.”

 Remus groaned dramatically. “Everyone is lame.”

Remy just shook his head. “Meet back here when you’ve got the necklace,” he said. “Don’t make a move until after 11:05pm and before 11:17. That’s your window.”

“We know,” Janus said. “See you then.”

“Have fun at the party boys,” Remy said and then lowered his shades to look at Remus, “but not too much fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Remus, already towing Janus out of the garden shed. The way had been specifically cleared for them, so they met no other people before they’d rounded the house the party was taking place and had gotten onto the driveway in front of the house.

 Without missing a beat, they strolled up to the front of the house, just as a car pulled into the end of the driveway. Janus rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, a man who was clearly the butler answered the door. They handed over their invitation, and the man immediately let them in.

The party had already started when they slipped into the medium sized ballroom that had been decked out in streamers and other decorations. Janus’s nose immediately wanted to scrunch as the smell of sweat from all the dancing already going on as well as the too strong perfume meant to cover that stench wafted over him. It was by far not the worst smelling time period, but he was pretty sure some people still weren’t aware deodorant had been recently invented.

 He checked his time piece which had been disguised as a fancy wristwatch for this trip. “Okay,” he said. “We have about two hours before we need to make our move. We should…”

Remus’s attention was already being dragged away by a young man who seemed to be providing guests with food. “I’m going to go ‘mingle’,” he said, winking.

“No!” Janus hissed. “Re- Richard! No!”

Yet, he was already disappearing into the horde of stinky bodies, likely to go scandalize a bunch of rich folks, and leaving Janus alone. Janus mumbled a curse under his breath that he was sure no one around him would understand even if they could make it out.

 Unsure what to do with himself, he wandered over towards where the live musicians were playing jazz music, being sure to keep out of the way of the dancers. He was edging around the makeshift dancefloor, when one of said dancers must have misstepped and knocked into another one. The second man stumbled right towards Janus, arms pinwheeling. Janus reached out on instinct to catch the man as he fell.

There was a moment where the two of them just stared at each other, surprise evident on the other man’s face. He was wearing a mask that just covered the area around his eyes and the top of his nose, revealing a smattering of freckles across his cheeks that Janus imagined extended to his nose.

 The mask was a light blue velvet with a flower stuck on the side near his right ear, and a trail of curled golden ribbon bobbed down around his chin. The party continued on around them, a blur of movement and sound.

“Are you alright?” Janus asked.

The man blinked up at him and then tilted his head slightly to the side as though confused, before a smile slowly grew on his face. “Oh, I’m fine Dove.”

“Dove?” Janus asked.

He giggled. “You have dove feathers on your mask,” he explained, reaching up a hand to touch one. His finger brushed the tip of Janus’s ear, “and I don’t know what else I am supposed to call you.”

 “My name is Lee,” he automatically lied.

“Is it?” he asked, sounding amused. “Doesn’t seem to fit you well. I like Dove better.”

“Oh?” asked Janus. “And what’s your name so I can not call you that?”

The man chuckled. “Call me Pat.”

“Hello Pat,” Janus said.

“I thought you didn’t want to call me by my name.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Hmmm,” Pat said, finger tracing idly across Janus’s forearm which was when Janus realized with a start that he was still holding the man in his arms. He quickly went to release him, which Pat allowed with clear amusement.

 Yet, instead of completely stepping away, Pat grabbed Janus’s arm. “What are you doing all the way over here by the way?” he asked. “Don’t you want to dance.”

“Oh,” Janus hesitated. “I don’t really dance.” Or at least not in the way the people around him were. He’d had basic training for this style, but it had been a while and he was a bit rusty.

“Everyone dances Dove,” Pat claimed. “At least if they know the steps and have the right partner.”

“But I don’t know the steps,” Janus said with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed. “Well, I know the dance pretty well by this point,” Pat said. “Why don’t I teach you how it goes.”

 He was agreeing with the soft beseeching tone before he even realized it. Pat pulled him into the middle of the throng of people. He seemed to think, bopping his head to the music playing for a moment, before looking back at Janus. “Heard of James Johnson?”

Janus inclined his head.

“Well, have you heard his new song? Because there’s a dance that goes with it.”

He took a few steps away from Janus and started to dance. Despite his claim to know the steps, he wasn’t particularly good, but he made up for any loss of rhythm with pure enthusiasm.

 Janus found himself smiling at the man, and after a few moments, joined in with the dance. Despite his lack of practice, he ended up having a better natural rhythm than Pat. Pat didn’t seem to mind that he was being outperformed, however. On the contrary, he giggled at himself the couple of times he stumbled.

When he fell into Janus’s arms for the second time that night, Janus decided he’d probably had enough dancing for the moment and pulled him off to the side to get something to drink and cool down a bit.

He watched the man take a snack and some punch from one of servers and thank him happily before turning back to Janus. Pat was easily able to keep Janus’s attention as they chatted. He was bubbly and soft, and Janus found himself enchanted as they talked.

 He was explaining the steps of a different dance, a couples one. “Knowing how to perform the tango will entrance any girl you want,” Pat said, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. “Assuming you’re that type of fella.”

“As opposed to what?” Janus asked.

Pat leaned in a bit closer. Not too much, but enough that he was definitely in Janus’s space. “A different type of fella,” he said simply, before smiling and leaning back.

Janus let out a shaky exhale and took a sip of punch. He glanced over at Pat. “Tell me about yourself, Pat,” he said.

Pat hummed in contemplation. “Well, I went to France recently.”

 “You did?”

“Oui, c'était amusant, mais j'ai eu des ennuis”

“What kind of trouble?” Janus asked curiously.

“Oh, the kind with a pretty boy and crepes that were way too sweet. Anyway,” he continued. “Other than that, I mostly help out my friend. He’s an inventor.”

“And how do you help him.”

He shrugged, “Running errands mostly, and making sure he gets enough sleep, because otherwise he gets distracted and forgets. And you?”

“I’m a banker,” he said, remembering his cover, but felt compelled to add, “but I like to travel as well.”

“You do look the type?”

“And how is that?”

   Pat shrugged. “I can always tell a wandering spirt from the masses, and you are easy to spot.” Pat looked at him then with a secret smile on his face, and Janus felt suddenly known, like the man in front of him had known him for years even though they’d only just met. Looking at him then, he wanted suddenly for that to be fact and not a flight of fancy.

He was brought firmly back to reality in the next moment. “Lee,” a pointed and familiar voice said. Janus’s head snapped up to see Remus, staring at him. He tapped his wrist. Janus glanced at his own wrist: 10:58pm. He just barely managed not to curse.

 “I,” he said looking up at Pat. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“That’s okay,” Pat said easily. “It is getting rather late.”

“Yes,” Janus agreed. “Well… goodbye.”

Pat, titled his head, a half smile on his face. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Janus nodded, and turned away from him towards Remus. He didn’t look back as they excited the ballroom. They snuck into a small side closet for coats that wasn’t being used as it was summer.

“So,” Remus said when the door closed behind them.

“Don’t,” warned Janus.

“I’m not one to judge,” Remus said.

“Shut up.” He glanced at his watch. It was 11:02. “We’ll go in 5.”

 “I have to give it to you. He was very cute.”

“We’re not talking about it.”

Remus just laughed joyfully, and Janus did his best to halt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

At 11:07, well into their window, they slipped back out of the closet, and towards the stairs as the party raged on.

Despite how Remus usually never shut up, he was able to be quiet when it counted. They snuck to the master bedroom of the home’s owners in silence. The door was already wide open by the time they got there, and Janus didn’t think anything of it. At least, he didn’t until they entered the bedroom, and there was someone already there.

 He turned from the dresser he’d been standing in front of to face them, sending Janus the same smile he had down in the ballroom. Janus and Remus both froze. “Sorry, sweetie,” Pat said. “Were you here for this too?” he held up the necklace they’d been sent for. He closed his fist around the charm made out of time travel tech.

“What?” Janus said.

Pat giggled and winked. “Unfortunately, I need it a bit more than you at the moment. So, I’m gonna have to go.” Janus stepped forward, not really sure what he was intending to do, but Pat just smiled. “See you some other time, my Turtle Dove.” With a snap of his fingers and loud crack, he disappeared. The mask he’d been wearing fluttered to the ground.

  Arc I: Finding Cinderella

Chapter 4

Janus was frozen in surprise for a few long moments after Pat disappeared. Which had been, admittedly, his mistake, because, while their window had technically been until 11:17pm and it was only 11:10, the loud crack that whatever Pat had been using for time travel made, garnered the attention of someone else.

“Uh oh,” Remus said, likely hearing footsteps. “Hide.”

That snapped Janus into action, but instead of hiding immediately like a sensible human being, he chose to go for the only link to the man who’d just stolen time travel tech and waltzed away, the mask.

Which was why he ended up getting arrested.

 Remy tsked the moment they were all alone in the police car having come to ‘transfer Lee to another facility.’ Remus was already waiting in the front seat, and flashed Janus a smug smile. If Janus wasn’t still handcuffed, he’d slap him.

“Well,” Remy said. “At least you didn’t shoot anybody like I asked. I was joking by the way. I didn’t really want to pick you up from a 1920s police station period.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm, nah, ‘cause Remus managed to not get arrested this time, so you defiantly screwed something up.”

“Oh, he defiantly wanted to screw something all right,” Remus said joyfully.

 “Remus,” Janus hissed.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not the horny one for once. Well, no, that’s a lie, but it didn’t affect the job this time.”

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

Remy pulled into a seemingly random garage around 20 minutes later. “Alright,” he said. “Here we are.” He got out of the car and then helped Janus out before uncuffing him. “Here’s your ‘watch,’” Remy handed him the timepiece that had been confiscated when he’d been arrested.

Janus put it on and activated it. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“An appointment with cultural outreach has already been downloaded to my calendar for once we get out of decon.”

 “Oof. Going to baby jail,” Remy laughed. Remus was cackling.

“This,” Janus said, “was not a cultural faux pas. I did nothing that indicated that I was not from this time. I am not some rookie.”

“Don’t forget cell phones don’t exist in the 1920s,” Remus sang.

“The real question is whether or not my foot exists in your…” Remus disappeared before he could finish, a smirk on his face. Janus growled. “By Remy,” he gritted out. He selected the decontamination chamber from his queue, ignoring the appointment that came after it for now.

He knew exactly where Remus would be standing when he landed, which was why he stepped forward on reentry to ram into him.

 He yelped in surprise. “Sorry,” Janus said pleasantly. “I must have also forgotten landing procedures.

Remus laughed good naturally. “Aw, come on Jay,” he said, bumping Janus back, albeit much gentler than Janus had been. “It’s not a big deal. You just go talk with some crusty old college professor who is far too interested in spoons and then everything’s fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he growled. “They’re treating me like I’m an idiot who accidently invented disco in the 1920s when I was conned by some free agent time traveler.”

“‘Conned,’ Remus said. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

 “I know where and when you live Remus,” Janus said.

Remus gave him a dopey smile as the decontamination cycle finished and the door unlocked. Janus’s wrist buzzed telling him that the coordinates to the cultural outreach office were now unlocked. Instead of pulling them up, Janus walked to the door.

“Um,” Remus said, following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your appointment?” Janus just kept walking towards their office. “Uh… Jan?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to go to cultural outreach,” Janus said. “In fact, no one can make me. If they want me to go have a discussion about the definition of ‘bushwa,’ they’re going to have to have me dragged there.”

 “Mmm, I feel like The Boss won’t be too happy about that, and I have a feeling she’d be 100% down to dragging you there herself.”

“Well, then, let her,” Janus said, stalking through the door to his office. “I’m not going to…”

“Ah, Agent Picani,” the woman standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for him, said when he came through the door. “Dr. Picani was informed that there were complications with your last mission and wishes to have a conversation with you and asks that you meet him in his office at the AMO.”

“Oh, um,” Janus said, stumbling a bit before plastering on a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, I actually have an appointment right now at Cultural Outreach. It’s mandatory and very important, and I have to go now. So, I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

 “But-” she started, frowning.

“Remus, work on the report!” Janus said quickly as he waved his hand to bring up his timepiece display and jammed his finger at the glowing appointment card in his queue. A few moments later, Janus was at Cultural Outreach.

Cultural Outreach was not part of the TPI, though it often worked very closely with them. It was a collaboration between the government and multiple universities to help government workers, politicians, and other citizens understand and bridge cultural gaps. It had existed before time travel was invented but had expanded to also teach people who needed to time travel how to behave in unfamiliar times and cultures.

 After it had to be expanded to provide for the TPI, it had been moved to Silver Mountains University. The building had once just been a museum, but it had been thoroughly renovated and there had been add-ons for office space and some classrooms. It was still a museum, however, its purpose had expanded greatly and there were many areas that were off limits to the general public.

One of these areas was the fourth floor, where Janus’s timepiece had dumped him. This was the floor that was almost exclusively for TPI agents and staff of Cultural Outreach who worked with them.

 He immediately turned away from the reception area, hoping that he could escape and go sit on the university’s quad or something of the like for the next hour or so in hopes the woman his brother sent to fetch him would give up and go back to the AMO. Yet, the receptionist apparently saw him.

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

Janus grimaced and turned back towards him. “Yes,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re 5 minutes late for your appointment and seem disoriented.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

“Uh… okay. Well, if you sign in here, I can take you to your appointment.”

“…Fine.”

 He begrudgingly stepped forward and touched the screen he’d gestured to sign with his fingerprint, and then let the man lead him down the hall.

The door they stopped at was propped open slightly, but he still paused and knocked. “Professor Eran? Your 2:30 is here.”

Janus had just a moment upon hearing the name to think that maybe there was actually some sort of intelligent design of the universe and whatever being of ultimate power had crafted it was a dick.

The door opened and Virgil Eran’s eyes immediately narrowed on him. “Janus.”

“Virgil.”

“I see you’re still late for everything.”

“I see you’re still a bastard.”

 Janus saw the receptionist slowly back away in the direction they’d come.

“Why don’t you come in?” Virgil said faux pleasantly.

Janus did, because he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point unless he wanted to jump out of a window… or push someone out of a window.

Virgil turned back into his office and took a seat behind his desk. Janus unhappily followed him in and sat across from him.

He took his time pulling up whatever the TPI sent him and reading it over. “So, I see you failed your recovery mission and were arrested in 1923.”

 “It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Virgil gave him that same suspicious look he used to give Janus whenever Janus claimed to have not eaten his hot pockets out of the freezer in the middle of the night. He’d only been lying 80% of the time. Virgil had a tendency to forget what he’d eaten in a half-conscious state at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Janus snapped defensively. “Nothing went wrong with anyone from the time period. An illegal time traveler screwed up the mission details.”

“Well, it is still protocol to make sure nothing slipped when agents go off script. You weren’t prepared to be in a jail cell, and it is possible that you screwed something up.”

 “I didn’t screw anything up,” Janus growled.

“Alright,” Virgil said pulling up a document on his desk. “The mission started on July 27th, 1923 at 9:58pm, correct?”

“Oh, god, we’re not really going to fill out a time sheet. I don’t have time for that today.”

“It is protocol and best that the information is documented when it is still fresh in your mind. Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the workday.” The bastard was enjoying this. He knew how much Janus hated this stuff.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Janus said, “it was the damned illicit time traveler.”

“And I will be the judge of that,” Virgil said. Janus should have just bit the bullet and had coffee with his brother. “If you truly did nothing wrong, your supervisor will see that when I send this to her.”

 Yet, despite the fact that Virgil clearly relished in his suffering, he was charitable enough to do most of the actual filling out of the forms. He’d read out the questions and write down what Janus said instead of making him do it himself. Janus really only had to do a quick quality check and sign it at the end.

He still was an asshole about the details, but really he’d been like that about stupid thing like the settings for the dish washer and how the pantry was organized during their college days before they’d had their falling out, so Janus wasn’t particularly surprised. When they were finally done, Virgil sent it off to get filed by the TPI.

 Then, they were left staring at each other with nothing between them but almost a decade of radio silence and a whole lot of awkwardness.

“I should go,” Janus finally said, standing up.

Virgil tilted his head slightly to the side and gave him a half smile. “Don’t lock the door behind you,” he said. “Not that I’d expect you too.”

Janus took it for the clear attempt at a joke it was intended to be and puffed out a breath of amusement with a head shake. “No risk of that,” he said. Then, he turned and walked out of the office.

 Chapter 5

Janus stepped back into the reception area and booted up his time piece. Instinct said to go back to the office despite the fact that it was late enough that most people had gone home, but he hesitated. Surely Emile had given up by now, but considering he’d sent someone to ambush him in his office, Janus wasn’t sure if he should trust that. He could just go home, but he already knew his mind was racing too much to sleep tonight so he’d probably just end up staring at the lake for the next 6 hours. So, he decided on the only other legitimate option he had. He pulled up Remus’s home coordinates and selected.

 The home that Remus had chosen (after his long line of rejected requests) managed to somehow make no and absolute sense simultaneously to anyone who knew him. It was a small farm in the United States just west of the Mississippi in 1842 in what would be ratified as the state of Iowa in a few years. When asked why he would choose that time and place, Remus always responded with “I thought it was funny,” whatever that meant.

Unlike most time agents who simply used the identities assigned to them by the AMO as a cover, Remus actually lived his part time.

 Janus was… fairly certain he was cheating a bit to get everything done, but he maintained his small farm all on his own, growing most of his own food. The neighbors he had lived very far away, but he still spoke with them far more than Janus did his own.

Janus appeared inside the small home, his eyes already shut. “Are you hear and dressed?” Janus called. Something bumped lightly into his legs.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Janus peaked his eyes open and squatted to pet the cat at his feet. “That doesn’t answer my question!” he called back to Remus.

 “It’s a surprise!” Remus said.

“Remus.” Diesel Fuel the cat flopped to her side on the ground as Janus continued to pet her ears. He heard Remus’s footsteps, and saw cloth covering his legs, so risked looking up. He was currently not only dressed, but wearing an apron that Janus was fairly sure was not time appropriate judging by the fabric and cat pawprint design. He had a bit of flour on his hands, and it may have been a bit too white for the time and place, but Janus couldn’t be completely sure.

“What’re you doing here?” Remus asked.

 “My day has been an endless series of frustrations,” Janus said. “So, I have come to see the only tolerable being in the history of the universe.”

Remus snorted. “Since I know that isn’t me, I’ll assume you’re talking about the cat.”

“I still don’t understand why you tolerate this creature,” Janus addressed Diesel Fuel. She blinked slowly up at him. “To be fair, he was assigned as my partner. I didn’t have much of a choice in it. You could go always run away and become feral in the woods if you’d like.”

“So could you, technically,” Remus pointed out.

“I’m thinking about it after today.”

 “Would you like some bread?” Remus asked. “That’s all I’ve been making this afternoon. Some fresh should be coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”

“Do you have anything stronger made out of wheat?”

“Ew, no, but I do have vodka.”

“Vodka works.”

“Want me to mix it with something?”

“No.”

“One of those night then,” Remus said, easily. “Let me finish up the bread, so I don’t burn the kitchen down. You can go get the alcohol from the cellar while you wait if you want, or you can just flop down on the couch.”

He was going to just flop down on the couch.

 He did just that as Remus disappeared back into his kitchen. The cat hopped onto his stomach, proceeding to purr loudly and kneed at chest. Janus petted the cat and listened to the noise of Remus moving around in the other room, letting his mind drift. His mind drifted to Virgil for a bit and he steadfastly did not allow it to drift to his brother. Yet, the thing that most was on his mind was the strange man who had flirted and charmed Janus all night before mercilessly screwing him over. ��Pat’ he’d said his name was, but surely that was not his real name.

 Janus sighed and scratched the cat’s ear. “He certainly wasn’t an amateur,” Janus mused to the cat. “With that amount of precision to get in before we did, he must have someone not on the ground feeding him information. Perhaps more than one.” He was part of a group of time traveling thieves perhaps or something worse. “I didn’t get a good look at his face since he was wearing a mask,” Janus said, “but I spent a lot of time with him, and I’m sure Remy swiped the mask from the police since it had been on me when I was arrested. It’s a good lead.”

 He continued to pet Diesel Fuel. Eventually, Remus came back in, noticed Janus hadn’t bothered to get the alcohol and went outside to the cellar. “I’m going to find him,” Janus told Diesel Fuel. “I’ll stop whatever it is he’s doing, and I’ll bring him in.” Diesel Fuel mewed her support, and Janus patted her on top of the head.

Remus came back in with the bottle of vodka and handed it to him without a word. He sat down on the couch near Janus’s feet and patted his lap so Diesel Fuel would come over to him and allow Janus to sit up.

 The bastard waited until he was approximately 3 shots in (he didn’t have a shot glass and was just taking drinks from the bottle) to ask the questions Janus really didn’t want to answer. “Are you mad at Emile?” Remus asked.

Janus groaned, trying to wash out the bitter taste of shame and grief with the sharp sting of vodka. It didn’t work. “No,” he said to Remus.

“Then why have you been avoiding him?”

“Shit, I’m here because I didn’t want to think about it. Can’t we just not.”

“Don’t want to think about what?

“It’s none of your business, Remus.”

 He could feel Remus frowning at him, but Janus stared resolutely ahead. At least, he did until a foot poked his face. He slapped it away, but it did the job of getting Janus to look at Remus.

“It is my business,” Remus said, foot still in the air. “I’m your partner and your friend.”

“If I’m your friend, you’ll drop it.”

“So, you’re not mad at Emile,” Remus continued, contemplatively. “Did you do something to him, then?” Janus bit his lip and looked away. “What?” Remus asked. Janus didn’t respond. “Look, I’m sure he’ll forgive you for whatever it is. He’s a good guy. Just talk to him about it.”

 “I can’t,” Janus said.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably been long enough that he forgives you. You literally just have to have a conversation, say you’re sorry, and everything will be A-OK.”

“I can’t,” Janus repeated.

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about it.”

Remus paused. “So, as far as he knows, you just cut contact with him all of a sudden for no reason and have been avoiding him ever since?”

Janus looked at his shoes. “Yeah.”

“That…” Remus said, “is not fucking fair Janus.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are you doing that to him? He’s like… soft and feeling-y. He’s probably really upset.”

 “I know, Remus.”

“Tell him. Whatever it is.”

“I can’t.”

“Look,” Remus said. “You tell him and he either forgives you or he doesn’t. If he does, everything’s fine. If he doesn’t… well, it’s not like it would be any different from you two never being in the same room the last few years. Either way, you can’t just do this to him. He’ll probably forgive you. He’s your brother. Brothers don’t… brothers would forgive each other.”

Janus laughed softly and met Remus’s eyes. “That’s the problem,” he said. “He’d definitely forgive me.” He turned away and opened the vodka bottle again. “Now, if you’ll shut up for a few minutes, I’m going to drink until I black out.”

 Chapter 6

“Really, Khalid,” Janus said, storming into his boss’s office. “A yellow?” It had been about a week since the 1920s incident, and his incident report had finally been cleared. Sure, it wasn’t a red or a black and he wasn’t facing any reprimand, but it should have been a green.

She looked up at him, clearly unconcerned. “There was an incident,” she said. “You handled it well, but there was one. Therefore, yellow.”

“It wasn’t a time travel incident! It was a rouge time traveler.”

“Janus, you helped me make these rules,” she said impatiently.

“Which is why I know this is bullshit,” he snapped.

 She rolled her eyes. “If it was anyone else, you would agree with me. While you didn’t go against protocol and had no time related incidents, the fact of the matter is, you were still distracted by this ‘rouge time traveler,’ didn’t complete your mission, and were arrested.”

“He was good,” Janus said. “You can’t fault me for that. He also could be dangerous and you’re busy handing out yellows instead of working to track him down.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We are working on tracking him down,” she said. “We have done an analysis on the mask and found fibers dating to the 2010s and some DNA. Though it isn’t exactly a high priority.”

 “We have no idea who he is or what he’s planning to do. Why is that not a high priority thing?”

“At the moment?” she asked. “Because we have reports of a time bomb being activated.”

“What?” Janus asked sitting up. “When?”

“New Years Eve going into the year 3,000 in Brazil,” she said. “Which you’d know about if you’d bothered to check your integration port this morning before storming into my office.”

“It’s my mission?” Janus asked.

“The incident investigation is over and your active again despite the dreaded yellow,” she said, clearly making fun of him a bit. “So, yes, and it’s a high priority mission, so I’ll be running it.”

 “Who all is going?” he asked.

“Other than the two of us, Remus, Lena, and Fred,” she told him. “We leave in three hours, so, you might want to run off to Rhi before Fred gets to her and ties her up for an hour on details.”

Janus nodded and got to his feet. He turned back at the door. “I still don’t deserve the yellow,” he hissed.

She waved him off. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Picani.”

He ground his teeth a bit about the dismissal of his worries, but his resentment was slightly soothed by the fact that she’d assigned him to go on such a high priority mission and with only senior agents.

 He took the advice and grabbed Remus from the office, noting Lena hadn’t been able to wrangle Fred yet as she was still at her desk, and they both headed off to see Rhi.

A few hours later, they were all in decontamination together, decked out in truly god-awful costumes. The turn of the third millennia had been a wild event, and the best way to fit in was to look like you’d grabbed something from every century in recorded human history, dyed it in neon paint, and rolled around in a vat of glitter.

Remus had opted to stick his head in a vat of glow in the dark green paint that costuming had offered them, and it wasn’t even going to be slightly disruptive to their covertness.

 In fact, costuming had frowned when Janus had insisted he not get his hair dyed and instead wore a bowler hat. They had required him to have flowers made out of glitter on it.

There were five people waiting for them when they landed 6 hours before the turn of the millennia. Three were touchdown agents, including Remy, and two were on location tech support. Usually it would be overkill to have that many people there just for support even with five agents in the field, but today the TPI needed to be cautious because they were planning on instituting a time lock.

Time bombs were dangerous things that would ripple through time if not contained. Even if it did end up going off (killing everyone in its reach), the time lock would serve to prevent most damage outside of the city and, more importantly, the year it was planted.

 Janus had only been in two time locks before, and he was one of the most senior agents in the TPI, outranked only by the founder: Lia Khalid. Time locks were designed to keep all time linear in a certain fixed time and geographical area as well as prevent any time travel in and out. Once it was engaged, all forms of time travel would not work for the duration, bar the pin device. Khalid was already switching out her regular timepiece with the slightly bigger one that was designed to support the time lock.

There was a failsafe back at the TPI that could be engaged in an emergency, which was why tech support was here, but other than that, the only thing that could break the time lock was that timepiece, and it would break the moment the time lock ended.

 As soon as it was on Khalid’s wrist, she looked up at them all. “Our information says the time bomb was planted in the costume of one of the ‘Millennium Birds’ who are the organizers of the different events,” she said. Janus had seen a photo of the identical costumes in the mission details. They were all robe like garments with giant fans of feathers coming from the neck that coalesced in a peak a foot above their head to hold a fake bird egg. At least they’d be easy to find. “There are 25 of them throughout the city. We need to find each of them. So, we don’t double count, you’ll need to subtly,” her eyes touched on Remus, “scan each one you find for the bomb and tag them with a tracker if it’s not on them. You can view the already tagged ones, as well as the rest of us on your timepiece even once the time lock is engaged. When you find the bomb, call it in.”

 They all nodded, and Khalid looked over at one of the techies. She nodded at her and then the techie flipped a couple of switches. “Three, two, one,” the techie said. There was a slight shift in the air that most people would disregard, but Janus as a seasoned time traveler could feel the change even before his wrist buzzed. He glanced at his timepiece to see it had a big red ‘X’ across its display. He tapped it and was still able to bring up the map of the city with 10 green dots on it all clustered together in their current location.

 After that, he tested the scanner on his timepiece that he would use to search for the bomb, just to make sure the time lock hadn’t messed anything up with his equipment. He glanced up to see everyone else was doing the same.

“Keep in contact,” Khalid said before everyone split up. Janus and Remus started by going North while Fredrick and Darlene were to go South. Khalid was a floater who would tag any Birds she saw but was mostly there for backup and orders.

Janus and Remus stepped into the chaos of New Years Eve before the turn of the third millennia. The streets were already swamped with people and it would only be getting worse the later it go.

“Where should we start?” Remus asked.

 “Let’s go all the way North to the games area,” Janus said. “We can work our way back here.”

“Okay!” Remus said. “I wonder if they have those fun little genetically modified goldfish as prizes. I’ve always wanted to eat one and see if I end up getting whatever design was on the fish on my body.”

Janus gave him a disgusted look.

“What?! People eat fish all the time!”

Janus shook his head. “We’re not playing the games anyway. We have work to do. Important work.”

“Boo,” Remus replied. Janus chose to ignore him as he spotted one of the Millenia Birds letting people into the gaming area.

 They walked over towards the entrance. Janus got in range first and moved to subtly scan the Millenia Bird, Remus doing the same the next moment. After a second, Janus’s timepiece buzzed and lit up red, meaning the bomb was within range. “Well, that was easy,” he said. “It was on the first one we found.”

“Uh…” Remus said. “Jan.” When Janus looked, he was holding up his wrist to show his green lit time piece.

“What?” Janus asked. He quickly moved to rescan the Millenia Bird, and his timepiece came up green as well. Which, meant the bomb was not in range, even though the Millenia Bird had not moved. “But…” He and Remus’s eyes met, and they quickly both started turning in a circle to look at the crowd around him. No one looked like they’d just stolen a time bomb off the Millennial Bird, but then Janus’s eyes caught on a man. He blended in perfectly to his surroundings. He was wearing the disgusting garb of the times, a large light blue piece that bubbled near his hips, and had most of his skin covered in rainbow neon paints. Yet, something about him, the curl of his hair or the way he moved, drew Janus’s eyes to him. He recognized the man immediately even in a completely different dressing style. Yet, what cinched it was the moment Janus’s eyes met his and they seemed to sparkle slightly in the afternoon sun. The next moment, the person Janus knew as Pat, turned to disappear into the crowd.

 Chapter 7

“Him,” was the only thing Janus said before taking off after the figure who had just disappeared into the game area.

“What?” Remus’s voice followed after him. “Janus! What?!”

Janus did not pause, just continuing to run after Pat, hopping over two barricades as a shortcut. Janus cursed when he lost sight of the man for just a moment near the prize table filled with colorful goldfish, but he was able to spot him once again walking into one of the tents. Janus blasted into the tent. It was a game where they raced rats, and when Janus entered, Pat was cooing at one of them.

 “Who’s a tiny little squishy precious baby?” he was asking one of them, wiggling his pointer finger at it.

“You,” Janus growled stepping up to him.

He turned and tilted his head at Janus with a frown. “Um, me?” he asked, pointing to his chest, all sorts of innocent, but Janus could see a spot of hidden amusement in his eyes.

“Where is it?”

His eyebrows drew together, but it was an act. It was clearly an act! “Where is what?”

“The…” he glanced around them at the people surrounding them. “Thing you just took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Pat said with a frown.

 “Oh, no,” Janus said. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fooling me twice is not an option.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Pat said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. Shit.”

Just then, Remus jogged into the tent. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s him,” Janus said pointing. “He took it. He has it.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patton said. He looked over to Remus with a confused frown.

Remus looked at Janus. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “It’s him. It has to be him. He’s the mask guy.”

Remus squinted at Pat. “He is?”

“Whoever you think I am, I’m not. I haven’t worn a mask all night. I just did the face paint,” he pointed to his cheeks.

 Remus raised his wrist and his timepiece lit up green. He looked at Janus.

“I lost sight of him for five seconds. He must have stashed it somewhere,” Janus said. He turned on Pat. “Where did you put it?”

“…Are you,” Pat asked, his eyes going back and forth between Janus and Remus, “… the police?”

“We are, actually,” Khalid said as she stepped into the tent. Remus must have called her. She inserted herself between Janus and Pat. “Agent Khalid,” she said, offering a hand with a smile. Pat looked at it in surprise and then smiled back hesitantly as he took it. “Apologizes, one of the big game prizes was stolen by someone matching your description. Would you mind coming down to security for questioning? Just to clear it up.”

 “Oh,” Patton said, hesitant. Janus expected him to refuse outright, but then he said. “Uh, sure.”

“Thank you very much, Mr…”

“Jonas,” Pat told her earnestly. “Do I need to be handcuffed?”

“No,” Khalid said. Janus frowned at her, but she ignored him. “It’s just a talk for now.” She gestured to the tent entrance. “Come with us.”

He did without argument, and Remus and Janus followed behind the both of them. Khalid did not lead them back to the base, but to a little spot that said “security” near the center of the event. Remy was already there waiting for them at a desk.

 “Remy, would you please take Mr. Jonas to go sit down?” she asked.

“Sure, boss,” Remy said, standing up. He led Pat away.

Khalid turned to Janus and Remus once they were out of earshot. “What is going on?”

“It’s the mask man,” Janus said, “the one from 1923, and my scanner said the time bomb was on the Millenia Bird outside the games entrance, but then it was gone the next second, and I saw him, and then he ran away.”

“So, does he have it on him?”

“No. I lost sight of him, and he must have stored it somewhere, but I know he took it.”

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“He’s the man from 1923?” she asked.

“Yes! Remus, that’s him, right? You recognize him.”

“Well,” Remus said thoughtfully. “He was in a mask, and it was dark in the room with the necklace. Other than that, I only really saw his back, and he was wearing pants. Mr. Jonas is wearing a dress, so I can’t really tell if their asses match.”

“Okay, but I was with him for hours. I swear it’s him, and I swear he took it,” Janus just about shouted.

“We’ll question him,” Khalid placated, “and Fred and Lena will keep looking in the meantime.”

 “He knows where it is,” Janus insisted. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Khalid said, before leaving to follow where Remy and Pat had gone. She stopped Janus with a hand on his shoulder. “I think Remus and I will do the interrogation.” He opened his mouth to argue. “You know the most about him, so observe from the sidelines and see if he makes any mistakes that indicate you’re right.”

“That’s just to placate me and you know it.”

“Observation’s over there,” she said pointing.

He got a thumbs up from Remus as he walked by, and Janus glared at his back before walking off to the indicated location.

 He watched as Remus and Khalid entered the room, and Remy left it. Remy joined him in the observation room after leaving and leaned against the wall.

Pat was sitting at a table and watched Remus and Khalid with that same rubbish placid confusion that he had before. “So,” Khalid said, “Mr. Jonas.”

“You can call me Nick,” Pat interrupted.

“Lia,” Khalid replied. He smiled at her happily. “So, are you enjoying your day?” she asked.

“I am!” he replied. “It’s a big day. You only get to see the turn of a millennia once in your life.”

“Ah, yes,” Khalid said. “Doing anything special for it?”

 “Um, not really,” he said. “Other than the party. I’m going to meet up with my roommates after dinner. Kevin doesn’t like this sort of thing, and Joe couldn’t come.”

“Your roommates,” Khalid said, considering him. “Do you live around here?”

“Uh huh,” Pat replied.

“Do you have any ID?”

“I do, want me to get it?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Pat unzipped one of the bubbles on his waist and handed her a chip. “Remus, would you mind going out and getting the ID scanner?” she asked, even though her timepiece would be able to read it.

“Ah, shit,” Remy said. “Props. What do those things even look like?”

 As Remy scrambled to find something that would pass for an ID reader so “Nick” didn’t get suspicious of Khalid using her timepiece, Janus watched the two alone in the room like a hawk.

“I see you’re wearing a dress inspired by the 2770s,” Khalid noted, as Remus came to stand next to him.

“Yeah!” Pat replied. “Joe made it for me. He’s really good at fashion design!”

“Can I see?” she asked.

With a happy smile, he reached over the table to let her get a look of the sleeves. Janus saw her subtly scan the fabric, probably to make sure it was from the 2990s and not actually from the 2770s. Considering she didn’t mention it, Janus assumed it checked out.

 Remy came back with some sort of device then and handed it to Remus who saluted and wandered back into the interrogation room. Khalid pretended to scan the ID in her hand. She handed it back to him without comment. “So, you said you live with your roommates: Joe and Kevin?” she asked.

“Yep!” he replied. “We’re practically like brothers.”

“Would you mind calling them?”

“Erm,” he titled his head like he was confused by the question. “Well, like I said, Joe is a bit busy, but I could definitely call Kevin.

“Here,” Khalid said, “use my phone.”

“I have my own,” he said with a frown.

“Humor me,” she requested.

“Uh, okay,” Pat agreed. He took the offered 2999 phone and dialed a number on it. Khalid reached over to put it on speaker.

“Hello?” a voice asked after a few seconds.

“Um, hey Kevin, it’s Nick.”

There was a sigh on the other end. “Hello Nick, is something wrong? Why are you calling me from someone else’s phone?”

“I’m fine, I think.” He looked up at Khalid. “Why am I calling him exactly?”

“Hello, I’m Officer Khalid,” Khalid said. “I just wanted to confirm that you are Nick Jonas’s roommate, and he does live in Manaus.”

“Yes, we live together with our other roommate,” the man replied flippantly. “Officer? Is something wrong?”

“I believe there was just a case of mistaken identity,” Khalid said.

“Bullshit there was!” Janus hissed, though she could not hear him.

“No need to worry,” Khalid continued.

“I’m good Kevin,” Pat said.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kevin asked.

“Don’t be Paranoid, Kevin. I’ll see you Tonight for the New Years Celebration. You know I Live to Party.”

“I am hanging up now,” Kevin said.

“No! Comeback.” The line went dead. Pat handed the device back to Khalid.

She took it and smiled at him. “Give us just a couple of minutes,” she requested. He nodded easily, and she and Remus exited the interrogation room. “I… think we’re done here,” Khalid said.

“No, he’s lying,” Janus insisted, and got a dubious look in return. “I know he is! Remus!”

“The alibi is pretty solid…” Remus said, “and he doesn’t have the bomb on him.”

“Oh, come on,” Janus said. “You can’t say there is nothing fishy going on here.”

Khalid and Remus shared a look. “Janus,” Khalid said. “I respect your intuition. It is usually very good, but you have been a bit intense about the man from the 1920s, and I think that may be blinding you a bit...”

“I am not imagining this!” Janus said. “That’s him and he took it.”

“You only met him once while he was wearing a mask,” Khalid pointed out with a frown, “and you didn’t see him take the bomb, did you?”

“No, but he looked at me and I knew,” Janus argued. They both gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on!”

“You know that’s a little weak, Jan,” Remus said.

“Let me talk to him,” Janus requested. “Just give me five minutes to talk with him.”

Khalid raised one eyebrow. “Fine,” she agreed. “You have five minutes, but after that, you have to let it go. We can’t waste any more time.”

 Chapter 8

Pat looked up as Janus stepped into the interrogation room. “Hi,” he said with an innocent smile that could cut steal.

Janus didn’t say a word as he took a seat; he just watched him intently. He leaned slightly over the table and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “So, your name is Nick this time?” Janus asked.

“Nicholas Jonas,” he said. “Always has been.”

“Stop it,” Janus said.

“Stop what?”

“Cut the crap. I know.”

Pat leaned forward, mirroring Janus as he leaned closer, interlocking his fingers and laying his chin on top of his knuckles. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked, pleasantly.

 “Janus,” Janus replied.

“No, I’m Jonas,” he said, pointing to his chest.

“Not Jonas,” Janus spat. “Janus.”

“Um,” Pat said, eyes alight with amusement. The bastard. “Those are the same words.”

“No, they’re not. It’s Janus. J-A-N-U.-S.”

“Well, that’s confusing,” Pat said with a frown, but his nose was crinkling. “It’s close to my name. You should go by a nickname instead.”

“What?” Janus said. “No.”

Pat hummed. “How about Love Bug?”

“What! No!” Janus sputtered, almost flipping the table, as Pat winked at him.

“BB Good?”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Mandy.”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, how about Macy Misa.”

11594

Janus stared at him for a moment. “Fine. Whatever. What was I even talking about?”

“Hmm. I Believe we were talking about my name and how you think it’s not my name.”

“Right,” Janus said. “So, Nick. That was your roommate, Kevin on the phone, right? He seemed a bit unhappy with you. Any reason?”

“Nah, we’re Cool” said Pat. “That’s Just the Way We Roll.”

“Not because you’re messing up a mission right now?”

Pat’s eyes crinkled together. “A mission?” he parroted. “I’m not messing up a mission.”

“Oh, really?” Janus growled. “Because you’ve been captured by the TPI, and I know who you are and what you’ve been doing.”

“I have no idea what the TPI is,” he claimed.

“Yes, you do!” Janus said, standing up. “You obviously do! Or you wouldn’t be playing this game!”

 “Game?” Pat asked. “Macy I ask you what you’re talking about.”

“This is all just a game to you isn’t it!” Janus said, slamming his hands down on the table in front of them.

“Whoa,” Pat said, putting his hands up. “Calm down. Your face is getting all red. You must be Burnin’ Up.”

“I’m not sure what, but something about what you just said pisses me off.”

“And that is five minutes,” Khalid said, bursting into the room. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt and glared back at Remus who was putting his own body between Janus and Pat.

 “There was no way that was five minutes,” Janus growled.

“It was five minutes,” Khalid gritted out. “Remus, get him out of here.”

“Come on Jay,” Remus said, dragging him back towards the door.

“Remus, I swear to god.”

“Just chill, Janus,” Remus said, slamming the door closed behind them.

Janus shrugged him off. “You chill!” he snapped. “He’s playing you all for the fool.”

“Wow, Macy,” Remy drawled like an asshole. “I’ve never seen you so fired up.”

“Oh, my gosh. No one is going to believe me, and he’s going to get away with this.”

“You’re not really helping your case, babe,” Remy said.

 Remus grabbed him by the shoulders again. “Here, let’s go get some water.”

“I don’t want water,” he said even as he let Remus lead him to another room to get a glass of water.

“Look,” Remus said. “I know the Mask Guy thing really sucked, but you have to look at the facts.

“I am looking at the facts,” Janus insisted, “and the facts are, he’s fucking with me.”

“You don’t know what mask guy looks like,” Remus said. “You didn’t see Nick take the time bomb, he has an ID from this time period and a roommate in this time he called on the phone, and he legitimately seems to not know what any of us are talking about.”

 “Did you even listen to our conversation?” Janus asked. “He was screwing with me the entire time!”

“Janus…” Remus said.

“What?” Janus said, narrowing his eyes at Remus’s tone.

“I know you recently had a bad experience, but not everyone who flirts with you is doing it out of evil.”

Janus’s mouth hung open for a few seconds. “That’s what you got out of our conversation?”

“He called you Love Bug.”

Janus felt his face heat a bit at the reminder. “That’s not… I. I’m stealing your cat and then never speaking to you again.”

Remus laughed. “Ah,” he said. “Young lust.”

Janus elbowed him roughly in the side. “No!”

“Yes!” he crooned, pleased.

[visionsofus]

Wanda and Vision's Mixtape

track #2: Infinity by Jaymes Young

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request | synopsis: In which Wanda and Vision sneak out of the compound and go on a date and just revel in the act of being together in public. The rest of the team doesn't know yet so they're working had on keeping everything a secret. When they arrive back Vision is so enamoured with Wanda that he trips the Compound alarms, waking everyone up with the fear of a break in at the front of their mind only to find the pair in a compromised position.

darling my soul, it aches for yours

Wanda had lost track of time in the hours that she and Vision had been away from the compound. Around 5pm she and Vision had snuck out of the compound in one of the cars from the garage. Wanda had insisted on driving in order to preserve the secret of where she had planned their date. A forty-minute journey later and she was pulling into the busy car park of an annual attraction along the Hudson River: a month-long winter market.

Wanda undid her seat belt with a slow click and hesitantly looked over to Vision. They didn’t often come out into public like this, just the two of them, but she was hoping it would add a sense of normalcy that neither of them really had in their day to day lives. Plus, she’d brought a disposable camera with her and knew the photos would look gorgeous with the dark expanse of river behind them and the twinkle of fairy lights overhead.

“This is exciting, I’m surprised you managed to keep it a secret from me,” Vision said as Wanda pulled two tickets out of her pocket that she’d ordered in preparation for tonight. She grinned and waved the tickets before her in anticipation.

Vision made to get out of the car but paused and looked down at himself. He was dressed fairly regularly; Wanda had warned him that they’d be walking out in the cold, so he had on a navy sweater topped with a thick black wool coat. The only difference was that Vision was a synthezoid and his complexion was, well, blue and red and silver. Wanda’s heart dropped a little and she watched as Vision closed his eyes and, in a moment, assumed his human form.

“I’m sorry, Vis,” Wanda murmured, almost crushing the tickets in her hands in frustration. Here was the main reason they never went on dates in public – Vision always had to hide himself.

“There’s no need to apologise,” Vision said catching her hand and pulling the two tickets away. “I’m just as much me as always.”

Wanda hummed contemplatively and tried to keep the disappointment from her face, she didn’t want to ruin tonight, not when they had finally managed to make enough excuses to get away unseen by the rest of the team.

“Here,” Vision said pulling her hand up to his forehead. “It’s just me.”

“Yes,” Wanda said brightening at the warmth under her hand and the feeling of his consciousness below that. Somewhere deeper the stone was there for sure but these days she was taking less and less notice of it.

“Now let’s go and have a wonderful time, I have no doubt you have all sorts planned.”

Wandahad planned a fair bit for their date and had been looking forward to participating in the many fair-like activities that occupied the bustling wharf. But, as it always seemed to end up, they instead spent their time at the quiet end content to listen to the sound of each other’s voices and take in the interesting space around them. The bustling market was made up of a collection of stalls featuring independent artists displaying a variety of artisanal foods, art work and other creative wares. Vision was a constant warmth at her side and Wanda realised how much she missed having him pressed to her like this. The constant physical connection between them was usually hidden back at the compound given that they hadn’t found the right moment to tell the rest of the team they were together. Now that they were out away from the watchful eyes of their housemates, they were free to just be themselves together.

As Wanda sipped on the warm cup of mulled wine Vision stuck to her side, one of her arms tucked into his as they walked along the creaking planks of the wharf.

“Have you thought more about telling the team about us yet?” Vision asked casually as Wanda hovered before a handmade jewellery store. They’d both decided to wait but Wanda knew it was beginning to wear both of them down. If being out on this date was telling her anything it was that they both wanted to be this way all the time, and it was getting more and more difficult to hide that.

“I know we said to wait,” Wanda ran her fingertips softly over the pendant of a necklace, not unlike the one that hung around her own neck. A deep red gem hung encrusted in brushed bronze from a silver chain. It was a beautiful piece, even if the price was hefty enough to make her stomach drop a little. “But I don’t know how long we can keep it up.”

“Let’s go over the pros and cons again,” Vision said as Wanda led the way to the next stall. Their list had been growing over the main conversations they’d had on this very topic.

“Well,” Wanda began squeezing a little closer to him as a breeze blew through the stands, making merchandise flutter atop unsteady tables. “Con: we don’t know how the others will react.”

“Based on watching them all react to Mr Stark’s announcement I can’t imagine they’ll disagree with us.”

“Hmm but Pepper and Tony have been together for years.”

“We’ll be together for years.”

Wanda smiled at the warm feeling blossoming in her chest and leant her head against his warm shoulder.

“Con: them knowing could change things between us.”

Neither of them had much to say to dispute this one as it was a common fear for both of them. Deep down both knew that there wouldn’t be backlash to the news of their romantic attachment except perhaps to the newness of it. But things would no doubt change once those they lived with learnt of their relationship.

Wanda was first to break the silence, “Pro: no more hiding.”

“Con: no more hiding,” Vision countered with a conspiratorial smirk.

She looked tilted her head in question at him.

“Oh, come on you have to agree that it’s a little fun keeping this a secret, right?”

Wanda laughed and pushed his shoulder lightly. There was a level of entertainment to the sneaking around they’d had to keep up for the past months, but she couldn’t deny the relief that would come with letting the rest of the team in on their new status.

Before the conversation could be debated further Wanda caught sight of a bench pressed against the railing of the board walk, a backdrop of inky water and dark horizon line lay behind. It was the perfect opportunity for a photo.

“This way, come on,” Wanda said dragging Vision in the direction of the bench. On the way she snagged a kind looking man and asked if he wouldn’t mind taking photos of her partner and her. She relished in saying it out loud.

They posed together, sitting on the bench with arms around each other, Wanda’s head again resting against his shoulder. A few snaps of the disposable camera and the man handed it back to them before returning to his own party of friends.

“Why are you using this one instead of your phone?” Vision asked turning over the camera in his hands.

Wanda thought for a moment. “There’s convenience to instant photos but there’s an excitement to taking a photo of a memory and going to get the photos developed once the camera is full. It’s like saving bits of memory away for later.”

“And this is a memory that you want to save?” It wasn’t really a question, but he waited for her confirmation anyway. “Well, we’ll have to capture some more of this moment then.”

With that he lifted the camera once more and wound an arm around her shoulders. Wanda grinned and leaned in for the photo. They took one of themselves smiling beneath the twinkling lights and then another of Vision kissing her cheek. Though she wouldn’t see the photos for another month when she finished up the roll of camera, Wanda knew how she looked in them and knew that the light shining from her eyes had nothing to do with her powers and everything to do with who was beside her.

Two hours later the market shut for the night and the patrons were directed back to waiting cars. Wanda had had a couple of cups of mulled wine, so she let Vision handle the car – though she preferred driving it automatic, Vision had no trouble setting the Stark car to auto drive and letting the vehicle take them home. It left them free to talk more on the drive.

“We probably should tell them sooner than later,” Vision murmured as he rubbed a gentle thumb over the back of Wanda’s hand.

“I know,” she said gazing at the road ahead of them.

“But we should wait a few more weeks,” Vision said, “I don’t want to share us just yet.”

Wanda smiled and leant over to kiss him tenderly. It was exactly what she felt. There was a distinct special element to their relationship that was being protected by their secrecy and she knew that they’d be under scrutiny the moment the rest of the team were in on it. The more selfish part of her, that she didn’t take a lot of joy in acknowledging, knew that she also didn’t want to have to share Vision. It took a sharp mental reminder every now and then to not be possessive, but the plain truth was that no one at the compound knew Vision like she did, and no one else came close to understanding her the way he did. It was no surprise that their feelings had transformed from platonic affection to romantic. Not with their nearly instantaneous bond and the way it had only been strengthened by a year and a half of living with each other. Wanda’s body and mind and very soul called out for Vision in a way she wasn’t sure she had believed was possible, certainly not since she was very, very young and still believed in happy endings.

“You have reached your destination, please present for identification,” said the mechanical voice of the car as it rolled to a stop before the gates to the Avengers compound. The drive back had been far too quick for Wanda’s liking, but nonetheless she reluctantly displayed her key card to the machine outside her window.

The car had deposited them on the steps of the compound’s residential building that housed the two of them and the rest of the team who lived onsite. Wanda’s hand remained held tightly by Vision as he directed the car to take itself back to the garage and the vehicle trundled off.

“It’s too soon,” Wanda said swinging their entwined hands between them as they turned to the front door.

“Before we go in, I have something for you,” Vision said.

Wanda watched in surprise as he fished around in his coat pocket before eventually presenting her with a small jewellery box. She took it gently in her hands and gasped as the box flipped open to reveal the pendant that she had been admiring at the young jeweller’s store back at the pier.

“How–”

“I saw you looking at it and I know how much your necklace means to you,” Vision said lifting the gift out of its box and Wanda turned around slightly, still shocked, as he placed it to rest around her neck. “I thought you could wear it on missions or when you’re worried about losing the Sokovian one.”

“Vis,” Wanda murmured, fingers running over the fine jewellery. It was funny that this piece, which cost far more than her original necklace, could act as a replacement for the cheap pendant that had come with her from Sokovia. His sentiments were sweet, but she was just as unlikely to want to part with it as the original, now that Vision had gifted it to her.

“Beautiful,” Vision replied, kissing Wanda’s forehead and she knew that he wasn’t talking about the necklace.

A light flicked on a few floors above and they both froze, breaths held, in moments it had gone off again. Wanda let loose a relieved breath and started to laugh.

“What’s so funny,” Vision asked grinning with her as, instead of opening the front door he phased the two of them through.

“Oh, Vis it’s just so silly, all of this,” Wanda said wiping tears from her eyes as she shook with laughter. “Here we are, in a superhero base hiding around corners like scared teenagers, we’re even sneaking in after midnight like we’ve missed our curfew.” She dissolved into hushed laughter again as they made it into the entrance hall.

“Hush, hush,” Vision said as he pulled her down the hall but was trying not to laugh himself, his eyes gleaming in the unlit entry.

Wanda kept laughing despite his hurried attempts to stay quiet and instead pulled him against the wall of the corridor.

“What are you–”

“Shush.”

Wanda kissed him as she’d wanted to all night. Starting softly, he pulled her closer as the kiss deepened. One of Vision’s hands strayed up to brush against the base of her throat, brushing her hair aside. A shiver ran down her spine that was entirely involuntary and nothing to do with the cold. The feeling never got old, and it always left her breathless for more.

“Who’s there?” Came a cry from the end of the hall, leading to the kitchen.

Their heads parted in surprise and they turned towards the voice, squinting as the lights flickered to life overhead.

Wanda’s was still somewhat pressed to the wall and one of Vision’s arms was holding her waist loosely and it took a moment for her to process what was happening.

They’d been caught.

A small crowd had gathered at the end of the corridor, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Rhodey, Clint and Natasha were looking on with a mixture of surprise and amusement. All were in a varying levels of disarray, half clothed in pyjamas and hair tousled from sleep. Bare feet slapped on the stairs as Peter Parker ran down, tugging a sweater over his head and almost tumbling the last few steps.

“Woah what’s going on, I heard the alarms were going off and–” Peter broke off mid-sentence when he caught sight of the scene before him.

“I did not wake up for this shit,” Natasha said turning tail and heading back upstairs before anything more could happen, but Wanda was relieved to see a smile on her face.

“And here I thought it was the teenager causing all the commotion,” Sam chuckled stepping in to join the scene from the kitchen. He nursed a warm mug of something and the dressing gown hanging loosely around his shoulders was cinched at the waist.

“Well, this is unexpected…” Bruce trailed off rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry for disturbing you.”

This was perhaps the most awkward thing that anyone had said so far. Wanda didn’t really know where to look but was conscious of Vision taking a step back as they submitted to the mixed emotions of their friends.

“I called it, Cap owes me 100 bucks,” Tony said crossing his arms before him and turning to Steve who still was struggling to process what was before him. “Pay up.”

Steve didn’t appear to be listening properly and was mumbling, “I never knew. How did I never know? I trained them?”

“Well, this has been sufficiently uncomfortable,” Rhodey said rubbing at his forehead in a way that made it clear he was looking for any way out of this situation. “I guess everyone back to bed. False alarm?”

“Yeah, next time please use the door normally and don’t set off half the alarms in the building. Friday thought someone had broken in.”

“That was my fault, it won’t happen again,” Vision saw owning up to the phasing incident earlier.

“Sure, sure,” Tony said waving his hand and turning to go back upstairs, pushing Peter in front of him.

“But Mr Stark,” Peter whispered, struggling to get another look at Wanda and Vision “what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

The others followed suit, either too tired or baffled to deal with the present situation. They all retreated back upstairs until only Sam was left sipping at his tea with a mixture of amusement and something akin to disbelief.

“Uh… congrats?” Sam grinned tipping his cup to them.

“Yep, yep ok good night, Sam,” Wanda said waving him on his way as he turned back to the kitchen.

She slumped against the wall, glad to be alone with Vision again. He hadn’t moved since pulling away from her and was staring at the ground.

“You ok?” She reached a hand out to his shoulder cautiously. This definitely wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

“Of all the ways I thought they would react, the probabilities I ran, that was certainly not one of them.”

This time it was Vision who broke out laughing and soon they were both close to tears of laughter once more. Wanda clutched at her stomach and hung off Vision’s arm as they headed upstairs together. The delivery certainly hadn’t been ideal, but it was one worry out of the way, one less complication standing between them. Wanda put an arm out to stop Vision as they reached the top of the stairs which lead to the communal living room and various bedroom suites.

As though thinking the same thing, Vision stopped and held his hand out. She didn’t hesitate as she grabbed his and pulled him the rest of the way, their hands intertwined in a way that had Wanda thinking she’d never need to let go.

[smoochkooks]

—the (un)holy cock-up (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst 

⟶ word count: 14.5k

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, profanity, unnecessary amount of biblical puns, some critic on catholic church, this is a heavy read be aware

⟶ summary: there is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sunday’s spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as your boss.

when your small cock-up goes unnoticeably out of your hand, you find yourself in a situation painted in all shades of wrong.

or, alternatively: when it’s forbidden, it tastes bittersweet.

a/n: please, before you read this: take the warnings seriously. this is not a light read, it touches some heavy and quite controversial topics. tit also involves a scene where a person in charge exhibits inappropriate behavior towards their subordinate which I do not condone, however it’s all done with consent.

ps. im really proud of this work so give me some love please:(

Fingertips typing furiously on the keyboards, sights focused on the computers’ screens, brows furrowed, minds utterly concentrated and all of this accompanied by angelic voices of various religious songs playing in the background.

This is how a typical day at Sunday’s Spirit editorial department goes by.

The newspaper is a local source of information for the catholic community not only in the city of Busan, but in the whole country. Its history starts in 70s, when Park Min-Sung with his wife started publishing the very first version of the Sunday’s Spirit, selling copies in front of churches. Young activists definitely hadn’t anticipated such a big success, especially due to hard times of the military dictatorship in Korea, but two decades later they have become one of the most affluent families in Busan. The newspaper remains the Park’s legacy till these days, being owned by Min-Sung’s son, with the original founder’s grandson Jimin as an editor-in-chief.

Sometimes you ponder how did you end up in this kind of situation. Sitting at your desk with eyes glued to the screen, working for the catholic newspaper with Mary did you know and other holy songs playing from the Spotify’s Blessed Hits playlist.

First of all, you aren’t quite a Jesus stan yourself. Not a regular churchgoer, Bible reader or a person who lives according to God’s will with Ten Commandments written on your heart and soul.

Someone may wonder, what a young, aspiring journalist like you is doing here? Yes, that’s right.

Money is the reason.

The perspectives of wealthy life as a presenter in the national television or a host in the radio were just a mirage, because after receiving your master degree in journalism you realised that, unfortunately, a bright future was bright only in your unreal dreams.

The case was simple. You needed money. Your bank account was literally screaming at you to get your shit together and figure something out before you end up under the bridge. So you started searching for a job, looking over various offers on the Internet for two weeks straight. A waitress? Nah, too clumsy for that. Jewelry seller? Definitely not, since you are a happy owner of a few pairs of earrings from etsy-like online shop that certainly have nothing to do with real gold. You were almost convinced you’re destined to be a sexworker but then you stumbled upon an offer from the Sunday’s Spirit.

It was your chance. A God himself decided to take pity on you.

In that exact moment the genre of the newspaper wasn’t important. The vision of bankruptcy was enough for you to wear knee-length black skirt, white button-up shirt and a pair of high heels you’ve never worn before and go on a job interview with plastered smile on your face, looking delightful like you have just given birth to Jesus Christ in Bethlehem.

All the Hollywood actresses could be put into shame after your Oscar-winning performance you acted out on the interview in front of middle-aged woman in checked jacket that no one wears since 90s. Your enthusiasm and assurance you live good, catholic woman’s life, along with your master degree and motivational letter (you added a quote from The Letter to Philipians at the end of it to spice it up) was enough to be accepted for the position of Ask and you shall find column creator.

The job itself wasn’t complex or tough. The newspaper on its online site has a page where people can create an account and send asks to the author of the column who responds to them. You did something wrong and you aren’t sure it should be considered a sin? Having problems with regular praying on mornings and evenings? Write to us and we will solemnly help you with the God’s blessing, it says.

This is basically how it works. Each week, the said journalist chooses the most interesting questions and answers to make an article to the Sunday’s Spirit’s next publication. Of course, you can’t answer those questions the way you would like. You must do it according to the catholic laws and God’s plan (the True God’s plan, not Drake’s). A woman who interviewed you even gave you a notebook full of already made-up responses and a list of things you definetely mustn’t write if you still want to be employed.

To be completely frank, you don’t hate your job that much. You actually feel kind of nice, helping other people with their problems. You’ve been doing this for six months now and during this period of time you got used to some things.

A ‘Jesus, I trust you’ framed picture you swore your mother gave you on your 16th birthday standing on your desk. Holy beats blasting through the speakers until you leave the office at 5pm. A big-ass cross hanging right in front of the entrance to the editorial. Lee Chin-sun, the Weekly News column author, rushing to Park Jimin’s bureau every day at different hours in her pencil skirts and high heels knocking on the floor.

There’s only the Pentecost in the middle of the office that could actually surprise you.

“Looks like our Mary Magdalene is going to Jesus cave again,” mutters Kim Taehyung, the newspaper’s main photographer, friend from your desk and, actually, the only friend you have here. Very much gay and just like you, in desperate need for money. “It’s her third visit today. I wonder what it is this time. New prayer to Pope Francis she found?” he whispers and you chuckle at that quietly, looking around if anyone pays attention to your conversation, but everyone seems busy doing their own stuff. “Maybe she’s sucking his dick right now and we all think they are playing Who said it? Bible edition,” he adds in a hushed tone.

You start thinking about it for a while. Is that really possible for someone like Park Jimin, the editor-in-chief of the Sunday’s Spirit to have a sexual relationship with his coworker? The man who has a smaller version of Pietà in his office?

“I mean look at him. I would smash that ass too.”

You roll your eyes at Taehyung words, going back to your previous task but every time you try to concentrate, the face of your boss appears in front of your eyes uncontrollably.

Truth to be told, Park Jimin was a sight.

Blond hair, always perfectly styled and simply parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Dark, sharp eyes that seem to pierce right through your soul and full, plump lips which could only be described as kissable.

He wears only high fashion brands, wandering through the office in Prada and Tom Ford suits that hugs his sculpted body just right. You think that as for a person who never misses Sunday’s mass, Park Jimin has also nice thighs. And a fine piece of ass, as Taehyung would describe it.

Newest Rolex that costs probably more than you will ever earn in your entire life on his wrist, Mercedes who just got brought out to the international market standing on his parking spot in front of the building, an apartment in the most luxurious area in Busan.

Park Jimin inhales God’s mercy and exhales money.

You spoke to him more explicitly only once, on your first day at work. He greeted you and wished good luck, saying that everything will be fine because you know, God’s good. Since that day, Park Jimin seems out of your reach. You contact him only through email, sending articles for him to check and approve, occasionally receiving some short message from him to improve this and that. He rarely leaves his office during working hours but when he does, it’s either for business meetings outside the editorial or for a lunch at nearby restaurant.

There’s also one, special occasion, every Friday, that’s a sacred time for all the employees. The clock hits 12am and so it begins. The angelic voices stop singing and everybody shifts on their sits.

“Oh, Holy Judas. I almost forgot about my favourite part of the week,” Taehyung sighs, standing up from his desk. And by that, he means-

“Friday’s Bible contemplation lunch break, everyone please gather up at the cafeteria.” Park Jimin’s sweet as honey voice says through the speakers.

You stand up from your chair with reluctance. Taking food with you, you go to the cafeteria, following Taehyung.

That’s actually the next thing you got used to while working at Sunday’s Spirit. Bible contemplation meetings are, as you found out from Taehyung, Jimin’s idea after he became an editor-in-chief almost one year ago. Every Friday all the workers sit together, eat their lunches and listen to Jimin as he reads a certain chapter from the book with true admiration written on their faces. After that, he usually asks some questions holding a discussion among the participants who, unlike you, happily takes part in.

The cafeteria looks rather normal, like any other lunchrooms you see in offices. Painted in bright yellow colors, with a few tables and a typical kitchen set in the back. Except for one thing.

A replica of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper hanging on the wall.

You decided a long time ago that you don’t want to know how much money it cost Jimin to have something like that here.

The newspaper’s workers, almost like the twelve Apostles, sit together by the tables. Lee Chin-sun at the very front, looking completely mesmerized by today’s Park Jimin’s appearance. He’s wearing navy blue suit that Taehyung swears it’s from Hugo Boss. The place next to Chin-sun is always occupied by tall, black-haired guy named Choi Eunwoo, main graphic designer, hopelessly in love with her since his first days at work. Behind them there’s a group from emendation department, with their leader Min Yoongi and other journalists. You always sit with Taehyung at the back, near the kitchen, not necessarily paying attention to what’s happening in the front.

Jimin, as on every Friday, walks to the small podium, designed to look like a pulpit in the church and opens the Bible. But one thing is odd: Jimin ain’t no priest or altar boy himself and he certainly dosen’t look like one, flipping through the pages of what you think it’s New Testament this time.

From your point of view, you could practically see how Chin-sun sighs with content expression on her face, lacing her fingers together on the lap and straightening her back. Eunwoo, on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably on his seat, sending Chin-sun quick glances full of unspoken longing she never acknowledges, to his dismay.

Then, Park Jimin clears his throat and the whole cafeteria goes quiet.

Truth to be told, you never really listen to what he’s reading. This time is no different. You just chew on your avocado sandwich, occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Your boss’ smooth voice reaches your ears faintly but you don’t pay attention to it, focusing on eating and Taehyung’s hushed rumbling instead.

“Look at our Mary Magdalene, she looks like she might burst a nut just by listening to CEO Jesus,” he says, making you peek at the girl.

Mary Magdalene is a nickname that Taehyung made up for Chin-sun when he started working at Sunday’s Spirit, mainly because of her attitude and relationship with Jimin. It’s rather platonic, at least for now. She looks at him with pure admiration on her face and she literally melts everytime he smiles at her. But Chin-sun’s ‘stalking’ isn’t unreasonable. Her father is a well-known philanthropist in Busan. He donates catholic charities, churches and, what’s the most interesting – he has some connections with Jimin’s father, the owner of Sunday’s Spirit.

And here’s the thing: Chin-sun’s hare and hounds definitely have some hidden reason. Maybe the whole marriage thing that has become a gossip in the office is true. Which makes poor Eunwoo’s situation even worse.

“Sometimes I wonder why has he fallen in love with her in first place,” you whisper, pointing at the graphic designer. “He knows he stands no chance against Jimin.”

“What can I say, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Taehyung muses almost poetically, shrugging his shoulders.

You hum at that, placing your coffee cup on the table and looking around the cafeteria. It seems like Jimin has ended his reading session for today and now he invites everyone to join the discussion about the topic. He flashes Chin-sun a gentle smile and you could swear the girl is biting her lip.

On the corner of your eye you see Taehyung smirking.

“What?” you ask.

Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee lazily (it’s always caramel macchiato), peering at Jimin. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if our boss really wants to settle not only with Chin-sun, but anyone in general,” he says languidly.

You furrow your brows. “What makes you think that? I mean, look at him. He probably waits with sex till marriage.” you snort.

Taehyung chuckles at your words. “Ah, sweetheart, you really know nothing about Park Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

He moves closer to you, leaning towards your ear. “What I mean,” he whispers, “is that Park Jimin isn’t such a prude everyone thinks he is. At least he didn’t use to be.”

You raise your eyebrows at him with disbelief. “What? He’s secretly gay?” you mock.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I wish, but no, he isn’t,” he answers with a sigh. “Do you know Min Yoongi from emendation team?” he then asks, pointing at grey-haired man with feline eyes sitting behind Chin-sun.

You nodd your head. Min Yoongi is a hard to read guy. Always suspiciously silent, practically never leaves his office. Something makes you wonder how did Taehyung end up befriending him enough to casually gossip about the boss. You will ask him about this on another occasion.

“So here’s the thing,” Taehyung begins, lowering the volume of his voice. “He used to study at the same university in Seoul with Jimin. They even had been together in the fraternity. Yoongi-hyung told me some juicy details about our boss’ life back then.”

You frown at his words. “And you are telling me this now?!” you hiss.

“I found out literally two days ago!” Taehyung exclaims, maybe a little too loud, so you quickly place your index finger on your lips, shushing him.

“Fine. Continue.” you whisper, looking around to see if anyone pays attention to you.

“Well, Park Jimin used to be a trouble back then. A golden boy of his family in Busan, but a campus fuckboy and obnoxious heartbreaker in Seoul. He smoked cigarettes, drank enormous amounts of alcohol, got wasted on every weekend, missed classes and changed hair colors as often as his girlfriends. By the way, don’t you think he would slay pink hair?”

“Taehyung can you please–”

“Okay, okay. Enough thirsting over Jimesus. So, as you can see, there was no place for Sunday’s mass and Bible contemplation meetings in his life. And here’s the awaited plotwist. His parents somehow found out his son wasn’t living good catholic life on his studies and got extremely pissed off. They simply gave him an ultimatum: if he doesn’t stop his shenanigans, they will cut him off their money and they won’t make him Sunday’s Spirit heir.” Taehyung stops his rumbling for a while, letting you proceed all the bewildering informations about your dear boss he has just revealed.

Your eyes simply widen at the revelations.

Park Jimin, the man who organises Bible contemplation lunch breaks, a regular churchgoer, someone who you always thought has a cross tattooed on his back, was a playboy who slept with a half of the female community in the university?

Interesting.

“Rest of the story is simple. He changed his behavior, got a master degree in journalism and came back to Busan to work here. What is funny, his first position was the same as yours now,” Taehyung ends his story with a light chuckle. “Now you understand why it’s hard for me to believe he really thinks about getting married and having at least three kids.”

You look up at Park Jimin, who’s standing now in the centre of the cafeteria, with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding at one of the journalists words. His gaze is so intense and filled with such an authority that makes you understand why Chin-sun literally squirms when he looks at her that way.

It’s not hard for you to imagine him in much different surroundings.

Him, standing with a cup of beer in his hand in the middle of the crowd of drunken people at some frat party. There’s a leather jacket on his shoulders and he’s wearing tight-fitting pants that hugs his gorgeous thighs much better than his usual slacks he puts on every day before he sets off to work. He scans the room with a mishevious smirk dancing on his features, biting and licking his lips as he looks for his prey for tonight.

He then spots her, his pick for the night. He runs his fingers through his silky locks and approaches the girl, whispering dirty promises to her ear as he sways their bodies to the rhythm of loud music blasting through the speakers. Later that night he has her underneath him, begging him to touch her. He fucks her hard, leaving bruises all over her limp, exhausted body. There will be soreness between her thighs in the morning and a few violet love bites on her neck, a gentle reminder that all of this wasn’t just a dream.

But there’s no warm body next to her she could wake up to, no ‘good morning, baby’ or a second round of love making between the sheets. Because Park Jimin isn’t like that. He waited until her breath slowed down and eyelids fluttered shut, drifting her off to sleep. He left in the middle of the night, a cigarette caught between his swollen from kisses lips. He fumed the poison and smiled to himself, wondering what his parents would think when they found out. A golden boy of his family, future heir of the Park’s legacy, coming back from one of his sexcapeds with girl which name he didn’t even remember.

The Lord himself must have already cursed him and he’s currently planning the punishments for him in depths of Hell. But does Park Jimin look like he really care?

You stare blankly ahead, imagining those scenes in your head. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs because God, yes, Park Jimin is hot, even if he reads Breviary before he goes to sleep. What a shame he has changed. 

A smooth like honey voice pulls you out from your airy-fairy slumber.

“Miss Y/N?”

You jolt in panic after hearing your name, glancing around and praying that wasn’t the person you think it was. But this silky, melodious voice you would recognize everywhere.

God hates you though, he knows what kind of scandalous things you were daydreaming about and now it’s his time to punish you.

Looking up, your gaze settles on no one other than Park Jimin, who stares at you with his left eyebrow raised, pursing his lips. He extinguishes the aura of pure dominance around him and you involuntarily blush, squirming under his intense glare. You’re royally screwed.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down rapidly beating heart. Without success.

“Yes, sir?” you manage to answer innocently. Certainly not like you weren’t thinking about being fucked by him minutes ago. You don’t even have time to be surprised he remembers your name.

Park Jimin looks unamazed by your sweet tone; he almost seems bored, but definitely irritated. “I asked you a question and I’m waiting for your response.” he says lowly.

Fuckfuckfuck. God have mercy on you. What was the question? Shit, you don’t even know what fragment he had read before.

In act of complete desperation you elbow Taehyung for help but this little shit pretends he has no idea what’s going on, looking at The Last Supper with sudden interest.

You are purely, loyally, utterly fucked.

You adopt the most charming smile you could muster, knowing that it will have zero affect on Park Jimin and ask, “Could you repeat the question one more time, sir? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly.” Jesus, when has your voice become so high-pitched?

A cruel smirks forms on Park Jimin’s lips. He shakes his head, tsking. Taehyung mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart.” You gulp, waiting for your sentence and hoping Pontius Pilate will be gracious to you.

“My, my,” Jimin muses. It makes you feel like a little girl being scolded by the teacher due to her outrageous behavior. You bite your lip so hard you might draw blood, waiting for your boss’ next words. “Of course you didn’t hear my question, because you weren’t paying attention to our discussion.”

In the corner of your eye you see Chin-sun shaking her head with detestation. What a bitch, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath then, nails digging crescent moons on the skin of your palms. You don’t like being in the spotlight, you never did, but now you have no choice but face the consequences. “My deepest apologies, sir. The behavior I exhibited was highly inappropriate,” you say, bowing your head. Jimin eyes your figure from head to toe and you might actually feel his burning gaze on your skin. Your cheeks flush in crimson even more.

The editor-in-chief seems to deliberate with himself for a while, turning his head slightly to the side, not breaking the eye contact with you. Finally, after a moment that seems to last an hour, he speaks.

“I think you need a lesson that will teach you to pay attention to our weekly discussions, miss Y/N. That’s why I want you to write a 4000 words long paper about the role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christ’s life which we had discussed today but you, unfortunately, didn’t acknowledge it.”

You freeze. Like a scene in the movie, everything stops. The embarassement you felt earlier is quickly replaced by pure anger and irritation. He wants you to write a fucking paper? What is this? University lectures?

Never before in your entire life have you felt so humiliated. All eyes are on you; you could practically sense how they are trying not to laugh out loud. Eunwoo and Taehyung look at you with apologetic faces while Chin-sun smirks, whispering something to Jimin’s ear.

“I apologize once again, sir,” you grit through your teeth with a forced smile. Jimin nods then, not even bothering to look at you again. You’re dismissed, that’s what his behavior is saying.

“Our meeting is over, you can go back to your work.” Jimin announces and walks away from the cafeteria with Chin-sun by his side.

You wait for everyone to leave and the you let out a groan of annoyance, burring your head in your hands.

“Hey, it could have been worse. He didn’t fire you after all.” Taehyung laughs but he quickly shuts up as soon as he sees your glare. You stand up from your chair with a scowl written all over your face, and storm out of the lunchroom.

And may the God help you.

Later that unfortunate day, you sit by your desk again, scrolling through the Ask and you shall find page absentmindedly and waiting for the new asks to come. Everyone has returned to their work like nothing has happened but it doesn’t stop you from feeling all those eyes constantly on your back. Maybe you weren’t fired but the humiliation and embarrassment of being told off by your boss publicly makes you want to disappear and never show up at the editorial again.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at him and find the man smiling at you lightly. He’s wearing a long, camel coat and a big scarf around his neck with ridiculous patterns that reminds you of Persian diwans. He places his black camera bag on the desk, which means he’s leaving the office. “I’m free of office work for today so I just wanted to say goodbye.” he explains and you just nod.

“Bye, Taehyung. See you on Monday.” you say maybe a little bit to wryly and he feels that, letting out a long sigh.

Taehyung seems to deliberate with himself for a moment before he decides to speak again. He clears his throat audibly. “And I, uhm, I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you are in this situation. I started this conversation and I should be the one writing this stupid paper for Mister Prude.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the new nickname Taehyung gave Jimin. The anger you felt before drifts away from you slowly, and you smile at your friend apologetically. “Oh, God, Tae. I’m such a bitch sometimes, sorry,” you blurt out.”I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Besides, maybe that’s good I’ve got homework. I don’t remember when was the last time I wrote some-”

Your words are interrupted by a loud laugh that resonates through the office. You look in the direction of the voice just to see Chin-sun with her manicured hand on Jimin’s chest, throwing her head back from the laughter, too dramatically for your taste. She seems to have changed her clothes, a black pencil skirt long forgotten and replaced by a red, bodycon dress. Her dark hair is also styled differently, curled and loose. She looks beautiful, matching Jimin’s appearance perfectly.

“Where are they going?” Taehyung whispers to you, furrowing his brows. You shrug your shoulders, tearing your eyes of Chin-sun and Jimin. “Maybe our Mary Magdalene’s plan to win Jesus’ heart is working. Poor Eunwoo,” he sighs, looking at his watch to check the time. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have to drive all the way to some shithole near the city to take photos of an old lady who swears she saw saint Francis or other dude with halo speaking to her,” he grumbles and you giggle at his words. “Good luck with your paper, sweetheart.” he leans and places a small peck on your cheek.

“Bye, Tae.” you say, watching him leave the office right after Jimin and Chin-sun.

You let out a long, tired sigh, counting the time to leave the office and finally be back home, with a bottle of red wine and new season of Game of Thrones that are waiting for you to watch the whole week. Then, when you’re about to stand up and make yourself another coffee, a new ask pops up in your inbox with the title ‘Sex S.O.S’.

You raise your eyebrows because honestly, what kind of title is this? Curiosity wins the battle with a hot cup of an americano and you click the show more button. You put on your prescription glasses and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyfriend. And here’s where the actual problem begins. I’m from the catholic family with long traditions, and as you can guess, he isn’t.

We’ve been together for almost 2 years now and since my parents don’t want me to live with him before the marriage, there’s also no sexual life between us. I was actually surprised they agreed I can date a non-religious person in first place, so the rules weren’t that horrible at the beginning.

My boyfriend always seemed to be understanding about the fact that I’m catholic and he has never had issues against it because I stated this on the start of our relationship, but lately… he’s been distant. We meet up less often and I feel like simple kissing after 2 years isn’t enough for him. I even thought about initiating something that wouldn’t necessarily involve the real intercourse but I’m too inexperienced and shy for that. We are slowly drifting apart.

I don’t know what to do. I love him so much and I don’t want to lose him just because of some stupid rules I need to follow. I’m scared he will leave me for some other beautiful girl who wouldn’t have anything against sleeping with him, especially after considering the fact that he isn’t virgin unlike me and he experienced this kind of pleasure before.

I hope you will help me.

Yours faithfully,

Kang Seoyeon.

You blink once, twice. Read the message again and then, something snaps in you.

To Hell with these stupid, old-fashioned rules straight from the Middle Ages. To Hell with celibacy till marriage, masturbation prohibition and living according to God’s will. To Hell with Park Jimin and his ridiculous moral code (and his Bible contemplation lunchbreaks).

Unofficial eleventh commandment: If a girl wants a dick, she deserves to have it.

And that’s exactly what your response to the girl is in a nutshell.

Your blood boils in your veins with anger as you’re typing furiously on the keyboard, not even bothering to check if your sudden outburst makes any sense.

Dear Seoyeon,

It’s Y/N here, the journalist who you wrote this message to.

I don’t know what kind of response are you expecting from me but honestly? If you think I’m going to recommend you some praying to Saint Rita then you’re wrong. I’m done with this shit.

Let me make this straight: if you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy.

They are plenty of worse things in this world than having sex with the person you love. Look at me. I’m literally writing to catholic newspaper while using words like ‘God’ and ‘Fuck’ in the same sentence. And that’s not even a small piece of what I’ve done in my life.

So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this. You have my blessings and Jesus is giving you metaphysical thumbs up from above. Sex is amazing thing and you don’t have to wait for it until you say ‘yes’ in front of some guy in black cassock. Just go with the flow.

 May the God help you!

Love, Y/N.

P.S. Watch out that guy. He seems suspicious. If he’s been really sex deprived for two years he will die after you give him a head.

Sent.

You exhale loudly, staring at the screen. You did that. Six months into working in Sunday’s Spirit and the time when you lost your temper has finally come. You should probably feel ashamed or have some type of conscience pangs but actually you aren’t even near this state.

Grinning to yourself, you delete the message you had sent to the girl from your inbox and check the time. It’s almost 5pm and it looks like you haven’t even realised you’re the only person at the office right now. Since it’s Friday and Jimin has already left, seems like everyone has decided to set off earlier too.

You turn off your computer, packing your things to the bag. Wrapping a scarf around your neck tightly, you leave the building, welcoming the coolness of the early Spring evening in Busan.

When you’re about to cross the street, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your coat. You stop for a moment, smiling to yourself when you read the message.

[04:23pm] from Tae: hey

[04:23pm] from Tae: i know you are probably planning an evening with mary magdalene n jesus but

[04:23pm] from Tae: wouldnt u want to go for drinks with me tonight?

[04:23pm] from Tae: same place as usual

[04:24pm] from Tae: as a wise man once said: nothing helps better for the writer’s block than vodka

[04:24pm] from Tae: so what do u say?

You don’t need to think twice when you quickly type a response. Game of Thrones and wine can wait till another time.

[04:26pm] from me: how could i say no to kim taehyung and vodka?

[04:26pm] from me: see u there

Kim’s is a place like no one other in Busan.

You wouldn’t even know about its existence if it wasn’t Taehyung who took you there first when you started working at Sunday’s Spirit, solemnly promising free drinks. Who would you be if you didn’t agree to that?

When you arrived at the bar, it eventually turned out the alcohol was costless hence it’s his family business since over thirty years and his brother Namjoon is a bartender, not because Taehyung willingly decided to pay for you.

Kim’s is located in rather industrial part of the city, sandwiched between factories and huge housing estates, not looking really inviting at first glance, but the place has its own, unique charm. There are some stories, shrouding the building’s history in mystery. Some people say it used to be headquarters of the most dangerous mafia in Busan, some even believe it served as the secret arsenal during the Korean War.

But what’s definitely true, it’s the fact that Taehyung’s parents bought this place in swinging times of 80s for a small amount of money and turned the place into disco bar which had become a must-go spot for young people in Busan.

Kim’s on the outside, with its large red neon sign hanging above the entrance, looks more like a night club than a bar, but on the inside the magic of kitschy 80s still remains the same (Taehyung swears retro is in fashion these days and that’s why he didn’t let his parents redecorate when they wanted to).

You always feel like you’re traveling back in time when you visist Kim’s.

The place is quite big, with a large dancefloor in the middle and red leather sofas strewn around the place along with the tables. Walls are made of brick and colorful, vibrant neon lights are shimmering on them. Oh, not to mention the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Everything accompanied with the quality music provided by Namjoon.

There are few billiard and foosball tables in the corner of the bar, always occupied by the same group of middle-aged men on weekdays and university students on weekends. But the thing that attract attention of the customers the most, is the bar with Namjoon behind it.

When you enter the place, you spot Taehyung and his blond mop of hair immediately. He sits on one of the bar stools, talking to his older brother. He’s wearing beige pants and floral button-up shirt that seems to match colors with his pinkish-looking drink he holds. You notice a new pair of sapphire earrings and a huge ring from the same collection on his forefinger. Classy, as always.

Taehyung grins broadly when he sees you. He puts his drink on the counter and stands up to greet you. His breath smells like strawberries and vodka when he leans to place his usual, small peck on your cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says with his signature smirk plastered on his face, scanning your figure. “You look gorgeous. Last time you did this kind of make-up you wanted to get laid.”

You rolls your eyes at his words, sitting on a stool next to him. “Hi, Taehyung. Thank you for appreciating my efforts to look like a decent human being but no, I’m not planning on getting laid tonight.” you answer, waving to Namjoon who makes drinks for a group of girls a few meters from you. He smiles bashfully at you, showing his dimples.

“I’m not saying you want a fuck, calm down. I just assumed since it’s not everyday that you put eyeliner on,” Taehyung explains himself. “So let me do that again,” He takes a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. “Y/N, you look absolutely breathtaking. I could stare at you for hours and I wouldn’t mind that even a bit. My homosexuality is at risk right now.”

You ignore his exeggarated outburst, rolling your eyes. “I’m not using eyeliner everyday because there’s something called dresscode in our work, you know?” you say. “Besides, my mum says you should look good on every occasion because you don’t know when you will meet the love of your life.”

Taehyung puts a hand on his heart and sighs with relief. “Thank God I always look good.”

You chuckle and then your eyes wander for a moment to Namjoon, who seems busy listening to whatever the pink-haired girl is telling him with polite smile on his face.

“Here,” Taehyung nudges your side, bringing your attention back to him. He hands you the same pinkish drink as he was drinking when you arrived. “Hyung told me it’s their new specialty or something. It’s called Flamingo’s Beach,” he says and you take the glass in your hand. “I have no idea what Namjoonie-hyung put here but as long as it looks good, it’s good. Cheers!” Taehyung sips his one and watches you with raised eyebrows as you’re taking a generous gulp of the drink. “And…?” he asks.

You lick your lips, humming to yourself. “Not bad. Tastes like strawberries.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but he gets interrupted by his brother. “Y/N, hi. How are you?” Namjoon approaches you with two beer mugs in his hands.

His hair is back to his natural brown color now, purple strands long forgotten since the last time you saw him. It looks like he’s been working out lately, his posture more bulky and it makes his black shirt stick to his body tightly. Namjoon’s good-looking, you always knew that, but he seems to be even more handsome now.

“Hey, I’ve been good, thank you,” you greet him with maybe too much enthusiasm for your liking. You always had a weak spot for him. “How’s the bar going?” you ask.

“Busy, as you can see,” he replies, chuckling to himself. “I would love to talk to you more but I have some work to do in back room, so…” Namjoon trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“Oh, it’s okay. We can catch up another time.” You smile at him and you could swear his cheeks flushed.

“I’ll be going. See you.” Namjoon stammers out, not even waiting for your response before he disappears from your sight.

The pregnant silence sets in between you and Taehyung, something heavy hangs in the air and you feel it, tapping your fingers on the counter to the rhythm of one of the ABBA songs, waiting impatiently.

Taehyung looks like he’s debating with himself in his head. You narrow your eyes. He’s adopted a face you know pretty well, too well even. He looks everywhere but keep avoiding your gaze. He wants to ask you something, you’re sure of it, but he doesn’t know how.

Finally, after a moment of awkward quietness, Taehyung finally opens his mouth. “So, here’s the thing,” he starts and you wait for the bomb to drop.

Last time when he approached you like that, he asked you if you would be down for a threesome with him and some guy he met on Tinder. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his blunt proposition. You were eating lunch at cafeteria and the words casually slipped from between his lips as he chewed on his egg sandwich, like he didn’t just propose you having sex with him and instead asked for a lift to home after work.

Taehyung begged you for a whole week, pleading and convincing it’ll be fun. When you eventually agreed (sex draught make people do stupid things), the other guy didn’t show up. You ended up drinking tequila shots with Taehyung that night in his apartment, and you can’t quite recall how it happened, but somehow you found yourself unzipping your friend’s pants and the rest is history. He passed out right after he came. Now when you think about it, you feel a sudden urge to ask him if he remembers that.

You will do it next time, you promise yourself.

Taehyung though doesn’t ask you about having a threesome or robbing Park Jimin’s house this time. His intentions are pretty much different.

“See, Namjoon split up with his girlfriend few weeks ago,” he says and you prick your ears. “He’s not in good condition right now, as you can see. It was a nasty break up, he found out she’s been cheating on him,” He lets out a long sigh. You bite your lip, imagining Namjoon’s disappointed face when he discovered the truth. What a bitch cheats on someone like him? “So, I thought maybe you could… cheer him up a little bit?” Taehyung ends hesitantly, with a glint of hope in his eyes.

You frown. Cheer him up? Did he just imply what you think about?

“Look, I get it, he’s sad and angry, but what the fuck, Taehyung? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be his rebound? Make him forget?” you exclaim. Taehyung quickly shakes his head but you don’t let him say anything. “I feel sorry for Namjoon but I’m not going to take advantage of him when he’s literally still hurt.”

“No, it’s not like that!” Taehyung rushes to explain. “Well, maybe it sounded like that but I swear, I didn’t mean that!”

“Then what should I do? Wipe his tears? Tell him a joke? Or maybe-”

“Of course he wants you to suck his brother’s heartbroken dick, doll.”

A sudden, low voice interrupts your conversation. Your eyes follow the direction when it comes from, looking to Taehyung’s left where not even a meter away a very familiar grey-haired man with feline eyes sits.

“Min Yoongi,” you say matter-of-factly.

The leader of emendation team from Sunday’s Spirit editorial raises his hand in which he holds whiskey, greeting you and Taehyung. “Hello, doll. Hello, Taehyung,” he says, not even bothering to look at you.

You elbow Taehyung searching for explanation but he shrugs his shoulders, turning to face the man as well.

“First of all, since when do you call me ‘doll’? We have never spoken a word to each other. Secondly, how long have you been sitting here and listening?” you ask Yoongi.

He snorts, smirking. “Long enough to know how Taehyung comforts his brother after break up.” he simply answers and Taehyung’s cheeks blush in crimson at his words.

“You come here often? I’ve never seen you here before,” you continue, crossing your arms over chest.

Next to you Taehyung lets out a sigh. “Yes, he does. Albeit I haven’t seen him for a while here,” You look at him in confusion. “Yoongi-hyung is Namjoonie-hyung close friend from university days.” he clarifies.

You raise your eyebrows at that. “So Namjoon went to the same school as Park Jimin?”

“Not the same. We met under different circumstances.” Yoongi cuts in.

“They’ve been together in underground rap group, or some shit. Didn’t like each other at first but eventually stuck together till the end of studies.” Taehyung ends and grey-haired man nods.

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“What’s funny in that?” Yoongi scowls.

“Nothing. I just imagined you and Namjoon in snapbacks, rapping about the unfairness of social hierarchy,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, you may believe me or not, but we even made a mixtape.” Yoongi reveals proudly, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Your eyes widen in curiosity. “Then what happened? Why aren’t you in Seoul now, still producing music? Why do you work in this stupid newspaper and Namjoon’s a bartender?” you ask interrogatively.

“Life happened, doll. We didn’t have enough money to publish our works so we decided to quit it.”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

You could see the nostalgia written across Yoongi’s face. You feel sorry for him, for Namjoon. Everything is always about the money. That’s why you’re working in Sunday’s Spirit even though it was never your dream in first place. Even though you have much higher ambitions than being Ask and you shall find column author.

Ever since you were little, you loved writing. You never complained, not even once, when your teachers in school assigned you to write something. They kept saying you have an extraordinary talent and it would be a shame if you didn’t do anything with that.

During your high school years, you were the leader of school newspaper’s team, still writing your own works every time you didn’t have something different to do. After that, you got to the university in Seoul, your another dream came true. You got a master degree, an apprenticeship in the Korean version of highly popular, world-widely known magazine. And then, nothing. No job applications available. No newspapers or publishing companies wanting you, dismissing you right away because they didn’t have any vacant places.

This is how Sunday’s Spirit, even if that’s not your dream job, happened. And quite literally saved your ass.

“I’m sorry.” you say after a while.

Yoongi smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be. What’s in past, stays in past.” he ends the conversation, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

You find this as a perfect possibility to do what you’ve come here for: get wasted, forget about this prick Park Jimin and his stupid assignment. You turn around on your stool to face the bar again, calling for the red-haired bartender named Hoseok who’s substituting Namjoon right now. You order a round of tequilla shots and quickly pours two of them in one go.

“Easy, tiger,” Taehyung teases, still sipping his pink drink as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. Taehyung has stated a long time ago that he enjoys only casual drinking, which makes you and you lightweightness snort at him.

“Loser,” you mumble under your breath, deep down knowing you’re oh so much going to regret this after.

You focus your attention on the dancefloor now; technicolor lights glittering as the crowd of sweaty people bounce to old Madonna hits. You feel like your spirit might actually experience new kind of awakening during the chorus in Like a Virgin. You mouth the lyrics, the vodka already half-way to your bopping head. Your drunken self almost asks Taehyung and Yoongi if they would agree to be your backup dancers.

You eyes scan the room carefully and then, you spot him. He’s sitting in the corner, his arms splayed over the backrest of the red couch. A devil himself. A black horseman of the Apocalypse. A man who looks like every girl’s next mistake. Taylor Swift’s ‘we are never ever getting back together’.

A true sin.

Jet-black hair parted in the middle, onyx eyes and lucious smirk written across his lips as he bites them purposefully. He’s wearing a leather jacket and you wonder for a while if you would find inked tattoos on his body. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glued to the same spot as he waits for something, or rather someone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, not even hiding your curiosity at this point.

Taehyung turns around as well, his eyes glancing to the dark-haired man briefly. “Ah, this, sweetheart, is Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin’s best friend.” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You raise your eyebrows, watching as Jungkook’s face expression immediately changes when waitress approaches him. He says something to her that makes her roll her eyes. She tightens her grip around the tray she’s holding, asking him for his order.

“Don’t worry. You are not the only one thirsting over him. I would let him top me too,” Taehyung whispers to your ear and you flinch.

“I’m not thirsting over him! I came her for drinks, not to get laid, I told you.”

“Okay, okay, loosen up a little. Tequilla makes you aggressive. Besides, it looks like he’s got his pick for tonight.”

Jungkook stretches out his hand and fixes the waitress’ glasses that seem to rode down her nose a little. The girl frozes in place because of his action and he grins, calling her cute.

“He’s trying to ask her out for two months,” Yoongi interrupts suddenly, again. It looks like he has nothing better to do tonight. “I’m serious. He’s here every Friday. Normally, he would have given up after the second time she had rejected him but there’s might be something in this girl that makes his dick hard and his heart soft.”

Jungkook’s eyes girl’s body as she bends to pick up the glasses from other tables and maybe that’s the alcohol swimming in your veins but you could swear his face lights up when she sends him another irritated glare when he calls her name.

“Does Park Jimin comes here often as well?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

Both Taehyung and Yoongi shake their heads.

“I don’t think so. Jeon comes here because he lives nearby in this huge ass apartment complex. His father runs a chemical factory and he works there.” Taehyung explains.

Jeon? Chemical factory? Something clicks in your brain. Right, you know who his father is. The King of Washing Powder. Another rich as fuck Busan’s snob.

“God, I hate him. I fucking hate him. What a prick. Douchebag. Asshole of the century,” The string of profanities leaves poor waitress’ mouth as she walks to the counter with tray in her hands. “How’s your day, love? You look beautiful today, love. Fucking leave me alone, love!” she mutters to herself, taking the beer mugs from Hoseok abruptly which makes the bartender raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“How’s your assignment about Mary Magdalene going on, doll?” Yoongi asks then, startling you.

You roll your eyes at him. “I literally got it today, Yoongi. I haven’t started yet.” you answer, gulping another shot.

On the corner of your eye you see Yoongi’s smirking. “I’m surprised, to be honest. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t pay attention to shit Jimin’s says,” he trails off. “I work for him from the moment he started this ridiculous Bible lunch breaks and I swear, he’s never called out someone like that before.”

“What do you mean he’s never called out someone before?” Taehyung joins in curiously.

“Look, I slept through the majority of these sessions and Jimin knows it, but he has never lecture me about it,” Yoongi remarks. “Maybe you’re an exception. Or he’s become more strict because of this bitch Chin-sun.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You know Chin-sun has been making heart eyes for Jimin for a long time but what why it might have an influence on his behavior?

“Lee Chin-sun? What the office’s Mary Magdalene has to do with that? Besides the fact that she’s drooling for his dick every time she sees him,” Taehyung snorts.

Yoongi chuckles lowly. “Oh, so you two really know nothing about what’s going on between them right now,”

“What’s going on right now? Spill.” Taehyung says abruptly. You sigh when you see the way his eyes flicker with mischeviousness. One thing Taehyung loves more than photography and fashion is gossiping (and dicks).

“First of all, Chin-sun is a fucking bigot. And well… she might be closer to being miss Park than we thought.” Yoongi muses.

Taehyung eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline. You’re sure you mirror his expression right now.

Yoongi asks Hoseok for another glass of whiskey and continues. “My friend Seokjin’s wife is Jimin’s personal assistant and secretary. She heard this and that, quite juicy things I must say,” he says in a lower tone, like he’s revealing government secrets to them. You lean closer into his direction along with Taehyung. “Chin-sun’s father recently bought the claims to the most popular, conservative TV station in whole South Korea. But, what is more interesting, it looks like Park senior has some shares in it as well.”

You’re astonished. You knew there’s something looming in the air but you didn’t expect this. A TV station? Even your slightly drunken brain can calculate it’s very interesting.

“So the marriage between Chin-sun and Jimin would be pretty convenient for their families, especially after considering the fact that Jimin is the heir.” Yoongi adds, gulping the first sip of his new whiskey.

“Poor Eunwoo,” you whisper to yourself.

“But why so soon? Why do they want to legalize their relationship so suddenly?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. “There’s a rumour going around that Jimin’s father isn’t in good condition right now. Seokjin-hyung mentioned something about the heart disease. So, if that’s really true, you have the answer why he wants his eldest son to settle down already. Everything’s about the money, I told you.”

Taehyung whistles. “Woah, so Mary Magdalene is really about to be CEO Jesus’ wife soon!” he exclaims, clapping his hands. “Brilliant. Finally something spicy is happening in this boring editorial.”

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if I were you, Taehyung. This kind of business never ends well,” Yoongi says coldly, placing his glass on the counter and standing up from the stool. He glances at his watch and throws a few bills next to his empty glass. “I’ll get going. It was nice talking to you, doll.”

“What about me?”

“Shut up, Taehyung, you’re not pretty lady.”

“I feel offended.”

“And I don’t care,” Yoongi mutters. Maybe that was alcohol swimming in her veins but you saw Taehyung lifting the corners of his lips in amusement. Weird. “Good luck on your assignment, doll. See you all on Monday.” Yoongi glances to your way one last time, adjusting his jacket.

“Bye, Yoongi.” you wave to him and a small, even sincere smile appears on his face when he as well raises his hand lazily and leaves. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s actually nice, Tae? I was always too scared to start a conversation with him because I felt intimidated.” you say after a while.

“I’m sorry, should have I set you up for a date with him?” Taehyung mocks.

A groan escapes your lips. “Could you please stop insinuating things?”

“You need to get laid, seriously. Like soon-soon. You get easily irritated recently. You need a d i c k,”

“I don’t need a dick!”

“A cock, Y/N,” Taehyung emphasizes. “A penis in your precious vagina.”

“Shut up!”

Several shots and a few drunken dances to Cindi Lauper and Bon Jovi, you’re pretty much wasted. And maybe, just maybe, you need a dick. And Taehyung, like a dipshit he always is, thinks that’s actually funny.

“Don’t wanna homff,” you slur, supporting your weight on Taehyung’s arm that shakes with laughter at your drunken antics, as well as his whole body. “I wanna danfce witfh somebodyyy,”

“Holy Mother of Jesus, you must be really drunk if you started referring to Whitney Houston’s songs. And you smell like booze,” Taehyung mutters under his breath and you whine, tugging on his arm.

“TaeTae, Taehyungie, pffleasee, can we go back?”

Taehyung ignores your grumbling completely. He exists the bar, walking (or rather dragging) you to the cab. As he tries to push your body to the car, he sees in the corner of his eye Jeon Jungkook, standing in front of his black SUV. The waitress from earlier accompanies him as well. It looks like he’s trying to convince her to let him give her a lift to home. The girl shakes her head at first but eventually gives up, stepping into the car. Jungkook grins to himself then, clenching his fists in gesture of pure triumph.

“I fuckin’ hate Park Jimin and his stfupid newspaper,” you mutter incoherently as you bury your head in the crook of Taehyung’s neck in the back of the cab. Old, korean songs are playing in the radio when you’re driving back home. Taehyung smiles to himself, hearing your light snores. But then, he falters.

Ah, yes, he almost forgot. It is going to be a long way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Next day, you wake up in the middle of noon with raging headache and an abrupt need to throw everything up. Frankly speaking, you had worse hangovers during you university days but it doesn’t change the fact that the state you’re currently in still sucks.

“Oh, good God, what have I thought?” you mutter to yourself while standing in the shower, letting the water cool you down.

Truth to be told, a drinking escapade when you have a whole ass paper to write in two days wasn’t the smartest idea you could come up with. You know that for sure, when you’re sitting down in front of your laptop with prescription glasses on your face and a cup of tea in your hand.

There’s a blank document opened on the screen, with only your name written in the corner and the title in the middle. You feel pathetic and useless, staring at it for 30 minutes straight. If you keep sitting like this, you might actually call Park Jimin right now and beg him not to fire you due to your incompetence.

“Get your shit together, Y/N.” you say to yourself, clenching your fists.

At first you fought about making some mind-map, outlining the most important parts of your essay, as you always used to do when you were studying. But there’s a huge difference between what you’re working on right now and what you usually did during academic days. Above all, at that time you were writing about things you had more knowledge about, not about Mary Magdalene and her role in Jesus Christ’s life.

“Ah, fuck it.”

You open an online Bible page and quickly type ‘Mary Magdalene’ in browser. All fragments when she’s mentioned shows up in front of your eyes. You fix your glasses and before you could stop yourself, you whisper, “Let’s get it.”

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started reading, but when you glance a the clock it’s nearly 7pm.

You went through every single page in the Bible when Mary Magdalene appears or when for some reason her name comes up in conversations. You read two thesis in which you found quite interesting facts about the heroine of your work. Also, you watched some conspiracy theories on YouTube about her, in which people claim that she was actually Jesus’ wife. You were bewildered, even in your post-hangover state.

And after all of this researching, you have settled a plan. You’re a journalist for God’s sake, you’ve been writing your entire life and none assignment will break you. So you start typing on the keyboard, filling the blank document pages with words, hoping that Park Jimin will approve your efforts.

On Sunday, you look like a ghost.

You’re a mess, cured from hangover but still in bad shape, especially after spending the whole night writing in front of your laptop. There are bangs under your eyes and you hair looks like you could cosplay a scarecrow. Your eyes are sore from staring to the screen for so long and you feel like you might collapse anytime if you won’t drink coffee in five minutes.

In between writing next paragraphs, you answer a call from Taehyung.

“How’s your assignment going, sweetheart?”

You let out a long, exhausted sigh. “It’s fine, I guess.” you respond to him.

“That’s lovely! I knew you would slay this, babe,” you hear him saying.

“I’m not done yet, Tae. I still have like a half to write,” you mumble and then let out a yawn, closing your eyes for a brief second before you speak again. “I would love to talk to you more but I really need to get this shit done as soon as I can, so I could have some decent sleep before Monday. I don’t want to look like an old witch when I hand in the paper to Park Jimin.”

“I know, I know. You got this, sweetheart. I’m sure you will make Mister Prude’s dick hard because of this.” Taehyung assures you.

You crack a tired smile even though you know he doesn’t see you. “Thank you, Tae.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” he says and hangs up.

You take another gulp of your coffee and start writing again.

It’s a little past midnight when you’re, with your last amounts of force you posses, typing the last words of the paper. As you look at your laptop screen, eyelids half-closed, you dream about nothing but going to sleep.

You did that. You really did. You wrote this stupid paper for Park Jimin and you’re actually proud of it. You carefully save the document three times (to be hundred percent sure) and as soon as you close your laptop, you pass out.

Little did you know what is waiting for you in editorial in a few hours.

You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You won’t say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. You’re wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.

And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sunday’s Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jimin’s hands, his secretary with polite smile said he’s coming to work later today.

You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (you’re actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your boss’ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.

“I changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,” you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. “I focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesus’s side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,” you explain.

“Wow,” Taehyung muses. “You turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.”

“It’s not like that!” You hit him in the arm. “You may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.”

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I don’t know what he thinks about my essay.” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably having an epiphany right now while-”

A voice from the speakers that certainly doesn’t sound like gospel choir interrupts him.

“Miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.”

“-or he isn’t.” Taehyung ends.

Once again, you’re frozen in place. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didn’t like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?

“Holy fuck.” you blurt out quietly.

Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesn’t look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their boss’ office, he just doesn’t say it aloud. “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,” he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.

“I repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.” Jimin’s stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.

“Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sunday’s Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.

You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.

 Park Jimin

 Editor-in-chief

You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lion’s den.

The atmosphere seems to shift when you walk into the room. You could hear your heart rapidly beating through the dead silence that lingers in Park Jimin’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you ask after closing the door, subconsciously cursing yourself for sounding so weak already.

“Yes, have a seat,” Jimin says. “Give me a second. I need to finish something.” he adds when you sit down, not even bothering to spare you a look.

Jimin sits behind his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, his jaw clenched. Oh, great, he looks pissed, you think to yourself.

He isn’t wearing his suit jacket like usually, which surprises you. His white shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, revealing a glimpse of veiny hands and his Rolex. This is the first time you see him like this. He looks so… unlike him.

Strange.

You use the time you have to take in your surroundings. Jimin’s office is painted in fair tone of grey. The rumors were actually right, there’s a smaller version of Michelangelo’s Pietà standing proudly on of the drawers. Behind the desk, on the wall, hangs a wooden cross with gold-plated figurine of Jesus Christ, and just underneath it there’s a framed picture of Lady of Fatima, which he once proudly showed to the whole editorial team on one of the lunchbreaks, saying his grandmother brought him this from her pilgrimage.

You focus your attention now on the wall filled with numerous diplomas and certificates, all of them signed with Park Jimin’s name.

You had read some of his works before you started your job in Sunday’s Spirit and you must admit: Park Jimin is a talented, smart journalist you aspire to be one day. It’s actually sad, you think, that he can’t pursue his career, wasting his abilities by working in catholic newspaper owned by his father. And as you know from Yoongi, his situation isn’t going to change soon. Maybe he was right after all. Money really does rule this world.

After a few minutes that seems to last forever, Jimin breaks the silence. “Do you know why are you here?” he asks, finally averting his attention to you. He stares so deeply into your eyes that you feel you might faint from the intensity of his aura.

You clear your throat, and then respond. “I do believe it’s about my paper I handed in to you this morning.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow at that. “Your paper? No, everything’s fine about it. I read it and I must say, you did a great job,” he says and you furrow your eyebrows. So if nothing’s is wrong with your essay then what does he want?

“Then… why did you call me in, sir?” you hesitantly ponder.

Jimin laces his fingers together and leans closer over the desk. “Well,” he begins, “Maybe you forgot or you really didn’t know about it, but I used to run the same column as you do now,” You nod your head, recalling what Taehyung told you recently. Jimin continues, “I was actually the one who created it. That means I am still, for this day, its administrator. Which leads to another conclusion: every single ask that is send to our editorial and your responses to them can be monitored by me.” he explains, gauging your reaction. You still don’t have an idea why is he telling you that, so you just sit still and wait.

Then, Jimin reaches for the paper that lays on the left side of his desk and hands it to you. “Could you please tell me what is this?” he asks, pointing at the paper.

You glance at it briefly. “These are the questions I got last week and my responses to them.” you reply straightaway.

Park Jimin doesn’t seem much satisfied after hearing your words. He then takes another paper and gives it to you as well. “And this particular one, Y/N? Could you please read it and tell me what is this?”

Ignoring his forego of ‘miss’, you take it to your hands and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyf-

You gasp and immadietly put a palm over your mouth. Under Seoyeon’s ask there’s also, clear as day, your much inappropriate response to her. In which you persuade the girl to suck her boyfriend off.

Holy fuck. Jesus Christ. Shitshitshit!

Jimin said he monitors everything that people send to the editorial along with the responds. Of course he had to read it. Why have you been so dumb? How could you believe that simple deleting from your inbox would be enough? Why can’t you do something properly for once?

You gulp, trying not to cry because good God, he’s going to fire you. He will kick you out and write a bunch of negative letters to your future employees, in which he will explain in details how disobiedent, reckless of a worker you are.

“Did you also forget how to speak?” Jimin asks. You almost cry out right away from the coldness of his voice.

You muster up a courage and look at him, and that’s a huge mistake because as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re lost for words.”I-I don’t know what to say, sir,” you stammer out. “I have nothing for my defence. I can only apologize for my irresponsible and inappropriate behavior I exhibited.” you say, bowing your head down.

Jimin pursues his lips. He stands from his chair and walks to you, leaning his body on the desk. He takes the paper from you to his hands and starts reading. “If you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy,“ he quotes your response to the girl and your cheeks flush in red; you wish nothing more than to disappear and never see your boss again. But he’s relentless and continues reading, spilling the crude words, humiliating you even more. “So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this.“ Jimin chuckles to himself darkly and you shut your eyes. “Look at me when you are spoken to,” he demands. You quickly oblige, lifting your chin a little to meet his intense gaze. “Is that really how a good, catholic girl should act?” he asks in a mocking tone.

You shake your head. “No, it isn’t.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Do you think he really won’t leave her after this?” he asks out of the blue.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of twisted game is he playing now? “I don’t know, sir.” you answer honestly.

Jimin smirks. Devilishly, sultry and completely illegal. He then licks his lips and leans closer to you. You could swear his eyes are darken than before. Something has shifted in his demeanor; he looks daring. “Why don’t you show me then, how this poor girl should suck her boyfriend off, Y/N?” he whispers lowly.

Your eyes widen. Did he just-?

He didn’t. He can’t. Maybe you misheard him, maybe you started imagining things that aren’t real. Oh, sweet Lord, the look of absolute seriousness written on his face tells you very much different.

Park Jimin, your boss, the man who goes regularly on masses and reads Bible, wants you to give him a head. In his office.

May the God help you.

You should probably slap him in the face for his immoral proposition. You should save your dignity, leave and never come back again. But then, you clear your mind from all those twisted thoughts running through it and you realise that you’re walking on a very thin line. Line which is called unemployment and bankruptcy.

You think about your landlord who praised you recently for keeping up with rent every month regularly. You think about your student loans that you still need to pay.

And fuck, you hate Yoongi because he was damn right. Money wouldn’t buy you happiness, but it can provide you that.

That’s why you put away the humiliation, the what ifs. You shut your mind screaming at you and listing the future consequences. Maybe Jimin just tests you, but the way he looks at you denies it. He wants to see you on your knees in front of him. Perhaps he only wants to play before he fires you but you put that thought aside.

You at least need to try.

Jimin searches for any kind of protest in your eyes and when he doesn’t find it, he’s back to his domineering self. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, his voice an octave lower. “Get on your knees.”

He has a calm expression on his face and you wonder for a moment how many times has he been in similar situation before. Having a woman on his mercy and using her the way he likes. And now you know. All those stories you heard about, are actually true. Park Jimin isn’t a prude. He’s dirty.

You fall to the floor with a light whimper. Maybe it’s the last chance for you to leave, but the confidence that emanates from Jimin doesn’t falter your movements. You hate yourself for that but God, you want to see this man being a mess for your touch. Even if that’s fucked up.

And it’s wrong, so, so wrong, when there’s a cross hanging behind you, when he’s your boss who claims to be a good catholic, when you do that because you’re too afraid to lose your job. But in that moment, the morality doesn’t exist.

Jimin stands up to take his belt off, looking at you from the above as he slowly, purposefully pulls it from the belt loops. He doesn’t encourage you or say anything, he just waits. You gulp when he yanks his black slacks down, along with his underwear.

For a few, solid seconds, you just stare.

You aren’t a connoisseur of dicks. Dick is a dick, but Park Jimin’s length is just as perfect as the rest of him, semi-hard against his lower stomach. Your hands move to his sculpted thighs, running up and down, tracing the prominent lines of his toned abdomen. The muscles tense underneath your touch.

You don’t remember when was the last time you’ve gone down on someone. Maybe it was Taehyung few months ago when you were both too drunk to care? You can’t quite recall. Every move of yours is uncertain, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Maybe your uncertainty turns him on even more.

He watches as you take him in your palm hesitantly, hot and already stiff, stroking him several times until he hardens in your hand. The sight is purely erotic, filthy, and you lick your lips before placing a light kiss on his tip. Jimin hisses. That’s a warning. No teasing.

You pump him, trailing a thumb over his slit, spreading precum all over his cock. Jimin doesn’t say anything but from the shuddering breath he lets out you assume he likes it. You take a deep breath, wrapping your lips around his dick and swirling your tongue around the head.

Jimin groans, a guttural sound resonating through his whole body and you take it as a sign to continue. You ease more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down around his length obediently. Some twisted and fucked-up part of you wants him to praise you, call you good girl with your lips around his dick and throbbing core. He does none of that. His hands tangle in your hair as he withdraws, and you know exactly what’s coming next.

It’s an unspoken question on his lips and your jaw falls slacks on command.

A forceful push of his hips and he’s burried deep inside your mouth till he hits the back of your throat. Tears brim in your eyes and you gag, breathing heavily through your nose. It hurts a little, a dull ache but the content sigh and fucked-out expression on Jimin’s face is worth it. So you let him fuck your mouth the way he wants, let him pull your hair harder, wreck you a little more. It’s so easy to submit to him, to let him overwhelm you in every sense possible.

Your eyes fall shut and Jimin stops his movements, pulling from your mouth. Drool dribbles down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. Jimin lets out a shaky breath, staring down at you so intensely it makes your insides tighten, even if you don’t see him yet.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you do, how could you not. The sight of your boss’ flushed cheeks and sweat forming on his forehead will be imprinted in your mind forever.

You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck you senseless right against his deck, with a hand around your throat muffling your screams, fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name anymore, no matter how wrong it is.

“Good girl. You’re so pretty like this, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jimin nothing but purrs, filling you to the brim again, until there are tears forming in your eyes and running down your cheeks, until he hits the base of your throat again and again and you fight back choked gags every time. “Just like that, fuck-” he moans, lowly and beautifully, head thrown back and mouth parted.

He’s close, you could feel that, so you take him deep once again and when your throat tightens around him one last time, he lets out a gutural groan and comes. You swallow every drop of his bitter release and when he pulls out from your mouth, you nearly fall forward.

Jimin catches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, balancing your exhausted body. You look at him through your half-lidded eyes. He looks so young now, so innocent, his cold demeanor’s gone and replaced by pure bliss written on his face. For Park Jimin, cheeks rosy, disheveled hair and loosen tie, you would do it all over again.

He then does something unexpected. He reaches for your face, brushing your tangled hair away and placing the strands behind your ears. This is a loving gesture, something exclusive he definitely shouldn’t be doing. You’re frozen, you can’t move a muscle while he wipes your cheeks from the reminiscences of your tears. He trails his thumb over your swollen lips absentmindedly, faltering there. For a moment he looks like he might say something, but he quickly shuts his mouth, regaining his previous posture.

You take this as a sign to leave. You get up from the floor, your knees sore from the uncomfortable position you’ve been in. You walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall of Jimin’s office. You sigh, seeing your current state. There’s no way someone would believe you that you haven’t just sucked a dick.

Your cheeks are flushed in pink, there are smudges of mascara under your eyes and your lipstick is smeared in the corners of your mouth. Not to mention your hair is still a mess.

You are painted in all shades of wrong.

In the reflection of the mirror you see Jimin buckling up his belt and straightening his tie. He runs a hand through his blond locks and looks up, catching you staring at him. You quickly look away.

“Don’t worry. No one will notice anything. Everyone should be off for their lunchbreaks by now.” he says. He sounds so pathetically normal, yet there’s still a slight rasp in his voice.

You glance at the watch on your hand and check the time. It’s a little past 12. You brush your hair with your fingers quickly and proceed to leave, but you stop, remembering you have to ask about one last thing. You turn around to face him.

“Are you going to write a bad opinion about me to my future employees?” you ask, flinching at the hoarseness of your voice.

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Bad opinion? No, absolutely not,” he answers, shaking his head. “I was never going to fire you in first place.”

You fight back the shocked expression that threatens to appear on your face. You quickly rush to leave this damn office and never look in his eyes ever again. What were you even thinking?

“And Y/N,” Jimin’s voice makes you stop with your hand hovering over the door knob. Single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp. “I’m sorry.” it’s all he says.

You don’t ask him what he meant by that. You don’t deliberate if he was sincere or not. You leave the office as soon as you can, running to the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning on it.

He wasn’t going to fire you. He just wanted to use you, demand to get down on your knees and please him the way he wants. It was all a game for him, and you became his plaything.

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, burying your head in your hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

You feel sick, used, but at the same time you can’t get away with creeping feeling that you enjoyed it, wishing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him in that moment.

You sigh, closing your eyes. You’re probably foolish for thinking it won’t have any consequences. You’re just about to face them.

The coldness of early Spring hits you when you exit Sunday’s Spirit editorial. You hug your body tighter with your coat, standing in front of the building awkwardly. You take a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind, but nothing really works. There’s a vacant space inside your body, like your soul has drifted away and left nothing but emptiness.

You feel hollow.

You don’t know how long have you been standing there, inhaling fresh air and waiting for your blood to start circulating properly in your veins again. When you’re about to head to the underground station, on the corner of your eye you see Jimin’s black Mercedes. You probably shouldn’t stare but you helplessly do.

Probably if you didn’t, it would hurt less.

He approaches the car, looking perfectly fine as always, which you couldn’t say about yourself. And he isn’t alone.

You recognize dark curls of Chins-sun’s hair, contrasting her beige coat beautifully. The corners of Jimin’s lips lift when he sees her. You don’t know if it’s a honest smile or a forced one. You wonder for a while how does he look like when he’s truly happy. Maybe he’s happy now, when Chin-sun is by his side.

What you are really sure about Park Jimin, is that he’s a man of many maybes.

Something which definitely doesn’t look forced are his palms, cupping the cheeks of Chin-sun’s flushed face. He starts tracing circles on her skin in intimate gesture and murmurs something. Maybe he asks her how was her day. Your lips still tingle where he trailed his thumb over it bitten, swollen surface. Maybe he still remembers how they felt around his cock when he was relentlessly bringing tears to your eyes and stabs to your heart.

The way he leans and kisses Chin-sun’s cherry colored lips is purposeful, perfectly measured. Maybe he sighs into her mouth with content, a beautiful sound you have witnessed with your own ears, as you were working him to his climax. Jimin’s hands grip Chin-sun’s dark locks but it isn’t the similar manner he did to you earlier, as he laced his fingers through the strands, when you wished him to do nothing more than pull harder and harder, until the pain in you scalp was replaced by dull ache, until a whimper fell from your lips and eyes squeezed shut. He kisses Chin-sun lovingly and there’s no roughness in that. It’s gentle caresses and soft murmurs.

After a moment he breaks off, soothing his palms over Chin-sun’s shoulders. She sends him a smile and opens the passenger’s door, getting into the car. And then, when you swallow a lump in your throat, when you decide to turn around and go, run as fast as you possibly can, when you dream about nothing more but never seeing him again, you catch eyes with him.

Jimin looks pathetically apologetic. There’s something in his dark brown orbs you can’t read. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe regret. Park Jimin is a man of many maybes, yet he stares at you with expression you could only mistaken for sadness.

You wonder if he sees the way your eyes stare at him blankly. You wonder if he knows how he nearly wrecked your body and made you feel things you shouldn’t. If he hurts the same way as you do now. However, Jimin quickly diverts his head away from you, closing the door to his car behind him as well. You laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of this situation. A bitter laugh that escapes your mouth and deepen the hollowness inside you.

A hand touches your arm and you don’t even flinch, knowing already who it is.

“So you know the news,” Taehyung says, looking at Jimin’s car leaving the parking lot. How long has he been standing behind you?

“What news?” you ask, turning your head to look at him.

“Chin-sun is really going to be miss Park officially,” he replies. “Jimin proposed to her this weekend. The wedding is in may. But that’s not important right now. How’s your conversation with him, sweetheart?”

You feel sick. You excuse yourself, mentioning something about needing to catch earlier train and texting him later. Taehyung calls after you but you don’t listen. You start running.

You run until you couldn’t breathe, until there’s a soreness in your throat from the coldness of air. You run until you reach your apartment, stumbling into it on wobbly legs. Your back touches the wall and you slide off, sitting on the floor.

You don’t cry. The tears don’t strain your eyes. It’s only this damned, dull hollowness.

There’s written in the Bible that a guilty person is the one who broke God’s law, who committed a sin. The said person will be judged by their actions after their death. Because every human being has a conscience, the thing that sets the line between good and bad, so when we did something wrong, we should feel remorse.

When you sit on the floor and stare blankly in front of yourself, you know you have sinned.You both did. You wonder if he, trailing patterns of tender touches on his fiancee’s skin, feels the same as you. You wonder if guilt eats him up as much as devours you. Maybe there’s hollow ache in his chest, just like in yours. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything.

And may the God help you both find your redemption.